SETH HASKINS
The following is a history of Seth Haskin, written June 18, 1902 by his grandson C. E. Owen, Birmingham, Michigan.
Seth Haskin lived in one of the rural districts of Vermont, 110 or 115 years ago. He owned a little gristmill there. He also did quite a stroke of business in trapping for furs of different kinds. I think his wife’s (our grandmother’s) name was Rhoda Litchfield. They had a family of seven children – composed of 3 sons and 4 daughters – Ira, Freedom and John and Rhoda, Betsy, Lucy and Sally, all of whom lived in Ellery at one time except Betsy Childs who lived in Batavia, New York. Uncle Freedom moved from Ellery about 66 or 67 years ago, down on the Conewango below Jamestown.
I will now give you an account of a little episode our grandfather had with some Indians, as I heard my mother state. I believe it to be true.
He had quite a number of traps set one spring as usual and noticed that someone was meddling with them. And he made up his mind to watch them and find out who was stealing his mink. So he got up earlier than usual one morning and went out near his traps and watched for the depredators. He did not have long to wait until five Indians came along robbing his traps. And he got into a little altercation with them about it. And so he made them a proposition that he would take them one at a time and whip all of them, he being a large athletic man. He thought he could handle them all right. If he whipped them they were to leave his traps alone. But if they whipped him, they could steal all they could find and they agreed to the terms.
And so they picked their smallest one first and the old gentleman licked him out the first round. And the second one he served the same way. And the third one came at him. But he soon put him to flight. And the fourth one was quite a strong and plucky fellow but he soon lay sprawling.
And the fifth and last one was a large strong fellow and he thought the old gentleman must be getting pretty well tired out and he could handle him pretty easy. And they went at it and fought some time and Grandfather thought one while he would have to give up. But finally got a good whack at him and laid him out on the ground. The old Indian lay there for a minute or two. And finally got up and said to Grandfather, “Next time me see you in the woods alone, me shoot you.” “All right,” Grandfather said, “You see me first, you shoot me. If I see you first, I will shoot you.” And so they parted. But his traps were not troubled any more.
And quite a long while after that, Grandfather was out in the woods looking for his cow and he happened to look away ahead, ( and I presume he was looking out for the old Indian as well as for his cow ) and he saw the Indian coming right at him. But the Indian did not see him. And Grandfather stepped behind a large tree near by and waited. Pretty quick the Indian came along, passed the tree with his head up and gun on his arm. After he had passed a little way, Grandfather jumped out towards him and said, “You are a dead Indian.” The Indian threw his gun and gave a jump and yelled out, “Me no shoot you, me good friend”, and thus ended the warfare.
But alas, the old man met a tragic death. For as he was going up to the house from the mill, a man named Bennett who had a spite against him for some little cause, followed up behind him with a large black snake whip such as farmers used in those days, and hit him lightly on the legs with the lash. Grandfather turned around, told Bennett to stop or he would shake him, and went along and paid no more attention to him. Then Bennett turned the whip which was loaded with a heavy leaden ball in the butt end and gave him a blow over the head knocking him senseless. He lived but a day or two. He came to his mind long enough to tell what he said to Bennett and that was about all he said.
C. E. Owen
Birmingham, Mich.
June 18, 1902
This Bennett was at Saratoga. He was the first man hung in the State.