The Capture of Cohokia and Vincennes.
After the capture of Kaskaskia, without the shedding of a drop of blood, Clark pushed on to the taking of fort Cohokia, where the French, as soon as they were made to know that France had acknowledged the independence of America, shouted for freedom and the Americans. Clark then marched to fort Vincennes which, without the firing of a gun, surrendered, and the garrison took the oath of allegiance to Virginia July 19th, 1778. Very soon after this the British under Governor Hamilton, left Detroit and recaptured Vincennes, only to be forced by Clark to surrender it a second time in February, 1779, and to yield himself a prisoner of war. The taking of this fort the second time was a most remarkable achievement.
"Clark took, without artillery, a heavy stockaded fort, protected by cannon and swivels and garrisoned by trained soldiers. Much credit belongs to Clark's men but most belongs to their leader. The boldness of his plan and the resolute skill with which he followed it out, his perseverance through the intense hardship of the midwinter march of two hundred miles, through swamps and swollen rivers, with lack of force, the address with which he kept the French and Indians neutral, and the masterful way in which he controlled his own men, together with the ability and courage he displayed in the actual attack, combined to make his feat the most memorable of all the deeds done west of the Alleghenies in the Revolutionary war. It was likewise the most important in its results, for had he been defeated in the capture of these forts we would not only have lost Illinois but in all probability Kentucky also."
As it was "he planted the flag of the Old Dominion over the whole of the northwestern territory, and when peace came the British boundary line was forced to the big lakes instead of coming down to the Ohio, and the State of Virginia had a clear title to this vast domain, out of which were carved the states of Ohio, Illinois, Indiana, Wisconsin, Michigan and a part of Minnesota." Virginia's share in the history of the nation has been gallant and leading, but the Revolutionary war was emphatically fought by Americans for America; no part could have won without the help of the whole, and every victory was thus a victory for all in which all alike can take pride—American Monthly Magazine.
[UNCROWNED QUEENS AND KINGS, AS SHOWN THROUGH HUMOROUS INCIDENTS OF THE REVOLUTION.]
One by one the years have dropped into the abyss of the past, since the close of the war for American Independence. Time has spread his brooding wings over the gulf and much of the horror and of the pathos of that tremendous struggle is now veiled from us; yet we are still perhaps too prone to remember only the dreadful in the events of the war, too anxious to recall only the dark days, leaving out the traces of cheerfulness which even in those troublous times, were experienced here and there; for there were many incidents connected with the American Revolution which were in lighter vein; incidents which did not, it is true, abolish the gloom and the suffering, but which lightened the sombreness and shed rays of glimmering light through the shade.
It has always seemed to me almost incredible, that the Colonists could have found anything to laugh at during those awful years. They were threatened with absolute loss of liberty as a country; they were menaced by starvation, and they were obliged to pass through the rigors of the winters, without proper food or clothing. The sanctity of their homes was invaded by the grim monster of war, who was no respecter of persons, and to whose voracious palate all persons were equally attractive.
If the British won their cause, the Colonists had nothing better to which to look forward than slavery and injustice; if the colonists won theirs, they must face the future poorly equipped in every way. The waste of their country must be repaired, their desolate homes must be rebuilt; their business, which was crushed, must be restored, they must begin from the beginning. Whatever the result, the outlook was dark. As the days went on, the husbands and fathers were obliged to forsake their plows, and go, perhaps with but a moment's warning, to bloody fields of battle. Poorly clothed, they fought in their shirt sleeves and with their feet bare, their bloody foot prints often standing out as symbols of the struggle. The women must remain at home, to plow and sow and reap. The American soldiers must have spent many sleepless nights thinking of their unprotected ones at home, alone and defenceless. How could there be anything of humor connected with the struggle? And yet, while the American Revolution can in no sense of the word be said to have had its humorous side, yet there was much of humor connected with many Revolutionary occurrences, the stories of which have lived until the present time and have gained perhaps in their humorous aspect since the close of the great struggle.
One of the first incidents of the war, which I have found to savor of the humorous, was the meeting of General John Burgoyne and the Irish patriot immediately after the surrender of the British General. All through the march of the General, to Saratoga, he had boasted of the of the calamities which he would bring upon the Americans. Pompously up and down his quarters he would strut, composing high sounding sentences and listening to the fine roll of his voice, revelling in his verbosity and smiling with satisfaction at his thoughts which he deemed so great. The manifestos which he issued so frequently, were words, words, words, and these reiterated over and over again, the direful things which would encompass the Americans, did they not surrender with all haste and with becoming deference. He made himself ridiculous by the manifestos, but he did not realize this until he made his way through the streets of Albany, a conquered rather than a conquering hero, and met a funny little Irishman, who had evidently studied the harangues of the General to good purpose.
On the march through the Albany streets, Burgoyne was surrounded by men, women and children, who would fain look upon the face of this pompous British General. Suddenly in the crowded part of the street, there bobbed up in front of him, a blue-eyed, red-haired Celt, his bright eyes dancing with mirth and his tongue ready with the wit of his mother country. "Make way there, ye spalpeens," he shouted, "sure don't ye see the great Ginral Burgyne a comin' along? Sthand back fer the great Ginral. Wud yees be standin' in the way of the conquerer? If ye don't sthand back and give the great man room, shure I'll murther ivy mither's son of ye."
History does not record how the boasting Briton received the onslaught of the Irishman, but we can readily imagine that his face lengthened a little, as he heard the laughs on every side. Still it is quite possible that he did not see the joke until the following week. Someway, that march of Burgoyne and his army, always struck me as humorous to a certain extent. While there was the sadness caused by the loss of many lives, and while the battle of Saratoga was one of the great battles of the world, still Burgoyne himself, with his verbosity and his pomposity, was so ludicrous a figure oft times, that he gave a humorous tinge to the entire campaign.
The saying of General Starke at Bennington which has come down to us with such pleasing patriotism: "Here come the Red Coats and we must beat them to-day, or Mollie Starke is a widow," was not a humorous saying, nor was the battle of Bennington a humorous incident. But Bill Nye, the immortal, has written something exceedingly funny concerning both. Nye said, "This little remark of Starke's made an instantaneous hit, and when they counted up their prisoners at night they found they had six hundred souls and a Hessian." Nye's description of Burgoyne's surrender is well worth repeating. He wrote: "A council was now held in Burgoyne's tent and on the question of renewing the fight, stood six to six, when an eighteen pound hot shot went through the tent, knocking a stylograph pen out of Burgoyne's hand. Almost at once he decided to surrender, and the entire army of 6999 men was surrendered, together with arms, portable bath tubs and leather hat boxes."
Nearly all of our American soldiers were brave; that goes without saying. One of the bravest of these was Lieutenant Manning. His deeds of prowess were many and great. He was hero in one extremely humorous incident at the battle of Eutaw. After the British line had been broken, the "Old Buffs" started to run. This particular regiment was as boastful as General Burgoyne. Manning knew this and he was delighted to follow hard after them with his platoon. Excited in his pursuit he did not notice that he was getting away from his men, until he found himself surrounded by British soldiers and not an American in sight. Something must be done at once and Manning was the man to do it. He siezed a British officer standing near, and much to that officer's amazement he not only felt himself violently handled, but he heard the stentorian voice of the American shouting—"You are my prisoner." His sword was wrested from his grasp, and he was made a human shield for this preposterously impudent American. But instead of making a break for liberty, he began to relate his various titles to Manning. "I am sir," he said, "Sir Henry Barry, Deputy Adjutant General of the British Army, Captain in the 52d Regiment, Secretary to the Commandant of Charleston."
"Enough Sir," said Manning, "You are just the man I have been looking for. Fear nothing; you shall screen me from danger and I will take special care of you," which he did, holding the astonished man of title in front of him, until he reached the Americans and handed him over as a prisoner.
Colonel Peter Horry was another brave man of the south. He was afflicted by an impediment in his speech and at one time the impediment nearly worked disaster for him. He was ordered to await in ambuscade with his regiment for a British detachment, and he soon had them completely within his power; but when he tried to command his men to fire, his speech failed him. In vain he corrugated his brows and twisted his jaws; the word would not come out. "Fi, fi, fi, fi," he shouted, but could get no further. Finally in his desperation he howled, "shoot, blank you, shoot. You know very well what I would say. Shoot and be blanked to you." Horry was a determined character. At one time in battle a brother officer called to him:
"I am wounded, Colonel." "Think no more of it, Baxter, but stand to your post," called back Horry. "But I can't stand, Colonel, I am wounded a second time." "Then lie down, Baxter, but quit not your post." "Colonel," cried the suffering man, "they have shot me again, and if I remain longer here I shall be shot to pieces." "Be it so Baxter," returned Horry, "but stir not."
The part that women took in the Revolution has been sung by poets and made the nucleus of writers' efforts for a hundred years and more. Those Revolutionary women had brawn as well as brain. They were able to defend their homes from the depredations of the Royalists; they could bid the Indian begone, not only by word of mouth but at the musket's end. They could plow and sow and reap; they could care for their families and they could take up arms in liberty's cause if the need arose. Oh, those women of the American Revolution! What a history of bravery and fortitude and endurance they bequeathed to their descendants! There is some humor, too, in the stories left to us in record of their heroism.
It was the fashion among certain circles of Whig women, during the dark days of the Revolution, to wear deep mourning as an indication of their feelings. The black typified the darkness of the times and was worn by the town ladies who could afford it. One of these ladies, a Mrs. Brewton, was walking along Broad street in Charleston one morning, when she was joined by an insolently familiar British officer. At that very moment, the crepe flounce on her dress was accidently torn off. She quickly picked it up and passing just at that time the house of the absent Governor, John Rutledge, she sprang up the steps before the astonished eyes of the officer and decked the door with crepe, saying in ringing tones, "Where are you, dearest Governor? Surely the magnanimous Britons will not deem it a crime if I cause your house as well as your friends to mourn your absence." Colonel Moncrief, the English engineer, was occupying the house at the time, and his feelings were hurt at the action of Mrs. Brewton, as were those of the officer who had been with her, and she was arrested a few hours afterward and sent to Philadelphia.
One of the most marked women of the Revolution, a woman who figured in many a ludicrous as well as serious incident, was Nancy Hart, of Georgia. Nancy had a frightful temper, a big ungainly body, and she suffered from a most marked obliquity of sight. In fact Nancy was so cross-eyed, that her own children never could tell when their mother was looking at them and were perhaps better behaved on that very account. One time a party of Tories entered her modest home on food intent. They had taken the precaution of providing food for themselves, shooting Nancy's last remaining gobbler. Mrs. Hart had her head muffled up and no one had noticed her cross-eyes. The soldiers stacked their arms within reach and Nancy passed between them and the table, assiduous in her attention to the diners. The party had a jug, of course, and when they were becoming right merry, Nancy suddenly tore the mufflers from her head and snatching up one of the guns, swore that she would kill every last man who tried to get his gun or who delayed in getting out of the cabin. The men looked at Nancy's eyes and each man thinking she was aiming at him only, made a hasty and determined exit. But the terrible woman killed three Tories that day with her own hands. One day Nancy was boiling soap. As she industriously stirred, one of her eyes caught a glimpse of a Tory peeking through a chink in the cabin. Stirring busily away, Nancy kept one eye on the soap and the other on the chink. When the spy again appeared she let drive full at the chink, a good big ladle full of hot soap. A scream satisfied her that she had hit the mark, and she finished her soap-making with great satisfaction. This woman was termed by one of the patriots: "A honey of a patriot, but the devil of a wife."
The Revolutionary woman's resources were indeed great, and the strategy she employed was as satisfactory as it was many times humorous. A Whig woman of New York State, a Mrs. Fisher, was one morning surprised by the hurried entrance of a Whig neighbor, who begged of her to conceal him as the Tories were pursuing him. Just outside her door was an ash heap four or five feet high. Seizing a shovel, Mrs. Fisher immediately excavated a place in the ashes and buried her friend in it. But first she had taken precaution to place a number of quills one in the other and extend them from the prisoner's mouth to the air, that he might breathe, and there he remained snugly ensconced until the Tories had come and gone, and even though they ran over the ash heap, they never suspected what lay beneath it.
Equally resourceful was that woman of the Revolution, who when her husband was pursued by Tories, hustled him down cellar and into a meat barrel partially filled with brine and meat. The Tories went into the cellar and even peered into the barrel, but they did not discover the man, who at the risk of terribly inflamed eyes, ducked his head beneath the brine, when he heard the soldiers' hands on the head of the barrel. Inflamed eyes were easier to bear than imprisonment in the hands of the British.
Bill Nye's description of the close of the war is as humorous as it is correct. Nye wrote: "The country was free and independent, but oh, how ignorant it was about the science of government. The author does not wish to be personal when he states that the country at that time did not know enough about affairs to carry water for a circus elephant. It was heavily in debt, with no power to raise money. New England refused to pay tribute to King George and he in turn directed his hired men to overturn the government; but a felon broke out on his thumb and before he could put it down, the crisis was averted and the country saved."
And so it goes; the sad and the humorous are blended on every side in life's struggles either in war or peace. Fortunate is the man or woman who can halt a little by the wayside and for a few moments laugh dull care away.—Compiled from Federation Magazine.
[A COLONIAL STORY.]
A long time ago, before the hand of progress had stamped the land with a net work of steel, or commerce and trade had blackened the skies of blue, John Hamilton and Tabitha Thweatt were married. There was no cutting of Dutchess satin or charmeuse draped with shadow lace, for it took time in those days to prepare for a wedding. Silk worms had to be raised, thread spun and woven into cloth before the bride's clothes could be fashioned. Waiting was no bar to happiness; the bride-to-be sang merrily while spinning or weaving at her loom and as the shuttles went in and out her day dreams were inter-mingled with the weaving of her wedding garments.
In the year of our Lord, 1770, the making of silk in the colonies was a new industry and when Mistress Tabitha decided on silk for her wedding dress she had to plant mulberry twigs and wait for them to grow. She had to pick the leaves to feed the worms until they wrapped themselves in their silken cocoons and as soon as the cocoons would web they were baked to keep them from cutting the raw silk. It took one hundred cocoons to make one strand of silk. After all these preparations this colonial girl's dream of a silken wedding gown grew into a realization. She not only raised the silk worms, but spun the silk that they had webbed and wove it into shimmering cloth, from which her wedding gown was made. She also knit her wedding stockings of silk; but only one pair of silk went into her trousseau for the rest were knit of cotton.
The family records say that this couple had no worldly goods except what their own hands had wrought. They were God-fearing people of the Puritan type. He felled the trees and sawed them into logs out of which their home was constructed. The logs that went toward the building of their home were mortised and pinned together with wooden pegs. The floors were puncheon flat slabs split from whole tree trunks and the doors and windows were made of oak and were swung on great wooden hinges. The chimney was of "stick and dirt" and across the broad fire place hung the crane from which were suspended the cooking utensils.
John Hamilton was a member of one of Virginia's most distinguished families. He possessed an iron will that defied adversity; he blazed the way through his state and was brave enough to "hew down forests and live on crumbs." Mistress Tabitha was a help-meet to her pioneer husband. She not only cooked his meals but carried them to him when he worked in the field. He had the honor, and in those days it was indeed an honor, to be elected as a representative from his state to Congress. The frugal and beautiful Tabitha accompanied him to Washington. Her preparation for the replenishing of her ward-robe was quite as elaborate as those formerly made for her wedding. With deft hands she carded from the snowy cotton piles of rolls that were spun into thread and she wove many yards of cloth from which she made her underwear. From carefully carded bats of cotton she spun many spindles of fine smooth thread that was woven into fine cream cotton goods, some of which were dyed with copperas. Some was spread day and night on the grass where the dew would fall to bleach it. From the bleached cotton this industrious woman made her dresses and the snowy whiteness of some of her gowns was the envy of her neighbors. She also carried in her little hair trunk to Washington, not only many well made cotton garments, but was the proud possessor of one black silk dress and two black silk aprons. The dress was afterward described as being so heavy that it could "stand alone." Mistress Tabitha, although a little overworked, was not too weary after reaching Washington to attend the Presidential ball and dance the minuet with the gallant Washington and the noted LaFayette.
John and Tabitha Hamilton had eleven children. All were born in Virginia except one, who came after they moved to Hancock County, near Sparta, Georgia, in 1791. Their home was destroyed twice by the Tories and once by a Tornado. Mr. Hamilton had just completed a nice dwelling for his family when the memorable tornado and cyclone passed over that portion of Georgia in April, 1805. All of the family except Jack and Everard were away from home. There was but one small house left on the place, their new house having been blown away, none of it left standing. Some of the doors were found six miles off in an adjoining county. Clothing, books and papers were carried promiscuously away. Jack was much bruised, having been struck by many things. His booksack was blown away, and his "Ovid" was found forty miles over in Baldwin County and returned to him. This book is now in possession of one of his descendants. Everard was carried into the air and lodged in a swamp about a quarter of a mile away, where he was caught up by the whirl wind. Madame Hamilton took this misfortune as coming from God and helped her husband to collect anew his scattered fortune. Later we read of them as living on their plantation surrounded by their servants, who ministered to their comforts and attended their broad fields.
In reading about the women who lived in the early days of Georgia, their splendid lives stand as a beacon to the reckless and extravagant ones of today. They not only spun the thread and wove the cloth used in their homes, but they made all of the clothes their children wore, and reared them to be God-fearing men and women. They visited their neighbors for thirty miles away and extended a glad welcome and cordial hospitality for any and every guest. One with impunity may ask the question: "Are they pleased with their descendants, these women of Georgia's pioneer days?"—Mrs. J. L. Walker, Lyman Hall Chapter, D. A. R.
[MOLLY PITCHER FOR HALL OF FAME.]
The movement to place in the hall of fame a bust of Molly Pitcher, the only woman sergeant in the United States army, has the enthusiastic support of former Senator Chauncey M. Depew.
It was in the important movements of the year 1778 that at the battle of Monmouth Molly Pitcher was carrying water to her husband, who was a gunner of a battery at one piece of artillery. He was disabled and the lieutenant proposed to remove the piece out of danger, when Molly said, "I can do everything my husband could," and she performed her husband's duties at his old gun better than he could have done.
The next morning she was taken before General Washington, her wonderful act was reported and its influence upon the outcome of the battle, which was a victory, and Washington made her at once a sergeant in the army to stand on the rolls in that rank as long as she would.
It seems appropriate now for us to place among the immortals and in the hall of fame this only woman sergeant of the United States army, who won her title fighting for her country upon the field of battle.—National Magazine.
[REVOLUTIONARY RELICS.]
Great grandmother's spinning wheel stands in the hall,
That is her portrait there;
Great grandfather's sword hangs near on the wall,
What do you girlies care,
That in seventeen hundred and seventy-six,
One bitter winter's night,
When the air was full of sleet and snow,
And the kitchen fire burned bright.
He stood with a face so thoughtful and sad
With his hand on her hair,
"Asenath, I start at the break of day,"
Oh, that bride was so fair!
But country was dearer than home and wife,
Proudly she lifted her head,
"Go, David, and stay till is ended the strife,
God keep you, dear," she said.
Toward the loom in the kitchen she drew,
She had finished that day,
A beautiful blanket of brown and blue,
"Was it plaided this way?"
It was just like this but faded and worn,
And full of holes and stain,
When our soldier grandsire came back one morn,
To wife and child again.
When his eyes were dim and her hair was white,
Waiting the Master's call,
She finished this blanket one winter's night,
That hangs here on the wall.
And dreaming of fifty years before,
When she stood by that wheel,
And that cradle creaked on the kitchen floor,
By that swift and reel.
There's a rare old plate with a portrait in blue,
Of England's George the Third,
A porringer small and a stain shoe,
That five brave hearts has stirred,
There's an ancient gun all covered with rust,
A clock, a bible worn,
"Fox Book of Martyrs" and "Holy Wars,"
A brass tipped powder horn.
Great grandfather sat in that old arm chair,
Grandmother rocked by his side,
Till the Master called through the sweet June air,
They both went out with the tide.
—Florence I. W. Burnham in American Monthly Magazine.
[TRAGEDY OF THE REVOLUTION OVERLOOKED BY HISTORIANS.]
By T. H. Dreher, M. D.
Before the William Thompson Chapter, D. A. R., invaded this neck of the moral vineyard and put its delicate, historical fingers upon the tendrils of local happenings, there was no blare of trumpets over a foul and bloody deed which occurred near the "Metts Cross-Roads," in this county, during the Revolutionary war. But the gruesome case was never without intense interest to those concerned in the episodes of a past age. The strange and mysterious always throws an additional halo over our heroes. This feeling is intensified, in this case, by virtue of the fact that the same blood which ran in the veins of the victim of the "cross-roads plot," now pulsates in the arteries of many lineal, living descendants who are part and parcel of Calhoun County's sturdy citizenship.
The malignant, cruel and cowardly feature of this dastardly crime, garbed in a plausible and hypocritical cloak, make it unique, even in the gory annals of criminal warfare and harks our memories back to the murder of Duncan, King of Scotland. Here, as there, we have no doubt, but that souls grew faint over the details of the foul conspiracy and "their seated hearts knocked at their ribs" until spurred to the "sticking place" by the evil eloquence of some overpowering and unnatural genius, like unto Lady Macbeth. John Adams Treutlen (for that was the name of our hero) is in his grave.
"After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well,
Treason has done his worst; nor steel nor poison,
Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing,
Can touch him further."
That is true. The cold pen of a true chronicler, however, must again allude to the utter negligence and gross indifference of an earlier age to a proper appreciation of significant events. That a noted Governor of Georgia should be brutally done to death by revengeful Tories because of the intense Whig fires which consumed his very soul; that children, and children's children, should grow up around the scene of his untimely taking-off, and still his home and his grave should be, today, unidentified spots on the map of Calhoun County force us to exclaim with Mark Antony: "But yesterday the word of Caesar might have stood against the world. Now lies he there and none so poor to do him reverence."
The salient facts in the life of Treutlen are interesting. Born in Berectsgaden, 1726, as a German Salzburger, he was brought to this country in a boat load of Salzburgers that landed at Savannah in 1734. If early impressions count for anything, there is no wonder that the spirit of liberty and independence sank deep into the very inmost recesses of his soul. His father, along with thousands of other German Protestants, was exiled by a fanatical decree of Archbishop Leopold, which drove out from his domain all who would not accept the Catholic faith. It was this Salzburger strain and religion which was unterrified and unwashed, amid the raging tempests of an angry sea, while others aboard, including John Wesley, trembled for life, and confessed to a livelier awakening to the rejuvenating and sustaining power of God upon frail humanity.
Some 25 miles from Savannah these brave and devout pilgrims, after singing a psalm "set up a rock and in the spirit of the pious Samuel, named the place Ebenezer (stone of help) 'for hitherto hath the Lord helped us.'" Amid these crude but inspiring surroundings the young Treutlen received a splendid education, for that day, under the strict tutelage of his scholarly Lutheran pastors, Bolzius and Gronau. Thus it was that, when the red gloom of impending war was already visible on the distant horizon, and the Provincials had gathered at Savannah to take steps against the high-handed measures of England, John Adam Treutlen answered the roll-call from the Ebenezer country and was one of its leading and most aggressive spirits. Thus it was that, in the teeth of strong Tory influence and friends he espoused the patriot cause with all the ardor of a Knight Templar, thus becoming the chief object of Loyalist hatred and vengeance, his property being confiscated, and his home, with many of its treasures, burned to ashes.
Elected first Governor of Georgia under an independent Constitution by the Legislature, in 1777, there was not as yet the fearful carnage and bloody battles which were still to come, and which were to make the South and its manhood a synonym for courage and endurance the world over. It is true that the immortal conflict on Sullivan's Island had been fought and won, but Clinton and Parker, still hopeful under drooping plumes, had shifted the scene to the North.
The "blue bloods" of the Palmetto State—with the exception of Charleston's brave firebrand, Christopher Gadsden, were still praying for that peace, borne of wealth, intelligence and luxurious ease. Georgia, now perched upon the top-most round of empire—pre-eminence—was then weak in its swaddling clothes and viewed only as a promising child to be brought up in the aristocratic South Carolina Sunday School. With a cool and calculating diplomacy which smacked somewhat suggestively of the rising Talleyrand, we are told that the gentle ripples on the waters little betokened the torpedoes which were being laid beneath. Bludgeons, not the velvety hand of artful diplomacy, were calculated to narcotize the grim-visaged ruler of the satrapy across the Savannah, as all accounts agree that Treutlen was a somewhat "stormy petrel," a sort of pocket edition of Oliver Cromwell, the greatest civilized dictator that the world has ever produced—who could rout a parliament of sitting members, lock the door and put the key in his pocket.
And so it came to pass that, when the Governor heard of the so-called "Machiavellian scheme" to annex his little kingdom to the great Palmetto Commonwealth, by a coup d'etat, he pounded the floor viciously with his "condemnatory hoof" and shot a fiery proclamation over the official mahogany, denouncing the conspiracy in bitter vein and offering a heavy reward for the chief emissary—Drayton. When the Georgia patriot Government fell in 1779, Treutlen, along with hundreds of others, took British protection and fled to St. Matthews Parish, in the present County of Calhoun; and the road he travelled was a thornier path than that from Jerusalem to Jerico with
"Injuns on the upper way,
And death upon the lower."
It is not for me to split fine hairs over the principle involved in conditional agreements during the days of war, when every man is showing his teeth and reaching at the throat of his enemy. Suffice to say, that he chafed under the Tory bit and would have none of it. A born fighter and a man of rugged individuality, it was impossible for him to hug both sides of any fence. A dictator by instinct (and by Georgia statute,) well educated, and fresh from the Gubernatorial eiderdown he would naturally bring around his head swarms of bitter enemies, in times of war, and he was a marked man. He met his doom on a dreary night in 1780 under peculiarly atrocious conditions.
It is said that a small band of vindictive Tories went to his home during that fateful evening, and enticed him out, on a treacherous plea of surrender on certain plausible conditions. As he emerged from his door, he was seized, and not only brutally butchered, but, (all traditions agree,) literally hacked to pieces. The exact spot where the fragments of his dismembered body were buried will probably never be known. But there is every reason to believe that his bones rest in the vicinity of his home, from the fact that his tenure of life in this section was short; that he was without relatives beyond his family circle, and those relatives continued to live in the neighborhood. The mere fact that a Governor of Georgia could come here and be brutally and foully murdered by Tories, in the heat of war passions, and not a line recorded about it, in any South Carolina history or newspaper bearing upon that period, should open our eyes to the danger of swallowing the spurious pill offered to us by the Emily Geiger exterminators.
But for the Georgia records and a straight line of descendants, hereabouts, the Treutlen individuality and tradition would be tabooed as a "myth" and fabrication from beginning to end. Through the laudable efforts of the local D. A. R.—and particularly its regent, Mrs. F. C. Cain—a "marker" has been promised from the quartermaster general's office, Washington, D. C. It will stand in the vicinity of the "Metts Crossroads" and will remind the passerby of as true and loyal a Whig as lived during those perilous days.
