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John Logan
The Mingo Chief "Tah-gah-jute"
From They Came From Ireland
by
F.W. Thorlton
The depredations committed against the Caldwells and their neighbors on the frontier during "Pontiacs War" were such that most fled their homes to the safety of the territory's farther east. But during the long terrors of the "French and Indian War" and "Pontiacs War," Robert and Charles Caldwell stubbornly would not leave their homes, and defended them many times taking to the safety of the fort only once. The following is an excerpt from J. Simpson Africa's "'History of Huntington County Pennsylvania":
"Many and severe were the trials and privations endured by the two Caldwell families, owing to their isolated position. But, however, being courageous and ever alert, were equal to the emergencies of the times. In defense of their homes and families they braved all dangers, and had the proud satisfaction knowing they helped open the wilderness and make it safe for all, and to them and their families the right to live in peace and quiet in the homes they gallantly defended.
These men by their courage and kindness won the esteem of the natives who dwelt in their vicinity and who were for years their only neighbors. They were always warned by these natives when danger from warring tribes was eminent, were better able to defend themselves and their families.
They only took to the safety of a fort or (forted) once during their life here and then only for a short time, and only at the earnest requests of a Mingo Indian named "Logan." Who at dusk in the evening came to the home of Charles Caldwell, south of the Juniata River, and told Mrs. Elizabeth (Bettie) Caldwell, (her husband being absent at the time), that they must leave at once for the fort, as the Kittanning Indians were on the war-path, and on a certain day would overrun the valley, plunder and murder all the white settlers they found. With tears in his eyes he begged her to go at once, and not to tell who gave her warning, for if they knew who had warned them he would be killed by the hostiles. Mrs. Caldwell sent word to Robert's Family, and commenced preparing for immediate departure.
On the arrival of her husband, they at once left with their family and stock for the fort, and were safely there when the attacks began, on the very day named by Logan. The Kittanning Indians war whoop echoed through the valley and when it ended they had plundered and murdered many of the settlers who had not taken to the safety of the fort, and had burned their homes. When the raids ended they left the fort and returned to their homes, where they stayed defending the homes for the remaining years of the Indian troubles."
Logan or James Logan the Mingo Indian, the Caldwell benefactor, the man who saved the Caldwell family from the bloody fury of Pontiacs warriors, was born in Shamokin Pennsylvania in 1725. Though his Indian name was "Tahgahjute; Eyelashes Stick Out," he took his English name from James Logan, the Secretary of the Province. His father was a Frenchman reared by Canadian Indians, and was later made chief of the Mingo and Orchyuga Indians. Up until 1774 he was a loyal friend to the white man and was well acquainted and friendly with the Caldwell families. While in the Kishacoquillas Valley Logan was a good and gentle man. He undoubtedly saved the Caldwells from being massacred by warning them of Pontiac's approach. He lived near Kishacoquillas Creek in Kishacoquillas Valley. He was not a chief during the time he lived near the Caldwells, but instead lived by himself, away from his tribe. Most of his contact was then with the White and he grew close to them. He bartered venison, and deerskins for the articles of the white man that he required. He was a proficient hunter, and loved the thrill of the hunt. He was described as a muscular man about 200 pounds, a full chest, and prominent features, not as dark as the other Indians of the area, due probably to his mixed blood. It was said he possessed a love for the jug. When he was sober he was dignified and reserved, frank and honest. When intoxicated he was vain, boastful, and extremely foolish, about the same results the white man achieved when he drank too much.
The white man's advance into the wilderness began to crowd Logans' love for seclusion and in 1773 he immigrated to the Ohio Valley, about 30 miles north of the present town of Wheeling West Virginia, on Yellow Creek. There he gathered his relatives, and some Cayugas from Fort Augusta, and built a village of log-huts. In May of 1774, a band of marauding Indians attacked a neighboring white settlement. About thirty armed and angry white men from the settlement, under the command of a Daniel Greathouse, bent on revenge, but not knowing the peaceful character of Logan, and his family, descended on the village and destroyed it, murdering twelve and wounding eight of the Indians. Among those killed was Logan's family. Logan was on a hunting trip during the attack. When he returned, he was appalled at the carnage committed against him by the white man he had always called friend. He buried the dead, cared for the wounded, and with a band formed by the survivors, took up the hatchet vowing revenge on the white man, that now had done him such a wrong. He and his band went further west into the Ohio and joined the Shawnees, then at war with the English. There he bent a bitter, relentless fury, fired by a desire for revenge that was never quelled.
