The following was found in the Watertown Daily Times, a newspaper published in Watertown, Jefferson County, N. Y. The date of the article appeared was October 8, 1932.

NOTE - September, 2002: I was contacted by a descendant of Elizabeth Barnett. She contributed genealogy information and facts which will appear at the end of the Northman piece.

One hundred and nineteen years ago a Canadian woman accomplished a perilous walk to warn and save a detachment of British-Canadian troops in the Niagara peninsula. Contemporaries recorded her exploint (sic), and she became famous. Ninety-four years ago another Canadian woman -- Canadian by choice and adoption, but not by birth -- performed in similar spirit an equal of not (sic) greater service to Canada. Contemporaries left no published record, and the world has never heard of her. Laura Secord lives immortal in Canadian hearts and minds. Out of the shadowland of the past comes now Elizabeth Barnett, a pioneer school mistress of Upper Canada, summoned by the call of History to take her place in the Vallhalla of Canadian heroines.

Clash of arms in a conflict between nations added a touch of grandeur to Laura Secord’s deed. This story of her sister in heroism is a story of 1838, a less dynamic but equally dramatic year in Canadian history -- a year, not of war but of rumors and threats of war. Canada then was in the throes of the struggle for responsible government. Her people were as a household divided; some stood for things as they were; others were arming, conspiring or agitating to effect a change. In the border states militant men were getting together, inspired by William Lyon Mackenzie to assist in the liberation of Canada from British rule. Out of this activity developed “Patriot Armies of Invasion,” and the Pirates of the Thousand Islands.

Towards the middle of January, that year, a band of these patriots, some six hundred strong -- first in the field and first to retire -- evacuated Navy Island in the Niagara River, and returned to Buffalo. A few nights later, at a council of war held in the Eagle tavern plans were discussed for a renewed attempt at invasion on a greater scale. Those present were Mackenzie, David Gibson, General Rensselaer Van Rensselaer, Bill Johnston the Pirate, two Americans moved by a common hatred of Britain, and some lesser lights. Mackenzie had learned there were traitors in the militia garrison of Fort Henry at Kingston who would spike the guns and open the gates in the moment a Patriot force appeared. Here, then, was a golden opportunity. If Fort Henry fell, Kingston would fall; if Kingston fell, the key to Upper Canada, would be in Patriot hands; if that transpired, thousands of Canadians would flock to the Patriot standard, and victory would be assured! Bill Johnston advised immediate action. “On to Kingston!” became the Patriot slogan.

Details of the campaign were left to Van Rensselaer, commander-in-chief and to Bill Johnston, his chief of staff. Mackenzie himself took no active part in operations; he was jealous of his generalissmo (sic). In his sober moments, which were few, Van Rensselaer evinced a degree of military ability. Johnston, a more temperate man, was the brains and the driving power of the undertaking. Recruiting commenced at once. Circulars were distributed throughout Jefferson county, calling on all friends of Canadian freedom for contributions to the cause. In response to that appeal, money, clothing and provisions were freely given; for the destruction of the Caroline had inflamed American sentiment against Great Britain; and despite the fact that the Patriot’s were defying the laws of the Republic, most of the officials and three-quarters of the population of New York state were in connivance with them. Within three weeks an “army” of two thousand volunteers stood pledged to muster and march at the word of command.

On the night of February Seventeenth, 1838, the State arsenal at Watertown was raided by ‘parties unknown’ and four hundred stand of arms and many boxes of ammunition were taken. In like manner several pieces of cannon were “borrowed” from artillery companies in various towns. Most of these were transferred to French Creek where Bill Johnston lived and Van Rensselaer had his headquarters. Men from Jefferson county came drifting into that village until by the evening of February Twenty-first, they totaled more than six hundred, a mere advance guard, their leaders said -- Patriots all, crusader for Democracy, ready to fight and die amid Canadian snows!