Treutlen's general appearance, even in repose, as exhibited in an old photograph now in the possession of a descendant, is interesting. The orthodox military coat, unbottoned and spread abroad over his shoulders, brings into bold relief a "dicky" shirt front, emerging into a high and ferocious collar, which nestles snugly and smugly under his lower jaws. There is a profuse shock of hair, futilely bombarding an obstinate "cow-lick," the whole showing little or no subserviency to comb and brush. His large, piercing eyes, fringed by shaggy brows, with a drooping upper lid, produces a sad, if not sinister, aspect. The nose has a Roman slant, which meets a bold, intellectual forehead in an almost unbroken line. Marked cheek bones and a thin face ease down, more or less hastily, to a sharp and angular chin. A pair of thin lips, closely plastered to each other, bespeak firm determination; and his whole contour impresses one, forcibly, that he was not a safe man to take too many liberties with.
As intimated at the outset, there is an interesting ramification of descendants from the Treutlen family, many of whom are still living in Calhoun County. Some have gained prominence in Alabama, Washington, D. C., and other places, but I will note only those of local (and some, at least, of state-wide) interest. There were three sons and three daughters: John Adam Treutlen, Jr., Christian, Depew, Mary, Elizabeth and Hannah. Mary married Edward Dudley. From this union was born Mary Dudley, who married Adam Amaker, February 10, 1820, and from the latter was born Adam Perry Amaker, who married Augusta Zimmerman, and they, in turn, were the parents of Perry and T. A. Amaker, now living—the former of Denver, Col., and the latter a leading business man of St. Matthews. Amanda Amaker (alive) married Major Whitmarsh Seabrook Murray, of Edisto Island, who recently died here. They moved to this place after the war and leave many descendants.
Elizabeth Treutlen, another daughter, married William Kennedy and from them descended John W. Kennedy, who resided here for years, and now at Tyron, N. C. His only daughter, Vernon, married Dr. A. McQueen Salley, originally of Orangeburg, and a son of the present sheriff of that county, now of Saluda, N. C. John Adam Treutlen, Jr., married Margaret Miller. Their son, Gabriel, married Ann Connor and to them was born Caroline Treutlen, who married Jacob Dantzler. Their son, Col. O. M. Dantzler, of Confederate war fame, was the father of O. M. Dantzler, the popular sheriff of Calhoun County, who recently died; Fred and Thos. W., of St. Matthews; Mortimer O., of Orangeburg and Charles G., an eminent jurist (deceased.)
Rachael Treutlen, daughter of John Adam Treutlen, Jr., married the Rev. J. J. Wannamaker, of St. Matthews. From this union were born Mary Ann (who first married Joel Butler and later William Reeves) and W. W. Wannamaker, deceased, who for many years was a leading physician of this community, and who married Adelia Keitt. To the last couple was born Agelina, who married the Rev. Artemus B. Watson, a well known minister of the Methodist Church, who died recently. Their son, Whitfield W. Watson, married May, daughter of the Hon. Samuel J. Dibble, and a daughter Adele Watson, deceased, married A. C. Hane, Fort Motte. Other children of Dr. W. W. Wannamaker were: John Keitt, who married Chloe Watson, both dead. He bequeathed $20,000 for a Methodist Church here. W. W. Wannamaker, a successful farmer of this community, who married Lou Banks, deceased. A son bears the honored patronymic of "Treutlen." Mary B. Wannamaker, deceased, who married Dr. W. T. C. Bates, of St. Matthews, the well known ex-State Treasurer.
Emma C., a daughter of Rev. J. J. Wannamaker, married Dr. W. L. Pou, an eminent physician of St. Matthews, now 84 years old, and who has been actively practicing his profession for over 60 years. A daughter of Dr. and Mrs. Pou, Emma, deceased, married A. K. Smoke, a prominent and influential citizen of this town, while Blanche, another daughter, is living, and the joy and pride of her aged parents. A son of Rev. J. J. Wannamaker and Rachael Treutlen, his wife, was Capt. Francis M., deceased, a noted lawyer in his day, who married Eleanor Bellinger, of Bamberg. From the last couple were born the following: Jennie B., who married J. B. Tyler, of Georgia, both dead; Mary B., deceased, who married J. H. Henagan, of St. Matthews; Rachael Treutlen, who married H. A. Raysor, a successful merchant and prominent citizen of St. Matthews; J. S. Kottowe, a leading banker and merchant of St. Matthews, who married Lillian Salley, of Orangeburg; Francis M., who married the writer; William H., professor of German in Trinity College, N. C., who married Isabella Stringfellow, of Chester, and Olin M., professor of English in the Alabama Polytechnic College at Auburn, who married Katherine Hume, of New Haven, Conn.
[JOHN MARTIN.]
When quite a little boy in his home in Caroline County, Virginia, John Martin adopted as his motto: "I will do my best." It helped him even in childhood to have this motto, for whenever he had any difficult task to perform, either at home or school, he remembered his motto and did his best.
In his veins flowed the blood of a noble ancestry and many sterling merited qualities helped him in the formation of a manly character.
He was born in 1751, amid turbulent scenes in Virginia, for the Indians were frequently incited by the French to commit deeds of violence and cruelty upon the English colonists, and in consequence of this, his early impressions were of preparations for war. At a tender age John witnessed the departure of his father, Abner Martin, to join Colonel Washington on his way to Fort Duquesne. He saw him buckle on his sword and sabre and mount his charger and set his face towards the Ohio Valley. And after that parting he experienced some of the horrors of war, for in the silent hour of night, the stealthy tread of the Indian noiselessly approached the Martin plantation and applied the torch to the barns and outhouses, and morning found them in ruins. He shared the general feeling of uneasiness and insecurity that had settled down upon the home circle in consequence of his father's absence, and his grandfather's illness. His mother at this time was for him his tower of strength, and his ark of safety, for she it was who devised means for their protection and safety. As he grew older and thought upon these stirring scenes, no wonder that his martial spirit was stirred within him and that he resolved "some day I'll go too, and I can if I do my best," and he did.
About 1768, the Martin family removed from Virginia to South Carolina and settled at Edgefield. The sons were sent to Virginia to be educated, and it was there that John formed a close personal friendship for George Washington, which ripened with the coming years. When the war for American Independence was declared, John Martin, and his seven brothers, all officers, had his life's desire fulfilled, and following the footsteps of his father saw service in the defence of his country. He also served with distinction in the state legislature and afterward was made General in command of the South Carolina state troops. He married Elizabeth, the daughter of Colonel Nathaniel Terry, of Virginia. Many years later General John Martin was on a visit to his son Marshall Martin, in Meriwether County, Georgia at the time when Georgia was called upon to furnish her quota of troops for the war of 1812. John Martin was then 70 years old and still the fires of patriotism were not extinguished nor the love of battle front subdued.
The talk of another war with England made him forget his years, and his infirmities, and as his son Marshall recounted the probabilities of renewed encounters, and spoke of his own enlistment, the old "war horse sniffing the battle from afar," exclaimed excitedly, "My son let me go in your stead."
After this visit John Martin returned to his Edgefield home, where he died in 1820.
Boys and girls who would develop fine character must have high ideals even in childhood. "Sow a thought and you reap a habit, sow a habit and you reap a character, sow a character and you reap a destiny"—M. M. Park, David Meriwether Chapter, D. A. R., Greenville.
[JOHN STARK, REVOLUTIONARY SOLDIER.]
The victory of the little band of patriots at Bennington early in the Revolutionary War made John Stark famous, and shortly afterward he was christened "Old Bennington," first by the soldiers and then by the American colonists generally. At the time of the victory Stark was close to fifty years of age, and had had a long and distinguished career as an Indian fighter.
In early life John Stark was a New Hampshire farmer, and in that state he was born of Irish parents, and there he died in 1822, at the advanced age of 94. His farm was located in the wildest part of the forest country of New Hampshire, and Indian fighting was a hobby with him. Several years prior to the Revolution he and his little band of frontiersmen had succeeded in driving the Indians from their neighborhood, so that they were no longer troubled with them. Then for several years Stark settled down to the enjoyment of farm life. At this vocation he continued until tidings reached him of the battle of Lexington.
Promptly upon the receipt of this news he mounted his horse, and at the head of several hundred of his neighbors, set out to join the Colonial Army at Cambridge. Upon his arrival there he was appointed a colonel, and in one day he had organized a regiment of 800 hardy backswoodsmen.
Then came the memorable Bunker Hill day. Stark and his men were stationed a few miles away from the scene of this conflict, but in full sight of both Bunker and Breed's hills. Seeing that a battle was inevitable, he waited for no orders, but set out at once for the ground, which he reached just before the conflict began. He led his men into the fight saying: "Boys aim at their waistbands," an order that has become historical.
In the heat of this action a soldier came to Stark with the report that his son, a youth of 16, who was with him on the field had been killed.
"This is not the moment to talk of private affairs," was the grim reply; "go back to your post."
As it proved, the report was false, and young Stark served as a staff officer through the war.
After the patriots were compelled to evacuate Boston, Stark marched with his regiment to New York, but was shortly directed to take part in the ill-starred expedition against Canada. The retreating army reached Ticonderoga on the 7th of July. Here on the following day the Declaration of Independence reached the soldiers in the field and Col. Stark had the satisfaction, on the scene of his former exploits, to hear the proclamation read to his cheering troops.
Then Gen. Stark proceeded south to assist Washington and to gain his full share of applause in the battle of Trenton. In March, 1777, he returned to his native state to recruit the ranks of his regiment, and while there news came to him that a new list of promotions had been made in which his name was omitted, while younger officers had been advanced in rank. This injustice he bitterly resented and resigned from the army and retired to his farm.
But Stark was still the patriot and when the information reached him that the enemy were moving south from Canada, and that Gen. St. Clair had retreated and that Ticonderoga had been captured, New Hampshire flew to arms and called for Stark to command her troops.
Stark was at Bennington when he learned that a detachment of six hundred men under Col. Baum had been dispatched by Burgoyne on a foraging expedition in that section, sending a party of Indians in advance on a scouting raid. Upon learning of this Stark sent out expresses to call in the militia of the neighborhood, he marched out to meet Baum, who entrenched himself in a strong position about six miles from Bennington.
This was on the 14th of August. A few miles out he met Lieut.-Col. Gregg retreating, with the enemy close at hand. Stark at once halted and drew up his men in order of battle. The enemy, seeing this, at once stopped also and entrenched themselves. Thus the armies remained for two days, contenting themselves with skirmishing, in which the Americans had much the best of the game. Baum's Indians began to desert, saying that "the woods were filled with Yankees."
On the morning of the sixteenth Stark prepared for an attack. Before advancing he addressed his men with that brief but telling address which has made his name historic: "There are the red coats; we must beat them to-day or to-night Molly Stark sleeps a widow."
They beat them and "Molly" had the satisfaction of long enjoying the fame that came to John, instead of wearing the widow's weeds. The victory was decisive and by a band of raw militia, poorly armed and without discipline, but led by one of the most fearless men of the revolution.
Of the one thousand British soldiers engaged in this fight, not more than a hundred escaped, and it was this victory of "Old Bennington" which led ultimately to the surrender of Burgoyne at Saratoga. Col. Baum, who was mortally wounded, said of the provisionals, "They fought more like hell-hounds than like soldiers." Washington spoke of the engagement as "the great stroke struck by Gen. Stark near Bennington" and Baroness Riedessel, then in the British camp, wrote: "This unfortunate event paralyzed our operations."
"Old Bennington" was a splendid type of the class of men who gave success to the American Revolution. Congress, after Bennington, hastened to repair its former action by appointing Stark a brigadier-general, and he continued in the army till the end of the war. He lived to see the country firmly established, and when he died in 1822 he was buried on the banks of the Merrimac River at Manchester.
[BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.]
By George Fitch.
Benjamin Franklin was an ordinary man with an extraordinary supply of common sense who flourished in the eighteenth century and is still regarded as one of the finest of American products.
Franklin was born in Boston, but was one of the few Boston wise men to succeed in getting away from that city. His family was not distinguished and when he left Boston, after having run a newspaper with more brilliance than success, no committee of city officials appeared to bid him goodbye.
Franklin arrived in Philadelphia with enough money left to buy two rolls of bread and paraded the town wearing one loaf under his arm and eating the other. This successfully quarantined him from Philadelphia society and he was enabled to put all his time into the printing business with such success that he was sent to London in 1824 by the governor to get a printing outfit. He worked for eighteen months in a London printing house and was probably the most eminent employee that London Journalism ever had, though England has not yet waked up to this fact.
Franklin then returned to Philadelphia and purchased The Gazette, which he began to edit with such success that he frequently had to spend all day making change for eager subscribers. It might be well to mention here that at this time he was only 23 years old, having been born January 17, 1706, and having been a full-fledged editor at the age of 15. Genius often consists in getting an early start and keeping started.
At the age of 26 Franklin's "Poor Richard's Almanac," the sayings of a wise old man, had the largest circulation of anything printed in the Colonies, and people sought his advice on everything from love to chicken raising. At the age of 31 he was a member of the Pennsylvania Assembly. At 40 he had diagnosed lightning and had exhibited the first electricity ever in captivity in a bottle, having caught it with a kite string and a key. He had also charted the course of North American storms, and explained the gulf stream.
Franklin helped the Colonies to declare their independence and secured the treaty of alliance with France. At 79 he was elected governor of Pennsylvania. At 82 he helped write the Constitution of the United States. He also devised the American postal system. He died at the age of 84, and Philadelphia is prouder of his tombstone than she is of the Liberty Bell.
Through all his long and busy life Franklin never had time to dress up and adopt the social usages of his day. But this did not prevent him from dazzling the exquisite court of France at its most brilliant and useless period. He was one of the few men who gave to the earth more wisdom than he absorbed from it, but he never was a bonanza for the tailors. Had he spent his youth keeping four tailors and three haberdashers in affluence, Franklin relics would probably not command the high price which they now do.
[CAPTAIN MUGFORD RAN THE BRITISH BLOCKADE AND CAPTURED POWDER SHIP.]
Had Great Britain made peace with the American colonies after the British army had been driven from Boston, James Mugford would be a popular hero today. But Great Britain continued the war for eight long years, and so many heroes were made that the name of James Mugford, "the world forgetting, and by the world forgot," was lost.
Mugford died in 1776. He and his 27 companions were attacked by 200 British marines. They fought most all night, and the British were whipped, but the gallant captain was killed by a pike thrust.
The British under General Gage evacuated Boston, in March, 1776. The British fleet remained behind in Boston to blockade the port. General Washington hurried to New York with the main Colonial army to dispute the proposed British landing there. General Artemas Ward was left in command of a pretty sizeable American army around Boston; but Washington had taken all the powder and most of the guns.
The Americans were at the mercy of the British ships, only the British didn't know it. General Ward zealously guarded the fact that his powder supply was nil, and planned to fill his magazines at the invader's expense.
Accordingly two small ships, the schooners Hancock and Franklin, were outfitted and ordered to sea for the purpose of capturing a supply ship. Captain Samuel Tucker commanded the Hancock. James Mugford, a citizen of Marblehead, Mass., was appointed master of the Franklin. His vessel carried a crew of 21, including himself.
On May 7 Captain Tucker captured two brigs laden with valuable supplies; but no powder. He took his prizes to Lynn. General Ward communicated with Captain Mugford and explained to him the desperate straits the army was fronting.
"I'll get some powder," said the short-spoken Marblehead. And he did.
The British ship Hope, carrying war munitions for the British, was due. It had powder for the fleet. Captain Mugford heard of its expected arrival and put to sea.
Almost within sight of the British fleet he met the Hope and captured it. But how to land the prize? He didn't have men enough to take it to Lynn or any other port very distant. The British fleet lay between him and the American army in Boston.
Captain Mugford chose to run the British blockade and fight the whole fleet of a dozen ships or more, if necessary. He put a few of his best men aboard the Hope and made the British crew sail it. Then, in the Franklin, he arrogantly sailed toward the British fleet and dropped a few cannon balls its way.
The British were astounded. What could this crazy skipper mean by attacking a fleet with one dinky little schooner? They would teach him a lesson. The whole fleet maneuvered round to blow the Franklin off the bay. Meanwhile the Hope sneaked in the harbor, and then Captain Mugford outsailed the British fleet and got in himself. In the hold of the Hope the Americans found 75 tons of powder and other war stores needed just then more than men or gold. Mugford had made good his word.
Very naturally the British were angry. The admiral issued an order that James Mugford was to be captured by any hook or crook and promptly killed. Somebody told Captain Mugford about the order.
"Oh, piffle!" he said, or something like that. "I'll run by his derned old fleet every day in the week and twice on Sunday if I want."
The Sunday following, May 19, 1776, Captain Mugford, in the Franklin, with 21 men, and Captain Cunningham, in the privateer Lady Washington, a vessel carrying seven men and a few small swivel guns, started to puncture the British blockade again. They would have succeeded, but the Franklin grounded. A flotilla of small boats from the fleet, carrying 200 well-armed men, started for the attack. Captain Cunningham refused to leave his companion, so both he and Captain Mugford prepared for battle.
It was a fiercely fought contest and lasted the better part of the night. On May 20 General Ward made the following report of the engagement:
"Captain Mugford was very fiercely attacked by 12 or 13 boats full of men, but he and his men exerted themselves with remarkable bravery, beat off the enemy, sunk several of their boats and killed a number of their men; it is supposed they lost 60 or 70. The intrepid Captain Mugford fell a little before the enemy left his schooner. He was run through with a lance while he was cutting off the hands of the pirates as they were attempting to board him, and it is said that with his own hands he cut off five pairs of theirs. No other man was killed or wounded on the Franklin."—Kansas City Star.
[GOVERNOR JOHN CLARKE.]
Among the historical sketches penned by Miss Annie M. Lane for the American Journal of History, that touching the life of Governor John Clarke, received the highest award, and through the kindness of the author we are permitted to reproduce it.
"Why are the dead not dead? Who can undo
What time has done? Who can win back the wind?
Beckon lost music from a broken lute?
Renew the redness of a last year's rose?
Or dig the sunken sun-set from the deep?"
I sometimes think there are more interesting things and people under the ground than above it, yet we who are above it do not want to go below it to get acquainted with them, but if we can find out anything from the outside we enjoy it. In a previous article, I said there was no spot in Georgia so full of buried romance as Wilkes County, and no manuscript so fascinating as the musty and yellow old records of a hundred years ago, which lie unmolested in our courthouse, especially those of 1777.
One cannot but feel after reading these books that he has been face to face with the grand old gentlemen of Revolutionary days: the men who walked our streets with their ruffled shirts—three-cornered hats and dangling swords—yet so different are they in personality and character that the weaving together of their lives makes to me a grand and beautiful fabric, "a tapestry of reminiscent threads." Some rich, some dark and sombre in shade, making a background so fitting for the crimson and purple and gold—for the conspicuous, inflaming color of impetuous natures, toned down with characters as white and cool as the snowflakes which fall upon our Southern violets.
You have but to close your eyes to the scene of today to recall ex-Governor Talbot, Governor Matthews, General Clarke, together with Jesse Mercer, Mr. Springer and Duncan C. Campbell, who were familiar figures once upon the streets of Washington.
In the painting of character sketches we would not do the individual justice if we did not remember his environments, and above all his inherited nature, for are we not all bound by heredity? My last sketch was of Jesse Mercer, now it is of John Clarke. How striking the contrast. The life of Jesse Mercer was as quiet and majestic as was his nature. John Clarke just three years his senior, born and reared at no great distance had a life of adventure. He was the son of our stalwart General Elijah Clarke and his wife, Hannah, and was the youngest soldier whose name appears upon the roster of Kettle Creek, being 13 years of age. (Battle of Kettle Creek, 1779, John Clarke, born 1766.)
I will refer you to history to convince you of how his whole nature was fired by the blood within his veins, inherited from both mother and father. He came of fighting stock in a fighting age! In "White's Historical Collections of Georgia," there is an account of the life of Hannah Clarke, who survived her husband, Elijah Clarke, twenty years, dying at the age of 90 (in 1829.) The burning of her house by a party of British and Tories is recorded, and the turning out of herself and children while General Clarke was away.
When General Clarke was so desperately wounded at Long Cane in Carolina, she started to him and was robbed of the horse on which she was riding. On one campaign she accompanied him and when she was moving from a place of danger, the horse on which she and two of her younger children were riding was shot from under her. Later, she was at the siege of Augusta. All this time General Elijah Clarke's right hand man was young John. Being reared in the army, this boy became wild and impetuous; by nature he was intense, so when cupid's dart entered his heart it was inflamed as deeply with love as it had been with hatred for the British. His love story ends with Meredith's words, "Whom first we love, we seldom wed."
About four miles from the hill on which the little battle of Kettle Creek was fought, there lived an orphan girl, the stepdaughter of Artnial Weaver, and the youngest sister of Sabina Chivers, who married Jesse Mercer. John Clarke loved this girl, but there was opposition to the union. But as yet not knowing the meaning of the word defeat, he induced her to elope with him.
It was his thought to take her to the home of a friend of his father's, Daniel Marshall, near Kiokee, but the weather was severe, and a snowstorm set in. They were compelled to stop at a farm house where lived the mother of Major Freeman (related to Dr. S. G. Hillyer.) Miss Chivers was taken ill that night with congestion of the lungs, and died. In the absence of flowers the good woman of the house adorned the dead girl with bunches of holly, entwined them in her beautiful black hair and placed them in her clasped hands. The grave they covered with the same beautiful crimson and green holly, upon which the snow recently fell. This was the first real sorrow in the life of John Clarke and many were to follow.
To some the years come and go like beautiful dreams, and life seems only as a fairy tale that is told, yet there are natures for which this cannot be. Some hands reach forth too eagerly to cull life's sweet, fair flowers, and often grasp hidden thorns. Feet that go with quick, fearless steps are most apt to be wounded by jutting stones, and alas! John Clarke found them where 'er he went through life's bright sunlight or its shaded paths, these cruel, sharp piercing thorns; those hard, cold, hurting stones.
We next see John Clarke just before he enters into his political life. From "The History of Wilkes County," in our library, I copy the following, viz: "Micajah Williamson kept a licensed tavern in the town of Washington—on record, we find that he sold with meals, drinks as follows: Good Jamaica spirits, per gill, 2d; good Madeira wine, per bottle, 4s 8d; all white wines, per battle, 3s 6d; port, per bottle, 1s 9d; good whiskey and brandy, per gill, 6d & C. & C. at that time a shilling was really 22c., a penny 7-5 of a cent."
In front of this tavern was a large picture of George Washington hanging as a swinging sign. John Clarke used to come to town, and like most men of his day got drunk. They all did not "cut up," however, as he did on such occasions. He went into stores and smashed things generally, as tradition says, but he always came back and paid for them like a gentleman. Once he came into town intoxicated and galloped down Court street and fired through the picture of General Washington before the tavern door. This was brought up against him later when he was a candidate for governor, but his friends denied it.
Soon after this he married the oldest daughter of Micajah Williamson, while Duncan C. Campbell married the youngest.
The stirring events which followed we have all learned in history, how the state was divided into two factions, the Clarkeites and those for Crawford and Troup. The state was so evenly divided that the fight was fierce. The common people and owners of small farms were for Clarke, the "gentry" and well-to-do educated folk for Crawford, and sent him to the United States Senate. Clarke and Crawford from youth had been antagonistic. Clarke, while uneducated, was brilliantly intelligent, but deeply sensitive. Crawford was polished and of courtly bearing, a man of education, but was very overbearing. Had he lived today our public school boy would say "he was always nagging at Clarke." Be that as it may, it was nip and tuck between them in the gubernatorial campaign. Clarke fought a duel with Crawford at High Shoals, and shattered his wrist. Later he tried to get Crawford to meet him again, but he persistently refused. One ugly thing to me was the horsewhipping of Judge Tate by Governor Clarke on the streets of Milledgeville, then the capital. This did Clarke no good.
General Clarke twice defeated Mr. Troup for governor. Troup was at last elected, defeating Matthew Talbot, who was on Clarke's side in 1823. General Clarke was defeated by Talbot himself. There is never an article written about Clarke that his bad spelling is not referred to. Not long ago I read in a magazine published in Georgia that Clarke spelled coffee "kaughphy." This is not true, that honor belongs to Matthews, another one of the familiar figures once on the streets of Washington. Even the best educated of our Revolutionary heroes did not spell correctly as we call it, from George Washington down.
I rather enjoy their license for I think English spelling is a tyrannical imposition. After the defeat of Clarke the tide was against him. Many untrue things were said about him and they cut him deeply. He was misunderstood often, and in chagrin he left the state.
Rise, O Muse, in the wrath of thy rapture divine,
And sweep with a finger of fame every line
Till it tremble and burn as thine own glances burn
Through the vision thou kindlest wherein I discern
All the unconscious cruelty hid in the heart
Of mankind; all the limitless grief we impart
Unawares to each other; the limitless wrong
We inflict without need, as we hurry along
In this boisterous pastime of life.
Beneath the rough exterior there never beat a kinder heart than that in the breast of John Clarke. Although he had the brusque manner of a soldier of Revolutionary days, with those he loved he was as tender and gentle as a child. On one occasion soon after his first election to the governorship of Georgia there was a banquet given in his honor. The decorations on the white linen of the table were wreaths of holly, thought to be very beautiful and tasty. When the governor entered with his friends he stopped stock still in the doorway turning deathly pale. He ordered every piece of holly dashed from the window. The occurrence was spread far and wide all over the state and criticism ran high, and even his friends disapproved of the uncivil act of one in his high station. He never made an explanation until years afterwards.
Memories with him did not die, though beneath the ashes of the silent past. If he might call them dead, and bury them, it seems they only slept, and ere he knew, at but a word, a breath, the softest sigh, they woke once more and moved here as he thought they would not evermore. Clarke owned large tracts of land in Wilkes county (before it was cut up into other counties.) One deed is made to Wylie Pope in 1806. He reserves twenty feet where his two children are buried, Elijah Clarke and George Walton Clarke. Leaving Georgia he settled in Washington county, Florida, on the shores of the beautiful "Old Saint Andrews." Here he entertained his friends and here he spent the last ten years of his life within the sound of the restless, surging waters of the gulf. October 12th, 1832, Governor Clarke passed from this life, and eight days later his wife joined him in the Great Beyond. They were buried near the seashore in a beautiful grove of live oaks, and a marble shaft erected over them bears the following inscription:
Here reposes the remains of
John Clarke
Late Governor of Georgia
And
Nancy Clarke
His Wife
(North Face of Monument)
John Clarke
Born Feb. 28th, 1760
Died October 12th, 1832
As an officer he was vigilant and brave
As a statesman energetic and faithful
As a father and friend devoted and sincere.
