TOWN REPORTS.

CONESUS.-BY WM. P. BOYD.

WAR OF 1812-14.

It was scarcely twenty years after the first settlement of the little town of Conesus before her honored people, who had emigrated here from a land of plenty to that of a life of toil and hardship, were called upon to take part in what is known as the second war with Great Britain. This territory at this time was within a few hours march of the scene of strife, which was then raging along the Canadian frontier from Lake Erie to Lake Ontario. Among these hard working people in this vicinity were found many then with anxious anxieties, for the enemy had a large number of hired assasins in their service, in the shape of savages, who at this time were bedecked in their war paints, with their tomahawk and scalping knife hanging in their belt at their waist, waiting for orders from their superior officers to go forth and seek the life blood of their victims. The thoughts of Wyoming, Cherry Valley, Minising and Schohamit, to many of the settlers were fresh in their memory. When the war cloud thickened and darkened, it was imagined by many persons here, that an evil spirit was aboding over them and the same scenes that had been transacted at the above places would again be transacted here among them. For at this period they were only a few in number, surrounded on all sides by a wild, wooded forest, without a single block house or fort near them to flee to for protection. These were trying times for a mother's devotion; for at sunset at night she knew not but by the sunrise of the morn she and her children, the pride of her life, would be quietly sleeping in another world. And here, they, the settlers, for two long years lived in perpetual fear and misery.

The storm-cloud still increased. The enemy concentrated their forces at Niagara. By so doing it roused up the spirit of every settler here for protection. The first move made by them was to raise a company of men to be known as "Minute Men." These were men to be held at home in readiness to go at a moment's notice. While these men remained here they all rested in safety. But the final hour at last came for them to go. Carriers had been sent

from Buffalo to the town informing them that the enemy was advancing. So, slinging over their shoulders the muskets and powder horns, and strapping to their waists their swords, went forth-the old, the young, the middle aged, and even the cripples to repel and drive back the foe. As soon as the militia men had set out. fear was seen depicted upon the countenance of every woman and child, for they soon saw the helpless condition in which they had been left in case of an sudden attack, causing many suggestions by them as to what course they should persue if the enemy should come suddenly upon them. So on one bright sunny afternoon, the last of June, the ladies met by appointment at the residence of an old settler named Jonathan Richardson, who with his family lived in a log house that stood upon the lands now owned by W. W. Wheeler, a little south of the present village of South Livonia. So here met the maiden, the middle aged and still older in consultation. This log house was the largest in the vicinity, made of · hewn logs, with walls eight or ten inches in thickness. So after remaining here a short time in discussing topics of the day, it was finally decided to use this building as a place of retreat if it could be proven that its walls were bullet proof. But this was a complex question that none of them could answer. But at last it was decided to engage the service of Mr. Richardson, whose advanced age had excluded him from going to the field, to take a heavy musket he owned and go forth with them a short distance and shoot into the side of the building to see if the balls would penetrate the same. He done so and they all returned to see the result. They examined closely the walls, the cracks and crevices between the logs, but found that none of the balls had penetrated the humble domicile. That night when they parted it was with a lighter heart, for they had imagined they had found a place of refuge in case of the advancement of the foe.

As I have stated, it was the last of the month of June, or the fore part of July, 1812, when the news came calling for the militia men. The day of their leaving the town was a sad day in the hearts of many. The parting of the mothers, sisters and friends of those going forth (none knew how many would return,) made many sad scenes. One of these dramas of life we are called upon to relate was the parting of a young man whose name was James Henderson, a son of one of the first "settlers" of the town, with the family of James McNinch, whom he was boarding with at the head of Conesus Lake. James was a young man of some twentyfour or five years of age, with a bright and active intelligence. few years previous to this he had been engaged in teaching the district school at South Livonia, and while engaged in this occupa tion in the winter of 1811-12, an incident transpired in his everyday life which showed him to be a young man of great bravery and courage. This incident was in relation to his killing a mad wolf, which was found running then through the forest of Conesus and Livonia, biting cattle, sheep etc., and causing a general alarm, as

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several settlers had narrowly escaped receiving the same fate. At the breaking out of the war James held a major's commission in a company of militia, and as I have related, was at the time living in the family of James McNinch,at the head of Conesus lake, whose wife was a good Christian lady, with a kind heart, and to him was equal to that of a mother. The day before he left his company had been ordered forward to Niagara. This news to him seemed to be like the death knell of a departed friend, and the same disturbed him to such an extent, that night he could not sleep, and instead of resting his weary frame, he paced back and forward across the floor all night long with a sad and troubled countenance, and when morning broke in upon the valley, he fed his noble horse and made arrangements for an early departure. He then returned to the humble cabin for his morning meal, but like the sleepless night, he could not eat, as there seemed to be some power brooding over his mind that would not let him rest. So rising from the table, he buckled on his sword, went out, mounted his steed and rode away, without bidding his friends good-by. A few minutes later Mrs.

McNinch had occasion to go to the door. Looking down the road she saw James coming back. This occurrence to her she considered as a bad omen, and when he rode up, she kindly asked him what had brought him back. "I came back to bid you a good-by, Jennie," said he, as his voice trembled with emotion. “Ah, James," she replied, "tis bad luck to come back, you know," when she gazed upon his troubled countenance and saw that he was smothering back emotion. "On, Jennie," he answered, "my heart is too full, I could not go away without first bidding you all goodby." So again turning his horse he rode away, and she watched him until he disappeared from her view around the corner in the road. This was the last she ever saw of him, for the next courier from the field of battle brought the news to his friends that he had fallen upon the blood-stained field of Queenston Heights, July 25, 1812, while gallantly facing the foe, and was burried upon the field where he fell.

