Glowing reports of the Pioneers – Virginia and Maryland in motion towards the West – The first Catholic Emigrants to Kentucky – Dr. Hart – Wm. Coomes – The first Physician and the first School – The Successive Catholic colonies – Dangers on the way – Running the gauntlet – Indian attack – Death of McManus, of Cox, and of Buckman – The Savages and the Cross – Thrilling incident of the Late War – Mode of procuring salt – Domestic manners of the Early Emigrants to Kentucky – Furniture, food and apparel – Hospitality – Singular adventures and hair-breadth escapes of William Coomes – Incidents in the early history of Harrod’s Town.
The reports carried back to Virginia and Maryland, by the first adventurers who had visited Kentucky, were so glowing a character as to stimulate many others to emigrate thither. The new country was represented as a sort of promised land, with an exuberant and fertile soil; and, if not flowing with milk and honey, at least teeming with all kinds of wild game. This rich country now lay open to the enterprising activity of the white man; its fertile lands could be obtained by occupation, or purchased for a mere trifle; and the emigrants might subsist, like the Indians, by hunting, until the soil could be prepared for cultivation.
To be sure, dangers were to be encountered on the way to this beautiful region; and these dangers would perhaps increase, after the emigrant should be able to settle down at his new home. The reports of the first pioneers were interspersed with tales of horror concerning those who had been killed and scalped by the Indians, or who has been dragged into captivity and mercilessly burnt at the stake. But these frightful narratives, however much they grated on the ear, could not quench, or even check to any great extent, the growing spirit of adventure. Men and women, young and old, caught up this spirit; and soon nearly half of Virginia and Maryland was in motion for the west. In the brief space of seventeen years – between 1775 and 1792 – Kentucky, from being a vast unreclaimed wilderness, became a state of the Union!
The Catholic population of Kentucky emigrated almost entirely from Maryland; chiefly from St. Mary’s, Charles’, and Prince George’s counties. They were descendents of the good old Colonists of Lord Baltimore. Maryland was, in every respect, the great alma mater of the Catholics of Kentucky. She supplied them with people from her superabundant population; and she too sent out the first missionaries who broke to them the bread of life.
The first Catholics who are known to have emigrated to our State, were Wm. Coomes and family, and Dr. Hart. They both came out in the spring of 1775, among the very first white people who removed to Kentucky. They settled in Harrod’s station, at that time the only place in Kentucky, except Boonesborough and perhaps Logan’s station, where emigrants could enjoy any degree of security from the attacks of the Indians.
Dr. Hart was an exemplary Irish Catholic. He was one of the first physicians, if not the very first of the profession, who settled in Kentucky. He lived for many years in Harrod’s Town, where he was engaged in the practice of medicine. After the great body of the Catholics had located themselves in the vicinity of Bardstown, he too removed thither, in order to enjoy the blessings of his religion. He purchased a farm about a mile from Bardstown, embracing the site of the present burial-ground of Saint Joseph’s congregation. It was he who made a present to the church of this lot of ground, upon which the old St. Joseph’s church was erected. Towards the building of this, one among the oldest Catholic churches of Kentucky, he also liberally contributed. He was the first Catholic who died in Kentucky, and the first that was buried in the cemetery which himself had bestowed.
William Coomes was originally from Charles co., Maryland, whence he had removed to the south branch of the Potomac river, in Virginia. He emigrated to Kentucky, with his family, together with Abraham and Isaac Hite. On their way through Kentucky to Harrod’s Station, the party encamped for seven weeks at Drilling’s Lick, in the neighbourhood of the present city of Frankfort. Here Mrs. Coomes, aided by those of the party who were not engaged in hunting, employed herself in making salt – for the first time, perhaps, that this article was manufactured in our State.
Some time after the party had reached Harrod’s Town, the men of the station being all otherwise busily engaged, Mrs. Coomes, at the urgent request of the citizens, opened a school for the education of children. This was, in all probability, the first elementary school established in Kentucky. Thus the first school-teacher, and probably the first physician of our Commonwealth, were both Catholics.
Of the remarkable adventures of Wm. Coomes, we intend to speak more in detail at the close of the present chapter. We will have rapidly glance at the chief colonies of Catholics, who successively removed to the State, and of the dangers they severally encountered on the way. Our information has been carefully gleaned from the oral statements of many of the old emigrants, who are now fast disappearing from the stage of life.
