Chapter III: Part 3

Daniel Boone, the famous hunter, fighter, and pioneer, regarded himself as a special agent intended by providence to convert forests into fields and to carry civilization to the wilderness. When we remember his many exciting adventures and marvelous successes, we are inclined almost to believe that he was a child of destiny.

One of the most singular experiences in his warfare on the savages occurred about 1780, when about two miles south of Owingsville. Boone was making one of his solitary journeys from Boonesborough to the Upper Blue Licks. As he came near a deserted station about twelve miles east of the present site of Mount Sterling, he perceived fresh signs of Indians; so he continued his journey cautiously until he came to a clear spring near the bank of Slate Creek. Here, as he was quenching his thirst, a ball whistled by and broke the bark from the beech that shaded the spring. Boone lost no time in reaching the creek, swimming to the opposite bank, and concealing himself in a convenient canebrake. He then cautiously parted the cane until he had gone about one hundred yards, when he observed two Indians coming warily towards the creek. He had slain so many savages that he was not satisfied with the thought of killing one of his adversaries, but determined that one shot should kill both. He therefore took aim at the foremost and as the other came in range he fired; and as one fell dead, the other, dropping his gun, fled with frantic yells of pain, for the ball had passed through the body of one and struck the other's shoulder.

Boone then very calmly crossed the creek, selected one of the guns left by the savages, threw the other in the creek, where it was found afterwards, and proceeded on his way to the Blue Licks.

A MAN OF STRATEGY AND SAGACITY

His father having died when he was only fourteen, Benjamin Logan found himself, according to the laws of Virginia, at the head of a family, and in possession of his father's estate. With his mother's consent he sold the land and divided the proceeds among his brothers and sisters. Since he wished to see his mother comfortably settled, he united funds with that of a brother and bought a small home, which was secured to her during her life.

Bidding his mother farewell, he soon made for himself a home on the Holston River. Here he remained a few years and after having served with both Colonel Bouquet and Colonel Dunmore in the expeditions against the Indians, resolved to try the western wilds of Kentucky. With two or three slaves, he came, traversed a great part of the wilderness with Boone and Henderson, and pitched his camp and built his fort in Lincoln County near the present city of Stanford. Bringing out his family the next year, he deemed it prudent to place them in the more securely fortified Harrodstown. But early in 1777 feeling more assurance of safety, he removed all his household to his new home.

Early in the morning of May 20, while some of the men were guarding the women as they were outside milking, Indians fired on them from a near-by canebrake. All fled toward the fort, but one of the white men fell dead, another was mortally wounded, and a third, Burr Harrison, was severely crippled. There were now only twelve fighting men to defend the fort, while the enemy numbered one hundred. Harrison ran staggering towards the fort, when he fell and lay all day within range of the rifles of the Indians, and in sight of his agonized wife; her pleas for help and cries of distress, as from her own place of safety she saw her husband wounded and helpless, touched the sympathy and tried the heroism of all.

All hesitated until twilight came, and it grew so dark the Indians could not distinguish objects moving around the stockade. As there were a great many large hogs in the vicinity, Logan covered himself with a small feather bed, made from the feathers of the numerous wild pigeons, turkeys, and geese, and leaving the gate crept hither and thither, on all fours, grunting and acting as if in search of something to eat. Finally he reached Harrison, apparently by accident. He suddenly seized him in his arms, sprang to his feet, and darted toward the fort before the surprised Indians sufficiently recovered to take sure aim. Amid a shower of bullets and arrows he and Harrison entered the gate in safety.

Enraged at the deception practiced upon them, the Indians vigorously assaulted the fort, while the inmates as vigorously defended it. Under Logan's lead they resolved to fight to the last, but the powder and ball began to run low. What should be done? These men, made of "sterner stuff," faced another danger. If the siege was continued, they must perish or procure ammunition.

Again the heroism of Logan shone forth. Assuring his wife and friends of a safe and speedy return, he, with two trusty companions, under the cover of the night, left the fort. They crept through the Indian lines, avoided the regular route through Cumberland Gap, rapidly traversed mountains and valleys, crossed rivers, pushed through brush and cane, reached the Holston, procured "powder and ball," and on the tenth night Logan reentered the fort, having traveled more than three hundred miles. His companions soon arrived with the ammunition, reenforcements were brought, and the Indians retired.

THE KIND-HEARTED INDIAN

About 1784, a party of pioneers left the Falls of the Ohio with the intention of descending the river. Reaching Yellow Banks, the boat stopped for a while. One of the party, a Mr. Rowan, taking a loaded gun, but no ammunition, wandered some distance from the shore and upon his return was astonished to find the boat gone. The crew had cause to believe a party of Indians was near, so hastened away without waiting for their comrade. The nearest settlement was at Vincennes, one hundred miles distant. So thither Mr. Rowan bent his steps until after three weary days of exposure and exhaustion he abandoned all hope and lay down to die. It was not long, however, before, hearing the report of a gun, he again took courage, rose, and made his way in the direction of the sound. When he came in sight, an Indian raised his gun to fire, but, seeing Mr. Rowan turn the butt of his gun, knew he meant to be friendly; so with a politeness that would have done honor to a civilian the savage promptly turned the butt of his also.

