John Phelps on sesquicentennial
commemorative metal, 1986
John Phelps about 1873
NARRATION OF JOHN PHELPS
This
narrative has been saved in many forms by people for the one hundred and forty-seven
years since John Phelps death.
His
daughter, Sarah Johnston, took down his words, and her son T.O. Johnston
summarized them in the obituary number of his paper, The Ogle County Reporter,
April,1874. Some people have typed
copies of this summary for the Oregon, Illinois, Library, and the Wisconsin
State Historical Society. Wesley
Johnston took a written copy of the first section and changed wording and added
to it for the famous historian, Lyman C. Draper, of the Wisconsin State
Historical Society. Copies of the
original narration, dictated to his daughter, Sarah Phelps Johnston, were made
by hand by the family and copies were made from those copies. A great-grandson, John Phelps “Don” Fridley,
was an attorney and he had a typewritten copy made by his secretary. She corrected and modernized the punctuation
and some of the words, leaving the more important things alone. The following copy of the narration was made
by comparison of the written copy from the Wisconsin State Historical Society
and the typed copy, with the original wording and punctuation retained as much
as possible. Quotations were added by
me to add interesting insights into the times.
Ashford Wood, a great-grandson of John Phelps, published the narration
in a book, 1967, published by Wood Press.
Gordon Merritt, May 28, 2021.
Captain
John "Jack" Phelps. In fiction
he was treated like this:
A stalwart, bearded,
brown-eyed man of Hamilton's years marched toward us from the shabby tent.
"This is Jack
Phelps. My friend...and I hope
yours," the surveyor explained...
He had a grip, that stalwart
man, and looked me through and through.
"I've notched my trees on Liberty Hill," he snapped. "I fought in the war of 1812, and in the
Black Hawk campaign of 1831, before you entered service. I've traveled south to New Orleans and north
to Galena. I floated down the Pecatonica
and Rock until I found this place, the choicest on the river. I hope we'll get along." he said it is a way that suggested he would
welcome war as readily as peace.
(May, Earl Chapin, The
Prairie Pirates, Publ.:
Duffield and Green, NY, NY. Circa
1932.
pg.197).
Statue
of John Phelps and Stephen A St. Cyr, coming to the site of Oregon, Illinois,
1834. It was placed in 2015 in Phelps
Park next to the Coliseum in Oregon.
This
probably comes close in some ways to showing the first impression someone might
have of him. He had very strong friends and very strong enemies.
Also,
he was well known in Illinois, and his location was noted as "Phelps"
on an 1837 map of major roads and towns of Illinois.
At
the present time Mr. Phelps is remembered by a Phelps Street in Oregon. There is a John Phelps park, next to the
Coliseum in downtown Oregon. His old
double cabin lasted over 100 years, and was replaced with a replica by the farm
owner, Mr.Marvin Buhs (pronounced Bush) in 1976.
Home of John Phelps on his farm three miles from Oregon. Smokehouse is to the left.
Three
hundred feet to the west Phelps built his Gothic brick home, from bricks made
on his farm. It had walnut window
sashes. His Gothic brick home burned in
l932, but his brick smoke house on the left remains. The smoke house was moved in October 2018 to
Phelps Park in Oregon next to the Coliseum.
Some of the trees that he planted remain.
He
had for namesakes: a grandson, by his son James, John Nathaniel Phelps, who
only lived one month in 1872; he had a great-grandson John "Don"
Phelps Fridley, born 1870; and great-grandson John Phelps Johnston, born 1873.
The l986 the bronze commemorative medal for the Oregon Sesquicentennial had his
face and name on it as "founder". His autobiographical narrative is
usually quoted or summarized in the various Oregon and Ogle County history
books, such as "The Story of Oregon, Illinois Semicentennial
1836-1986", publ. by a Committee in Oregon, Ill., l988. And he and his wife had at least 123
descendants, by 1983, in seven generations, since March,1817, when his wife
Sarah Rogan Carlin Phelps gave birth to their first child, Sarah.
**********
Records of An
Ogle County Pioneer
One
of the earliest settlers in Ogle County was John Phelps. The earliest history of Oregon and much of
the history of Ogle County is interwoven about the eventful career of this
man. It is a fascinating sketch. [John Phelps Fridley].
