CLAN BOYD INTERNATIONAL
Richard
G. Boyd
THE
STORY OF DAVID BOYD
1743-1831
and his
CAPTIVITY BY THE INDIANS
as told by
HESTER BOYD JONES
1893
THE STORY OF DAVID BOYD
1743-1831
In the early part of the eighteenth century
JOHN
BOYD, of
Scotch-Irish ancestry, emigrated from the north of Ireland,
at the age of eighteen and settled in Northumberland County,
Pennsylvania. There he married NANCY URIE.
The Urie family
was prominent among the pioneers of that day. They suffered
untold hardships from the Indians, being prompt
to avenge
their injuries, they knew no rights in that race
that they
were to respect. They became known all over western
Penn-
sylvannia in the forays of those times. Two names, Thomas and
Soloman were very common among the Uries.
DAVID BOYD, the oldest son of John Boyd, was born in North-
umberland County, in 1743. Later John Boyd, and a neighbor,
JOHN STEWART, moved to Cumberland County, Penn., and settled
near where Shippensbury now stands, then an unbroken
wilderness or forest. Their cabins stood more than a mile
apart. John Boyd was a farmer, John Stewart a weaver. On the
10th of February, 1756, John Boyd went over to Stewarts to
get a web of cloth. After he left the house the mother sent
David to "the clearing" as it was called, a short distance
from the cabin, to get some dry wood to build a fire in an
out-oven. It was a Saturday and that was devoted among the
Presbyterians of that day in preparation for the Sabbath, on
which no work not strictly necessary could be done.
2
His brother John, then six years of age, went with him. David
took his hatchet with him and, while cutting the brush, heard
no sound of approaching footsteps. John being a short
distance away, screamed, and David saw a frightful being
standing beside his brother. He had heard of ghosts and
thought this must be one. There were several of them and he
was not long left in doubt. The big one exclaimed "ugh-ugh"
caught David by his belt and threw him over his shoulder.
Another Indian took John in the same style, and off they went
at a fast trot. A band of Indians had left the main body and
surrounded the settler's little home. They soon all came to
the rendezvous, bringing the mother, two sisters, Sallie and
Rhoda, both older than David, and the youngest brother, who
was but two and a half years old. The mother being in a very
delicate state of health, was not able to travel, so she sat
down on a fallen tree. They took her children except the
youngest away from her, one at a time. David looked back and
saw her hands lifted toward heaven as she prayed, "O God be
merciful to my children going among savages." He said that
prayer was ever present with him; he never spoke a word of it
without shedding tears.
As soon as they got the children away the Indians killed the
mother and the youngest boy. They told one of their number to
execute the deed, and when he returned, with the refinement
3
of cruelty that is almost incredible, he gave the scalps to
Sallie and David and forced them to carry them in turn for
the entire day. The house was pillaged and burned, but they
missed the father on his way back from the weavers. Stewart
and his wife were both killed; they had no children. The
savages on these raids went rapidly and stealthily through a
settlement. When John Boyd came in sight of his home it was
burning slowly. He said he could have easily put it out, but
when he found his wife and children gone, he paid no heed to
the house, but hurried off to alarm the other settlers, and
collect a party for pursuit, and, if possible overtake the
marauders and rescue his family. But the Indians moved with
great rapidity, traveling day and night until they were far
from the settlements. The pioneers were few and far between,
and it took some time to organize a party. After the band
started, it was not long until they found pieces of Mrs.
Boyd's dress clinging to the bushes, which led them to the
ravens, where they found the mutilated bodies. The pursuit
was kept up for days, but with no result.
By the time the Indians reached their village the children
were almost nude, having neither clothing nor shoes. There
was no halting to take food; they ate as they ran. The eve-
ning of the third day they stopped, built a fire and roasted
some bear meat which they offered to the children while the
Indians enjoyed the cheese and other provisions which
they
4
had stolen from the settlers. David had no appetite for bear
meat and did not take any. He was planning to escape from
them that night but was secured between two Indians, and the
children were not allowed to speak to each other. The next
morning they arose very early. While preparing to start, the
old Indian, by whom David was afterwards adopted, took a
sharp stick, put a piece of meat on it, held it in the fire a
moment, pushed the piece back, and so on until he had filled
the stick, then secretly handed it to David. He ate the
cooked edges as he ran along, for he had to run to keep up
with them. This was the beginning of a long series of
kindnesses on the part of the old chief during the captivity.