(West Face)
This monument was erected by their surviving children, Ann Campbell and Wylie P. Clarke.
Not far from the monument are two little graves with flat slabs and the following inscription:
Erected to the memory of John W. and Ann W. Campbell.
Ann Hand
Born January 24th, 1823
Died Sept. 3rd, 1829
Marcus Edwin
Born Feb. 25th, 1831
Died Feb. 3rd, 1833
"Of such is the Kingdom of Heaven."
Seventy-five years have passed and the once beautiful spot is now desecrated. The oaks are cut, the tombstones are broken, and the grave of Georgia's governor is trespassed upon in a shameful manner. However, overshadowing his tomb, and keeping guard is a holly tree in all its beauty, filled with long waving wreathes of Spanish moss, and no doubt it whispers to the passing breeze that hurries on to ocean, the story of a lost love!
Aye, what is it all if this life be all
But a draught to its dregs of a cup of gall,
A bitter round of rayless years,
A saddened dole of wormwood tears,
A sorrowful plaint of the Spirit's thrall
The graves, the shroud, the funeral pall
This is the sum, if this life be all.
[PARTY RELATIONS IN ENGLAND AND THEIR EFFECT ON THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION.]
(A paper read before the Ralph Humphreys Chapter, Daughters of the American Revolution, of Jackson, Mississippi, by Dr. James Elliott Walmsley, professor of history in Millsaps College.)
George Eliot says somewhere that all beginnings are make-believes. Especially is this statement found true in attempting to trace the origin of the American Revolution. Every cause assigned is at once seen to be the effect of some more remote cause, until one might go back step by step to the liberty-loving ancestors of the early Saxons in their forest home of Northern Germany. Without undertaking any work so elaborate it is the purpose of this study to show the effects of one of these causes.
All free governments have developed parties, but as the word is used at present true political parties in England did not arise till after the wars of the Puritans and Cavaliers in the seventeenth century. The men who migrated to America, with the exception of the aristocratic element that located largely in the South between 1640 and 1660, were of the party who believed in restricting the power of the king, and were opposed by the party who professed implicit faith in the divine right of kings. By the time of the accession of William of Orange the former party was recognized by the name of Whigs, while the loyal devotees of regal infallibility were called Tories.
The first king of the Hanover line, George I, was seated on his throne through a successful piece of Whig politics, so admirably described by Thackeray in Henry Esmond, and his government was conducted by a Whig minister, Robert Walpole, assisted by a Whig cabinet. The power remained in the hands of a few families, and this condition, which amounted to an aristocratic rule of "Old Whigs," lasted down to the accession of George III, in 1760. The new king, who was destined to be the last king in America, was not like his father and grandfather, a German-speaking prince who knew nothing of England and her people, but one who gloried in the name Briton. Brought up by his mother with the fixed idea he should never forget that he was king, his ambition was to restore the autocratic power of William I. or Henry II. To attain this end he set himself to overthrow the Whig party and so recall to favor the Tories, who had by this time given up their dreams of "Bonnie Prince Charlie" and Stuart restorations.
This misguided monarch, who was a model of Christian character in private life, but who in the words of a great English historian, wrought more lasting evil to his country than any other man in its history, determined first to overthrow William Pitt, the elder, the greatest statesman that the English speaking race has ever produced—that man who sat in his room in London and planned campaigns in the snow covered mountains of Silesia and the impassable swamps of Prussia, on the banks of the Hugli in India and on the Plain of Abraham in Canada, in the spicy islands of the East Indies and the stormy waters of the Atlantic, who brought England from the depths of lowest dejection to a point where the gifted Horace Walpole could say in 1759, "We must inquire each morning what new victory we should celebrate." This great man was overthrown by the king in 1761, and there came into power the extreme Tory wing, known as the "king's friends," whose only rule of political guidance was the royal wish. These men, led by the Earl of Bute, followed the king on one of the wildest, maddest courses that English partisan politics has known.
At this point we must pause and examine the constitution of the British Empire. England, Scotland, and Wales were governed by their own Parliament, but so defective was the method of representation that villages which had formerly flourished but had now fallen into decay or even like Old Sarum, were buried under the waves of the North Sea, still returned their two members to Parliament, while important cities like Manchester, Leeds, and Birmingham, which had grown up in the last hundred years, were entirely unrepresented. The Whigs in England, as least the New Whigs, the progressive element, were contending for the same principle of representation that inspired the Americans. In addition to the home-land, England ruled, as colonies, Ireland, the Isle of Man, the Channel Islands, sea fortresses, such as Gibraltar and Malta, Asiatic possessions, including in India an empire twenty times as populous as the ruling country, Canada, Jamaica, the Barbadoes, the Thirteen Colonies, etc. Our own thirteen colonies, which were not united among themselves and which were not different in the eyes of an Englishman from any other of the colonies, formed a small part geographically of the empire and had for their peculiar distinction only the larger proportion of English residents.
Furthermore, the modern idea of governing colonies for the welfare of the colonies had not yet been invented. A colony was considered as a farm or any other wealth producing piece of property. Adam Smith's epoch-making work, "The Wealth of Nations," the first serious attempt to discuss Political Economy, was not published till 1776, and in his chapter on colonies he for the first time proposed the doctrine of removing restrictions and allowing to colonies free trade and free government. It is significant of the contentions of this article that Adam Smith's book was at once read and quoted in Parliament by the leaders of the Whigs, especial attention being given to it by the young William Pitt, who was described by an enthusiastic Whig as "not a chip of the old block but the old block itself."
With this preliminary statement we can take up the course of party relations. One of the first distinctively party acts of George's reign was the Stamp Act passed against the active opposition of the Whigs; and the downfall of the Grenville ministry and the accession of the Marquis of Rockingham, the Whig prime minister, marked by the repeal of this act in 1766. In the next year, however, the Rockingham ministry fell, and Townshend, the moving spirit in the succeeding administration, carried through the series of acts that led directly to the Boston Tea Party and its momentous results.
Finally when George III, who openly proclaimed himself a Tory, succeeded in becoming supreme in the government, he called into office, in 1770, Lord George North, who for twelve years was the king's tool in carrying out a policy which he disliked. It was only his "lazy good nature and Tory principles," which led him to defer to the king's judgment and advocate the doctrine, in a far different sense from the present meaning of the words, that "the king can do no wrong." From this day it was natural that the Whigs in opposition should oppose the government measures and should identify the cause of free government in America with that in England and that every New Whig should become an enthusiastic supporter of the American contentions. In fact George and the Tory party realized that if the American theory of taxation conditioned on representation prevailed it would be necessary to yield to the demand of the New Whigs for reform in the representation in England.
This fact explains some intricate points in the politics of the time. It shows for instance why we fought a war with England and then in securing a treaty of peace conspired with our enemy, England, to wrest more favorable terms from our ally, France. We fought a Tory England, but Lord North's ministry fell when the news of Yorktown came, and we made a treaty of peace with a whig England, and the Whigs were our friends. The Whigs in Parliament spoke of the American army as "our army," Charles Fox spoke of Washington's defeat as the "terrible news from Long Island," and Wraxall says that the famous buff and blue colors of the Whig party were adopted from the Continental uniform. Even the "Sons of Liberty" took their name from a phrase struck out by Colonel Barre, the comrade of Wolfe at Quebec, in the heat of a parliamentary debate.
Illustrations of this important point might be multiplied, but it may be better to take up more minutely the career of one man and show how the conflict of Whig and Tory politics affected the actual outcome of the struggle. Lord George Howe was the only British officer who was ever really loved by the Americans, and there is to-day in Westminster Abbey a statue erected to his memory by the people of Massachusetts. After his death at Ticonderoga in 1758 his mother issued an address to the electors of Nottingham asking that they elect her youngest son William to Parliament in his place. William Howe, known in American history as General Howe, considered himself as the successor of his brother and as the especial friend of the Americans. When war was threatened in 1774 he told his constituents that on principle the Americans were right and that if he were appointed to go out against them he would as a loyal Whig refuse. Of course this was a reckless statement, for an officer in the army can not choose whom he will fight. He was put in supreme command in America when General Gage was recalled, but was directed by his government to carry the olive branch in one hand. That he obeyed this command, which was to his own liking, even too literally, is easily established.
There is one almost unwritten chapter in American history which I would like to leave in oblivion, but candor demands its settlement. Our people were not as a whole enthusiastic over the war, in many sections a majority were opposed to it, those who favored it were too often half-hearted in their support. Had the men of America in 1776 enlisted and served in the same proportion in which the men of the Southern States did in 1861, when fighting for their "independence," Washington would have had at all times over 60,000 in his army. As a matter of fact there never were as many as 25,000 in active service at any one time, the average number was about 4,000, and at certain critical times he had not over 1,000. General Knox's official figures of 252,000 are confessedly inaccurate, and by including each separate short enlistment make up the total enlistment for the six years, sometimes counting the same man as often as five times. At the very time when Washington's men were starving and freezing at Valley Forge the country people were hauling provisions past the camp and selling them to the British in Philadelphia.
Much more might be said, but enough for a disagreeable subject. No careful historian to-day will deny that considering the lack of support given to Washington and his army, the Revolution could have been crushed in the first year, long before the French alliance was a possibility, had the English shown one-half the ability of the administration in the recent South African War. Among the causes assignable for this state of incompetence the political situation deserves more attention than it has hitherto been given.
No one has ever explained Howe's inexcusable carelessness in letting Washington escape after Long Island, no one can explain his foolish inactivity during the succeeding winter, except by the fact that Howe was a Whig, his sympathies were with the Americans, the Whigs had said repeatedly that the Americans could hold out against a good army and it seemed now that they were helping fulfill their own prophecy.
It is rarely stated in our American histories that Howe was investigated by a committee of Parliament after his evacuation of Philadelphia, that he was severely condemned for not assisting Burgoyne and for not capturing Washington's starving handful of men at Valley Forge, that Joseph Galloway, the noted American loyalist, who was a member of the first Continental Congress, openly accused him of being in league with a large section of Whigs to let the Revolution go by default and to give America its independence, and that immediately after his return to England he resumed his seat in Parliament and spoke and worked in opposition to the king and in behalf of the Americans.
The case of General Howe is typical and can be duplicated in the other departments of the government. The leading Tory ministers claimed that the rebellion would have failed but for the sympathy in the House of Commons, and this charge was made in the very House itself.
It would be a gross exaggeration to say that our Revolution was merely the result of a party quarrel in England, but the unfortunate party attitude of King George III. certainly was one of the most potent causes of trouble, and the progress of the war reacted most strongly on the party situation in England. When William Pitt, the younger, at the age of twenty-five took into his hands the premiership of England in December 1783, he did it as the representative of the English people, and the revolution which began in this country was completed in the English Parliament. Up to 1776 the history of America and England flowed in the same channel, Shakespeare, Chaucer, and Pitt are ours as much as England's, and it should always be remembered that just when the countries were in the act of separating the system of George III. was shaken off and shattered by the free people of the two great Anglo-Saxon powers, and the Whig statesmen of England could join with their party friends in America in welcoming a new self-governing people to the council of nations.—American Monthly Magazine.
[EARLY MEANS OF TRANSPORTATION BY LAND AND WATER.]
The facilities for conveniently carrying persons or property from one place to another affects in a measure the physical welfare of every human being, and all progressive nations desire to secure the advantages to be derived from the best systems of transportation. This country of ours has tried many experiments and been rapidly benefited in the results obtained. It hardly seems to us possible, in this day of improved and rapid travel, that the entire system of transportation is still in the transition state, and in some parts of the country the very expedients which we have tried, improved upon and cast away, are at present in use. But our topic deals with other days than these, and we must hasten back to the beginning of things here in America.
According to Indian tradition, it is believed that within a brief period prior to the discovery of America by Columbus, the Indians had travelled over a large portion of the country between the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, and were familiar with the topographical features of the continent. Their frequent wars and their long continuance in the hunter state, made them necessarily a migratory race and their pathways were the first trails for the white settlers when they came. When we travel over crooked roads and even crooked streets in our towns, how many of us stop to think that we are travelling the same road as blazed out for us by an Indian or trodden down for us by an early settler's straying cow?
As the Indian, as a guide through the almost impenetrable forests was of great aid to the early settlers, so also was the canoe of the Indian a great service. Of course the white man crossed the ocean in larger boats, but when it came to travelling from point to point, after reaching America, the lighter craft of the Indians was the only possible means of water travel, for the numerous falls or rapids, and the frequent portages between distinct water systems, made the use of a heavy boat impossible. These canoes were of birch bark, buffalo skin, stretched over wooden frames, or even large trees felled, the trunk cut into sections and split, then hollowed out by burning first and the ashes scooped out with the hands or pieces of shell, until the sides and bottom were reduced to the utmost thinness consistent with buoyancy and security. The method of propelling these canoes was usually by paddle, but some had sails. The size varied from twelve feet to forty feet in length, and they were capable of carrying from two to forty men. Of course the larger canoes were used principally for state occasions, military purposes, or when large stores of supplies were to be transported.
One old historian tells of the way the sails were used. The Indian stood in the bow of the canoe and with his hands held up two corners of his blanket, and the other two corners were either fastened to his ankles or simply placed under each foot, while in the stern of the canoe, the squaw sat and steered. The scheme was an ingenious one and must have been a grateful change to the poor squaw, who otherwise would have had to propel the canoe by means of the paddle.
Of the Indian canoe Longfellow says:
The forest's life was in it,
All its mystery and its magic,
All the lightness of the birch tree,
All the toughness of the cedar'
All the larch's supple sinews;
And it floated on the river
Like a yellow leaf in Autumn,
Like a yellow water lily.
On account of the dense forests and the difficulty experienced in penetrating them, the early settlements were upon the banks of streams and consequently the water channels and seaports, for communication between the various settlements, as well as with the mother country, were a necessity and the very first legislation with regard to transportation related to boats, canoes and landings. It was a long time before any internal development of the land took place, because these waterways formed the main reliance for all movements of persons or property. Each of the thirteen original colonies had one or more seaports and the main current of trade, during the colonial period, and in fact up to much later times, was between these ports and the interior districts on the one hand, and the outer world and the ocean on the other. Commerce between the colonies was limited and all movements from one colony to another were by various kinds of sea going vessels. All the boats subsequently built by the European settlers showed the influence of the Indian canoe. The raft was another method of the Indian for transporting property, and from this grew the various kinds of floatboats. The raft itself is still in use but more as a means of transporting the lumber of which it is composed than as a means for carrying other freight.
For land travel, when the Indians had burdens to carry they did it by means of the burden strap, an arrangement of leather bands which fitted around the forehead and was lashed to a litter borne upon the back. It was usually about fifteen feet in length and braided into a belt in the center, three or four inches wide. This carrying of burdens upon the back is the one method of transportation which combines the greatest amount of human effort with the least practical effect. But it was at the time the only method available and formed one of the most serious privations and discomforts of savage life.
It is recorded in the case of a white man, who helped the Indians in one of their wars, early in 1600, that he was wounded and could not walk. Thereupon he was placed in a basket of wicker work, doubled up, and fastened with cords until he could scarcely move, and so carried upon the backs of Indians for several days.
In winter we are told they had some sort of primitive sledges, and they used dogs in some sections. Then, of course, they had the snow shoe, which, to them, was a rapid way of travelling, but when the poor white explorers or captives travelled with the Indians on winter expeditions, they suffered sharply until they caught the hang of it. Chilblains were not the worst of the suffering, for the tie over the instep and the loops over the toes caused friction, and bleeding, frozen feet were the result.
When the white man came, he, in time, brought horses and these were much appreciated by the Indians, who seemed to know intuitively how to manage and use them. In place of carrying burdens upon his own back, the red man fastened one end of his tent poles to the horse and fastened upon them the skins which composed his tent, and allowed the poles to trail upon the ground. This support furnished a method of transporting baggage, household effects and even women and children vastly superior to the old way.
The old trails of the red man, over which for many years they had traveled with their peculiar but rapid walk, now furnished bridle paths for the white man and his horse, and many of those bridle paths are today in use. Of course, the first sturdy settlers walked these trails as did the Indians, and we have the history of one journey of Governor Winthrop, when he was carried, at least over streams, "pick-a-pack" upon the back of an Indian. This is a very human, if undignified, picture of the worthy governor.
An early explorer in Virginia said that had she "but horses and kine and were inhabited with English, no realm in Christendom were comparable to it." As these blessings were all added to Virginia in course of time, we must believe her the fairest of colonies. As the Indians were too poor to buy the carefully guarded horses of the early settlers, and could not steal them, they were compelled to wait until races of wild horses were developed from the horses brought to Florida, Mexico and California by the Spaniards. The better grade of horse was used by the warrior and for travel, but the poorer horses for the drudgery and were quite naturally called "squaw ponies." In the early days before the carriage was introduced, wounded or sick persons were carried upon stretchers between two horses.
The early means of transportation on land, in the colonies, was by horseback, for either persons or property, and this was the universal method of travel until nearly the beginning of the 19th century. It was a common custom for the post rider to also act as a squire of dames, and sometimes he would have in charge four or six women travelling on horseback from one town to another. It was to the north that the carriage came first, and in the early days only the very wealthy families had them. And with the coming of the carriage, the colonists realized that they needed something better than an Indian trail or bridle path, and the agitation for good roads had its birth. One can form some idea of what the so-called roads must have been in 1704, when we read that the mail from Philadelphia to New York "is now a week behind and not yet com'd in." The mail after 1673 was carried by horseback between New York and Boston, but as late as 1730, the postmaster was advertising for applications from persons who desired to perform the foot post to Albany that winter. The route was largely up the Hudson river on skates. In 1788 it took four days for mail to go through from New York to Boston in good weather—in winter much longer.
The commerce between the settlements on the coast and those in southwestern Pennsylvania and western Virginia was carried on by pack horse. The people in these districts sent their peltry and furs by pack horse to the coast and there exchanged them for such articles as they needed in their homes and for work upon their farms. Several families would form an association, a master-driver would be chosen and the caravan move on its slow way to the settlement east of the mountains. Afterwards this pack horse system was continued by common carrier organizations.
The earliest legislation in reference to highways was in the Massachusetts Bay Colony in 1639, providing for supervisors, and the relaying of the roads so as to be more convenient for travel, with authority to "lay out the highways where they may be most convenient, notwithstanding any man's property, or any corne ground, so as it occasion not the pulling down of any man's house, or laying open any garden or orchard." The law in force in Pennsylvania, prior to the grant to Penn was part of the system established for the New York Colony in 1664. In 1700 a revision of existing road laws was made, giving control of county roads to county officials, but the king's highway and public roads to be controlled by governor and council.
The fact appears that while the early roads in the American colonies were bad, England had few, if any, good roads, and the improvement, when begun, was so rapid that driving for pleasure was introduced here long before it was known in England. In fact, the idea was carried back to England by officers who fought in the Revolution.
When stage coaches were started in the colonies in 1718, from Boston to Rhode Island, there was no wagon road over this route, it not being built until 1721. It was a common thing for the passengers of the early stage coaches to have to get out, and help lift or push the stage coach out of the mud, and the objection raised to this was the reason for the introduction of the corduroy road. If one has had the doubtful pleasure of riding over a short portion of such road, one knows that it was a question whether long stretches of it and being shaken around in the coach like peas in a pod, was much improvement over being dumped out into the mud, while the coach was lifted out of the mire with which the old roads were padded. With the development of stage routes, came bridges, ferries, turnpikes and national roads. As the passengers and light baggage were carried by stage, the freight traffic was carried on by the old time teamsters, with their huge wagons, with six or eight horses attached to each, and moving along the turnpikes, traveling together for company and protection. These turnpikes presented a bustling appearance, with the dashing stage coaches, parties on horseback, the long trains of teamsters' huge wagons, and the many taverns that lined these thoroughfares. The passenger on the stage coach had time to study nature and his surroundings as he passed along, and to be fortunate enough to secure the box seat with the stage driver and hear, as one rode along, the gossip of the route, made a joy one does not experience in our days of rapid travel.
Following the institution of national roads and staging, came the introduction of canals and artificial waterways, as a means of transportation for freight in the carrying on of commerce. A short canal, for the transporting of stone, was built in Orange County, New York, as early as 1750. The first public canal company was the James River Company, incorporated in 1785. From that time on there have been vast improvements in methods and much of our freight is moved by means of the large canals all over our country.
The next development in transportation facilities was the railroad, the first of which was the "Experiment" railroad built to carry stone to Bunker Hill Monument. Oliver Evans, in 1772, began to experiment upon the construction of a steam carriage to run upon the ground, but it remained for John Stevens to combine the steam carriage and the railway. The first rail cars, or coaches, were run by horse power. It is interesting to read Mr. Evans' prediction, which is as follows:
"I do verily believe that the time will come when carriages propelled by steam will be in general use, as well for the transportation of passengers as goods, travelling at the rate of fifteen miles an hour, or three hundred miles per day." In 1813 he predicted that the time would come when a traveller could leave Washington in the morning, breakfast at Baltimore, dine at Philadelphia and sup at New York, all in the same day, travelling "almost as fast as birds fly, fifteen to twenty-miles an hour."
In 1811, Robert Fulton, journeying by stage to Pittsburgh, said, "The day will come, gentlemen, I may not live to see it, though some of you who are younger will probably—when carriages will be drawn over these mountains by steam engines at a rate more rapid than that of a stage on the smoothest turnpike."
A howl of protest went up from the old stage drivers when the railroad was projected, but as every public necessity had its will, the railroads had come to stay. There were many accidents on these primitive roads, and these were made the most of by the opposition. One old stager said, "You got upset in a stage coach, and there you were. You got upset in a rail car—and where are you?"
From trail in the days of the Indians to T-rail of recent years seems a slow, tedious advance, but as some one has said:
"When we reflect upon the obstinate opposition that has been made by a great majority to every step towards improvement; from bad roads to turnpikes, from turnpikes to canals, from canal to railways for horse carriages, it is too much to expect the monstrous leap from bad roads to railways for steam carriages at once. One step in a generation is all we can hope for."—Clara D. Patterson, Easton, Pennsylvania.
[COLONEL BENJAMIN HAWKINS.]
By Mrs. J. L. Walker, Waycross.
Colonel Hawkins, patriot, soldier, United States senator and Indian agent, was born August 15, 1754, in the county of Butts, now Warren County, North Carolina. He was the son of Colonel Philemon and Delia Hawkins. He attended Princeton College until his senior year when the institution was closed on account of the Revolutionary War.
His knowledge of the French language led Washington to press him into service as a member of his staff to act as interpreter with the French allies. He was one of the founders of the Society of Cincinnati in 1783.
He was a gallant Revolutionary soldier, having participated in several important engagements, among the number the Battle of Monmouth. After North Carolina ratified the federal constitution he was elected United States Senator from that state, taking his seat in 1790. At the close of his term in the senate he was appointed agent of the three great Indian tribes east of the Mississippi and entered upon his duties in the part of Georgia now known as Crawford County, but at that time called "The Agency Reserve."
This place became an important trading post and was selected by Colonel Hawkins as a convenient locality for the transaction of duties that devolved upon him. He infused progression, activity and thrift into the little village. Mills, workshops, and comfortable homes appeared on every side.
"Colonel Hawkins brought his own slaves from his old home in North Carolina, and under the right conceded to his office, he opened and cultivated a large plantation at the agency, making immense crops of corn and other provisions."
"While he lived his cattle brand was rigidly respected by the red men; although soon as his death, if reports be true, the Creeks, oblivious of former obligations, stole numbers of his cows and hogs."
To him does the state of Georgia owe a debt of special gratitude. He not only risked his life for the state of his adoption, but preserved the history of the Creek country, some of which is most valuable and interesting.
The French general, Moreau, who in exile, was his guest for some time, was so much impressed with his character and labors, that he pronounced him one of the most remarkable men he met in America.
Colonel Hawkins possessed great adaptability and through his beneficence he acquired the respect of the Indians. It is said he gained their love and bound them to him by "ties as loyal and touching as those of old feudal allegiance and devotion."
He was closely associated with Generals Floyd, Blackshear and John McIntosh, and Governors Troup, Mitchell and Early.
The Indians of Chehaw were closely allied to Colonel Hawkins. They frequently furnished him with valuable information in regard to the treachery of the British and the unfriendly Indians.
It has been conceded to some of our patriots that they were great in war. Benjamin Hawkins was not only great in war, but, like Washington, was great in peace. It was he who most strongly advocated terminating the War of 1812. He knew well how to approach the "children of the forest." The simple and diplomatic way in which he addressed the Indians is displayed in his quaint letter to the Ammic-cul-le, who lived at the Indian town of Chehaw:
"The time is come when we are to compel our enemies to be at peace, that we may be able to sit down and take care of our families and property without being disturbed by their threatening and plundering of us.
"General Blackshear is with you to protect and secure the friendly Indians on your river, and to aid in punishing the mischief-makers. Go you to him; see him; take him by the hand, and two of you must keep him. You must point out sixty of your young warriors, under two chiefs, to be with, and act under the orders of the general till you see me. He will supply them with provisions and some ammunition.
"You must be very particular about spies. You know all the friendly Indians, and all who are hostile. If any spies come about you of the hostiles, point them out to the general. And your warriors, acting with the general must be as quick and particular as his white soldiers to apprehend or put to death any enemy you meet with. Your warriors will receive the same pay as the soldiers in the service of the United States.
"Tell your women and children not to be afraid,—that friends have come for their protection, and that I am at the head of the Creek warriors.
"I am your friend and the friend of your nation."
Colonel Hawkins was closely identified in the negotiation of the Treaty of Peace and Friendship with the Indians. His name, together with George Clymer and Andrew Pickens, was signed as commissioners on the part of the United States to the Treaty held at Coleraine, in Camden County, Georgia, March 18, 1797.
A treaty of limits between the United States and the Creek nation of Indians, was held near Milledgeville, at Fort Wilkinson, on the part of the United States. The signers were Benjamin Hawkins and Andrew Pickens. This treaty was signed by forty chiefs and warriors. Treaty with the Creeks at the agency, near Flint River, on November 3, 1794, signed by Hopoie Micco and other Indians, also bore Hawkins' signature.
"In 1802 Colonel Hawkins recommended the establishing of a fort and trading post on the Old Ocmulgee Fields." The right to establish such a post was obtained by the Fort Wilkinson treaty. Colonel Hawkins selected a site on an eminence near the river where the city of Macon now stands. A tract of one hundred acres of land was set apart for the use of the post.
Fort Hawkins was built in 1806 and was garrisoned by troops from Fort Wilkinson early in the following year. The fort was named in honor of Benjamin Hawkins, one of the few honors bestowed upon him by the state he had so ably served. "This fort was considered one of the most formidable on the frontier. Two block houses, each twenty-eight feet square with two stories and a basement were built with heavy mortised logs. This place was provided with port holes for both cannon and musketry, and stood at the southeast and northwest corner of a strong stockade. During the war of 1812 the fort was a strong point for the mobilization of troops."