NARRATIVE OF JOHN PHELPS
This
brief sketch and history of events that I have passed through from my earliest
days to the present time, is to be left as a record to my family and relatives
who may follow after me. As my life has
been a somewhat eventful one, my history may be of interest to my relatives and
friends when I have passed away. I,
therefore, shall endeavor to give a brief and correct account of my travels,
acts, and doings as I passed through the various vicissitudes and difficulties
along the journey of life.
I
was born in Bedford County, Virginia, on the 8th day of August, A.D. 1796. I spent my juvenile days there, which were
the happiest of my existence. By then I
was eight years old. I was put to work
on the farm and kept in constant employment except the winter months. I then went to school. It was the early training to habits of
industry and labor that gave me a vigorous constitution which has served me in
the most trying hardships which I have been forced to encounter through
life. It may not be improper to say that
I was taught by my parents never to do anything that I was ashamed of, to hold
my honor above price or temptation.
Their early instruction has been of great advantage to me. It grew with my growth and strength, it
became so interwoven with my nature that to do a thing I was taught not to do;
or, in other words, that was wrong, left a deep impression on me, and often a
source of many unhappy hours to show the great necessity of proper training of
youth that when he gets old, he will not depart from it. It will become part and parcel of his nature
and stand as a beacon light to steer to, will guide him from the shoals,
breakers and quick sands which lay in the way through the journey of life.
I
will here recite a circumstance that happened when I was quite a small
boy. I had been fishing in a little
creek. On my return home I passed
through a tobacco field of one of our neighbors where there was a large
quantity of watermelons. As I passed
along, I kept thumping the melons to see if they were ripe. The temptation was
too great, and I came to the conclusion that I would take one and go into the
woods and eat it; accordingly, I plucked one off and started for the thicket to
eat it. Now comes in the force of proper training. I felt I was doing wrong, in
fact that I was stealing; the remorse of conscience that I felt from the
departure of principles which I had been taught overpowered me. I could not, I would not steal the melon; it
would do no good to throw it away. So, I
concluded I would bust it open on a stump and eat it in the open 
field. This being done, I determined to go to the
neighbor's house and tell him what I had done.
On my arrival at the neighbor's house, I approached him with a heavy
heart and addressed him in these words: "Mr. Terry, I was passing through
your tobacco grounds, pulled one of your watermelons and ate it." His reply was: "My little man, you are
welcome to it; you can go there whenever you want them, so that you don't waste
them." It can be better imagined than
I can describe my feelings of gratitude for those kind and benevolent
words. It dispersed the doubt and gloom
that overshadowed me. I tripped off home
with a light and cheerful heart, determined never to place myself in such a
position again.
I
give this little narrative to show how important it is to train up children in
the way they should go. I am well aware
that parents have a sympathy for their children and in some cases indulge them
too much, to their detriment and injury.
If you would have them respected, teach them to be respectful to
others. It will always be reciprocal.
In
the fall of 1810, my father moved to Middle Tennessee. I was then entering my fifteenth year. He settled in Wilson County and commenced
opening a farm in a heavy timbered country.
There was little transpiring, worth noting, for the first two or three
years, as it was quite a new settled place.
All our energies were turned to improving the farm, building a residence
and out-buildings.
