panions lay dead in the gangway-Spears, Floyd, Fossett, and Boyce were wounded-Crepps, Crist, and Moore remained unhurt. It was evident that Spears' wound was mortal and that he could survive but a few moments. He urged the survivors to run the boat to the opposite side of the river and save themselves by immediate flight, and leave him to his fate. Crepps and Crist positively refused.

But the boat was gradually nearing the southern shore of the river. At this time the Indians, to the number of forty or fifty, were seen crossing the river above at a few hundred yards' distance, some on logs, and some swimming and carrying their rifles over their heads. The escape of the boat was now hopeless, as there was a large body of Indians on each side of the river. If the boat had been carried immediately to the opposite side of the river as soon as her cable was loosened, the survivors might have escaped; but to such minds and hearts the idea of leaving their dying friends to the mercy of the Indian tomahawk was insupportable. The boat at length touched the southern shore-a hasty preparation was made to bury the dead in the woods-Floyd, Fossett, and Boyce got to land and sought concealment in the thickets. Crepps and Crist turned to their suffering friend, Spears, but death had kindly stepped in and cut short the savage triumph. The woman now remained. They offered to assist her to shore that she might take her chance of escape in the woods, but the danger of her position and the scenes of blood and death around her had overpowered her senses, and no entreaty or remonstrance could prevail with her to move. She sat with her face buried in her hands, and no effort could make her sensible that there was any hope of escape.

The Indians had gained the south side of the river, and were yelling like bloodhounds as they ran down toward the boat, which they now looked upon as their certain prey. Crepps and Crist seized a rifle apiece and ascended the river bank; at the top of the hill they met the savages, and charged them with a shout. Crepps fired upon them, but Crist, in his haste, had taken up Fossett's gun, which had got wet as he swam with it to the boat on the opposite side-it missed fire. At this time Moore passed them and escaped. The Indians, when charged by Crepps and Crist, fell back into a ravine that put into the river immediately above them. Crist and Crepps again commenced their flight. The Indians rallied and rose from the ravine, and fired a volley at them as they fled. Crepp received a ball in his left side; a bullet struck Crist's heel and completely crushed the bones of his foot. They parted, and met no more. The Indians, intent on plunder, did not pursue them, but rushed into the boat. Crist heard one long, agonizing shriek from the unfortunate woman and the wild shouts of the savages, as they possessed themselves of the spoils of a costly but barren victory.

Crepps, in the course of the next day, arrived in the neighborhood of Long Lick, and being unable to travel farther laid down

in the woods to die. Moore alone escaped unhurt and brought in the tidings of the defeat of the boat. The country was at once roused. Crepps was found and brought in, but died about the time he reached home. Crist describes Crepps as a tall, fairhaired, handsome man; kind, brave, and enterprising, and possessed of all those high and striking qualities that gave the heroic stamp to that hardy race of pioneers among whom he had lived and died. He had been the lion of the fight. By exposing himself to the most imminent peril he inspirited his companions with his own contempt of danger. He and Crist had stood over Fossett, and kept the Indians treed while he disengaged the cable; and his coolness, during the long and bloody struggle of the day, had won the admiration of Crist himself-than whom a more dauntless man had never contended with mortal foe. Crepps left a young wife and one son, then an infant. His wife was enceinte at the time of his death-the posthumous child was a daughter, and is the wife of the Hon. Charles A. Wickliffe, of Kentucky. The son died shortly after he arrived at man's estate.

