Reminiscences of the early 1800's in St. Clair County including
Harsens Island and Clay Township. These memoirs include
stories of early pioneers of St. Clair County and some of their adventures during
the war of 1812.
Written in 1876
Published in the
Marine City Gazette, The Pioneer Society Minutes and the
History of St. Clair County by A.T. Andreas & Co. 1883
Republished and indexed
in 2004
by
Robert, Susan and Starr Williams
in Honor of
Harvey Stewart and Aura P. Stewart
and
The Dedication of the Michigan Historical Marker
at
Stewart Farm
2007 Stewart Road
Harsens Island, Michigan, USA
May 30, 2004
"I was born in the town of Canandaigua, in the State of New York, on the
20th day of May, A. D. 1804. At the time of my birth, my father had charge of
a large distillery and brewery owned by Mr. Dewey, a merchant of Canandaigua,
who failed, by which my father lost $600, and was thrown out of business for
several months. In 1805, my father established his business of distilling and
brewing on what was called Mud Creek, in the town of Bristol, adjoining Canandaigua.
At the birth of my brother, John H. Stewart, my mother began to decline, and
her illness increasing, died in the month of May, 1810. At this time there was
much talk about the new Territory of Michigan, and from the favorable reports
secured, my father was determined to see the new Territory and seek in it a
home. Accordingly he set about the settlement of his business, and in the latter
part of November, 1810, he shouldered his pack containing his clothes, accompanied
by a brother, and took his journey for Michigan. On arriving at Buffalo he learned
that on account of the lateness of the season, there were no vessels bound for
Detroit; that the few vessels then navigating our lakes had gone into winter
quarters and laid up. On this information my father and his brother determined
to travel on foot through the then wilderness of Canada, and crossing the river
at Black Rock, our travelers entered upon their long tedious journey. At this
time the weather was warm for the season; much rain had fallen, rendering the
roads, which were mere pathways, almost impassable. After traveling two days,
father and his brother came to a tavern kept in two large log buildings joined
together; the landlord was at work chopping down some heavy timber for the purpose
of enlarging his farm. Our travelers rested the following day, during which
they engaged to assist the landlord at his chopping for a small compensation
and board for a week or more, hoping within that time a change of weather would
freeze up the mud and make the roads more passable.
At the expiration of ten days, the weather became cold, and the mud in the roads
was frozen, and our travelers pursued their westward journey. After several
days' travel, in which my father and his brother suffered much inconvenience
in obtaining food and lodging, they came to the border of what was in those
days called Long Woods; the distance through this dense and dreary forest was
twenty miles or more. Here night overtook them, and our travelers sought lodgings
at a log cabin, and were refused by the woman of the house, on account of the
absence of her husband. The weather was at this time extremely cold, and there
being no other place where lodgings could be found within ten miles, the woman
finally consented to their remaining over night. She could furnish neither bed
nor supper, and to keep warm our travelers filled the fire-place full of wood,
placed their packs under their heads and laid down on the bare floor to rest
for the night. At the dawn of day the next morning, our travelers shouldered
their packs, knowing that they could get no refreshments until they reached
Ward=s Station, ten miles distant, where was kept a house of entertainment for
travelers at about the middle of the Long Woods. My father had not traveled
many miles before he became faint from hunger, but fortunately he found in the
road a valise, on opening which he found a lunch of boiled beef, biscuit and
cheese. This was a treasure to our travelers, most timely and unexpected, and
they sought a resting place on a log and refreshed themselves with the contents
of the valise. On reaching Ward's Station, our travelers concluded to remain
over night, and secure the whole of the next day to accomplish the remaining
ten miles of that dreary forest. The next morning, our travelers, after partaking
of a hearty breakfast, pushed forward with a determination to accomplish the
remaining ten miles as soon as possible, which they did in good time, and were
glad to find that the remaining part of the journey led through a settled district.
On arriving at Moravian Town, my father fell in with a chap by the name of Ransom,
a Connecticut Yankee, as he was called by the Canadians, who had been a resident
of that place for a long time; he had built a grist-mill, saw-mill, and had
a large farm under cultivation: he was the principal business man of the place.
He appeared extremely glad to meet my father; told him that he had but recently
entered into a contract with a Mr. McGregor, of Windsor, to furnish the timber
for masts and spars and finishing lumber to be used in the construction or building
of the British fleet intended to command our lakes; Mr. McGregor being the first
contractor with the British Government. My father entered into contract with
the said Ransom to select and hew the timber in the woods to fill the contract,
Ransom to haul it to the bank of the River Thames for inspection. This was the
winter of 1811, and in the month of April the timber and lumber were placed
on the bank of the River Thames, ready for inspection and rafting. Ransom was
in the habit, once in a while, of drinking spirituous liquors to excess, and
was so well pleased to have his contract filled and accepted by the agent of
the British Government that he went on a big spree, became deranged, cut his
throat, and died before he paid my father for his labor. The timber and lumber
were to be delivered by Ransom at Malden. Mr. McGregor being the first contractor,
came up and took the timber as it lay on the banks of the Thames and contracted
with my father to raft and deliver it at Malden. After floating the timber down
the Thames, it was put into strong cribs to be taken through Lake St. Clair.
At that day the manner of rafting timber and lumber through Lake St. Clair from
the Thames was to tow it along the lake shore with ox or horse teams, unless
the wind was fair to force it forward. After many days' toil in this manner
the raft entered the Detroit River, and when below Hog Island, a violent gale
of wind sprang up which broke the raft and landed it on the American side of
the river; it was seized by Mr. Watson, the custom house officer at Detroit,
and he and other parties, knowing that the contents of the raft were to be used
in completing the British fleet, then in process of building at Malden, sought
opportunity to have the lumber and timber confiscated to the American Government,
but my father, faithful the trusts reposed in him, avoided all traps set for
him. He had the case brought into the United States District Court, and there
a decision was had restoring to him the timber and lumber. After the decision
of the court, my father collected the timber and lumber together and delivered
it at Malden, for which Mr. McGregor paid him very liberally, and promised to
assist him in getting his pay from the estate of Ransom; this he could most
easily do, as he had been appointed administrator of the estate of Ransom. While
in Detroit my father became acquainted with the firm of Mack & Miller, who
owned a distillery on Harsen's Island, in the county of St. Clair, who wished
him to make up a quantity of grain they had in store into whisky; but before
doing so he visited Mr. McGregor and leased the Ransom farm for one year, together
with the team and farming implements, and sent his brother up to take charge
of the farm and put in a crop, which he did, sowing that season twenty acres
of wheat and rye. My father, after three months, finished his engagement with
Mack & Miller and returned to the Thames, and spent the balance of the summer
and the following winter in distilling for Matthew Dalson and Esquire Jacobs.
In the month of May, 1812, my father returned to the State of New York to visit
his boys, whom he had left in the charge of their grandmother, at the town of
West Bloomfield, Ontario County, and I can well remember with what gladness
parent and sons met.
After a visit of two weeks, my father returned to Michigan, and at the proper
time, went up to the Thames, and himself, his brother and five hired men entered
the harvest field, and were progressing finely in securing the grain. At this
time Tecumseh was, with a band of his Indian warriors, stationed a few miles
above where my father was at work with his men. Previous to this, war had broken
out between England and the United States; and my father had consulted Esquire
Jacobs about his remaining in Canada long enough to secure his grain, and settle
some other business matters, and was informed that he could; and as his office
was civil and military, he would protect him. Esquire Jacobs was a very prominent
and influential man, and under his protection my father felt safe. But some
envious and loyal person had informed Tecumseh that seven Americans were at
work in a field some distance below and urged their capture. Tecumseh's feelings
being hostile to all Americans, he sent sixteen of his band, all mounted on
horses, to take my father and his men prisoners; but fortunately a friend of
my father's, on learning that Tecumseh was about to send a band of his warriors,
mounted his horse and ran him to the field where my father was at work, and
gave timely notice. The messenger told my father that he must leave the field
instantly or he would be prisoner within ten minutes. My father expressed a
wish to go to the other side of the field to get his coat, as it contained his
pocketbook, papers, and all of his money; but his friend insisted that it would
not be safe to do so, and he and his men rushed to the river, jumped into a
canoe and rowed down as fast as possible for about a mile, when my father jumped
on shore at his boarding house to get his clothes. He had just entered the house
when the band of Indians came up; on seeing them, the lady of the house requested
my father to jump down into the cellar, which he thought not safe to do, if
the house was searched; he jumped through the window and entered the harvest
field where her husband was at work, and went to work with the other men. The
Indians were told that there were seven men in the field, and when they saw
the six men in the canoe, they hesitated, giving them time to cross the river
and enter the woods. They found lodgings that night at a French house near the
mouth of the Thames, and the next day took the road leading to the River St.
Clair, and crossing over at Harsen's Island, hired a friendly Indian to take
them across to Clinton River, when they followed the road bordering Lake St.
Clair and so safely reached Detroit.
My father, being separated from his comrades, found many kind and sympathizing
friends. He was furnished with a wallet filled with provisions, and a boy by
the name of Putnam gave him a large cavalry pistol with powder and ball. With
these supplies, my father entered the woods, traveling on a line with the road.
It was late in the afternoon when my father entered the woods, and when night
came he was forced to climb a small tree to protect him from the wolves, who
came so near he could hear them snap their teeth. At the dawn of day the wolves
left, and father descended from the tree, took the road, which he safely traveled,
reached Windsor, crossed the river and entered the city of Detroit. It was a
happy greeting when the seven men met in Detroit; his companions supposed that
father had been taken prisoner.
The boy Putnam when grown to manhood became Col. Putnam, who joined the Canadian
patriots and was killed at the battle of Windsor, at the patriot invasion in
1832.
My father remained in Detroit and witnessed its shameful surrender by Gov. Hull.
He gave me a description of that scene, and of the appearance and conduct of
Gov. Hull on that day. It was fashionable in those days for gentlemen to wear
ruffled bosoms and white cravats; the Governor had besmeared his with tobacco
spittle in his excitement and fright. At that time there was a lawyer by the
name of Brush residing in Detroit, who was believed to be a traitor and unfriendly
to the American cause, and who had a controlling influence over Gov. Hull. It
was believed by the citizens of Detroit, capable of judging, that Brush had
secretly consorted with Gen. Brock and advised the manner of attack. It was
known to many of the most prominent men of Detroit, that Brush had advised the
surrender of Detroit, and argued the impossibility of successfully defending
it; that he was Hull's adviser, and his influence over him great. There was
one thing noticeable, that when Brock had arrived within musket range, he halted,
and stood regarding the American force, and their ability to oppose him, as
if in doubt whether he was not leading his men into a trap.
I have listened to Judge William Conner, of Mt. Clemens, while discussing the
conduct of Hull and Brush in the surrender of Detroit, and they gave it as their
opinion, supported by the best men of Detroit, that the cause of its surrender
was cowardice on the part of Hull, and treachery on the part of Brush.
Detroit, after its surrender, was put under the command of Maj. Mulir of the
British Army; he was a perfect gentleman, and treated the citizens with kindness
and respect. The British had collected together about fifteen hundred wild Indians;
some of them were Pottawatomies, but they were mostly from Mackinaw, and along
the shore of Lakes Michigan and Huron, and to keep them from annoying the citizens
of Detroit, they were stationed at the River Ecorse, below the city. The Indians
were commanded by a half-breed by the name of Magee. Once in awhile some of
these Indians would venture up to town, at sight of which many of the women,
children and timid citizens would be alarmed, but Magee, when notified of their
presence, would go into the street and give a few tremendous yells, at the sound
of which the Indians would gather around him, and he would order them back to
camp, and they would instantly obey him. At times when the Indians would come
to town, Magee would be so drunk that he would have to be assisted into the
street and held upright by some of the citizens; but notwithstanding, his unearthly
yells (and he had a voice like a lion) would bring all the Indians around him,
and he would order them back to camp.
While the British held Detroit, they sent two expeditions against Fort Mays,
then called Frenchtown; now the city of Monroe, where there was a little stockade
defended by Ohio militia. At the first attack, the British troops were repulsed
with considerable loss. Some of the best marksmen in the little picket fort,
when the British had placed their artillery to play upon the fort, were ordered
by their commanding officer to pick off the men at the gun, a six-pounder, and
if possible not allow it to be fired; and I have been told that they did their
work so thoroughly that the British had to abandon their gun; that the moment
they attempted to load it, every man fell. On the return of this party, my father
asked a Welsh soldier how they made out; he shook his head and said, 'very bad;'
on asking the reason of the failure, he said. 'Yankess squint, he never squint,'
meaning that our riflemen took aim when they fired but he did not.
The next expedition the British sent to capture Fort Mays was more successful;
they not only took the little stockade, but they allowed the Indians to murder
their prisoners and the inhabitants; this affair is known in history as Winchester's
defeat, and it was a cruel and sad affair. The Indians on their return had the
scalps taken from the slain elevated on poles as they entered town, among which
was seen some beautiful hair, taken from the heads of females.
