The Mifflin County Insurrection of 1791: A Fight for Justice

A Crisis in Post-Revolutionary Pennsylvania

In September 1791, the quiet town of Lewistown, Pennsylvania, was thrown into turmoil when an armed mob stormed the courthouse, intent on forcibly removing Judge Samuel Bryson from the bench. The attack was fueled by resentment, personal ambition, and a dangerous disregard for the rule of law.

As the situation spiraled out of control, the arrival of Colonel Daniel McFarland and his militia turned the tide, restoring order and ensuring that justice prevailed. The events of the Mifflin County Insurrection would become a significant chapter in Pennsylvania’s early history, illustrating the challenges of maintaining law and order in a rapidly changing nation.

A Conspiracy Against the Courts

The trouble began when Samuel Bryson was appointed second associate judge of the Mifflin County Court of Common Pleas. His previous role as Lieutenant Colonel of the militia had placed him in a position to influence officer promotions, and his opposition to commissioning William Wilson and David Walker as militia colonels led to their deep resentment.

Determined to remove Bryson by force, Wilson and Walker gathered a force of 40 armed men and marched into Lewistown with a fife playing, their intentions clear: seize the judge from the courthouse, force his resignation, and exile him to the rugged terrain along the Juniata River.

The Riot Breaks Out

As the mob arrived at the courthouse, Judge Bryson quickly folded his robe and retreated to an adjoining chamber, avoiding immediate capture. Meanwhile, Judge Story, another magistrate who had learned of the planned attack, attempted to sound the alarm but was intercepted and forcibly detained by the rioters.

The situation escalated as Wilson and Walker’s men stormed the courthouse, overpowering court officers and seizing Judge Bryson. It seemed as though the mob’s plan would succeed—until the next day, when the tables turned.

Col. Daniel McFarland & The Militia Response

On the day following the riot, Colonel Daniel McFarland arrived in Lewistown with the local militia, prepared to confront the insurrectionists. He delivered a strong address condemning the riot and declared that his forces would defend the judiciary at any cost. His firm stance immediately changed the course of events.

The rioters, sensing their impending defeat, began to waver. Their courage quickly faded in the face of McFarland’s unwavering force. Wilson and Walker, once emboldened, now found themselves isolated as their support crumbled. In a matter of hours, the insurrection collapsed. The court reconvened, and the judges issued a formal statement thanking McFarland and his militia for their swift action, acknowledging their role in upholding the integrity of the judiciary.

But tensions in Lewistown had not fully settled. That evening, another group of armed men attempted to storm the local prison to free the sheriff, who had been detained earlier in the day. Rumors spread that reinforcements from Tuscarora Valley were on their way, threatening to escalate the violence. Fortunately, before another confrontation could break out, news arrived that the sheriff had already been released, preventing further bloodshed.

The Aftermath of the Riot

The Mifflin County Insurrection was a stark warning about the dangers of lawlessness and unchecked ambition. Had it not been for the decisive action of Colonel McFarland and his forces, the attack on Judge Bryson could have set a dangerous precedent for Pennsylvania’s courts.

McFarland’s swift intervention ensured that justice remained intact and that those who sought to overthrow the courts by force did not succeed. His efforts not only ended the immediate crisis but also served as a reminder that the rule of law must be protected, even in the face of violent opposition.

Postscript: Identifying Colonel McFarland

The Colonel McFarland who played a key role in restoring order in Mifflin County was most likely Colonel Daniel McFarland of Pennsylvania (1731–1817). A seasoned military officer, he had previously served as a Commander of Rangers in Monongalia and Ohio Counties in 1778 and was involved in militia efforts during the Revolutionary War. He also had ties to Washington County, PA, where he helped establish Fort McFarland around 1772.

While there was another Col. Daniel McFarland from Massachusetts, his known activities were centered in New England, making it unlikely that he played a role in the events of Mifflin County. Given the location and military background of the Pennsylvania-based McFarland, it is almost certain that he was the leader who quelled the 1791 riot.

Sources Cited

• The Mifflin County Insurrection, Primary Source Transcription, Freeman’s Journal/North-American Intelligencer, September 28, 1791.
• Col. McFarland’s Role in the Riot, Philadelphia Gazette of the United States, September 28, 1791.
• DAR Application Summary on Daniel McFarland, Nellie Elizabeth Phillips Trotter, Daughters of the American Revolution Archives.
• McFarland’s Military Service & Land Ownership, Daniel McFarland Facts Document.
• Biographical Records of the McFarland Family, Descendants of Daniel McFarland.