[The place is called Tuckers
Corners now. It is on the modern maps
near Jennings Fork of Round Lick Creek on the east edge of Wilson County,
Tennessee. Others who lived there were
William Phillips, James Bradshaw, several Bradleys, Matthew Cartwright, William
Palmer, James Edwards, Parks Goodall, Hobbs, James Hobbs, Thomas Harlin, John
Phillips, Benjamin Phillips, James Taylor, William Sweat, Shelah Waters, and
David Young. Terrilyn Phillips Litvan,
1215 Fairbanks Drive, Carmel, IN 46032 is researching these families].
The
Wilson County Court copy of the deed of sale for Richard Phelps land. From Deed Books C-M, Book E, page 428-429:
September 23, 1811:
This
Indenture Made and intered (sic) into this 23rd day of September in the year of
Our Lord One Thousand Eight Hundred & Eleven between Wm. I. [or J] Walker
& Wilmuth his wife of the County of Bedford & State of Virginia of the
one part & Richard Phelps of the County of Wilson & State of Tenessee
(sic) the other part Witnesseth that the said W.I. Walker & Wilmuth his
wife for and in Consideration of the Sum of Six Hundred Dollars [$12,000 value
in 2021]to them in hand paid the Rect. of which is hereby Acknowledged hath
given granted and Bargained sold aliened Conveyed & Confined unto the said
Rich. Phelps his Heirs & assigns forever, a Certain Tract of Parcel of
Land, situate (sic) lying and being in the County of Wilson containing Three
Hundred & twenty Acres lying on the waters of Round Lick Creek on the east
side of Jenning's Fork being a branch of Round Lick Creek at the West ind (sic)
of a Tract of Six Hundred & forty acres granted to Betsy Barrow it being
the Land deeded to said Walker by Willie Barrow, Beginning at a Sugar tree, and
Running South Two Hundred and twenty six poles to Hence East Two hundred & twenty
six poles to a Lynn thence a direct Cource (sic) to the Beginning to have and
to hold the aforesaid Land with all the rights, Profits, involuments (sic) and
appurtenance of in and to the same belonging, or in any win appertaining, to
the only proper use and behoof (sic) of the said Phelps his Heirs & assigns
forever and the said W.I. Walker & Wilmuth his Wife for themselves their Heirs, executors & administrators, do
covenant & agree to and with the said Richard Phelps his heirs &
assigns that the before Recited Land & premised, doth Will Warrant and
defend as far as Three Hundred & twenty Acres against the right title
Interest or Claim of all & every Person whatsoever but is expressly
understood & agried (sic) between the parties that if any mistake has taken
place in measuring Said Lines that said Phelps has no Claim to any More than
said three Hundred & Twenty Acres in Witness whereof said Walker &
Wilmuth his Wife hath hereunder set their hand, & affixed their seals the
day & year above written.
Signed Seal'd
& c in presence of
his
William X
Woodcock
mark
her
Elizabeth X
Woodcock W.I.Walker LS
mark
her
Polly X Woodcock
mark
At a court held
for Bedford County [Virginia] at the courthouse the 23 day of September 1811
This Identure (sic) of bargain & Sale between William I. Walker and Wilmuth
his wife of the one part and Richard Phelps of the other- was Acknowledged by
the said William I. Walker & [repeating the body of the Indenture filed in
Wilson County].
Thus,
armed with a recommendation and a few dollars [$59 value in 2021] handed to me
by my mother, I set out on a delusive journey, on foot, with my knapsack on my
back; bound for the Saline Salt Works, in the Territory of Illinois. I had before me a distance of two hundred
miles through mud and mire, in the winter.
I did not mind the fatigue and hardship so much as the idea of carrying
a knapsack on my back. I had always
looked upon one traveling in that condition as a low, degraded fellow. I, therefore, endeavored to shun every house
on the road, that I possibly could.
I
arrived at the Ohio River on Saturday night, crossed next morning, and
proceeded on my way, arriving at the Saline Lick in the evening, a distance of
twenty-five miles, tired and hungry. My first object was to find a tavern to
stay at until I could get employment.
But this proved fruitless. There
was no tavern kept there. I roamed
about, hunting a place, in a rather disconsolate mood. I began to realize the
forlorn, unpleasant condition that I had placed myself in, against the urgent
appeal and advice of my parents and friends.
It
was growing late, and I had visited most of the road huts, without the least
prospect of getting shelter for the night or even a bite to eat. I saw at a distance what seemed to be a
comfortable building, and I resolved to go and try my luck there. On arriving at the house, the gentleman
appeared at the gate and asked me what I wished. I told him I was hunting work and wished to
know if he knew where I could get employment.
At the same time, I took out my letter of recommendation and handed it
to him. He read it, then said he thought
he could direct me to a place where I could get a situation. He then invited me into his house, saying
that supper was about ready. I accepted
his kind offer; this was the first I had eaten since morning. After supper I asked him where I could get a
place to stay all night. He said I could
stay with him. This kind treatment was
thankfully received, and it had a tendency to cheer up my drooping
spirits.
