Earl Sawyer Sloan, philanthropist, was born at Zanesfield, Logan County Ohio, 8 Sept. 1848, son of Andrew and Susan B. (Clark) Sloan, and a descendant of Andrew Sloan, who came from the north of Ireland after the revolution and settled at Venango County PA. He was educated in public schools and later studied veterinary medicine, but never practiced. As a youth he went to Missouri, where he joined his brother, Foreman Sloan, in buying and selling horses, following his father's calling. While thus engaged he prepared a liniment for disabled animals, and by chance discovered that the remedy he applied to their ailments and bruises would also relieve human beings similarly affected. He placed his preparation on the market as "Sloan's Liniment," which became known the world over. Its wide and increasing use placed it in the forefront of similar remedies, a position it continues to hold, and it has had thousands of imitators. In 1903 he organized for its manufacture the Dr. Earl S. Sloan, Inc., of which he was president and sole owner, and which at the time of his death had annual sales of approximately $ 750,000. He had an extensive estate at West Roxbury, Mass., but retained a deep interest in Logan Co., OH., which he was regarded as one of its most notable citizens, and every year visited Zanesfield, his native village. One of his many gifts to Zanesfield is the Sloan Library and an endowment of $250,000 for its maintenance. His will directed that eventually all his holdings in West Roxbury, Mass., be sold for the benefit of the schools of Zanesfield. He also directed that his executors establish the Sloan Industrial School at Bellefontaine, Ohio, near his birthplace, for teaching trades and mechanical and domestic science. Substantial bequests were made to the Peabody Home for Crippled Children, Hyde Park, Mass.; the Florence Crittenden League of Compassion, Boston; the New Bern (N. C.) public library; the Masonic Lodge of New Bern for the benefit of the poor children of members; also to the Presbyterian Church, of which he was a member, and the Sloan Library, Zanesfield. He was a Republican in politics and a Mason.

Dr. Sloan was a man of action and vision, swayed by the spirit of unselfish service and high ideals, yet possessing a sense of proportion that made him always practical and useful. He was married, Feb. 8, 1899, to Bertha Parker, daughter of Nelson Woolaver, of Newport, Nova Scotia. He died without issue at West Roxbury, Mass., Sept. 13, 1923.

This article was transcribed from the National Cyclopaedia of American Biography, volume # 20 - UWO and contributed by Wayne Vizniowsk, 12 St. Johns Drive, Arva, Ontario, Canada N0M 1C0. Jan 1997 Visit his Vizniowski & Johnstone Ahnentafel Chart

Born 9 May 1833, St. Clair Township, Bedford Co. Pa.  Entered military service at Colesburg, Delaware County, Iowa as a Private in Company H, 12th lowa Infantry, Union Army.   Awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for action at Nashville, Tn. 16 December 1864.  Award was issued 24 February 1865, for capturing the flag of 1st Louisiana Battery (C.S.A.).  Andrew died in 1875.

Source: Army Center of Military History: http://www.army.mil/cmh-pg/mohciv.htm

An interesting footnote by Sandy Garafola: "You see them every so often, maybe almost too often when you're driving through parts of Iowa.  Small, abandoned country cemeteries.  Burying grounds that have themselves been buried by time and the elements.  And the view in passing is almost always depressingly the same.
     Three and one half miles to the southeast of the town of Colesburg, Ia. there is located what is most commonly referred to as the Platt Cemetery.  It is undoubtedly one of Delaware County's oldest cemeteries.  It appears abandoned.  Platt Cemetery is still not quite typical of all the other deserted cemeteries.  Not quite typical because among the thirty-five stones, is a small white marker of A. J. Sloan (Andrew Jackson), genuine American hero.  Of course, with no beated path to his stone to pay homage, with no shiny plaque telling of his heroic exploits, with no grand monument in honor of his memory, it is not the easiest task to locate his simple Grand Army of the Republic marker.  But the stone, one of few standing, and bears the simple inscription: A. J. Sloan, Co. H, 12th Iowa Infantry.  No mention of his heroism.  His medal.  His terrfic claim to fame.

