spring of 1752, and through the succeeding seasons, the stories of Indian
barbarities inflicted upon the whites in those days, frequently excited in
my parents the most serious alarm for our safety.

The next year the storm gathered faster; many murders were committed; and
many captives were exposed to meet death in its most frightful form, by
having their bodies stuck full of pine splinters, which were immediately
set on fire, while their tormentors, exulting in their distress, would
rejoice at their agony!

In 1754, an army for the protection of the settlers, and to drive back the
French and Indians, was raised from the militia of the colonial
governments, and placed (secondarily) under the command of Col. George
Washington. In that army I had an uncle, whose name was John Jemison who
was killed at the battle at the Great Meadow or Fort Necessity. His wife
had died some time before this, and left a young child, which my mother
nursed in the most tender manner, till its mother's sister took it away, a
few months after my uncle's death. The French and Indians, after the
surrender of Fort Necessity by Col. Washington, (which happened the same
season, and soon after his victory over them at that place,) grew more and
more terrible. The death of the whites, and plundering and burning their
property, was apparently their only object: But as yet we had not heard
the death-yell, nor seen the smoke of a dwelling that had been lit by an
Indian's hand.

The return of a new-year's day found us unmolested; and though we knew
that the enemy was at no great distance from us, my father concluded that
he would continue to occupy his land another season: expecting (probably
from the great exertions which the government was then making) that as
soon as the troops could commence their operations in the spring, the