Colonel Hawkins died at the agency in Crawford County, June 6, 1816, and was "buried on a wooded bluff overlooking the Flint River." The little graveyard that served as a last resting place for those who lived around the agency has long since been abandoned. The unmarked grave of a patriot is there, sleeping unhonored amid the tangled vines and weeds.
[GOVERNOR JARED IRWIN.]
Jared Irwin was born in Mecklenburg, N. C., in 1750, about two years after his parents arrived from Ireland. They emigrated from Mecklenburg County, N. C., and came to Burke County, Georgia, when Jared was seven years old. Years afterward Jared moved to Washington County.
He was a faithful soldier in the Indian wars, serving as a Brigadier-General in the Georgia Militia. In the Revolutionary War he served as Captain and afterwards as Colonel, fighting in the siege of Savannah and Augusta and in the battles of Camden, S. C., Briar Creek, Georgia, Black Swamp, and others.
Just after the first siege of Augusta, in 1780, Colonel Williamson was placed in command of Colonel Clarke's forces and on April 16th, 1781, he led them to Augusta and fortified his camp within twelve hundred yards of the British works. Here Captain Dun, and Captain Irwin with the Burke County men, joined him, where they guarded every approach to Augusta for nearly four weeks, never for a moment relaxing their vigilance, but waiting impatiently for the promised assistance from General Greene.
At last, the militia, destitute of almost every necessity of life, wearied of their hard service, and giving up all hope of aid, determined to return to their homes. The encouragement of Colonel Jackson roused their drooping spirits, inspired them with hope and courage, and saved them from tarnishing the laurels they had already won. The militia afterwards nobly did their part in all the fights around Augusta.
Jared with his three brothers John, William, and Alexander, built a fort in Washington County known as Fort Irwin, which was used as a defence against the British and with his private money he equipped his company of soldiers for the war.
Jane, the Governor's youngest child, received a claim through our great members, Alexander H. Stephens and Robt. Toombs, in the United States Congress, to the amount of ten thousand dollars for money expended by her father in the defence of his section of the country in time of the Revolutionary War.
Jared Irwin represented Washington County in the Legislature and was President of the State Senate at different times from 1790 to 1818. He was in the Convention for revising our Constitution in 1789, and was president of the body which revised it in 1798. At the close of the war of Independence he was a member of the Legislature that convened under our present form of government.
In 1796, the Legislature assembled in Louisville, then the Capitol of Georgia, and on the second day of the session, January 17th, he was elected Governor. The Legislature at once took up the Yazoo Act over which the State was greatly excited.
A committee of investigation pronounced it not binding on the State on account of the fraud used to obtain it. James Jackson introduced a bill known as the "Rescinding Act." This was at once passed by both houses and signed by Gov. Irwin, Feby. 13th, 1796.
It was resolved to burn the papers of the Yazoo Act and thus purge the records of everything relating to it. So on Feby. 15th, 1796, wood was piled in front of the State House, and, in the presence of Gov. Irwin and both branches of the Legislature, fire was kindled by the use of a lens and the records and documents were burned "with a consuming fire from heaven."
After the death of General James Jackson, United States Senator, Governor Milledge was elected to fill his place by the Legislature at an extra session held in June, 1806, and in September following tendered his resignation as Governor. In this way, Jared Irwin, President of the Senate, again became Governor, and when the Legislature met in November he was elected to that office for a full term, thus filling the Governor's chair from the 23rd of September, 1806, to the 7th of November, 1809.
His administration as Governor was distinguished for justice and impartiality. The spotless purity of his character, his affable disposition, his widespread benevolence and hospitality, made him the object of general affection. To the poor and distressed he was benefactor and friend.
In every position of public life, as a soldier, a statesman and a patriot, the public good was the object and the end of his ambition, and his death was lamented as a national calamity.
Governor Irwin married Isabella Erwin, his cousin, and they had four children, Thomas, John, Elizabeth and Jane. Thomas was among the nine in the first class that graduated from the University of Georgia on Thursday, May 31st, 1804, and had a speaker's place at Commencement. Jane the youngest child, lived and died an old maid; she said she would not marry for fear that the Irwin name might run out. She was spirited, a good talker, and affable in her manner, a patriotic, whole-souled, noble woman.
Governor Irwin died on March 1st., 1818, at the age of sixty-eight and was buried at his home at Union Hill, in Washington County.
In 1856 there was an appropriation by the Georgia Legislature to erect a monument to his memory; and in 1860, a Committee consisting of Colonel R. L. Warthen, Captain S. A. H. Jones and Colonel J. W. Rudisill, was appointed to select a site for same. It was decided to erect the monument in Sandersville, Ga., the county site of Washington County; and here it still stands on Court House square—a shaft of pure white marble—a gift from the State to the memory of her noble son who gave his life, love and ability to his beloved Georgia, "Empire State of the South."—Governor Jared Irwin Chapter, D. A. R.
[EDUCATION OF MEN AND WOMEN OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION.]
By Mrs. DeB. Randolph Keim.
Regent Berks County, Reading Pa., Chapter and Honorary Vice-President General, D. A. R.
Again you are assembled to do honor to the memory of George Washington, Commander-in-Chief of the Continental armies during the war for Independence, this being the one hundred and seventy-ninth anniversary of his birth.
The first steps to the establishment of a school of systematic education of young men was William and Mary College, of Williamsburgh, the capital of Virginia, in 1617, twenty-six years before the foundation of Harvard in Massachusetts. But the character of the former was not granted until 1693, or fifty years after. The first common school established by legislation in America was in Massachusetts, in 1645, but the first town school was opened at Hartford, Conn., before 1642, and I feel proud to say I graduated from this same school over two hundred years later, then known as the Hartford Latin Grammar School and later Hartford Boys' and Girls' High School.
The only established schools of higher learning in America after William and Mary in Virginia and Harvard in Massachusetts for the education of young men later prominent in the Revolution were: St. John's, Annapolis, Md., 1696; Yale, New Haven, Conn., 1701; University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, 1740; Princeton, N. J., 1746; Washington and Lee, Lexington, Va., 1749; Columbia, New York, 1754.
Only the sons of men of means could avail themselves of these advantages. Therefore the great mass of those who became more or less prominent picked up whatever they knew as best they could. In Virginia, Patrick Henry, Washington and others had the limited opportunity and means of the old "Field or Plantation School" which was the only road to the rudest forms of knowledge. These were generally taught by men of fair education, but adventurous life, who were paid by the planters within a radius of eight or ten miles.
A notorious pedagogue, by the suggestive name Hobby, celebrated in Virginia annals for the brisk coercive switching of the backs of his "boys" as the most effective road to knowledge, is made famous in history as the rudimentary educator of the great man whose beginning of life's journey dates from this day. Washington's parents having removed from the place of his birth when a child resided within a journey of thirteen miles of the despotic jurisdiction of Hobby, and thither the boy walked or rode daily except Sundays in all kinds of weather, even being obliged to row across the Rappahannock River to Fredericksburg, where this vigorous applier of the ferrule held forth.
At eleven years, the death of Washington's father put an end to even this limited supply of "schooling." But the young man fortunately had a mother who was one of the few educated women of that period. We learn from a primitive record that Mary Ball, the name of Washington's mother, was educated by a young man graduated from Oxford, England, and sent over to be assistant to the rector of the Episcopal parish in which she lived. At the age of fifteen she could read, write and spell. In a letter preserved she wrote to a young lady friend: "He (her tutor) teaches Sister Susie and me and Madame Carter's boy and two girls. I am now learning pretty fast."
It was Governor Berkeley who, in a letter to his friends in England, boastingly "thanked God that there were no schools and printing in Virginia."
Washington was always methodical, and what he undertook was done well. This trait he inherited from his mother, as she was a woman worthy of imitation. From her stern disciplinary character and pious convictions her son learned self-control and all the characteristics of address and balance, which carried him through the most intricate and discouraging experiences of his career.
The tastes of Washington in childhood were instinctively military; all his amusements pointed that way. At twenty-one his first mission to the French at le Boeuf, fixed his career as a fearless man of action. The rescue of Braddock's Regulars from destruction by the savages was his baptism of fire; the rest, a manifestation of human greatness put the stamp of military prowess upon him. Virginia furnished more of the leaders of the first rank in the contest with the Crown than any other one colony, and yet some of the men who contributed most to the incisive work of the conflict had few opportunities of education.
For instance, Patrick Henry, who electrified the issue in his famous epigram which struck the fulminate of the combat for independence: "Caesar had his Brutus, Charles the First his Cromwell and George the Third" (Treason, treason being shouted), rejoined, "if this be treason, make the most of it." This same authority, being criticised by aristocratic loyalists for his lack of education, replied: "Naiteral pairts are more acount than all the book lairning on the airth."
Thomas Jefferson, on the other hand, was a man of higher education. The private schoolhouse ten feet square on the Tuckahoe plantation, thirteen miles west of Richmond, in which Thomas Jefferson and his kinsman, Thomas Marr Randolph, were educated, in part by a private tutor, was in a good state of preservation when I had the pleasure of visiting Tuckahoe at the time of the international review at Hampton Roads.
What we today call free school education began in a simple form under the Quakers of Philadelphia in the earliest years of the Provincial government of Penn, the first proprietary. Thomas Holme in bad rhyme and not much better grammar tells about these schools in 1696. In what the Germans would call the hinterland the school was at a low ebb. There being no towns there were no facilities to get enough scholars together to make the pay of a teacher worth the while. The Germans, the dominant element, when educated at all, were under the tuition of teachers of parochial schools of the evangelical denominations and sects of their own, frequently pastors or missionaries in the language of the Fatherland. In Pennsylvania among the emigrants who came over in colonies there was a preacher and a schoolmaster. This was particularly so among the Dutch, Swedes and Germans. The English Quakers began schools in Philadelphia very soon after the foundation of that town. In the interior schools were rare as the settlements were scattered.
Reading was not founded until 1748, therefore education had not made headway at the time when the men prominent in Berks affairs during the Revolution were at the educational age. Yet those who figured during that period in prominent places held their own with any of their city contemporaries. Among the people generally, according to the oath of allegiance list, handwriting was evidently not widespread, judging from the number of "his (cross) mark," substituted for signatures in 1777-1778.
In 1714 Christopher Dock, a German, opened a school at Skippach, below what is now Pottstown, about thirty miles from this large assemblage of educated young ladies. Christopher Dock was a man of real learning, unexcelled by any outside of Pennsylvania in his time. His "Schule Ordnung" written in 1750 and printed by Christopher Sauer, of Germantown, 1770, was the first treatise on education produced in type in the American colonies. The leaders in the German emigration prior to the American Revolution were often men of the highest scholastic training.
In New England began the earliest systematic preliminaries and expansion in the line of schooling. It has the honor, as I have shown, of founding the second institution of higher learning which survives today. James Otis, Samuel and John Adams, foremost agitators on the legal technicalities of opposition to England, were the best types of the output of New England's educational opportunities of the times.
It is one of the greatest tributes to our forefathers that with these limited and more frequently rude means of getting an education there should have been so many examples of brain and culture to meet the educational requirements of the conflict with the British Crown, the preparation of documents which stood the most critical scrutiny, and as well the preparation and negotiating of correspondence, conventions and treaties to compare favorably with the most advanced university educated statesmen of the Old World.
What I have said applies to men, but what about the young women of the same period? Except in the few largest towns where some enterprising woman was courageous enough of her own volition to establish a school for young ladies, the education of women was not considered of importance. The Moravians were the first and most notable exceptions. The seminary at Bethlehem, almost in sight of where we are now gathered, was famous in Revolutionary days.
In New York and Philadelphia there was an occasional fashionable "school" for young ladies.
Abigail Smith, who became wife of John Adams, one of the earliest agitators and leaders of the contest, one of the committee that drafted the Declaration of Independence, first Vice-President and second President of the United States, was a woman of education. Being the daughter of a Congregational preacher and having a taste for books, her father devoted much care to her instruction.
As John Adams, on account of his radical patriotism was the man the British authorities most feared, and were looking for, the letters of Mrs. Adams to her husband and his replies are valuable contributions to American history.
They were perfect in writing, spelling, grammar and composition. I may add, though, of a date long after, history is indebted to her letters to her daughter for the only eye witness account we have of the trials and tribulations of the journey of the President's family from Philadelphia to Washington, in the fall of 1800, then the new seat of government, getting lost in the woods and taking possession of the unfinished President's palace, as it was called, without firewood during bleak November days and nights with no looking glasses, lamps, nor anything else to make a President's wife comfortable.
As a rule, young women were not educated in books, but taught to sew, knit, spin, weave, cook, wash, iron and perform all other household requirements. Her value in the scale of life was in proportion as she was skilled in the duties of a housewife. This was the real type of womanhood in those days, and should always be, with a cultivated mind added.
When we read of their heroic maintenance of the home, care and training of children, management of the farm, sale of its products and often facing hardships in keeping the wolf from the door, while husbands, sons and brothers were fighting for liberty and independence, we care not whether they could read, write, spell, cast up accounts or not, but think of their woman's contribution to the success of the contest.
It is positive that the fathers of the Revolution would not have been successful but for the women, perhaps uneducated in books but competent and self-sacrificing in maintaining the home, while the men were fighting for liberty and free exercise of all its enjoyments. If this great nation is a testimonial of what women without the aid of books contributed in laying the foundation, what must now be expected of women having every advantage of education from kindergarten and primary schools to the woman's college?
I might mention sixteen colleges now exclusively devoted to the education of young women in New York, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, Maryland, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, Ohio, and Illinois with a roll of eight thousand young women students.
The first seniority is Mount Holyoke, Mass., founded in 1837, having 755 scholars; the largest is Smith College, Northampton, Mass., 1,620 young women; next Wellesley, Mass., 1,375, and Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania, 1,125. To show the difference between now and the days of our revolutionary fathers, the school houses were built of logs, one story high, with bark roofs and puncheon or dirt floors, which on account of incessant tramping usually became covered several inches deep with dust. The teacher sat in the center of the room.
In the log walls around were driven wooden pegs upon which were laid boards that formed the desks. The seats were rough stools or logs. All sat with backs to the teacher. The windows to admit light were fitted with white paper greased with lard instead of glass. The boy scholars wore leather or dried skin aprons and buckskin tunics and leggins, when they could not get woven materials. And the girls, coarsely woven flax or wool bodices, skirts, kerchiefs, and aprons and footwear of wood, coarse leather, not a few going barefoot.
The writing equipment in Revolutionary days consisted of ink which was of home manufacture from an ink powder, quills and a pen knife, cutting pens from goose quills being an art. The rest of the materials were paper, pumice, a rule, wax, and black sand, shaken from a pepper box arrangement, instead of blotting paper.
The earliest method of teaching before school text-books were known was by what was termed the hornbook, a tablet of wood about 5 by 2 inches upon which was fastened a paper sheet containing the alphabet in capitals and small letters across the top and simple syllables like, ab, ad, etc.; below and underneath the whole the Lord's Prayer. The paper containing this course of study was covered with a sheet of transparent horn fastened around the edges. At the lower edge was a small handle with a hole through it and a string to go around the neck. By this means the advantages of a colonial education stayed by the scholars if they wished to avail of them or not.
These hornbooks were made of oak, bound with metal for common folks, but for the rich of iron and metal, often silver. Some were wrought in silk needle work. Their popularity is shown by their advertisement for sale in the Pennsylvania Gazette, December, 1760, and New York Gazette, May, the same year. Battledore book was another name. Another style was the printed cardboard battledore, about fifteen inches long and folded over like a pocket book.
The primer succeeded the hornbooks, the New England Primer being one of the earliest. It is recorded that three millions of these were sold, so great was the desire for education in times preceding the Revolution. These little books were five by three inches and contained 80 pages. They gave short tables of easy spelling up to six syllables; also some alphabetical religion in verse, as
K—for King Charles the good,
No man of blood.
In the Revolutionary days this was transposed to
K—for Kings and queens,
Both have beens.
Z appears to have been a poser in this alphabetical array of rhythmic religion, rendered
Zaccheus he
Did climb a tree
His Lord to see.
The hours of study were eight a day.
There were also text-book writers in those early times.
Among the titles one reads: "A delysious syrup newly claryfied for young scholars yt thurste for ye swete lycore of Latin speche." Another: "A young Lady's Accident or a short and easy introduction to English Grammar designed principally for the use of young learners, more especially for those of the fair sex though proper for either." Fifty-seven pages. It had a great sale.
It was the style of the time to set books of instruction in doggerel verse, even spelling, grammar and arithmetic. The latter was taught by means of "sum books," simply "sums" copied by the learner from an original furnished by the teacher.
Alphabet lessons were similar to the alphabet blocks children play with to-day, generally beginning with verses from the Bible. An interesting fact is that we find the child's prayer, "Now I lay me down to sleep," in the New England Primer catechism as far back as 1737. A more beautiful tribute could not be paid to this invocation of childhood than the thought of the generations of American children who were thus taught in their everyday lessons their dependence upon the Supreme Being.
Some of the most interesting contributions we have to the literature of the Revolutionary period are the letters of the educated women of the time. They are the more pleasing because they relate to the affairs of home and social life.
You, of this age of education of women are expected to exert a large share in their extension and enjoyment.—American Monthly Magazine.
[NANCY HART.]
Many people believe that Nancy Hart was a myth. But not so. In the "Life and Times of William H. Crawford," by J. E. D. Shipp, of Americus, the story is reproduced, as the Hart family lived not far from the home of the Crawfords. Col. Shipp says:
On the north side of Broad River at a point about twelve miles from the present city of Elberton, Ga., and fourteen from historic Petersburg, in what is now Elbert County, was situated the log house in which Benjamin Hart and his wife, Nancy Morgan Hart, lived at the commencement of the Revolution. The spot is easily located to this day as being near Dye's and Will's ferries, and on the opposite side of the river from which Governor Matthews settled in 1784, near a small and romantic stream known as "War Woman's Creek." This was the name given to it by the Indians in honor of Nancy Hart, whom they admired and feared. Her home was near the entrance of the stream into the river.
The State records show that Benjamin Hart drew 400 acres of land on Broad River, and afterwards another body of land in Burke county. He was a brother to the celebrated Col. Thomas Hart of Kentucky, who was the father of the wife of Henry Clay. He was a well-to-do farmer, and was compelled to take his stock and negroes to the swamp to protect them and his own life from the unrestrained Tories. As captain of a small company of 'Partisans,' he would sally forth from his hiding place only whenever there was a chance of striking the enemy an effective blow.
The Tories generally spared the women, but killed the men, though unarmed. Nancy Hart, alone with six boys—Morgan, John, Thomas, Benjamin, Lemuel and Mark—and her two girls, Sally and Keziah, presents a unique case of patriotic fervor, courage and independence of character. Rough, six feet tall, spare, bigboned and exceedingly strong, she was highspirited, energetic and shrewd. The Whigs loved her—the Liberty boys called her "Aunt Nancy." The Tories hated her.
When General Elijah Clark moved the women and children away from Broad River settlement to a place of safety in Kentucky most of them were anxious to go, but Nancy refused, and remained alone with her children after her Whig neighbors had departed. Her house was a meeting place for her husband's company. She aided as a spy and kept him informed of the movements of the enemy. She always went to the mill alone and was an expert equestrienne. One day while on her rounds she was met by a band of Tories with the British colors striped on their hats. They knew her and demanded her "pass." She shook her fist at them and replied: "This is my pass; touch me if you dare."
Tories lived on the opposite side of the river from her, and she had many trials with them. Some are noted. One night "Aunt Nancy" was boiling a pot of lye soap in the big fireplace of her stack chimney. Suddenly she noticed a pair of eyes and a bearded face at a crack between the logs. Pretending not to see the prowler, she went on stirring the soap and chatting with the children. Biding her time, she deftly threw a ladleful of the boiling soap into the face of the intruder, whom, blinded and roaring, Nancy bound fast and the next morning marched him across the river, wading the ford, and delivered him to Colonel Clark. She had many encounters, capturing Tories and taking them to the commander.
But of all her acts of heroism this one eclipses all others. From the detachment of British soldiers sent out from Augusta, and which murdered Colonel Dooly, there were five who diverged to the east and crossed Broad River to examine the neighborhood and paid a visit to Nancy Hart. They unceremoniously entered her cabin. Being hungry, they ordered her to cook food for them. She replied that the Tories and the villains had put it out of her power to feed them, as she had nothing. "That old gobler out there is all I have left." The leader of the party shot down the turkey, brought it in and ordered Nancy to prepare it without delay. She and her children went to work at the task. Finally she heard her unwelcome guests boasting of killing Col. Dooly. Then she appeared in good humor and exchanged rude jests with them. Pleased with her freedom they invited her to partake of their liquor, which she accepted with jocose thanks. While the turkey was cooking Nancy sent her eldest daughter to the spring for water, with directions to blow the conch shell, which sound her father would interpret. The Tories became merry over the liquor, pouring it from the jug with laughter, as they hurried up Nancy, anticipating a good feast. They were at ease. They stacked their arms within easy reach, and Nancy would ocasionally pass between the men and their muskets. The Tories again called for water and Nancy again sent the daughter to the spring for water—and to blow the signal for Captain Hart. Nancy was thinking fast. Through a crack between the logs she slipped outside two of the five guns. When the third was being put out she was discovered, and the men sprang to their feet. In an instant Nancy brought the musket to her shoulder, declaring she would kill the first man that moved. Appalled by her audacity and fury, the men for a moment stood still; then one of them made a quick movement to advance on her. She shot him dead. Instantly seizing the other musket at her side she leveled it, keeping the others at bay. By this time the daughter returned from the spring and took the other gun out of the house, saying: "Father and the company will soon be here." This alarmed the Tories and they proposed a general rush. So Nancy fired and brought down another man dead at her feet. The daughter handed her another gun and Nancy, moving to the doorway, demanded surrender of the three living. "Yes, we will surrender, and let's shake hands on the strength of it." But Nancy did not shake hands. When Captain Hart and company arrived Nancy would not let them shoot, saying: "These prisoners have surrendered to me; they have murdered Colonel Dooly. I heard them say so." And George Dooly, brother of Colonel Dooly, and McCorkle followed and saw that the captured murderers were hanged.
John Hart, second son of Nancy, became an influential citizen of Athens. Nancy lived with him after the death of Capt. Hart. In 1787, when the two Virginia preachers, Thomas Humphries and John Majors, were holding a great campmeeting in Wilkes County, Nancy became a staunch adherent of the new faith and joined the church—Wesley's. She finally moved to Kentucky, where her relatives, the Morgans, lived. Hart County was named for her, and the town of Hartford, which in 1810 was the county seat of Pulaski.
[BATTLE OF KING'S MOUNTAIN.]
By Marion Jackson Hall.
They heard the guns a-roaring,
They sounded far and wide;
They saw the rebels coming,
Up every mountain side.
The mountaineers, no longer tame,
From every hill and thicket came,
They rushed up every mountain side
To plunge into the swelling tide.
Ferguson knew, both good and well,
He would have to fight, on hill or dell,
But the number of rebels, he could not tell.
They were advancing, and walking fast,
When now they blew a long, shrill blast.
A smoke now covered the battlefield
With deaf'ning sound, of warlike peal.
The British flag was waving high,
When through the smoke there came a cry—
A cry from amidst the cloud did ring
From men that fought for England's king.
The English flag, they took it down,
Their leader was dead, and on the ground,
And panic stricken, they were found.
The rebels raged and charged again
And captured more than a thousand men;
They raised their flag up at top mast,
They saw and knew they were gaining fast.
The thunder roared, the lightning flashed,
And through the cloud some horsemen dashed,
The field was high, but there was mud,
For it was wet and red with blood.
It was a short, but bloody fight,
It filled the Tories all with fright—
They whipped the Tories, that was right.
The battlefield with blood was red,
And covered with wounded and with dead.
They smote and fell, who raised a hand,
To wipe the rebels from the land.
The Americans won that glorious fight
That put them all to thinking right,
They believed they should soon make their laws
And God was with their righteous cause.
[WILLIAM CLEGHORN.]
In the spring of 1728, a handful of sturdy Scotchmen started from Chelmart, Scotland, for America, "The Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave." Among these were the parents of the boy William Cleghorn, whose true story is herein narrated.
He was a frail lad and partly for the love of the sea and partly for his health, he enlisted in the Navy. We find him enrolled at Brunswick, N. C., September 8th, 1748, as a member of Capt. Samuel Corbin's Company. He proved a daring sailor, yet he was not so interested in the Navy but that he had time to fall desperately in love with sweet Thankful Dexter, of Falmouth.
Now, Thankful's father was a man of wealth, great wealth, for those days, and a son-in-law, with nothing to recommend him but good looks and a fine record as a daring sailor, did not appeal to him, but demure, sweet Thankful had a will of her own. She saw that young William was worthy of any woman's love, so never for an instant did she even think of giving him up.
As time went on our hero began to be a power in the colonies. He was interested in everything pertaining to their welfare. He soon began to prosper financially, and on February 12, 1782, we find recorded that he gave security for twenty thousand ($20,000.00) dollars, and took command of the ten-gun ship "Virginia." Rickerton, the historian, tells us in his history that our hero was "one of the earliest and most intelligent ship masters" but "all the world loves a lover," and I started to tell you chiefly about his love affair.
Thankful was always dreaming of William's bright, cheery face, and we may be sure she lost no opportunity to say to her worldly, bustling father, "Didn't I tell you so?" every time William brought new honors upon himself.
As time went on this energetic young man conceived the idea of building a sloop, which he did and named it the "Betsy." We wonder why he did not call it "The Thankful" but perhaps Thankful had something to say about that.
William loaded the "Betsy" with an immense cargo of oil and sailed around Cape Horn. This was the very first voyage ever made around the Cape, and can you not imagine how proud young William Cleghorn was? And can you not almost hear Thankful telling her father about the wonderful journey around Cape Horn?
The father was now convinced that William was not only valiant in war and a persistent lover, but that he was an excellent business man as well, so he withdrew his objections and Thankful Dexter became the happy wife of William Cleghorn.
We can almost see the radiant Thankful in her homespun gown and pertly poke bonnet, and the erect happy William with the air of a conquerer, coming side by side from the little church, through the narrow paths of Martha's Vineyard, to the home all ready for the happy couple, for William was now a well-to-do young man.
We must not take them all through life's journey, for this is to be a child's story, but alas for human joys, while on a visit to Boston in 1793, William Cleghorn was stricken with appoplexy and very suddenly passed away.
When you go to Boston, go out to the old Granary Cemetery, so well known by lovers of history, and inclosed in an iron railing you see a white stone standing alone. Draw near and read the inscription and you will see that there lies your hero, William, for on the stone you read:
Captain William Cleghorn
of
New Bedford.