When they reached the Indian's village in Ohio the children
were separated, the booty was divided and David saw the money
which his father had taken to Stewarts to pay for the web of
cloth, counted in the division of the spoils. He supposed for
a long time that his father had been killed also, but the old
chief told him after he had been adopted that they had missed
the father on the way between the two houses.
The raiding party belonged to the Iroquois. The Delawares
were a tribe of the Iroquois1, and David was claimed by
them, the Delawares. The sisters and the youngest brother
were claimed by other tribes. Of John Boyd there is no
further account. 1. (an error made by the author...RGB)
5
Being young he may have succumbed to the hardships of that
barbarous life, or, possibly, adopting their customs, he may
have lived and died an Indian. The next year David met his
sister Sallie with a party of Indians, but was not allowed to
speak to her. He never saw his sisters again until they came
home in 1763. They were held as prisoners seven years, and
were exchanged at Detroit, but not at the same time. They
were never together during their captivity. When Col. Boquet
was bringing in two hundred white captives from the Indians
to Fort Pitt, Rhoda Boyd and Elizabeth STUDEBAKER escaped and
ran back to their wigwam friends, but were again gathered up
and taken to Detroit.
David was subjected by his captors to a discipline that was
intended to make a great brave of him or a fit subject for
their amusement. For some time he had to run the gauntlet,
which amusement (for the Indians) consisted in running a pre-
scribed limit between lines made up of vindictive squaws and
young savage rogues, armed with sticks and stones or whatever
suited their purpose for touching up the paleface young boy.
This amusement David greatly despised. He set his wits about
him to devise some plan to stop it. His old friend imparted
to him the fact that if he should catch one of the boys
separately, where he could have an even chance and succeed in
giving him a sound thrashing, the ceremony would be dispensed
6
with in the future. He was determined to try the experiment
on one boy who was especially ingenious in inflicting torture
on him. He thought that if he died in the attempt, he would
feel some satisfaction if only he could repay in part that
young rascal what he owed him. In any event, he expected
death in a short time; every morning when he awoke, he
thought they would put him to death that day. Every change he
noticed in their countenances he thought indicated some
determination to torture him. Life in such circumstances, one
should think, would have little charm; but to a boy of
fourteen, "hope springs eternal." The Indians had gone out
to gather haws, nuts, etc., for the winter. David Boyd often
said he believed he had eaten the fruit from every haw,
hickory, and walnut tree in the state of Ohio. While they
were in the woods this time this boy was very insolent to
David, and the latter thought that this was now the time to
avenge himself. He sprang upon his tormentor; they had a
rough and tumble fight, but at last the pale-face found
himself on top and he redressed his wrongs as only an in-
furiated boy could. Soon a noise attracted his attention and
looking up saw the squaws and braves running toward him with
tomahawks uplifted "It was sure death now" he thought, and as
it was his last chance, redoubled his blows. The Indians
coming near and seeing his determination, dropped their
weapons and patted him on the back saying "Make good Indian,
7
make good Indian." That was the turning point with him; the
boys had wholesome regard for him, and he was no longer the
target for the squaws vengeance.
The first year of the captivity was drawing to a close. He
still belonged to the tribe in common; he must come and go as
ordered by anyone. It had been a dreadful year for him.; he
had suffered greatly for want of clothing and exposure.
Towards the end of January, 1757, he missed his old friend
from camp and was greatly troubled on account of his absence.
When the chief had been absent about two weeks one morning
two warriors came to David, tricked out in all the finery and
paint of the warpath. Commanding him to follow, they took him
about two miles to a river. There they stripped him entirely
of whatever tatters he had on him and dipped him three times
in the water, and saying each time, "Go down white man, come
up Indian," then they shaved his head, leaving a small tuft
of hair on the crown. They painted him in the most approved
style, put a hunting shirt on him, and fastened the same belt
on him that he had worn when he was captured. They then led
him to a pool of water to look at himself in nature's mirror.
