The Massacre of the Sluss Family

Interesting Paper Tells of Massacre Which Occurred at Sharon Springs, in
1774.

Through the courtesy of our townsman, Mr. R. P. Johnson we are able to give
the readers of the Southwest Virginia Enterprise, an interesting article,
written by Mr. S. H. Williams, of Lynchburg, one of the descendants, on the
massacre of the Sluss family.
  
According to the tradition a number of the Sluss family were members of the
St. Paul's Lutheran Church on the Lee Highway west of Wytheville and they
would walk from Ceres for the 11 o'clock sermon and back home that afternoon.
 The women of the family would accompany the men when they attended service,
making the trip across the mountains on foot.

The massacre of the Sluss family occured at Sharon Springs in what was then
Fincastle County (now Bland) near the present village of Ceres, Virginia,
August 2, 1774, the year of the Indian uprising known as "Lord Dunmore's War"
and just two months prior to the famous battle of Point Pleasant.

It was common knowledge among the settlers of this section of Southwest
Virginia that Indians, particulary the Cherokees and Shawnees, had been on
the war path since early spring and were commiting depredations along the
Ohio and Kanawha rivers and that scattered bands were gradually making their
way up New River and across the Alleghany mountains toward the fertile valley
where game was to be found in abundance, massacreing all with whom they came
in contact.

Warning of the close proximity of marauding savages had repeatedly sent the
pioneers scurrying with their families to the protection of a block house
fort surrounded by dugouts or frifle pits, (constructed by them for just such
an emergency) only to learn after days of self imprisonment that the rumors
were without foundation, when they would return cautiously to their homes.

Like the story of the shepherd and the wolf, these false rumors had caused
so much inconvenience and waste of time that crops in the valley were getting
little or no attention, yet time after time, in response to repeated warnings
they retreated within the walls of the block house to defend themselves
against red skins that never put in an appearance.

Late in July 1774, rumors were rife that Elinipsico, son of the famous
Shawnee Chieftain, Cornstalk, with a party of fifty or sixty braves were
infesting the neighborhood and that a family in Giles County by the name of
Lybrook had been massacred by them.  Jared Sluss, the pioneer, believing this
to be another wild rumor and loath to lose the remainder of his crop, decided
to remain at home while keeping a vigilant watch for any indication of the
presence of Indians in the vicinity, thinking he would then have time to seek
refuge within the fort.  Never permitting himself to get beyond sight of his
house for four days and satisfied that the Indians were nowhere about, on the
fifth day he and  his eldest son, James, a lad twelve years of age, proceeded
to work in a field just over the brow of a hill and out of sight of home.

Two of his daughters being away from home at the time (one of them afterward
married a Mr. Groseclose and the other a Mr. Sharitz) he left three of his
children, Marion aged seven, Hazel tenn, and Laura aged four, playing in the
bright sunshine of a perfect summer morning, their laughter ringing in his
ears as he passed out of sight.  They had been cautioned to go no farther
away than the "spring" a short distance from the house and to keep a sharp
lookout Indians.  Christine, the mother, after rocking her six-months old
baby, Mary, to sleep, had placed her tenderly in a cradle and shoved it under
a high bed in a corner of one of the rooms to keep the flies from annoying
her while she slept, little knowing that this act would save the child from a
horrible death.

Unaware that savages lurking in the underbrush a short distance away had
their beady eyes upon them, the children continued innocently at their play.

The mother was busy with her housework and the first intimation she had of
danger was a terrified scream from one of the children closely followed by
others from the trio.  Looking through a partly opened door she beheld a
sight against which she had for years vainly tried to steel herself.  A party
of Indians had stealthily worked themselves between the children and the
house and before any one was aware of their presence had out off all avenue
of escape within doors, forcing them to fly for their lives in the direction
their father and brother had gone earlier in the day.  A rail fence some
fifty yards distant obstructed their way.  Laura was almost immediately
overtaken and her brains dashed out with a war club.  Hazel managed to climb
over the fence and was well on her way to safety when glancing back she
discovered that her seven year old brother, Marion, would certainly be caught
before he could get over unless some one went to his assistance.  Without
further thought of trying to save herself she darted back and bracing herself
against the top rail, reached over and lifted him across, shielding his body
with her own as best she could while they ran.  But for this heroic act, she
paid with her life.