Learning the destitute condition of Rowan, the Indian hospitably took him to his wigwam, cared for him until his strength was restored, and then conducted him to Vincennes. Anxious to reward such unusual kindness, Rowan tried to prevail on the savage to accept a gift of $300; of this the Indian nobly refused every penny, but in order to please his recent guest finally accepted a new blanket, saying, "When I wrap myself in it, I will think of you."

SAVED BY THE HUG OF A BEAR

Though the records of pioneer life teem with startling encounters with wild animals, there really occurred a very unusual incident, when the life of a young man, named Downing, was saved by the hug of a bear.

In those early days, the people of that part of the country that is now Kentucky had to content themselves with very rough cabins and forts for their families, and with no outbuildings or inclosures whatever for their stock.

Instead of well-kept stables and excellent pastures, the stockade protected the cows, sheep, and horses at night, and the near-by forest was their home and grazing ground during the day. Although as close watch as possible was kept over these animals, they sometimes strayed so far away that it was necessary to bring them back or the Indians would take them for their own.

In the year 1786, in what is now Bath County, a horse had strayed off, and a young man named Yates requested another occupant of the fort, a mere lad named Downing, to go with him in search of the animal.

They traversed the woods in every direction all day, but in vain. About sundown, when nearly seven miles from the fort, in a wild valley, Downing became very anxious concerning sounds that seemed to follow his footsteps regardless of the direction he took. He repeatedly said that he heard sticks breaking and that he believed Indians were following them.

Yates, who was older, more experienced, and more inured to the perils of frontier life, laughed heartily at the fears of his companion, often inquired at what price he rated his scalp, and jokingly offered to insure it at a sixpence.

Oblivious to all danger, enjoying the discomfort of his companion, and wishing to display his daring, Yates began a rollicking tune as he boldly passed along; but young Downing, feeling "the better part of valor is discretion," and being sure from the ominous sounds that they were being followed, decided to discover if possible the hidden foe. He gradually slackened his pace, until his companion was about twenty or thirty yards in advance; then just after descending a small hill, Downing quickly stepped from the path and secreted himself behind some bushes. He was horrified a few moments later to see two Indians cautiously put aside the canebrake and peer in the direction taken by his companion.

Downing, fearful lest the savages knew his own hiding place, decided to fire upon them at once; but his hand was so unsteady from the excitement, that his gun went off before he took aim. Terror-stricken he fled in the direction taken by his friend, whom he soon met, returning to learn the cause of the firing. There was no need to inquire, for in full view the two savages were rapidly pursuing them.

True Kentucky chivalry was soon evident, for though he could easily have saved himself, Yates would not outrun his young companion, but kept by his side.

It so happened that a path diverged from the one taken by the whites, but rejoined it at a distant point. Knowing the country well, the Indians took this divergent path, expecting to intercept the pioneers at the point of reunion. Passing this point in safety, the white men soon came to a deep gully. Mr. Yates easily cleared it, but his companion, being very much exhausted, fell against the farther bank and rolled at full length to the bottom. He gave himself up for lost. Over went the two Indians like deer, so intent upon catching the foremost man they apparently did not notice Downing.

For a while fear kept him still, but finally thinking the Indians were far away, the young man walked to the shallow part of the ditch. Just as he reached a place so shallow that he was no longer concealed, to his astonishment and dismay he beheld one of the savages returning, apparently in search of him.

Having neglected to reload his gun, and seeing the Indian advancing upon him, he threw it away and again trusted to flight. The white man ran and the Indian ran. It was a race for life, but as they ascended the long ridge, so steadily did the Indian gain upon him that when Downing ran along one side of a big fallen poplar, the Indian passed along the other, evidently expecting to seize him at the upturned root. However, just there lay a huge mother bear and her cubs. So rapidly was the Indian running that by the time he had discovered Mrs. Bruin, she had discovered him; and though his salutation was an exclamation of horror and a plunge of his great knife, the bear only growled and hugged him close.

So happy was Downing over this timely meeting of his two enemies, that he joyfully fled to the fort, where he found his companion resting from his exciting race. Those in the fort soon received a vivid account of how Downing's life, providentially, had been saved by the hug of a bear.

A KENTUCKIAN DEFEATED THE BRITISH

There was born in Virginia, on November 19, 1752, a light-haired, blue-eyed baby boy who was destined to become the founder of our commonwealth, the father of Kentucky, and the captor of England's important outposts.

Leaving his home one spring morning in 1775, and stopping at the bend of the road to wave farewell to his mother, sister, and brother, George Rogers Clark, a young soldier-surveyor of twenty-two who had seen active service in Dunmore's war, started out for the wilds of Kentucky.

More than six feet in height, dignified, affable, manly, brave, determined, yet gentle, he at once commanded not only the attention, but respect, friendship, and leadership of all. Whether or not he came with an official commission, his military bearing, his superior intelligence, and his indomitable spirit caused him by common consent to be placed at the head of the irregular militia of this section.

George Rogers Clark returned to Virginia in the autumn, but in the memorable year of '76 came again to Kentucky to make it his permanent home.

He opposed the plans of the Transylvania Company, urged the settlers to try to effect a more certain connection with Virginia, and went over mountains, through mud, and amid difficulties and dangers, as a representative to the Virginia legislature, which had adjourned before he reached the capital.

