Indians Captured Frances Slocum, the “Lost Sister of Wyoming,” November 2, 1778

Among the many dramatic incidents in the history of the Wyoming Valley few, if any, are more thrilling or unusual than the carrying away into captivity of little Frances Slocum.

Jonathan Slocum, a Quaker, settled at Wyoming in 1762 and, with others who survived the awful Indian massacre of October 15, 1763, left the valley.

In the autumn of 1777 he brought his wife, six sons and three daughters from Rhode Island and again made his home at Wyoming.

On Monday, November 2, 1778, Jonathan Slocum and his sons, William and Benjamin, were at work completing their corn harvest. At the Slocum home were the other members of the family, together with Mrs. Nathan Kingsley and her two sons. About noonday the Kingsley lads were sharpening a knife on a grindstone in the front yard. Suddenly the crack of a rifle was heard, and Mrs. Slocum hastened to the front door, when she was horrified to see the lifeless body of the elder Kingsley boy lying on the ground. The Indian who killed him was preparing to scalp his victim with the very knife the boys were sharpening.

766The terrified mother snatched her infant from the cradle, called to the others to run for their lives, and fled out of the rear door to a log fence beyond which lay a swamp, and there hid herself and her baby.

Meanwhile the younger Kingsley boy and Frances Slocum, then five-and-a-half years old, hid themselves under a staircase; Judith Slocum, with her three-year-old brother Isaac, fled toward the swamp, while little Mary Slocum, less than ten years old, started on a run in the direction of Fort Wyoming, carrying in her arms her baby brother, aged one-and-a-half years. Ebenezer Slocum, then thirteen years old, was a cripple and unable to get away with the others.

While the Slocums were fleeing from their home the Indian in their door-yard was joined by two others, who made their way into the house and quickly ransacked it. Frances Slocum and young Kingsley were discovered in their hiding place, and dragged forth, while Ebenezer Slocum was seized in another part of the house.

Mrs. Slocum, leaving her baby behind, rushed into the presence of the Indians and implored the savages to release the children. She pointed to the crippled feet of Ebenezer and exclaimed: “The child is lame; he can do thee no good.”

The Indian who had him in his grasp released him to his mother. She pleaded piteously for her daughter, but in vain.

The chief Indian of the three threw Frances athwart his shoulder, one of the other Indians did likewise with young Kingsley, while the third one of the party shouldered the big bundle of plunder which had been taken from the house. They then dashed into the woods, and that was the last Mrs. Slocum ever saw of her daughter, Frances.

Years later it was learned from Frances Slocum herself that she and young Kingsley were carried to a cave where they stayed all night. Early the following morning they set out and traveled for many days. When they arrived at the village to which the Indians belonged, young Kingsley was taken away and Frances never learned what became of him.

The chief took Frances to an aged couple of the Delaware nation, who adopted her. She was given the name of Weletawash, which was the name of their youngest child, whom they had lately buried.

They were living in Ontario when the Revolution ended. They then moved to Kekionga, the present site of the city of Fort Wayne, Ind.

Frances states she was there long after she was full grown, and that she could relate incidents of Harmar’s defeat, October, 1790. In 1790 Frances married a Delaware brave named “Little Turtle.”

During four years of war in what is Ohio and Indiana, Frances and her husband and her foster-parents were almost constantly on the move. Her foster-father could speak English and so could Frances, until he 767died, when she lost her mother-tongue. In 1794, “Little Turtle” left her and went west.

Sometime in 1795 while on the move with her foster-parents, Frances discovered an Indian lying in the path suffering from wounds received in battle with the whites. She dressed his wounds and nursed him back to health. He supplied them with game.

When about to leave he was promised the adopted daughter in marriage and Frances became the wife of Shepoconah, a chief of the Miami tribe. Soon thereafter her foster-parents died and Frances and her husband removed to Fort Wayne.

In 1801 they, with their two sons and a daughter, removed to the Osage Village, on the Mississineva River, about one mile from its confluence with the Wabash. Here Shepoconah was made war chief, and Frances was admitted into the Miami tribe and given the name Maconaquah, signifying “A Young Bear.” Shepoconah died in 1832.

After the capture of Frances her father was killed, but many efforts were made to obtain clues as to the whereabouts of Frances. After peace was declared her brothers made a journey to Fort Niagara, where they offered a reward of 100 guineas for the recovery of their sister. These brothers never gave up the search. They visited many Indian villages and traveled thousands of miles, even enlisting the Government and large parties of Indians in their search. They attended every gathering of Indians where white children captives were to be given up. They believed she still lived, and until 1797 every possible search was made, but the Slocums could get no trace of their captive sister during the life of their mother.

In January, 1835, Colonel George W. Ewing, an Indian trader, was quartered in the home of Maconaquah and she related the story of her life to him. The next day he marveled at its mystery and wrote a narrative of this woman, and addressed it to the postmaster at Lancaster, Pa. No one was interested. Two years later John W. Forney became the publisher of the Intelligencer and ran across this letter and published it, July, 1837.

Immediately it was read by those who knew the story of the “Lost Sister of Wyoming.” Correspondence was started, and Joseph Slocum and two nephews traveled to the home of Maconaquah, where she was positively identified and acknowledged him as her brother, but expressed no inclination to leave her wigwam to partake of the comforts of his comfortable mansion in Wilkes-Barre.

She said in reply to their pleadings: “No, I cannot. I have always lived with the Indians: they have always used me very kindly; I am used to them. The Great Spirit has always allowed me to live with them, and I wish to live and die with them.”

768She had indeed become an Indian even in looks. She thought, felt and reasoned like an Indian.

The Slocums had this comfort, their “Lost Sister of Wyoming” was not degraded in her habits or character; her Anglo-Saxon blood had not been tainted by savage touch, but bore itself gloriously amid long series of trials through which it had passed.

Correspondence was kept up between the relatives until the death of Frances, which occurred March 9, 1847.