Crist was so disabled by the wound that he could not walk. The bones of his heel were crushed. He crept into a thicket and laid down-his wound bled profusely. He could not remain there long. His feet were now of no use to him. He bound his moccasins on his knees, and commenced his journey. Piece by piece his hat, hunting-shirt, and vest were consumed to shield his hands against the rugged rocks which lay in his way. He crawled on all day up the river, and at night crossed over to the north side upon a log that he rolled down the bank. He concealed himself in a thicket and tried to sleep-but pain and exhaustion and loss of blood had driven sleep from his eyes. His foot and leg were much swollen and inflamed. Guided by the stars, he crept on again-between midnight and day, he came in sight of a camp fire, and heard the barking of a dog. A number of Indians rose up around the fire, and he crept slowly away from the light. He laid down and remained quiet for some time. When all was still again, he resumed his slow and painful journey. He crawled into a small branch, and kept on down it for some distance upon the rocks, that he might leave no trace behind him. At daylight, he ascended an eminence of considerable height to ascertain, if possible, where he was, and how to shape his future course; but all around was wilderness. He was aiming to reach Bullitt's Lick, now about eight miles distant, and his progress was not half a mile an hour. He toiled on all day-night came on-the second night of his painful journey. Since leaving the small branch the night before, he had found no water-since the day before the battle, he had not tasted food. Worn down with hunger, want of sleep, acute pain, and raging thirst, he laid himself down to die. But his sufferings were not to end here-guided again by the stars, he struggled on. Every rag that he could interpose between the rugged stones and his bleeding hands and knee (for he could now

use but one), was worn away. The morning came-the morning of the third day; it brought him but little hope; but the indomitable spirit within him disdained to yield, and during the day he made what progress he could. As the evening drew on, he became aware that he was in the vicinity of Bullitt's Lick; but he could go no further; nature had made her last effort, and he laid himself down and prayed that death would speedily end his sufferings.

When darkness came on, from where lay, he could see the hundred fires of the furnaces at the licks all glowing; and he even fancied he could see the dusky forms of the firemen as they passed to and fro around the pits, but they were more than half a mile off, and how was he to reach them? He had not eaten a morsel in four days; he had been drained of almost his last drop of blood, the wounded leg had become so stiff and swollen that for the last two days and nights he had dragged it after him; the flesh was worn from his knee and from the palms of his hands. Relief was in his sight, but to reach it was impossible. Suddenly he heard the tramp of a horse's feet approaching him, and hope sprang up once more in his breast. The sound came nearer and still more near. A path ran near the place where he lay; a man on horseback approached within a few rods of him, he mustered his remaining strength and hailed him; but to his utter surprise and dismay, the horseman turned suddenly and galloped off toward the licks. Despair now seized him. To die alone of hunger and thirst, in sight of hundreds and of plenty, seemed to him the last dregs of the bitterest cup that fate could offer to mortal lips. O! that he could have fallen by the side of his friend in the proud battle! That he could have met the Indian tomahawk, and died in the strength of his manhood; and not have been doomed to linger out his life in days and nights of pain and agony, and to die by piecemeal in childish despair. While these thoughts were passing in his mind, the horseman (a negro) regained the licks and alarmed the people there with the intelligence that the Indians were approaching. On being interrogated, all the account he could give was, that some person had called to him in the woods, a half mile off, and called him by the wrong name. It was manifest it was not Indians; and forthwith a number of men set out, guided by the negro, to the place. Crist's hopes again revived, when he heard voices, and saw lights approaching. They came near and hailed. Crist knew the voice, and called to the man by name. This removed all doubt, and they approached the spot where he lay. A sad and mournful sight was before them. A man that had left them but a few days before, in the bloom of youth, health and buoyant spirits, now lay stretched upon the earth, a worn and mangled skeleton, unable to lift a hand to bid them welcome. They bore him home; the ball was extracted; but his recovery was slow and doubtful. It was a year before he was a man again. The woman in the boat was carried a prisoner to Canada. Ten

years afterward, Crist met her again in Kentucky. She had been redeemed by an Indian trader, and brought into Wayne's camp on the Maumee, and restored to her friends. She informed Crist that the body of Indians which made the attack on the boat, numbered over one hundred and twenty, of whom about thirty were killed in the engagement. The account was confirmed by Indians whom Crist met with afterward, and who had been in the battle. They told Crist that the boat's crew fought more like devils than men, and if they had taken one of them prisoner, they would have roasted him alive. Crist was afterward a member of the Kentucky Legislature, and in 1808, was a member of Congress. He died at his residence in Bullitt county, in August, 1844, aged eighty years.

