GEORGE RAYNOR. 157 



were killed,, and I, a boy of about four years old, was 

 taken by the Seneca Indians and then sent to Canada by 

 a British officer, where I lived with a farmer until I ran 

 away and shipped on a vessel that went to England. 

 There I worked in a cutler's shop and learned the trade. 

 How many years passed I don't know, but the desire to 

 get back to America grew strong, and I went to Liver- 

 pool and shipped for New York. By this time I was 

 a young man, and I worked at my trade until I saved 

 money enough to try to seek my relatives, if I had any. 

 I remembered a sister, Susan, and a brother, John, both 

 older than I, and I longed to see them. I had forgotten 

 the name of the place where the massacre occurred, and 

 I did not know in what State it happened. There was 

 an indistinct recollection of an alarm at night, a hurrying 

 to arms, and the burning of buildings and killing of 

 people. I had kept a little picture book with my name 

 in it. One day a lady came in the New York shop, and 

 bought some cutlery to be shipped to some point in Lu- 

 zerne County, Pa. The name of the place seemed fa- 

 miliar, and I talked with her. She knew of my people, 

 and the result was that I went there and afterward mar- 

 ried her daughter That's what we call an eel-pout 



that Pete's got. The fish is not eatable. Excuse me, 

 where was I? Oh, yes; we prospered, and all went well 

 until our eldest boy was killed in the Mexican war and 

 our daughter was burned to death in a fire that destroyed 

 my business a year later, and with my wife and only boy 

 I left New York for this place in 1848. In a railroad 

 accident my wife was killed and injuries about my head 

 hurt my eyes, so that it was uphill work to make a liv- 

 ing until my boy William helped out by singing in the 

 church choir. Now that I am nearly blind he is my sole 

 support. You've heard his wonderful tenor voice in 



