A Narrative of the Life of Mrs. Mary JemisonSeaver, James E. (James Everett)
History
A Narrative of the Life of Mrs. Mary Jemison
Seaver, James E. (James Everett)
Jemison, Mary, 1743-1833; Seneca Indians
The season for hunting being passed, we all returned in the spring to
the mouth of the river Shenanjee, to the houses and fields we had left
in the fall before. There we again planted our corn, squashes, and
beans, on the fields that we occupied the preceding summer.
About planting time, our Indians all went up to Fort Pitt, to make peace
with the British, and took me with them. [Footnote: History is silent
as to any treaty having been made between the English, and French and
Indians, at that time; though it is possible that a truce was agreed
upon, and that the parties met for the purpose of concluding a treaty of
peace.] We landed on the opposite side of the river from the fort, and
encamped for the night. Early the next morning the Indians took me over
to the fort to see the white people that were there. It was then that my
heart bounded to be liberated from the Indians and to be restored to my
friends and my country. The white people were surprized to see me with
the Indians, enduring the hardships of a savage life, at so early an
age, and with so delicate a constitution as I appeared to possess. They
asked me my name; where and when I was taken--and appeared very much
interested on my behalf. They were continuing their inquiries, when
my sisters became alarmed, believing that I should be taken from them,
hurried me into their canoe and recrossed the river--took their bread
out of the fire and fled with me, without stopping, till they arrived
at the river Shenanjee. So great was their fear of losing me, or of my
being given up in the treaty, that they never once stopped rowing till
they got home.
Shortly after we left the shore opposite the fort, as I was informed by
one of my Indian brothers, the white people came over to take me back;
but after considerable inquiry, and having made diligent search to find
where I was hid, they returned with heavy hearts. Although I had then
been with the Indians something over a year, and had become considerably
habituated to their mode of living, and attached to my sisters, the
sight of white people who could speak English inspired me with an
unspeakable anxiety to go home with them, and share in the blessings of
civilization. My sudden departure and escape from them, seemed like
a second captivity, and for a long time I brooded the thoughts of my
miserable situation with almost as much sorrow and dejection as I
had done those of my first sufferings. Time, the destroyer of every
affection, wore away my unpleasant feelings, and I became as contented
as before.
We tended our cornfields through the summer; and after we had harvested
the crop, we again went down the river to the hunting ground on the
Sciota, where we spent the winter, as we had done the winter before.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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