THE eventful career of the sturdy, lion-hearted Israel Putnam has ever been the especial theme of historical interest to the American schoolboy; and the romantic and unusual incidents that color it are not likely to pass from his memory after attaining the years and sentiments of manhood. It is doubtful, indeed, whether the whole record of American history, colonial, revolutionary, and federal, can produce a character, who, in the quality of rugged, indomitable courage, is entitled to be named with "Old Put." With him this quality appears to have been an instinct, even to the point of recklessness; and the audacious affairs of the wolf's den, the powder-magazine, and the ride at Horseneck, seem to have occurred merely from the ordinary exercise of this amazing quality by the man who, as his tombstone truly declares, "dared to lead where any dared to follow." In other words, his lofty heroism was no exceptional or erratic display; it pervaded his whole nature, and stood forth at once upon any adequate call of duty. He was born, as is well known, in Massachusetts, but removed to Connecticut early in life, in which latter State much of his military service and several of his most conspicuous acts of daring were performed.

Western New York was settled, during the early part of the present century, in great part by emigration from Connecticut. Many of the pioneers of the Genesee and Niagara are still to be seen among us, white-haired and feeble in body, but enjoying with solid satisfaction the substantial fruits of their early industry and hardships. Going back only one generation from them, we find ourselves in the goodly company of the continentals and revolutionary patriots, with Putnam, Stark, Warren, and the rest; and very many are the reminiscences of this initial period in our na

tional history which might be gathered from the lips of these aged men as they received them from their fathers, of which written history has no knowledge.

I lately met one of these pioneers, a venerable and intelligent farmer of nearly fourscore years, who was brought by his father from Connecticut to his new home in the "Holland Purchase," so called, in his childhood. The father was a soldier of the Revolution, and had served under General Putnam in his own State. The incidents and general recollections of his campaigns, as he had related them to his son, in the spirit of the veteran who delights to

"Shoulder his crutch, and show how fields were won,"

were deeply interesting; and none more so than those relating to Putnam and his exploits.

"My father knew him well," said my informant, "and always spoke of him as the bravest man in the war. He never could mention his name without his eyes kindling and his cheek flushing with excitement; and he loved to talk about Putnam and his exploits above every thing else."

Believing that our own late struggle for our nationality has more closely endeared to us the memories of the men of '76, who struggled for it before us, I propose to submit to the reader, in brief, the most interesting of the anecdotes of Putnam that I received from the source referred to. It is so perfectly characteristic of the man, as history paints him, and the way in which it comes to me is so perfectly satisfactory, that I have no hesitation in expressing my entire confidence in its truth. It will be observed that the Indian adventure which forms the groundwork of the story bears considerable resemblance to one of Putnam's adventures which is minutely de

*

tailed in the histories, and which in one place I find succinctly stated as follows:

"The same year (1758), when returning to Fort Edward from an expedition to watch the enemy in the neighborhood of Ticonderoga, his corps was surprised by a party of French and Indians, and he himself captured and bound to a tree. While in this situation a battle between his own party and the enemy raged around him for an hour. The tree against which he was placed was part of the time in the hottest fire. A French officer, passing by, struck him in the jaw with the butt of his gun. An Indian amused himself for some time hurling his tomahawk into the trunk of the tree to satisfy himself how near he could come to the prisoner's body, and yet miss it. At length the party of French and Indians were forced to retreat, but carried with them their captive, whom the savages determined to roast alive. He was tied to a tree, and the fire was already blazing furiously, when his life was saved by the intervention of the French commander, Molang."

My informant was positive, however, that the adventure with the Indians which his father related to him was an entirely different one; and as its termination appears to have been so unlike this, and the early experience of Putnam in command of a company of rangers in the old French War was unquestionably filled with hazards and escapes not noticed by history, it appears to me that he is correct, and that the whole story may be taken as a new one. For greater convenience, I will allow the father to speak in the first person.†

There was in my company, in the Connecticut regiment that I served in during the Revolution, a soldier by the name of Patterson. He was a young man, and his father and grandfather before him had served in Putnam's Rangers against the French and Indians.