The first Catholic colony which emigrated to Kentucky, after those already named, was the one which accompanied the Haydons and Lancasters. They reached the new country some time in the year 1785; and located themselves chiefly on Pottinger’s Creek, at the distance of from ten to fifteen miles from Bardstown. A few of them, however, settled in the more immediate vicinity of Bardstown. The selection of Pottinger’s Creek as the location of the new Catholic Colony, was unfortunate. The land was poor, and the situation uninviting. Yet the nucleus of the new colony having been formed, these disadvantages were subsequently disregarded. The new Catholic emigrants from Maryland, continued to flock to the same neighbourhood. They preferred being near their brethren, and enjoying with them the advantages of their holy religion, to all other mere worldly considerations. They could not brook the idea of straggling off in different directions, where, though they might better their earthly condition, they and their children would, in all probability, be deprived of the consolations of religion.
The Protestant emigrants to our State seem to have been guided by no such principle; and this may serve to explain to us their general superior advantages, in a worldly point of view. The all-pervading principle of Catholicity is union; while disunion, on the contrary, is the distinctive feature of Protestantism. And while on this subject, we may remark, in general, that, with two or three exceptions, the Catholic emigrants to Kentucky selected poor and unproductive land for their settlements. They followed each other like a flock of sheep: nor is this a disparaging comparison; for our Blessed Lord often adopted it as a favorite illustration of the distinctive qualities of His disciples.
A much larger colony of Catholic than just named emigrated to Kentucky in the spring of the year 1786, with Captain Jas. Rapier. They settled in the same neighbourhoods with those who had preceded them, in the previous year. In the following year, 1787, another colony came out with Philip Miles and Thomas Hill. Catholic emigrants continued to pour into Kentucky, during the following years. In 1788, Robert Abell emigrated thither with some of his friends.[1] In the year 1790, a colony came out with Benedict Spalding, from St. Mary’s county in Maryland. This was followed, in the ensuing year, by other emigrants who accompanied Leonard Hamilton. The greater portion of these named colonies located themselves on the Rollong Fork of Salt river, in the present county of Marion. After the cessation of Indian hostilities, and the treaty of Grennville, in 1795, emigration to the west was not attended with so much difficulty or danger, as before; and the number of Catholics who removed to Kentucky proportionably increased.
But before this period, the hardships and dangers which the emigrant had to encounter, both on the way and after he had reached his destination, are almost incredible at the present day. The new comers generally descended the Ohio river in flat boats from Pittsburgh. The Indians lurked in the forests, on both sides of the river, awaiting the first favorable opportunity to pounce upon their prey; to seize the boats, and to capture or butcher the occupants. The boats of Miles and Hill, in 1787, were fired on by the Indians, about twenty miles above Louisville: all the horses were killed, and likewise one man, by the name of Hall, who was acting as stearsman; but the boats fortunately escaped. We may also mention that one of the Haydons lost seven, and the other, three members of his family, from hardship and sickness, while on their way to Kentucky.
Descending the Ohio river, at that time, was like running the gauntlet between two files of savages. After the failure of General Harmar’s expedition, in 1790, the Indians, elated with their success, became still more troublesome to those who were travelling westward. They lay in wait, in large and formidable parties, for the boats floating down the Ohio; and many a death-struggle took place between them and the boatmen. In that, or the following year, the boat of Captain Hubbell, with nine men on board, was attacked by the Indians, who approached it in canoes. A desperate contest ensued, in which Capt. Hubbell had three of his men killed, and three wounded, himself having been shot through the arm. At length, however, the Indians were beaten off with handspikes from the gunwales of the boat, upon which they had seized, in the desperate attempt to board it. The boat escaped.[2]
The boat of Greathouse, which was descending the Ohio about the same time, was less fortunate. It was captured almost without resistance, and the miserable crew were hurried off into a dreadful captivity. In the same year, another boat, with some Catholic families on board, was likewise attacked, but it succeeded in effecting its escape. Some of the men were, however, killed, and among them, Mr. McManus, the father of the late estimable Charles McManus of Bardstown. His bereaved widow continued her journey to Kentucky, with the family, and settled in Bardstown. During the rest of her life she edified all by her exemplary piety, and died a most edifying death, on the 5th of October, 1825.