REBELLION IN TENNESSEE.

THE Country now constituting the State of Tennessee, was originally comprised within the territory of the State of North Carolina. The settlers who poured in just after the close of the Revolutionary war, found it of great inconvenience to remain under the jurisdiction of North Carolina. At that time hostilities had been commenced against them by the Creeks and Cherokees; and being unprotected by the troops of North Carolina, and without any government of their own, their situation was perilous. A large proportion of her people determined to form an independent State government, which would enable them to legally assemble a military force for defense.

In 1786, a convention met at Jonesborough, consisting of five members from each county, who declared the district independent of North Carolina, and formed it into a State, under the name of "Frankland." They appointed Col. John Sevier, Governor, elected judges and other State officers, and sent a delegate to Congress, but he was refused admittance; that body being indisposed to countenance this rebellion against North Carolina: that State was determined to maintain her jurisdiction. In 1786, Frankland had two conflicting courts in its jurisdiction; one under the authority of North Carolina, the other under that of the new State, each of which decided that they alone had legal authority. It was a fruitful source of collision and quarrel. The sheriff of Frankland, with his posse, in some instances, went into the other court, seized the papers and turned the officers out of doors. In turn, the party of North Carolina retaliated in the same way. Soon after his inauguration, Gov. Sevier came in collision with Col. Tipton, the most prominent man among the stanch adherents of the old State. From the argument of words, they proceeded to that of the fists, but were separated in the midst of the combat. This example was often imitated among the people, and it was

evident, that in such a crisis things must come to a more serious issue.

The party of North Carolina sent Colonel Tipton their representative to the legislature; taxes were imposed by the authority of both legislatures; the people paid neither, speciously declaring they did not know to which authority they ought to yield their money. Another convention of Frankland met, and elected William Cocke, Esq., to Congress. That body courteously allowed him to address them. He eloquently portrayed, in a speech before them, the helpless and miserable condition of Frankland; on the one hand engaged in a civil war with the parent State, and on the other assailed by the merciless savages. He was heard; Congress interposed to promote harmony, and a general amnesty was passed in regard to all who were willing to yield to the authority of North Carolina. The pacific and decided measures of Congress seemed at once to restore things to their former condition before the formation of the State of Frankland. Under the external appearance of tranquillity remained the smothered fire; a considerable number remained stanch to the cause of the fallen State, and disposed, under the first favorable circumstances, to rear it up again. Governor Sevier still retained his integrity in his faith in the new State.

In 1788, an execution was taken out by the existing government, organized by North Carolina, against the property of Governor Sevier, as he still continued to be called. His negroes had been taken by this execution, during his absence, while contending with the hostile Indians. Considering this illegal, he on his return collected one hundred and fifty men, and proceeded to attack the house of Colonel Tipton, where he was informed his negroes were placed for safe keeping. He also was told that he was sought by Tipton's men to be put in prison. Colonel Sevier was highly exasperated, and he proceeded to the attack of Tipton's house, which stood nine miles from Jonesborough. The dwelling was barricaded and defended by stanch friends of Tipton. Sevier summoned the garrison to surrender; the only reply was for the assailants to disband themselves before the regular troops of the government came to the aid of the besieged. Hostilities were commenced, and one man killed, and a number of men wounded. The morning of the attack was snowy, and the assailing force had hardly commenced an attack upon the house, when news came of the approach of Colonel Maxwell, with one hundred and eighty men, in aid of the besieged. Upon this they fled. Two were taken prisoners. Colonel Tipton determined to hang them upon the spot; he was hardly swayed from his purpose by strong persuasion. This defeat put an end to the pretensions of the partisans of Frankland. Sevier concealed his mortification by removing to the remoter frontier, when, with a number of devoted friends, he gave his services to making war upon the Indians. The Indians made an attack upon the settlements around Knoxville; he drove