70 HISTORY OP course, and sink behind t"he western hills, this home of his will he marked but by a heap of ashes, and that that loving partner in the rugged journey of life, and these merry chil- dren who cluster around his knee, and himself, did they remain, would yield up to the tomahawk the price of British bribery. That noble chieftain was none other than the renowned Jo Brant. His generosity saved the white man and his family from a cruel death, but their hard-earned home vanished amid the wreathing curls of the crackling flames, as the chief had predicted, on the morrow.'^ The rude state of the roads at that period, being for many miles nothing but an Indian trail, prevented even the conve- nience of a sled, and much less a wagon. They collected a few things, the most valuable of which they contrived to tie in packs upon their horses, and the remainder they buried or concealed in the crevices of a ledge of rocks a short distance behind the house. A passing description of this family, as they appeared when the arrangements for their journey had been completed — the last box of goods had been carried and secreted — the cattle turned loose into the wilderness, and they, too, equipped and just ready to plunge into a forest for many miles unbroken by a single clearing in the direction they were to pursue. Upon one of the horses was Mrs. More and her two youngest children, one of which, a mere babe in her arms, she carried before her, and the other being large enough, was compelled to cling on behind, although, as he frequently assured the writer, when an old man, I used to sit upon his knee, and for long hours listen with breathless attention to the reminiscences of his child- hood, upon which he loved to dwell, that several times during that journey he came near being brushed off by projecting limbs overhanging the way; and that just as they had started the second day, having encamped for the night on the iden- tical spot which, after the country became settled, was reserved