The inhabitants residing on the border of the river and Lake St. Clair, and
in fact all persons having their residence north of Detroit, were compelled,
at the breaking-out of the war, to seek safety in Detroit. The Indians, in passing
down the St. Clair River, would go on shore and shoot down the cattle, sheep
and hogs of the inhabitants, and take anything they took a fancy to, and for
this reason all the inhabitants of Northern Michigan were compelled to seek
protection in Detroit, and there remained until relieved by Gen. Harrison.
The British at Malden and Americans at Erie were pushing forward, with all possible
dispatch, the building and equipping of vessels of war intended by each Government
to command our lakes, both fleets being in readiness by the 1st of September,
1813.
The British, while holding Detroit, to prevent Gen. Harrison from gaining information
of their strength and operations, kept a strict guard over their citizen prisoners,
allowing none to leave the town; but a merchant of Detroit got permission to
go down to Malden to settle some business, and on his arrival the battle between
the two fleets had begun. I have forgotten the merchant's name, but I think
it was Truax. He produced a glass and a ladder, and got on top of a house, and
there witnessed the whole transaction, and as soon as he discovered that the
American fleet were the victors he hastened back, putting his horse at a fast
trot, to bring the glad news to his American friends. It appears that the officers
commanding Detroit had got the news before Truax=s arrival, but held it secret
from their American prisoners, who were waiting with the greatest anxiety, and
were most joyfully relieved on Truax's arrival. Now followed great confusion
at the fort and in the town; the British were in a hurry to evacuate the town,
and seized every boat and canoe to convey them and their baggage across the
Detroit River. Amid this confusion and hurry of the British, the Americans collected
and held a secret consultation; they knew that the British soldiers would leave
Detroit that night; but they had great anxiety about those six hundred wild
Indians lying at the River Ecorse; fearing they would rush into town and rob,
and perhaps murder the citizens, it was thought a messenger should be sent to
Commodore Perry, requesting him to send them succor as soon as possible.
The persons selected to bear the message to Commodore Perry were William Macomb,
William Conner, Henry Graveraet, ---- Naggs, Charles Stewart, and Harvey Stewart;
there were two other persons selected, the names of whom I have forgotten --eight
in all. A canoe had been secured and hid, and our messengers, each paddle in
hand, jumped into their canoe, and propelled it down the Detroit River, exerting
themselves to deliver the message to Commodore Perry as soon as possible. The
night was dark, and on arriving at the mouth of Detroit River, no shipping could
be seen; but they heard the sound of oars and judging from the peculiar sound
of the oars that it must be a ship's boat, they hailed , 'Boat a-hoy!' the answer
was 'Ariel;' the boat hailed in turn; the answer was , 'A canoe from Detroit
with a message for the Commodore!' The officer in charge of the boat took the
canoe in tow, and brought the messengers to the Commodore's ship, where they
remained the night, the Commodore assuring the messengers that 'if the Lord
would permit, he would relieve their anxiety, by bringing his ships before their
town by 9 o'clock the next morning.' The Commodore asked the messengers many
questions, and on hearing that they were all well acquainted with the sections
of country through which Gen. Harrison would have to pass in his pursuit of
the British troops, he gave them his letter of introduction to Gen. Harrison,
who, on a further examination, employed the whole eight persons as guides to
his army up the River Thames. At this time Gen. Harrison was crossing his army
and landing them at Malden, under cover of Perry's fleet. I will here relate
a little circumstance as related by my father. The report of cannon at the battle
between the American and English fleets on Lake Erie was plainly heard in Detroit,
and while the battle was raging, father took a stroll up town, hoping to hear
from the combatants; on entering Smith's Hotel, he saw a number of British officers
seated around a table drinking whisky and discussing the probabilities of success
to the British arms. One of their number, a civil officer, after filling his
glass and elevating it high, said 'God will bless the British arms, and I drink
to the success of our brave seamen now engaged.' At that speech of the British
official, father said he became excited, and knowing that he could gain no satisfaction
by replying, left the house in disgust; but soon after Mr. Truax returned from
Malden and brought the glad news of Perry's victory; it was then amusing to
see the boaster's hurry to get over the Detroit River.
After Harrison's army had crossed over at Malden, Perry's fleet weighed anchor,
and the wind being moderate, all sails were spread, and the army being in line
for marching, both proceeded up the river, the army keeping abreast of the fleet,
which my father said was the most beautiful sight he ever witnessed. Where the
army rested that night, I am not certain, but I believe they reached Dalson's
Station, on the River Thames; if so, it would be fast marching, as the distance
would be at least sixty miles. The British had troops stationed at Dalson's,
who had joined the retreating army from Detroit, and in their hurry had left
some of their supplies. When the army halted at Dalson's Station, Gen. Meigs
rode up in front of his brigade and gave his order not to molest the citizens
by entering their gardens and orchards, saying, 'We have not come to molest
the peaceable citizens, but to fight those who are in arms against us.'
Gen. Trotter, on hearing Gen. Meigs' order, rode up in front of his men and
said: 'Boys, don't go to bed hungry; if you can find anything good to eat, take
it, and I will pay for it.' It appears that the whole army approved and followed
Gen. Trotter's order. It was vegetables the men wanted, and they took them,
wherever found. The next morning Gen. Harrison sent for the men who's gardens
had been invaded; the damages were estimated and paid to the satisfaction of
all. The British troops, in their hurry, left at Dalson's Station several hundred
loaves of bread, which Mrs. Dalson was selling to our men at twenty-five cents
a loaf, which my father put a stop to, by informing the men that it was left
by the British troops, and did not belong to Mrs. Dalson.
After the army left Dalson's Station on their march up the Thames, the Indians
would place themselves in ambush on the opposite side of the river and fire
at our men; at such assaults, a return volley from the infantry would put the
Indians to flight; but they would run ahead of our men, and, at some bend in
the river, open fire again. There were three assaults of this kind by the Indians
before Harrison's army engaged the British troops at Moravian Town.
I must stop here and give an account of a very singular and daring old man by
the name of Whitney, a Kentuckian, and at that time about seventy years old.
While a boy, I have heard Judge Connor and my father relate the circumstance
many times, of Col. Whitney's adventures and death at the battle of the Thames.
It appeared that Col. Whitney was an old resident of Kentucky, and had fought
many a battle with the Indians on the bloody ground. He said that this would
be the seventh Indian war he had engaged in, and he expressed a great desire
to see Tecumseh. Col. Whitney had no command in Harrison's army, but on account
of his age and experience in Indian warfare, he was treated with great respect
by Gen. Harrison and his officers. Col. Whitney's tent was the best in the army;
his horse as spirited and splendid animal; his rifle was silver mounted, and
he had with him two active negro servants, and he traveled wholly at his own
expense. The army after leaving Dalson's Station soon came to a branch of the
Thames called the forks. The British in their hurry had thrown the plank from
the bridge into the river, leaving the timbers or frame standing, and had also
set fire to a large log house on the opposite side of the river. Gen. Harrison
on his arrival ordered the plank replaced and the fire in the log house extinguished,
believing that the house contained valuable military stores, which was found
to be true.
Col. Whitney, mounted on his spirited horse, was always with the advance guard
of the army, and the order was given to cross the creek and extinguish the fire;
the Colonel, rifle in hand, attempted to cross on the timbers of the bridge,
but they being muddy, he slipped and fell into the water below, the fall being
about twelve feet; he came ashore without assistance, and proceeded at once
to clean his rifle, and when the army was ready to march he took his station
with the advance guard. The army had not traveled many miles when they were
fired on by the Indians, as before stated. At the second assault of the Indians,
Col. Whitney got his eye on one of them, leveled his rifle, and fired. He saw
the Indian fall, and to ascertain whether he had killed him, swam his horse
over the river, and found the Indian dead; he scalped him, swam his horse back,
and took his station with the army; and here we must leave the Colonel until
after the battle of the Thames is over.
The officer in command of the British forces saw that further retreat was useless;
that Harrison's pursuit was so vigorous that he could not avoid a battle, so
formed his men, placed his artillery and opened fire on the Americans. Gen.
Harrison returned the British fire, and then ordered Col. Johnson to charge
with his regiment of horses. The Colonel dashed through and broke the British
lines, followed by the American infantry, and the British surrendered. During
this battle with the British Regulars, Tecumseh had placed his Indians a little
below, and off to the right, a low piece of ground thickly grown with brush
lying between him and the Americans. It was quite difficult to pass through
this brushwood, and the officer in command of that part of the army assigned
to fight Tecumseh and his Indians, in his endeavor to get through the thicket
of brushwood, met with so severe a fire from the Indians that he was forced
back, and sent to Gen. Harrison for support. This message came immediately after
the surrender of the British Regulars, and Col. Johnson was ordered to the support
of the vanquished party. Then followed another charge upon the Indians, and
here Col. Johnson had that desperate encounter with an Indian chief, not Tecumseh,
as claimed by history, and as Judge Conner and my father had good reasons for
believing, from the fact that the Indians had fought at least three-quarters
of an hour after Col. Johnson had returned wounded and disabled. My father says
that when the battle began, he took his station with Gen. Trotter's brigade,
which was placed in reserve; he saw the Colonel when he returned, badly wounded,
his horse pierced by seven balls, and falling immediately after the Colonel
was taken from him; the battle with Tecumseh and his indians was still raging,
and continued for at least half an hour thereafter. It was the opinion of those
acquainted with Indian warfare, that the Indians fought until Tecumseh fell,
and no longer. But all admit that Col. Johnson had, while wounded and disabled,
a dreadful encounter with some daring Indian chief, notwithstanding all awarded
to Col. Johnson the honor of being the most efficient officer of that day's
fight.
The battle over, Gen. Harrison gave orders to an officer to take his men and
examine the battle-field where the Indians fought, to take care of the wounded,
to collect and bury the dead, and report to him. My father asked and obtained
liberty to accompany that officer over the battle-field. After passing through
the thicket of brushwood, they ascended to higher ground, with little or no
underbrush; the trees were large but sparsely scattered over the field. The
officer in command divided his men into small parties, and sent them over the
battle-field. My father remained with the officer, and in their search they
first came to Col. Whitney, and about four rods distant lay Tecumseh, both dead
on the battle-field. My father had seen Tecumseh often in Detroit, and pointed
him out to the officer, who had never seen him before. The shout that Tecumseh
was dead brought all the parties together to see him, and was soon stripped
of his dress and ornaments; but how and where Tecumseh was buried, father did
not remain to see; but he could have taken his turban, and has since expressed
a wish that he had.
Who killed Tecumseh is a question that cannot be answered, but Judge Conner,
my father, and many others believe that Col. Whitney went into battle with a
desire to meet Tecumseh, and it is possible that he killed him; Gen. Harrison
and his officers lamented the death of the old veteran; but how they disposed
of his body I never learned.
I will now relate an incident as related to me by my step-mother. At the assault
made by the British on Lower Sandusky, commanded by Col. Crogan, there were
many Indians from about Mackinaw that accompanied the British troops, but they
met with such a spirited resistance that they hurried back in great fright.
The Indians traveled in their large birch canoes, which would carry sixteen
persons. Two canoes filled with the retreating Indians were passing up the St.
Clair River, and when opposite Harsen's Island they were overtaken by a thunderstorm
at about 8 o'clock at night, and one of the canoes filled with Indians was upset;
here were about sixteen Indian warriors in the middle of the river in total
darkness, struggling to find shore, their whoops and yells, mingling with the
thunder's roar, rendered the scene truly frightful. My step-mother in her fright
seized an infant daughter of her brother's, threw a blanket around it, and was
about rushing for the woods, fearing death by the hands of those wild and barbarous
Indians, but her brother refused to let her go. The storm lasted for an hour
or more, and then all was quiet on the river; but there was no sleep that night,
for Mr. Graveraet and his sister were both anxiously waiting to know the cause
of the hideous yells on the river that night. At dawn the next morning, two
canoes were seen to leave the opposite side of the river, and approach the residence
of my step-mother; on landing, the Indians came on shore, over twenty in number,
their faces painted black; they told Mr. Graveraet that they had been to war,
that the British were defeated at Lower Sandusky and a great many killed; that
they were returning home; that one of their canoes was upset that night and
two of their number drowned; that on account of the darkness of the night, they
had great difficulty in getting ashore. Mr. Graveraet wished that the whole
of them had drowned, yet he expressed sorrow for their misfortunes and they
in turn advised him to leave immediately, as the Kit-che-moco-mons (long knives)
were coming by hundreds and would kill him.