Not to be deterred, he visited Governor Patrick Henry, who was at home sick, and impressed upon him the necessity of protecting the settlements in Kentucky. He then went before the executive council of the state and asked for 500 pounds of gunpowder to be used in defense of the stations. The council agreed to lend this to the colonists as friends, but said they could not give it to them as fellow citizens. At this Clark refused to accept the gunpowder and intimated intentions of appealing for assistance elsewhere, saying that, "A country that is not worth defending is not worth having." This reply caused the recall of Clark to the presence of the council, and the gunpowder was conveyed to Pittsburgh and delivered to Clark for the colonists.

At the next session of the legislature, through the splendid services of this same useful citizen, the territory which later became our commonwealth was erected into Kentucky County, of Virginia.

From this time on Clark was, by common consent, the moving master spirit in all the daring plans of his adopted state. With a seeing eye and an unsurpassed judgment he concluded that the Indian invasions were inspired by the British and that to stop this terrible warfare the colonists should strike at the fountain head. Accordingly he laid and perfected his plans for attacking the posts of Kaskaskia, Cahokia, and Saint Vincents (now Vincennes). Virginia voted to defray the expenses and gave Clark two sets of instructions, one public, ordering him to proceed to the defense of Kentucky, the other private, ordering an attack on Kaskaskia.

Descending the Ohio on flatboats or pirogues, he landed, May, 1778, three companies of troops and several families on Corn Island, near the Falls of the Ohio. He drilled his raw recruits, reenforced with volunteers from the country, and a few weeks later, amid a total eclipse of the sun, set out with his frail fleet of four companies of one hundred and thirty-five fighting men.

Landing on Owen's Island near the mouth of the Tennessee River, and striking across the country from Fort Massacre, or Massac, he began that wonderful march which won him undying fame.

Meeting a party of hunters recently from Kaskaskia, Clark secured from them important intelligence and an offer to guide his forces where by a sudden surprise they believed the place could be easily captured. On the night of July 4, he took the town of two hundred and fifty inhabitants without the loss of one drop of blood.

Most of the people were of French descent and had been taught by the British that the Kentuckians waged savage warfare. They were therefore terror-stricken until General Clark assured them that their own king, whose rule over them had been exchanged for that of the British by the treaty of Paris, 1763, had joined hands with America to stop the cruel war of the British and Indians. The French colonists were then overjoyed, said their French king had come to life, and offered to accompany the division that was to march to Cahokia.

On July 6, that post was also surprised and taken; the inhabitants were dreadfully alarmed at the sight of the "big knife," but were soon reassured by their relatives and friends from Kaskaskia.

Not satisfied with these brilliant successes, General Clark felt that he must also capture Vincennes, but M. Gibault, the village priest of both that place and Kaskaskia, volunteered to inform the people of Vincennes that the king of France had become an ally of the American colonists. Soon the American flag floated over that fort and from the Lakes to the Mississippi the powerful arm of the British was broken, and the many Indian invasions of Kentucky were discontinued.

A FAMOUS MARCH

News came to General Clark in January of 1779, that the British under Governor Hamilton from Detroit had recaptured Vincennes and were waiting only till spring to advance with hundreds of Indian allies on Kaskaskia, obliterate the Kentuckians, and break the power of Virginia west of the Alleghenies. Learning at the same time that Hamilton had only about eighty regular soldiers with three cannons and some swivels, Clark decided not to wait to be attacked, but to take the aggressive. He at once sent forty-five men on a boat to proceed to a point near the mouth of the White River with instructions, to allow nothing to pass, and to wait further orders.

Nine days after the important information reached him, General Clark with one hundred and seventy men started across flooded prairies, swollen streams, and inundated valleys. There is no more daring march recorded. Trudging through rain and mud, fording small streams, wading most of the time in deep water ofttimes to the armpits, they traveled without tents, depending on parched corn and the securing of game for food; at last they went for days with no nourishment whatever.

It took all the ingenuity of General Clark to keep up the courage of the soldiers. Sometimes he would plunge into the deep water singing a favorite song, when all would join in, fall in line, and sing as they waded. At another time, seeing the discouragement and despair in their faces, he blackened his face with gunpowder, gave an Indian-like war whoop, and plunged into the stream; again all followed. At another place a little drummer boy was placed on the shoulders of a tall man and told to beat as if for his life. The enthusiasm of the boy and his stirring music quickly renewed the courage of the soldiers. A division was placed in the rear with orders to shoot any who "dropped out," and the march was continued through the freezing waters.

Near Vincennes, they captured a Frenchman who had been duck shooting, and sent a letter by him to the French inhabitants saying that the fort would be stormed that night and they could choose between remaining quietly in their homes and receiving the friendly protection of the assaulters, or of going into the British fort and of abiding results.

All was then commotion and people rushed out from their houses to learn the news. By a stratagem of Clark's his men were so marching in a circle behind an elevation that as they passed and repassed, flying many "colors," each man was counted dozens of times, and the inhabitants of the place thought there was an attacking force of many hundreds of people at their gates.

For two days and nights, Clark's men besieged the fort. Their ammunition ran alarmingly low, yet Clark, Napoleon-like, was very demanding. At last the "Stars and Stripes" floated again over Vincennes, and thus was secured to our nation that vast tract out of which have been carved Michigan, Wisconsin, Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois, while the value to the colonists in Kentucky could not be easily estimated.

