David EATON ³⁸³

  General Notes:

Addtional information from Maria Eaton Ruley Grigorieff.

The number of children has been questioned. Kezia Ann Root's poem, written in the voice of her mother, Mary Parnel Eaton, began with the words, "My father's family numbered eight." (The only way it adds up is if the father was not counted in the number eight.) "Three of them went to mill" (that would be sons Isaac, Joseph, and George). Later the poem continues, "We were taken from our father's house, five of us all in number." (Mother Mary Parnel, children Mary Parnel Eaton, Martha Eaton, Thomas, and the infant son). Two were killed almost immediately. ..."of wicked monsters shaped like men, whose hands were stained with blood, of one brother and my mother dear, oh help me then Great God, when they the bleeding scalps brought near..." The poem described how one sister (Martha) was too small to earn her clothes and the English refused to buy her so she was thrown in a pond, rescued, and hidden by a Dutchman's wife. The brother (Thomas) "lived with one poor stingy soul, who thought he too much eat, she gave him white oak bark to drink, which did his death complete." And the fifth person was the "author."

did supply a list of David Eaton and Mary Parnel's children with their dates of birth--most of which you already have:
Isaac Eaton, born 8 Fanuary 1764 (a Sunday),
Joseph Eaton born 3 November 1765 (a Sunday),
George Eaton born 17 April 1768,
Mary Parnel Eaton born 10 February 1770, and
Martha Eaton, born 5 July 1774.
Martha said there were two more children, whose dates of birth were "not on this record." She described these two children as follows. "The date of birth of the son Thomas is not on this record. He was taken by the Indians, when about six years of age--sold in Montreal to the English--starved and ill treated by them until he died. There was also an infant son, a few months old, murdered by the Indians with his mother in 1778."


Pioneer Settlers The accounts of the early settlers of Brady are obscure and conflicting. A number of pioneers lived within its borders prior to the Revolution, of whom little can be said. The Pridmore, Vandevender, Eaton, Loudenslager, and several other families were among the inhabitants of that period. The former removed before 1800. The memory of the Eaton family and young Loudenslager is perpetuated in connection with Indian troubles in 1778. It is stated by the historian of the Juniata Valley that these parties lived near the head of the Kishacoquillas Valley, and that in the year mentioned they became victims of savage atrocity. It seems that young Loudenslager had determined to go to Standing Stone, to join the men then being enlisted by Captain Clugage for the protection of the leadmines. With this purpose he mounted his horse and rode unsuspecting through the gap towards the river, when he was fired upon by a small party of Indians and a white man and very severely wounded. Yet he managed to cling to his seat in the saddle, and reached Huntingdon in a fainting condition. After receiving such treatment as the place afforded it was determined to send him to Middletown, where proper attention might be given him. He was accordingly placed in a canoe to be conveyed down the river, but did not proceed far before life became extinct. The same day Loudenslager was assassinated the Indians visited the cabin of the Eaton family, and finding the husband away, took captive his wife and two children, plundered the house, and set it on fire. Before it was entirely destroyed Mr. Eaton reached his home, and saw enough to lead him to believe that it was the work of savages. Quickly mounting his horse he sped to Standing Stone to alarm the garrison, and there learned from the lips of the wounded man that his suspicions were only too true. A scouting party set in pursuit of the savages, but failed to find their trail, and although the search continued for several days no trace of the Indians could be found. Mr. Eaton became a heart-broken man, and persisted in the search of his loved ones, being satisfied that they had been murdered only when their blanched bones were found years afterward by some hunters in the mountains of Warrior's Mark township. The Eaton house was on the hillside by the spring below the present Eagle Mills.

Lived here in 1775

Also page 635 Eaton Family. Tells the same story only there are survivors including daughter Mary