I will relate another incident of the war of 1812, as I have heard it from the
parties connected with it. At the breaking-out of the late war with England,
there resided a family of Indians on the Big Bear Creek, on the Canada side,
who were known as the Sha-na-way family; in this family there were five brothers,
all warriors; one of them bore the name of Me-gish, who followed the British
Army and was at the battle of Lundy's Lane, where he was killed. I got the particulars
of his death from his mother and sister who often repeated the story of Me-gish's
death in my hearing when a boy. They say that he got between the two armies
as they were approaching, and a little before the battle commenced; that he
was fired on and killed by the Americans; this circumstance would not be worth
relating were it not for the statement of Capt. Chesby Blake, one of the old
pioneer captains of our lakes. Capt. Blake, at the breaking-out of war, and
while the British fleets were blockading our coasts, was mate of a brig outward
bound, and then lying at Newbury Port, waiting for an opportunity to go to sea;
he had been waiting about two months, and seeing no chance of passing the British
squadron, determined to remain inactive no longer, and at his solicitation the
whole brig's crew joined the American army; Blake, possessing a good business
education, was placed in the Commissary Department and his regiment belonged
to Scott's Brigade. In 1840, Capt. Blake came to Harsen's Island for the purpose
of getting some choice timber for one of Mr. Newbury's boats, and during his
stay lodged with my brother, Capt. John H. Stewart. My father called to see
the Captain one evening to have a chat, and the conversation turned on the late
war with England, and the part each had taken. Blake here stated that he was
at the battle of Lundy's Lane; that as the two armies were approaching, and
a little while before the action, an Indian attempted to pass between the armies,
running for dear life; his Captain said, 'Blake, can't you kill that Indian?'
at which he leveled his gun and fired, but did not hit him; he loaded his gun
in an instant, and fired again, the Indian gave an upward leap and fell apparently
dead. After the Captain had ended his story, I told him that that Indian's mother
and sister had, more than thirty years ago, related the same circumstance of
their brother's death, and both statements put together go to show a strong
probability that Capt. Blake killed the Indian Me-gish.
My father was married to Miss Mary Graveraet in the winter of 1814, and remained
in the city of Detroit during the war, which ended in February, 1815. The people
who had abandoned their homes made preparations to return, and in the month
of April, 1815, my father moved his family and goods up to Harsen's Island,
and took possession of the house and lands of his wife that had been abandoned
during the war. The settlers on the border of Lake and River St. Clair were,
at the breaking-out of the war, compelled to remove all their stock of horses,
cattle and hogs to Detroit (to protect such from the Indians), where all were
consumed; and while many were deliberating how, and where they were to be supplied,
Capt. Andrew Wesbrook went to the State of Ohio and purchased cattle, selecting
such as were most required to meet the immediate wants of the inhabitants; this
he continued to do until all were supplied. As Capt. Wesbrook was in his day
a very prominent man in St. Clair County, I will here mention a few incidents
in his life. Before the war with England, he was a wealthy farmer and businessman,
residing near the Moravian town on the River Thames; in his immediate neighborhood,
there lived one Maj. Tawsby, who was an aspirant for Government favors. At the
breaking-out of the war the British Government, took immediate steps to organize
the militia of Canada, and at such organization, Tawsby received a Major's commission,
and Wesbrook was offered a Captain's commission under Tawsby, which he indignantly
refused. Wesbrook was born in the State of New York, and his sympathies were
with the American cause; and he, on the appointment of his enemy, Tawsby, determined
to leave Canada and join the Americans; he had counted the consequences of this
act; and, knowing that the confiscation of his valuable property would follow,
he collected his goods together, and all that he could not remove he burned
with his house and barn. On Wesbrook's arrival in Detroit, he stated his case
to Gov. Hull and received a Captain's commission, and was found to be a very
useful man in the Commissary Department in collecting supplies for the troops.
There were many reconnoitering parties sent up the River Thames during the war,
or before the surrender of Detroit, and Capt. Wesbrook was a valuable guide
to such parties. On one of these expeditions, Capt. Wesbrook, learning that
Maj. Tawsby was at home, surrounded his house, and took him prisoner. The hatred
that Wesbrook and Tawsby bore toward each other was mutual and violent. After
this reconnoitering party had gone into camp for the night, and the guns were
all stacked, Tawsby seized a musket and made a lunge at Wesbrook with intent
to kill him, but in the act he stumbled and the bayonet entered Wesbrook's boot;
for this act Tawsby was put in irons until he reached Detroit. Capt. Wesbrook,
at the close of the war, purchased a farm of a Frenchman joining the Recor farm,
and other lands adjoining, from which he made one of the best farms then in
St. Clair County. Our first Representative to Congress from the Territory of
Michigan made known to that body the loss of Capt. Wesbrook's property in Canada,
and on such representation an act was passed granting him two sections of land,
which he selected mostly in the township of Clay, in St. Clair County, which
lands passed through several purchasers, and now comprise the valuable farms
of Seva and Dana Richardson.
My father, soon after his settlement of Harsen's Island, and in the month of
May following, was visited by his brother, Daniel Stewart, who had determined
to make his home in Michigan; after a short visit, he returned to West Bloomfield,
N. Y., to settle his business affairs there before he sought a permanent home
here; he was to bring with him Aura P. Stewart (the writer) and John H. Stewart,
the two boys that father had left in the care of their grandmother at West Bloomfield.
Uncle Daniel spent the months of June, July and August in preparation for his
journey. He had purchased several crates of earthenware, several barrels of
salt, and other articles which bore a great price in Detroit, hoping to realize
a good profit on his arrival there. On the 1st of November, he placed his goods
in the wagons, and, with his boys in charge, left for Michigan. On our arrival
at Buffalo, there were no vessels in port bound to Detroit; a little craft,
that hardly could be called a vessel, was lying in Buffalo Creek taking on a
cargo of salt for Detroit, and our uncle engaged a passage on board the miserable,
shabby thing; she was not ceiled inside, had no cabin, and her bulkhead was
formed of salt barrels, leaving a space in the after part which was called the
cabin; a platform was made on which some buffalo robes and blankets were spread
at night on which to sleep. The whole ship's crew consisted of three persons,
to wit: Mr. Mason, the owner, Capt. Thomas, master, and Jack Bachallor, sailor.
In his contract, uncle was to furnish his own board, a large part of which he
had brought with him; the stores of the vessel's crew consisted of a bucket
of beef, six loaves of bread, and a small bag of hard tack. There were not ten
buildings in Buffalo on our arrival there; the British had, during the war,
burned the town. My brother and I amused ourselves on our arrival in looking
down the cellars and up the chimneys; there were no warehouses in town, at any
rate near the creek; the freight was brought to the vessel in carts drawn by
oxen --rather a novel sight this would be in the great city of Buffalo to-day!
On the second day of our arrival, the miserable thing called a vessel put to
sea; however long we were in reaching Put-in-Bay Islands I do not remember,
but I well remember that my brother and I, on the day before, were told that
the ship was placed on short allowance; that thereafter our portions would be
one cake of hard tack a day, and as much water with it as we wished to drink.
I inquired after grandmother's butter and cheese, and was informed that they
were reserved for the night watch.
I was awakened one morning by a loud noise on deck, and I crawled out of the
hole, called a cabin, to ascertain the cause; on reaching the deck, I saw that
we were near land, and was told the vessel was aground on an island; I inquired
if my father lived on that island, and was disappointed on learning that he
did not --that it was one of the Put-in-Bay Islands. All on board were pushing
with poles and rolling barrels of salt over the deck, trying to get the vessel
off; not succeeding, the captain declared that the craft could not be gotten
off unless the anchor was carried out into deeper water; there was no boat on
board and it was decided that Jack, the sailor (who was a tall, stout man) should
get overboard, and carry the anchor on his back out into deeper water. Jack
refused at first, but finding by measurement that the depth of water where the
vessel lay was hardly above his hips, consented, and a rope was tied under his
arm and he was lowered gently into the water, where he received the anchor on
his broad shoulders; with it he waded cautiously out until the water reached
his armpits, when he dropped his heavy load; a few turns at the windlass sufficed
to float the vessel.
The wind being favorable, the vessel was steered up Sandusky Bay, and when near
the head of the bay it was judged that we had passed Detroit River; the vessel's
course was changed, our navigators thinking it was best to keep along near the
shore, hoping in that way to find the river. On the day after leaving Put-in-Bay,
a gale of wind sprang up, overtaking the vessel on a lee shore. Recognizing
the impossibility of weathering the storm, the captain beached the craft. As
soon as the shore was reached she commenced pounding, and the oakum began to
work out of the seams, letting the water into the cabin; our bedding and clothes
were wet, notwithstanding my brother and I endeavored to force the oakum back
with our jack-knives to prevent such a catastrophe. The seams appeared to give
way all at once, and the water came in upon us so fast that we yelled lustily
to be taken out of the miserable coop. At every dash of the waves the vessel
was thrown nearer the shore, and when she appeared motionless, Uncle Daniel
jumped overboard and took us ashore on his back. Soon the vessel became immovably
fixed in the sand, and then commenced a search for our clothes and other effects,
but the vessel was full of water and nothing could be found. Brother and I lost
our extra suit of clothes, in which we expected to appear on meeting our father;
the captain, on learning that the bedding in the cabin was getting wet, secured
his clothes and blankets, which were all that were saved. The only things got
ashore that night were the foresail and jib, of which a tent was made in which
to sleep, the jib composing the bed. In coasting along the shore we had noticed,
some three miles below where we were wrecked, a number of tents, and , as we
had nothing to eat, my uncle and Mr. Mason determined to find them that night
and procure food, promising to return at an early hour the next morning. We
boys were unused to long fasting, and thought it hard to go to bed without our
supper, especially after having been on short allowance for two days previous,
but, being weary, we soon forgot our troubles in sound sleep.
On awakening next morning, we found we had been sleeping in the water, and that
the vessel had been stranded on a sandy beach formed by the waves; also, that
on the other side of us was a great marsh extending inland several miles, covered
over with muskrat houses. Soon uncle and Mr. Mason arrived; they brought with
them a little bag of flour, a dozen dressed muskrats and a camp kettle. Sailor
Jack immediately went to work preparing breakfast; having no kneading pan nor
anything to bake in, his only alternative was to make some balls of dough and
place them in the kettle along with the muskrats; the kettle was hung over a
quick fire, for all were famously hungry, especially we boys. After the contents
of a pot were thought ready to serve, they were placed in portions on a piece
of sail cloth by Jack, and brother and I went at work to satisfy our famishing
stomachs. Good old grandmother's puddings and pumpkin pies never relished better!
We ate without reserve, and when completely gorged, threw ourselves on the sand
and rolled and laughed for very satisfaction. I afterward learned that this
shipwreck occurred in Sandusky Bay, at a place between Soder and Stony Points.
The next day we had another feast on like delicacies, and about 8 o'clock A.
M., a man from the camps arrived with a canoe, having been previously engaged
to take uncle and Mr. Mason to the River Raisin Bto Frenchtown, now the city
of Monroe.
Capt. Thompson, when two days out from Buffalo, was seized with ague chills
and every other day confined to his bed on the cabin floor. When camping on
the beach, his attacks were more violent; these ague attacks may have been the
main cause of running the vessel past the Detroit River. In the absence of uncle,
Capt. T. was cross to us and interfered with our play; in his sick state the
poor man appeared to be deranged, and it seemed to be a relief to him to give
us boys a blowing up, and at length we became frightened; having learned the
whereabouts of the hunter=s camp, we determined, the next morning, to leave
at an early hour. Accordingly we left Jack and the captain sound asleep on their
bed of sail cloth and sand. The distance was about three miles, and we hurried
our steps, hoping to reach the camp at the breakfast hour, hoping to get a change
of diet. On our arrival, the hunters received us very kindly; the first thing
we asked for was something to eat, and they gave us what was left of their breakfast,
which we ate with a good relish. That day for dinner we had ducks and potatoes
stewed in a pot, and bread baked in a pan before the fire; this, to us, was
an extra and delicious meal, for half-fed as we were we had begun to dislike
boiled dough and muskrat, of which we complained to our hunter friends. They
tried to persuade us that muskrats were excellent eating, provided they were
properly cooked, and promised to give us some of their cooking for our supper.
Their manner of cooking was to run a sharp stick through them, and then place
the other end in the ground near the camp fire, turning them around as occasion
required until thoroughly cooked; this we found to be an improvement and ate
of them very heartily. Next morning after breakfast, we prepared to return to
the wreck, hoping to meet with uncle, but before leaving, we had obtained liberty
from the hunters to return if uncle had not arrived. On our arrival we were
glad, not only to find uncle, but to see a large boat and a number of men at
work taking on board the stuff saved from the wreck. Uncle had brought some
fresh beef, a number of loaves of bread, and some cooking utensils, and before
leaving one of the men was selected to prepare what was to be our dinner and
supper; this was hastily eaten and all jumped on board the boat glad to get
away from the wreck; brother and I began to calculate on soon reaching home
and meeting our father, whom we had not seen for the past three years. We had
a calm and beautiful evening, and our French boatmen enlivened the hours with
song after song, as they tugged at the oars. I had never seen any Frenchmen,
or listened to their speech and song; we boys were so much amused and delighted
that we could not sleep, though comfortably stowed away in the bow of the boat.