THE FIRST CHRISTMAS PARTY

When General George Rogers Clark had conquered the British and Indians in their stronghold in the Illinois country, he felt it safe for the few families he had left on Corn Island, near the Falls of the Ohio, to remove to the mainland, and so ordered that a fort be built there.

Rows of log cabins joined together around a hollow square constituted this structure; at one corner there was a cabin, double the size of the others, that was to serve as a storeroom. In this building took place the first Christmas dinner and dance in Kentucky, as far as any record shows.

The men ranged the forest and brought home rabbits, turkeys, deer, bears, and buffaloes. The women baked corn pone, hoecake and johnnycake, boiled and fried hominy, and prepared milk, butter, and cheese.

Forks were driven into the earthen floor of the storehouse. On rough, unhewn, uncovered boards laid above poles stretched between the forks, the feast was served. Wooden platters held the meats, wooden plates the bread, and wooden bowls the hominy. The centerpiece that decorated the table and proved the great dish of the banquet was an opossum baked whole, hanging by its tail on a stick of wood, which was suspended over the center.

The fiddler of the fort, an old negro named Cato, as well as every man, woman, and child, had been downcast for some time because the fiddle had only one string left. Patient Cato had tried horsehair and deer sinews, but no music could thus be made. Fortunately on Christmas eve a small boat landed near the fort and on it was a Frenchman with a violin.

It did not take old Cato long to inquire if the musician had any extra strings he would sell; learning that he had, Cato joyfully exchanged raccoon skins for the coveted strings, and gave the stranger an extra skin to tell nothing about the trade. Cato was intending to give the settlers a great surprise. Alas for his dreams! The traders from the boat being invited to the feast, the Frenchman happened to speak of an accident to his fiddle; whereupon he was besieged with requests to get his instrument and play, so they could dance. He reluctantly yielded, the table was cleared away, the older people and children ranged themselves around the walls, and the younger men and women impatiently waited on the smooth, dirt floor, until the music began.

The Frenchman tried in vain to teach the fashionable dances of his homeland to the backwoods boys and girls. At last, becoming discouraged and disgusted, he retired in a rage. Then the old darkey approached him and politely asked if he might play while his honor rested. He was told to "play on."

Soon to the music of old Cato's fiddle, the boys and girls were making merry by dancing the Virginia reel. Not till the midnight hour did either the dancers or fiddler weary or pause.

FORT JEFFERSON

Thomas Jefferson, the Sage of Monticello, the originator of many plans for the defense and perpetuation of our country, deserves a place of honor in the records of Kentucky, for the interest shown in this, the then remote part of Virginia.

In a message in 1778, Governor Patrick Henry of Virginia suggested that a post be established and fortified on the Mississippi; but it was Governor Jefferson of the same state who later expressly said that the plan must be executed.

Spain and France for years were zealous in their efforts to check the extension of the infant republic, control the great Mississippi, and make of Kentucky a Spanish province. Her geographical position and great river frontage caused them to realize her wonderful resources. So, to fortify the claim of the United States to the Mississippi as its western boundary, Thomas Jefferson, Governor of Virginia, engaged Dr. Thomas Walker with an able corps of surveyors to ascertain the point on the Mississippi River intersected by the southern limit of Virginia. He then, in 1780, instructed General George Rogers Clark to establish a fort and garrison near that point and afterwards to extend a line of forts to the north, both to offer protection and to establish possession. So in the summer of 1780, General Clark with 200 soldiers erected and manned with cannons a fort at a point about five miles below where Cairo now is and near Wickliffe, Kentucky. Adverse criticisms fell from many because of this division and depletion of forces, but as in all other enterprises with which he was connected, Jefferson built not for the present alone but for the future as well.

By an oversight Clark and his soldiers failed to follow Jefferson's instructions to secure from the Chickasaw Indians, who owned the land west of the Tennessee River, the consent to the erection of the fort. They thereby aroused a spark of resentment that erelong became such a flame that the Indians began harassing and killing the families outside the fort. By threat of death, they forced one captive to describe the true state of the fort, in which, to their surprise, they learned there were only about thirty men and two thirds of these were sick with malaria. Soon the Indians marched, one thousand two hundred strong, under the command of a Scotchman named Colbert; but for five days these weakened frontiersmen with little water and less food, except green pumpkins, held the fort.

Finally Captains Clark and Colbert met under a flag of truce, but failed to agree to terms. The fort even refused a demand to surrender, though told that the assistance they expected would not reach them. As night fell the Indians made a desperate assault, but the firing from one of the blockhouses so depleted and demoralized their ranks that they retreated. Reenforcements arrived soon after and the siege was abandoned.

Though Fort Jefferson from its isolated position was finally forsaken, yet "its evacuation was a signal for peace," and the Indians here no longer molested the white settlers.

"THE HARD WINTER"

From November to March, 1779-1780, the settlers of Kentucky suffered untold anguish from the severity of the weather and the scarcity of food. More pioneers had come into the wilderness the preceding summer and so increased the population that the products of garden, field, and forest were soon exhausted.

Deep, unmelting snow covered the land; many families coming by river were caught in the masses of ice, compelled to abandon their primitive boats, and encamp on the frozen shore; while the traveler by land found trails blocked with snow, creeks frozen solid, and the forest desolate. Horses, cattle, and many wild animals froze or died from want of nourishment, while so great was the extremity that the settlers were forced to eat the flesh of the animals that had thus fallen, and for months had to go without bread. In this severe cold, through the deep snow and over the solid ice, there could be little traveling. To secure supplies from elsewhere was impossible; and even when spring began to bring some relief, one bushel of corn brought, in the continental currency, from fifty to one hundred and seventy-five dollars. Complete relief could not come until the seedtime and the harvest home were over.