New American Cyclopædia, vol. xiii. p. 673.

† As the facts stated in this article possess a historical importance, the writer holds himself ready to furnish the address of his informant upon proper inquiry.

His grandfather was of course too old to take the field in the Revolution, and his father was laid up with rheumatism, or something of that kind; so Rufus, my comrade, had to sustain the honor of the family in this war-and well he did it.

Three or four times during our campaigns, when we happened to see General Putnam riding by the camp, or on the march, Rufus would say to me,

"Stephen, the first good chance I get, I'm going to speak to the General, and ask him if he remembers my father and grandfather in the old war twenty years ago."

I knew what he particularly had in his mind; it was an adventure that the General, then Captain Putnam, had with the Indians, in company with these men, father and son. I had often heard Rufus tell it, as they told it to him. It seems that Putnam was out scouting in the woods with only half a dozen men, these two with the others, when they were ambushed by a much larger party of Indians. The first volley disabled three of the men; the Pattersons escaped by flight; but Putnam, for some reason, was taken prisoner with the wounded men. The savages immediately proceeded to their horrible work of torture. Lying on the ground, unarmed, bound, and helpless, Putnam saw his unfortunate comrades taken one by one from his side, stripped, bound to a tree, and slowly tortured with a devilish ingenuity, the details of which are too shocking to repeat. When death had mercifully relieved the last of them from his torments, Putnam was himself tied to the tree, and the Indians began their caperings about him, brandishing their knives and tomahawks in his face, and shouting their exultation. The captive was fortifying his soul for the horrors of the fate that seemed to have overtaken him, and had abandoned all hope of earthly salvation, when it reached him in a most unexpected manner. The reports of two rifles were heard close to the ring of dancing Indians, and two of them fell dead. Two others were wounded by the same balls; and the savages, panic-struck at the suddenness

of the attack, and probably thinking that a large rescuing party was at hand, took to flight and disappeared.

The rescuers, however, were only the two Pattersons, who, finding that they had effected their own escape by their fleetness, concluded that they could not leave their captain and comrades in the hands of the Indians without some attempt to deliver them. With a daring characteristic of the scout, they made their way in the darkness to a shelter within a few feet of the tree selected for the sacrifice, reaching the place just as Putnam was dragged up. The boldness and desperation of their attack insured its success. A few strokes of the knife released the captive, and the three hastened with all speed from the scene of their peril. After proceeding a few miles through the forest, Putnam halted, and told his companions that he had been without sleep for thirty hours, and that, as a long and difficult flight lay before them to the nearest place of safety, he proposed to take just five minutes' rest.

"Only five minutes, mind!" he said, giving to the elder Patterson his silvercased watch. "We can spare that much time, and the sleep will do me wonderful good."

He lay down on the ground and instantly fell into a sound slumber, while his humble companions watched over him. So sound and refreshing was his sleep that they hesitated to wake him as he had enjoined; and full fifteen minutes had passed before they aroused him. He sprang up and looked at the timepiece; and discovering what time had passed, he flew into a rage, and reprimanded the men who had just saved his life in the severest terms, and not without a few round oaths, for venturing to disobey his orders. They received it, on their part, without anger, as they perfectly knew the man, and understood that he was a generous friend as well as a zealous disciplinarian. From this point the escape of the trio to the nearest settlement was prosecuted without further remarkable peril.

Rufus Patterson frequently told me that since the disbandment of the colo

nial forces at the close of the French War, his father and grandfather had never met Putnam. I inferred, indeed, from all that he said-and he naturally liked to talk of the subject—that after this adventure they were detailed upon such service that neither of them was brought particularly to the notice of the Captain again. They heard, in common with their neighbors, that Congress had made him a major-general, and they learned with eager interest, as the war went on, of the valiant service which their former Captain was giving his country in his high position; but being very poor as well as very humble, and, since the infirmities of the one and the lameness of the other, never travelling beyond their little garden, no opportunity had offered since the beginning of the war for a meeting with the General. My comrade, in telling me this, always concluded by declaring that before a great while he should seek out General Putnam and ask him if he remembered the Pattersons.

