carried his rifle; the arm was broken, and his trusty rifle fell. The rest of the party and their horses received no injury.

What confidence, what self-possession was displayed by these men, in this terrific encounter! They beat General Marion and his sergeants hollow! They had come off unscathed in so many desperate conflicts, that their souls were callous to danger. As they had no rivals in the army, they aimed to outdo their former exploits. To ride into the enemy's camp, and enter into conversation with them, without betraying the least appearance of trepidation or confusion, proves how well their souls were steeled. This action of real life even rivals the fictious, though sublime muse of the Grecian poet. Homer sends forth his invincible hero, protected by the invulnerable panoply of Jupiter, to make a night attack upon the enemy. Diomede makes the successful assault upon sleeping foes. Not so our western heroes ; they boldly went into the midst of the enemy, while their camp-fires were burning bright, and openly commenced the work of death.

After having performed this act of military supererogation, they rode at full speed to where their captives were confined, mounted them on horses, and set off for fort Defiance. Captain Wells and McLelland were severely wounded; and to fort Defiance, a distance of about thirty miles, they had to travel, before they could rest or receive the aid of a surgeon. As their march would be slow and painful, one of the party was dispatched at full speed to fort Defiance, for a guard and a surgeon. As soon as Captain Wells' messenger arrived at fort Defiance, with the tidings of the wounds and perilous situation of these heroic and faithful spies, very great sympathy was manifested in the minds of all. General Wayne's feeling for the suffering soldier, was at all times quick and sensitive: we can then imagine how intense

was his solicitude, when informed of the sufferings and perils of his confidential and chosen band. Without a moment's delay, he dispatched a surgeon, and a company of the swiftest dragoons, to meet, assist, and guard these brave fellows to head-quarters. Suffice to say, they arrived safely in camp, and the wounded recovered in due course of time.

As the battle was fought, and a brilliant victory won, a few days after this affair took place, Captain Wells and his daring comrades, were not engaged in any further acts of hostility, till the war with the Indians was auspiciously concluded by a lasting treaty of peace.

A new and happy era was about dawning on the west. A cruel and exterminating war, of nearly fifty years' continuance, was closed by a general peace with the red men of the forest. The names and memories of these brave men, whose march was in the front of danger, should be held in veneration by the millions who now repose in peace and quiet on the territory they acquired at the risk of their lives, in a thousand battles.

It is very natural for the reader to inquire, what became of these men after the war terminated? What became of Thorp, Hickman, and the two Millers, I have never learned; but, if alive, they probably reside in some smoky cabin in the far and distant west, unknown and unhonored. The last I heard of the brave, hardy, and active McLelland, he had just returned to St. Louis, in 1812, from an expedition across the Rocky mountains. He had been to the Pacific ocean, at the mouth of the Columbia river. Such a tour, through uncultivated, unpeopled oceans of prairie, and then to labor through the tempestuous bursts of snow and sleet, which whirl in almost continual storms around the heights of the frightful world of rocks which compose the dreary Rocky mountains, where winter eternally reigns-this enterprise was equal to the daring genius of the man.

The fate of the brave and lamented Captain Wells was sealed during the late war, on the 15th of August, 1812, near fort Dearborn, at the mouth of the Chicago river, on the bank of lake Michigan, where he was slain in an unequal combat; where sixty-four whites were attacked by upwards of four hundred Indian warriors. Then fell as bold a spirit as ever shouldered a rifle or wielded a tomahawk.

A SKETCH OF THE LIFE

OF

GENERAL SIMON KENTON,

OF KENTUCKY.

For the benefit and gratification of those who may come after us, it is right to preserve, for future inspection, records of the actions of men, who have been instruments to prepare the way for settling the Western Country.

To dispossess the barbarous occupants of the almost boundless wilds of the west, required men of resolute minds; and whose bodily composition contained more than the usual quantity of lime and iron, to enable them to endure the fatigue and hardships they had to encounter.

It is a remarkable fact, of nearly all the old frontiermen, that although their trade was war, their hospitality was boundless. They relieved the wants of the stranger, fed the hungry, and clothed the naked. No traveller was permitted to pay for meat, drink, or lodging at their cabins.

General Simon Kenton was born in the month of March, A. D. 1755, in the county of Fauquier, state of Virginia. His father was a native of Ireland; his mother, whose maiden name was Miller, was of Scotch descent, her ancestors being among the first immigrants to Virginia. His parents being poor, he was, to the age of sixteen, employed chiefly in the culture of corn and to

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bacco. At this period, our country being governed by a kingly aristocracy, which lorded over the laboring classes in all the pride of a superior caste, the poor-having no motive for exertion-were not ashamed to be ignorant. Learning was then almost exclusively in possession of the clergy, lawyers, and commercial men, or the wealthy farmers, whose estates were entailed. Common schools were then almost unknown in the southern states. As the Kenton family were poor, Simon grew to manhood without learning his A B C.

Notwithstanding man is a free agent, and his future character and usefulness depend on his own choice, yet we see, on some occasions, uncontrollable circumstances fix his destiny: an invisible influence appears to guide his fate. In the sixteenth year of Kenton's age, an incident occurred, which gave a new direction to his mind, and apparently changed the destiny of his life.

The neighborhood in which he was brought up was sparsely inhabited, and implements of husbandry, not required for constant use, such as broad-axes, whip and crosscut saws, were purchased and used as common property. As was common, under such circumstances, social intercourse prevailed, and they were in the constant habit of assisting each other at house-raisings, log-rollings, corn-huskings, &c. Old Mr. Kenton had a neighbor by the name of Veach, with whom he lived on the most friendly terms. At this time, one of Mr. Veach's sons married a girl to whom Simon was much attached. The truth was, although he was only turned of sixteen years of age, he was deeply in love. There are few but know something of the frenzied feelings occasioned by disappointment in this passion. He, like most unfortunate lovers, felt himself exquisitely injured. Being of a warm temperament, and in his first love, his mind was in a tempest. He thought himself undone, and, in the heat of his passion, unbidden, went to the wedding, where mirth