In the Autumn of 1774 the Shawnees met in counsel, under a tree near Circleville Ohio seeking peace with the white man. Lord Dunmore sent a belt of wampum to all the chiefs, including Logan, inviting a treaty. Logan refused to attend the council, but sent his historic speech in a belt of wampum, and in the Indian tongue an interpreter read it, to the meeting;
"I appeal to any white man to say if he ever entered Logan's cabin hungry, and he gave him not meat, if he came naked and cold, and I clothed him not. During the last long and bloody war, Logan remained idle in his cabin, an advocate of peace. Such was my love for the whites that my countrymen, as they passed said; 'Logan is the friend of the whites.' I had thought of living among you but for the injuries of one white man. Captain Cressap, last spring, in cold blood, and unprovoked, murdered all the relations of Logan, not sparing even the women and children. There runs not one drop of my blood in any living creature. This called on me for revenge. I have sought it . . . I have killed many . . . I have fully glutted my vengeance. For my country. I rejoice in the beams of peace. But do not harbor the thought that mine is the joy of fear. Logan never felt fear. He will not turn on his heel to save his life. Who is to mourn for Logan? ................Not One!"
Logan was wrong in the name of the man who lead the attack it was not Cressup, but Daniel Greathouse, but in everything else he was so very correct. Logan never recovered from his pain, and retreated to the bottle for comfort. On his return from a trip to Detroit in 1780, he was killed by his nephew in a drunken brawl. Logan was wrong in another aspect; there were many who mourned for him including this writer. For had it not been for Logan and his warning to the Caldwells that bloody afternoon, I would probably not be here today writing about this noble man.
The French and Indian War was one of the most significant occurrences of Colonial history. It expelled the French from Colonial America, severed the strongest bonds to the mother country, united the colonists in a common bond for the first time, gave important military training to the colonist, and lit the fires of freedom in their hearts, and created a colonial empire more than twice the size of the original. The frontier that, at the beginning of the war, was only a few miles west of the Caldwell's cabins, suddenly jumped 500 miles to the west. This new territory, like a siren's call, tugged at the heart and soul of the adventuresome Scotch-Irish.
The Caldwells, and the other Scotch-Irish on the frontier suffered greatly from the Indian wars. They and the few there with them were the advance guard. They blazed a trail through the wilderness far out into the frontier. Bearing the brunt of the Indian wars, and the Indians growing hatred for all whites, they were the first line of defense for their antagonists, the Quakers to the east. They endured these things courageously, and step by step advanced on a perilous path across the Alleghenies.
Judge Brown, a short time previous to his death, in the course of a conversation with R. P. Maclay, Esq., about Logan, said:-
"The first time I ever saw that spring, (Logan's,) my brother, James Reed, and myself, had wondered out of the valley in search of land, and, finding it very good, we were looking about for springs. About a mile from this we started a bear, and separated to get a shot at him. I was traveling along, looking about on the rising ground for the bear, when I came suddenly upon the spring; and being dry, and more rejoiced to find so fine a spring than to have killed a dozen bears, I set my rifle against a bush, and rushed down the bank, and laid down to drink. Upon putting my head down, I saw reflected in the water, on the opposite side, the shadow of a tall Indian. I sprang to my rifle, when the Indian gave a yell, whether for peace or war I was not just then sufficiently master of my faculties to determine ; but upon my seizing my rifle and facing him, he knocked up the pan of his gun, threw out the priming, and extended his open palm toward me in token of friendship. After putting down our guns, we again met at the spring, and shook hands. This was Logan-the best specimen of humanity I ever met with, either white or red. He could speak a little English, and told me there was another white hunter a little way down the stream, and offered to guide me to his camp. There I first met your father, (Samuel Maclay.) We remained together in the valley for a week, looking for springs and selecting lands, and laid the foundation of a friendship which never has had the slightest interruption.
We visited Logan at his camp, at Logan's Spring, and your father and he shot at a mark, for a dollar a shot. Logan lost four or five rounds, and acknowledged himself beaten. When we were about to leave him, he went into his hut and brought out as many deer-skins as he had lost dollars, and handed them to Mr. Maclay, who refused to take them, alleging that he had been his guest, and did not come to rob him; that the shooting had only been a trial of skill, and the bet merely nominal. Logan drew himself up with great dignity, and said,' Me bet to make you shoot your best; me gentleman, and me take your dollar if me beat.' So he was obliged to take the skins, or affront our friend, whose nice sense of honor would not permit him to receive even a horn of powder in return. " The next year,'' said Judge Brown," I brought my wife up, and camped under a big walnut-tree on the bank of Tea Creek, until I had built a cabin near where the mill now stands, and I have lived in the valley ever since. Poor Logan " (and the tears chased each other down his cheeks) " soon after went into the Allegheny, and I never saw him again."
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