Colonel Daniel McFarland: Soldier, Settler, and Defender of the Law

A Legacy of Leadership and Action

My McFarland Ancestry Chart starting with my grandmother

If history teaches us anything, it’s that some people don’t live quiet lives—and Colonel Daniel McFarland was one of them. Whether leading troops into battle, securing land in Pennsylvania’s frontier, or defending the legal system, his life was marked by duty, resilience, and bold action.

From Ulster to the American Frontier

Born in 1723 in Ulster, Ireland, McFarland was part of a Scottish family that had settled in Ireland for about a century before making the transatlantic leap. His uncle, Duncan McFarland, was among the group of Scotch-Irish immigrants who arrived in Boston Harbor on August 4, 1718. Raised in a pioneering atmosphere, Daniel grew up among settlers who would shape the American colonies.

A Man of Principle Who Fought for Independence

Before the American Revolution, McFarland had already gained military experience. He served in the French and Indian War (1756–1767) and later commanded a company of rangers in Monongalia and Ohio Counties from April 22 to July 20, 1778. By 1780, his unit was stationed in Pittsburgh, playing a key role in frontier defense.

Beyond combat, McFarland focused on protecting settlers. Around 1772, he established Fort McFarland* in Amwell Township, Washington County, Pennsylvania, providing a vital refuge during periods of conflict.

Building a Community

McFarland was not only a soldier—he was a settler and landowner. His land acquisitions in Washington County, Pennsylvania, allowed him to contribute to the development of the region. In 1794, he sold land to help establish North Ten Mile Baptist Church, ensuring that faith and community life would flourish for generations.

A Defender of the Law

McFarland was not just a warrior; he also stood for law and order. In 1791, he led a militia force in response to a violent riot in Mifflin County, Pennsylvania, that had threatened the court system. His leadership helped restore peace and uphold judicial authority.

Family, Estate, and Final Years

McFarland married Sarah Barber (1730–1812), and together, they had a large family, including:

• Mary McFarland (b. January 4, 1754)
• Sandy McFarland (b. February 3, 1755)
• William McFarland (b. December 17, 1756, married Hannah Kelsey)
• Sarah McFarland (b. November 19, 1760)
• Dolly McFarland (b. June 16, 1762)
• Daniel McFarland (b. January 4, 1764)
• Abel McFarland (b. July 2, 1765)
• Anna McFarland (b. January 5, 1767)
• James McFarland (b. July 31, 1768, d. July 16, 1769)
• Elizabeth McFarland (b. December 21, 1769, married Rev. William Hicks)

As he aged, McFarland moved to Warren County, Ohio, where he passed away on December 14, 1817, at the age of 87. His estate, valued at $800, was administered by William Houlston and John Benham, while his widow Elizabeth McFarland later relinquished her right to manage it.

His children and heirs were formally identified in a land partition record, ensuring that his legacy lived on through the next generation of McFarlands.

A Life of Courage and Influence

Colonel Daniel McFarland was the real deal—a man who:

✔ Fought in two wars (French & Indian War and the American Revolution).
✔ Commanded rangers and built Fort McFarland to protect settlers.
✔ Helped establish a community church and contributed to local development.
✔ Stood for law and order in a time of political unrest.

Not bad for a Scotch-Irish immigrant who started life on the rugged frontiers of early America.

His story is a fascinating piece of American history, and his impact can still be seen today in the descendants who carry on the McFarland name.

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*Fort McFarland*

Fort McFarland, located in Amwell Township, Washington County, Pennsylvania, was one of two forts built to protect settlers in the region between 1770 and 1790. It was situated on the farm of Peter Garrett and served as a refuge for early pioneers, including those who had legally patented their land after initial squatter settlements. The fort was closely associated with the North Ten mile Baptist Church, which traces its origins back to 1772. Due to frequent conflicts with Native American groups, early churchgoers were often forced to hold their meetings inside Fort McFarland for safety.

Citation: Busch, Clarence M. Report of the Commission to Locate the Site of the Frontier Forts of Pennsylvania, Volume Two: The Frontier Forts of Western Pennsylvania. State Printer of Pennsylvania, 1896, pp. 399-436.

Other Sources:

📜 DAR Application Summary – Military service & family history.
📜 Col. McFarland Documents – Mifflin County Riot, Fort McFarland.
📜 Daniel McFarland Facts – Estate details, burial, land partition.
📜 Daniel McFarland Probate – Estate administration, bond details.
📜 Descendants of Daniel McFarland – Family lineage & migration history.

