A council of the leading chiefs only, called on the following day, which I rightly considered was to consult on the course to be pursued in respect to my demand. At last I was summoned before the great chief and a few leading warriors, and was instructed as to the course allotted for me.
I was then informed that when a child I had been stolen from the whites by a band of Canadian Indians who had by this course revenged themselves on the whites for some real or fancied wrongs; that I had passed through the hands of several tribes and had at last, as I already knew, been sold by the Siouxs to the Snakes, and remained with them until their union with the Copper Heads. The decision of the head men of the tribe was that I should join the train about to set out for the settlements, and should then proceed in company with a few picked warriors, to visit the remnants of the tribes in whose possession I had once been, in order to learn more of my former history. At the same time I was sworn to return to the tribe within a year after I left the train at St. Paul, and to ensure the fulfillment of this condition, my wife and children were to be retained in the old chief's family at the headquarters of the tribe. To these conditions I freely consented, and waited eagerly for the day when I should set out on my journey.
At last the day arrived and I took a farewell of my wife and children. The thought of them checked a little my eagerness to set out, but at length I left them, fully intending to return as soon as I could discover something of my former history.
CHAPTER IX
MATTHEW BRAYTON'S NARRATIVE
Return to St. Paul – Sick at Chicago – Sets out in search of his Parents – Reaches Cleveland – Gets his Story Printed – Visits Warren, O. – Attends Camp Meeting – Experiences Religion – Reaches Sugar Grove.
The snows of winter had begun to fall when our party set out on the route I had so recently traveled. The present company was placed under command of a son of the principal chief, he being also the brother of my wife. There is no reason for again describing the route, as we traveled in the same trail that we pursued with the former party, and this time there were no incidents of consequence to diversify the monotony of the progress. About the beginning of April, 1859, we reached our camping ground near St. Anthony, and on the 10th of that month I arrived with a detachment of the tribe at St. Paul. We remained here a few days, making inquiries of the Siouxs and Chippewas that occasionally came in to trade, and from them I obtained a clue to farther discoveries.
On the 16th of April I obtained leave from the chief to set out on investigations, promising faithfully to return to St. Paul in July, when the train would be ready to return.
To aid me in my researches I was accompanied part of the way by the chief himself and some members of the tribe, and our party was furnished with three ponies and five dogs. In pursuance to the information obtained from the Sioux and Chippewas, we proceeded in search of a party of Winnebagoes said to be located in Northern Wisconsin. After traveling some days we reached the Wisconsin river, and following it towards its source came on the Winnebagoes, who were making sugar in the woods. From them I obtained the particulars of my purchase by them from the Paw Paws, and was directed to a family yet living in Michigan who could probably give me some farther information.
Filled with hope I started, in company with my brother-in-law and the other Indians, for Chicago. We traveled through the woods and across the country, I acting as interpreter, being now able to speak English with tolerable proficiency. Before reaching that city I was taken sick, and on arriving there I fell into the hands of some sympathizing persons who placed me under medical care. My escort, finding that I had become so sick that I could neither prosecute my researches for some time nor return with them, quitted me and returned to St. Paul, leaving me only my faithful dog, Nawah.
I was very sick and do not remember much for two or three weeks, when I found myself in a hospital, with my long hair cut off close to my head and the paint scrubbed from my skin. To get it off they had used hot water, soap and sand, and in the process had transformed me from an Indian to a white man. I remained in the hospital for more than five weeks, and then I was discharged as cured, though still very weak.
On letting me go they gave me a suit of white men's clothing instead of my Indian costume, leaving me nothing but my stone pipe and my scalping knife. Nawah and I at once set out on our adventures, and my steps were directed towards the place where the Paw Paw family was said to reside. I found them after walking for two days, and then was directed to a small village of Pottawottomies in Branch county, Michigan. I walked to the place described, sleeping in the woods at night as had been customary with me, but I soon found that I could no longer do so with safety. With my long hair cut off and without my blanket and furs, I was unprepared for camping out. The result was that I caught a severe inflammation in my eyes that increased to an extent threatening my sight. I could no longer bear the light and had to walk with my head down.
On reaching the Pottawottomies I found they consisted of four families and their chief, Mr. Macgwagor. They had settled down to civilized life and were living as farmers. Mr. Macgwagor remembered the whole transaction in relation to my purchase from the Canadian Indians, he having been present at the transfer. He said the Canadian Indians had stated at the time that they had taken me from the south side of Lake Erie, and that, from their description, the party had probably brought me from Ohio, as they spoke of having crossed the Sandusky river during the journey on which they fell in with me.