Excellent strategy had been formulated. Eight miles across the St. Lawrence from French Creek was the town of Gananogue (sic), a prosperous place, contailing (sic) stores of flour. Five miles from Gananoque on the Canadian side, was Hickory Island, an advantageous point for onset or retreat. From shore to shore the great river lay frozen to a depth which enabled passage of man, teams and sleighs upon it. The Patriots would assemble on Hickory Island. By a dash across the ice they would surprise and capture Gananoque. Then, with replenished commisariat (sic), on to Kingston, and up with a new flag above old Fort Henry! Success depended on secrecy. February Twenty-second -- Washington’s birthday -- was the date set for the Great Advance.

From a military standpoint it was a masterly scheme. It was largely Bill Johnston’s scheme, inspired by his hatred of all things British, and marked by his usual audacity. Had he been in supreme command -- and no one doubts his competence for such office -- results might have been greatly different. Historians smile at the episode now. American writters (sic) characterize it as a piece of folly from beginning to end. Canadian chronicles, with their usual distorted perspective, picture it as something greater than it was. Actually it was a serious threat against Canada -- probably the most serious since the War of 1812-14. Canadian authorities were caught napping. Incursions across the Niagara and Detroit Rivers were expected, and precautions had been taken. Along the southern frontier, the Niagara eastward, scarcely a musket had been primed or a gun mounted against such contingency.

One bold push by Van Rensselaer’s Patriots at the right time might have altered the course of Canadian history.

A woman foiled their plans.

Elizabeth Barnett was of American parentage. She was born at Stone Mills, N. Y., in 1815, and educated at Lafargeville, near French Creek. Her ambition was to be a school teacher. At the age of eighteen, she graduated with qualification in pedagogy. In 1836, on the suggestion of her brother Miles, who was then living in Gananoque, she removed to that town. She liked Canada and the Canadian people. Her brother returned to the United States; she remained, became a staunch Canadian citizen, and, early in 1837, was appointed to the staff of the old Gananoque school. During her term as teacher she boarded at the home of Dr. William Potter, a prominent physician, by whom she was considered almost a member of the family.

In February, 1838, she paid a brief visit to relatives in Lafargeville, and found herself in the midst of Patriot excitement. All around her, men and women were talking invasion and intervention in a manner and to a degree which boded ill for the peace and security of Canada. This was disquieting enough to a thoughtful young woman who had inbibed Canadian ideals; in common with most right thinking Americans, she held that Canadian affairs should be settled by the Canadian people; moreover, she had a woman’s passionate hatred of war, violence and treachery.

On February twentieth she by chance overheard a conversation from which she gathered a few particulars, including the date of the proposed decent on Gananoque.

That was Elizabeth Barnett’s moment for decision. Gananoque, she knew, was undefended and unprepared, little dreaming of this danger at its doors. Friends of hers, too, were in the army of attack. As a daughter of America, not long severed from her native soil, she might have been forgiven a feeling of sympathy for her compatriots, apart from their political projects. As a citizen of Canada, with only a meagre (sic) stake in that country, she might have been forgiven a tendency toward neutrality. But she was not one who dallied with duty, or temporized with principle. This crisis was a challenge to her loyalty. She met it promptly and decisively.

Like Laura Secord, she had unexpectedly learned a secret of military and national importance. Like Laura Secord she set forth to warn and save fellow Canadians.

A faint and dying legend insists that, to accomplish her purpose, she walked the frozen river. Canadians might well believe it true, even as they have believed that Laura Secord brought first warning to the British at De Cou’s. There are legends more percious (sic) to a people than the baren (sic) facts of their annals.

History concedes only that Elizabeth Barnett would have walked, or attempted to walk, had no means of crossing been available. Any such effort, however, would have defeated its own purpose; the time element was all-important; and even had the strength of one weak woman ben (sic) equal to the venture, detection and detention would have been inevitable. Wisely she chose a better way.

Cutting short her visit on pretext of illness, and keeping her own counsel, she, early next day, was driven in a one-horse cutter to French Creek. There she saw for herself something of the Patriot preparations. In the afternoon she continued in the same conveyance toward Gananoque -- a ten-mile journey across glare ice swept by the freezing winds of February. Few noticed her departure. None suspected her mission; otherwise she would have been held as a traitor.