Who died in a fit of appoplexy on a visit to this town,
February 24, 1793, in the 60th year of his age.
"Here lies entombed beneath the tufted clod,
A man beloved, the noblest of God.
With friendly throbs the heart shall beat no more,
Closed the gay scene, the pomp of life is o'er."
In the record of his will we find the following, which will show you how our ancestors made their wills:
Two mahogony tables, 1 square table, 16 leather bottom chairs, 1 mahogony desk, 7 looking glasses, 1 set of china (42 pieces), 1 coffee set (30 pieces), 34 linen sheets, 25 pair pillow cases, 1 pew in First Congregational Meeting House, 1 pew in Second Congregational House, etc., etc., besides a long list of notes and other properties.
This is very different from the wills of today, isn't it? I presume we have many boys as brave and true as William, and many girls as dear and sweet as Thankful, and perhaps one hundred years from now other boys and girls will be reading about some of you. So let us live in such a way that we may have our story written and enjoyed as is this true story of Thankful Dexter and William Cleghorn.—Evelyn Cleghorn Dimock Henry, Xavier Chapter, D. A. R., Rome, Ga.
[THE BLUE LAWS OF OLD VIRGINIA.]
Usually in discussion of blue laws, those very Draconian regulations which have so aroused the ire or the respect of moderns, depending upon which way they look at it, the debaters confine themselves mostly to New England Puritan forms, or those of New York, Pennsylvania or New Jersey.
In the days the Puritans formulated the blue laws, Virginia was looked upon as the home of high living and frivolity. Even to this day few would look for such measures among that old aristocratic colony.
As a matter of fact, the Virginians of the seventeenth century, had a habit of enacting indigo-tinted laws, and likewise enforcing them, which might have made the Puritans sit up late at night to beat them.
Aside from the stern and vindictive intolerance which finds utterance in the acts of the Virginia Assembly between the years 1662 and 1680, the most striking element in them is the tremendous premium placed upon spying and informing. In most every case in which such a reward is possible the law encouraged the man to spy upon his neighbor.
If the Virginia husbands agreed with Kipling that "a woman is only a woman, but a good cigar is a smoke," the following act must have been the occasion of much domestic infelicity.
"If a married woman shall slander a person the woman shall be punished by ducking, and if the damages shall be adjudged more than 500 pounds of tobacco her husband shall pay, or the woman receive a ducking for every 500 pounds so adjudged against her husband if he refused to pay the tobacco."
Unless a man was well stocked with the divine weed it was worth while to attend church with promptness and regularity:
"Enacted that the Lord's Day be kept holy and no journeys or work done thereon, and all persons inhabiting in this country shall resort every Sunday to church and abide there quietly and orderly during the common prayers and preaching, upon the penalty of being fined fifty pounds of tobacco."
Devices for public instruction and amusement were not to be neglected with impunity, even by the courts of the colony, as witness the following:
"The Court in every county shall set up near the courthouse, in a public and convenient place, a pillory, a pair of stocks, a whipping post and a ducking stool. Otherwise the Court shall be fined 5,000 pounds of tobacco."
There is no record of the Court ever having been mulcted of tobacco for depriving the people of the opportunity to watch the sufferings of their friends and neighbors.
Severe laws were directed against Quakers. Prior legislation had attempted to put a damper on being any kind of a "separatist," which meant any fellow who didn't agree with the Established Church. Evidently a little further law on the subject was thought necessary, for in 1663 the Virginia Assembly passed the following act:
"Any person inhabiting this country, and entertaining a Quaker in or near his house, shall, for every time of such entertainment, be fined 5,000 pounds of tobacco, half to the county, half to the informer."
Even Virginia hospitality might well have paused in the face of such a flying start toward bankruptcy.
That a stowaway might prove costly is demonstrated by the following:
"Every master of a vessel that shall bring any Quakers to reside here after July 1 of this year shall be fined 5,000 pounds of tobacco, to be levied by distress and sale of his goods, and he then shall be made to carry him, her or them out of the country again."
Evidently a little thing like a couple of years in servitude did not deter the lovers of pork chops from appropriating their neighbors' swine, for in 1679 the Assembly delivered themselves of the following act:
"The first offense of hog stealing shall be punished according to the former law; upon a second offense the offender shall stand for two hours in the pillory and shall lose his ears, and for the third offense shall be tried by the laws of England as in case of felony."
As the English law of the period usually prescribed hanging for a twice convicted felon, it is presumed that the third dose of justice proved an efficient remedy.
Not only in the stringency of their laws did the gray cavaliers of the Old Dominion run neck and neck with the grim-visaged gentry of Plymouth Rock, but the doubtful honor of being the last to relinquish the gentle art of witchcraft persecution probably belongs to them as well.
The witchbaiters around Salem and throughout New England generally ceased to a considerable extent their punishment for alleged witchcraft before the eighteenth century, but the Virginian records show the arrest and persecution of Grace Sherwood, of Princess Anne County, for witchcraft in 1706.
For six months this young woman was imprisoned, being brought time and again before the court in an effort to convict her. Finding no evidence in her actions to justify the persecution, the Attorney-General caused the Sheriff of the county to impanel a jury of women to examine Grace Sherwood physically and instructed them to find something to indicate that she was a witch. This the women failed to do and they were threatened with contempt of court for their failure.
Everything else having failed, it was decided to put Miss Sherwood to the water test, which consisted in tying her hands and feet and throwing her overboard in the nearest lake or river. If she sank she was innocent, but if by her struggles she managed to keep afloat for a few moments, she was guilty of witchcraft.
The full account of this trial is preserved by the Virginia Historical Society, and the last two court orders in the case are of interest as marking the close of witchcraft persecution in the colonies.
"Whereas, Grace Sherwood, being suspected of witchcraft, have a long time waited for a fit opportunity for a further examination, & by her consent & approbacon of ye court, it is ordered that ye sheriff take all such convenient assistance of boats and men and shall be by him thought fit to meet at Jno. Harpers plantation, in order to take ye Grace Sherwood forthwith and BUTT her into the water above a man's debth & try her how she swims therein, always having care of her life to preserve her from drowning, & as soon as she comes out that he request as many antient and knowing women as possible he can to search her carefully for all spottes & marks about her body not usuall on others, & that as they find the same to make report on oath to ye truth thereof to ye court, and further it is ordered that some woman be requested to shift and search her before she goes into ye water, that she carry nothing about her to cause further suspicion."
On the afternoon of July 10, 1706, the court and county officers and populace assembled on John Harper's plantation, and the arrangements being completed, Grace Sherwood was carried out to a nearby inlet of Lynnhaven Bay. The official court reporter tells quaintly the rest of the story:
"Whereas, on complaint of Luke Hill in behalf of her Magisty, that now is against Grace Sherwood for a person suspected of witchcraft, & having had sundry evidences sworn against her, proving manny cercumstances, & which, she could not make any excuse or little or nothing to say in her own behalf, only seeming too rely on what ye court should do, and thereupon consented to be tried in ye water, & likewise to be serched againe with expermints; being tried, and she swimming when therein & bound, contray to custom and ye judgments of all ye spectators, & afterwards being searched by five antient women who have all declared on oath that she is not like them; all of which cercumstances ye court weighing in their consideracon, do therefore order that ye sheriff take ye said Grace Sherwood into his custody & comit her body to ye common goal of this county, there to secure her by irons, or otherwise there to remain till such time as he shall be otherwise directed."
The woman was finally turned free, and thus ended the last legal prosecution for witchcraft in the colony.
[ELIJAH CLARKE.]
By Mrs. John H. Morgan, Regent Brunswick Chapter, D. A. R.
It is to be regretted that our historians have given so little space to one of our Georgia patriots of the Revolution—Elijah Clarke. One of our greatest national needs is that of commemorating the memories of our men who "did greatly," who fought, suffered and endured for our national independence. This is one of the prime objects of the existence of the Society of the Daughters of the American Revolution; "To perpetuate the memory of the Spirit of the men who achieved American Independence."
Among the many contributed to this great cause by Georgia, was Elijah Clarke. After the fall of Georgia, for the time being, many of our most distinguished men became voluntary exiles among their "brethren" in the West. Among the most prominent of these was Colonel Clarke; one to whom our liberty and the justness of the cause was dear.
He did not give up hope; for his heart was filled with the desire to return and renew the contest. He employed his entire time in the preparation of a sufficient force that would enable him to return when the opportunity should present itself.
Augusta was the key to the northern part of the state, and its possession was of great importance to our patriots. Upon hearing that the time for the arrival of the annual Indian presents was near, the desire to recover Augusta became, to Colonel Clarke, irresistible. He immediately set about collecting troops and his arguments were so successful that in a very short time five hundred enthusiastic warriors and men from the hills were assembled and marched to Augusta.
Upon their arrival, the division under Major Taylor attacked the Indian camp on Hawks Gully, thereby drawing the British under Colonel Thomas Brown to the support of the Indian allies, leaving the south and west of the city unguarded. Colonel Clarke entered at the points, with the remainder of his army, captured the garrison and finally, driving out Colonel Brown, occupied the town.
The British under Colonel Brown, after being driven out of Augusta, took refuge in a strong house called Seymour's White House, which they had fortified.
Colonel Clarke besieged them and was on the point of capturing them, after a four days siege, when Col. Cruger, coming with another British force compelled Clarke to retreat.
Lord Cornwallis ordered Colonel Ferguson to intercept Colonel Clarke. Just as Col. Ferguson started to carry out these orders, he heard that a new enemy was approaching, for the very purpose of doing just what Colonel Clarke had failed to do. This force consisted of rifle militia and had been drawn from Kentucky, the western country of Virginia and North Carolina, and was under the command of the famous independent colonels, Campbell, Cleveland, Williams, Sevier and Shelby. Upon hearing of Clarke's repulse and of Ferguson's orders to intercept Clarke, they gave up their enterprise on Colonel Brown, and turned against Ferguson; which ended in a crushing defeat for the British and the destruction of Colonel Ferguson at King's Mountain.
"Although Clarke failed in the reduction of Augusta, his attempt led to the destruction of Ferguson; and with it to the present relief of North Carolina." Such is the testimony of "Light Horse" Harry Lee, his companion in arms, and the father of our beloved General Robert E. Lee.
General Clarke, as he became, was brave and patriotic, and his services during the Revolution were valuable to the country, and deserve the recognition of his state. He died December 15th, 1799—one day after the death of Washington.
"Poor is the nation that boasts no heroes, but beggared is that country that having them, forgets."
General Clarke was one of Georgia's heroes. Let us honor him.
[GENERAL FRANCIS MARION.]
The subject of this sketch is General Francis Marion and a pleasant duty it is to revive the memory of this almost forgotten hero who was one of the most famous warriors of the American Revolution. General Nathaniel Greene had often been heard to say that the page of history had never furnished his equal.
He was born near Georgetown, South Carolina, of French parents, who were refugees to this country after the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes. From them he inherited that love of liberty which had caused them to forsake home and friends and commence a new life among strangers that they might enjoy freedom of thought and action at King's Mountain.
He manifested early in life a love of adventure. His first warlike experience was against the Indians. He served as a Lieutenant of volunteers. In his encounters with the savages he showed such courage and skill that he soon became famous, and to his credit, it must be said, he was always humane and just.
When war was declared against England and troops had to be raised, Marion received a Captain's commission. He went forth to raise a company. Money was lacking and he had to depend entirely on volunteers. He very soon, however, succeeded in getting his complement of men and was unexcelled in his dealings with these raw recruits. He could enter into their feelings and appreciate their conduct. He did not exact impossibilities of them and he was celebrated for what was called his patience with the militia.
No service was ever more strictly voluntary than that of those who constituted the company known as "Marion's Men" and he led them to perform deeds of valor which seem almost incredible. There was an air of mysterious daring in what he undertook, which gave a charm to the life his followers led, while they had the most perfect confidence in their leader. Insubordination was rare among his men on account of their devotion to him. If it did occur he usually visited it by dismissal from his band. This ignominy was dreaded more than any other mode of punishment. He seldom resorted to the military methods of severe discipline. His band was composed largely of the planters, and some of them were boys who lived in the section of the country where his daring exploits harrassed so severely the British. These men were devoted to field sports and were consequently fine riders and marksmen.
Marion and his men are connected with the most romantic adventures of the Revolution, equal to any we have read of in song or story. The writer has often listened with intense interest to the accounts given by her grandfather of the recitals of his party. William Pope, who was one of "Marion's Men," tells of the many hazardous undertakings against the British and Tories. The famous rides at night when they would leave their hidden places in the swamps, or some forest so densely wooded that they alone knew the trails by which they found their way in and out; how they would start on one of their swift rides to intercept the passing of British troops from one post to another or attack an army wagon train with provisions and ammunition, etc. The descent of Marion and his men would be so sudden that the enemy would be completely demoralized.
Marion kept bands of scouts constantly watching the enemy and by this means he was enabled to give our army most valuable information.
At one time our hero and his men learning of the encampment of some British troops near a river, started out to attack them at midnight. They had to ride many miles to reach the river and in crossing the bridge the noise of the horses aroused the sentinels of the enemy and they were prepared for resistance. The fight which ensued was a fierce one, but ever after that experience, when Marion found it necessary to cross a bridge, he made the men dismount and spread their blankets over the bridge to muffle the sound of the horses feet. It was a rule with him never to use a bridge when he could ford a river, and he burned all bridges for which he had no use. These long rapid rides were exhausting to man and beasts. They returned as rapidly as they went forth and when they reached their place of safety, they would secure their horses, throw themselves on the ground with only a blanket and a saddle for a pillow and sleep so soundly they would be unconscious of the falling rain and often awaken in the morning to find themselves surrounded by water. Amid all these scenes of hardship there were times when this band of devoted patriots indulged in revelry, as they were safely gathered around the camp fires among the lofty moss-draped cypress trees and gum trees of the swamps to enjoy the captured supplies from the enemy's commissary stores, which enabled them to supply themselves with clothing, arms and ammunition. Thus they largely provided for their own subsistence by their daring prowess.
The British established a line of military posts in South Carolina extending from Georgetown to Charleston. They found it exceedingly difficult to hold any communication, for Marion's scouts were always on the lookout to report their movements. Colonel Watson, of the enemy, attempted to take a regiment from one post to another. He was so harrassed by the sharpshooting of "Marion's Men" who lay in ambush along his route, that he sent a letter by flag of truce to Marion reproaching him for fighting like a savage and invited him to come out in open field and fight like a gentleman. But Marion was too shrewd to put in open field his comparatively small band, with their peculiar mode of warfare, against a far greater number of finely drilled regulars of the enemy and Colonel Watson had to retreat and encamp his men in the first open field he could find.
Marion had a number of interviews by flag of truce with British officers. One of the most noted is the one in which he entertained the officer at dinner. After business affairs had been settled General Marion invited the officer to dine with him and he accepted. Marion ordered dinner. The officer looked around with curiosity as he saw no preparations for dinner and his surprise was great when the cook placed before him on a piece of bark a few sweet potatoes which had been roasted in the fire near by. The officer remarked to Marion that he supposed his supplies had fallen short, endeavoring to relieve Marion of any embarrassment he thought he might feel in offering him such meager fare, but Marion replied that he considered himself fortunate, as he had a guest that day, he had that much to offer him. The officer was amazed and profoundly impressed with what he had seen. He returned to his command with such feelings of admiration and respect for men who endured so cheerfully such privations and so many hardships for the sake of liberty, that he said it was useless to fight such men, that they were entitled to liberty and he would not continue to fight against them. He resigned his commission in the army.
The enemy at this time had absolute command of this portion of South Carolina excepting as they were disturbed by Marion. He shifted from swamp to swamp and thicket to thicket and never relaxed his struggle for liberty. So harrassed were the enemy by him, they determined a number of times to make a special effort to capture him or drive him out of the state. All in vain. Marion was too alert and often met them with more promptness than they desired.
Colonel Tarleton, a British officer, with a reputation for great activity undertook one of these expeditions against Marion and narrowly escaped being captured himself. He retreated from his attack exclaiming to his men "Come on boys, we will go back, there is no catching this 'Swamp Fox'." By this same name he was ever afterward called by his followers.
When Gen. Nathaniel Greene took command of the Southern Army, he wrote to General Marion and begged him to remain in his independent position and keep the army supplied with intelligence, in which important part he rendered most active service, also in the battles of Georgetown, Ninety Six, Charleston, Savannah and others. So highly appreciated by the Government was the brave and valuable part performed by Marion and his men, that Congress passed a series of resolutions expressing the gratitude of the country to them.
Governor Rutledge appointed him Brigadier-General. In addition to the usual military rank, extraordinary powers were conferred upon him, such as were only granted to extraordinary men.
In the circumstances of life, there was a remarkable resemblance between him and the great Washington. They were both volunteers in the service of their country. They learned the military art in Indian warfare. They were both soldiers so vigilant that no enemy could ever surprise them and so equal in undaunted valor that nothing could disturb them, and even in the private incidents of their lives, the resemblance between these two great men was closer than common. They were both born in the same year, both lost fathers early in life, both married excellent, wealthy wives, both left widows and both died childless.
In reviewing the life of Gen. Marion, we find patient courage, firmness in danger, resolution in adversity, hardy endurance amid suffering and want. He lived that liberty might not die and never relinquished his sword until the close of the war. He then retired to his plantation near Eutaw, where he died. His last words were: "Thank God, since I have come to man's estate, I have never intentionally done wrong to any man."
Marion's remains are in the church yard at Belle Isle in the parish of St. John's Berkely. Over them is a marble slab upon which is the following inscription:
"Sacred to the memory of Brigadier-General Francis Marion, who departed this life on the twenty-ninth of February, 1795, in the sixty-third year of his age, deeply regretted by all of his fellow citizens. History will recall his worth and rising generations will embalm his memory as one of the most distinguished patriots and heroes of the American Revolution; who elevated his native country to honor and independence and accrued to her the blessings and liberty of peace." This tribute of veneration and gratitude is erected in commemoration of the noble and distinguished virtues of the citizen and of the gallant exploits of the soldier who lived without fear and died without reproach.
This brief and imperfect sketch of one of the most noted military men of his day has led to the reflection that many of the most valiant leaders of the Revolution are comparatively little known among the rising generation. The old histories written in the early part of this century which recorded their brilliant deeds and virtues, are out of print, a few to be found in old libraries, and the old readers which were used in the schools forty and fifty years ago were full of the accounts of their achievements, which thrilled the hearts of the students and stimulated in them a love of country, as only such deeds of valor could inspire. But today these heroes who taught us such lessons of patriotism have passed away forgotten, others scarcely a memory. Ought it to be so?
As our society is for the purpose of advancing the cause of patriotism, no effort on the part of its members would do more to bring this about than for some of them situated in different parts of our country to unite in collecting material for a new reader for the use of schools in which the deeds of these revolutionary patriots would be once more revived and made conspicuous to those who should ever hold them in grateful veneration.
This thought is one that might advantageously engage the attention of some national publisher who might employ compilers from different localities of our country for this purpose.
Among the "Readers" alluded to, was a tribute to Gen. Marion and his men, which was at the same time a graphic account of their lives and services. It was written by one of our favorable national poets, William Cullen Bryant, and was a favorite selection for declamation among American juvenile orators many years ago. It has disappeared from the modern editions of "Readers," but would fitly embellish a new "American Speaker," a book which would be popular throughout our land in these days of Sons and Daughters of the Revolution.
This suggestion will be enhanced by the reproduction of the ringing lines with which this article will close:
SONG OF MARION'S MEN.
Our band is few, but true and tried,
Our leader frank and bold;
The British soldier trembles
When Marion's name is told.
Our fortress is the good green wood,
Our tent the cypress tree;
We know the forest 'round us,
As Seamen know the sea;
We know its wall of thorny vines,
Its glades of reedy grass;
Its safe and silent islands
Within the dark morass.
Woe to the British soldiery,
That little dread us near;
On them shall light at midnight
A strange and sudden fear;
When waking to their tents on fire,
They grasp their arms in vain,
And they who stand to face us
Are beat to earth again,
And they who fly in terror deem
A mighty host behind
And hear the tramp of thousands
Upon the hollow wind.
Then sweet the hour that brings release
From dangers and from toil;
We talk the battle over
And share the battle spoil.
The woodland rings with laugh and shout
As if a hunt were up,
And woodland flowers are gathered
To crown the soldiers' cup.
With merry sounds we mock the wind
That in the pine top grieves,
And slumber long and sweetly
On beds of oaken leaves.
Well knows the fair and friendly moon,
The band that Marion leads;
The glitter of their rifles,
The scampering of their steeds.
'Tis life to guide the fiery barb,
Across the moonlit plain;
'Tis life to feel the night wind
That lifts his tossing mane.
A moment in the British camp,
A moment and away;
Back to the pathless forest,
Before the peep of day.
Grave men there are by broad Santee,
Grave men with hoary hairs.
Their hearts are all with Marion,
For Marion are their prayers;
And lovely ladies greet our band
With kindliest welcoming,
With smiles like those of summer,
And with tears like those of spring.
For them we wear these trusty arms
And lay them down no more,
Till we have driven the Briton
Forever from our shore.
—Mrs. F. H. Orme, Atlanta Chapter, D. A. R.
["LIGHT HORSE HARRY."]
The Lee family was illustrious both in England and America. They clearly trace their ancestry to the Norman Conquest, Launcelot Lee being the founder of the family. The Lees were prominent in English history down to the colonization of this country. Robert E. Lee is descended from Richard Lee, a younger son of the Earl of Litchfield, who was sent to this country in 1641 during the reign of Charles I. He came as colonial secretary under Sir William Berkeley. He was loyal to the royal party during the struggle between the Cavaliers and Roundheads. Richard Lee, second son of the Richard mentioned above, was born in Virginia in 1646 and educated in England and studied law. He took an active part in colonial legislation. His son, Thomas, was the first to establish himself in Westmoreland County. He was very prominent in the early history of the state. The fine mansion of Stratford was built for him by the East India company, and several of the prominent Lees were born in that home. Henry Lee, the son of Richard Lee, filled no prominent place in colonial history. He married a Miss Bland and had three children, the second son being Henry, who married a Miss Grymes in 1753. He left six sons and five daughters, the third son being Henry, the ancestor of R. E. Lee. He went to Princeton and was preparing to study law when hostilities with England changed his plans. When quite young he raised a company of cavalry and soon after the battle of Lexington joined Washington's forces. He soon became noted as an able leader and was promoted to the rank of lieutenant-colonel and had command of "Lee's Legion," consisting of infantry and cavalry. He was actively engaged in the service to the close of the war and was conspicuous in this state for some time. Owing to his rapid movements he was known as "Light Horse Harry." About 1781 he married his cousin, a daughter of Colonel Philip Ludwell Lee, of Stratford. Four children were born to them, all of whom died except one son. The wife died in 1790. He was elected to congress and afterwards was governor of Virginia. He next married Miss Anne Hill Carter, daughter of Charles Carter, of Shirley. He again entered political life and was elected to the general assembly. The children of his second marriage were Charles Carter, Sidney Smith, Robert E., Anne and Mildred. Robert Edward Lee was born in the Stratford mansion in which two signers of the Declaration of Independence were born. In 1811 Henry Lee moved to Alexandria to educate his children. Here he was made major-general during the war of 1812. He was the author of "First in war, first in peace, first in the hearts of his countrymen," when pronouncing a eulogy on Washington. His health failed in 1817 and he was induced to make a trip to the West Indies, but finding that he was not benefited, he returned and landed on the coast of Georgia, where he enjoyed the hospitality of a daughter of his old friend, General Nathaniel Greene, who was living in the family residence on Cumberland Island. After lingering a short time he died and was buried there, March 25, 1818.
General A. C. Long wrote the memoirs of R. E. Lee. He publishes an incident which occurred in 1862, when Lee was sent to this state to examine our lines and means of defense. General Long accompanied him. When they reached Savannah General Lee secured a vessel and went to Cumberland Island. He had the boat anchored and the two went on shore. They entered the old Greene mansion, which was in bad condition. Going through that to the rear, General Lee went alone to an old neglected cemetery. After that he returned with a flower in his hand, but never spoke a word about the visit to his father's grave. In silence he showed his reverence; with his usual modesty he refrained from speaking about it. From that old cemetery on Cumberland Island the body of "Light Horse Harry" Lee, ninety-five years after his death, was carried back to his old Virginia home and laid in its final resting place.
[OUR LEGACY.]
Our brave Forefathers: give them place
In Hall of Fame—the Nation's heart;
They met the foe, aye face to face:
Each man a hero, did his part—
Invincible to fear, and wrought
For us and ours, beyond his thought.
O fair Republic: pride and boast
Of children who cannot forget—
From lake to gulf, from coast to coast
Where waves the Flag with colors set
In patriot blood, which ne'er shall fade—
That Flag is ours, its price they paid.
We, daughters of a loyal line,
Would weave their deathless deeds in song,
With memory's fairest flowers entwine
Sweet garlands which shall linger long,
Who die for God and Country share
Immortal honors other-where.
—Hannah A. Foster in American Monthly Magazine.
[THE RIDE OF MARY SLOCUMB.]
In the prologue to "The Princess," Tennyson makes one of the group of collegemates assembled during the holiday season at Vivian Place find in an old chronicle the story of a brave woman whom a wild king besieged. But she armed
"Her own fair head, and sallying through the gate,
Had beat her foes with slaughter from the walls."
When this story was read to the ladies present, one of the men asked: "Where lives there such a woman now?" To which
"Quick answer'd Lilia 'There are thousands now
Such women, but convention beats them down.'"
On the first day of February, 1776, General McDonald, chief of the McDonald clan in the Cape Fear region, issued a proclamation, calling upon all true and loyal Highlanders to join his standard at Cross Creek, now Fayetteville, and prepare to assist General Clinton and Governor Martin in maintaining the king's authority in the province of North Carolina. About fifteen or sixteen hundred of them obeyed the summons. From Cross Creek they marched down the Cape Fear River until they came to Moore's creek, where they were met on February 27th by a Whig force about a thousand strong under the command of Richard Caswell, The following from a letter from Caswell to Cornelius Harnett shows the result of the meeting:
"I have the pleasure to acquaint you that we had an engagement with the Tories, at Widow Moore's creek bridge, on the 27th current. Our army was about one thousand strong, consisting of the Newbern Battalion of Minute Men, the militia from Craven, Johnston, Dobbs and Wake, and a detachment of the Wilmington Battalion of Minute Men, which we found encamped at Moore's Creek the night before the battle, under the command of Colonel Lillington. The Tories by common report were three thousand, but General MacDonald, whom we have prisoner, says there were about fifteen or sixteen hundred; he was unwell that day and not in the battle. Captain McLeod, who seemed to be principal commander, and Captain John Campbell, are among the slain."