At about midnight, the boat reached a little sand island in the mouth of Miami
Bay, where we rested until daylight the next morning, when we continued our
journey and that day reached Frenchtown, on the River Raisin. Uncle, on making
inquiry for a place to lodge his boys, found a man who offered to board us for
a stipulated sum for two days, and on going to our boarding-house we found but
one room in the log cabin, only one bed and the children covered with rags.
The place appeared more dismal than the tent in the sand we had so gladly left.
Our disappointment increased when supper time came, for that meal consisted
of a slice of bread, roasted potatoes and salt. If we could have made a selection
we should have preferred the muskrat stew on the beach we had left. Being dissatisfied
with our supper and weary, we asked to go to bed, and here our astonishment
and disgust was increased when our landlord, from a corner in the house, brought
out an old buffalo robe and spread it out before the fire; he told us not to
undress as he had no covering for us; that we would not be cold, as he kept
a good fire burning all night. The next morning we went to find uncle and make
our complaint, and he procured an ordinary meal of victuals at another place.
The large batteau in which we came was engaged to take us to Detroit, and we
got liberty from our French boatmen to lodge and have our meals with them. We
boys had taken a great liking to the Frenchmen and were amused at their speech,
which was broken English; they appeared to be a jolly, good-natured set. The
day after our arrival at Frenchtown, we wandered about and fell in with some
French boys who showed us the stockade or picket fort commanded by Gen. Winchester,
who, during the last war with England, was defeated and most of his men massacred
by the Indians. The boys in broken English, which we could hardly understand,
told us frightful stories about that transaction, and we were so terror-stricken
we dared not enter. On the morning of the third day after our arrival, we left
for Detroit and reached Detroit River that night; the boat was run ashore for
the night, and brother and I laid down in the place assigned us in the bottom
of the boat, but were awakened to find ourselves and bedding wet; the men had
neglected to keep the old leaky boat free from water; our blankets being wet,
there was no more sleep for us that night. On attempting to move the boat, it
was found that ice had formed for some distance around it, the thickness of
window glass. It was so cold the men and all on board were glad to get at the
oars to keep warm. At about 8 o'clock we reached a tavern where we were to get
breakfast. The tavern was the most comfortable and respectable house we boys
had entered since we left Buffalo, and we were kindly received by the landlord
and lady who appeared to be hurrying forward our breakfast. Jack bought a half
pint of liquor and drank it all down, which soon after altered his step and
manner; on going down to the boat, he commenced scolding me, which I resented,
and Jack, being irritated at my replies, slapped me in the face, causing the
blood to flow freely from my nose. On seeing and learning the cause, uncle because
very angry, and was about to have Jack arrested and punished, but he pleaded
his case so well against me, that uncle thought I deserved further punishment,
although my crime consisted of accusing Jack of drinking too much liquor and
being fuddled. Uncle having procured an apple-tree sprout, led me out, but the
good landlord came to the rescue, took me away and led me into the house, where
the landlady washed the blood from my face, and led me to the breakfast table;
a good breakfast and the kindness of our landlord and his wife restored me to
my usual good spirits; and anxiety to reach home only remained. We had been
a month on our journey, as I was told, and would reach Detroit that day; one
day's sail more would bring us to Harsen's Island, the home of my father.
After partaking our breakfast, all hurried to the boat and proceeded up the
Detroit River; at about noon, Mr. Mason and uncle determined to walk the remaining
distance to Detroit; brother and I asked to accompany them, but uncle refused,
telling us that we could not walk that distance. There were only two men at
the oars. Capt. Thompson had rolled himself up in his blankets and lain down
in a snug corner of the boat. The boat moved very slowly, and brother and I
became lonesome and disheartened; Capt. Thompson was asleep; there were two
hard-looking men with my enemy, Jack, to propel the boat, and under this state
of things I felt for the first time a disposition to cry -- the first time since
I left the home of our grandmother. Our tears moved the boatmen to put us ashore,
and on reaching the road, we ran and jumped and shouted for a few rods in expression
of our gladness; when these little freaks were over, we struck off into a fast
walk, determined to reach Detroit as soon as possible.
We had not proceeded far before we came to the River Rouge; we felt disappointed
to find the river in our way, and asked an elderly looking Frenchman to ferry
us over. He seemed surprised to see two boys of our age traveling alone. He
questioned us very closely, and from his broken English we knew him to be a
Frenchman. His questions were: 'Where you go, you little boy? what your name?
where your father live?' etc. We answered his questions promptly, and gave him
a short history of our travels; but he shook his head doubtingly and said: 'I
believe you be runaway boy.' At this moment, looking up the road he saw a company
of men on horseback approaching, and told us that we could cross the river with
them. On the arrival of these men, we were questioned again, and all being well
acquainted with our father, our story was readily believed; of these men, there
were eight in number, and all but one belonged to the Indian Department. Among
them were Mr. Noggs, Indian agent; William Macomb (son of Gen. Macomb) and Francis
Harsen, an uncle to my step-mother. Now we had fallen into the hands of real
friends, who appeared to take special interest in our comfort and welfare. They
had been out to recover some horses that had been taken by the Indians during
the war, and were now returning with them. We were each given a horse to ride,
and soon ended our journey, entering Detroit in fine style. We found Mr. Henry
Graveraet in town making preparations to go to Mackinac, having an appointment
to the Indian Department there. He took us in charge, and agreed with uncle
to land us at father's residence on Harsen's Island. The next day we boys went
to examine the vessel in which we were to go, having, from hard experience,
a poor opinion of watercraft generally. But this one pleased us greatly, being
well fitted out, and our opinions on the subject underwent change. In looking
around the vessel, I lost sight of brother John, and called to him; receiving
no answer I became frightened, and searched everywhere, but no John could be
found. Fearing he had fallen overboard, I ran on the dock, when he called to
me and on looking up found him standing on the top sail-yard, swinging his hat.
I called him to come down, which he did after laughing at my fears for a while.
When eight years old, he climbed the center post of a church steeple said to
be 150 feet high, and did it because one of the workmen had performed the same
feat, gaining much notoriety thereby. We returned home, and the next day got
on board the vessel and left at an early hour for father's, arriving there at
about 8 o'clock in the evening. Father was not at home, but Uncle Charles Stewart
was there, and the kind manner in which we were received by our step-mother
made us feel that we were at home and our journey had ended.
For many years, I saw but little of Michigan, except that portion bordering
on the shore of Lake and River St. Clair. I came from an inland and thickly
settled district, and had seen no flowing water save brooks and rivulets; I
had seen no forests but in the distance, and though but a boy of twelve years
of age I could not but feel impressed with the wild beauty of my new home. The
dense and almost impenetrable forests, the magnificent River St. Clair, the
countless number of every variety of waterfowl flying over my head or resting
and sporting on the bosom of the beautiful waters, the howling of wolves at
night, the constantly passing and repassing canoes of the strange looking Indians,
their stealthy tread through the woods and their unintelligible shouts as they
passed each other, and, last but not least, the merry songs of the French voyageurs
toiling at the oar, propelling their boats swiftly over the blue waters -- these
were new scenes to me, and called forth my wonder and delight. I have now entered
upon the seventy-second year of my life -- nearly sixty years thus far have
been spent in Michigan. I have witnessed the improvements made in the county
of St. Clair; flourishing towns have sprung up, and a large portion of our older
settlers have become wealthy; all have shared in the conveniences of modern
improvements and comforts, but yet, for my own part, I could enjoy no greater
pleasure than for a short time to see Michigan as I saw it in 1815, wild and
romantic as it then was; to traverse its dense forests, to paddle my canoe over
its waters, surrounded by game of every description on river, lake and shore;
and at night, while partaking of a supper of game taken through the day, hear
the howling of the wolves, the hooting of owls and other voices of the night.
Fancy ofttimes leads me back to the dear old primitive days, and then I am a
boy again! Alas! The vision lingers not! I am an old man with increasing infirmities,
and nothing is left to me but the memories of the past!
It appears that there were no permanent settlements made on the River St. Clair
prior to the conquest of Canada by the British forces, but immediately following
that event lands were located and permanent residences made. At Point aux Trembles,
there were four families; on Strumness Island (Dickinson's) there were three
families, and three, also, on Harsen's Island; between Point aux Trembles and
Recor's Point were fourteen, and five families were settled between Recor's
and Black River. The names of the residents on Point aux Trembles were Chortier
(Shirkey), Minne, Basney and William Hill. [Since Mr. Stewart wrote his memoirs,
Mr. Hill departed this life at the ripe old age of ninety years.] Mr. Chortier
appears to have been the most prominent man of the Point aux Trembles settlement.
The names of the residents of Harsen's Island were William Harsen, Jacob Harsen,
Francis Harsen and Mary Stewart, formerly Mary Graveraet. Capt. Peter Laughton
was the first settler on Strumness Island; he was a retired British naval officer,
and had selected the island as a part of the land he was entitled to draw from
the British Government. Mr James Harsen and his son-in-law, Isaac Graveraet,
were the first settlers on Harsen's Island. Mr. Harsen was a gunsmith, and Mr.
Graveraet, a silversmith; they came from the city of Albany, N. Y., for the
purpose of dealing with the Indians, and selected Harsen's Island as their place
of business; they purchased the island from the Indians, under the sanction
of the British Government.
The first settlers on the River St. Clair, in what now comprises the township
of Cottrellville, were Capt. Alexander Harrow, Cottrell, William Thorn, Pascal,
Robertson, William Brown, Joseph Minne, and some others whose names I have forgotten.
It appears that the British were very liberal, in that day, in the distribution
of wild lands to the officers of their army and navy, and Capt. Harrow, of the
navy, located all the land on the river extending from the present site of Algonac
to Belle River. After the United States Government came to possession of the
Northwest Territory, embracing the State of Michigan, Congress passed an act
limiting individuals to one section, and Capt. Harrow was compelled to make
his selection in accordance with this act. The lands re-selected by him are
now embraced in the township of Clay, and extended from Abram Smith's mill in
Algonac to the mill of W. C. & W. S. Roberts, at Roberts' Landing.
Mr. Cottrell (his Christian name I never knew) and Capt. Harrow were the most
prominent men of their day in the settlement along St. Clair River.
The original Mr. Cottrell, when a boy, was taken prisoner by the Indians in
one of their raids on the Wyoming Valley during the French and Indian wars with
the American Colonies. He was purchased from his captors by a Frenchman named
Cot-ter-ell, and who brought the lad up as his own son, giving him his name.
His sons were George, David, Henry and another son, who made his residence at
or near Grosse Point, and whose first name I cannot recall. The old Cottrell
homestead, a few miles below Algonac village, is well known to all my readers.
Henry Cottrell was for many years Sheriff of St. Clair County; in fact he held
that office as long as Michigan was a Territory, and, I believe, one term after
she became a State. He was a very jovial companion, a good neighbor, energetic,
industrious and prompt in the discharge of his official duties. I could relate
many pleasing anecdotes of Sheriff Cottrell, but I will only give one: Cottrell
was given an execution against my uncle, Charles Stewart, who declared the judgement
was more than double the sum he owed, and refused to pay it. Under our Territorial
laws we had imprisonment for debt, and Cottrell responded -- "Stewart,
I shall have to imprison you, then." "All right," said Uncle
Charley, "now is your time; I am going into the lumber woods, and you will
have hard work to find me." "Very well," said Cottrell, "You
are willing to go to jail, I see; here take this writ and go and deliver yourself
up to the jailer!" Uncle took the writ and delivered himself to the keeper
of the jail, where he remained for a few days, when he returned home.
Mr. David Cottrell was one of your sedate, candid, judicious sort of men; he
possessed good natural abilities, once held the office of County Judge, and
from the first election under our State government held the office of Justice
of the Peace to the day of his death; he also was the people's favorite man
for Supervisor, holding the office for many years.
As I have given a short account of the life and character of two prominent men
of an adjoining town, I must not forget those of my own township. John R. Smith,
Esq., now long deceased, was born in the State of Vermont, and at the breaking-out
of the war with England, was serving his county as Sheriff, or Under-Sheriff,
and he was almost constantly in his saddle riding through and beyond his county
on business.