The two warriors jumped and danced around him, seeming de-
lighted with their handywork. On the contrary, David was
struck with horror with his appearance. He looked so much
like an Indian that he thought he must really
be one, and
8
that was the way they were made. They next took him back to
the village, which was all in commotion. The warriors were
all dressed in war costume, painted and in file, ready to
march. He was put in front, and with indescribable noise,
which they call music, they set out. As often as my
grandfather related this to me he would say, " my child
I cannot describe my feelings as I marched along; I could not
conceive what they were about to do with me, but I supposed
they were going to put me to death, as there was nothing else
that they would make such a parade about. I had never seen
anything like it among them before, and they gave me no
intimation of what they were about to do." They traveled
about six miles, in close file, when they reached an open
space or natural meadow. There was a great gathering of the
tribe formed in a large circle. When the procession came up
the circle opened and he was ushered in. There he saw
standing in the center an old brave with a knife in his hand,
and looking very stern. David had never seen this man, and of
course took him to be the executioner. The man advanced knife
in hand, and inserted it under the boy's belt and cut it
apart. David was sure he had received his death-blow; he
imagined he felt the warm blood trickling to his feet, and
expected to see it on the ground. At that moment his old
friend took him into his arms, exclaiming in the Indian
language, "My son, my son, my son!" David then recognised his
9
friend, who made an oration to the assemblage, saying that he
called on them to witness that he took the boy to be his own
son in the place of the one that was lost on the war trail.
He then took the belt that had been cut off and divided it
into many pieces, giving the largest to his nearest friend.
He gave David an Indian name, and presented him with the
hatchet with which he had been cutting brush when he was
captured. This was followed with great feasting and dancing,
with plenty of firewater. While they were all engaged with
their amusements the old chief withdrew quietly, and taking
David with him sought his own wigwam; he feared that in the
drunken carousal some accident might befall the new-made
Indian. The old wife welcomed and claimed him for her own,
bathed his feet, removed the thorns, applied some healing
salve, and made life worth living again. From this time on he
could make no complaint of his suroundings. His Indian father
was a man of influence in the tribe, and the son enjoyed the
advantages of his position. The chief took him to his heart,
and always called him "my son" My grandfather always said
that he was a good and noble man. He worshipped the Great
Spirit in truth, recognised a "Superior Power" that regarded
the actions of man, and whenever he ate his food he invoked
the spirit by raising his hand heavenward three times, crying
"Ho! Ho! Ho!"
10
As time passed on David began to be content with his lot in
life, or, at least, to be reconciled to his fate. He gave up
all hope of getting home, and at his age a boy would be
pleased with the desultory life of the savages. He retained
his love of hunting during life, and was an expert with the
rifle until age dimmed his sight.
One day while hunting haws, which seemed to be a favorite
pursuit with him, he came upon a white man sitting on a log
looking as if he was in great terror and apprehension. The
man said he thought the Indians were going to burn him. On
looking around David saw a party of Indians arranging a fire.
He was powerless to rescue the man, and hurried away in
horror. He never learned what happened to the prisoner.
In the autumn of 1757 a great hunt was organized to procure
provisions for the ensuing winter. The squaws were taken
along to relieve the men of all the drudgery such as caring
for the game, carrying the stores, etc. One old squaw had
charge of the ammunition, and one day, as they were camping
about noon, she remembered that the powder had been left at
the camp of the previous night. There was great consternation
as on the powder supply depended the supply of meat for the
winter. The braves decided to send two of their fleetest boys
for the powder, and, much to David's disgust, he was chosen
one of the two. His father positively refused to let him go,
11
as it was a matter of great concern he finally consented. He
and a young Indian his own age set out with all speed, but
when they came near the former camp they heard a great
explosion. The wind had started up the expiring fire, and the
powder was ignited. It was sundown and the boys concluded to
stay there that night and rejoin the party the next day.
Seeing a drove of turkeys they secured one, and soon had it
roasting before the fire. But the appetizing odor attracted a
pack of wolves and the boys had to seize the turkey and run
for their lives. They were very hungry and tore off bits of
the half-roasted turkey as they ran, but, as, the wolves were
gaining on them, they soon had to throw the bird to them to
detain them for a time. It did detain them until the boys had
time to climb into a tree. Here they were besieged all night
by the ravenous brutes that snarled and yelped, gnawed at the
trunk of the tree and tried to jump into the branches to
capture the young hunters. He said they did not get sleepy;
the music was not soothing. When the wolves left they resumed
their journey and regained their former camp about noon. Some
of the Indians met them a little way out and were greatly
troubled over the disaster. Of course their wrath fell on the
head of the old squaw, who in turn tried to wipe out her
indignities on the boys; she sought to kill them saying they
could have reached the place in time to avoid the misfortune.
The old chief interposed his authority, but told David to
keep out of sight of the infuriated old woman until her anger
burned out.