Twilight had fallen when, chilled to the bone, she reached the Canadian shore. Snugly under snowy roofs and frosty skies reposed the little town which was her home, she told her tale to Dr. Potter. He carried the news to Postmaster John MacDonald. One name alone was sufficient incentive to action -- the name of Bill Johnston. Within an hour the community was in commotion.

Women and children ran from house to house, and fled to the country for safety. Men were called to arms. Couriers were despatched (sic) Kingston, Brockville and other centres; and the word they brought struck near-panic into the populace. Colonel Bonneycastle, commander at Kingston, called out the Leeds militia. Six companies of these, together with the Brockville Rifle company, a detachment of the First Frontenac Troop of Cavalry under Colonel McLean, a volunteer company with three field pieces, and some Indians from the Mohawk reserve, were rushed to the threatened town. A company of lumbermen tore apart a raft of timber, and built a solid breastwork six feet high along the waterfront at the foot of what is now Main street. Scouts were sent out to Grindstone Island, an American possession.

About noon on Thursday, February Twenty-second, one scout returned with the tidings that long trains of sleighs loaded with armed men, were passing between French Creek and Hickory Island. Another reported that he had seen a monstrous cannon, mounted on runners, and hauled by four horses, approaching the Island, and large bodies of men forming in lines of battle.

Black and menacing loomed the shadow of War near peaceful Gananoque.

On Hickory Island, strange unwonted scenes were being enacted. Van Rensselaer was there, resplendent in a uniform that would have graced Napoleon, and filled with the courage created by good French brandy. Company after company of warriors, each under command of a Captain or Lieutenant, came over from French Creek, and dressed their ranks around him. Bill Johnston himself, clad in gray homespun, led fifty picked men to the rendezvous. Teams and sleighs in endless procession crossed from the mainland, bringing volunteers and equipment; some discharged their loads and returned; others, more cautious, returned with their loads intact. Three Canadian spies were captured -- perhaps not altogether by accident; and the accounts they gave of Canadian preparedness lacked nothing in the way of embellishment.

But the tide of fortune had already turned. By noon that day the Patriots faced, not a defenseless town but two counties in arms. Gone was the advantage of surprise on which they had based their hopes. Rumors spread from the Island to the American shore, and one thousand men who were expected failed to appear. Those who had kept the faith lost heart; their courage sank like a barometer before a storm. Half frozen, they lingered, talked and tramped around a while. Then their forces began to disintegrate. Company after company retreated whence they came. Van Rensselaer departed, blaming every cause but the right one for his failure. Bill Johnston was the last to leave.

Back to French Creek went some five hundred men; and the terror they had brought to Canada pursued them home. French Creek feared Canadian retaliation. Night after night, for many nights, blue lights burned in numerous windows, indicating that the occupants of those houses were good Tories, deserving of mercy and consideration at the hands of Tory invaders.

Pinning his faith to a strong offensive, Colonel Bonneycastle, on the morning of February Twenty-third, marched out at the head of the Leeds militia to fight the enemy on their own ground. He found Hickory island deserted; only a few boxes of ammunition, and that monstrous cannon -- it was an oak tree bored full length to a diameter of five inches, and banded with iron -- a Bertha of the backwoods -- remained to evidence what might have been.

Gananoque was saved -- in all probability Fort Henry and the city of Kingston were saved -- the Patriot movement against Upper Canada was given a set-back from which it never recovered -- by Elizabeth Barnett.

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NOTE BY TRANSCRIBER: As stated above, this transcriber was contacted by Sheila Rogstad, great-great-granddaughter of Elizabeth Barnet (Barnett). I present here the essence of her notes in the hope that someone may find the information useful for his/her research. (by Shirley)

In his address, Rev. C. E. Kidd, who conducted the service, referred feelingly to the long and useful life of a loving friend and neighbor, and a consistent member of St. Andrew's Church, basing his remarks on Psalm IV, 8, 'In peace I will both lay me down and sleep for thou alone maketh me to dwell in safety.”