I
arose early in the morning and set out for the furnace. I was directed to travel along a line of
pipes which conducted the salt water to the furnace, a distance of three
miles. On my arrival I soon made an
engagement to work at $20.00 per month [$391 in 2021 value]. I told my employer that I had not any
breakfast. He replied that he had eaten
breakfast, but I should go to the cabin and get mine; that I would find meat,
meal, and cooking utensils. On entering
the cabin, to my great surprise I found nothing, but a dirt floor all covered
with ashes and straw. The cooking
utensils consisted of a frying pan and a broken pot. Hanging on the wall was a side of bacon, and
in one corner of the room was a barrel of corn meal. I set to work, cleaned the frying pan, and
fried some bacon. I made some dough or
batter and fried it in the grease that came out of the bacon. I ate breakfast and went to work. The bedding consisted of bunks fixed up
against the wall. Their beds were straw;
the covering a few old dirty blankets.
I
began to repent of my foolish and unfortunate enterprise. I remained in this most uncomfortable situation
for about one month, often reflecting on the pleasures of home and undergoing
the greatest privations and hardships that I ever experienced. The hands were all the roughest and the very
dregs of creation. About this time, I
had a difficulty with one of the hands, one of my employers taking sides with
him, the other with myself. I then
determined to leave them and return home.
I called on them for my wages, but they had no money and they could not
nor would not pay me. I think they gave
me a dollar or so. I had spent all the
money my mother gave me, but the want of means did not stop me. So, I set out on my journey, depending on the
hospitality of those I had stopped with on my outward trip. In this I succeeded, as I was treated well on
the road and reached home in ten or twelve days. I was kindly received, with a firm conviction
that home was the best place for foolish, inexperienced boys.
This
was the first experience of my life and it proved to be a complete
failure. It taught me a lesson never to
be forgotten. It was one of the errors
of my life and I often looked upon it with profound regret, having caused a
kind mother so many sorrowful tears and sleepless nights. Thus ended my experience of 1812. [Thus, John Phelps resided in Illinois before
Statehood in 1818 and this qualified him to get Prairie Pioneer status from the
Illinois Genealogical Society in 1982]. See illustration attached.
The
next year I remained at home and worked on the farm. War had been declared against Great Britain;
also, troops were called for against the Creek Indians. This created in me a great desire to go into
the Army. Under the excitement, I again
became restless and could think of nothing else but the glory and fame I would
acquire in the service of my country; but the opposition I met with from my
father and mother prevented me from carrying our my most ardent wishes. They insisted that I was too young, that it
might be a protracted war and that I would have sufficient time to display my
gallantry when I had arrived at the proper age.
I
had now entered into my seventeenth year.
Under this suspension of my wishes, weeks seemed months and months
seemed years. The wheels of time were
not fast enough. I longed to be a
man.
The
eighth day of the ensuing August, I became eighteen years of age. I looked upon it as the brightest epoch of my
existence. I was then untrammeled and
could act at my pleasure with regard to serving my country. In September there was a call for volunteers
to go to Florida. I immediately went to
town [Lebanon] and enrolled myself as a volunteer [for the army of General
Andrew Jackson, in General John Coffee's Brigade, Tennessee Mounted Volunteer
Gun-men for a 6-month enlistment]. My
oldest brother [Henry] was going to school about thirty miles from home. I wrote to him what I had done and invited
him to come and go into service with me.
He came and entered with me. A
few days were spent in preparation.
[September
28, 1814] All things being in readiness, we set out on the line of march. During our preparation at home my father
insisted that one of us should stay at home and take care of the farm and let
him fill the place. We both
refused. When the day arrived, on which
we were to start, he went with us on one day's march. Before leaving us, he still insisted that one
of us should return home and fill his place.
We again refused and wished to know why he was so anxious to go in the
army. His reply was that he knew we were
both young and inexperienced, that our courage might fail in the hour of need
or danger, that if either of us was by his side he knew we would fight, but
without his example he did not know the result.
I told him I was sorry that he thought he had raised a son that was less
brave than himself, and that we were determined to fill our places. He then said: "well boys, I must bid you
farewell, and I trust you both will behave like brave men; if so, I shall be
proud to see you return, but if either of you are shot in the back never show
your face to me again." Those words
left a deep impression on me and will ever be remembered.
We
soon set out on our march again and arrived at Fayetteville in five or six days
[October 2, l8l4]. There we encamped for
two or three weeks, waiting for troops from other counties and making other
preparations. This being accomplished,
we received marching orders with the intention of crossing the Tennessee River
at Mussel Shoals. The day before we
reached the point, encamped about dark.