12
The captive boy, to all appearance, had now cast his lot with
the red man. He had no idea that any member of his family was
still living. Although in his farthest wanderings, he had
never been what would be now more than a few hours ride from
his own home, he was more readily separated from it than he
could be in the most distance part of the country, if not the
world. The French and the Indians were still at war with the
English. The winter of 1757 and 1758 was spent in hunting,
fishing and idling about in the village. In the spring of
1758 there was great commotion in the camp; messengers came
and went, war councils were held, orations were made, dancing
induldged in, and finally they set out on the war-path. The
end of their journey found them, French and Iroqois together,
at Fort Duquesne. During this campaign these united forces
utterly defeated Grant, who led an English force against the
fort. The story is perpetuated in the street and hill that
still bear his name in Pittsburg.
After the defeat of the English the allies quarreled over the
division of the spoils. The Indians grew so angry that they
withdrew across the river and returned to their villages. The
French, abandoned by their allies, evacuated the fort, and
when General Forbes came west to retrieve Grant's disaster,
he found no enemy. The Indians now disgusted with the French,
made overtures to Forbes for peace. They returned once more
to the fort, then in possession of the English
and called
13
Fort Pitt. Then they crossed the river and marched up to the
stockade between two lines of bayonets. As David Boyd passed
between these lines of soldiers, no one suspected his white
parentage. Bronzed by the exposure of years, with dark com-
plexion, black eyes and straight hair, he readily passed for
an Indian. The man who adopted him felt he should surrender
him, yet such was his love for the boy that he hesitated. He
questioned David regarding his wishes, holding out many
inducements to him to return to the wildnerness and stay a
little while longer, when then he, the chief, would take him
to his father's own door. He now for the first time revealed
to David that his father had been missed at the time of the
massacre. The chief then paid an Englishman two dollars to
write and forward a letter to Mr. John Boyd, telling him that
his son, David was still living, and assured him that he
would be returned in safety to his home. The letter was
delivered according to the contract, but the father was
incredulous; he had never, since that fateful morning, heard
one word from any of his children. He believed that the
messenger had forged it in order to impose on him in some
way, and that surely his son would have availed himself of
such an opportunity to return to his own people. It is
difficult for us at this time, to understand the limitations
of that day.
14
David's benefactor became anxious to know something of the
white man's learning. When the boy was captured he chanced to
have two or three leaves of an old psalm book in his pocket.
These he carried with him and read daily while he had a
pocket, and when the pocket was gone, he put the leaves in
the recesses of an old tree. As often as he passed that way
he took them out and read them over, until there was no
longer a word on them. He read them to his foster father, who
became quite interested in the psalm. So the chief asked to
be taught, at least, the alphabet. With a small bit of board
and a piece of red keel, David set about his task. He had a
willing pupil and the alphabet was soon mastered. About the
same time a bible in some way fell into their hands, and then
David had the satisfaction of hearing his learner read.
A year had passed since their return from Fort Pitt. The
winter had been spent in trapping for furs, and they had been
very successful. The furs had been carefully stored, no sale
had been made at the usual time. With the taciturnity common
to his race, he made no explanation of his plans to David,
but it began to be evident to him that the old man was much
agitated. One evening as the sun was about setting, and they
were sitting in their wigwam, which was a little distance
from the village the chief said "Do you see how swiftly the
sun is going down?" My sun will soon set too; then I shall be
in the happy hunting ground where my son is, and I want to
15
restore you to your father before I go." David thought that
he wanted, as far as in him lay, to atone for the great wrong
that he had done. He was the very Indian that had snatched
him from his family; and left his father childless and
homeless. But the savage had great misgivings about venturing
on the journey; the time had been too short to allay enmity
between the two races. He would ask David how he thought his
father would receive him when he brought back his long lost
son, then walk back and forth, looking very sad. He was
attached to the boy, but felt that the red man's future was
waning, and so was anxious for his sons future. The old
wife was dead and he had no near kindred; declining years
hung heavily upon the old man, and the young captive was
loath to leave him. As spring opened the old man made his
preparations slowly but steadily. Selecting the best ponies,
they packed the furs on them and started eastward in a diff-
erent plight from that which they made their forced march
westward in the gloomy winter of 1756. The chief said he
would see to their safety while in Indian territory, but he
must look to David when they got among the palefaces. They
traveled with a white cloth borne aloft as a flag of truce.