This was the first pitched battle of the Revolution won by the Whigs; the only victories of an earlier date being the capture of Forts Ticonderoga and Crown Point on May 10, 1775. It would be difficult to overestimate the importance of the victory. Besides the capture of about 900 prisoners and 2,000 stands of arms of which the Americans stood in great need, the crushing of the Tory spirit and the corresponding rise of the Whig spirit, meant untold strength to the cause of freedom.
But it is not the political nor the military result of this battle with which this story is to deal. With the foregoing as an introduction, it is interesting now to turn to the story of the heroine of Moore's creek, Mary Slocumb.
Mary Slocumb was the young wife of Ezekiel Slocumb, of Wayne County. He afterwards became a prominent member of the house of commons, serving in the session of 1812 to 1818. She was but yet a girl when her husband rode away from home to join Caswell in crushing McDonald and the enemies of liberty. The men of that section, more than eighty strong, rode away one calm Sunday morning, under the lead of Slocumb. Before the long ride was begun, his young wife went out with the colonel to inspect the men. She says that she looked at them well, and could see that every man meant mischief. No doubt it was a sturdy, stern and determined band that rode away that day to battle for their rights. These men rode away in high spirits, some to a glorious death, some to a glorious victory; none to defeat or dishonor.
It is easy to imagine what a long, lonely day the young wife had at home that quiet Sabbath day; it is easy to imagine where her thoughts were; it is easy to imagine how she concealed the anxiety of her heart under the assumed cheerfulness of her face. "I slept soundly and quietly that night," she says, "and worked hard all the next day; but I kept thinking where they had got to, how far, where and how many of the regulars and Tories they would meet; and I could not keep from that study."
Going to bed in this anxious state of mind, her sleep was disturbed by a terrible dream. She seemed to see lying on the ground, surrounded by the dead and wounded, a body, motionless, bloody, ghostly, wrapped in her husband's cloak. With a cry of alarm she sprang to her feet into the middle of the room. So vivid was the impression that it remained with her even after she awakened from sleep and in rushing forward to the place where the vision appeared, she ran into the side of the house. The light was dim; all around was quiet and peaceful, but her heart kept up a great commotion. "If ever I felt fear," she says, "it was at that moment." The more she reflected on the vision the more vivid and more fearful it became, until at last she could bear the suspense no longer and starting up she said aloud:
"I must go to him."
In the stable was her favorite and own particular horse, "as fleet and easy a nag as ever traveled." In an instant, leaving her baby and the house in the care of the nurse, she rushed out to the barn, saddled her mare, and in less time than it takes to tell it, was flying down the road at full speed.
The night air was cool; the spirit of the race was in the nag; and mile after mile was quickly left behind, as the sound of her rapidly falling hoofs fell clear and distinct in the quiet night air. All alone, urged onward by love and fear, this brave little woman swept on through the dark night, dashing over bridges, whirling through dark woods, flashing past farm houses, until when the sun began to appear in the east thirty miles lay between her and her quiet home. Shortly after sunrise she passed a group of women and children anxiously awaiting news from the troops. From these she learned the exact route taken by Caswell and with only a few minutes' stop she was again skimming over the ground. There was no flagging in her spirits, nor those of the mare. On the contrary, the excitement became more and more intense the nearer they got to the end of their journey. It seemed as if the woman had infused her spirits into the horse.
The sun was well up when a new excitement was added to the race—she heard a sound like thunder rolling and rumbling in the distance. She pulled her mare up suddenly. What was it? Though she had never heard the sound before, she knew it must be the roar of the cannon; and as she thought of what it meant, the blood coursed more rapidly than ever through her veins; she was more than ever impatient to be on the scene, and away she dashed again. But then a thought rushed into her mind that for a moment made her feel very foolish to be here so far away from home and child, on what might after all be but a fool's errand.
"What a fool I am," she thought. "My husband could not be dead last night, if the battle is only fighting now."
But she had come too far now to turn back and so she pressed on faster than before. As she drew nearer, she could hear the roar of the deadly muskets, the fatal rifles, and the triumphant shouts of the victors. But from which side did they come? Did those shouts mean the defeat of her husband; or did they mean his triumph? This was the most trying moment of all—this terrible suspense. If it was his victory, then he would rejoice to have her share his glory; if his defeat, then he would need her to soothe his sufferings; so on she pressed to share with him weal or woe. Crossing the Wilmington road a few hundred yards below the bridge, she saw a clump of trees under which were lying perhaps twenty wounded men. What was this she saw? Her blood froze in her veins; her heart leapt to her mouth, for there was the vision realized. The scene before her—she knew it as well as if she had seen it a thousand times; the spot, the trees, the position of the men, the groans of the wounded, and her sight fell upon a body lying in the midst of the group, her brain became dizzy, and the world seemed whirling around her at the rate of ten thousand miles a second—there lay a body, motionless, bloody, ghostly, wrapped in her husband's cloak. Her whole soul became centered in that one spot. "How I passed from my saddle to this place I never knew," she said afterwards; but in some way she succeeded in reaching the body, and mechanically uncovered the head. She saw before her an unrecognizable face crusted with dust and blood from a gash across the temple. What a relief to her aching heart was the strange voice which begged her for a drink of water! Her senses came back to her at once so she was able to minister to the sufferer's wants. She gave him a swallow as she held the drooping head in her lap; and with what remained of the water, bathed the dirt and gore from the face. From the ghastly crust came the pale face of one of her neighbors, Frank Cogdell. Under the gentle care of his nurse, he revived enough to speak, and when she attempted to dress the wound on the head, he managed to gasp out:
"It's not that; it's the hole in my leg that's killing me."
Lifting the wounded leg from the puddle of blood in which it lay she gently cut away the trousers and stockings and found a shot hole through the fleshy part of the limb. What nerve it must have taken for this young girl, unused to such work, alone, without help or advice, to go through with the painful ordeal. But she was of the stuff of which North Carolina moulds her heroes, and she did not flinch from her duty. Gathering a handful of heart leaves, the only thing in sight suitable for binding the wound, she tied these tight to the hole and the bleeding stopped. No sooner had she completed this pressing duty, than she turned to others of the unfortunate men who lay in pain and need and, as she says, "dressed the wounds of many a brave fellow who did good fighting long after that day." During all this time, the first anxiety for her husband relieved, she had not had time to make inquiries after him, but with true heroism devoted herself to the more pressing duties of the moment. While she was busily engaged in bringing home to these poor fellows the blessings of a woman's care, General Caswell rode up. With great surprise at seeing Mrs. Slocumb, he raised his hat and was about to address her with a compliment, when she interrupted him with the question:
"Where is my husband?"
"Where he ought to be, madam; in pursuit of the enemy. But pray, how came you here?"
"Oh," she replied, carelessly, "I thought you would need nurses as well as soldiers. See! I have dressed many of these good fellows." Then pointing to Frank Cogdell, she continued, "Here is one who would have died before any of you men could have helped him." As she spoke she lifted Frank's head in her arms and gave him a drink of water. When she raised her head, there before her stood her astonished husband, "as bloody as a butcher and as muddy as a ditcher."
"Why, Mary," he exclaimed, "what are you doing there, hugging Frank Cogdell, the greatest reprobate in the army?"
"I don't care," she cried. "Frank is a brave fellow, a good soldier and a true friend of congress."
"True, true, every word of it," exclaimed Caswell, who stood by much amused at the scene. "You are right, madam," with a bow that would have shamed Chesterfield himself.
Mrs. Slocumb says she could not tell her husband what had brought her there. "I was so happy," she says, "and so were all. It was a glorious victory; I came just at the height of the enjoyment. I knew my husband was surprised, but I could see that he was not displeased with me."
It was of course long into the night before the excitement subsided. The news spread like wild fire, and the Whigs all over the country heard it with rejoicing and thanksgiving; and everywhere the news of the victory was heard, went also the story of the heroine, her brave ride, her heaven-sent aid, her soothing care of the wounded and suffering. Many a soldier breathed a prayer of thanks for the vision which came to her and for her courageous response. But the prettiest side of the story is the simple and unaffected way in which she looked upon her act. Nothing of force or beauty can be added to her own simple and touching words about her return home. After staying in camp long enough to offer intercession in behalf of the unfortunate prisoners and to receive assurance from Caswell that they would be well treated, she prepared to start home. "In the middle of the night," she says simply, without thinking apparently of her course, "I again mounted my mare, and started home. Caswell and my husband wanted me to stay till next morning and they would send a party with me, but no! I wanted to see my child, and told them they could send no party that could keep up with me. What a happy ride I had back! and with what joy did I embrace my child as he ran to meet me!"
This is a story full of meaning and significance to him who loves his state; who admires her noble women, and brave men; who glories in her heroic deeds and great achievements. As long as the old North State can produce such women as Mary Slocumb, she need entertain no fears as to what her men will be.—R. D. W. Connor, Wilmington, N. C., in American Monthly Magazine.
[THE HOBSON SISTERS.]
"Come in girls, I'll find her. She just knows everything about everybody's grand parents. Oh, Grandmother!" called Agnes, as she ushered the bevy of girls about her own age into the cherry sitting room, one October afternoon, and ran to tell her grandmother of her visitors.
It did not require a second call for Mrs. Martin to respond, and in her quaint way she cordially greeted her youthful quests, well known to her and her grand-daughter's friends, "Elizabeth," "Mary" and "Lucy Kent."
When the customary salutations and courteous inquiries had been exchanged, Lucy Kent, anxious to make known the object of their visit, explained:
"Agnes said you knew everything about everybody's ancestors, and our teacher told us today that we must bring in tomorrow our lines of descent, as far back as we could trace; also tell any family tradition or any incident in the lives of our ancestors in connection with the war of the Revolution, especially, she said, anything the women did."
"I don't see how the women could have done anything, when it was all fighting," added Mary, as if in apology.
And I said, "Grandmother, you could tell us, because I had heard you go over it all, way back to Adam," said Agnes reassuringly.
"Not quite so far back, my dear, yet I can give each of you some interesting accounts of your ancestors, but the story would have to be a long one and you might weary of it," said Mrs. Martin hesitatingly.
"Oh do, Grandmother," pleaded Agnes.
"But Wednesday is my day for darning the stockings, and"—
"Oh, we'll darn the stockings, so do begin," exclaimed several voices in chorus, and a rush was made for the sewing basket, and then the little girls sat demurely, waiting to hear the promised story, industriously plying the needle, and filling the holes with the thread.
"This portrait that you see here on the wall," began Mrs. Martin, pointing to the one in front of them, "is the grandmother of my grandmother. She is one of the Hobson sisters and you, Agnes, are seventh in direct line of descent from her through the Bacons and Carrs and Wares. It is a singular coincidence that you and your little friends here, all come from this same family of Hobson. 'Birds of a feather flocking together,'" chuckled the old lady, evidently pleased to see the friendship existing between the children in this generation, who were representatives of one of the best Georgia families and of the staunchest and truest supporters of the cause of American Independence.
"These Hobsons," continued she, "were daughters and sons of Nicholas Hobson, of Lunenburg County, Virginia, son of Matthew Hobson, of Henrico. As you already know, Georgia was largely settled by colonists from Virginia. It is not surprising to find the younger members of the Hobson family removing later to Georgia, for young folks are always looking for the best place to locate, and this is what the husbands and wives in the Hobson family did, moved to Georgia and located at Augusta."
"But you were telling about the portrait," interposed Mary. "Is she Agnes Hobson?"
"Yes, Agnes Hobson, born July 4th, 1740, and wife of William Bacon, born January 29, 1732, who was a Revolutionary soldier, and a member of the Provincial Congress 1775, as was also his brother John Bacon. Agnes had sisters Elizabeth, Sarah, Obedience, Mary and Margaret, and brothers Matthew, William, Nicholas and John Hobson. Ten children in the Hobson family, in the home in Lunenburg County, Virginia. My! what fine men and women, with the love of country, and the sacredness of the cause of freedom instilled in their hearts from infancy."
"Well, what did Agnes Hobson do?" questioned Mary.
"I was just about to tell you Mary, men and women are great and are heroic when they can rise to meet the occasion which necessity presents. So at this particular crisis in the affairs during the war of the Revolution, it became necessary to convey a message from Colonel Clark, in Georgia, to General Nathaniel Greene, who was then in South Carolina. In 1781, the British being in possession of Augusta, General Greene determined to march into South Carolina, and Colonel Clark and McCall proceeded to co-operate by annoying the British posts in Georgia. General Clark determined in May to attack. This information must be conveyed to General Greene at once. As the enemy's line would have to be crossed, it would not be possible to send the despatch by a man with the hope that he would ever reach General Greene alive. He would not only be held as a prisoner, but searched and probably hung. In those days petticoats were flags of truce. So, here was a woman's opportunity. But what woman would? In those days the country's affairs were freely and intelligently discussed by men and women, and there were no braver women than the Hobsons. Nothing daunted, Agnes volunteered to convey the despatch. Her brother-in-law, Nathaniel Bacon, had gone to South Carolina to assist Colonel Pickens who was maneuvering between Augusta and Ninety Six. Nathaniel was a Captain in Pickens' Brigade. She would reach him and through him convey this message to General Greene's headquarters. With the papers safely folded in her bosom she plunged into the swollen current of the Savannah River, and borne by her trusty horse, reached the Carolina shore in safety. Reaching her destination and fulfilling her mission, she recrossed the enemy's line, performing the act of a courier, swimming on horse back the Savannah River, and riding many, many miles unattended, because a woman's service was needed at this crisis in the war for American Independence."
"Did you say one of these Hobson sisters was my ancestor, and did she do anything heroic?" asked Mary inspired by this recital.
"Oh, yes" answered Mrs. Martin, "This was Elizabeth, the wife of Capt. Sherwood Bugg. There is a love story there."
"A love story" inquired Lucy Kent, "How interesting it grows! Please tell us this one."
Grandmother, pleased at her interested audience, continued her story of the Hobson sisters.
"Elizabeth Hobson, wife of Capt. Sherwood Bugg, (Legionary Corps, Jackson Legion) came with her husband and her brothers John and Matthew Hobson to Richmond County, Georgia, 1765-67. John died soon after his arrival in Georgia. Matthew married Miss Burke. He also lived in Augusta, was a Revolutionary soldier and an ardent patriot. It was at his house that the Executive Council met after the capture of Savannah by the British. It is said that General Washington was the guest of Matthew Hobson during his stay in Augusta, while on his triumphant tour through Georgia and the South."
"Elizabeth Hobson was no less a heroine than was her sister Agnes, nor less a patriot than were her brothers Matthew, William and Nicholas. Her house on her plantation, near Augusta, Beech Island, she converted into a refuge and hospital for the patriots and Continental Soldiers, where they were cared for and nursed back to health. Among these patriots were Colonels Clark and McCall, and Major Carter, who in spite of the care bestowed upon him died there from his wounds. Another, Colonel John Jones, of Burke County, received the tenderest treatment at the home of Mrs. Bugg. Colonel Jones had received eight sabre cuts on the head and was desperately wounded at Earle Fort, on the Pacolet River, during the night attack by the British and Tories. During his illness at Beech Island, his brother Abraham Jones and sister Sallie Jones came to visit him. The acquaintance thus brought about between the Jones and Bugg families, culminated later in the marriage of two couples. Sarah Ann Jones married young Sherwood Bugg, and following their example Abram Jones married Sally Bugg. From these descended the Phinizys and Hamiltons and Jones and Lamars, from whom you, Elizabeth and Mary and Lucy Kent are descended."
"You said, grandmother, that 'Ned Brace' of 'The Georgia Scenes,' came from the Hobson sisters," reminded Agnes, anxious that nothing be left untold.
"So he did; 'Ned Brace,' who was Edmund Bacon, was a grandson of Obedience Hobson, who married John Bacon. I spoke of him in the beginning as the brother of William Bacon, who married Agnes Hobson, and there is a sweet story tradition which tells of Obedience. On one occasion she was approached by a British officer, who had reason to believe that Obedience knew the whereabouts of her husband, John Bacon. 'Do you know where he is?' sternly demanded the officer as he leveled his gun at her head. 'Yes,' replied Obedience, not daring to tell a lie."
"'Where?' thundered the officer. Gaining strength at each stage of their interview, Obedience lifted her head and replied defiantly:
"I have hid him—in my heart and you will have to kill me to find him."
"Then, there was another sister, Sarah, who married William Fox. The old people used to speak of them as 'Sister Bacon' and 'Sister Bugg' and 'Sister Fox.' Margaret married a Telfair and Mary Married William Bilbo. Nicholas Hobson married Miss de Graffenried and William,—well, my memory fails me now,—but I suppose I have given you tradition and incident sufficient for tomorrow's lesson, so far as you are personally interested."
"Oh, yes, and thank you so much" exclaimed each of the circle of friends, and with affectionate goodbyes their pleasant interview ended.—Sallie Marshall Martin Harrison, Oglethorpe Chapter, Columbus, Ga.
[WASHINGTON'S MARCH THROUGH SOMERSET COUNTY, NEW JERSEY.]
Adeline W. Voorhees Stillwell.
The battle of Trenton thoroughly aroused General Howe, who at once collected 7,000 men at Princeton. Washington had but 5,000 men. On January 3 the battle of Princeton took place and the Americans were again victorious, but the men were so completely exhausted that Washington was forced reluctantly to abandon his project of capturing the stores at New Brunswick and to seek the hill country, where his men might obtain the rest and refreshment they so much needed.
Reforming his columns, the General passed along the King's Highway to Van-Tillburgh's Inn, at Kingston, which was standing not many years ago. Here, turning to the left on the narrow Rocky Hill road, he marched his way-worn men down the valley of the Millstone.
Arrayed in the Continental blue and buff as he sat on his horse with all that martial dignity peculiar to himself, Washington came as a conqueror, welcomed by the enthusiastic populace.
Much of interest appertaining to this march to Morristown is to be learned from the manuscript diary of Captain Thomas Rodney of the Dover Light Infantry, which is preserved by his descendants.
When the van of the American army reached the bridge which spanned the Millstone in front of the residence of Christopher Hoagland, near Griggstown, the British cavalry appeared in considerable force on the opposite bank. The condition of Washington's men was such that he desired neither to pursue nor be pursued, so he ordered the bridge broken up. This being done the enemy was forced to retire, which would lead one to suppose that the depth of the river was much greater then than now. Commissaries were sent forward to notify the inhabitants of the approach of the troops and to direct that food be prepared for their refreshment. The home of Abraham Van Doren, like many others, was the scene of great excitement and special activity that day. I quote from a paper read before the Somerset County Historical Society several years ago by his great-grandson, Rev. Wm. H. Van Doren: "Abraham Van Doren was a most prosperous and prominent member of the community. He owned the grist mill which did a large business between Trenton and New Brunswick. Besides the mill he owned the store (ruins of which are still standing), a feed mill, a saw mill, a carding mill and power loom, a cider mill and distillery, a cooperage, a work and wagon shop, two blacksmith shops and a lath mill, besides six or seven hundred acres of land. The mills and store houses were filled with flour, grain, whiskey and lumber, awaiting a favorable opportunity of shipment to New York. The general 'killing,' as it was called, had just been finished. The beeves and hogs and other animals designed for the next year's use had just been laid down, so that, what had never before occurred in the history of the settlement, there was now a whole year's labor stored up, a Providential supply for a great necessity which no human wisdom could have foreseen. Before noon the whole hamlet of Millville, as Griggstown was then called, was ablaze with excitement and activity. Soon the old Dutch ovens were roaring hot and bread and pone, shortcake, mince and other pies, beef, ham and pork, sausage and poultry, were cooking and roasting to feed the General and his staff. Not the officers alone, but the whole rank and file of the army was coming and right royally they feasted." There are many interesting traditions which are cherished in the Van Doren family relating to this visit of Washington and his army.
As soon as the troops had been fed and had an hour or two of rest, Washington found that Cornwallis, enraged that he had been so tricked as to allow his foe to escape while he slept, and fearing for his military stores at New Brunswick, had put his whole army in motion. So hurriedly calling his men to "fall in," Washington hastened with them to Somerset Court House, now Millstone. It was about dusk and here they encamped for the night. Washington and some of his staff quartered at the residence of John Van Doren, which is this house. Here also still stands the old barn where the General's horse was stabled. Until recently the house was occupied by a great-grandson of the man who was the proud host for one night of the Father of our Country. This family, too, have many interesting traditions of this memorable visit. We note that two men by the name of Van Doren, within twenty-four hours, were honored by being permitted to entertain the commander-in-chief of the Continental army.
The main body of the army encamped for the night near the present Dutch Church parsonage, in close proximity to the Court House, which was afterward burned. Early the following morning the column was again pushing northward, crossing the Raritan at Van Veghten's bridge, now Finderne. Not far from this bridge stood the old First Dutch Church of the Raritan on the ground donated by Michael Van Veghten, whose tombstone is still standing in the little "God's Acre," which surrounded the edifice. This building, like the Court House, was burned with all the priceless records by General Simcoe's men.
Rodney states that Washington was again tempted to march to New Brunswick, still having in mind the rich stores there which would be of such inestimable value to him. However, again out of consideration for his troops, he abandoned the project. After crossing at Finderne they marched up the river to the old road turning west, just north of Bernard Meyers' house to Tunison's Tavern, now the "Somerset" in Somerville, field to the right, passed up Grove Street and continued over the hills to Pluckemin. The sick and wounded were cared for in the village while the Lutheran Church was used as a temporary prison for the captured men.
It was at this time that Leslie, the young British officer who had been wounded and so tenderly cared for by Dr. Rush of Philadelphia, having died, was laid to rest with full military honors. Many of us have seen the stone in the church yard at Pluckemin which marks his resting place.
Sunday, January 5, 1777, was a great day for Pluckemin. News of Washington's presence, and that of his army, quickly spread throughout the surrounding country, and we can well imagine the eagerness with which the people flocked in to get the latest news of the war and perchance of their loved ones. The Mathew Lane house is said to be the house where the General was quartered.
Early on the morning of January 6 Pluckemin lost, suddenly as it had gained, the distinction of being the headquarters of the army.
Rested and refreshed, it was probably the most peaceful and satisfactory march experienced since leaving Hackensack three months before with Cornwallis at their heels.
Secure now from pursuit the little army in good heart travelled slowly along the narrow road called the Great Road from Inman's Ferry, New Brunswick, passing Bedminster Church to Bedminster. Some authorities say they then crossed the north branch of the Raritan at Van der Veer's Mills, but Mr. Joshua Doughty, of Somerville, who seldom makes an assertion which he cannot prove by the records, tells me that they did not cross the river at that point, but filed to the right, going through "Muggy Hollow," the road which Lord Sterling used in going from his place to the sea shore at Amboy; then passing through Liberty Corner and Basking Ridge, with frequent halts, they climbed the Bernards hills to Vealtown, Bernardsville, and on to New Vernon, and just as the sun was sinking in the west reached Morristown. After a weary pilgrimage they were for the time being safe in winter quarters.—American Monthly Magazine.
[HANNA ARNETT.]
By Mrs. Mary Lockwood.
The days were dark and hopeless, the hearts of our forefathers were heavy and cast down. Deep, dark despondency had settled upon them. Defeat after defeat had followed our army until it was demoralized, and despair had taken possession of them. Lord Cornwallis, after his victory at Fort Lee, had marched his army to Elizabethtown, New Jersey, and there encamped. This was in that memorable December, 1776. The Howe brothers had already issued their celebrated proclamation, that offered protection to all that would seek refuge under the British flag within sixty days and declare themselves British subjects, and take an oath binding themselves to not take up arms against the mother country or induce others to do so.
In one of the many spacious homes of the town, there had assembled a goodly number of the foremost men of the time to discuss the feasibility of accepting the proffered proclamation. We are much inclined to the belief that enthusiasm, bravery, indomitable courage and patriotism were attributes that took possession of our forefathers and held on to them until they became canonized beatitudes, upon which the sires alone had a corner, but we find on close scrutiny that there were times when manly hearts wavered, and to courage was added a prefix, and this was one of them.
For hours the council went on, the arguments were sincere, grave but faltering. Some thought that the time had fully come to accept the clemency offered—others shook their heads, but the talk went on until every soul in the room had become of one mind, courage, bravery, patriotism, hope, honor, all were swept away by the flood-tide of disaster.
There was one listener from whom the council had not heard. In an adjoining room sat Hannah Arnett, the wife of the host. She had listened to the debate, and when the final vote was reached she could no longer constrain herself. She sprang to her feet and, throwing open the parlor door, in her majesty confronted that group of counsels.
Picture a large room with a low ceiling, furnished with the heavily-carved furniture of those days, dimly lighted by wax candles, and a fire in the huge fire-place. Around a table sat a group of anxious disheartened-looking men. Before them stood the fair dame in the antique costume of the day. Imagination will picture her stately bearing as she entered into their august presence. The indignant scorn upon her lips, the flash of her blue eyes, her commanding figure and dignified presence brought every man to his feet.
Consternation and amazement for the moment ruled supreme. The husband advanced toward her, shocked and chagrined that his wife had so forgotten herself; that she should come into the midst of a meeting where politics and the questions of the hour were being discussed. He would shield her now. The reproof he would give later on, and so he was quickly at her side, and whispering, said to her:
"Hannah! Hannah! this is no place for you. We do not want you here just now."
He would have led her from the room.
She was a mild, amiable woman, and was never known to do aught against her husband's wishes, but if she saw him now she made no sign, but turned upon the astonished group:
"Have you made your decision, gentlemen?" she asked. "I stand before you to know; have you chosen the part of men or traitors?"
It was a direct question, but the answer was full of sophistry, explanation, and excuse.
"The case was hopeless, the army was starving, half clothed and undisciplined, repulses everywhere. We are ruined and can stand out no longer against England and her unlimited resources."
Mrs. Arnett, in dignified silence, listened until they had finished, and then she asked: "But what if we should live after all?"
"Hannah! Hannah!" said her husband in distress. "Do you not see that these are no questions for you? We are doing what is best for you—for all. Women have no share in these topics. Go to your spinning-wheel and leave us to settle affairs. My good little wife, you are making yourself ridiculous. Do not expose yourself in this way before our friends."
Every word he uttered was to her as naught. Not a word had she heard; not a quiver of the lip or tremor of an eyelash. But in the same strangely sweet voice she asked: "Can you tell me if, after all, God does not let the right perish, if America should win in the conflict, after you had thrown yourself on British clemency, where will you be then?"
"Then," said one, "we should have to leave the country. But that is too absurd to think of in the condition our country and our army are."
"Brother," said Mrs. Arnett, "you have forgotten one thing which England has not, and which we have—one thing which outweighs all England's treasures, and that is the right. God is on our side, and every volly of our muskets is an echo of His voice. We are poor, and weak, and few, but God is fighting for us; we entered into this struggle with pure hearts and prayerful lips; we had counted the cost and were willing to pay the price, were it in our own heart's blood. And now because for a time the day is going against us, you would give up all, and sneak back like cravens to kiss the feet that have trampled upon us. And you call yourselves men—the sons of those who gave up home and fortune and fatherland to make for themselves and for dear liberty a resting place in the wilderness? Oh, shame upon you cowards!"