I went out to cut some wood with my hatchet and, unfortunately, made a
mis-lick and struck it into my knee. On
examination, it was found that it would be impossible to do service for some
time to come, if ever. I, therefore, was
sent home. This was a source of deep
mortification to me. All my lively
anticipations were again blasted. I was
doomed to dull monotony on the farm. On
my arrival at home, I was unable to walk; my knee was badly swollen and gave me
much pain, but, with good care, it began to mend in a couple of weeks. [He
walked with a limp for the rest of his life; when he fought, he rode a horse if
movement was needed]. I then began to have some hopes of reaching the army
again. These reflections gave me much
pleasure and cheered me up. In about one
week more I was able to mount my horse without help. Hearing that one of our company had returned
in consequence of sickness and had regained his health, I went to see him and
made arrangements to return to the army.
This being done, we prepared for the long and perilous journey before
us, most of which was through the Indian country -- a distance of from four to
five hundred miles.
We
set out again on this almost forlorn-hope expedition. After three days travel, we were in Indian
Territory -- both unacquainted with Indians.
They looked like demons to us. My
traveling friend said he wished he had never started. We crossed the Tennessee River in six or
seven days after leaving home. Nearby
the road forks and we took the left-hand trail, which led to Mobile and
Pensacola. The weather was rainy --
waters high -- which impeded our progress very much. There was no alternative but to swim the
creek -- no bridges on the road. This,
together with the fear of Indians, gave my companion much trouble and he
insisted that we should return home. I
told him that I would not; I would reach the army or die on the way. He had gone too far in the Indian country to
think of returning alone; so he was forced, through necessity, to keep along
with me. Many difficulties lay in our
way; rain continued. Our progress was slow.
On
arriving at a creek that was very much swollen, we held council -- should we
wait or swim it? I concluded to swim,
sitting on my horse. I had a wallet of
biscuit tied to my saddle which I took off, put it across my shoulder and rode
in, and was soon safely landed on the other side. I urged him to follow. He refused, saying he would go up the creek
to see if he could find a log on which to cross, where he could drive his horse
over. I started on but had not gone far
before I met four or five soldiers who said they had served out their time and
were on their way home.
I
traveled slowly but my companion did not overtake me. I stopped and waited for him. Still, he did not come. I at length concluded he had returned with
the soldiers. My opinions proved to be
too true. It was the last I ever saw of
him. But this was not the worst. His leaving was no small matter, as he
carried all the meat with him, leaving me nothing but bread to subsist
upon.
In
this forlorn condition I continued to press on, as fast as circumstances would
permit, suffering from hunger, wet, and cold, and laying every night on the
cold, wet ground or in some canebrake, or reedy swamp, where I could gather
feed for my horse. Sometimes I had the
good luck to kill a wild turkey. Then I
would dress and roast it and have fine living for a few days.
I
still proceeded onward, suffering much.
I arrived at a large stream one evening; it had been raining all day;
and was wet and cold. I saw an Indian
hut on the opposite bank, which was unoccupied.
The River was very high, out of its banks, and from thirty to forty
yards wide. There was no mode to cross
but by swimming it on horse. He had
taken me across so many streams that I felt little doubt. I took off my overcoat and laid it on the
saddle, and again mounted. I had some
distance to swim in back water, through which the horse carried me with great
ease; but as soon as he reached the current, he began to fail and soon
sank. I was washed off, one foot hanging
in the stirrup. I finally got loose from
the horse. I was encumbered with a heavy
rifle in one hand and had to swim with the other. I exerted myself until I became exhausted and
sank, as I thought to rise no more. I
shall never forget my thoughts while under water; that this was the last of me
and that my friends would never know what had become of me.
During
this time, I rested and made a desperate attempt to rise, and succeeded. I came up just above a long birch limb which
the high water had reached. The current
would bear the limb downstream a certain distance, then break loose and fly
back. I caught it on its return and hung
to it until rested sufficiently to make the shore on the same side that I went
in. My horse swam across with my saddle
bags hanging by the strap to one of the stirrups, and as he raised to the bank
the strap broke, and the saddle bags seemed to lay on the edge of the water. In the meantime, my overcoat had floated off.
I could see it down the stream, and was
anxious to secure it, so I ran down to see if I could recover it. Before I could reach the place, it
disappeared, and I never got it. I came
back and sat down on the bank of the river with feelings of mingled pleasure
and pain. I felt happy and thankful that
I had escaped such a premature and untimely death. I felt that my sufferings were almost
insupportable.