     The story goes on to tell how a letter to the Colesburg Cemetery, Sexton, asking about Delaware Countie's only Civil War Medal of Honor winner.  The Sexton starting searching for Andrew Jackson Sloan's history, a book blossomed and the government placed a monument in a Colesburg Cemetery to honor the man's memory.

     I stumbled upon the author and his book, and was able to give him the rest of the Sloan story,  so to speak.  In otherwords,  AJ's ancestors and descendants.  To my surprise,  I had no record of Andrew's noteworthy deed either.   The book describes how he stole the flag of the opposing force, thus winning the Civil War battle,  and how he tragically died in a hunting accident a few  years later."

Joseph “Joe” Caldwell Sloan was born 13 Oct 1836 near Cornith, Tishomingo Co. Mississippi.  Joe was one of 11 children born to Dr. Thomas Allen Sloan and Nancy Gill Hester.  Dr. Sloan, son of Irish immigrant Wm. Patrick Sloan, was born in SC, but never stayed too long at one place. At an early age, Allen’s parents moved to Wayne County Tennessee.  In 1835, Allen relocated  to Tishomingo Co. MS. were he had a cotton plantation near Cornith.  In the spring of 1848, Allen again packed up the family, a couple of his slaves, some livestock and headed for Texas.  He bought and sold ranches a few more times and finally settled down in spring of 1855 on the San Saba River at Double Ford (Sutton Crossing) San Saba County, Texas.

At about this time, Joe was in his early 20’s and freighting cotton by wagons with his older brothers.  Years later, Joe related this story to his nephew, Jymes Alan Sloan:  “The Sloan boys had heavy loads driving across the Houston Prairie, and it was very wet and of course boggy.  Just ahead of the Sloan boys were other freighters with slow, weak teams, whereas the Sloan teams were strong and well cared for.  The slow poke teams were holding the strong ones back, because they dared not pull out of the deep ruts and around the slow pokes,  The Sloan boys debated among themselves trying to devise some means of getting ahead of the slow teams, finally William Patrick Sloan said, “Leave it to me, I have a scheme that may work, anyway It’s worth trying.”  Even in the road the ruts being so deep and the mud so clinging a team must be stopped ever so often to blow and rest a spell.  Usually during a rest spell teamsters would get together an chat and exchange news.  William proceeded to carry out his scheme.  Said he, In his opinion if a teamster pulled out of the deep muddy rut onto the turf he would get along easier and of course, faster.  His talk was convincing.  So, all hands fell to and the slow wagons and teams were got out the deep ruts, and actually did get on better for a short time, but soon the wagons were bogged to their axles.  The Sloans being rested, now made good headway.”

After the outbreak of he Civil War in 1861, Joe stopped freighting cotton and enlisted in Company H. 19th Texas Calvary, under Capt John M. Stone. While campaigning in Louisiana, the company came upon the enemy and charged.  Due to the superior Yankee numbers, the company was forced to retreat.  During the withdrawal, one of Joe’s companions had his horse shot out from under him.  When Joe turned back to pick up his comrade, he received a gunshot wound to the left shoulder.  Eventually his left arm and shoulder had to be amputated.  The fact that Joe had been left hand and was handicapped did not deter Joe’s ambitions.  After the war, Joe traveled to the gold fields of California to seek his fortune.  Family traditions has it that Joe won and lost more than one fortune in California.

Joe return to San Saba Co. and went to work on the Chalk Bluff Ranch stocked by his brothers, John Elias  & Nathan Rice Sloan.  It appears that Rice sold out his interest in Chalk Bluff Ranch cattle just as the drought hit west Texas and New Mexico  By Aug 1886, the drought was so severe that John E. Sloan decided it was time to move the 1,500 cattle from Brady Creek west for better grass and water.  Brother, Joe was to head the cattle drive.  John got the drive started down the old Butterfield trail and then returned home, his son Robert continued on with the drive.  It took one year for the drive to reach it destination on the Gila River in Arizona about 60 miles from Globe, half the cattle were lost during the drive.

