ness led them that way.[1] His name and fame were so high on record, that Count Zinzendorf, when in this country in 1742, became desirous of seeing him, and actually visited him at his house in Shamokin.[2] About the year 1772 Logan was introduced to me, by an Indian friend, as son to the late reputable chief Shikellemus, and as a friend to the white people. In the course of conversation I thought him a man of superior talents than Indians generally were. The subject turning on vice and immorality, he confessed his too great share of this, especially his fondness for liquor. He exclaimed against the white people for imposing liquors upon the Indians; he otherwise admired their ingenuity; spoke of gentlemen, but observed the Indians unfortunately had but few of these as their neighbors, &c. He spoke of his friendship to the white people, wished always to be a neighbor to them, intended to settle on the Ohio, below Big Beaver; was (to the best of my recollection) then encamped at the mouth of this river, (Beaver;) urged me to pay him a visit, &c. [Note.—I was then living at the Moravian town on this river, in the neighborhood of Cuskuskee. In April 1773, while on my passage down the Ohio for Muskinghum, I called at Logan's settlement, where I received every civility I could expect from such of the family as were at home.]
Indian reports concerning Logan, after the death of his family, ran to this: that he exerted himself during the Shawanee war, (then so called) to take all the revenge he could, declaring he had lost all confidence in the white people. At the time of negotiation he declared his reluctance in laying down the hatchet, not having (in his opinion) yet taken ample satisfaction, yet, for the sake of the nation, he would do it. His expressions, from time to time, denoted a deep melancholy. Life (said he) had become a torment to him: he knew no more what pleasure was: he thought it had been better if he had never existed, &c., &c. Report further states, that he became in some measure delirious, declared he would kill himself, went to Detroit, drank very freely, and did not seem to care what he did, and what became of himself. In this condition he left Detroit, and on his way between that place and Miami was murdered. In October 1781, (while as prisoner on my way to Detroit,) I was shown the