On one occasion, his business led him to a little town on the banks of the River
St. Lawrence; it was in the winter; the name of the town and the year in which
the occurrence happened I have forgotten, although I have heard the Squire related
it many times. I think, however, it was the winter of 1813. Both of the hostile
armies had gone into winter quarters, and none expected a renewal of hostilities
before the spring. It appears that the British officers in command of a station
on the Canada side of the river, having obtained an account of the situation
of the town, and number of American troops, planned a night attack, hoping to
surprise the Americans and capture the town with ease. For this purpose, selecting
a dark night, he crossed his men over to the American shore a few miles above
town, and to prevent information of his intentions reaching the American officer,
he seized and placed under guard all persons he thought capable of giving information
of his approach. That night Mr. Smith had put up at a tavern near where the
British landed, and being unwell went to bed at an early hour; the British made
prisoners of the landlord and all in his house capable of giving information
and put them under guard; they were about to send Mr. Smith off with the guard,
but he being lame and ill, and the landlady pleading so hard for him, the officer
judged him harmless and let him remain. As soon as Mr. Smith thought it safe,
he went to the stable, mounted his horse, and being well acquainted with the
neighborhood, took a circuitous route, put his horse at full speed and reached
town in time to give the officer in command notice of the approach of the British.
Immediately on this notice, the officer in command ordered his men under arms,
with as little noise as possible, and placed them in a position to surprise
the British on their approach. The British soon made their appearance, and before
their lines were formed for the assault the Americans delivered their volley,
which so surprised the British that they wheeled about and retreated as fast
as possible until they reached the Canadian shore.
For this timely warning, Mr. Smith became a favorite of the American officers
of the army, and the Colonel commanding the place he had relieved from surprise
induced him to join his regiment as forage master and licensed trader with the
soldiers -- what they called their sutler. The name or number of the regiment
I have forgotten, but it appears that in the spring following Mr. Smith procured
a stock of supplies and joined that regiment and remained with it until disbanded
at the city of Detroit in 1816. Among the discharged men of that regiment there
were two experienced potters who wished to remain in the Territory, and they
requested Mr. Smith to establish a pottery and give them employment.
Mr. Smith, on ascertaining that no brown earthenware had ever been manufactured
in Michigan, and that the prospect for a ready sale was good, sought for a place
to establish his pottery. He came up to the River St. Clair, found the old Laughton
house on Strumness Island vacant, and leased it from David Laughton, one of
the heirs, and in May, 1817, had his pottery in full operation, continuing the
business until late in the fall of that year. In the winter of 1818, he was
induced by my father to teach school on Harsen's Island. At that time there
were only three families on Harsen's Island, but there were several scholars
from over the river, altogether making a school of twelve scholars. Mr. Smith
taught school on Harsen's Island the next winter, and at the same time was carrying
on trade with the Indians in company with Mr. David Laughton, occupying a house
of Mr. Jacob Harsen's, a part of which was occupied as a school-room, the other
half as an "Indian department." I remember there was a barrel of cider
in the Indian department frozen so hard that no attempt had been made to use
it. The boys got an iron rod, heated it red-hot, and thrust one end into the
barrel, and by this means they drank up the teacher's cider; this was done in
his absence, although we had good reason to believe he was acquainted with the
operation.
I may be a year later than I ought in giving the time of Squire Smith's first
appearance in St. Clair County; he was, however, the first person that was commissioned
Justice of the Peace, residing on the River St. Clair, by Gov. Cass. Macomb
County embraced all of the territory of St. Clair County, and the Governor's
commission is dated the 17th day of March, A. D. 1818.
The next office bestowed on Esquire Smith, under our Territorial government,
was his appointment to the office of Postmaster at Plainfield, St. Clair County
in the Territory of Michigan. He was the first Postmaster appointed in what
is now the county of St. Clair; his commission was dated Washington, August
26, 1826, and signed by John McLean and William Dening, clerk. I should have
stated that J. K. Smith, Esq., was appointed Special Commissioner by Gov. Cass
for the county of St. Clair, in the Territory of Michigan, which appointment
is dated the 20th day of April, A. D. 1827.
Squire Smith was also made the first Customs Inspector on the American shore
of St. Clair River, commencing the discharge of his duties in this office May
1, 1832. This office and that of Pathmaster he held until after 1841, how much
longer the records do not show.
Mr. Smith married, and in 1819 established his residence on what was then considered
the most pleasant location in the neighborhood -- now a part of the Kendall
farm, just above the present site of Algonac; this he designated "Point
Office." Some years thereafter, he removed and settled on a tract of land
now embraced within the limits of Algonac. When this village was surveyed, he
made a large reservation, retaining possession of a number of the choicest lots
in the plat, and most of them are held by his heirs to the present day.
When the Squire settled at Point Office and at Algonac, litigants from all parts
of the county came before him to have their causes adjudicated, and his business
exceeded that of the county court for many years. His popularity was very great,
gained through his judicious judgements and straightforward, conscientious attention
to duty and business. He held the office of Justice of the Peace from 1818 up
to the day of his death, which occurred in April, 1855 -- thirty-seven years.
It is a fact that up to his demise he could show a greater record of marriage
services performed by him than any (if not all) Justices in St. Clair County.
He was the first Probate Judge elected by the people of this county. Well do
I remember that election, for I then cast my first ballot, forty years ago!
It was held at St. Clair (Palmer), and the whole number of electors assembled
of that day did not exceed thirty. Squire Smith was opposed by an old Detroit
lawyer named George McDougal. The lawyer received the French vote, but was defeated.
For many years before his death, the Squire was a member of the Methodist Episcopal
Church, and did much in his lifetime to spread the Gospel, and for the elevation
and moral training of the community in which he lived. He never encouraged litigation.
He died in 1855 in the Christian faith, surrounded by his family, loved and
lamented by his children and personal friends, and respected by the public.
The next one of the old pioneers of prominence was Dr. Harmon Chamberlain, who
settled in St. Clair. I first saw him at Justice Smith's office in 1819; he
was then a youthful looking man just from his studies. He lived with the Squire
a short time, but soon moved to St. Clair, where he lived and died.
The Doctor was a great favorite with the old pioneers on the river. I make the
record of his first arrival only; his memory is too fresh in the minds of the
people for me to do more. His aged wife still lives in St. Clair.
Another pioneer of our county is Judge Bunce. He is yet living, and can best
give his own record. I think he came to the river in 1819, and the little vessel
that was carrying his effects up to his present residence above Vicksburg or
Marysville, came to anchor opposite my father's on Harsen's Island. I was then
a boy of fourteen years, and was sent to bring him ashore, and also took him
back to his vessel; on reaching deck, he gave me a finished two-bladed knife,
an instrument rarely seen in those days. I seized the treasure and hurried ashore
to examine it; then I leaped and shouted in delight and was the happiest boy
in the neighborhood that and for many days thereafter.
Capt. Henry Ainsworth settled in the township of Clay in 1820, and purchased
the Basney farm at Point aux Trembles. He was a well-informed, energetic man,
and had he lived he would have been a valuable acquisition to our community.
He died after a two years' residence, and his son, Henry, occupies the old farm.
Among the most active, industrious and prominent men in the early settlement
of our town (now Clay) was Jacob Peer. He came to Michigan in 1821 with the
intention of settling at or near Pontiac, but he fell in with Capt. Andrew Wesbrook
and was induced by him to come up to the River St. Clair. Peer purchased Wesbrook's
land (that had been given the latter by act of Congress to indemnify him for
his Canadian losses during the war of 1812), selecting some 300 acres lying
west of Point aux Trembles, bounded south and west by Lake St. Clair. It was
almost wholly prairie land, and Mr. Peer in four years' time placed sixty acres
under cultivation. Prospectively he had one of the best stock farms in the country,
but, unfortunately, the waters in our lakes had risen so high that in 1827 his
farm was completely submerged; when strong westerly winds blew, the water was
forced up to his door. Mr. Peer had to leave, a poor man again. He next selected
lands lying north, adjoining the village of Algonac, and went to work with his
usual vim to clear up another farm. When he died (in 1855) he left to his son,
Jacob Peer (Jr.), what is now considered one of the very best farms in our township,
and one having the largest orchard in the county. Mr. Peer has an apple orchard
of thirty-five acres, each tree, in all the hundreds he owns, being thrifty
and bearing fruit. The orchard alone is a source of considerable revenue to
its proprietor.
Wever [Weaver] Stewart, came to our little village about the year 1828, and
a few years after purchased lands of Mason and Luse, occupying them until his
death. He was a quiet, easy sort of man; a kind and obliging neighbor, industrious,
thrifty, and much respected by all who knew him; his wife and children are still
residents of our town, and his son, Charles Stewart, is one of the prominent
business men of Algonac.
Another of the early settlers at St. Clair County was Jacob Kendall, now deceased.
He purchased a tract of land lying about a mile north of Algonac in 1825. He
was a well-informed man; had read a great deal and up to the day of his death
had held almost every office in his town except Constable. Mr. K. was considered
one of our best citizens, and was respected by all who knew him; his farm and
residence, so pleasantly situated on the bank of the River St. Clair, is now
owned by his son, John B. Kendall, Sheriff of the county. The next and last
one of the old pioneers that I shall attempt to mention is John Swartout, now
past the ninetieth year of his age. He came to Michigan about the year 1835,
and made purchase of lands lying on the north line of the township of Clay.
Mr. S. was a very energetic and industrious man, and to this day, notwithstanding
his years, he is very useful about the farm; with the assistance of his sons,
Martin and Abram, he soon cleared up a large farm and placed it in a good state
of cultivation, which is now divided and owned by the sons mentioned. Mr. S.
had two other sons, Dennis (who chose the profession of sailor) and Benjamin,
who to-day is one of the successful business men of Algonac.
There were many other persons that came and settled in the southern portion
of the county, at a very early date, who, after remaining a few years, sold
out and removed to other parts; I could also mention the names of a number of
early settlers in the northern part of our county, but as they have made their
record better than I can describe it, I shall not make the attempt. The remaining
part of my memoirs will treat of men and matters that came within my own knowledge,
dating back to a very early day, with such incidents and anecdotes as I think
will be of interest to the people of this county.
At the death of Mr. Harsen (the first), the old homestead on the Island fell
to his son Francis, who, during the war of 1812, and for many years thereafter,
held an appointment in the Indian Department at Detroit. At the close of the
war, in 1815, he leased his farm to one Robert Little, a Canadian, and a most
lawful British subject. By the lease, Harsen was to receive rent from the products
of the farm, a part of which would be apples and cider. In the succeeding fall,
Harsen came up and collected rent without difficulty; but in the fall of 1816
Little refused to pay rent to Harsen, who was astonished at such refusal and
wished to know the reason. Little stated to Harsen that the Island was in his
Britannic Majesty's dominion, and that no American citizen could, under present
laws, hold lands under the British Government; that he had rendered important
services to his government and was entitled to lands; that he was now in possession
of the farm and should claim and hold it under British laws; he then drove Harsen
from the premises. Harsen returned to Detroit and engaged a lawyer by the name
of Whitney, and in the year 1817 commenced suit in the County Court of Macomb
County, then embracing all that portion of the territory lying north and east
of the present boundary of that county. Judge Clemens was the first Judge, and
Robert Fulton, the first purchaser of the land upon which St. Clair City now
stands, was Sheriff. There was some delay in the prosecution of this suit, it
seems, for it was late in the fall of 1817 before the writ of ejectment was
placed in the hands of Sheriff Fulton. On its receipt this officer proceeded
to execute it; he called on Little and demanded the surrender of the premises.
On this Little forcibly put the officer out of doors, and told him that he should
procure arms and shoot any person attempting to oust him; he claimed that he
was a subject of Great Britain and under the protection of that power; that
no American court could interfere with or molest him. Fulton told the usurper
that he would execute the writ if it took all the militia in the Territory.
Accordingly he called on Lieut. William Brown for assistance; Brown made a selection
of six men, two of whom had been discharged from our army, and the next day
crossed over to the island, landing at my father's residence; after procuring
a small jug of whisky for his men, the party proceeded up to Harsen's farm,
the owner joining them on the way. It appears that Little was on the lookout,
and informed of the Sheriff's coming, and had prepared for the fight. He loaded
the four guns in his house with coarse shot, and had a large five pail kettle
over the fire filled with boiling water, and thus prepared he waited the assault.
The assaulting party, on their arrival, took possession of an outhouse, where
they agreed upon a plan of attack, and fortified their courage by several nips
from the contents of the little jug. It was agreed in council that Sheriff Fulton
should first go to the outer door and in the name of the sovereign people of
the United States demand a surrender of the premises, and, if refused, signal
Lieut. Brown, who was to take the place by storm. Accordingly Sheriff Fulton
proceeded to make the formal demand, followed, at a short distance, by Mr. Harsen,
when Little fired on Harsen from a window, wounding him in the fleshy part of
the leg. At the report of Little's gun, Brown ordered his men to surround the
house and return the fire, which was done; the first shots shivered the door
behind which Little stood, one bullet going past him and entering the bed on
which his daughter was sitting. Little did not wait for another volley, but
cried for quarter, and surrendered himself into the hands of the Yankees he
so much hated.