They kept on without incident until they reached Carlisle,
arriving in the afternoon. It was soon noised through the
place that an Indian had brought in a white boy. Thomas Urie
was soon on the spot, anxious to learn whether it might be
one of his murdered sister's family, and made
a furious
16
attack on the old Indian. But cooler heads intervened and he
was prevented from wreaking his fury on the creature standing
under his flag of truce. It was a bitter thought to a Urie
that this of all Indians should go unpunished. The chief, in
his own dialect, bade David beware of such a man; that he
might not be a relative at all; but the boy recognised his
uncle. Refusing to hold any parley with any Indian, except at
the muzzle of a rifle, Urie took his nephew home with him.
The old Indian felt it was a cruel return for all his
kindness. When David recounted to his uncle the unvarying
kindness of his old friend, he became more reasonable and
consented to his return the next morning to the Indian but,
when he wished the Indian to meet his father, Urie utterly
refused to allow the chief to go any farther. This was a
great disappointment, as it was the Indian's desire to take
the boy to his father's own door. Finding the feeling so
hostile against him, the old man set out about making pre-
parations for his return. He sold the ponies for a
considerable sum, bought clothing for the boy, so he would
be presentable, and gave him the balance of the money, re-
taining only enough to carry him back to his own people. From
my grandfather's account it was a very sad parting to both;
he would look sorrowful whenever he spoke of it. He never saw
or heard from him again. It was very possible that the chief
reached the happy huntng ground before he crossed the Ohio.
17
John Boyd still lived near Shippensburg, on the very farm
from which David had been taken. Things were greatly changed.
The father had married again; neither mother, sister nor
brother was there to welcome the returned captive. He had
grown fond of his free wild life, and was greatly dis-
satisfied with his new surroundings. He determined to rejoin
his Indian friends, and live and die among the people of his
adoption. He had to be watched for several weeks before he
relinquished his scheme. He was in his seventeenth year when
he came back to civilized life.
In 1771 David Boyd married Elizabeth HENDERSON, of a wealthy
and influential family. Hon. Jere Black was descended from
the same family. My grandmother told me that when she first
met my grandfather she was afraid of him because he looked so
much like an Indian, for in those days people were very much
afraid of them. She also said that the first night that they
were under the same roof they erected the family altar, and
that worship had never been omitted, morning or night, during
all their married years.
Mr. David Boyd was a soldier of the Revolution, serving con-
tinously throughout the war, having enlisted three times. He
was engaged on the bloody field of the Brandywine, saw the
crossing of the Delaware, and the surprise at Trenton. He was
at Valley Forge during that terrible winter when the blood
from the bare feet of the soldiers marked the frozen ground.
18
He told of the elation in the army on the arrival of La-
Fayette, bringing succor from France. He was present in the
army of Gates when Burgoyne surrendered at Saratoga in 1777,
and was also with Washington when Cornwallis surrendered at
Yorktown. He had the rank of Lieutenant. Though he could
forgive the red race and justify many things that they did on
account of the wrongs they suffered, such was his hostility
to the British that in 1828, when every son he had voted for
John Quincy Adams, he cast his vote for Andrew Jackson,
saying that if he whipped the British he could be trusted to
govern the United States. His boys, as children will, said
"father is growing old".
Grandfather early united with the Presbyterian Church under
the ministrations of the Rev. Samuel Waugh, at Silver's
Spring, Cumberland County, Pennsylvannia. He was one of the
straightest of the sect. He believed in the doctrines and
usages of the church; in the Westminster Confessions of
faith; though it embodied truths taught in the Old and New
Testaments. Sacramental occasions were times of great
spiritual comfort to him. He observed the fasts neither
eating or drinking during the entire twenty-four hours of
Thursday preceding the Communion. In the County where he was
captured ten children were born to him, the five older being
daughters, the five younger being sons. On account
of his
19
large family he decided to move west, and accordingly, in the
autumn of 1794, came to Washington County. He purchased a
farm nine miles west of Washington on the West Middletown
road. This farm is now, 1893, owned by Mr. W.W. Dinsmore. He
felt that he was in the "far west". A church of his choice,
Upper Buffulo, was soon organized, in whose welfare he was
always interested. His house was immediately on one of the
chief thoroughfares of the county, and the hospitality of
those days abounded. Many old soldiers, crippled by the
hardships they had undergone, and many enslaved by the
viscious habits they contracted, passed to and fro, eking
out, some of them, a precarious living by peddling wooden
hay-forks, shovels, ladles, and other specimens of their
handicraft. These men he invariable entertained without money
and without price. They would enjoy a happy hour, shouldering
their crutches and fighting over their battles and when they
were ready to pass on he would advise them, adding, according
to their wants, a little money to help them on their way. He
was delighted when the government passed a pension act,
meager as it was, because it would bring aid to many veterans
disabled by age or poverty. He positively refused to make
application for aid in his own behalf, as he had been
fortunate in escaping the vices which are most inseparable
from army life, and had for his simple wants a competance. He
was very lenient towards the failings of his old comrades,
20
his heart and purse being ever open to their wants. He was a
great reader and loved books. History, politics and theology
were well represented in his library.