The Pilgrims were not more grateful on their first Thanksgiving Day than were the Kentucky frontiersmen when plenty again abounded.

WILDCAT McKINNEY

Though the pioneers of Kentucky endured many murderous attacks from the Indians, there were other dangers which were not trifling. One of the most exciting of these incidents was the experience of a man named John McKinney, who was employed at an early day by the people of Lexington, as their first teacher.

At that time Kentucky had no newspaper, and items of interest from the states beyond the mountains were eagerly greeted by all. In May, 1783, a traveler passing through the embryo city of what is now the capital of our famed blue-grass section, brought with him a newspaper containing the Articles of Peace with Great Britain. All were anxious to read them. The fact that the Articles had not yet been ratified did not lessen the interest of the citizens. A copy of any paper was a treat, and such news as the Articles meant great hope for the struggling settlers. As the gentleman would resume his journey the following day and take with him the much-prized paper, some of the citizens appealed to McKinney to copy the Articles of Peace.

At that time Lexington was only a cluster of about thirty cabins, and one which stood just outside the fort, near the present site of the courthouse, was used as a schoolroom.

Thither, the next morning, the teacher went to copy the precious news of peace. While busily writing, he heard a noise and glancing up saw a very unusual and unwelcome guest. A ferocious wildcat with bristles erect, tail curled, and eyes flashing, had paused on the threshold and was peering around the room. At first she did not see McKinney, but by some involuntary movement he attracted her attention, and she soon exhibited other than friendly emotions.

Having been accustomed to subdue the backwoods boys and girls by the awfulness of his frown, the teacher tried the same tactics now; but the cat was not to be frowned down. As the teacher reached for a rule she, with the ferocity of a lion, sprang upon him, fastened her claws in his side, and began tearing his clothes, mangling his flesh, and inflicting such serious wounds that the blood flowed copiously.

Knowing he could not long withstand her power and despairing of aught else to do, he threw his weight upon her and pressed her against the sharp corner of the table. Soon her weird cries were mingled with his calls of distress, and erelong the citizens knew something unusual was happening in the little schoolhouse. The women were first to answer the cry of alarm. Reaching the door, they paused to discover the cause of the commotion and seeing Mr. McKinney bending over the table, writhing and groaning, they at first glance thought that he had a severe attack of cramp, but quickly seeing the cat, one lady exclaimed, "Why, Mr. McKinney, what is the matter?"

He very gravely replied, "Madam, I have caught a cat."

By this time the cat was lifeless; but her teeth were so deeply imbedded in his side that the neighbors, many of whom had gathered by this time, had great difficulty in disengaging her.

The shock, the wound, and the loss of blood made McKinney very sick and weak, and for several days he was confined to his bed while the boys and girls enjoyed a holiday.

He lived to a ripe old age and was often heard to say he would rather fight two Indians than one wildcat.

HOW KENTUCKY WAS FORMED

When "the embattled farmers stood and fired the shot heard round the world," Kentucky was that portion of the "Old Dominion" that was destined to be the happy homes of so many men, valorous in the field and eloquent in the forum. The state to be, whose toast and boast has ever been her noble sons and fair daughters, was still called Fincastle County, Virginia.

The last day of 1776, the year that saw the sons of the colonies rise in the majesty of their manhood and declare they would no longer submit to the rule of King George, the Virginia legislature divided Fincastle County into three counties, and called one of them Kentucky. This so remained until May, 1780, when Kentucky County was divided into Jefferson, Fayette, and Lincoln. Then the name of Kentucky was abandoned until in 1783, when an act of the Virginia legislature united the three counties into Kentucky District. On March 3, 1783, the first court convened at Harrodstown; but no house there being large enough, a church, six miles distant, was the home of the first judicial proceedings.

An act of this court caused a log jail and courthouse to be built where Danville now stands. Immigrants continued to come to this "Eden of the West" and the three original counties were divided and subdivided until June 1, 1792, when Kentucky became the fifteenth star in the constellation. There were then nine counties with a total population of 100,000; from this embryo has come a commonwealth of one hundred and twenty counties, with an area of four thousand square miles, rich in minerals and timber, factories and fields.

From the mountains of the east and the blue grass of the central part, even to the "Pennyrile" of the far west, each son of the "Dark and Bloody Ground" loves the land settled by Boone, Kenton, and Clark.

KENTUCKY IN THE REVOLUTION

The youth of our state may feel that because Kentucky was not one of the original Thirteen Colonies to make the heroic struggle for freedom, that she played no part in establishing and extending our national government.

During this period, remote as was this part of Virginia from the centers of civilization, every road blazed, every settlement made, every victory over the red savage, had a far-reaching effect, not alone for the state in embryo, but for the national government.

Had not the pioneers of Kentucky, with the heroism of the Romans of old, subdued the savages, stopped their depredations, and secured to the mother state of Virginia that vast tract out of which have been carved Michigan, Wisconsin, Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois, the power of England, to-day, might cut our continent in two.

Kentuckians waited not for opportunity but made it.