Little had taken possession of the Harsen farm some months before my father
arrived. He seemed to be annoyed at the presence of the hated Yankee, and sent
his son down one morning to ask father what right he had to settle in British
territory; father answered that he claimed none but lawful rights, and such
as he could maintain.
I am not in possession of the date when the county of St. Clair was first organized;
but I remember that the township of Cottrellville once embraced all the territory
of the township of Clay; the division was made in the month of May, 1828. The
township of Cottrellville held two township meetings for the election of officers,
previous to the division in 1828. The people of the township of Clay, looking
forward to the time when a division would be made by common consent, called
this township by the name of Plainfield, and the circumstances which caused
the division are as follows: Capt. Samuel Ward, one of the earliest settlers
in St. Clair County, was a prominent business man, a good and obliging neighbor,
but a rabid politician. There was no compromising matters with the Captain when
his resolutions were once formed. Previous to the election in 1828, the Captain
made his selection of the township officers, and on learning that the people
of the south part of the township were opposed to his nominations, and would,
if allowed to vote, defeat him, he opposed our vote, alleging that we belonged
to the township of Plainfield and were not residents of Cottrellville. The people
of Clay called a meeting at the office of J. K. Smith, Esq., for the purpose
of taking into consideration the threats of Capt. Ward, and to determine how
to act. At this meeting it was determined that, as we legally belonged to the
township of Cottrellville, we would all go up and offer our votes, and if rejected,
we would return to Mr. Smith's office and hold an election of our own. Accordingly
we were at an early hour at the polls and tendered our votes, which were rejected,
upon which we returned and held our election, and before separating a petition
was drawn up and signed by the electors asking our Legislative Council to legalize
our proceedings, and fix the boundary of our township. At this time Judge J.
W. Bunce was our Representative in the Territorial Legislature, and he caused
immediate action to be taken on our petition; the act was passed and approved
May 28, 1828. Capt. Ward did not relish the division of his township, for at
that day there were more voters in Clay than there were in Cottrellville, and
in respect to numbers we were a small township before the division.
Judge Bunce was elected to represent us by scarcely a dissenting voice; but
the prompt manner in which he took our petition in hand was offensive to Capt.
Ward, who afterward became his most bitter opponent.
At a very early date, about the year 1820, there came to the city of Detroit
a lawyer by the name of Alexander O'Keffe, who was liberally educated and a
thoroughbred lawyer, but was extremely intemperate in his habits. His drinking
sprees were frequent, sometimes lasting for weeks. He became acquainted with
Judge Bunce, visiting him often, sometimes prolonging his visits for weeks,
and through the Judge's influence he became Prosecuting Attorney for the county
of St. Clair. O'Keffe, on one of his visits to Judge Bunce, expressed a wish
to represent St. Clair in our Legislative Council at its next sitting, and he
stated that the Judge favored his election, which was doubted by the leading
men of the county. In the following year, O'Keffe came up from Detroit to canvass
the county, and made his first call on my father. He introduced his subject
by stating that he had quit the use of intoxicating liquors; that he had determined
on a thorough reformation, and was about to take up his abode permanently in
St. Clair County. Relying on his reformation and ability, he had come to offer
himself as a candidate to represent our county in the Territorial Legislature.
In reply my father said: "Counselor, I am glad to hear of your proposed
reformation, and as to your abilities, no one doubts them. Come and make your
home among us for one year, and give us proof of your reformation, and there
is not the least doubt that you will become a favorite among the people, who
will certainly give you their hearty support; but to be candid, Counselor, I
must insist on one year's reformation before I can give you my support."
At this O'Keffe became angry and said: "Sir, I wish you to know that I
was educated at two of the best seminaries in England, and I was bred at the
Irish bar; and, sir, I can write your Governor down." After this outburst
of passion there was a pause. Mr. James Wolverton, who was present, remarked:
"Counselor, you remind me of the story of the calf that sucked two cows."
"Indeed." said O'Keffe, "and what of that sir?" "Nothing
in particular," said Wolverton, "only it is said the more he sucked
the larger he grew." At this remark, O'Keffe smiled and became apparently
good natured, when the three went in to a calm discussion of the matter. My
father and Wolverton tried to convince him that Bunce did not support him, but
on the other hand was seeking his own election. O'Keffe said: "It may be
so, but if I thought there was such deception in professed friends, I would
throw myself on the mercy of the Lord." From the first organization of
our county up to the year 1830, O'Keffe practiced in our County Court, most
of the time as Prosecuting Attorney. A soldier at Fort Gratiot had murdered
a comrade, and was delivered over to the authorities for trial; at the time,
Judge Sibley, of Detroit, was our Circuit Judge, and O'Keffe, Prosecuting Attorney.
This was the first time I sat on a grand jury. The jury in this case found a
true bill of indictment. The bill was drawn up by O'Keffe while visiting Judge
Bunce. In order to dress in the backwoods style of that day, O'Keffe procured
a pair of buckskin pants, which he wore on visiting my father. I thought if
he had had a little of my experience, he would not be so proud of his buckskin
pants, for I had worn several pairs. When new and kept dry, they are rather
pleasant things to wear; but when frequently wet they become stiff and rattle
like a brass kettle. If wet on going to bed, my plan was to hang them up and
make the legs as round as I could get them. After several wettings they become
almost unmanageable. In instances of this kind I used to bring them to the barn
and run them through the flax break, which would soften them and make them quite
dry again, but in spite of me they would retain the sound of the brass kettle.
I learned that St. Clair County was organized May 8, 1821. James Fulton was
the first purchaser of the site on which the city of St. Clair now stands, which
in process of time became the property of Thomas Palmer, of Detroit. Mr. Fulton
made the purchase with the view of making it the county seat of St. Clair County,
and Mr. Palmer labored hard to accomplish the same end. Fulton and Palmer were
opposed by Capt. Samuel Ward, who wished the county seat established at or near
his tract of land, which now embraces over Marine City. In the county seat war,
my father favored St. Clair. Charles Noble, of the city of Monroe, one of the
Commissioners appointed to decide on the proper place for the county seat, called
on my father on his way up to examine the two proposed places. My father gave
his reasons for favoring the town of St. Clair; our first county seat war was
ended by the location of the county government at the latter point.
Capt. Eber Brock Ward, late of Detroit, was but a mere child at this time, and
had no connection with the business of his uncle, Capt. Samuel Ward, until the
fall of 1832, when he took my place as clerk for his uncle.
The first jail in the county was erected by James Fulton, at the county seat.
It is stated that the building was so constructed as to answer the double purpose
of jail, and in absence of prisoners, was used by Mr. Fulton as a root house.
I could name the first criminal lodged in the institution, but for the sake
of friends forbear. I could relate many interesting anecdotes of the county
seat war, but time will not permit.
For the entertainment of our commercial men, I will give the names of the first
steamboats that plied between Detroit and Port Huron. The first boat making
her appearance on this route was the Argo, in 1830. She was constructed from
two large whitewood trees converted into canoes or "dug-outs," and
joined together so as to make a sharp bow and square stern. She was owned and
commanded by Capt. Burtice, of Detroit. On her arrival at Strumness Island,
the Captain would take on board a quantity of fence rails, as it appears she
could not carry sufficient fuel for the trip.
About the year 1831, the Gen. Gratiot was placed on the St. Clair route. She
was owned by Dr. Rice & Co., of Detroit, and commanded by Capt. John Clark,
of East China. The length of time the Gratiot kept the St. Clair route I have
forgotten. Capt. Clark was well liked and the Gratiot became a great favorite
with the traveling public. About the year 1833, Capt. Burtice placed the Gen.
Brady on the same route, but she did not remain over two years. The Lady of
the Lake, commanded by Capt. Sylvester Atwood, was a small boat fitted for carrying
freight; she did not remain long on the route. In the year 1836, the Erie made
her appearance on St. Clair River, and was the fastest boat of her size on the
lakes. She was principally owned by James Abbott, of Detroit, and continued
on the St. Clair route until 1842, when she was lost in the ice of Lake St.
Clair. Capt. Samuel Ward placed the Huron on the same route in 1840. The Huron
was the largest and best boat on the route, and was commanded by Capt. E. B.
Ward. At this time, Newport, St. Clair and Port Huron were rapidly increasing
in population, and the county was filling up with active and industrious farmers;
the same spirit of enterprise was manifested on the Canada side of the river.
Lake Huron shore and river ports gave this steamer full freights; her handsome
commodious cabins were always crowded with passengers. She continued on the
route until worn out, each year of her service netting the Wards thousands of
dollars; she was the first great paying investment, and her earnings formed
the foundation for their colossal fortunes. There were other boats that ran
in opposition to the Huron, but they were either run (or bought) off the route
by the Wards. All opposition lines to them have incontinently failed, and when
Eber B. Ward sold the route its purchasers followed in his steps and maintained
their claims against all opposition.
The first boat built in our county was owned and commanded by Samuel Ward, called
the St. Clair, which was built in the year 1820, for lake navigation. After
the Erie Canal was opened, Capt. Ward freighted his boat at Detroit for New
York City, and took on board two horses to tow her through the canal. On arriving
at Erie he took down his masts, stowed them snugly on deck, entered and towed
safely through the canal; arrived at the Hudson he shipped the mast, bent the
sails, and soon came to anchorage at the Metropolis. Procuring a full freight
back, he returned, but was somewhat disappointed upon being required to pay
toll. Capt. Ward not only calculated on getting through the canal free of toll
but expected to receive a premium, as his was the first boat from the lakes.
The St. Clair was the first boat built at Marine City, which is to-day the most
extensive ship-building town in the State except Detroit.
The first vessel built at the town of St. Clair was the Grand Turk, owned by
the father of Capt. Alex St. Barnard; she was about forty tons burden, Barber,
the master-builder, was a very ordinary workman, and the vessel, when completed,
was a rough-looking concern, and, perhaps, "Grand Turk" was the most
appropriate name for her. To look at her --
"She seemed to dare the elements to strife!"
but under a press of sail, did not --
"*walk the waters like a thing of life!"
However, in her day, she carried many a load of lumber and shingles to Detroit.
The first vessel Clay produced was built by Capt. Amos Henkly and R. Newhall,
about the year 1824; she was about fifty tons burden and was called the Savage,
of Detroit. She was used as a trader, and ran to Mackinac and Green Bay. She
was the first vessel that entered and wintered in St. Joseph River. Henkly,
on his return to Detroit, represented it as a fit place to build a flourishing
town, and, when the site was secured, he claimed an interest in the lands as
his possessory right, he having built the first house on the premises. In 1834
he died on his boat and was buried in the sand on the Canada shore. The following
winter, Mr. William Brown had the body raised and properly interred on the American
side of the river. Mr. Brown had a perfect likeness of Capt. Henkly which he
carefully preserved, and it is now in the possession of some of his family.
Within the past two decades, a multitude of boats and vessels have been built
at Marine City, but the first vessel built on Bell River was the Pilot, and
was owned by Capt. Andrew Wesbrook and Capt. A. B. Henkly. The owners disagreed
about the management of the vessel, and to settle the difficulty the boat was
sold to Mr. Newberry, of Detroit. A full history of the ship-building of St.
Clair River, together with a sketch of the lives of the different commanders,
would make a large and interesting book.
Before closing, I claim it to be my duty to leave a little record of my deceased
brother, Capt. John H. Stewart. He may be justly ranked among the pioneer sailors
of the lakes; he also stood high in his profession, and was greatly respected.
In 1817, my father built a little sloop of twelve tons burden, for the purpose
of carrying shingles, tan-bark, coal and such other freight as could be picked
up along the shore of the river. In those days, men having freight of this kind
were expected to help load and unload, as well as assist in the management of
the boat. My brother commanded the sloop, and it was then he acquired a love
for sailing and determined to make it his business. At the age of seventeen
he made his wishes known to my father, who gave his consent, and in order that
his boy might become perfect in his profession, he had him placed in charge
of Capt. Chesley Blake, who had command of a fine schooner called the Mariner.
My brother remained with Capt. Blake two seasons, and sailed the following season
with Capt. Flaharty, on board a little Cleveland schooner called the Eclipse.
He spent the winter of that year at Rochester, N. Y., and at the opening of
navigation the next spring, entered the employ of Thompson & Co., of Buffalo.
After that he entered the employ of O. Newberry, of Detroit, and sailed with
Capt. Dingly on board the La Salle, and the two following seasons he was mate
on one of Newberry's vessels. He next commanded the Pilot, built by Wesbrook
& Henkly, and the following season he fitted out the Marshal Ney, owned
by Ward & Newberry, and went as mate on her that year with Capt. Ward. I
am not in possession of the dates, and can only give the time in which my brother
first went as seaman, and the length of time he continued on the lakes. He shipped
with Capt. Blake in 1820, as an apprentice. The names of the vessels and boats
he commanded are as follows: The Pilot, Marshal Ney, Jena, Marengo, La Salle,
Napoleon 1st, the brig Manhattan and Napoleon 2d, which Mr. Newberry placed
on Lake Superior. It strikes me very forcibly that he had commanded one more
vessel, but am not certain. In 1840, he chartered the Gen. Harrison from Capt.