"Gentlemen," said Arnett, with an anxious look on his face. "I beg you to excuse this most unseemly interruption to our council. My wife is beside herself, I think. You all know her, and know it is not her wont to meddle in politics, or to bawl and bluster. Tomorrow she will see her folly, but now I pray your patience."
Her words had already begun to leaven the little manhood remaining in their bosoms, but not a word was spoken. She had turned the light of her soul upon them, and in the reflection they saw photographed their own littleness of purpose or want of manly resolve.
She still talked on: "Take your protection if you will; proclaim yourselves traitors and cowards, false to your God! but horrible will be the judgment you will bring upon your heads and the heads of those that love you. I tell you that England will never conquer. I know it, and feel it in every fibre of my heart. Has God led us so far to desert now? Will He who led our fathers across the stormy, wintry sea forsake their children, who have put their trust in Him? For me, I stay with my country, and my hand shall never touch the hand nor my heart cleave to the heart of him who shames her."
While these words were falling from her lips she stood before them like a tower of strength, and, turning toward her husband, she gave him a withering look that sent a shock through every fibre of his body. Continuing, she said: "Isaac, we have lived together for twenty years, and through all of them I have been to you a true and loving wife; but I am the child of God and my country, and if you do this shameful thing I will never own you again as my husband."
"My dear wife!" answered Isaac, excitedly, "you do not know what you are saying. Leave me for such a thing as this!"
"For such a thing as this?"
"What greater cause could there be?" answered the injured wife. "I married a good man and true, a faithful friend, and it needs no divorce to sever me from a traitor and a coward. If you take your protection you lose your wife, and I—I lose my husband and my home."
The scornful words, uttered in such earnestness; the pathetic tones in which these last words were spoken; the tears that dimmed her sad blue eyes, appealed to the heart of every man before her. They were not cowards all through, but the panic sweeping over the land had caught them also.
The leaven of courage, manliness and resolution had begun its work. Before these men left the home of Hannah Arnett that night every man had resolved to spurn the offered amnesty, and had taken a solemn oath to stand by their country through good days and bad, until freedom was written over the face of this fair land.
There are names of men who fought for their country and won distinction afterward, who were in this secret council, but the name of Hannah Arnett figures on no roll of honor.
Where will the "Sons and Daughters of the Revolution" place Hannah Arnett?—American Monthly Magazine.
[BUTTON GWINNETT.]
Georgia was the youngest of the thirteen original colonies. At the Provincial Congress which convened in Savannah, January 20, 1776, there were elected five delegates to the Continental Congress, namely: Dr. Lyman Hall, Button Gwinnett, George Walton, Archibald Bulloch, and John Houston. Of these Button Gwinnett, Dr. Lyman Hall, and George Walton were present at the session of the National Assembly, which convened in Philadelphia on May 20th, and pledged Georgia with the United Colonies on July 4, 1776, by affixing their signatures to the Declaration of Independence.
Button Gwinnett, the subject of this sketch, was said to have been born in England about 1732. He was a merchant in Bristol, England, from which place he emigrated to America in 1770, located in Charleston, S. C., and in 1772 moved to Savannah, Georgia, at which time he bought a large part of St. Catharine's Island, and engaged in farming. He died tragically on May 27, 1777, as a result of a pistol shot wound in a duel with General Lachlan McIntosh, near Savannah on the morning of May 16, 1777.
The records give only limited information, and from careful investigation, at times it appears that the statements do not bear out the correct facts with regard to the biography of Button Gwinnett. In Harper's "Cyclopaedia of United States History," Page 190, Vol. 4, the statement is made that Gwinnett was "cautious and doubtful, and took no part in political affairs until after the Revolutionary War was begun." Also that McIntosh challenged Gwinnett for a duel. Subsequent acts would not indicate that the first statement conforms to his real temperament, and it appears from the best obtainable data that Gwinnett issued the challenge to McIntosh. It is true that having been a resident of America only a few years, he was in some doubt at first as to whether he would support the colonies, or throw his influence against them, but he was a man of strong convictions, ambitious, and possessed of great force of character, and his brief political career was meteoric. Unfortunately his strong prejudices and desire for political preferment led to the tragedy of his premature death.
He located in Georgia in 1772, was elected a delegate to the Provincial Congress, which convened in Savannah, January 20, 1776, and by this congress was made a delegate to the Continental Congress, which convened in Philadelphia, May 20, 1776. July 4, 1776, he signed the Declaration of Independence. He became a member of the Council of Safety, and was an important factor in framing the first Constitution of Georgia.
Archibald Bulloch, who was the first President and Commander-in-Chief of Georgia, died suddenly in Feb. 1777. Button Gwinnett, on March 4th, was elected to fill this vacancy until a Governor could be duly elected. Col. Lachlan McIntosh had been promoted to the rank of Brigadier-General, and was placed in charge of the Militia of Georgia. Button Gwinnett was envious of this promotion of General McIntosh, and through jealousy and revenge he so interfered with the military affairs as to seriously jeopardize discipline, and create insubordination towards General McIntosh as Commander-in-Chief. Personally ambitious, Gwinnett planned an expedition against Florida, and further humiliated and insulted General McIntosh by ignoring him as Ranking Military Officer of Georgia, and took command of the expedition himself. It is a matter of historical record that the expedition was a complete failure.
John Adams Treutland was elected Governor over Gwinnett. McIntosh had become a warm supporter of Treutland, and openly denounced Button Gwinnett as a scoundrel. As a result, Gwinnett challenged McIntosh for a duel, which was promptly accepted, and fought with pistols at a distance of eight feet, near Savannah, May 16, 1777. At the first shot both were wounded, Gwinnett's leg being broken and he fell. It is said he asked his seconds to raise him that he might shoot again, but his request was denied, and he was taken from the field. The weather was very warm, and septic fever soon developed, which proved fatal on the 27th of May following.
Thus ended the meteoric life of Button Gwinnett, who, within the short space of less than two years, sprang from obscurity into prominence, and whose life was brought to a sudden and tragic end at the hands of another, and whose grave today is in some obscure and unknown spot.
["FORCED BY PIRATES TO WALK THE PLANK."]
Theodosia Burr, wife of Governor Alston of South Carolina, was considered a beautiful and unusually brave woman of Revolutionary days. It is of her that this legend is told.
After her father's defeat as candidate for Governor of New York, in 1804, she left Charleston by water route to offer her sympathy and love during his trying ordeal. The ship of which she was a passenger was captured by pirates with murderous intent. Theodosia Burr was forced to walk a plank backward into the watery deep, her eyes were tightly blind-folded with a handkerchief and in this gruesome manner she met her death.
Later on in years an old pirate confessed upon his death bed that this beautiful daughter of Aaron Burr, whom he had helped put to death, walked the plank with the greatest composure; never once did she give vent to her feelings. This was the news conveyed to her parents after years of fruitless search for their beloved daughter, Theodosia Burr.—Edna Arnold Copeland, Stephen Heard Chapter, Elberton, Ga.
[GEORGIA WOMEN OF EARLY DAYS.]
When the full meed of recognition to which she is entitled, is given by the historian to the part which woman played in the founding and evolution of the colony of Georgia into one of the sovereign states of the American union—when her part in the bloody tale of the achievement of American Independence is fully told and final justice done on history's page to the hardships which she suffered in freedom's name, to her marvellous courage, to her fortitude, to her patience, to her self-denial and heroic sacrifice, then will the poet find new themes for epic song, the artist fresh riches for his easel, the romancer a new field for historical fiction and every patriotic American a deeper veneration for the flag whose primal baptism was of blood so precious and heroic.
As a curtain-raiser to the story of the heroines of the Revolution, two notable women of colonial days appear and claim the tribute of more than a passing mention by reason of the picturesque place which they occupy in the early history of the province, and because of the unique and momentous service which they rendered to the colony of Georgia.
When General Oglethorpe, dreaming of an empire of the west, attempted to secure a treaty with the aborigines and permission to plant his colony on the virgin soil of Georgia, it was a woman's hand that unlocked the door and bade him enter. It was a woman's diplomatic tact and ascendant influence with the Indian tribes that accomplished the cession of Georgia. Mary Musgrove, an Indian, the wife of a Carolina planter, negotiated with Tomichichi, the Yamacraw Chief, for the sale of the territory whose boundaries ran from the Savannah to the Altamaha and westward to the mythical "South Seas,"—a body of lands so vast that the Georgia of to-day is but a minor part of the territory originally ceded.
Thus we find that the first real estate agent that ever closed a "deal"—the biggest that ever was or ever will be in Georgia—was a woman, and the first Georgia manufacturer was a woman as well—Mary Camuse, the wife of Lewis Camuse.
From the business tact, enterprise and industry of Mary Camuse resulted the first recorded exportation to England of the first manufactured article which left our shores, forty-five pounds, two ounces avoirdupois weight of silk, cultivated and woven by her hand.
A glance at the minutes of the trustees of the colony reveals this quaint and interesting entry:
"August 7th, 1742. Resolved, That it is recommended to the common council, to give Mrs. Camuse a gratuity for every person who shall be certified to be properly instructed by her in the art of winding silk."
The art of wearing silk, with grace and elegance, could, I feel assured, be taught to any one who might seek to profit thereby, by the stately matrons whose names adorn the roster of the Atlanta Chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution, but the art of winding silk, such as the trustees encouraged by their bounty, is, I very much fear, at this time in Georgia what we might call one of the "lost arts."
Passing from Mrs. Musgrove and Mrs. Camuse to the Georgia women of the Revolution, I beg leave to state that I have sought in this paper to give only such names and incidents as are authenticated by historical reference or by well established tradition. I am by no means assured that the list is full,—indeed, I am strongly inclined to the opinion that it is largely incomplete, notwithstanding the somewhat exhaustive research which has been made in ancient archives and time-worn histories.
It is generally accepted that the most conspicuous figure among the Georgia women of the Revolution is the famous Amazon of Elbert County, the redoubtable Nancy Hart. She was undoubtedly the foremost fighter from the ranks of the colonial dames North or South, and her brave and thrilling exploits were indubitably of a rank and character to entitle her to an exalted place in the American temple of fame.
The portrait of Nancy Hart while in repose, is that of a formidable warrior—when in action, she must have been a female Apollyon, dire and terrible, a veritable incarnation of slaughter and threatenings. Six feet in height, cross-eyed, ungainly in figure, redheaded, big hands, big feet, broad mouth, massive jaw, sharp of tongue and rude in speech, she was a picture before which a Redcoat, a Tory, or a bachelor, well might quail. "She was a honey of a patriot but the devil of a wife," is the reading of the record—the tribute of a neighbor who lived in the bloody times which made her known to fame.
It is related that in later years, a resolution was introduced in the legislature of Georgia providing for an equestrian statue of General Jackson—representing his horse in the act of plunging forward, the warrior pointing his sword with martial eagerness towards the foe—to be placed in the capitol of Georgia. A patriotic member of the body arose in the assembly and protested that he would not vote for the resolution unless the legislature should likewise authorize a painting of Nancy Hart fording the Broad River with a tory prisoner, bare-headed and bare armed, her dress tucked up, her jaws set, her big hands suggestively pointing the musket at her cringing captive.
It does seem a matter for regret that some such recognition is not given by the State to the daring and valor of this Georgia heroine. The history of no other nation can boast of a braver or more invincible woman, and it should be a matter of state pride among Georgians to honor her memory and commemorate with painter's brush, or sculptor's chisel, her splendid and heroic achievements in the cause of American Independence.
The fame which Nancy Hart achieved as a fighting patriot is perhaps equaled by Jane Latouche Cuyler as the political heroine in Georgia, of the Revolution. This picturesque and remarkable woman was the widow of Telemon Cuyler, a wealthy mariner. She lived at the corner of Bull and Broughton streets in Savannah. Mrs. Cuyler was of French descent and inherited the fiery and mercurial temperament of her Gallic ancestors. She is accorded the distinction of being the first patriot at Savannah to don a liberty cap, which she persistently wore, to the grim displeasure, and despite the intimidating attitude, of the crown governor, Sir James Wright. Political meetings were held by the patriots at Mrs. Cuyler's house and it is said, that at one of these assemblies, a resolution was passed which afterwards formed the basis of the action of the Provisional Congress in declaring Georgia's adherence to the revolting colonies and her purpose to join with them in armed resistance to the authority of the English crown.
At the fall of Savannah, she was taken to Charleston under an escort of Continental troops and after Charleston had surrendered to Sir Henry Clinton, the Commissary General of Georgia is said to have caused her to be transported to Philadelphia, where her expenses were paid by the commonwealth of Georgia in recognition of her valuable services to the patriots' cause. So active was her participation in fanning the flame of revolution and in fomenting armed resistance to the encroachments of the Crown that Sir James Wright is stated to have offered a reward for her capture and delivery to the British authorities. She died in New Jersey after the Revolution, having lived, however, to see the independence of the colonies for which she had striven with such fervor and eclat, brought to a happy and successful issue.
After the fall of Savannah, the Continental prisoners were crowded by the British on board ships lying at anchor in the Savannah River. These ships were veritable pest houses and many of the prisoners died of infection and for the want of proper sustenance. Mrs. Mordecai Shefthall made it her mission to go out in boats provisioned and manned by her negroes to make the rounds of these floating prisons and administer such aid and bring such delicacies as she could command to the imprisoned patriots. This brave and noble woman endeared herself to the Continental captives and in consequence of these missions of mercy and her brave solicitude for the unfortunate prisoners, she acquired the beautiful soubriquet of "the Angel of the Prison Ships."
Yet another woman who administered to the wants and necessities of these unfortunate soldiers was Mrs. Minis. General Shefthall himself a Captain, records two important ministrations which she rendered to his succor and comfort. He says: "In this situation I remained for two days, without a morsel to eat, when a Hessian officer named Zaltman, finding that I could talk his language, removed me to his room and sympathized with me on my situation. He permitted me to send to Mrs. Minis, who sent me some victuals."
But an equally important service—more of a luxury perhaps than a necessity, but a most delightful luxury to a gentleman—followed, when on application to Col. Innis, General Shefthall, records: "I got his leave to go to Mrs. Minis for a shirt she had taken to wash for me, as it was the only one I had left, except the one on my back, and that was given to me by Captain Kappel, as the British soldiers had plundered both mine and my son's clothes."
In the time allotted for this paper, I have not the opportunity to discuss at length the character and adventures of Mrs. Johnathan Bryan who, amidst constant danger from marauding Tory bands, successfully operated and managed her husband's plantation while he was fighting for the cause of liberty; nor to deal with the exciting and romantic career of Sarah Swinton McIntosh, nor to depict the quaint personality of Winnifred McIntosh, Spinster, the brave and loyal sister of the dashing "Rory"; nor to draw the picture of Mrs. John Dooly, the tragic murder of whose husband by the Tories is said to have fired the soul of Nancy Hart with the fierce flame of vengeance against the brutal Royalists, who with fire and sword lay waste the unprotected homes of the patriots.
I, therefore, close this crude and hasty sketch with a romance of the Revolution, a tale which must appeal to every heart because of its human interest, its bloody setting, its gratifying sequel and by reason of the fact that one of your own members is a lineal descendant of the heroine of this pleasing and delightful romance of love and war.
My story is a note from the life of Sarah Ann Jones who was sent from Burke County, Georgia, to Savannah to a boarding school for young ladies kept by gentlewomen in sympathy with the Royalist faction of the colony. So far did the school management display its royalist sentiment that the school girls were coerced into knitting socks and making shirts for the enemy during the hours for play and recess, and were sternly instructed to be true and loyal servants to the King. This coercion only made the colonial girls more devoted secretly to the cause of liberty, and when Savannah fell into the hands of the British, the times were past when educational advantages could be considered and our little school friend was sent for, and brought home, where it was thought she could find a safer asylum. With three brothers in the army, and all her heart with them, she was happy to be at home. But she was destined to do more for the cause of liberty than fell to the lot of every quiet maiden of those eventful days. She was sent for not a great while after her return home to go at once to Beech Island, near Augusta, to the plantation of Mrs. Sherwood Bugg to help nurse her brother, Captain John Jones, who had been severely wounded and who had been brought there, along with many other wounded soldiers, to be nursed back to life again by every kindly ministration known to the helpful women of these stirring times.
And so she went and helped to nurse her brother, and there the long, anxious days were crowned by a budding romance.
Captain Jones was able again to enter the fight for freedom, and then it was that his lovely young sister, Sarah Ann Jones, found time for seeing much of the youngest son of her hostess, Sherwood Bugg, Jr. Love soon bound the young soldier with silken strands, their troth was plighted and with the consent of both families their marriage was arranged for. Nothing marred their plans and the young couple settled after their marriage, on land in Columbia County, Georgia, granted their families for services rendered during the struggle of 1776 when young girls and mere boys (too young for regular soldiers) found an opportunity for working for the cause of their country as nobly as ever did the soldiers of the line.
Today in a little home of one of your members are to be found two very plain, solid, old mahogany tables that span these years reaching back to the Revolution, that belonged to this young couple—a fitting table on which to pen a love letter and the best exponent of the character of Revolutionary times, serving not one, but five generations, and even now in daily use.
This little romance lends additional charm to the beauty and strength of these old tables, and today, they tell us of the force and nobility of earlier days and a simpler life.—James Waddy Austin. Read before Atlanta Chapter by Mrs. Joseph Morgan.
[ROBERT SALLETTE.]
In studying the lives of noted individuals, we find the written history of them in many ways so very different.
Some are always before the eyes of the public. They seem to know just how to arrange, that their words and deeds are known and read of all men.
Then there are others, perhaps as worthy or perchance even more so, who are reticent and modest, and the very simplicity of their lives causes them to shrink from the lime-light, the glare of the torch and the noise of the trumpet of victory, preferring rather the inner-consciousness of having done well that which was committed unto them.
Apart from either of these classes, we find a few who are unconstrained, who take destiny into their own hands, rough hewing as they will, and are indifferent alike to either public censure or applause. In this last division, we would have to place our patriot, Robert Sallette.
"Neither history nor tradition gives us the place of his birth or the date of his death, yet it is known that he played a more important part in the struggle in the Colony than any one man who had no troops at his command." Like Melchizedek, he seems to have had no beginning or ending or length of days. It is known that his grave lies in the noted old cemetery at Midway, Georgia along with many famous revolutionary heroes.
Sallette's bravery was beyond dispute, even to recklessness. His hatred of the Tories and all subjects of the King was so bitter, that it caused a price to be set upon his head. Most of us are familiar with the traditions which the historian, Harris, tells of in his "Stories of Georgia," where "A Tory of some means offered a reward of one hundred guineas to any one who would bring him the head of Sallette." The Tory had never seen Sallette, but his alarm was such, that he offered a reward large enough to tempt some one to assassinate the daring partisan. When Sallette heard of the reward, he disguised himself as a farmer, placed a pumpkin in a bag and took it to the home of the Tory. He was invited in and deposited the bag on the floor beside him, the pumpkin striking the boards with a thump. "I have brought you the head of Robert Sallette," he said. "I hear that you have offered a reward of one hundred guineas for it."
"Where is it," asked the Tory.
"I have it with me," replied Sallette, shaking the loose end of the bag. "Count me out the money and take the head."
The Tory neither doubting nor suspecting counted out the money and placed it on the table.
"Now show me the head," said he.
Sallette removed his hat, tapped himself on the forehead and said, "Here is the head of Robert Sallette."
The Tory was so frightened that he jumped from the room and Sallette pocketed the money and departed.
An old inhabitant of Liberty County tells that once two Tory robbers had gone to some worthy man's house in the lower part of the county and demanded his money. When he refused, they put a rope around his neck. Bob Sallette seems to have appeared on the scene and saw what was taking place across the field. Sallette rushed up on horseback, yelling with all his might, "Come on, boys, here they are." The Tories, thinking they were outnumbered and would be captured, ran away. Sallette took the man in trouble on horseback with him and they made their escape.
Sallette was not wanting in humor, as we see in the little encounter he had with the advance guard of the British.
Observing that a dead man, who was a remarkably large man, had on a pair of good boots, Sallette determined to get them. While pulling them off, his companion called for him to get away quickly, or he would be killed. "I must have the boots, I need them, I want them for little John Way." This was fun in the midst of tragedy, as Mr. Way was a remarkably small man.
It will be remembered that at a very early period, the citizens of St. John's Parish (now the County of Liberty) took a very firm stand in favor of independence. The early, open, and determined resistance, of this parish did not escape the notice of the enemy, and accordingly it was made to feel the full measure of royal vengeance. Added to this, Sallette must have had some special cause for the bitter animosity and hatred he felt for all Britishers. It was thought (as his name would indicate) that he descended from the French Acadians, who had previously suffered much, and often, at the hands of the Britishers, hence his motto, which was, "never forgive a Tory." If one was ever liberated he made it his business to follow him and, if possible, take his life.
Sallette was a roving character, belonging to no particular command. He fought valiantly and zealously, but always in his own peculiar way and style. He didn't seem to especially value his own life and, never, the life of his foe.
Once he dressed as a Britisher and dined with a party of them. While toasting and merry-making he suddenly drew his sword and killing the man on either side of him, he jumped on his horse and rode off unhurt, though he stood not on the order of his going.
We can well understand that with such a daring spirit and cool calculating brain he was greatly feared by the Tories.
Evidently his thinking was independent, for his style of warfare and sudden actions kept the enemy uncertain where he would next appear. Often during a battle he would leave his command and go to the rear of the enemy and kill a number before he would be discovered.
When Major Baker defeated a body of Tories at the White House near Sunbury, among the enemies slain was Lieutenant Grey, whose head was almost severed from his body by a stroke of Robert Sallette's sabre.
Sallette, the scout, was a personal friend of Major Fraser of the Revolutionary War. Tradition has it that these two men did valiant and effective service in running out the Tories.
One story is, that these two met a couple of Tories in the road at the ford of Taylor's Creek and the Tories were never afterwards seen or heard of, which was characteristic of his manner of dealing with the enemy.
We know that often when General Marion of South Carolina wanted some special work done he sent to Liberty County, Georgia, for the distinguished and intrepid scout, Robert Sallette.
This daring scout performed many deeds to free this land from English oppression and to enable us to sing:
My country 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty
———— Long may our land be bright,
With freedom's holy light,
Protect us by thy might,
Great God, our King.
[GENERAL LAFAYETTE'S VISIT TO MACON.]
The Nation's Guest—Arrangements for his Reception.
(From the Georgia Messenger, Macon, Ga, March 23, 1825.)
A signal gun will be fired as soon as the General and his suite arrive, on the hill at the old fort. The ladies and gentlemen will proceed to form themselves immediately in two lines on Bridge Street, near the ferry, under the direction of the Town Marshal, and A. Mandell, J. S. Childers, G. B. Wardlaw, E. McCall, R. McCall and Isaiah Chain, Marshals for the day; the arrangements to be as follows: First, the Commissioners of the town and Committee of Arrangements on horseback; second, the ladies; third, the citizens generally. He will be received by the Commissioners and Committee near the ferry, where he will be addressed by James S. Frierson, Esq., in behalf of the citizens.
Wednesday, March 30th.—Reception of Lafayette.
At 12 o'clock yesterday a signal announced his approach, when the ladies and gentlemen proceeded to form lines on Bridge Street near the ferry. Owing to the rapidity with which he now travels, he was entirely unattended by any military escort. The only persons with him were his son and secretary, and two of the Governor's aids, Cols. Thaddeus G. Holt and Henry G. Lamar. He dismounted from his carriage and crossed the river, where he was received by the Committee and Commissioners. On ascending the bluff he was welcomed to our town in behalf of the citizens by James S. Frierson, Esq., who said:
"General Lafayette. Sir: I am deputed by the citizens of Macon and its vicinity to welcome you to this place.
"To tell you, sir, that you were the early, steadfast and constant friend of this republic in her revolutionary contest, would be only to say what had been acknowledged by the past and present generation.
"But that glorious struggle in which your destinies were pledged in common with the illustrious characters of that day, has eventually proved that a system of government, now in the history of the world, a confederative representative democracy, is the best guarantee for the liberties of a great people, is now confirmed by the experience of thirty-six years.
"The first State, sir, which you will enter after leaving this, and those you are now to visit are prominent testimonials of this sublime truth, unknown in the Revolutionary struggle; a barren wilderness where the foot of civilized man had scarcely trod, in this short period had grown in numbers nearly equalling the original States, entertaining the same political views, the same veneration for your person and character that we do; you will there be greeted with the same hospitality that you have met here.
"With hearts full of gratitude for your past service, with the earnest and intense interest for your future welfare and prosperity, we all unite in wishing that the evening of your days may be spent in that calm tranquility and repose of which you were deprived in your earlier life."
To which the General replied in substance:
"That he was thankful for the manner in which the citizens of Macon were placed to receive him; that he perfectly accorded in the opinion that a representative Democracy was the best calculated to secure the liberties of the people, and requested that the people of Macon would receive his thanks for the manner in which they had been pleased to treat him."
A procession then formed and he was conducted to his quarters at the Macon Hotel. During the moving of the procession a national salute was fired. Soon after his arrival he was waited upon by the ladies, who were individually introduced to him; after which every citizen who wished was introduced, to whom General Lafayette gave a cordial grasp of the hand.
He was then waited on at his quarters by the brethren of Macon Lodge, No. 34, and was addressed as follows by Worshipful Ambrose Baber, Master of the Lodge:
"Brother and General Lafayette: In our humble capacity as brothers of the mystic union, we welcome you to our infant village. No triumphal arch, no tinsel show of earthly grandeur greeted your entry. We offer you a triumph more lasting and noble—the triumph of gratitude.
"Admonished by that resplendent luminary which rules and governs the day, and imparts an equal lustre on all mankind twice in every year, that we have all once been and must again be upon a level, we have ventured to hail your arrival among us, and to offer you a welcome in unalloyed gratitude, the spontaneous effusion of our hearts.
"Illustrious benefactor of mankind. What a train of associations does thy eventful life excite. Companion and associate of our immortal Washington. Thine efficient arm hath prostrated oppressive tyranny—succored, and relieved distressed and agonized humanity, and established a nation in the full enjoyment of freedom. The glittering offerings of princes could not dissuade, nor the appalling frowns of royalty deter you from a life of benevolent usefulness. The assassins of sanguinary demagogues nor the loathsome cells of the dungeon mar or destroy your feelings of philanthropy. Unaltered and unchanged didst thou remain amidst the calamities and vicissitudes which harrassed thine own distracted country.
"Behold thy compensation. The gratitude of ten millions of freemen, the applause and admiration of every nation. Even the wilderness smiles with joy and the savage is gladdened at thy presence.