At the battle of Point Pleasant, in October, 1774, where the noted "Cornstalk" met defeat, there were with General Andrew Lewis men whose name and fame furnish much of Kentucky history. There were Harrod, the Shelbys, the Boones, and other intrepid leaders who afterwards brought out from chaos our infant commonwealth.

The effect of this battle was more than local. It gave peace to the frontiersmen at the time the colonies were beginning the crucial contest with England and for a while prevented that barbaric warfare waged by the British and Indians united. So severe was the slaughter, it is said, that blood was found on each tree behind which the Indians and pioneers were posted.

In 1780 one of our pioneers who afterwards became our first governor, Colonel Isaac Shelby, was again in Kentucky locating lands that some time before he had marked out and improved, when he heard of the surrender of Charleston. A man with a soul so fired with patriotism could not be contented not to answer his country's call. He hurried home, secured volunteers, and did signal service in both North and South Carolina, and in Georgia. In a measure he overcame the defeat of Gates at Camden; by his momentous move, though not in supreme command, Colonel Shelby will ever be known as the hero of Kings Mountain, where the enemy surrendered after Ferguson with seventy-five officers and men had been killed.

This was at the darkest hour of the Revolution and has been called "the first link in the great chain of events in the South that established the independence of the United States." These conquests by Shelby in the South, coupled with those of Clark at Kaskaskia, Cahokia, and Vincennes, were as important in both immediate and future results as any that illumine the pages of the Revolution.

KENTUCKY'S PIONEER HISTORIAN

To view Kentucky in its primeval beauty and rugged grandeur; to talk face to face with Boone, Harrod, Todd, Cowan, and Kennedy, those hardy hunters who blazed the way and changed the uncertain trail to a broad thoroughfare through the western wilds; to experience the difficulties and encounter the dangers of those dreadful days--were experiences for one who would essay to write a history of the country, the times, and the people. Yet such were the advantages enjoyed by Kentucky's earliest historian, John Filson.

Born in Pennsylvania in 1747, given a common school and academic education, lured either by the spirit of adventure, the locating of lands, or the enthusiastic reports of the far-famed "second paradise" with its "happy climate and plentiful soil," Filson reached Lexington in 1782. Here he succeeded "Wildcat McKinney" as the second teacher in this "Athens of the West."

While engaged in teaching, Filson was securing information that was to give to the world, not only the first history of Kentucky, but the first authentic account of that vast, transmontane wilderness about which so many exciting experiences had been recounted.

It has been said, "he could ask more questions and answer fewer than any one of his time."

Active, observant, accurate, he gave, in his "Discovery, Settlement, and Present State of Kentucky," in 1784, a work of much merit. It contained the first map ever drawn of this state, showing the three original counties of Jefferson, Fayette, and Lincoln.

As this was before any printing presses had been set up in Kentucky or at any other point in the West, Filson carried his map to Philadelphia and his manuscript to Wilmington, Delaware.

This little book of one hundred and eighteen pages was deemed of such consequence that one year after its appearance, it was translated into French and published by M. Parraud at Paris. Three editions were printed in England by Gilbert Imlay, Kentucky's first novelist, who incorporated it in his "Topographical Description of the Western Territory."

Not only was Filson a historian, biographer, and teacher, but he was also a practical, skillful surveyor.

He led a restless, strenuous life. Soon after his first visit to Kentucky he was back on his native heath, again in the state of his adoption, next in the Illinois country gathering data for a history of that section, the manuscripts of which are now the property of the Wisconsin Historical Society.

In 1788 Filson was associated with Mathias Denman and Robert Patterson, the founder of Lexington, in the purchase of a tract of eight hundred acres opposite the mouth of the Licking River, where they planned a town, now the city of Cincinnati, but named by Filson, Losantiville,--the "city opposite the mouth of the Licking."

As the party deferred surveying and staking off lots for a while, Filson's restless spirit again urged him on; and, after surveying the Great Miami with a party, he ventured still farther alone and was never seen again. His friends supposed he was killed by the Indians; but there is no record of the time, place, or manner of his death, and nothing to mark his grave. His name has been aptly given to that body of earnest, eminent workers of Louisville, the Filson Club, who have done so much to collect and preserve the many interesting facts about Kentucky's early days.

SPANISH CONSPIRACY

Kentucky, the land of soldiers and statesmen, has erected in the hearts of her patriotic sons a monument, ever enduring, to Clark, Logan, Bowman, Scott, Shelby, Hardin, and scores of others whose work and courage won for us this fair domain. It can be truly said of each:

"An empire is his sepulcher,
His epitaph is fame."

Though these brave men had conquered the wild beasts and barbarous red men, there were still other forces to meet. When this far-away West, between the Alleghenies and the Mississippi River, began to prosper, homes were built, forests became fields, and products sought a market. As railroads were undreamed of, nature's method of transportation was their only outlet. To be able to load a flatboat with corn and other Kentucky crops, and float down the Ohio and the "Father of Waters" to New Orleans, would have made that city a great haven for the western pioneers. But Spain owned the mouth, and though Great Britain had ceded us free navigation of the river, Spain in the early nineties refused the free navigation and the right to deposit at New Orleans. Subsequent events will disclose how long this privilege was withheld.