The following testimony of a distinguished contemporary, Judge Innes of Kentucky, may serve to show us how great were the dangers encountered by those who attempted to emigrate to Kentucky, during the time of which we are speaking. In a letter to Secretary Knox, written on the 7th July, 1790, he says: “He had been intimately acquainted with this district (Kentucky) from November 1783, to the time of writing; and that fifteen hundred souls had been killed and taken in the district, and migrating to it; that upwards of twenty thousand horses had been taken and carried off; and other property, to the amount of at least fifteen thousand ponds.”[3]
Nor were the emigrants more safe after they had reached their destination in Kentucky. The Indians continually prowled about in the vicinity of the new settlements, attacking them if they seemed left defenceless, and murdering women and children, or dragging them into captivity. In this spring 1788, the house of Col. Isaac Cox, about eleven miles from Bardstown, was attacked by them, and he was slain, his body being left in a dreadfully mutilated and mangled condition. In the year 1794, a Catholic man, named Buckman, was likewise killed, on Cloyd’s creek, near the Rolling Fork. In the panic which followed this murder, many Catholics left that settlement, and removed for a time to Bardstown, around which the people were more densely settled. One who remained at his house, is said to have made a large cross with charcoal, on the outside of his cabin door; and it is farther reported, that the Indians, seeing this sign, passed the house by unharmed. They probably belonged to those tribes of the northwest, which, many years before, had been taught Christianity by the Jesuit missionaries; and they may have still retained some remembrance of the principles they or their fathers had then imbibed. This may explain to us their respect for the cross; if indeed the story the thought worthy of credit.
This reminds us of another anecdote of a similar nature, which rests on the most respectable authority, and which we will briefly relate, though it does not properly belong to the history which we are attempting to sketch.
In the late war, an Irish Catholic, a deserter from the British Army, had enlisted in the American service. The regiment to which he was attached marched to the northern frontier, near which, about the year 1812 or 1813, it encountered a formidable body of British and Indians. The Americans were defeated and fled precipitately, the Irishman flying with the rest. The Indians pursued with the deafening war-whoop, and with uplifted tomahawks. The Irishman finding that he was about to be overtaken by a stout warrior, fell on his knees, and made the sign of the cross, and endeavored, as well as he could, to prepare himself for death. The warrior suddenly stopped, dropped his tomahawk, and falling likewise on his knees, embraced the white man, exclaiming: “You are my brother!” Meantime, other Indians came up and witnessed the affecting scene. The warrior told them of the treasure of a brother he had been so fortunate find; and, after a brief consultation, they determined to take the Irishman to their camp, and to constitute him their “father prayer.” The Irish Catholic gladly accepted the proposition, and remained with them for a few days, saying prayers for them, and teaching them the principles of the Catholic faith, as best he could. But knowing the fate which awaited him, if he should fall into the hands of the British, he told his Indian brethren that he was not a real “father prayer;” but that if they would permit him to go to New York, he would exert himself to procure for them a Catholic priest, who would teach them their prayers. The Indians assented to the proposal; and, on his arrival in New York, the Irish man related the whole adventure to Rev. Benedict Fenwick, S. J. – the present distinguished Bishop of Boston – who was then stationed in New York.[4]
The Indians probably belonged to the tribe of the Penobscotts or the Abenakis of Maine, whose forefathers had learned the Catholic faith from the Franciscan and Jesuit missionaries. This incident, and that previously mentioned, in which the sign of the cross was the means of warding off danger and saving life, remind us of the blood of the lamb, sprinkled on the lintels of the doors, by the Israelites in Egypt, to overt the scourge of the destroying angel.
The early Catholic emigrants to Kentucky, in common with their brethren of other denominations, had to endure many privations and hardships. As we may well conceive, there were few luxuries to be found in the wilderness, in the midst of which they had fixed their new habitations. They often suffered even for the most indispensable necessaries of life. To obtain salt, they had to travel for many miles to the licks, through a country infested with savages; and they were often obliged to remain there for several days, until they could procure a supply.
There were no regular roads in Kentucky. The forests were filled with a luxuriant undergrowth, thickly interspersed with the cane, and the whole closely interlaced with the wild pea-vine. These circumstances rendered them nearly impassable; and almost the only chance of effecting a passage through this vegetable wilderness, was by following the paths, or traces, made by the herds of buffalo and other wild beasts. Luckily, these traces were numerous, especially in the vicinity of the licks, which the buffalo were in the habit of frequenting, to drink the salt water, or lick the earth impregnated with salt.[5]
The new colonists resided in log cabins, rudely constructed, with no glass in the windows, with floors of dirt, or, in the better sort of dwellings, of puncheons of split timber, roughly hewn with the axe. After they had worn out the clothing brought with them from the old settlements, both men and women were under the necessity of wearing buckskin or homespun apparel. Such a thing as a store was not known in Kentucky for many years: and the names of broadcloth, ginghams and calicoes, were never even so much as breathed. Moccasins made of buckskin, supplied the place of our modern shoes; blankets thrown over the shoulder answered the purpose of our present fashionable coats and cloaks; and handkerchiefs tied around the head served instead of hats and bonnets. A modern fashionable bonnet would have been a matter of real wonderment in those days of unaffected simplicity.
