The day after the battle of Stoney Creek, my brother John and myself went and viewed the battle field, and were horrified at seeing the dead strewed over every part of the ground. Some of the bodies were greatly mangled with cannon balls; such are the horrors of war.
In the year 1816, my father sent me to an English School in the Township of Saltfleet. Our teacher was an Irishman of the name of George Hughes, and was an excellent master for young beginners. He took great pains to improve my English, which then was very imperfect: indeed, I could only understand a few simple words. He also taught the Church of England Catechism, and made us read in the New Testament, but the words I read had no effect upon my heart, because I did not understand the great plan of human salvation. I attended this school about nine months, during which time I was taught to read, write, and cypher.
Shortly after this we removed from the head of the Lake to the Grand River, and settled amongst the Mohawk Indians. These people were professedly members of the Church of England, and had an old Church, the oldest in the Province, in their village, where a number assembled every Sabbath to hear the prayers read by one of their Chiefs, named Henry Aaron Hill, who died of cholera in 1834. They were also visited occasionally by Ministers of the Church of England. I regret to state that the gospel preached among them seemed to have little or no effect upon their moral conduct. In this respect they were no better than their pagan brethren. Drunkenness, quarreling, fighting, were the prevailing vices of the Six Nations of Indians. They were also much given to fiddling and dancing. In all these things I believe the Mohawks excelled the other tribes. Being young and volatile, I was soon led to join with them, and became very fond of dancing after the manner of the white people. My father