George Murray, a member of the hired crew, later told this story of the drive:
 “In 1887, I hired out to a man named Joe Sloan, of Richland Springs, Texas, as a cowboy. He was taking a herd of sixteen hundred cattle from Richland Springs, Texas to near Globe Arizona. Besides Joe Sloan and a foreman, named Lon? Roundtree, there were eight cowboys, a cook and a man to take care of the horses. It was late in the fall when we left Richland Springs, Texas, with the cattle. We traveled up the Concho river for sixty miles and crossed the cattle at San Angelo Texas. We had no trouble in crossing the river there as it was at normal stage. From San Angelo Texas on we were on the staked plains and had to make very long drives to water for the cattle. At night, three of the cowboys would stand guard over the cattle, in three hour shifts. The man who looked after the horses had to stand guard too. We had seventy-five head of horses in the rounds, each cowboy had a mount of seven horses.

There were two covered wagons, drawn by two horses to each wagon. One hauled our beds and the other was the "chuck" wagon. There was a chuck box in the back of the chuck wagon. The cook was a man and he had to use buffalo chips to cook with while we were on the plains. He made sour dough biscuits and baked them in a dutch oven.  The only fresh meat we had were the stray yearlings that we found on the plains. We would kill them for meat and for a few days we would have nice fresh meat for meals as the weather was cool enough for it to keep well.

Joe Sloan was the only man in the bunch who had a gun. We were never afraid of the Indians or of cattle thieves and we were never bothered by them.

We crossed the Pecos River at Pontoon Crossing, about one hundred and sixty miles east of Pecos City, Texas. We had no trouble in crossing the cattle, although we had to swim them across.

From Pontoon Crossing we went on by way of Pecos City, Texas, (this town is now called Pecos, Texas) and from there we headed in a Northwestern direction for the Sacramento Mountains, in New Mexico. The weather was getting cold and we needed protection for the cattle, as some of them were getting pretty weak. We passed through Seven Rivers, New Mexico, which was about fifty miles north{south} of Roswell, New Mexico. Seven Rivers was in Lincoln County at that time. From there we went to Penasco country, in the Sacramento mountains, in New Mexico, where Joe Sloan left five hundred head of the weakest cattle in a pasture, for the winter. We came out of the Sacramento mountains at Tularosa, New Mexico, and to the north of the White Sands, through Mocking Bird Gap, in the [Organ?] mountains.

We watered at Mal Pais springs, which is just at the foot of the Mal Pais, in the Organ Mountains, and from there we had to drive the cattle a distance of sixty five miles, without water, until we reached the Rio Grande River. We crossed the Rio Grande near what is now Hot Springs, New Mexico. At Lake Valley New Mexico, we ran into an awful snow storm. This was in Sierra County. I left the herd, just after crossing the line of New Mexico and Arizona, at Duncan, Arizona.”

Joe and his nephew Robert stayed in Arizona for several years.  Joe (already missing his left arm) was stuck with rheumatism/arthritis while living in Arizona.  Hoping the change of climate would improve his health, he returned to San Saba County where he became a member of the Presbyterian Church and the Masonic Lodge.  Joe was never married and when his health soon got worse, his sister Mary and her husband George Campbell offered to care for Joe in their home.  Relatives generously contributed to their finances, and George untiringly nursed him until his death.  Joe died 28 June 1925, in San Sabe Tx. he was buried with Masonic honors at the Wallace Creek Cemetery in San Sabe County.

Jym Alan Sloan remembered his uncle as “a man of very decided opinions, believed that all Yankees were minions of the Devil and that Negros had no more soul than the beasts of the wildwood.  He had great pride of family, held that Americans of the South were the superior of all nations on earth.  In politics, was a red hot Democrat, contending that all political corruptions originated in the Republican Party.  He was never neutral - no half way measure for him, either negative or positive whole hog or none! Generous to a fault, if he liked you, he liked you and said it by deed and word.  If he disliked you he let you strictly alone.  He suffered long and hard but never uttered a murmer.  God rest his soul!”