The furniture of the cabins was of the same primitive character. Stools were used instead of chairs; the table was made of slabs of timber, rudely put together; wooden vessels and platters supplied the place of our modern plates and chinaware; and “a tin cup was an article of delicate furniture, almost as rare as an iron fork.”[6] The beds were either placed on the floor, or on bedsteads of puncheons, supported by forked pieces of timber, driven into the ground, or resting on pins let into auger holes in the side of the cabin. Blankets, and bear and buffalo skins, constituted often the principal bed covering.
One of the chief resources for food was the chase. All kinds of game were then very abundant; and when the hunter chanced to have a goodly supply of ammunition, his fortune was made for the year. The game was plainly dressed, and served up on wooden platters, with cornbread, and the Indian dish – the well-known homeny. The corn was ground with great difficulty, on the laborious hand-mills; for mills of other descriptions were then, and for many years afterwards, unknown in Kentucky.
Such was the simple manner of life led by our “pilgrim fathers.” They had fewer luxuries, but perhaps were, withal, more happy than their more fastidious defendants. Hospitality was not then an empty name; every log cabin was freely thrown open to all who chose to share in the best cheer its inmates could afford. The early settlers of Kentucky were bound together by the strong ties of common hardships and dangers – to say nothing of the other bonds of union – and they clung together with great tenacity. On the slightest alarm of Indian invasion, they all made common cause, and flew together to the rescue. There was less selfishness, and more generous chivalry; less bickering, and more cordial charity, then, than at present; notwithstanding all our boasted refinement.
We will close this chapter with a brief account of the singular adventures and hair-breath escapes of William Coomes, who, as we have already seen, was, with Dr. Hart, the first Catholic that came to Kentucky.[7] He settled with his family in Harrod’s Town, in the spring of 1775, and remained there for about nine years, sharing in all the dangers and hardships of his fellow- townsmen. Early in March, 1777, the Indians appeared in the vicinity of Harrod’s Town, to begin the memorable siege which was to last, with little intermission, for nearly four years. Mr. Butler, the historian of Kentucky, thus introduces the account of this attack; in which, as elsewhere, he follows Marshall.[8]
“On the 29th of December (1776), a large body of Indians attacked McClellan’s fort, on Elkhorn, killed McClellan, his wife, and two others, which drove the residue of the people to Harrod’s Town. This necessarily produced great alarm; it was soon much increased by an attack of the Indians on James Ray, his brother, and another man, who were clearing some land about four miles from Harrod’s Town, at the present residence of this venerable and distinguished pioneer. (Ray) The hostile party, consisting of forty-seven warriors, under command of Blackfish, a celebrated chief, attracted by the noise of axes, rushed upon the little party of choppers, killed the younger Ray, and took the third man prisoner. The elder Ray escaped by his uncommon swiftness of foot.”
The third man here referred to was William Coomes; but there was yet a fourth man, named, Thomas Shores, whom Mr. Butler does not mention. He, and not William Coomes, as we shall presently see, was taken prisoner by the Indians, at the Shawnee Springs. The historian’s statement does not tally with that of Mr. Coomes in many other important particulars. The statement of the latter[9] is briefly as follows; and we have not a doubt of its substantial accuracy.
The party of choppers alluded to, consisted of the two Rays, William Coomes, and Thomas Shores, who were engaged in clearing land, at the Shawnee Springs, for Hugh M’Gary, the father-in-law of the two Rays. On the 6th of March, 1777, the two Rays and Shores visited a neighbouring sugar-camp, to slake their thirst, leading Mr. Coomes alone at the clearing. Wm. Coomes, alarmed at their protracted absence, had suspended his work, and was about to start in search of them; when he suddenly spied a body of Indians – fifteen in number – coming directly towards him from the direction of the sugar-camp. He instantly concealed himself behind the trunk of the three which he had just felled, at the same time seizing and cocking his rifle. Fortunately, the Indians had not observed him, owing to the thick canebrake and undergrowth: they passed by him in Indian file, to a temporary log cabin, which the woodmen had erected for their accommodation.