Ward for $1,200, and on his first trip from Chicago to Buffalo, he brought down
a cargo of wheat at 25 cents per bushel, which amounted to $1,000, $200 less
than the charter.
The first time business took me to Black River, where the city of Port Huron
now stands, there were but three dwelling houses in the place, on being occupied
by a Mr. Petit, and another was used as an Indian trading house. At the time,
a mission school was opened at Fort Gratiot with one Mr. Hudson as principal,
and a Mr. Hart as assistant. A very interesting and correct account of the early
settlement of Port Huron and Black River has been published by Mrs. B. C. Farrand,
of Port Huron, she obtaining information principally from Mr. Petit. I was much
pleased when I read the whole article, on account of its correctness. The only
error I detected, was in spelling Mr. Graveraet's name. Mr. G. assisted in procuring
scholars for the mission school, and without his influence scarcely a scholar
could be got. He was my step-mother's brother, and uncle to Garret G. Stewart,
of Harsen's Island. After a trial of about two years, the mission was moved
to the Island of Mackinac, where it was assisted by Mr. Graveraet's brother
Henry. The only Indian scholar that I can remember attending the Fort Gratiot
school was a brother-in-law of Mr. Jonathau Burtch, who came to Port Huron at
an early date, and if I am not mistaken he erected the first frame building
in which goods were sold. The first mill for the manufacture of pine lumber
erected on Black River was built by Mr. Enos Morass, some years before the war
of 1812. During the late war with England, our Government wanted some large
sticks of pine timber, and the contract for furnishing them was given to Mr.
Morass, who procured men and teams and went up Black River, selected and cut
the timber, passing with it on his trains down Black and St. Clair Rivers, over
Lake St. Clair, and down Detroit River, all the way on the ice, which at that
day was considered an extraordinary undertaking. Another risky and dangerous
undertaking which happened during the war, was performed by Mr. William Brown,
father of Mr. James Brown, of Cottrellville. The troops at Fort Gratiot were
short of provisions, and the Commissary at Detroit had orders to supply them.
A short time previous, a Lieutenant of the Fort, in passing down the river,
was shot by the Indians and killed, but the men who accompanied him escaped.
At this time it was considered dangerous for small bodies of men to travel along
the northern shore of Lake and River St. Clair, as large numbers of Indians
were secreted in the woods. The commissary, in looking for a man who was thoroughly
acquainted with the roads and paths through the forest, was recommended to Mr.
Brown as a man well posted in the route, also a man of great courage and energy.
Mr. Brown was engaged, and the next morning at an early hour he left Detroit
with a train of fat cattle and other articles, arriving at Point aux Trembles
that night. The next day he arrived at Fort Gratiot all safe. The supplies were
gladly received, the officer in command thanking Mr. Brown for his promptness
in the delivery. Another circumstance by which Mr. Brown met the approval of
the military authorities happened in the fall of 1819. The militia of St. Clair
was commanded by Capt. Wesbrook and Lieut. William Brown. While engaged in training,
two of the militia men quarreled and wanted to fight, but were prevented by
Lieut. Brown. Capt. Wesbrook said, let them fight if they wish, which remark
brought on a quarrel between the Captain and the Lieutenant. Wesbrook charged
Brown with disobeying a superior officer. Brown appeared before the Commander-in-Chief,
who discharged Wesbrook and appointed Brown Captain in his place.
The first minister of the Gospel that visited our country came to my father's
residence in the winter of 1818. His name was Dickson, and he was connected
with the M. E. Church. There were but three families on the island, all of whom
assembled at my father's residence to hear Mr. Dickson's discourse, which was
the first sermon preached in St. Clair County by a Protestant minister. Two
years after, we had preaching once a month by Methodist ministers, their circuit
being very large, embracing the city of Chatham, Ont., and the country along
River St. Clair. They were almost constantly in the saddle to meet their appointments.
My father, although a Calvinist Baptist, and strongly opposed to Armenian doctrines,
opened his house for these energetic men, and encouraged them until they organized
societies able to support their own ministers. The Methodist ministers of that
day were poor, humble and devout men, and the members of their societies lived
the same prayerful lives. The Methodists of to-day, I think, have lost the religious
simplicity possessed by the ministers of those early days. The Methodist ministers
of to-day have more learning, the church has become wealthy, they have got hold
of the silver spoons, and are standing on their dignity like other sectarian
churches.
While I am writing about Methodist ministers, I will relate a little incident
that happened about the year 1820. It was about midwinter, the weather being
extremely cold; our minister called on us about 4 o'clock, and was seated in
the sitting room before a roaring fire. While thus seated, the juvenile part
of my father's family spoke to each other in whispers, and walked over the floor
on their tip-toes. We were a noisy set usually, but our reverence for a minister
of the Gospel was such as to place us under restraint. The house in which my
father resided was of the old French style, and was built soon after the taking
of Canada from the French. It had two bedrooms, a sitting room and a large kitchen,
with a small bed room for the boys; consequently we could not lodge many guests.
At about 8 o'clock that evening, three men called and asked for lodging for
the night. They were three lawyers from Detroit; one was Judge B. F. H. Witherall,
who was then a young lawyer, bearing a very youthful appearance. After our lawyers
had partaken of their supper, arrangements for bed accommodation were made.
Of course the minister must have the best bed and room; as the three lawyers
could not sleep in one bed with comfort, it was therefore decided to bring the
bed and bedding from the bed room and place it on the parlor floor before the
fire-place, which was large, and was, on that occasion, provided with sufficient
wood to keep fire at least ten hours. Our legal guests cheerfully submitted
to the arrangements, and as the night was very cold, a pitcher of hot whisky
sling was prepared for them before retiring, and a kettle of hot water was left
on the hearth in case they required more sling. It appears that the lawyers
spent the most of the night in drinking, telling anecdotes, laughing, etc. I
learned from our good minister what had been going on in the parlor during the
night. He got up about 4 o'clock and asked me to get his horse; he had had but
little sleep and intended leaving before breakfast, not wishing any more of
their company. I expressed my sorrow, and hoped that the next time he came he
would have no Detroit lawyers to disturb him. I don't think there could be found
at the present age a minister who would leave bed at 4 o'clock to avoid the
company of three young lawyers. I have forgotten the names of the two that were
with young Witherall, and have not since learned whether or not they repented
their sins. I was afterward informed that Witherall, some years later, joined
the Methodist Episcopal Church at Detroit. He was a good lawyer and afterward
became Judge of the Wayne County Criminal Court.
But few, at this day, are aware of the hatred manifested by the old British
settlers of the Territory, toward the Yankee, a name given by them to all American
citizens of the United States. It was not so with the French people; they were
glad to have the Bostonians come among them; but the most hatred was manifested
by the old Indian traders. They feared the settlement of the States would injure
their trade. In the neighborhood where my father lived there was an Indian trader;
he was at home but a few months in the year; most of his time was occupied abroad
with the Indians. He had a particular hatred for the d----d Yankee, as he generally
called all persons from the States. He had manifested his spleen toward my father,
who was informed of it through friendly parties. Early in the spring of 1816,
he called apparently in great haste. He said that the Black Chief had called
a council of the Indians, and that they were determined that no American should
reside on the island; that the first settlers on the island were in general
council adopted with their children into their tribes and could remain, but
they would force all others to leave. He said he had called to give timely notice
that my father could be put on his guard; and he feared he would have trouble
with the Black Chief. This message was delivered in a hasty manner, and our
informant left. In a few days an Indian called at my father's somewhat intoxicated.
He made some statements which led my father to believe that he had been stuffed
by the Indian trader. At this time, a neighbor stepped in and the Indian picked
a quarrel with him and was knocked down. My father believing that the trader's
whisky and council was the cause of the Indian's insolence and threats, seized
his ax and hastened to the trader's house and when there walked deliberately
in, knocked in the head of his barrel of whisky and turned it on the floor.
The next day he manned his canoe and went to Detroit and stated his case to
Gov. Cass. He informed the Governor that he had on one side a loyal British
subject who disputed his right to reside on the island, and on the other hand,
an Indian trader whom, he had good reason to believe, was instigating the Indians
to annoy and molest him. On this representation the Governor told my father
to return and if he should be further molested, to give him notice, and he would
send troops to protect him. This affair ended all further trouble; the Indians
became my father's best friends, and for many years supplied his table with
venison and all kinds of wild game.
While I am writing about Indians, I will state a circumstance that happened
in the year 1812 or 1813, as related by my step-mother. At the breaking-out
of the war, the British Government secured the services (with but few exceptions)
of all the Indians residing at Mackinac, Sault Ste. Marie and the shores of
Lake Huron; a large number of them went in with the British troops to the assault
on Fort Sandusky, commanded by Capt. Croghan. The repulse given by the Americans
was so spirited and so destructive, that the British made a hasty retreat back
to Malden, which caused a panic among their Indian allies, many of them refusing
to remain. Two large birch canoes, filled with returning Indians were passing
up the River St. Clair in the night, and when near my step-mother's residence
on Harsen's Island, a thunder-storm burst upon them and upset one of their canoes,
throwing about sixteen Indian warriors into the river to struggle for their
lives. The night was perfect darkness and it was a long while before they could
reach the shore. Those that reached the shore shouted to those struggling in
the water, through the lightning's flash and peals of thunder. The shouts of
Indians continued until all not drowned reached the shore. To my step-mother
the scene was so frightful that she seized her brother's infant, threw a blanket
around it and was about rushing into the wood near by, fearing that the Indians
would massacre them, when she was prevented from doing so by her brother, and
they both waited for the morning to reveal the mystery of the Indian shouts
and yells of the night. At the dawn of day the next morning, two birch canoes
filled with Indians were seen to leave the opposite side of the river and approach
the island, and twenty great strapping Indians came ashore, their faces all
blackened with charcoal --the Indian manner of mourning for departed friends.
They looked very solemn, and stated that they were induced to go to war by the
British, and were told by them that the Kit-che-moco-mans (Long-knives) were
great cowards, and easily whipped, but they had found the statement not true;
that the Americans had killed a great many British at Lower Sandusky; and that
they had to retreat to save their lives, and were returning home when the storm
struck them last night; one of their canoes was upset; that they were a long
time in reaching the shore; that two of their number were drowned. The Indian
speaker ended his statements by advising Mr. Graveraet to leave immediately,
as the Long-knives were coming and would kill them.
At the breaking-out of the last war with England, there resided at or near Mackinac
an Indian chief by the name of Wing, who was friendly to Americans, and when
the British with their Indian allies surprised and captured Mackinac, in 1812,
the chief, Wing, refused to take any part in the transaction, and through his
influence restrained the members of his band from taking presents from the British,
not even accepting a plug of tobacco. His fidelity to the Americans was so great
that he selected eight strong men of his band to man his large birch canoe,
with which he passed down Lakes Huron and St. Clair, and gave information to
Gov. Hull of the capture of Mackinac. For this information and his zeal and
fidelity to the American Government, he became a great favorite with the officers
commanding at Mackinac. He visited the Governor every year at Detroit until
his advanced age prevented him.
I have one more Indian story to relate, which happened in the spring of 1816,
when Col. McNeil commanded Fort Gratiot. Among the numerous families of Indians
that resided on Black River was that of an old Indian by name of Black Snake.
He had a numerous family and was related to John Riley, a half Indian, who selected
lands and resided in the township of Riley, St. Clair County. The town at its
first organization was called Riley, in memory of the old Indian residents.
The father of John Riley was a resident of Albany, N. Y., where his son John
was educated when a boy. John considered himself a citizen of the United States,
and the band of Indians to which he belonged were, through his influence, recognized
as belonging to and under the protection of the American Government. Among the
band of Indians there was a strong-built Indian by the name of Black Duck. He
had for a wife a daughter of Black Snake and was strongly attached to the American
Government. The Black Duck was an invited guest at a great Indian feast held
at or near the mouth of Black River. At this feast much whisky was drunk and
many speeches made. The Indians from Canada took part, one of whom boasted of
his power and bravery as a warrior, and related how many Americans he had killed
and scalped during the past war. As soon as the Indian finished this speech,
Black Duck jumped to his feet, and seizing a tomahawk, approached the speaker
and said: "You are a great brave; you have killed many Americans; you have
taken their scalps. The Americans you have killed were my friends, and you will
kill no more!" Black Duck buried his tomahawk in the boastful speaker's
head and here the pleasures of the feast ended. The Black Duck knew that the
avengers of blood would be upon him, for with Indians it was, as it has been
in olden times, "an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth;" he therefore
hastened to lay his case before Gov. Cass, and seek his protection. He was placed
in the fort for safety. The Governor was well acquainted with John Riley, who
had rendered valuable service to our Government during the war. Through Riley,
a proposition was made to have the matter settled by paying the Indians for
their dead relative. On this proposition a council was held before the Governor,
at which the avengers of blood agreed to take the pay for their dead relative
according to their valuation, besides a selection of goods from the public store
in Detroit. They demanded forty quarts of whisky, which they considered necessary
in order to soften their hearts and cause the tears to flow more easily over
their dead relative. The Governor's Secretary drew an order on my father for
the forty quarts of whisky. I was present and wondered that Indians with such
dark skins should paint their faces with black charcoal, but I was told that
they were mourning for the dead.