This article was abstracted and compiled by Frank Mitchell, 18 Apr 1997, from the following sources:
References:
1.  “House of Sloan - Sloan Family Record” -The John Elias Sloan Branch- a typed manuscript by James Allen Sloan {Jymes Alan Sloan}, 1959
2.   A Pioneer Story narrated by George Murray, aged 74 years of Carrizozo, New Mexico, 26 Sep 1938.  The story was recorded/published on the internet as part of the Library of Congress’s  “American Life Histories: Manuscripts from the Federal Writer’s Project 1936-1940”  URL: http://lcweb2.loc.gov/ammem/wpaintro/

If you have more details (such as other members) concerning the cattle drive, please contact Frank Mitchell

Captain John Sloan was a pioneer settler of Westmoreland County, Pennsylvania, an officer in the Revolutionary War, and a well known Indian fighter. He was appointed as Sheriff of Westmoreland County, Pennsylvania, in 1804 and served a full, 3-year term.

Mr. Editor.  I have just received from Colonel John Sloan, of Clarion Co., Pa., the following narrative, or reminiscence, of the old Indian war times, with the request that I would have you publish it in your valuable paper.  Knowing, as he and I do, that men of our advanced age (he being near the close of his eighty-second year, and I being near the close of my eighty-third), and of olden times are fast passing away, and if incidents of old Indian warfare are to be gathered from the memories of men who have lived in the troublesome times of the last century, when the Indian warrior was upon the war path, if not gathered and published now, will soon be too late, and many interesting incidents will be lost forever.
    Rev. Robert A. Sherrard.

Here follows Colonel Sloan's introduction to what he has written.  He says, "I would remark that General Orr called on me several years since, and got these incidents of Indian warfare, and sent them to Nevil[le] B. Craig of Pittsburg, who was at that time collecting incidents of Indian warfare, and would soon have published them, but died before accomplishing his purpose.  And, as I knew of no other person that could give this information, I have thought it my duty to the public to give this narrative.

I was born on the 6th day of July, 1790, which was not long before my father, Captain John Sloan, and John Wallace (The Nephew of Captain John Sloan's Wife), escaped as the only two survivors in the attack on the Miami.  No doubt they were the means in the hands of Providence, of saving Fort Hamilton from being captured by the Indians.  I have given the facts as I got them from my father and John Wallace at a time [when] my memory was strong.  I have never seen these facts published.
     Col. John Sloan, Clarion County, Pa.

After the foregoing introduction, we will let Colonel John Sloan, Jr. tell the tale, as he, at an early period of his life received it from his father, Captain John Sloan.

"It was in the fall of 1795 that Captain John Sloan and John Wallace, a nephew of his, and two other men of the name of Hunt and Knott, being fond of adventure, formed themselves into a small company for the purpose of making an exploring tour through the western country.  Their residences were near Latrobe, on Loyalhanna Creek, Westmoreland County, Pa.  These four men had but two horses to carry their provisions, and had to ride and walk time about.  On their journey they stopped at Fort Washington, where Cincinnati now stands; and it appears they got along so far without any particular occurrence taking place.  But they had a particular object in view, and a strong desire to see the Miami country, some twenty miles further west of Fort Washington.  They continued their journey, and encamped for the night on the bank near the big Miami river.  In the morning, after eating of such food as they had, it became the turn of Captain Sloan and Mr. Knott's to ride.  After they had mounted their horses and rode some distance, they were fired into by a party, as they supposed, of about thirty Indians.  Knott was shot and fell dead off his horse.  Captain Sloan was shot through the left side, and another shot passed through his shot pouch on his right side, but he did not fall.  Hunt and young Wallace, being on foot, ran for life.  Hunt was caught and made prisoner.  Wallace ran on at the top of his speed, and at this time an exciting scene took place; young Wallace, running for [his] life, hotly pursued by thirty Indians.  He kept his distance ahead of them, until unluckily, he tripped and fell his whole length on the ground, his gun at the same time, flew out of his hand, at which time his pursuers nearly had him in their grasp, but he was on his feet in an instant, and seizing his rifle, called at the top of his voice, 'Oh, uncle, don't leave me.'  Captain Sloan, by this time had caught the horse that Knott fell from when shot, and was holding him ready for Wallace to mount when he came up, and by that time he was nearly run down.  Wallace made an effort to mount into the saddle, but failed, his uncle still holding his horse in check; he then gave his gun to his uncle, and with help he got seated in the saddle, but not a moment too soon, for the Indians were by this time close upon them.  But there was no need of urging their horses into a gallop, for they appeared to be frightened at the report of guns and savage yells as they advanced to either kill, or take the two prisoners, and, as taught by instinct, went off in double quick time, and very soon left their pursuers far behind.  The Indians gave up the chase.