So soon as they were out of sight, Coomes escaped towards the sugar-camp, to find out what had become of his companions. Discovering no trace of them, he concealed himself amidst the boughs of afallen hickory tree, the yellow leaves of which were of nearly the same colour as his garments. From his hiding place he had a full view of the sugar-camp; and after a short time he observed a party of forty Indians halt there, where they were soon rejoined by the fifteen whom he had previously seen. They tarried there for a long time, drinking the syrup, singing their war -songs, and dancing their war-dance. Coomes was a breathless spectator of this scene of revelry, from the distance of only fifty or sixty yards. Other straggling parties of savages also came in, and the whole number amounted to about seventy, instead of forty seven, as stated by Butler and Marshall.
Meantime, James Ray had escaped and communicated the alarm to the people at Harrods Town. Great was the terror and confusion which ensued there. The hot-headed McGary openly charged James Harrod with having been wanting in the precautions and courage necessary for the defence of the fort. These two men, who had a personal enmity against each other, quarreled and leveled their fatal rifles at each other’s bosoms. In this conjuncture, the wife of McGary rushed in, and turned aside the rifle of her husband, when Harrod immediately withdrew his, and the difficulty was temporarily adjusted.
McGary insisted that a party of thirty should be immediately despatched with him in search of Coomes, Shores, and his son-in-law, Wm. Ray: Harrod, the commandant of the station, and Col. James Rogers Clark, thought this measure rash and imprudent, as all the men were necessary for the defence of the place, which might be attacked by the Indians at any moment. At length, however, chiefly at the urgent instance of Mr. Pendergrast,[10] the request of McGary was granted; and thirty mounted men were placed under his command for the expedition.
The detachment moved with great rapidity, and soon reached the neighbourhood of the sugar- camp, which the Indians had already abandoned. Near it, they discovered the mangled remains of Wm. Ray, at the sight of which McGary turned pale, and was near falling from his horse, in a fainting fit. As soon as the body was discovered, one of the men shouted out: “See there! They have killed poor Coomes!” Coomes, who had hitherto lurked in his hiding place, now sallied forth, and ran towards the men, exclaiming: “No, they haven’t killed me, by Job! I’m safe!”
The party having buried Ray, and rescued Coomes, returned in safety to Harrod’s Town, which they reached about sunset. All hands then set to work to put the place in a state of defence; and on the next morning, the memorable siege commenced, which was destined to keep Harrod’s Town in danger, and in constant alarm, for several years. During this whole time the gallant little garrison was harassed day and night. Ten sentinels mounted guard during the day, and double that number at night. The whole number of fighting men in the station scarcely exceeded sixty. Their provisions and ammunition were often exhausted; and the obtaining of a new supply was attended with great danger. Yet it was frequently accomplished, in the very face of the besiegers. Small parties escaped from the fort in the night, and after having secured an abundant supply of game, in a distant hunting-ground, or obtained ammunition from a neighbouring station, returned with the same caution to the fort. James Ray was often a leader of these foraging parties.
The people in the station received their daily supply of provisions from a common store: there was an officer appointed to distribute the rations to each family, in proportion to the number of its members. Things were conducted pretty much on the same plan as in a regular army, or in a man of war at sea. The women and children shared in the gallantry of their husbands and fathers for the defence of the fort.
We find no mention, by either of the historians of Kentucky, of the following stirring adventure, in which Wm. Coomes was likewise an actor. In the spring of 1778, he was one of a party of thirty men, sent out under Col. Bowman, for the purpose of shelling corn at a plantation about seven miles distant from Harrod’s Town. The men were divided into pairs, each of which had a large sack, which was to be filled and brought back to the fort. While engaged in filling the sacks, they were fired on by a party of about forty Indians, who had lain concealed in the neighbouring canebrake. At the first fire seven of the white men were shot down, and among them a Mr. H Berry, the person standing by the side of Wm. Coomes, whose face was bespattered with the blood from the wounds of his fallen comrade. Eight others of the white men fled for shelter to the canebrake; but the rest of them, rallied by the loud cries of Col. Bowman, seized their rifles, and, sheltering themselves in an adjoining cabin, or behind the trees, prepared to defend themselves to the last. One of the men, observing the face of Coomes reddened with blood, mistook him for an Indian, and was levelling his rifle at him, when the latter, fortunately remarking his movement, cried out, and thus saved his life.
