The latter bore her, struggling and resisting, toward the lake. Notwithstanding, however, the rapidity with which she was hurried along, she recognized, as she passed, the remains of the unfortunate surgeon, stretched lifeless on the prairie.

She was plunged immediately into the water, and held there, notwithstanding her resistance, with a forcible hand. She shortly, however, perceived that the intention of her captor was not to drown her, as he held her in a position to keep her head above the water. Thus reassured, she looked at him attentively, and, in spite of his disguise, recognized the "white man's friend." It was Black Partridge.

When the firing had ceased, her preserver bore her from the water and conducted her up the sand-bank. It was a beautiful day in August. The heat, however, of the sun was oppressive; and walking through the sand, exposed to its burning rays, in her drenched condition; weary, and exhausted by efforts beyond her strength; anxious, beyond measure, to learn the fate of her friends, and alarmed for her own, her situation was one of agony.

The troops having fought with desperation till two-thirds of their number were slain, the remainder, twenty-seven in all, borne down by an overwhelming force, and exhausted by efforts hitherto unequalled, at length surrendered. They stipulated, however, for their own safety and for the safety of their remaining women and children. The wounded prisoners, however, in the hurry of the moment were unfortunately omitted, or rather not particularly mentioned, and were therefore regarded by the Indians as having been excluded.

One of the soldiers' wives, having frequently been told that prisoners taken by the Indians were subjected to tortures worse than death, had from the first expressed a resolution never to be taken; and when a party of savages approached to make her their prisoner, she fought with despe ration, and though assured of kind treatment and protection, refused to surrender, and was literally cut in pieces, and her mangled remains left on the field.

After the surrender, one of the baggage-wagons, containing twelve children, was assailed by a single savage, and the whole number were mas sacred. All, without distinction of age or sex, fell at once beneath his murderous tomahawk.

Captain Wells, who had as yet escaped unharmed, saw from a distance the whole of this murderous scene, and being apprised of the stipulation, and on seeing it thus violated, exclaimed aloud so as to be heard by the Pottawatomies around him, whose prisoner he then was: "If this be your game, I will kill too!" and turning his horse's head, instantly started for the Pottawatomy camp, where the squaws and Indian children had been left ere the battle began.

*

*The Indian camp was on a little run of water, which entered the Chicago river, near Bristol and Porter's warehouse. It crossed Lake-street, near the market, and occupied what is now State-street. The above scenes it will be observed occurred, and the battle above mentioned was fought, within the limits of the present city of Chicago.

He had no sooner sarted, than several Indians followed in his rear and discharged their rifles at him, as he galloped across the prairie. He laid himself flat on the neck of his horse, and was apparently out of their reach, when the ball of one of his pursuers took effect, killing his horse and wounding him severely. He was again a prisoner-as the savages came up, Winnemeg and Wa-ban-see, two of their number, and both his friends, used all their endeavors in order to save him; they had disengaged him already from his horse, and were supporting him along, when Pee-so-tum, a Pottawatomy Indian, drawing his scalping-knife, stabbed him in the back, and thus inflicted a mortal wound. After struggling for a moment, he fell, and breathed his last in the arms of his friends, a victim for those he had sought to save—a sacrifice to his own rash, presumptuous, and perhaps indiscreet intentions. (See note 2.)

The battle having ended, and the prisoners being secured, the latter were conducted to the Pottawatomy camp near the fort. Here the wife of Wau-bee-nee-mah, an Illinois chief, perceiving the exhausted condition of Mrs. Helm, took a kettle, and dipping up some water from the stream, which flowed sluggishly by them, threw into it some maplesugar, and stirring it up with her hand, gave her to drink. "It was," says Mrs. Helm, "the most delicious draught I had ever taken, and her kindness of manner, amid so much atrocity, touched my heart." Her attention, however, was soon directed to other objects. The fort, after the troops had marched out, became a scene of plunder. The cattle were shot down as they ran at large, and lay dead, or were dying around her. It called up afresh a remark of Ensign Ronan's, made before: " Such," said he, "is to be our fate-to be shot down like brutes."

The wounded prisoners, we have already remarked, were not included in the stipulation made on the battle-field, as the Indians understood it. On reaching, therefore, the Pottawatomy camp, a scene followed which beggars description.