PERILS OF THE WILDERNESS A TALE OF THE REVOLUTION As told by Mary Eaton, "the little girl," when she became " old aunty." It had become a tradition among the Eaton family that a grandmother and several of her children had been carried away by the Indians and herself and baby and one son killed. One of the children is still living at an advanced age. When, about 1846, the late Rev. Joseph H. Eaton, youngest brother of the late James Eaton of Delaware, O., and of Rev. George W. Eaton, president of Madison University, resolved to visit her and get the story from her own lips. She was their father's youngest sister Mary, and this is the way she told the story. In the year 1778, June 10, a party of Indians, five in number, came into Cumberland County, Pa., as it was called at that day, now Huntin gton, and lay by the side of an old log near the home of Mr. David Eaton. In the morning very early, Mr. Eaton started for a mill about thirteen miles distant, intending the next day to remove his family to a block house at some distance. Two of his boys went the same morning to a neighbor's to help him shell some corn to take to mill. After they had shelled the corn the three (the two young boys and the neighbor) started off to mill. The Indians seeing the man and the boys start off, three of them ran around to waylay them. About a mile or two from the house the road forked, a new road having been cut, but very little travelled. When they came thus far they halted, to consult as to which of the roads they should take. After some conversation, they concluded to take the new road; and well it was that they did; for about two hundred yards in advance on the old road the three Indians lay in a hollow. The man and the boys had just arrived at the mill when another man came riding at the top of his horse's speed. He had taken the old road and the Indians had jumped from their concealment and fired on him. At the first fire, his horse sprang and no doubt saved his life. One of the balls entered his thigh and broke it. He, however, clung to the horse until he arrived at the mill. The three Indians then returned to their comrades and they proceeded to the house. Mrs Eaton and four children were there, the eldest about eleven years old, and the next seven, another four, and a baby eleven months old. The first notice they had of the Indians, they were standing in the door flourishing their tomahawks in order to keep any one from going out. Mrs Eaton fainted and one of the children ran under the bed. The Indians, after rummaging the house and taking what they could carry conveniently, started, taking Mrs. Eaton and three children. Before they left, however, they set fire to the house. They had not been gone long before the little girl who had remained under the bed thought she would run out and hide in the woods. As she passed around a corner of the house, one of the Indians saw her and returned and took her. She did not recollect anything from the time she saw the Indian reach out his hand and seize her until she caught up with the rest. After they had travelled some distance they stopped and the Indians put moccasins on all the children. They urged them on at a rapid pace for twelve miles over the mountains. Mrs Eaton here became so fatigued that she could not proceed any farther. She was a very large and fleshy woman, and the Indians compelled her to carry her child, which was large and fat. She attempted to give it to her son to carry but the Indians raised their tomahawks and threatened to bury them in their heads if he took it. The little girl also attempted to take it but the Indians would not suffer her to do so. Mrs. Eaton finally sank down beside a log, wearied out, and told them that she could not proceed any further. Two of them stopped with her, and the others went on, taking the children. In about an hour the two came up having the scalps of Mrs. Eaton and her child. They would take the scalps in their mouths and shake them in the faces of the children and tell them that if they made any noise they would serve them the same way. One of the Indians carried the youngest little girl on his back. They pushed on rapidly until night when they stopped and bound the children. In the morning they proceeded rapidly, but when they supposed they were out of danger they stopped and began hunting. They killed a buffalo. They had brought with them some provisions which they had taken from the house. The Indian who was left to watch them amused himself by taking one of the dresses of the little girl and throwing it around his shoulders and putting a cap on his head, dancing around her and making all kinds of grimaces. They dried part of the buffalo which they had killed. They put up small forked sticks, laid others across them and then cutting the flesh in large thin pieces laid them across the sticks and thus dried them. This was their food for three days and the children received but little of it. On the third day they found some leeks and filled their stomachs with them. They travelled on until they became very hungry and the Indians again halted to hunt. The little girl, seeing a dead carcass which looked like that of a cow (probably a buffalo) lying in a swamp, ran to it and rubbed off some of the skin which she could do very easily, and pulled off a double handful of flesh, took it to the fire and roasted it and ate it and she said it was certainly the sweetest meat that she ever ate. The Indians did the same. They killed some game there and then travelled on. They crossed a river. The Indians made the little boy and girl go across first. The boy took his little sister by the hand to keep her from falling. The water was nearly to their chins. The Indians had caught several large crabs and they would hold them to the little girl's nose to see her distress and pain. They travelled over mountains to ascend which they had to pull themselves up by shrubs and twigs. After a tedious march they at length reached the Indian village; but before they entered, the Indians raised the whoop that the people of the village might prepare to meet them. The whole village turned out, men, women, and children, as is their custom on such occasions, and arranged themselves in two long rows, and the children were told that they must run the gauntlet; the boys were to whip the boy and the girls the girl. One who could talk English told them that if they would run to the Council House, which he pointed out to them, they would be safe as soon as they entered it. The word was given and they started. The little girl was nearly beaten to death. She was so beaten in the face that she was blind for three days. The boy used a little stratagem and escaped. In the bustle of the starting, as they all rushed up in a crowd, he slipped to one side and threw himself behind a brush heap and lay close to the ground ; and when he saw the way open and all scattered about, he leaped up, ran with all his might and got to the council house, receiving but one lick just as he was entering. The Indians danced all that night. An old squaw took pity on the little girl, gathered