I have stated that Mr. Jacob Harsen was the first purchaser of Harsen's Island.
He had a family of seven children, five sons and two daughters. His eldest daughter
was the wife of Mr. Graveraet, who settled with him on the island. Immediately
after the purchase of the island from the Indians, Mr. Graveraet died, leaving
a family of four children, who, with their mother, made their home principally
with their grandfather, until grown up and sufficiently old to take care of
themselves. In the two families, thus united, there were several serious accidents
causing death of some of its members and loss of limb to others. It appears
that Mr. Harsen was brought up in the faith and discipline of the Lutheran Church,
and he endeavored to train his children in accordance with the rules of that
church. Although in a wilderness where wild game was abundant, he forbade the
use of fire-arms on the Sabbath. But one Sabbath morning while all was quiet
and the members of the family were all in the house, a large flock of ducks
lit on the shore near the house. The sight of the ducks was so tempting to the
eldest son that he seized his gun and attempted to fire at the ducks, but the
powder flashed in the pan; he ran into the house to re-prime his gun. When entering,
the butt of the gun struck the door, which caused an explosion, the whole charge
entering Miss Graveraet's arm, then a girl of seven years. It was so frightfully
mangled that she was immediately taken to Detroit to have it amputated. Miss
Graveraet spent most of the days of her childhood in the family of Judge May,
of Detroit, where she learned to sew, and became so expert with the needle that
few could excel her at various kinds of needlework. She became my father's second
wife in 1814, and was the mother of Capt. Albert Stewart, of Detroit, and Garret
G. Stewart Esq., of Harsen's Island. The next serious accident that happened
in the Harsen family was in 1800. At this time old Mr. Harsen was dead, and
his son Barnard became head of the family. It appears that a keg of powder had
been placed in the parlor chimney, and on Saturday evening several pounds had
been weighed out to men that had been at work in the harvest field during the
week, and some had been spilt on the hearth; by some means fire had been communicated
to the powder, and the whole keg of twenty pounds exploded, blowing the house
into fragments, and instantly killing Mr. Barnard Harsen and Mrs. Graveraet;
a large pewter platter, which was lying on the head of the keg, was driven with
such force as to almost cut Mrs. Graveraet in two; other members of the family
were badly burned and wounded, but recovered. At the time of this explosion,
there was stopping with Mr. Harsen a Moravian minister by the name of Denkey,
who was a great smoker, and it was surmised that he had emptied his pipe on
the chimney, which set fire to some paper and thus communicated with the powder.
Denkey was not in the house at the time of the explosion, and the conjecture
that he was the cause, may have been wrong. He wrote out a full statement of
the accident and had it placed in my step-mother's Bible, and when a boy I read
the account as he gave it, but the record is lost and I am writing from memory.
At this explosion, a looking-glass of my step-mother's was blown nearly a mile,
and was found in the south channel of River St. Clair; the frame and quicksilver
were gone; it was put in a frame again and kept by my step-mother as a relic
of the accident.
About ten years after the blowing-up of the house, causing the death of two
of the members of the Harsen family, Mr. James Harsen went over to Big Bear
Creek on the Canadian side to trade with the Indians. At this time, John Riley
was there on a spree, and as Mr. Harsen was stooping to enter his cabin, he
(Riley) fired off his rifle, the ball entered Mr. H.'s eye and passing out behind
his ear. From this wound Mr. Harsen lingered in great misery for about six months,
and died at his home on Harsen's Island.
The names of the steamboats commanded by my brother John were Michigan 1, and
Michigan 2, owned by O. Newberry, of Detroit, and the Northern, owned in Cleveland.
He also commanded a steamboat on the Chicago and St. Joseph route, the name
of which I have forgotten. In 1855, he purchased an interest in the steam tug
Pilot, but as his health was fast failing his physicians advised him to abandon
the waters and remain quiet at home. He did as advised, remaining at home until
the day of his death, which was on the 28th of May, 1855, in the fiftieth year
of his age. He entered on his profession in the year 1820, and continued it
for thirty-five years. He was the first seaman from St. Clair County appointed
to the command of a vessel at Detroit. In two cases he risked his life to save
the lives of drowning sailors and passengers. He was generous to a fault, and
could shed a tear for suffering humanity. His death was sudden, as his physicians
had previously told him it would be. He was at my place in the morning on business
and died before reaching home, in an apoplectic fit, it being the third attack
of the kind. He left a good record, which his surviving children should imitate
and be proud of.
After writing the above memoirs, I visited my brother, G. G. Stewart, of Harsen's
Island, and while there I asked to examine my father's papers, among which I
found the appointment of Harvey Stewart as County Commissioner, in and for the
County of St. Clair. The commission had the seal of the Territory, signed by
Lewis Cass, Governor, and William Woodbridge, Secretary of State, and was dated
the 22d day of May, 1822. Following the above appointment is the commission
of Gov. Cass appointing my father Master in Chancery in and for the Territory
of Michigan, and dated April 20, 1827.
Regarding myself, I have made a poor record. While many men of my day have become
wealthy, and some have filled honorable stations, it has been my lot to remain
poor. The exposures of my pioneer life left me subject to chronic disease at
the age of forty, which have prevented me from doing continuous hard labor;
yet I have assisted in clearing up three farms, one of which I had the misfortune
to lose through a defective title, but afterward recovered part by purchase
from the lawful owner, requiring all my earnings for five years to meet the
payments. I have lamented my lack of a good education; the little I did receive
was picked up two and three months at a time, the whole not exceeding one year's
tuition. Had I been blest with a good education, I should have sought business
less laborious, in which I am inclined to think I would have succeeded. After
all, my evil Genii may have been the cause of all my mishaps. Possessing as
I do a nervous temperament, I have many times kicked against the pricks; yet
in the discharge of public duty and business affairs, I have endeavored to make
myself reliable. I, with my deceased brother, Capt. J. H. Stewart, came to Michigan
in the month of November, 1815. I have been a resident of St. Clair County sixty
years, and now claim to be the oldest emigrant resident of St. Clair County.
To-day there are only four persons living in the township of Clay that cast
their ballots at the first election held in St. Clair County and the names of
these persons are, George Harrow, Azel Abel and the writer."
In February, 1876, the following letter appeared regarding some of Mr. Stewart's
statements:
Harsen's Island, February, 1876
EDITOR GAZETTE --In A. P. Stewart's recollections concerning the shooting of
Francis Harsen by Robert Little, some mis-statements are made which I wish to
correct. Little never refused to pay rent; no trouble arose from that cause.
When the first lease had expired, Harsen came up from Detroit and leased his
farm to Little for five years more. It was agreed that Little was to go to Detroit
and then papers would be drawn up to this effect. Before Little went to Detroit,
A. P. Stewart's father took occasion to inform Harsen that Little would attempt
to hold possession of the farm if he (Harsen) leased it to him for another five
years; it was thought likely, at that time, that the island would fall to the
British Government, and Stewart, supposing Little to be a British subject, told
Harsen that Little would claim it. Little never told Harsen that he would dispossess
him, nor did he ever order him from the premises.
When Little was informed by friends that Harsen was coming with a force of men
to oust him, he was greatly surprised. When he saw them coming he barred the
doors; they demanded the premises, and Little refused to yield possession, having
a lease of them for five years, as he could prove. Then they went around in
front of the house and held a council, and afterward marched down to Stewart's
distillery and he supplied them with whisky. At this moment one of the men,
more intoxicated than the rest, approached the house and fired through the window,
the bullet passing between Little's wife and daughter, who were sitting on a
bed. Then little shot at the man who fired through the window, missing him;
one of the shot, however, struck Francis Harsen in the fleshy part of the leg.
Harsen, when hit, was walking by himself on the bank of the river. It was thought,
from the position of the parties, that the shot must have glanced from the frozen
ground and struck Harsen, the wounded man himself afterward coinciding in this
opinion.
Sheriff Fulton came to the window and advised Little to give up the premises,
saying that the men were all intoxicated and he was afraid might commit murder.
Little told him if he had proper authority he might break the door down and
he would not molest him or any of his party. Then Lieut. Brown came in and was
showing his authority by throwing the furniture around, when Little put Brown
out of doors. The case was carried to court. Afterward Harsen came to a settlement
with Little, and all trouble ceased.
Harsen said himself that there would not have been any trouble had it not been
for A. P. Stewart's father. Stewart was the instigator of the row. Harsen and
Little were ever after friends, remaining so until death.
Robert Little was born in Maryland; his father moved to Grosse Point, Mich.,
and he lived there with his father until he became of age and owned a farm there.
Married a Miss Tucker, of Mt. Clemens; sold his farm at that point and bought
a farm at Mt. Clemens; from thence he came up and leased Harsen's farm to carry
on a dairy; from thence he moved back to Mt. Clemens; lived there until his
wife's death. He had a family of twelve children, of whom nine are living; the
oldest is eighty-four years of age. Two sons of his were volunteers in the war
of 1812, at Mt. Clemens under Col. Stockton. His daughter, Mrs. Johnson, who
came so near to getting shot, is living yet. After his wife's death, he resided
with his son in Wallaceburg, Ont., one of the most prominent business men of
that place, where he died in 1847,aged seventy-six years. He left a large circle
of friends and relatives to mourn his loss.
This statement I learned from Francis Harsen and from my father, Robert Little,
as well as from other eye witnesses, who, I think, have better recollections
than A. P. Stewart, of this case.
Yours respectfully, N. Little.
The following letter from Mr. Stewart formed the reply:
ALGONAC, February 26, 1876
EDITOR GAZETTE --In the last issue of your paper I find a note by which I learn
that you hesitate to publish my reply to N. Little, until you see me, but for
what reason I cannot easily guess. N. Little, in his reply to the account given
in my memoirs of the shooting of Mr. Harsen, makes out my statement to be false;
that my father was a bad man and the cause of that difficulty; he also states
that the militiamen collected by Sheriff Fulton and commended by Lieut. Brown
were a drunken mob. I am not willing to remain silent and allow such statements
to go before the public unrebuked. Mr. John Robertson, an old gentleman residing
on Belle River, is the only living man that assisted Sheriff Fulton in getting
Little from the Harsen farm. Mr. Robertson's moral character is unimpeachable;
he is a Christian and is respected where known. N. Little's statements have
been pretty thoroughly discussed in this place since their publication, and
are not believed by the respectable part of the community. I have remained quiet
and let the public discuss the matter, and was much gratified when informed
that the decisions were in my favor. N. Little accuses me of falsehood, and
taints the reputation of my father, Sheriff Fulton, Lieut. Brown and the men
under his command; and in reply, I claim the right to give a brief history of
N. Little's father and grandfather, and let them stand face to face before the
public. To refuse me this privilege is wronging me and the worthy persons I
feel it my duty to defend. Perhaps you think my reply to N. Little too severe;
severe or not, it is a matter of history recorded in the memory of the old inhabitants
for the last eighty years, and so often related in my hearing when a boy, that
I retained it as readily as I do the English alphabet. If you think my charge
too heavy for your gun, and that it will burst in expounding, then return my
article and I will seek redress elsewhere. The old rat that said caution was
the parent of safety, was considered a wise old fellow, and perhaps in most
cases the old rat's logic is the best; but the rat's reasoning was to save its
life, not in the defense of the moral character of itself and friends. I have
written enough, and shall only add that if you cannot publish my reply to N.
Little, kindly publish this letter; I would like it published even if you do
publish my reply. I know one or two parties who were eye witnesses to N. Little's
dispossession, and as soon as I can get their statements, I shall forward them
to you for publication.
Very respectfully, A. P. Stewart.
THE END
as written in 1876
Notations - May 2004
Some people believe that Isaac Graveraet mentioned in these memoirs was actually Garret Graveraet. In addition, some references to a James Harsen may have actually been referring the Jacob Harsen.
Near the end of his memoirs Aura wrote:
Regarding myself, I have made a poor record. While many men of my day have become
wealthy, and some have filled honorable stations, it has been my lot to remain
poor. . . . I have lamented my lack of a good education; the little I did receive
was picked up two and three months at a time, the whole not exceeding one year's
tuition.
Aura,
You did not make a poor record. You have left for future generations a wonderful
record of the early 1800's in St. Clair County. Your one year's tuition has
served you well and your writings live on. Thank you Aura.
Robert Williams