His eldest daughter Nancy, married Thomas GILSON, and settled
near Carlisle, where some of her descendants still live. The
second daughter, Mary married Thomas CHRISTIE, and moved to
Ohio. The third girl, Sallie, married William WAUGH, and they
came west with her father. Her eldest son Richard Waugh, was
born in her father's house before they were established in
their own home. The fourth, Nellie married Hugh LYTLE, some
of whose descendants live near Steubenville. The oldest son
James, married Mary BUCHANAN, and brought up a large family
near Independence, Washington County, where he died in 1881,
and in his 99th year. John the second son married Asenath
WILLIAMS and settled in West Middletown, Pennsylvannia. He
brought up a large family, and died at an advanced age,
respected by all who knew him. Thomas Boyd married Ruth
SCOTT, inherited the old homestead, but, late in life,
settled in Hayesville, Ohio. The fourth son, David, married,
but died while still a young man. The youngest son, William,
married Mary Patty BARKLEY of Kentucky and settled near
Maysville where his posterity may still be found. Elizabeth Boyd
married a Mr. BARKLEY, probably a brother to
her brother William's wife.
21
In the year 1831, at age 88, the subject of this sketch,
having been preceeded six years by his wife, was laid to rest
in the Cemetary adjoining the church that he had helped to
rear and long supported, realizing to the fullest extent the
efficacy of the prayer of his mother on that fateful evening
in his early life, for "God had
been merciful to him".
NOTE: The narative here given is on the authority of Mrs.
Hester Boyd Jones, a grandaughter of David Boyd. Mrs. Jones
was a very intelligent lady, with an uncommonly good memory,
and in her youth she often heard her grandfather relate the
story of his adventures and perils. This was first put down
on paper in 1893.
Joseph Waugh
NOTE: 1966, retyped from a carbon copy owned
by Paul T.
Clemons, Boulder, Colorado by Evelyn K. Sabec,
Casper,
Wyoming, daughter of Clinton C. Clemons.
NOTE: 1988, retyped from a 1966 copy in
the possession
of John K. Cosselman, by Richard G. Boyd of Mt.
Morris,
Michigan.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
The National Society of the Daughters of the American Revolution
Volume 158 [p.1] page 12
Mrs. Ella Bruce Gilson Bladen.157035
Wife of James Hackney Bladen.
Descendant of William Gilson, David Boyd and Maj. Abraham Haff, as follows:
1. Charles Abraham Gilson (1839-92) m. 1865 Harriet E. Morrison (1846-1908).
2. Richard Gilson (1795-1874) m. 1827 Martha Haff (Biggs) (1799-1873).
3. Thomas Gilson (1765-1813) m. 1787 Mary (Nancy) Boyd (1772-1846);
Abraham
Haff, Jr. (1769-1813), m. 1795 Frances Dern (1778-1811).
4. William Gilson m. 1st 1764 Elizabeth Craighead; David Boyd m.
1771
Elizabeth Henderson (d. 1825); Abraham Haff m.
1755 Jane Beatty.
William Gilson (1730-1806) served as private
in Capt. James Laird's company,
3d battalion, Cumberland County, Pennsylvania
militia. He died in
Westmoreland County, Pa.
David Boyd (1743-1831) served as private, 1775,
in Capt. James Chambers'
company, Col. William Thompson's battalion
of riflemen, Pennsylvania troops.
He was born in Cumberland County; died in
Washington County, Pa.
Also No. 129257.
Abraham Haff served as captain and was major of the Fredericktown
battalion,
Maryland troops. He was born in Hunterdon County, N. J.; died, 1812,
in
Fredericktown, Md.