some herbs, boiled them and washed her bruises until they were healed. Here the children were separated. One took the boy and another the girls. They went on towards Canada, to which they had been ordered to bring all prisoners. At the next town the girl (the oldest one) saw her brother gathering berries. She jumped up with joy and ran to embrace him. He gave her some berries; but a great swarthy Indian came running up and snatched her away, and would not suffer them to speak to each other. They never saw each other again until they reached Canada. The little girl remained in that village a long time, but she could not get half enough to eat. Some times she would set her ingenuity to work to get some food. She would ask the privilege of going out some distance to bring wood. When liberty was granted she would slip out and drive a cow away from the wigwams behind some bushes, and there milk into her mouth until she was satisfied. One day an old squaw saw her and told the man to whom she belonged. He tied her up and gave her a severe whipping. But this did not deter her from doing the same thing again when she got an opportunity and though she received many whippings, she preferred them to the hunger. Sometimes she would take one of the troughs in which the Indians caught sugar water, made from the bark of a tree and holding about two quarts, she would milk this full and hide it away beside an old log, cover it up and when she could find an opportunity slip out and take a drink. She was obliged to wait upon an old hag, the mother of the man to whom she belonged, who treated her very badly. At length they left this village and reached Niagara. On the way the Indians procured some whisky and determined to have a frolic. They told the squaws to take the prisoners away lest when they became excited they should kill them. The squaws took them around a hill and built up a little fire. One of the Indians discovered it and came up and struck at the little girl with his knife; but a squaw caught his arm and thus saved her life. He, however, cut a gash in her hand which is visible to this day. The squaws pacified him so that he made no further attempt to kill the prisoners. They soon arrived in Canada, where they were again compelled to run the gauntlet. The council house here was in a hollow and a hill sloped clown to it. The Indians arranged themselves on this, and the prisoners were told the same thing as at the other place. The little girl fearing the same treatment as before, ran with all her might and escaped unhurt. Here there was a council of British officers, and they purchased the little girl, paying eight dollars for her. As soon as they had struck the bargain, the Indians pushed her away to the officers, to signify that they had nothing more to do with her. Her sister had been bought a few days before and when the British officers saw her they scolded the Indians for bringing so small a prisoner. They said it was a bill of expense to them, and that they would not give so much for her as they would for her scalp. The Indian told them that he could not find it in his heart to kill her; he had carried her all the way on his back. However, he took her out to a pond not far distant and threw her in and walked away. A Dutch woman living near, on her way to a spring, heard a splash and went to see what it was; and seeing the child, got her out with a long pole and took her home and concealed her. The Indian soon returned with the intention of getting her scalp. Not finding her, he began to search for her in all the houses near by, no one daring to forbid him. The Dutch woman took her and put her in a closet and covered her with old rags. The Indian looked into the closet and took up every rag except the last one which covered her, and finally gave up the search. The brother was taken by a merchant in Detroit. The merchant went away to purchase goods. His wife said that the boy was too great an eater and would break them up. She said that he could eat a slice of bread, all around the loaf, and drink a pint of tea. So to draw up his entrails, she boiled oak bark and made him drink a quart. This so drew up his entrails that it threw him into a fever and he soon died. The merchant was very sorry for he thought a great deal of the boy. I was sent for to take care of him. After I had been with him four years the man with whom I lived removed to Montreal, and after peace was declared, my father, hearing that we were still living, came and took us home. My sister was in Niagara. The way my father came to know that we were still living was this. One day as I was passing along, I heard some one call my name. I turned around and saw a woman standing in a door of a house. She beckoned to me to come to her, and asked if I was not the daughter of David Eaton. I said that I was and she asked if any of my sisters and brothers were living. I told her that my sister was living but that my brothers were dead. When peace was declared, they gathered all the prisoners together for the purpose of sending them home. I told them that I did not wish to return. I knew that my mother was dead, and I did not know that my father was living. So I remained. This woman, who was acquainted with me, returned to Pennsylvania soon after, saw my father and told him about me and my brother. As soon as he could he came for us. I did not know him. Before I was taken his hair was black, but now it was very gray. Such was the story of the "old aunty". It will be seen that the family of Mr. Eaton consisted of wife and seven children. Three boys, probably the older, happened to be away from the house; one with the father and two with a neighbor. Among these was Joseph, who afterwards removed to Ohio and became the father of Isaac, James, George, and Joseph. Isaac became a Freewill Baptist minister and afterwards died in Mississippi or Kansas. James became an engineer and land surveyor and lived and died in or near Delaware, O., near the old homestead at Berlin. George became a student, first at Gambier, then at Athens, then went to Virginia to teach; then went to Union College, Schenectady, N. Y.. where he graduated in 1829. Afterwards he became a professor in Georgetown College, Ky., and in 1838 was called to Hamilton, N. Y. to become professor in the now Colgate University of which he subsequently became the president. Joseph was a student at Colgate and graduated there in 1837; then he went to Tennessee as a teacher and founded what became Union University at Murfrees- boro, of which he was president at the time of his death in 1859. He was the father of the Rev. T. T. Eaton of Louisville, Ky. One of the daughters of George is "L. E. L." wife of the editor of the Journal and Messenger.

Another record for a David Eaton born 20 Feb 1737in PA, parents George Eaton and Parnel Taylor . I thought this was interesting because of the Parnel reference.

David married Mary Parnel EATON, daughter of George EATON and Parnel TAYLOR, on 25 Sep 1760 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.²⁰³ (Mary Parnel EATON was born on 24 Jun 1737 and died in 1778.)