We have elsewhere told how out of Fincastle County, Virginia, 1776, the county of Kentucky was erected, while in 1780 it was divided into the counties of Fayette, Jefferson, and Lincoln, and in 1783 they were united into a Kentucky District. But so far removed was this district from the capital of the commonwealth, so insurmountable were the natural barriers at that time, so inadequate was the mother state to protect the pioneers, that they began seriously to consider a separation and the erection of another member of the general government. Yet so great was their love for Virginia, it was only with the most delicate suggestion they began. Convention after convention met and adjourned with nothing more accomplished than a postponement of the desire nearest their hearts.

Vainly the people who had subdued this wilderness petitioned. Futile were the efforts of the national Congress or of the commonwealth of Virginia to grant their prayers. We can scarcely censure General James Wilkinson for wishing to cut the "Gordian knot of difficulty" by immediate separation and the erection of an independent government. At the same time the subtle music of the siren's song fell upon the ears of those who had won their homes through privations.

In June, 1785, Don Gardoqui was sent by the Spanish government to treat with the American government on any subject of dispute. The Honorable John Jay was commissioned to meet him, but the far-seeing members of Congress fortunately put the following check upon Mr. Jay: "That he enter into no treaty, compact, nor convention whatever with the said representative of Spain, which did not stipulate the right of the United States to the navigation of the Mississippi and boundaries as established by their treaty with Great Britain."

In a few months, Jay urged upon Congress a commercial treaty, which would, he claimed, redound to the benefit of the United States; the consideration on her part was "she should forbear the use of the navigation of the Mississippi for twenty-five or thirty years." Jay, that had stood "like a stone wall" at Madrid and Paris, was now willing to barter away the privileges of the nation for a mere sectional gain. Happily, only seven of the requisite nine states voted favorably, and the chimerical plot failed. The facilities for knowing the actions of Congress were not nearly so great then as now; so when a communication was made, 1787, from Pittsburgh by "A Committee of Correspondence for Western Pennsylvania" to Kentucky pioneers, viz.: "That John Jay, the American Secretary for Foreign Affairs, had made a proposition to Don Gardoqui, the Spanish minister to the United States, to cede the navigation of the Mississippi to Spain for twenty-five or thirty years, in consideration of some commercial advantages to be granted to the United States; but such as the western country could derive no profit from," the effect may be easily imagined.

The people sent out a circular letter and prepared to hold a convention to oppose such oppression; but learning that the project had failed, after merely meeting and discussing the subject, they adjourned without any action upon it.

In June, 1787, General James Wilkinson secured the privilege from General Miro, Commandante, of shipping a vast quantity of tobacco to New Orleans annually and of depositing it in the government's warehouse. More than ever he now urged the importance to Kentuckians of the free navigation of this great river, and the right to deposit at New Orleans. Meanwhile, the Honorable John Brown of Danville had been chosen to represent the Kentucky District in Congress. Again the frontiersmen were doomed to disappointment when news came that the government had postponed the admittance of Kentucky, indeed, would refer the question to the new government.

As Don Gardoqui had failed in his scheme with John Jay, he now very opportunely sought Representative Brown; with what effect may be read in this part of a letter from Mr. Brown to Samuel McDowell, president of the various Kentucky conventions: "In a conversation I had with Mr. Gardoqui, the Spanish minister, relative to the navigation of the Mississippi, he stated that, if the people of Kentucky would erect themselves into an independent state and appoint a proper person to negotiate with him, he had authority for that purpose, and would enter into an arrangement with them for the exportation of their produce to New Orleans on terms of mutual advantage." In a letter to Judge Muter, Mr. Brown sets forth the same, and in addition says: "This privilege can never be extended to them while part of the United States, by reason of commercial treaties existing between that court and other powers of Europe."

In 1788, at Danville, sat the seventh convention earnestly endeavoring to be loyal to both the people and the parent state. In this assembly General Wilkinson said: "There is one way and but one way, that I know for obviating these difficulties, and that is so fortified by constitutions and guarded by laws, that it is dangerous of access and hopeless of attainment, under present circumstances." He dilated on the population, production, and prosperity of the country and its inalienable rights to the Mississippi. With natural adroitness, he caused the Honorable John Brown to tell the convention, "That provided, we are unanimous, everything we could wish for is within our reach." Wilkinson also read a message he had addressed to the "Intendant of Louisiana" wherein he urged that should Spain persist in her refusal of the navigation of the Mississippi and cause a resort to arms, Great Britain would join the western people in securing it, and thus all Spanish-America would be endangered. Whatever individual profit Wilkinson derived from his connection with the Spanish authorities may be forgotten when we realize that he and the court party he represented would forever have fought any act to lose to Kentucky the navigation of the Mississippi.

June 1, 1792, Kentucky became the fifteenth state, and at last some of her trials were over. Still the British retained their forts and the Indians continued their depredations. At this time, the Revolution was shaking France from center to circumference. Remembering the aid of the French allies in our war for liberty and hating England with an implacable hatred, many of our people, especially the Kentuckians, were prepared to rally around the French flag.

Democratic clubs, modeled after the Jacobean clubs of France, sprang up; and the one at Lexington was so urgent as to pass the following resolution:

"That the right of the people on the waters of the Mississippi to the navigation thereof was undoubted, and it ought to be peremptorily demanded of Spain by the United States."

