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MRS. HANSON AND HER CHILDREN
HE colonists of New England, and especially of New Hampshire, were rarely free from apprehension of attack from their savage neighbors. A desultory warfare was carried on, even when treaties seemed to have secured peace. Houses were burned, farms, teeming with the fruits of toil, destroyed, and the inhabitants either murdered or made captive. Many instances are recorded, of suffering and torture inflicted upon families, which have been thus attacked. One of the most remarkable has been preserved in the words of one of the victims, Mrs. Elizabeth Hanson.
On the 27th of June, 1724, a party of Indians were discovered in the neighborhood of the house of John Hanson, in Dover township, New Hampshire. They had been lurking in the fields several days, watching their opportunity, when Mr. Hanson and his men should be out of the way. At the favorable moment, thirteen Indians, all naked, and armed with tomahawks and guns, rushed into the house, killing one child as soon as they entered the door. The leader came up to Mrs. Hanson, but gave her quarter. At the time of the attack, she had a servant and six children. Two of the little ones were at play in the orchard, and the youngest child, only fourteen days old, was in the cradle.
The Indians set about rifling the house, fearing to be interrupted by the return of some of the men, and packed up every thing that pleased them, and which they could conveniently carry. The two children running in from the orchard, the Indians killed one to prevent its shrieking, and gave the other to the mother. The dead children were scalped, and the mother, the servant, and the remaining children, were taken hastily from the house. Mrs. Hanson was weak, yet she had no alternative but to go, or die, and her children were frightened into silence. After wading through several swamps, and some brooks, and carefully avoiding every thing like a road, the party halted at night-fall, about ten miles from Mrs. Hanson’s house. A fire was lighted, and a watch set, while the rest of the party sought repose.
Just as the day appeared, the Indians were awake, and, with their captives, set out again and travelled very hard all that day through swamps and woods without a path. At night all lodged upon the cold ground, wet and weary. Thus for twenty-six days, day by day, the party travelled, over mountains, through tangled thickets, and across rivers and swamps, sometimes without any food but pieces of beaver skin, and enduring hardships, to which the Indians were accustomed, but which the poor captives could scarcely bear.
At the end of twenty-six days, the party reached the borders of Canada, and as they were compelled to separate, the captive family was divided between them. This was a sore parting, but the mother had become resigned to her fate, and taught her children by example how to suffer. The eldest daughter, about sixteen years of age, was first taken away, and soon after, the second daughter and the servant, at that time very weak for want of food, were divided between Indians going to different parts of the country. The mother, her babe and little boy remained with the chief, and soon arrived at his village.
The captives were now well provided with food, but were compelled to sleep upon the cold ground in a wigwam. As the wigwam was often removed from place to place for the convenience of hunting, and the winter was approaching, the lodging became disagreeable, and the small children suffered severely. When the chief arrived at the Indian fort, he was received with great rejoicing, and every savage manifestation of respect. The shouting, drinking, feasting, and firing of guns continued several days.
The chief had not long been at home, before he went out on a hunting excursion, and was absent about a week. Mrs. Hanson was left in his wigwam, and ordered to get in wood; gather nuts, &c. She diligently performed what she had been commanded; but when the chief returned, he was in an ill-humor; not having found any game. He vented his spleen upon the poor captives, of course. Mrs. Hanson was roughly treated, and her son knocked down. She did not dare to murmur, however, fearing his anger.
The squaw and her daughter, sympathized with the captives, informed them that the chief was anxious now to put them to death, and that they must sleep in another wigwam that night. During the night Mrs. Hanson slept very little, being in momentary expectation that the chief would.=come to execute his threat. But the chief, weary with hunting, went to rest and forgot it. The next morning he went out hunting again, and returned with some wild ducks. He was then in a better humor, and all had plenty to eat. The same state of things occurred very frequently, and Mrs. Hanson was in constant fear of death. Sometimes she suffered much from want of food.
By this time, hard labor, mean diet, and want of natural rest, had reduced Mrs. Hanson so low, that her milk was dried up, and her babe thin and weak. By the advice of an Indian squaw, she made some nourishing broth for her babe, by broiling some kernels of walnuts, and mixing them with water and Indian meal. But her joy at the success of this invention was clouded by the action of the chief. Observing the thriving condition of the child, he made the mother undress it, and told her he intended to eat it as soon as it was fat enough. This was a terrible blow to the hopes which Mrs. Hanson had begun to conceive, and his cruel treatment of her and her children was aggravated every day, till, at length, he fell violently ill, and for a time lingered on the brink of death. He thought that this was a judgment of God upon him for his cruelty, and he professed repentance. After this he soon recovered, and the captives were better treated.
The chief, a few weeks after his recovery, made another remove, journeying two days upon the ice, while the snow was falling. Mrs. Hanson soon perceived the object of his journey. The chief, with the hope of obtaining a ransom for his captives, wished to get nearer to the French. He visited the latter, but returned in a very bad humor. Mrs. Hanson was compelled to lodge in a sort of hole made in the snow, and covered with boughs, in order to keep from his presence.
At length the captives were taken to the French, and after some trouble and delay, ransomed for six hundred livres. They were treated very kindly and furnished with all those things of which they had been so long destitute. One month after they fell into the hands of the French, Mr. Hanson came to them with the hope of ransoming the other children and servant. With much difficulty he recovered his younger daughter, but the eldest was retained by the squaw to whom she had been given, as she intended to marry her to her son. No means could induce the squaw to surrender the daughter, and the party were forced to return without her. The servant was ransomed. On the 1st of July, 1725, the party arrived home, having been among the Indians and French more than twelve months, and, having suffered every hardship which the captive of the Indian generally endures.
Mr. Hanson could not rest while his daughter remained in the hands of the Indians, and he resolved to make another attempt to ransom her. On the 19th of February, 1727, he set out on his journey, but died on the way, between Albany and Canada. In the meantime, a young Frenchman interposed, and by marrying the daughter himself, secured her freedom; the Indians acknowledging the freedom of their captives as soon as married by the French. The daughter returned to her anxious and suffering mother and sisters, and thus gave them some consolation for the loss of Mr. Hanson.
THE STORY OF SHON-KA
R. CATLIN met with many interesting adventures, while visiting the numerous and savage tribes of the great west, for the purpose of seeing and judging for himself, of their habits and modes of life. One of these he details in his valuable work, as “The Story of the Dog,” and as it is a fine illustration of the dangers encountered by adventurers among the Indians, and of the certainty of revenge which follows an injury, we here insert it:
I had passed up the Missouri river, on the steamboat Yellow Stone, on which I ascended the Missouri to the mouth of Yellow Stone river. While going up, this boat, having on board the United States Indian agent, Major Sanford – Messrs. Pierre, Chouteau, McKenzie of the American Fur Company, and myself, as passengers, stopped at this trading-post, and remained several weeks; where were assembled six hundred families of Sioux Indians, their tents being pitched in close order on an extensive prairie on the bank of the river.
This trading-post, in charge of Mr. Laidlaw, is the concentrating place, and principal depot, for this powerful tribe, who number, when all taken together, something like forty or fifty thousand. On this occasion, five or six thousand had assembled to