Another incident of this war we have to relate, was the hardship and fate of another Conesus boy whose name was Andrew Carter. At the breaking out of the war, Andrew was living with his parents in a cottage a little south of Foot's Corners, upon lands now owned by Mrs. McVicar. He was a bright young man of some eighteen or twenty years of age, and like many of the young men of his age, the excitement for adventure was heavy upon his mind, and he enlisted in one of the regular militia companies and was immediately sent to the front for active service. Being young and the pet of his father's household he became homesick and deserted. No sooner had he reached the hearthstone of his father, before officers, like hounds on a tiger's track, were sent in his pursuit. They came here to his father's house where they expected to find him, but to their bitter disappointment found Andrew to be a young man not to be found sleeping, for he had prepared a hid

ing place that none of them ever found. His hiding place that had furnished him a place of retreat, was near the Purchase gully, about one half mile south of his father's residence. From this gully ran another deep ravine to the east, and upon one of its banks stood a large hemlock tree, with broad, outspreading branches coming close to the ground and covered with a heavy foliage, while at the same time it was surrounded by other trees. In the top of this tree Andrew constructed a house or nest, by first placing among the branches limbs and sticks and covering them with leaves, and then he constructed over the same a roof made of bark to shelter him from the storms. Not far from the foot of the gully was the residence of James McNinch, who by occupation was a a miller, and by that occupation was exempt from service, and which caused him part of the time to be away from home. When the cold winter evenings came, Addrew would slyly steal from his hiding place and come to Mr. McNinch's residence for something to eat, and when Mr. McNinch happened to be at home oftimes he would stay all night, and when the dawn of the morn began to appear he would go back to his retreat. Oftimes I have heard Mrs. McNinch say, "He would sit by my fire and weep like a child, and when I saw the tears steal down his furrowed cheeks, it would fill my heart full of sorrow and sympathy for his unpleasant situation." Several times the officers came from Buffalo in search of him. They ransacked her house as well as that of his father's. They hunted the gullies and laid plans for his capture, but through her kindness he escaped. Yet each day she expected to have the news brought to her of his capture. But his nest sheltered him, and when the pleasant days of spring came his pursuers gave up the chase and he returned home again. Only a few years ago the Rev. Sylvester Morris informed me that he fell this memorial tree for wood, and in the top he found the same nest that had sheltered Andrew Carter. It had rotted almost away, and only a few sticks remained as he had placed them. The death and burial of this unfortunate man took place a number of years ago at Scottsburg, when he bore to his grave the love and respect of all who knew him.

The next incident of this war, was that of two brothers by the name of Joseph and Jonathan Richardson. At the time, they were living just over the line between the towns of Conesus and Livonia. Unfortunately both of these brothers were cripples, Joseph by not having the use of one of his legs, while one of Jonathan's was shorter than the other. When the news that Buffalo had been burned reached here, it aroused in their bosoms a feeling that they ought to do something in the defense of their country, but both being cripples everything looked dark to them. At last a bright thought struck them, and it was that they could do no better than to take their teams, gather together what few men they could collect and carry them to the field of strife. So at once, gathering their respective loads they set out and in a couple of days arrived at the American's lines. After remaining here a few days longer they

were called into the field of battle-a battle long to be remembered by the Americans as the Battle of Chippawa, Canada, fought on the 5th day of July, 1812. In this memorable battle, Joseph was killed by a ball passing through his heart, and Jonathan fell a prisoner into the enemy's hands and was taken to Montreal. While upon the way, being unable to keep up with the other prisoners, on account of his lameness, the British would prick him with the point of their bayonets, exclaiming in their language, "assa, assa in front," meaning for him to keep up. From here they sent him to Halifax, and after some four months imprisonment he returned home. When the friends of Joseph heard of his sad fate, they went immediately to Buffalo and then to the field where he fell and recovered his body which they found among other bodies gathered up for burial. He was readily recognized from the other bodies, although it bore the imprint of a savage's tomahawk on the forehead, and was brought home for burial, which took place at South Livonia a few days afterwards. A son of Joseph was with his father in the battle, and was also unfortunate to be taken prisoner, but in a few days made his escape and came to the Niagara river. After skulking along its banks for several days he hired a man to ferry him over, when he returned home after an absence of several months in the service of his country.

Mr.

The next of the Conesus men was Erastus Lewis, who then was living upon the town line between Conesus and Livonia. Lewis belonged to the "minute men, and when the news came that the British were advancing on Buffalo, aroused by his love for his home and fireside he equipped himself and turned out as one to oppose them. He was not long upon the line before he was called into an engagement which transpired upon the Canadian side of the river. In this engagement, the British were assisted by a large number of Indians, and when his company was placed in line of battle their position was behind a log fence, and when the enemy advanced they fired upon their advancing columns and then fell back. This movement was unnoticed by Mr. Lewis, who still kept his position until he had fired several shots, when he gazed about him and saw that his fellow friends had deserted and left him to oppose the advancing foe. Jumping up from his position he soon followed them, and as he done so the enemy opened upon him with their muskets, but Providence had interceded and he escaped unharmed and joined his comrades in safety. Yet when he had time he found that he had a narrow chance for his life, as a ball had cut a hole through the top of his hat large enough to draw a pair of woolen mittens half way out he had placed in the top of the same before the fight. When the skirmish was over, he reported to headquarters and his gun was taken away from him, as a large number of the minute men had been furnished with arms by the regular troop, and he was supposed to have been one of that number. Also, when he made his retreat, he flung away his knapsack and cartridge box which he never recovered, resolving rather to