When they got clear of the Indians, Wallace said to his uncle, 'you are wounded.'  The blood was at the time trickling down the horse's side and dropping off his belly.  Their object was to make their way back to Fort Washington.  They knew of Fort Hamilton, standing on the bank of the big Miami, and also knew it was their duty to inform the garrison of the near approach of the Indians then in the neighborhood.  Accordingly, they called at the Fort, and the inmates became much alarmed on getting the information, and insisted on them staying at the Fort over night.  They agreed, and did stay as requested.  They were up early next morning, anxious to get back to Fort Washington, where medical aid could be had, as Captain John was suffering from his wound.  But they soon found their chance was small to get to Fort Washington, for on opening the gate of the Fort about break of day the next morning, they found it surrounded by about three hundred Indians.  Fort Hamilton was but weak at the time, as it contained but about twenty men, women and children, and a young officer who had charge of the Fort.  The Indians demanded a surrender.  The young officer said to Captain Sloan that they could not hold the Fort against such a vast number of Indians and thought it best to surrender.  'No,' said Captain Sloan, 'we will not give up the Fort.'  'Well,' said the young officer, 'you must take the responsibility, and the command of the Fort also.'  Captain Sloan agreed to do so, and went up to the top of the Fort, in full view of the enemy, and had a talk of near an hour on the subject of surrender.  And here it may be well to observe that any prisoners in possession of the Indians, under such circumstances, if a surrender is not made, are sure to meet immediate death.  Hunt, whom they had made a prisoner the day before, was with them, and standing along side of the interpreter pleading with all the eloquence in him, for Captain Sloan to give up the Fort, knowing well what would be his fate if no surrender was made.  (Hunt, the prisoner, was taken away and tomahawked in the most savage manner.*)  Captain Sloan told them the garrison had no fear of what they [Indians] could do; that they might come on; that they had ammunition and provisions plenty, and would fight as long as they might think proper, and then stepped down that instant out of view, before the interpreter gave the information to the Indian chief.  Their guns the next instant went off like a clap of thunder, accompanied by the Indian war-whoop, which was kept up during the night.  The writer heard Captain Sloan say he never felt the least fear at the time of the conversation with the Indian interpreter, nor at any time during the fight.  At night, the Indians made an effort to burn the Fort, but it did not succeed, as they were fired upon.  During the seige, an Indian took Captain Sloan's horse out of the stable, and had the Captain's cocked hat on, which he lost the day before in the skirmish at the time he was wounded in the left side.  The Indian rode round in a circle far enough to be out of the danger from the guns of the Fort.  The Indians took all the horses with them when they left.

The way Captain Sloan took a scalp off one of their braves is worthy of notice.  It occurred during the fight.  A large Indian got in pretty close to the Fort, behind a corn crib, under cover from the guns of the Fort, and after being in that retreat for some time, it appeared that he got tired of it, and concluded to get away.  At the time, Captain Sloan was sitting on a block at a port hole, unable to load his gun, but had a man to load for him, as his wounded side was in such a situation as not to give him a chance to exercise himself as such an occasion required.  He kept his eye close on the big Indian behind the corn crib.  The Indian put the barrel of his gun out past the end of the crib, in order to get some one to shoot, that he might bounce out and get to a more safe situation. Captain Sloan fired and immediately grabbed another loaded rifle. The moment the Indian made a spring out from the crib and turned to make off, the Captain shot him through the shoulders and he fell dead in his tracks.  (The account in The Clarion Republican said that Captain Sloan shot and brought him to the ground, whereupon he crept back under the corn crib where he died.)