A wounded soldier, lying on the ground, was violently assaulted by an old squaw, infuriated by the loss of friends, or excited by the murderous scenes around her-who, seizing a pitchfork, attacked with demoniac ferocity, and deliberately murdered in cold blood the wretched victim, now helpless and exposed to the burning rays of the sun, his wounds already aggravated by its heat, and he writhing in torture. During the succeeding night five other wounded prisoners were tomahawked.

Those unwounded, remained in the wigwams of their captors. The work of plunder being now completed, the fort next day was set on fire. A fair and equal distribution of all the finery belonging to the garrison had apparently been made, and shawls, and ribbons, and feathers, were scattered about the camp in great profusion.

The family of the principal Indian trader having been moved across the river. Black Partridge, and Wa-ban-see, with three other friendly Indians, stood sentinels at his door. Everything was now tranquil. Even savage

ferocity appeared to be gorged. Soon, however, a party of Indians from the Wabash arrived, the most implacable of all the Pottawatomies.

Runners had been sent to all their villages, and information transmitted thither, that the fort was to be evacuated, that its spoils were to be divided among the savages, and its garrison to be massacred; they had therefore hurried on with their utmost speed, to participate in the exhilarating and awful scene. On arriving at the Aux Plains, they were met by a party returning from Chicago, bearing a wounded chief along. Informed. by these friends, that a battle had been fought and a victory won; that its spoils had been divided among the conquerors; and the prisoners scalped and slain, (and they not present,) their rage was unbounded. They therefore accelerated their march; and on reaching Chicago, blackened their faces in token of their intentions, and entered the parlor of the Indian trader before referred too, where the family were assembled with their faithful protectors around, and seated themselves, without ceremony, in silence upon the floor.

Black Partridge, perceiving in their looks what was passing in their minds, and not daring to remonstrate, observed in an under tone to Waban-see, "We have endeavored to save our friends, but all is in vainnothing will save them now." At this moment, another party of Indians arrived, and a friendly whoop was heard from the opposite shore. Black Partridge sprung upon his feet, and advancing to the river's bank, met their chief as he landed.

"Who," said Black Partridge, "are you?" "A man," replied the chief; "who are you?" "A man, like yourself." "But tell me," said Black Partridge, "who are you for?" "I am," said he, "the Sauga-nash."* "Then make all speed to the house," replied the former; 86 your friends are in danger, and you only can save them."

Billy Caldwell, the newly arrived chief, (for it was he,) thereupon hurried immediately thither, entered the parlor with a calm deliberate step, and without the least agitation in his manner, took off his accoutrements, and placing his rifle behind the door, saluted the hostile savages.

"How now, my friends?" said he, "a good day to you. I was told there were enemies here; but I am glad to find none but friends. Why have you blackened your faces? Are you mourning for the friends you have lost in the battle? (purposely mistaking the token of their evil intentions,) or are you fasting? If so, ask our friend here, and he will give you to eat. He is the Indians' friend, and never refused them what they had need of."

Taken thus by surprise, the savages were ashamed to acknowledge their bloody purpose; and in a subdued and modest tone, said they had come to beg of their friend some white cotton, in which to wrap their dead before interring them. This was given them, with other presents, and they quietly departed. (See note 3.)

* That is, the Englishman: one of the principal taverns in Chicago, is called the Sauganash.

Captain and Mrs. Heald, were sent across the lake to St. Josephs after the battle; the former was twice, and the latter seven times wounded in the engagement. The horse rode by Mrs. Heald, was a fine spirited animal, and the Indians were anxious to obtain it uninjured. Their shots were therefore principally aimed at the rider. Her captor being about to tear off her bonnet, in order to scalp her, young Chaudonnaire, an Indian of the St. Josephs tribe, knowing her personally, came to her rescue, and offered a mule he had just taken for her ransom; to this he added a promise of ten bottles of whiskey. The latter was a strong temptation. Her captor perceiving, however, that she was badly wounded, observed that she might die, and asked him if he would give him the whiskey at all events; he promised to do so, and the bargain was concluded. (See note 4.)