On learning this I set out for Detroit and crossed over into Canada, but without obtaining much farther information among the few semi-civilized Indians and half-breeds that I met with there. All I could gather was that I had probably been taken from somewhere in the vicinity of Cleveland.
I now retraced my steps to Detroit and proceeded into Ohio, telling my story as I went and requesting information. At Fremont I fell in with a man who listened to my story with attention and remarked that he had formerly heard of a family named Todd, who had lost a little boy from the neighborhood of Cleveland a number of years ago. Acting under his suggestions, on the following day I got on the railroad train and came to Cleveland, where I arrived in the latter part of August.
I was in Cleveland about one day, making inquiries relative to the Todd family and telling my story, but without getting any information that was of use. The Todd family had removed many years since, and I could not learn their whereabouts. I had begun to despair of ever finding traces of my parents when a friendly colored man who had met me and learned my story, took me to the office of the Cleveland Daily Herald for the purpose of telling my story to the editors. We succeeded in finding one of them, Mr. J. H. A. Bone, in the office, together with another gentleman. I told my story to them and was cross-questioned by them very closely. In the end I was directed to an old citizen of the place for the purpose of making inquiries, and was told to call again and tell the result.
The person to whom I was directed was out of town, and I learned nothing farther that night. Several persons took considerable interest in my story and wished me well in my journeyings. Next morning I was on the street when I saw some furs and other articles of Esquimaux dress at the door of a building, and was told that a panorama of the Arctic regions was on exhibition, and that one of the men belonging to it – Thomas Hickey – had been in the far North. I went up to see him, and to him and the proprietor, Mr. La Rue, told my story.
I then accompanied Mr. La Rue to the office of the Herald, and there I again met Mr. Bone, who made me repeat my story and then printed it with a request that any person possessing information of probable use to the "Indian Captive" would at once furnish it.
The interest taken in my story by the editors of the Cleveland Herald has been the means of my return to my relatives.
I remained in Cleveland several days and my story excited much interest. Some persons furnished me with portions of clothing of which I stood in need, and I was furnished with food and sleeping room at one of the hotels. The people at the house were surprised at my refusal to sleep in a bed and to eat cooked meat or anything that had salt in it, but I could not endure the method of eating or sleeping used by civilized white people.
In a few days I learned that some persons in Warren, O., could probably give me some information, and thither I went, the Cleveland and Mahoning Railroad Company taking me without my paying fare. On arriving there I found that the people to whom I was directed had gone out of town to attend a camp meeting in Mahoning county. Some persons going to the meeting invited me to accompany them, and in their company I arrived at the camp meeting.
A short time sufficed to convince me that I had got on the wrong track and that I was not the missing son of Joseph Todd. Great interest was, however, occasioned by my story, and many questions were put to me. I showed the Presiding Elder papers given me in proof of my belonging to the Indian tribe and related my adventures. Finally I showed them my dog, scalping knife and pipe. The Presiding Elder, Mr. Anson Brazee, was so much interested in my story that he got me to repeat it to the whole meeting. I remained with these people throughout the meeting, and before it broke up I became thoroughly convinced of the truth of the Christian religion and joined the church of the United Brethren. In token that I had forever abandoned the bloody practices of heathenism I broke my scalping knife in two, giving the handle and part of the blade to Elder Brazee, and the other part of the blade to a circuit preacher, the Rev. William Mclntyre. When the camp broke up I accompanied the elder and some of the ministers to a conference in Stark county, and from thence went to Williamsfield, Ashtabula county, where I stayed with some farmers belonging to the church of the United Brethren.
After staying with these good people about a fortnight I went to Monroe, Ashtabula county, in search of some information that I expected to get there, but failed to obtain anything of use. I then accepted the invitation of Elder Brazee and went to his house in Pierpont, Ashtabula county, where I stayed a short time. From there I went to Conneautville, thence to Clark's Corners and to Connorsville. From that place the minister sent a letter to Cleveland stating that I had gone into Pennsylvania, and giving directions where I probably could be heard of.
I continued to wander from place to place, wherever the faintest hope existed of my getting any information, and in this way I visited Erie, Waterford, Wattsburgh, and finally reached Warren, Pa., where the Rev. William McIntyre was stationed. I remained with him a short time and then retraced my steps to Ashtabula county, after which I again returned to Mr. Mclntyre's and from thence went to Columbus, Pa.
My hopes of finding my relatives had now almost died out. Nearly six months had passed, but I seemed no nearer the object of my search than I was when I left St. Paul. Wearied out with fruitless efforts, I had resolved to make one more attempt, and if that failed, to abandon the search for ever and return to my tribe on the approach of spring. My eyes remained very bad, and I therefore labored under great disadvantages, having to be careful lest the inflammation should increase and destroy my sight. I had gone to school for a few days in Pennsylvania, but the state of my eyes compelled me reluctantly to abandon the idea for the present, at least.