The fight continued for twenty-four hours, when for some cause, probably the Indians were afraid of reinforcement from Fort Washington, they left in great haste, after burning every thing they did not roast and eat, taking with them all the horses belonging to the Fort, and went immediately to where the big Indian lay that he [Captain Sloan] had shot during the fight, but he was too close to the Fort to be taken away by his comrades. The Indians, fearing reinforcement of the Fort, finally withdrew. After they had gone, Captain Sloan went to the Indian he had shot and pulled out the dead Indian's knife from its scabbard and took off the Indian's scalp, the hair of which was strung full of beads, which Captain Sloan brought home with him as a trophy.  The loss of this warrior might have had the effect of discouraging the Indians and induced them to give up the seige."

Colonel Sloan here presents to the rising generation another incident of Indian depredation in a warfare perpetrated on defenseless whites on the frontier settlement.  He says, in connection with the above:  "I think it my duty to give another instance of Indian warfare, always attended with acts of savage barbarity.  And I submit it the more willingly as I have never saw [sic] it published.  I presume I am the only person living that is acquainted with the facts, as the occurrence took place in the neighborhood near where my father, Captain John Sloan, then resided.

It was in 1791 that a party of Cornplanter Indians (about 4 or 5) came to the house of a family by the name of Mitchell, consisting of a mother, daughter and son, who resided about two miles up the Loyalhanna creek, above where Latrobe now stands, in Westmoreland County, Pa.  The daughter and son, Susan and Charles, were in the stable loft when the Indians came in sight, Charles, who was about seventeen years of age, undertook to make his escape by running, but was captured while crossing Loyalhanna creek.  While the Indians were engaged capturing Charles, Susan had the presence of mind to go into the horse stable and turn a large horse trough over her.  When the Indians returned, after capturing Charles, Susan was nowhere to be found.  They then went to the house, and took Mrs. Mitchell prisoner, and made their retreat northword [sic].  By the evening of the same day, the Indians found that Mrs. Mitchell was unable to travel, and part of the Indians fell back with her, and a part continued their march, and when night overtook them, they kindled a fire, and soon had the scalp of Mrs. Mitchell, and took the pains to dry it before the fire, and that, too, in the presence of her son, Charles.  They continued their march next morning, and when they got near Mahoning creek, in Armstrong County, Pa., they came on the tracks of two white men, where their course led them across a low wet piece of ground.  At this point, the tracks of the two white men lead off along the side of the ridge.  Charles Mitchell and the Indians saw these two men at a distance.  Charles knew them to be Captain Sloan and Hardy Hill, they being his near neighbors. There was snow on the ground, and it being soft, and Captain Sloan being a large man, six feet three inches, with moccasins pretty well patched, made a large track.  One of the Indians pulled out his ramrod and measured the moccasin track, and holding it up said, 'great sarawick, great sarawick;' 'yes,' said Charles, 'that's big Captain Sloan, a great Indian fighter.'  It appeared that the Indians had thought of attacking them, and Mitchell knew that his fate was sealed if they did.  So it happened that the big moccasin track prevented an attack.  When Captain Sloan and Hill came down off the side of the ridge, they came on the Indian tracks, and concluded that by getting ahead of them they would cross Mahoning creek, and probably might defeat the Indians; but upon examining their tracks they discovered a white man's in company, and knowing if they would attack them, the Indians would kill the prisoner, they gave it up, not knowing at the time that the white man with the Indians was Charles Mitchell, their neighbor.  I may as well remark that my father, Captain Sloan, after returning from the seige of Fort Hamilton, received the appointment of Captain of Rangers, or Indian Spies, and was out at this time making observations and discoveries with regard to the better defense of the frontier settlements against the inroads and depredations of the savage Indians.  At the time of the capture of the Mitchell family, the writer was the youngest of five small children [Ann, Margaret, Lavinia, Samuel, and John], with their mother residing about three-fourths of a mile north of the Mitchell family.  If the Indians had come to our place instead of the Mitchell's, there could not have been any resistance made, as my father, Captain John Sloan, was out on the frontier at the time.  It was also well known to the old settlers of these early times spoken of above, that Simon Girty, who was well known at the time and place of the burning of Colonel Crawford, the 11th day of June, 1782, in Upper Sandusky, Crawford County, was also with the Cornplanter Indians in 1791, giving them directions.  Simon Girty knew Captain Sloan, and that it would not be advisable to go to his place had he been at home."