Everyday Life in Hamilton County, Illinois, Around 1900

A Personal Connection to the Past

Genealogy isn’t just about dates and documents—it’s about people. It’s about stepping into their world, imagining their struggles, and hearing their laughter echo through time. For me, tracing my family’s history has always been more than a research project. It’s personal.

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The source of much of this insight comes from a letter written by Opal Mezo Magill to Bertha White, which was shared with me by Bertha. Both Opal and Bertha are descendants of William C. Mezo and Martha Braden, my great-great-great-grandparents. Opal, writing from her own memories, recalls conversations with her great uncles and great aunts—people who were alive between 1850 and 1900. Their stories paint a vivid picture of daily life in Hamilton County, Illinois, at the turn of the century, from the hard work required to survive to the moments of joy that brought families together.

My great-great-great-grandparents lived in Hamilton County, Illinois, in the late 1800s. William C. Mezo and Martha Braden (mentioned in Opal Mezo Magill’s letter) were tenant farmers, making their living off the land. Their son, Moses Wesley Mezo, my great-great-grandfather, carried on that way of life, raising his daughter Nora Mezo, who in turn became the mother of my grandmother, Bertha Lawson Peterson. Though I never met them, their way of life still feels familiar.

Reading accounts like Opal’s letter is like opening a window to a world where life was slower, harder, and yet filled with the kind of grit and determination that seems almost legendary today.

Handmade Homes and Family Ingenuity

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Imagine a simple log cabin—two rooms, maybe three if they were lucky. The walls, worn smooth by generations of hands, held only the essentials. A cook table, a dish safe, a highboy for clothes, and barrels filled with flour and meal. Space was at a premium, so beds were stacked with trundle beds tucked beneath, ready to be pulled out at night.

The men of the family didn’t just farm; they built. Tables, chairs, and cupboards weren’t bought—they were made. And the craftsmanship wasn’t just practical; it carried a sense of pride. I like to think every piece of handmade furniture had a story, a fingerprint of the one who built it.

The Land Was Their Livelihood

There were no grocery stores stocked with endless choices—families lived by what they could grow, raise, trade, or make themselves. Honey was gathered from bee trees, and sweet sorghum was pressed from homegrown cane. Fruits and pumpkins were dried and canned in stone jars, sealed with wax chipped off long red sticks and melted to make an airtight seal.

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Milk cows were essential, providing fresh milk for drinking, butter, and buttermilk. The concept of "expiration dates" didn’t exist—milk was left to clabber naturally before being churned into butter. The idea of daily, fresh butter is enough to make anyone’s mouth water—though I imagine churning it by hand on a hot day might make you rethink store-bought options.

Meat didn’t come wrapped in plastic but from their own livestock. Fattened hogs, chickens, and eggs were both sustenance and currency, traded or sold for necessities like shoes and cloth. And forget memory foam mattresses—goose-down feather beds were the ultimate luxury, filled with feathers plucked from their own geese and ducks.

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And then there were smokehouses—filled with hickory-smoked pork, the scent hanging in the air like a promise of good meals ahead. Those who used tobacco? They grew it, dried it, and twisted their own.

Work, Play, and the Rhythm of Life

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Despite the backbreaking labor, there was always time for family, neighbors, and fun. Threshing, harvesting, and hay baling weren’t just chores—they were social gatherings. Dozens of cousins would show up, pitching in, swapping stories, and making even the hardest work more bearable.

And when the work was done? Music. Families with organs, violins, mandolins, or guitars would gather and play late into the evening, filling the night with melodies carried through the open windows of those small cabins.

Children found entertainment without screens—hide and seek, horseshoes, marbles, and ball games filled their days. I can almost hear the echoes of their laughter bouncing off the rolling farmland, see the dust kicked up by their feet as they chased each other in the twilight.

And the discussions? They were serious. Most parents were well-read, debating worldwide events, politics, and—perhaps most of all—the Bible.

Why the Past Still Matters

It’s one thing to know your ancestors lived in a certain place at a certain time. It’s another to imagine their hands kneading bread, their voices calling their children home at dusk, their boots stomping the dirt as they walked behind a plow.

I’ll never meet my great-great-great-grandparents, but I can feel them. In every wooden chair made by hand, in every jar of preserves sealed with wax, in every song played on an old violin late into the night.

Genealogy isn’t just about the past. It’s about the way the past lives on in us.

And when I read stories like Opal’s letter, I don’t just see history. I see home