From Columbus I went to Sugar Grove, Warren county, Pa., close to the New York State line. My intention was to remain there a day or two, and then set out for the Cattaraugus Indian Reservation where I intended making my last effort at obtaining information. If I failed there I meant either to return to the Rev. Mr. Mclntyre's residence and attend school for the winter, or go into Canada and remain with the Indians until spring, when it would be time to return to St. Paul. On the 18th of November I was at Sugar Grove when Mr. W. T. Smith, a farmer living in New York State, just across the line, drove up with his wagon early in the morning to take me to his house, where I was to stay a few days previous to leaving for the Cattaraugus Reservation. I little dreamed, when I arrived at the house, that the end of my journeyings was so near, and that the object of the search which I had almost abandoned in despair was already within a few hours of attainment.
CHAPTER X
FOUND AT LAST
The narration of the circumstances which led to the discovery of Matthew Brayton by his relatives requires us to go back a little from the point to which his account has brought the reader. The intervening years between the loss of Matthew Brayton by his relatives and the present time have caused many changes in the neighborhood once so excited in consequence of that loss. The red men clung for many years to their last foothold in Ohio. Four years after the loss of the boy, the Delawares left their village below Upper Sandusky, and set out for their new homes farther west. Two years afterwards the Senecas extinguished their council fires and sought a resting place nearer the Rocky Mountains. But the Wyandots held tenaciously to their homes, and eighteen years passed away before they finally consented to abandon Ohio to the exclusive occupation of the white race.
Fine farms now cover the site of the waste land and woods over and through which the weary hunt for the missing boy was conducted day after day. Towns and villages have sprung up where humble log cabins here and there stood in the incipient clearing, and the huts of the red skins have passed away forever.
The sturdy farmer, Elijah Brayton, who once returned to his cabin from the weary journey to Chillicothe after millstones, and was met by news that made the blood forsake his parental heart in a sudden rush, had passed by some years the allotted period of man's life, and is fast progressing towards his fourscore years. William, the boy of sixteen who had set out with his little brother on that search for stray cattle, but had returned without him, has reached the meridian of life, and sees around him a young family springing up. Long since, the paternal cabin near the Tymochte Creek has disappeared, and two or three miles away from it, somewhere in the direction where the two brothers had separated thirty-four years ago, a fine brick house has become the dwelling of the oldest son of Elijah Brayton. Up at Springville, some five or six miles farther to the northwest, and at no great distance from the trail on which the young boy was borne off by the thieving Canadian Indians, lives another brother, Peter, and one of the married sisters. Here also lives the patriarch himself. There are other sisters who mourned when their brother was lost, and they too are married. A son and daughter born to the patriarch of the family after the loss of Matthew, have long since died, and another son, Asa, younger yet, pursues the practice of medicine in the adjoining town of Carey.
The publication of the "Indian Captive's" narrative in the Cleveland Herald was the means of creating considerable interest in his fortunes. The story was extensively copied, and several letters were received by the editors of that paper from people in different sections of the country who had lost children many years ago; it was supposed by means of Indians. None of these letters afforded any clue by which the Indian Captive could trace out his family.
A weekly paper containing the story, copied from the Cleveland Herald, was sent by a friend to the Braytons, and this first gave them an idea that there might be a possibility of recovering the missing member of the family. On the 26th of September, one month after the first publication of the narrative, Dr. Asa Brayton wrote to the editors of the Herald, stating the manner in which he had met with the article, and giving some particulars of the method in which his brother Matthew had been lost. About a week afterwards a cousin of the Doctor called at the office of that paper, and made inquiries respecting the Indian Captive. He was followed in a few days by Mr. Peter Brayton, one of the brothers of the missing Matthew, who went to Warren, O., in search of the "Captive," but lost trace of him there and returned discouraged.
The interest in the subject did not abate, and from time to time the Herald gave some intelligence regarding the wanderings of the "Indian Captive." The more the Braytons considered the matter the stronger was their desire to satisfy themselves, and on the tenth of November, William Brayton, the eldest brother, who had accompanied Matthew on the morning of the day when the latter was lost, set out with the determination of not returning until he could satisfy himself as to whether the "Indian Captive" was identical with his lost brother, or not.
Previous to setting out, William was charged by his father to examine the man for two marks by which his identity could probably be established. One was a scar on the top of the head, caused by a razor cut which the father had made in lancing a boil, and the other was a scar on the great toe of the right foot, resulting from the cut of an axe.
