This unfortunate chief is better known
to the world by the eloquent and pathetic
speech, which he has left as a
record of his misfortunes and sorrows, than by
his exploits in war. His father, Shikellimus,
was a Cayuga chief, whose house was on the borders
of Cayuga Lake, in New York. He was a personal
friend of the benevolent James Logan, the intimate
friend of William Penn and the founder of
the Logonian Library, at Philadelphia. The name of the
second son was probably derived from this person.
Logan inherited his gifts and noble nature from his
father, who was ever a lover of peace, and also known
as the white man's friend. His wigwam was famed far
and near as the abode of hospitality, friendship,
and kindness. It was a wigwam, but there was something
of the halo about it which invested a feudal castle in
the days of English chivalry and romance.
Shikellimus was a good provider, and those who gathered
around his comfortable fire, which was lighted for every
stranger by the forest chieftain, felt the independence
of the lone traveler in some old baronial hall; and he
who presided at the feast to which all were welcome, was
not less noble or less dignified than an English lord.
Had there been a pen to record his hospitality and table
talk, there would probably have been seen in it
more wisdom than entered into the discourse of
many a prince or potentate. But, alas, for
forest eloquence, it was wafted only by
the breeze, and its echo died away forever.
So much for the environment
of the home of his childhood.
Another thing which no doubt
influenced his character was
the fact that in boyhood he came under
the influence of the sweet-spirited
Moravian missionaries, with their gentle
manners and soothing words. There was
about him a similar quiet and softened
dignity, a refinement of sentiment and
delicacy of feeling, which characterizes
none but the lofty, and exhales from none but the pure.
Logan moved in early life to the banks
of the Juniata, which is a beautiful
little river, flowing through a wild,
romantic country, watered also by the
Susquehanna. In a pleasant valley he
built his cabin, and married a Shawnee
wife. Thus he became identified with the
Shawnees and Delawares, though belonging
to the Six Nations. Logan inherited his
father's talents of oratory and bid fair
to be equally prosperous. He took no part
in the French and Indian war of 1760, nor
that of Pontiac which followed, except to
assume the role of peacemaker.
His house, like his father's, was the Indian's
and the white man's home, the dwelling-place
of love. Alas! that the milk of human kindness
in his bosom should ever have been turned to
gall by cruel and inhuman wrongs. In his
childhood a little cousin had been taken
captive by white men, under aggravating
circumstances, but for this he did not become
the foe of the white race.
"Forgive and forget," seems to have been
his motto at this time; and he lived to
be an aged man, before vengeance
took possession of his soul.
In all the country where he dwelt
he was known, and to every cottage
Logan was welcome; terror did not
creep into the heart of woman nor
fear disturb the little child, when
his footsteps were heard at their doors.
And this, as was afterwards proved,
was not because he had not all the
traits which make a brave warrior,
but from a settled principle that
all men were brothers and should love one another.
Minnie Myrtle, in her interesting book,
"The Iroquois," says of Logan: "He set forth
at one time on a hunting expedition,
and was alone in the forest. Two white
hunters were engaged in the same sport,
and having killed a bear in a wild gorge,
were about to rest beside a babbling spring,
when they saw an Indian form reflected
in the water. They sprang to their feet
and grasped their rifles, but the Indian
bent forward and struck the rifles from
their hands, and spilt the powder from
their flasks. Then stretching forth his
open palm in token of friendship, he
seated himself beside them and won
his way to their hearts. For a week
they roamed together, hunting and
fishing by day and sleeping by the
same fire at night. It was Logan,
and henceforth their brother. At the
end of their hunt, he pursued his way
over the Alleghenies, to his lodge,
and they returned to their homes,
never again to point a gun at an Indian's heart.
"Some white men on a journey stopped at
his cabin to rest. For amusement a
shooting match was proposed, at which
the wager was to be a dollar a shot.
During the sport Logan lost five shots,
and when they had finished he entered
his lodge and brought out five deer skins
in payment of his losses, as a dollar
a skin was the established price in those
days and the red man's money. But his
guests refused to take them, saying
they had only been shooting for sport
and wished no forfeit. But the
honorable Indian would take no
denial, replying, 'If you had lost
the shots I should have taken your
dollars, but as I have lost, take my skins.'
"Another time he wished to buy grain,
and took his skins to a tailor,
who adulterated the wheat, thinking
the Indian would not know. But the
miller informed him, and advised him
to apply to a magistrate for redress.
He went to a Mr. Brown, who kindly saw
that his loss was made up, for Logan
came often to his house, and he knew
his noble heart and grieved to see
him wronged. As he was waiting the
decision of the magistrate, he played
with a little girl, who was just
trying to walk, and the mother remarked
that she needed some shoes, which
she was not able to purchase for her.
"The child was very fond of Logan
and loved to sit upon his knee,
and when he went away was ready