In November, 1793, the persons sent to Kentucky by Genet to arrange an expedition against the Spaniards at the mouth of the Mississippi, found a field ripe for harvest. They raised a company of two thousand men and induced General George R. Clark, at the head of the expedition, to accept the position of "Major general in the armies of France and commander in chief of the revolutionary legions on the Mississippi." He then proceeded to call for volunteers to reduce the Spanish forts on the Mississippi, and open it for free navigation. Flattering offers were made to all who would engage. Governor Shelby of Kentucky felt it was beyond his jurisdiction to attempt to restrain these forces. So, early in 1794, President Washington warned the people of the unlawfulness of such an undertaking, and the dangers of such an expedition. General Wayne was ordered to Fort Massac, to prevent the descent of armed men. Soon after, Genet was recalled, and his acts disavowed, and Washington's "friendship for all, but entangling alliances with none" was the policy of the hour.

In the summer of 1795, Governor Carondelet of Louisiana sent a messenger to Judge Benjamin Sebastian of the Court of Appeals of Kentucky, requesting him to send agents to New Madrid to negotiate with Colonel Gayoso on the subject of the Mississippi and regulation of commerce between the local authorities at New Orleans and the people of Kentucky. In the latter part of the year, Judge Sebastian went to New Madrid, thence to New Orleans, where he secured the promise of the navigation of the Mississippi and New Orleans as a place of deposit, with duty payable only on imports. Fortunately for posterity, news came that in October, 1795, a treaty was consummated with Spain which acknowledged the United States as extending southward to 31 deg., and westward to the middle of the Mississippi. It granted us the free navigation of that stream and the right of deposit at New Orleans for a period of three years, and a promise to continue these privileges longer.

Whether or not the proposals of Don Gardoqui and Baron Carondelet were merely a commercial consideration on the part of Spain, yet dastardly in the extreme were the futile attempts she made in 1797 to have Kentucky withdraw from the Union, seize Fort Massac, and become an independent government.

Money and arms galore were promised those infamous enough to enter into this conspiracy to extend the northern boundary of Spain's possessions east of the Mississippi to the Yazoo. Again Spanish conspiracy received a blow.

A KENTUCKY INVENTOR

Though the stalwart pioneers, dressed in their primitive suits of deerskin or homespun, pushed farther and farther into Kentucky, stopping not for privation or peril, danger or disaster, climbing cliffs, fording streams, fighting savages, yet they were not all merely unlettered backwoodsmen hunters and fighters. Though the education of nearly all was more or less limited, a number of these early courageous Kentuckians have made unusual contributions to the useful sciences. If not the birthplace, Kentucky was the home and the burial place of a trio who can claim priority in the invention of the steamboat.

In 1778 there came to Kentucky from Connecticut a man of vigorous intellect and remarkable powers of perseverance, John Fitch. He had formerly been a silversmith, clock maker, and lieutenant in the Revolutionary forces from New Jersey. Though made captive by the Indians and held prisoner for a year, yet in 1780, as he gazed upon the beautiful Ohio, he had the first conception of overcoming currents by a new mode of navigation. Retiring to his surveyor's camp he pondered, and, remembering the work of Watt with steam, concluded that boats could be propelled by the same power.

The story of his struggles, in petitions and disappointments, reminds one of Columbus, as he so long in vain sought aid to make his first voyage to America. In 1787, 1788, and 1789, Fitch built several boats, that made from four to seven and one half miles per hour between Philadelphia and Burlington. He petitioned the legislatures of a number of states as well as England, France, and Spain, and obtained not money, but the exclusive privileges of navigating certain streams by boats propelled by fire or steam. He became discouraged and finally despaired; he died at Bardstown, 1798, where his remains rest.

A pathetic circumstance connected with his invention is related. He wrote three volumes of manuscript, sealed them, and placed them in the Philadelphia Library to be opened thirty years after his death. When opened, they touchingly related his disappointments, brilliantly foretold the perfection of his plans, and sorrowfully and bitterly said, "The day will come when some more powerful man will get fame and riches from my invention; but nobody will believe that poor John Fitch can do anything worthy of attention."

By a coincidence two others, who chose Kentucky as their home, James Rumsey and Edward West, also were pioneers in this work. Both Fitch and Rumsey in 1784 exhibited their plans to General Washington. While Rumsey made his project public first, by means of a model, Fitch successfully plied a boat on the Delaware in 1785 and Rumsey on the Potomac the following year. Fitch claimed that he told Rumsey of his own plans to effect navigation by steam. In 1794, in the presence of hundreds of citizens, a miniature boat invented by Edward West, who had removed from Virginia to Lexington in 1785, proudly moved through the waters of the town branch of the Elkhorn, which had been dammed up near the center of the city.

In 1802 Mr. West secured a patent not only for his steamboat invention, but for a gun lock and a nail cutting and heading machine, the first invention of the kind in the world, reputed to cut five thousand three hundred and twenty pounds of nails in twelve hours. The patent of it sold for $10,000 and its operation enabled Lexington to export nails of her own manufacture to Louisville, Cincinnati, and Pittsburgh.

So, while it remained for Robert Fulton in 1807 to gain honor from his invention, yet when in 1813 he brought suit to establish his claims as the inventor of steam navigation, he was defeated by a pamphlet of John Fitch's, which proved conclusively there were inventions that antedated the _Clermont_.

OTHER KENTUCKY INVENTIONS