During
these reflections, I heard a bustle and noise behind me. I looked around and saw a dozen or more
Indian’s squaws coming toward me. They
came nearer and seemed to pity my condition.
I was trembling with cold and shaking as if I had the ague. One of them said something to a little Negro
boy that was with them. He ran off and
soon returned with a wooden dish filled with boiled potatoes. I was hungry and cold, and did ample justice
to their hospitality.
Whilst
we were on that bank there came up another squad of discharged soldiers. I called across and asked them if they would
do me a favor -- and take my saddle bags, which seemed almost in the water, and
save them for me until I could cross in the morning, also tie up my horse and
give him some cane to eat. They said it
should be done. I then went with the
squaws and stayed all night in their wigwam.
In the morning, the Indians procured a canoe and sent me across, but
before I reached the place the soldiers were gone. All the money I had in the saddlebags in a
pocket of my pantaloons, with a string tied around it. On my arrival at the cabin, I found my horse
well cared for, all my wet clothing taken out and dried and, to my great
satisfaction, found all my money.
I
was soon on my way again. In three or
four days I came to a very comfortable Indian house. It being nearly dark, I concluded I would try
to get lodgings for the night. There was
a young Indian man standing in the yard.
I spoke to him. He replied in
English: "How do you do". I
asked him if I could stay all night with him.
He answered: "yes, sir, alight". My horse was taken and put in a stable and
fed, and supper prepared for me. After
supper we sat around a good comfortable fire.
In our conversation I found him to be a well-educated man and conversant
on all subjects, and, to gather information of the roads I had to travel, he
inquired where I was going. I told him I
belonged to Gen. Jackson's Army; had been crippled and left behind and was then
trying to join them at Pensacola. He
said the army had left Pensacola and moved on to the Mississippi that he had
then in the house a newspaper which reported their departure from Pensacola,
which he showed me. I inquired of him my
best route to reach them. He said travel
west until I struck the Natchez trail and that would lead nearer to where the
army was. I asked if there were any
roads that would intersect that road. He
said, No, that I would have to steer my course due west and that I would strike
it in about one hundred miles; that there would be no obstacles in my way, no
streams to cross, of any note. I told
him that if the day was cloudy, I could not tell whether I was going north,
south, east, or west. He said I could
know the course by observing the timber; to bear in mind that the moss grew up
higher and thicker on the north side of the trees, and to keep across that and
it would lead me west.
Being
fully satisfied with his theory, I again set out and reached the Natchez trail
in three days, without much difficulty -- with the exception of hunger, as I
had had scarcely anything to eat on the trip.
The
Indian above alluded to was John Peachlyner [Pitchlynn}, one of the chiefs of
the Choctaw Nation. He was educated in
Nashville and knew many persons with whose names I was familiar.
[John Pitchlynn was
born in the southern British colonies, son of Isaac, a Scots immigrant, and his
wife, who died young. After his father also died, Pitchlynn was raised by
the Choctaw
people, with whom his father had worked as a trader. He was fluent in
Choctaw and English.
Under George Washington, he was appointed as an interpreter and
head of the Choctaw Agency. He continued to serve under President Andrew
Jackson.
Pitchlynn married twice. About 1780 he married Rhoda Folsom, an
Anglo-American. Due to his work, they lived within the Choctaw Nation.[1] He later married Sophia Folsom, a mixed-race Choctaw of partly Anglo-American
descent. Her father was Ebenezer Folsom, and her mother Natika was
Choctaw. Sophia's Choctaw name was Lk-lo-ha-wah (loved but
lost). The couple married in 1804. The Choctaw had a matrilineal kinship system, so their children were
considered born to Natika's clan and were raised in Choctaw culture.[2]
Pitchlynn had ten children. The most notable of these was their
son Peter
Pitchlynn, who in 1864 became
principal chief of the Choctaw Nation of Oklahoma. This was decades after their removal from
the Southeast under the 1831 Treaty of Dancing
Rabbit Creek. The senior Pitchlynn
had ensured that his son Peter was educated in Anglo-American classical
tradition, as well as in Choctaw culture.
References
1. ^ "RootsWeb:
CHOCTAW-L [CHOCTAW] Pitchlynn Genealogy". archiver.rootsweb.ancestry.com.
Retrieved 2017-12-12.
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