After transcribing to near the close of Colonel Sloan's narrative, I omitted to let the public know what became of Charles Mitchell, for I knew that inquiry would be made, as to whether he had been killed or not.  Accordingly, I wrote to Colonel [John] Sloan [Captain John Sloan's son] and in due time received the following reply:

     Limestone, Pa, Jan. 3, 1872

Mr. Robert A. Sherrard - Dear Friend: - I will supply the omission with regard to Charles Mitchell.  He was taken to Cornplanter's town, and adopted by an old squaw, whom he had called mother, and had to obey her commands.  After remaining a prisoner for three years, he was set at liberty, and returned back to his old home in the same neighborhood from whence he was made a prisoner, and in due time he married and settled upon the old homestead farm, where he raised up a worthy, respectable family.  I worked many a day with Charles Mitchell on my father's farm after his return home.  His three years captivity among the Indians had no influence upon his habits of industry, nor did he ever complain of hard, harsh treatment during his captivity.  He had to help the squaws to hoe their corn, and he thought they worked too late some days, but his mother, the old squaw, would see to it that he should hoe another row before he quit work.

     Col. John Sloan.

The foregoing narrative is submitted for perusal, it being the first time it ever appeared in print.

* Edited out of the newspaper story.
                 **************************************
The above manuscript, written by Col. John Sloan, was again published in The Clarion Republican, Vol. 36, June 16, 1904, Clarion, Pa., with the following lead-in:
Westmoreland Lore -- Thrilling Incidents of Indian Wars in Early Local History -- Captain Sloan an Actor--

 The following thrilling incidents were handed to us by Mr. Thos. Scott Sloan, formerly of Clarion County, now of Greensburg, found in an old manuscript written by his father, Col. John Sloan [about his father, Captain John Sloan], who was Sheriff of Westmoreland County [Penn.] in 1814 [18o4], and who lived on the Loyalhanna Creek near Latrobe.  The manuscript is nicely and plainly written by Col. John Sloan, and has been in the keeping of Thos. Scott Sloan, his son, since 1872.  Col. John Sloan was well known in Clarion County.  He resided in the vicinity of Limestone.  He was a surveyor and spent a great deal of time running lines all over this county [Clarion].  The following is the story:  [See above.]

  It may be noted that in the matter of the capture of Charles Mitchell, the following was omitted:  It was long currently reported in that neighborhood among the descendants of the old settlers that the party of Cornplanters first came to a man by the name of Cleckhorn; that Cleckhorn, in order to save his own life, told them of the defenseless family of Mitchell, that he saved his life by so doing; and that afterwards, when this thing came to be known to the others, he lived a miserable life amongst them, and finally was compelled to sell his place and remove from there to the West, where he died.  (See local history of Derry township, Pa.)  Check here to see worn copy of original clipping

Italian Villa November 1852, Samuel Sloan, Architect

A onetime resident of 152 South Fourth Street, Philadelphia, he is the subject of Harold N. Cooledge, Jr.'s 1980 biography "Samuel Sloan, Architect of Philadelphia."  In 1852 Samuel published  "Sloan's Victorian Houses" a best seller of it's day.  Other writings include "Sloan's City and Suburban Architecture", "Sloan's Constructive Architecture", and "Model Architect".  If my research is correct (I've seen conflicts!), Samuel Sloan was born 7 March 1815 in Honeybrook Township, Chester county Pennsylvania.  He is third of seven children born to Irish immigrant William Sloan and his second wife, Mary Kirkwood. In 1843 he married Mary Pennell, the daughter of James and Mary Pennell.   Mary was born 3 October 1820 in PA. and died 10 November 1891 in Philadelphia. They had at least three children:  1. Ellwood Pennell 2. Howard L. and 3. Ada Sloan.  Samuel Sloan died 1884 in Philadelphia, PA.