Meantime, Col. Bowman despatched a courier on horseback to Harrod’s Town, to carry the alarm, and to obtain a reinforcement. The messenger sped his way unharmed to the fort, though many a rifle was aimed at him, and though another strong party of savages were lying in ambush on the way he had to travel. In a few hours, the expected reinforcement arrived; when the Indians, baffled in their object, betook themselves to flight. The white men, after burying their dead, returned to Harrod’s Town in the evening, with their replenished sacks of corn.
This adventure was but one out of a hundred of similar character which occurred in the vicinity of Harrod’s Town, during the four years’ siege of that station.[11] So fully resolved were the Indians to break up this fort, that they had erected a counter fort in the neighbourhood of the place. This Indian station was discovered by one of the small foraging parties from Harrod’s Town. A detachment was immediately sent out, which, after a short contest, succeeded in dislodging the Indians from this stronghold, which was reduced to ashes.
We have entered into all these details, because they appear to us to throw some additional light on the early history of Harrod’s Town: and because they also serve to show us what dangers the first Catholic emigrants to Kentucky shared, in common with their brethren of other denominations. The siege of Harrod’s Station continued, till the year 1781, when about a hundred additional emigrants, chiefly from Virginia, took up their residence in the place. The Indians then gave up the siege in despair, and returned to their own wigwams in the northwest.
William Coomes, after residing for nearly nine years in Harrod’s Town,[12] removed, in 1783, to the vicinity of Bardstown, in order to be near his Catholic brethren, and to enjoy the advantages of his holy religion. He lived here for many years, and died in a good old age.
[1] Robert Abell was one of the Delegates to the Convention which framed our State Constitution; and he was the only Catholic in that body. The following incident may not be here inappropriate. The Convention had agreed that each of the delegates might draw up a draught of the new Constitution; and that, on the debate in regard to each provision, those should be selected from the respective draughts which should be deemed best by the majority of the delegates. Robert abell had two room-mates;: the late distinguished Felix Grundy of Nashville, and a lawyer, who had been a Presbyterian preacher. The last named, one day called the attention of his two companions to a provision which he had inserted in his draught of the Constitution, which ran about as follows: “And be it further provided, that no papist or Roman Catholic shall hold any office of profit or trust in this Commonwealth.” Immediately, felix Grundy seized his pen, and indited the following clause in his draught: “And be it also provided, that no broken-down Presbyterian preacher shall be eligible to any office in this Commonwealth.” This clause he read to the lawyer-preacher, whom he further assured that he would lay it before the Convention, and advocate its adoption, the very moment the provision excluding Roman Catholics should be read before that body. The “broken-down” preacher looked blank, and no more was heard of his famous clause. This incident was related to a son of Robert Abell, by Felix Grundy himself.
[2] See Hubbell’s Narrative – and Butler, p. 195
[3] Political Transactions, p. 58 – and Butler, p. 195
[4] We are indebted for this anecdote, to the very Rev. Stephen Theodore Badin.
[5] This circumstance, as everybody knows, caused those places to be called licks.
[6] Marshall – History of Kentucky – vol. 1 p. 123. Edit. Sup. cit
[7] We have derived our information from Mr. Walter a Coomes, the son of William Coomes. He was a lad of about sixteen, when he emigrated to Kentucky, with his father; and he is now in his 74th year. He states that his father reached Harrod’s Town in the spring of 1774; but as this date does not seem to tally with those of corresponding facts stated by Butler, who follows Marshall, we have preferred the statement that Wm. Coomes emigrated a year later. This throws back, by one year, each of the dates mentioned in the original statement of Mr. Coomes.
[8] Butler, p. 42 – Marshall, vol. 1, p. 48.
[9] Furnished as, as we have said, by his son, who was at the time in Harrod’s Station, a youth then about 18 years of age.
[10] Who subsequently removed to Louisville.
[11] The Indians had a great dislike for McGary, whom they often endeavored to kill. On one occasion they left a fine moccasin in a road near Harrod’s Town, over which they expected him to pass. They intended to shoot him as he stopped to pick up thek moccasin. But McGary, suspecting their plan, but spurs to his horse, and escaped, though more than one rifle ball whistled by his head.
[12] William Coomes had a son, who fought in the Battle of Blue Licks, from which he nearly escaped with his life.
Just a Fat Sassy Grandma 