William Brayton came to Cleveland and learned that the person of whom he was in search had been heard of in Northern Pennsylvania, and was directed where to go. At the place pointed out he struck the trail of the "Captive," and traced him to Sugar Grove. Here he learned that the man had crossed the State line into New York. The chase was too near at an end to allow any delay, so Mr. Brayton took along a doctor as witness of the interview, and set out for the house of Mr. Smith, where it was said that the "Captive" had gone.
It was seven o'clock in the evening when the two arrived at the house, and the daylight was fast fading into darkness. They knocked at the door, and, in response to an invitation from within, entered the house. A man, with his boots off, was drying his feet at the fire. Mr. Brayton stepped forward eagerly and enquired where the "folks" were, and was told that they were out doing some work in the yard. Mr. Brayton said he wanted them called in, and wished a light struck at once, following up the request with the question whether the man to whom he spoke was the "Indian Captive." On being told in the affirmative he became greatly agitated and proceeded at once to get a light. The "Captive" hastily drew on his boots, buckled his dog to his belt, and drew back with suspicion from the strangers. As soon as the light was obtained Mr. Brayton bade the "Captive" bare his head, and then both he and his companion examined the spot where his father had told them to search for the scar. The emotion of William Brayton may be imagined when the scar was plainly revealed to his eyes, unmistakable in its character, and situated precisely where he had been told to look for it. In an agitated voice he bade the man take the boot from his right foot, which was done, and there too, was a scar visible, just where it had been described to exist.
The emotions of William Brayton may be imagined, but cannot be portrayed. The brother for whose loss he had always reproached himself was at length found through his means, and the sorrows of thirty-four years were at an end. For some minutes he paced up and down the room, his whole frame convulsed with agitation. Then he turned to the cause of all this emotion, who sat perfectly astonished at the proceedings, and the "Indian Captive" was declared to be the long lost Matthew Brayton.
A letter was at once sent home, containing the glad news of the discovery, and, as soon as possible, the reunited brothers set out in the same direction.
At every station on the road home, crowds gathered, and at Carey, where they were expected to stop, hundreds were collected – old men who had searched for the lost boy – aged mothers who had held him in their arms – young men who had heard the story narrated by their parents. But the couple stopped five miles north of Carey, at Adrian Station, and at once started for William Brayton's house.
Here the family were gathered. The old man, seventy-three years of age, but still hale and vigorous – the brothers and sisters. When the eldest brother entered with his charge the intense feeling that prevailed the hearts of all in the room can scarcely be imagined – cannot be described. The aged father arose, placed his trembling hand on the head of the stranger, and searched for the scar, which he could scarcely distinguish through the mist that filled his eyes. Then he knelt to examine the foot. For a moment every breath was hushed, and the hearts of the other relatives almost ceased to beat. Then the old man tottered to his feet, and with a gush of tears – the stream of affection that had been pent up for the third of a century – fell on the neck of his son – Matthew Brayton! It is useless to attempt a description of the scene that followed. The father that had so long secretly mourned for his child, the household pet; the brother who never forgot that it was from his company that the little boy had passed away to a mysterious fate; the other brother who had been his playmate; the sisters who had fondled their little brother in infancy – all were gathered to share in that happy meeting. There was one absent whose presence was needed to make the cup of joy full to overflowing, but her motherly heart might perhaps even then be rejoicing in Heaven for the happiness on earth.
The news of the return spread like wildfire. The return was on Thursday the 17th of November. For days afterwards the house was besieged by anxious people eager to see the "boy" so long lost, and so strangely found. Old men who had shared with zeal in that weary and hopeless search thirty-four years ago, came up, and all who had known him as a little boy, acknowledged the identity.
At present Matthew Brayton, the hero of these strange adventures, is residing with his father and brothers, and has become somewhat reconciled to civilized life. He has abandoned his design of returning to the Indians, and is endeavoring to fit himself for the different lot now assigned him. He has attended school as frequently as the state of his eyes permitted, and can now read a little, as well as converse very readily in the English language. After his thirty-four years of wanderings and hardships it is to be hoped that he will now be content to remain among his family and partake to the full of the blessings of civilization.
* * * * *
The foregoing is a reproduction of a book published in 1860, giving the strange history of this Indian Captive. After returning to civilization, he resided for a few months in Carey and Fostoria, and made several lecture tours giving an account of his adventures and the manners and customs of the Indians.
This mode of life was too much of a change from the wild life he had been living, and when the war of the Rebellion broke out he enlisted in an Indiana Regiment, and went to the South to fight for his country. He proved a brave soldier, but while in the service he was taken dangerously ill, and after a short sickness died at Pittsburgh Landing in 1862.