The twang of a powerful bow-string drawn its full length and released from
the grip of a Herculean savage and an arrow sped through to its mark piercing
her frail body through and through while the impact caused its shaft to
quiver for seconds in her lifeless form after she had fallen.

The sudden appearance over the brow of the hill of father and son just at
this time who, greatly alarmed by the screams they had heard were on a dead
run for home, was a moment too late to save this little heroine but did have
the effect; however, of momentarily halting the pursuers; thereby, enabling
the boy to make his escape.

Meeting his father and brother he was told by them to hurry to the fort for
help and that was the last time he saw them alive.  Arriving at the fort
bruised and bleeding, the little fellow through his tears implored those
within to hurry to the rescue.  After some deliberation, a party sallied
forth and reached the scene of the massacre without sighting the enemy.  The
scene they beheld was long to be remembered.  James, though a  lad of tender
years, ahd fought and died valiantly by his father's side.  The habit of the
Indians to invariably carry off their dead and wounded made it impossible to
estimate the extent to which they inflicted casualies upon their adversaries,
but the condition of their bodies, the ground about them and scattered pools
of blood was mute evidence they had sold their lives dearly in defense of
their loved ones.  Both had been scalped.  The body of the girl lay just over
the fence, her scalp missing and arrow still in the wound.  The mother was
found just outside the kitchen door, her body hacked to pieces by tomahawks,
her scalp torn away, her forearm broken and bearing other evidences of a
terrible struggle, but still alive.  She afterward regained consciousness and
was able to relate some of the terrible details of the tragedy, but was
unequal to the heart rendering struggle for life and after three days of
indescribable suffering with her torn and mutilated form, the light from
Heaven streamed down through the gathering mists of death and her soul was
wafted into that world of blessedness where the great riddle of life, the
meaning of which we can only guess at here below, was unfolded to her in the
quick consciousness of a liberal reward.

While their victims were being buried the people grouped around their graves
could plainly hear the war whoops, howls and jeers of the Indians who had
appeared on a ridge in the distance in full view dancing in glee and defying
the settlers to pursue them for their deed.  Of three of the survivors the
writer has been able to learn no more than has been mentioned in a previous
paragraph, but Mary, the six-months old babe who was found in her cradle
under the high bed in the corner where loving hands had tenderly placed her,
somewhat fretful at having been so rudely awakened but otherwise unharmed,
under the care of a friendly neighbor grew to womanhood and married Nathaniel
Cregar.  A daughter of this union, Mahala, married Abraham Goodman.  Another
daughter, Delilah, married John Moore who for years drove a stagecoach
between Christiansburg and White Sulphur Springs, having many hair raising
experiences.  He was member of the Moore family of Abbs valley, most of whom
were massacred or taken captive by the Indians some ten years after the
tragedy which practically wiped out the Sluss family.  John Moore's brother,
married Maria Zimmerman and lived at Wytheville, Virginia, for several years.

John and Delilah Moore's daughter, Emzy Ann, married Creed Shelton and a
daughter of that union, Mary Jane, married Robert P. Williams of Thompson's
Valley, Virginia, who died in 1890.  In the year following his death, she
married John M. Yost of Richlands, Virginia, and became an ardent and
powerful worker in the cause of the Women's Christian  Temperance Union in
its early struggles against the liquor traffic.  Upon the death of her second
husband she moved to Lynchburg, Virginia, to reside with a son of her first
marriage, S. H. Williams, where she died May 14, 1928, at the age of 62.

Just before her death she willed to her son a spinning whell given her by
Mary Sluss and which was in the Sluss home at the time of the massacre.  Two
daughters of her second marriage, Mrs. E.A. DeJarnette of South Boston,
Virginia, and Mrs. Ro Nero of Jacksonville, Florida, survive her.

Mary Sluss (Cregar) died in 1878, having attained the ripe old age of 104.

The mother of the writer was twelve years of age at that time and the story
of the massacre of the Sluss family was related to her in detail by Mary
Sluss (who was the babe in the cradle) and she in turn related it to me as
has been sent forth in this article.  The exact spot where the Sluss home
stood can be located on a farm owned by a Mr. Elbert Crabtree and known as
the old Crabtree place not far west of the North and South Highway near a
stiff curve which leaves the valley to approach Walker mountain.  The graves
of the victims are in an old cemetery near Ceres.  The fort itself was only
torn away about forty years ago.

S.H. Williams
1106 Federal St.
Lynchburg, Va.
July 11, 1928