Mrs. Heald was afterward put into a boat in company with others, including her children, and a buffalo robe thrown over them. She was then enjoined to be silent, as she valued her life. In this situation she remained, without uttering a sound that could betray her to the savages, who came frequently to the boat in search of prisoners. Captain Heald was captured by an Indian from the Kankakee, who, having a strong personal regard for him, and seeing the wounded and enfeebled condition of his wife, released him without ransom, in order that he might accompany Mrs. Heald to St. Josephs. To the latter place, Mr. and Mrs. Heald were conveyed by Chaudonnaire and his party. The Indian who had so nobly released his prisoner, on returning to his tribe, found them dissat isfied; and their displeasure became so manifest, that he resolved to make a journey to St. Josephs, to reclaim his prisoner. News, however, of his intention preceding him, Mr. and Mrs. Heald, by the aid and influence of To-pa-na-bee, and Kee-po-tah, were put into a bark canoe, and paddled by a chief of the Pottawatomies and his wife, to Mackinaw, three hundred miles distant, along the eastern coast of Lake Michigan, and delivered to the British commander. They were kindly received, and sent afterward as prisoners to Detroit, where they were finally exchanged.

Lieutenant Helm was wounded in the action, and taken prisoner; he was afterward taken by some friendly Indians to the Au Sable, and from thence to St. Louis, and liberated from captivity through the intervention of Mr. Thomas Forsyth, an Indian trader.

Mrs. Helm was wounded slightly in the ancle; had her horse shot from under her; and after passing through several agonizing scenes, was taken to Detroit.

The soldiers, with their wives and children, were dispersed among the Pottawatomies, on the Illinois, the Wabash, and Rock rivers, and some were taken to Milwaukie. In the following spring, they were principally collected at Detroit, and ransomed. A part of them, however, remained in captivity another year, and during that period, experienced more kind. ness than they or their friends had anticipated. (See note 5.)

* Robinson, now living (1844) on the Aux Plains river, well known in Chicago.

NOTE I.

The present town of Chicago, derives its name from the river Chicago. It was once spelt Chikago. There was formerly an Indian chief of that name residing here; (it occurs once or twice in Bancroft's History of the United States ;) and it is said he was drowned in the river. Whether the chief derived his name from the river, or the river from the chief, we are unable to ascertain. The literal meaning of Chicago, is skunk, or wild onion; the latter of which was formerly abundant in the vicinity. The former, (Skunk river,) is probably the most accurate version.

NOTE II.

Captain Wells's heart was afterward taken out, cut in pieces, and distributed among the tribes. After being scalped, his remains were left unburied, as were also those of the children massacred as above stated, and the soldiers and women slain in the battle. Billy Caldwell, an Indian chief, the next day finding the head of Captain Wells in one place and his body in another, caused a hole to be dug in the sand, and his remains to be interred.

cre.

ΝΟΤΕ ΙΙΙ.

Billy Caldwell, who died but a short time since, was familiarly known to many of our citizens in Chicago. His presence of mind unquestionably saved his friends from massaHe was a half or quarter breed; his father was an officer in the British army, his mother a Wyandot woman; he was well educated in Montreal, before he came hither. Previous to the war of 1812, he was received and adopted as a chief among them, and called the Sau-ga-nash.

NOTE IV.

McAfee, in his history of the late war, describing this scene, says: "One Indian, with the fury of a demon in his countenance, advanced to Mrs. Heald, with his tomahawk drawn. She had been accustomed to danger, and knowing the temper of the Indians, with great presence of mind looked him in the face, and smiling, said: Truly, you will not kill a squaw?' his arm fell nerveless. The conciliating smile of an innocent female, appealing to the magnanimity of a warrior, reached the heart of the savage, and subdued the barbarity of his soul."

NOTE V.

Mr. Heald and Mrs. Helm, having eclipsed the most visionary tastes of romance with which modern literature abounds, lived for many years thereafter, highly respected. Their melancholy story surpasses in interest the tales of Lady Harriet Ackland, and the Baroness Reidsel, at Saratoga, during the revolutionary war, so happily told by General Burgoyne.

The foregoing narrative of the Chicago massacre, differing as it does, in many respects, from those hitherto published; the author takes occasion here to remark, that he has derived his information from witnesses now living, who know the facts thus related. He has also been aided by an interesting narrative thereof, written with great pathos, and recently published by Messrs. Ellis & Fergus, of Chicago, the copy-right of which is secured by John H. Kenzie, Esq.