"Of course, I wouldn't ask nor take any reward," he would add; "but the General is a great man now, and I should be proud to tell him that I am the son of one of the men that saved him from torture and death by the Indians, and the grandson of the other."

His opportunity came in the Spring of 1779, I think; certainly, just before the British under Tryon invaded the State. It so happened that a brigade of Continentals was stationed within half a mile of the Pattersons' house; and a change in the divisions brought our regiment into that brigade, much to the delight of my comrade. The morning we reached this place, and before Rufus had obtained leave to visit his home, we received an order to be ready for muster and inspection at two o'clock, when General Putnam would review the brigade.

"Now is your time, Rufus,” I remarked, as we were burnishing our accoutrements. But Rufus was a shy, bashful fellow, although a good soldier; and I anticipated that he would never summon the courage to address the General on

me worse than I do him, he can come where I am."

The General plainly heard the reply. "The devil take your impudence!" he roared.

"And you too," sturdily returned the other.

"Do you know who I am?" the General asked, emphasizing the inquiry with an oath.

"No-and I don't care," responded old Patterson, with an expletive equally profane.

"Did you ever hear of Israel Putnam, you old rascal?" the General thundered, fast getting into a rage. The old man had been sitting where he could not see the other; but at the mention of the name he rose from his chair, and hobbled on his crutches out to the door. "Putnam-Captain Putnam-General Putnam!" he eagerly exclaimed. "Good Lord, is he the man I've been treating in this shabby way, at my own door?"

While he was coming slowly forward, trying to see the face of his visitor with his imperfect vision, Putnam recognized him; and dismounting with a jump, he threw his reins to one of the aids who just then rode up, and running into the house, caught the old soldier in his arms, crutches and all, and embraced him, while the old man wept tears of pride and pleasure. The younger Patterson soon came limping in, and he was the recipient of a like hearty recognition by the bluff General.

The next hour was passed by these three in pleasant, familiar intercourse, during which the rescue of Putnam from the savages was thoroughly discussed, the Pattersons readily forgetting, for the while, that their visitor had any other title or dignity than that of their old Captain. He spoke in terms of the warmest gratitude of the inestimable service they had done him, and of his repeated and fruitless efforts to find them since that memorable escape; and, as Rufus afterwards told me, they both felt, when he had gone, that his visit was worth ten years of good, wholesome enjoyment to them.

General," said old Patterson, rather grumblingly, "what a savage scolding you gave me for letting you sleep ten minutes too long while we were escaping?"

Putnam roared with laughter. "Did I do that?" he asked. "Well, that was pretty hard; but you know my ways, of course. Obey orders, first, last, and always; that is my motto, you know. But did you feel as though you would be likely to let the redskins do their worst with me the next time?"

"No, sir," replied the old soldier; "I never thought any such thing. I wasn't angry a bit. I never had a commander like Captain Putnam; I liked his anger better than other men's praise."

General Putnam probably made due allowance for the old man's extravagance of speech, and gave him credit for all he felt.

"You are poor, I should judge," he said, looking at the scanty furniture and bare floors.

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"Yes, General,” replied the son, we have pretty hard work to live. It was hard before the war, when my boy was at home to help; but he's in the army, of course, fighting for the country, as his father and grandfather did before him, and as I would be doing now, but for this rheumatiz."

"I am far from rich myself," remarked Putnam; "but I've enough for myself and my family, and something to spare; and nobody has so good a claim on the surplus as you two. Get me a piece of paper." A scrap torn from the fly-leaf of a book was brought to him, on which he wrote some words. "I will renew it every year while you and I live," he said, as he handed it to the son.

One of the aids of the brigadier-general now came to report that the troops were in line, ready for review; and with a hearty shake of the hand and a "God bless you!" General Putnam returned to the camp.

The paper that he left was an order on the commissary of the brigade for a barrel of flour, a barrel of meal, a barrel each of pork, beef, and sugar, at the