"Amidst this jubilee of feeling, permit me to offer you again the grateful rejoicings of my associates and brethren of the society of Free Masons, in beholding you among us. Royal tyranny may condemn, ignorance may reproach and blaspheme the holy mysteries of our institution; yet with Lafayette for her support the science of Masonry will continue to illumine and harmonize mankind to endless ages. Gratitude must have fled from the breast of man, humanity lose its refuge on earth, and memory lose its seat ere the virtuous deeds of the generous, amiable, distinguished and exemplary Lafayette shall be forgotten."
To which the General replied in an animated manner:
"The very grateful reception I have met among my brethren demands of me an expression of my most sincere and affectionate acknowledgements. Permit me to declare to you particularly, and the brethren of your Lodge, an unfeigned obligation for the very flattering regard you have been pleased to express for me.
"The science of Free Masonry, to which I have for many years been an humble votary, is wonderfully calculated to alleviate the many distresses and calamities to which mankind are exposed in their variegated and manifold duties in society, and when I recur to those scenes, to which you have been pleased so delicately to allude, I am constrained to acknowledge how much I have been cheered, sustained and animated in the various vicissitudes of my life, by the holy precepts and examples of our institution.
"That you and your Lodge may be blessed with prosperity and harmony, that the rising town of Macon may continue in its advancement, that Masonry may flourish, and the citizens enjoy all the social and intellectual blessings it so eminently inculcates, I pray you, sir, with the rest of my brethren to accept as my most sincere and ardent wish."
He remained in town but about two hours and a half, during which time, he in company with a large number of our citizens, partook of an excellent dinner prepared by Mr. Stovall. After dinner the following toast was given by Edward D. Tracy, Esq.:
"Our illustrious guest—the friend of our country, of liberty, and of man."
To which the General replied, and gave:
"The town of Macon—may its prosperity continue to be one of the strongest arguments in favor of republican institutions."
Very soon after dinner he bade an affectionate adieu to the gentlemen and ladies around him and resumed his carriage, at which time another national salute was fired. He was accompanied by the Committee, Commissioners of the town and a number of our citizens, on horseback, several miles on his way. It is understood he intended to lodge at the Agency; making the whole distance traveled during the day about sixty miles.
Singular Coincidence of Circumstances in the History Of Lafayette and Bolivar.
South Carolina was the first place in the United States in which they both landed, and at no very distant spots the one near Georgetown, and the other at Charlestown. Lafayette, a Frenchman, came by the way of France. Both have most materially contributed to the independence of the New World—the one in North, the other in South America; and what is most singular, at the very period in which the one is receiving the homage of national gratitude in the former—the other has succeeded in his efforts for the cause of freedom in the latter place.
Among the persons who received Gen. Lafayette at Columbia, was Judge Waites, who is the only survivor of the party that first received him at landing on the soil of South Carolina, at Gen. Huger's in Georgetown.
[YES. TOMORROW'S FLAG DAY.]
(Tomorrow, June 14, is Flag Day in the United States.)
When Freedom, from her mountain height,
Unfurled her standard to the air,
She tore the azure robe of night
And set the stars of glory there.
She mingled with the gorgeous dyes
The milky baldric of the skies,
And striped its pure celestial white
With streaklings of the morning light;
Then from his mansion in the sun
She called her eagle to bear down,
And gave into his mighty hand
The symbol of her chosen land.
Majestic monarch of the cloud,
Who rear'st aloft thy regal form
To hear the tempest trumpings loud
And see the lightning lances driven,
When strive the warriors of the storm
And rolls the thunder drum of heaven;
Child of the sun, to thee 'tis given
To guard the banner of the free,
To hover in the sulphur smoke,
To ward away the battle stroke,
And bid its blendings shine afar,
Like rainbows on the cloud of war,
The harbingers of Victory.
Flag of the brave, thy folds shall fly,
The sigh of hope and triumph high,
When speaks the signal trumpet tone,
And the long line comes gleaming on.
Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet,
Has dimmed the glistening bayonet,
Each soldier eye shall brightly turn
To where thy sky-born glories burn,
And as his springing steps advance,
Catch war and vengeance from the glance;
And when the cannon mouthings loud
Heave in wild wreaths the battle shroud,
And gory sabres rise and fall,
And cowering foes shall shrink beneath
Each gallant arm that strikes below
That lovely messenger of death.
Flag of the seas, on oceans wave
Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave;
When death, careering in the gale,
Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail,
And frighted waves rush wildly back
Before the broadside's reeling rack,
Each dying wanderer of the sea
Shall look at once to heaven and thee,
And smile to see thy splendors fly
In triumph o'er his closing eye.
Flag of the free heart's hope and home,
By angel hands to valor given,
The stars have lit the welkin dome,
And all thy hues were born in heaven.
Forever float that standard sheet!
Where breathes a foe but falls before us,
With Freedom's soil beneath our feet,
And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us?
—Drake.
[FLAG DAY.]
Hats off! This is The Flag's birthday. The banner of blue, crimson and white, is one hundred and thirty-six years old, 1913. Honor the colors today. The flag represents more than just stars and stripes. It represents the history of the Great Republic from its cradle to this very moment:
"Sea fights and land fights, grim and great,
Fought to make and save the State;
Weary marches and sinking ships,
Cheers of victory on dying lips.
Sign of a nation, great and strong,
To ward her people from foreign wrong.
Pride and glory and honor all
Live in the colors, to stand or fall."
Throughout the country the D. A. R.'s are celebrating this great anniversary of our flag. Honor the flag. It belongs to every American citizen, whether we live under Northern or Southern skies, whether the American spirit is enthroned over civilization struggles with its problems upon the shores of the Pacific, or turns to problems as grave on this side.
And we are conquering the world under the emblem of Old Glory. The world turns to us as the maker of Peace, the mightiest since civilization's dawning, for genuine rule—those "common people," of whom Lincoln said, "The Lord must love them, he made so many."
The first flag hoisted on American soil about which we have any authentic record, was that seen by the earliest voyagers to our coasts. They found that the North American Indians carried a pole covered with wing feathers of the eagle as a standard.
Columbus, when he landed, October 12th, 1492, on the island of San Salvador, unfurled upon the shores of the new world the first European banners. The son of Columbus records that his father, dressed in scarlet, came ashore with the royal standard of Isabella emblazoned with the arms of Castile and Leon. He planted this standard together with its companion, a white flag with a green cross, on this small island. In the pictures of the ships of the time of Columbus these flags may be seen streaming from the ship's mast.
In 1499, the Eastern coast of South America was explored by the Florentine, Americus Vespucius. About the same time the Cabots planted the banners of England and of St. Mark of Venice on the North American shores.
The Red Cross of St. George was first raised on American shores at Jamestown, Virginia, in May 1607 and when the Pilgrims landed on Plymouth Rock in 1620 there floated from the mast of the Mayflower also the red cross of St. George. Our Pacific coast had been visited in the preceding century by Francis Drake, in his voyage around the world. Into the New York Harbor sailed Hudson with the Dutch flag, a tri-color, orange, white and blue. This banner, with the letters W. I. C., floated over Manhattan Island, proclaiming the rights of the Dutch West India Company. About the same time the Swedes floated their royal banner in the sunlight on the banks of the Delaware. This colony from the frozen north of Europe was so charmed with our country that to Cape Horn they gave the name of Paradise Point, and called their little settlement Christiana, after their far-away Queen.
During the period of our history known as Colonial and Provincial, the English flag was used from Maine to Georgia, with various devices and mottoes. Some flags were all red, with horizontal stripes, or red and blue stripes. Others were red, blue, white or yellow. The flags so frequently mentioned in the newspapers of 1774, were the ordinary English ensigns, bearing the Union Jack. These almost always bore a patriotic motto like "Liberty," "Liberty and Property," and "Liberty and Union."
So I could go on and dwell on the different flags, but I must hurry to our own, our native flag.
It is not generally known, and comes as a surprise to many, that the stars and stripes is one of the oldest National flags in existence, France being next; and England's present flag was not adopted until 1801.
The anniversary of the adoption of the Stars and Stripes by the Continental Congress, June 14th, 1777, should be observed by every American citizen.
In the year 1775, Congress appointed a Committee, of which Franklin was chairman, to consider and devise a national flag. This resulted in the adoption of the "King's colors," so called, as a union or corner stone, while thirteen stripes of alternate red and white stood as at present. This flag was publicly accepted, recognized and saluted at Washington's headquarters in Cambridge, Mass., January 2, 1776, from which fact it was often called the "Cambridge Flag," though sometimes the "Flag of the Union."
After the Declaration of Independence this flag lost its point, as nobody except the Tories wanted to see "King's colors." So in the Spring of 1777, Congress appointed another committee to design another suitable flag. George Washington and Robert Morris were members of the committee. So Washington and Robert Morris called upon Mrs. Elizabeth Ross, 239 Arch Street, Philadelphia, and from a pencil drawing of General Washington's, Mrs. Ross made the first flag. She suggested six pointed stars instead of five as Washington suggested and sketched. He accepted her suggestion, and so the flag was made.
Most interesting is the fact that the making of the American flag is largely woman's work. That the manufacture of flags has grown to be a large industry is proven by the fact that every year enough flags, great and small, are made to give one to every man, woman and child in the United States. Betsy Ross made flags for the government for many years; after her death, in 1836, her daughter, Mrs. Clarissa Wilson, succeeded to the business. Miss Sarah Wilson, great granddaughter of Betsy Ross, still makes duplicates of the original flag.
The great battle ships that are steaming around the world, flying our flag under circumstances that have made the nation assume a new importance in the eyes of millions who never before knew much about us, have the proper flag. It would never do for the American Government to fly an incorrect American Flag. It is a huge task to replace all the banners used. These are the facts, that keep busy hands at work, guiding the electrically driven sewing machines that take 3600 stitches a minute. Even though the machine that cuts the stars for the silk and wool bunting flags can create three thousand an hour, its operators have plenty to do. The stripes are cut from great rolls of colored bunting or silk, sometimes by skilled operatives, and again by machinery. The unions are cut in the same way. The stars are first pinned on the unions, and then sewed by machinery. That is, so far as the bunting flags are concerned. The silk flags are wholly hand work, even to the cutting out of the stars. The latter are embroidered on the blue field and then all the extra cloth is deftly scissored away.
The major number of small flags is printed. This is accomplished by the aid of the engraver and presses something like those on which newspapers are printed. Even in this mechanical work, women are found to be more serviceable than men. It always has been their field, and seems likely to so remain. There has been almost as much of an evolutionary process in the manufacture, as in the arrangement of the American flag.
On the same day that Congress adopted the stars and stripes, John Paul Jones received command of the Ranger, in Portsmouth. He immediately displayed the new flag at the main top, probably being the first person to hoist these colors over a United States warship. Jones is said to have remarked, pointing to the flag, "That flag and I are twins; we cannot part in life or in death. So long as we will float, we will float together; if we must sink, we shall go down as one."
The first recognition of our flag was by the flag of France. The first display over military forces took place on August 2, 1777, at Fort Stanwix, afterward Schuyler, New York. The fort was besieged by the British; its garrison had no colors, so they manufactured a standard of the approved pattern. They cut up their shirts as white material; for stars and stripes, an officer's coat supplied the blue; and small sections of red flannel undergarments furnished the third color. It is said that the flag thus pieced together was greeted with great enthusiasm and warmly defended.
The following September the stars and stripes were first displayed in battle at Brandywine. They first waved over a captured port at Nassau in the succeeding January. It was first borne around the world by Capt. John Kendrick, of the Ship Columbia, sailing from Boston in 1787. It had first been displayed in China, three years before, by Captain John Green, of the Empress. When the first ship appeared flying the Stars and Stripes, the new flag excited much interest and curiosity among the people of Canton. A strange new ship had arrived in port, they said, bearing a flag as beautiful as a flower, and everybody wanted to see the flower-flag ship. By this name of Flower-Flag the Chinese continued for many years to speak of our ensign, and its poetic beauty has often appealed to our own people. The sobriquet which appeals most strongly to the nation as a whole seems to be that of "Old Glory." Captain Stephen Driver was the first man to christen our flag "Old Glory." He was born at Salem, Mass., March 17, 1803. Just before he sailed on the brig Charles Doggett, in the year 1831, he was presented with a large American flag. As it was hoisted he called it "Old Glory" and this was the name he evermore used for it. This flag was always with the Captain on the sea and when he retired, he carried it home with him to Nashville, Tenn. His fondness for his flag was widely known, as also his being a Union man. During the late unpleasantness his neighbors desired to get hold of this particular flag but they searched his house and all in vain. The Captain had made a comforter out of it, having quilted the Old Glory with his own hands. He made his comforter his bed fellow. When peace was restored, he took the flag to the Capitol Building in Nashville. As he saw it on top of the building he exclaimed, "Now that Old Glory is up there, gentlemen, I am ready to die." He died in Nashville in 1886.
The original flag made by Betsy Ross remained unchanged until 1795. At this time, two new states had been added to the Union, Vermont and Kentucky, and it became evident some recognition of these States should appear upon the flag. Accordingly the number of stars was changed from thirteen to fifteen, though much opposition was shown to this change.
For twenty-three years the flag of thirteen stripes was the national standard. Under this banner, the United States fought and won three wars to maintain her existence. They were the wars with France in 1799, with the Barbary States in 1801, and with England in 1812. This was the "Star Spangled Banner" in honor of which Francis Scott Key composed our national song. A large national flag is kept floating over the grave of Francis Scott Key and is never taken down except to be replaced by a new one. This was the flag under which the good ship Constitution sailed.
In the year 1818, the number of States had increased to twenty, and five were in no way represented in the flag. Congress finally decided to have thirteen stripes, and a provision that for every State added to the Union a new star should appear in the galaxy upon the blue field, and that this star should appear upon the Fourth of July next following the admission of the new State. By this happy arrangement, the flag typifies at once the country as it was when first it became independent and as it is today. There is no law as to the method of arrangement for the stars, but the Army and Navy regulated this to suit themselves.
We think of ourselves as a new country, yet oddly enough our flag is one of the oldest in the world today. That of Denmark is the oldest European standard, dating back to 1219. Next is the Swiss flag, which was adopted in the seventeenth century.
In 1911, to the Army of the United States there were furnished 1207 storm and recruiting flags, 342 post flags, 31 garrison flags; the year previous, 1076 storm and 355 post flags. These sewed together would nearly, if not entirely, reach around the United States. Each battle ship of the American Navy is entitled to 250 flags every three years, though many are renewed oftener than this. The cost of the flags for each battle ship is about twenty-five hundred dollars, nothing small in this bill of Uncle Sam's for equipment, especially when you remember he has twenty-seven first and second class battleships in commission, to say nothing of the cruisers, torpedo boats, torpedo boat destroyers, submarine monitors, gun boats, supply ships, training and receiving ships, about seventy in all.
For the naval flags the United States uses up about forty-three thousand dollars worth of material every year; pays seventeen thousand dollars for wages, and produces an average of about sixty thousand flags of four hundred and eight different patterns. The material of which the flag is made must stand severe tests, for there are storms to be weathered and a sixty mile gale can whip average cloth to tatters. A strip of bunting two inches wide must have a strength of sixty-five pounds when proved on the testing machine. Two inches of filling must stand forty-five pounds. The bunting is American made and all wool and nineteen inches wide. It is washed for twenty-four hours in soap and fresh water and next day given a like treatment with salt water. Then for ten days it is exposed to the weather, thirty hours of sunshine being stipulated. The largest United States flag, 36 x 19, costs the government only forty dollars.
There is a statute law which prohibits the use of our flag for advertising purposes or decorating.
Where better can you realize the beauty of the American flag, and that which it represents, than when you see it flying over school houses or play grounds? The respect paid by the school children to the flag by rising and standing and with right hand raised to a line with their forehead while they pledge allegiance to their flag is most appropriate, but the pledge that appeals to me most is that for the children of the primary schools, which is, "I give my head and my heart to God and my country, one language and one flag."
When you see the hands of ten, nay, twenty, nationalities raised, while foreign tones mingle with those of our children expressing allegiance to one flag, where better can you realize the beauty of "Old Glory?" And though your word, your flag, your tiny nosegay may fall into the hands of just a
"Little dirty fellow, in a dirty part of town,
Where the windy panes are sooty and the roofs are tumble down;
Where the snow falls back in winter, and the melting, sultry heat,
Comes like pestilence in the summer through the narrow dirty street,"
you are giving into his hands the flag you would have him love, and in later years honor and defend.
The Sons of the Revolution print these regulations:
"The flag should not be hoisted before sunrise, nor allowed to remain up after sunset.
"At sunset spectators should stand at attention and uncover during the playing of 'Star Spangled Banner.' Military men are required to do so by regulation.
"When the national colors are passing on parade, or in review, the spectator should, if walking, halt; if sitting, arise and stand at attention, and uncover.
"In placing the flag at half staff, it should first be hoisted to the top of the staff and then lowered to position, and preliminary to lowering from half staff it should be first raised to the top."
There is one general rule for the care of the flag which should always be remembered. "Treat the flag of your country with respect—this is the fundamental idea. Whatever is disrespectful is forbidden in dealing with symbols of national existence. Do not let it be torn; if it should become snagged or torn accidentally, mend it at once. Do not let the flag be used in any way dishonorable."
I once heard of a flag used to cover the floor of a stage when an officer of the navy present took up the flag, saying: "I will never allow anyone to stand on the flag while I am present."
The national flag is raised on school buildings on all national or state holidays and on anniversaries of memorable events in our country's history. Most all schools now know the Star Spangled Banner and when it is brought forward every pupil rises and gives a military salute and distinctly repeats: "I pledge allegiance to my flag and to the Republic for which it stands, one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice to all."
The eye of the home-comer catches sight of the large American flag which floats from a steel pole 300 feet high at Mt. Claire, New Jersey, before even he sees the Statue of Liberty.
Here's our love to you, flag of the free and flag of the tried and true;
Here's our love to your streaming stripes and your stars in a field of blue;
Native or foreign, we're children all of the land over which you fly,
And native or foreign, we love the land for which it were sweet to die.
On June 14, 1777, in old Independence Hall, Philadelphia, Congress adopted the following resolution:
Resolved, That the flag of the thirteen United States be thirteen stripes, alternate red and white; that the union be thirteen stars, white in a blue field, representing a new constellation, the stars to be arranged in a circle.
It was thirty-seven years before the Song to Immortality, the name of our Star Spangled Banner, was written.
[END OF THE REVOLUTION.]
By Rev. Thomas B. Gregory.
The last battle of the Revolutionary war was fought at Blue Lick, Kentucky, August 20, 1782.
England died hard, and in ways that were far from being in strict keeping with international law tried to postpone the final surrender as long as she could. It was in consequence of such tactics that the battle of Blue Lick was fought.
On the 16th of August, 1782, a force of several hundred Canadians and Wyandotte Indians laid siege to Bryan's Station, some five miles from the present city of Lexington, the capital of the famous Blue Grass region.
The next day a party of 180 frontiersmen, commanded by Daniel Boone, John Todd and Stephen Trigg, hastened to the rescue, notwithstanding the fact that they were greatly outnumbered by the enemy.
Upon reaching the near neighborhood of the station a council of war was held to determine upon the line of attack. Boone's advice was to march silently up the river and fall upon the rear of the enemy, while, at the same time, the main attack should be delivered in front.
Unfortunately, this sensible advice was spoiled by the rash action of a major named McGray, who dashed his horse into the river, shouting: "Let all who are not cowards follow me." Of course, McGray's action was madness, but it was a madness that became instantly contagious, and soon most of the men were fording the stream hard after the rash major.
Crossing without molestation they reached the top of the ridge, when their troubles began in dead earnest. From front and flanks they received a deadly fire from the Indians and their Canadian allies. They had been ambushed, and the invisible foe shot them down like dogs.
Outnumbered three to one, and presently quite surrounded, they fought like the brave men they were until they realized that to remain longer was to be annihilated, whereupon they broke through the fiery cordon and escaped as best they could.
Sixty-seven Kentuckians were killed outright and many of the wounded were afterward massacred. The loss of the Canadians and Wyandottes was never known, as they carried away their killed and wounded.
But the redmen made no more trouble for Kentucky. The treaty of peace deprived them of their British backing, and the United States was left to deal with them after its own way. The memory of the brave fight that was put up by the handful of frontiersmen lingered with them, and, with no hope of help from England, they gave the Kentuckians a grand letting alone.
Such, in brief, is the story of the last battle of the war of the Revolution. Beginning away up in Massachusetts, the great struggle ended at Blue Lick, Kentucky, a region that was an unknown wilderness when the struggle began.
[COUNTIES OF GEORGIA BEARING INDIAN NAMES.]
Seven of the counties in Georgia have been named to perpetuate the memory of the first American, the Indian. Of peculiar interest is the derivation and meaning of the names of these counties.
Catoosa: Gatusi in Cherokee language and means "mountain."
Chattahoochee: (Creek: Chatu "rock" hutchas "mark," "design": "pictured rocks"). A former Lower Creek town on the upper waters of Chattahoochee River to which it gave its name; seemingly in the present Harris County, Georgia. So called from some pictured rocks at that point.
Chatooga: (Also Chatuga, a corruption of the Cherokee Tsatugi, possibly meaning "he drank by sips," or "he has crossed the stream and come out on the other side," but more likely of foreign origin).
Cherokee: The tribal name is a corruption of Tsalagi or Tsaragi, the name by which they commonly called themselves, and which may be derived from the Choctaw Chilukki, "cave people," in allusion to the numerous caves in their mountain country.
Coweta: (Kawita). The name of the leading tribe among the Lower Creeks, whose home was at one time on the Ocmulgee, and later on the western side of Chattahoochee below the falls. According to one old Creek tradition the name means "those who follow us," and was given them by the Kasihta Indians, another Creek tribe who traditionally marched in advance when the Creeks invaded Alabama and Georgia.
Muscogee: (Muscogee, properly Maskoki) meaning unknown. Its derivation has been attributed to an Algonquian term signifying "swamp" or "open marshy land." Muscogee is the name by which the dominant tribe of the Creek confedracy knows itself and is known to other tribes.
Oconee: Was the name of a tribe which anciently lived on Oconee River, but subsequently moved first to the east bank of the Chattahoochee and later to Florida where it found a nucleus of the people later known as Seminoles. Oconee, their chief town, was situated, according to Hawkins, about four miles below Milledgeville. Weekachumpa, their chief, known to the English as Long King, and one of his warriors were among the Indians assembled to welcome Oglethorpe when he arrived in Georgia in 1732.—Compiled by Mrs. J. S. Lowrey.
[STORY OF EARLY INDIAN DAYS.]
A pretty story of early times in America is that of the restoration of a little girl to her parents by the Indians. It is quoted from Currey's "Story of Old Fort Dearborn," by the New York Post. The child, who was nine years old at the time of her capture in western Pennsylvania, was well treated, came to regard the chief and his mother with love and reverence, learned their language and customs, and almost forgot her own. At the end of four years, this chief was invited by a colonel who was very popular with the red men to bring the girl to a council fire at Ft. Niagara. He accepted the invitation upon condition that there should be no effort to reclaim the child. When the boat in which the chief and his captive had crossed the Niagara River touched the bank, the girl sprang into the arms of her waiting mother. The chief was deeply moved. "She shall go," he said. "The mother must have her child again. I will go back alone." In the words of her daughter-in-law, who wrote of this period many years afterward:
"With one silent gesture of farewell he turned and stepped on board the boat. No arguments or entreaties could induce him to remain at the council; but having gained the other side of the Niagara, he mounted his horse, and with his young men was soon lost in the depths of the sheltered forests."
The girl became the wife of John Kinzie, "Chicago's pioneer."
[CHIEF VANN HOUSE.]
At the foot of one of the highest peaks of Cohuttah Mountains in North Georgia, there stood, one late autumn day, an Indian girl, the daughter of a Cherokee Chief, and her half-breed lover.
As they talked she told him how the young men of her tribe hated him and how they taunted her about her pale faced lover, and told her he would be cruel and false to her. The old chiefs had told her of the great white chief, DeSoto, who had built the fort on this very mountain where they stood, when he rested in his journey from the Indian village, Chiaha (the place where the city of Rome, Ga., now stands). They told her how cruelly his followers had treated her people, tearing down their wigwams, desecrating their graves, in their search for Tau-lan-neca (yellow money) and they warned her that he belonged to that same cruel race.
He answered her, his heart swelling with love for his father's people, that they were not false and cruel but kind and good. He told her of his recent trip to Washington where he had gone as interpreter for their great Chief, Ridge, who loved the white people. He said they had seen the great white father and he had talked kindly to them and had advised them to sell their lands to the white people who would pay them well for it and would give them lands just as beautiful in the far west, which would be theirs as long as "grass grew and water ran."
He told her that if her people should be guided by Chief Ridge, and go to this far away land, he, too, would go with them and try to make her happy among her own people. If they did not go he would stay among them and build her a house like the white people lived in, a house good and strong that would last as long as their love, which would be forever. (It seems a prophecy for it is still standing).
He kept his promise to her and the house he dreamed of was built. What a marvelous thing it was to those savage people to watch the building of this house, with its carved mantels that reach to the ceiling, and the wonderful spiral stairway that excites the admiration of the skilled workmen of today and the hinges of the doors of beaten brass.
This palefaced lover little dreamed of what the future held in store, that he (David Vann) should become a chief of his Nation and go again to Washington with Chief Ridge and bring back to their tribe the purchase money for their lands, how dissensions had arisen among them in regard to the division of the money, how he buried the money near his home and how the wife that loved him begged him not to tell her where he buried it for fear the Indians would come and torture her and make her tell where it was buried.
Little did he dream that he and Chief Ridge would be basely murdered by the Indians.
This house has never been known by any other name but the Chief Vann house. It is impossible to find out the exact time it was built, as there were no white people living here at that time. White, in his Georgia Statistics, says that when the Moravian Mission was started in Spring Place that Chief Vann gave them the land for their buildings near his house and sent his children to their school. That was in 1802, so the house had been built before that date.
Judge George Glenn in a published article has told of Chief Vann's later life, his marriage to an Indian princess, his visits to Washington, his receiving and burying the gold, and his murder by the Indians, all of which is authentic.
The material for the house was said to have been carried on the backs of Indian ponies from Savannah, Ga., but other accounts say that Chief Vann taught the Indians to make and burn the brick there.
Thus ends the romance, mingled truth, and tradition, but the house in fairly good repair is still standing in Spring Place, Ga., today. This little town was the only place of any size at that time. In the jail at this place John Howard Payne was imprisoned, accused of being a spy. The jail is still standing.—Mrs. Warren Davis, Historian, John Milledge Chapter, D. A. R., Dalton, Ga.
[INDIAN TALE.]
"Grandfather, tell me about the Indians," said little Annie Daniel, as she climbed upon the arm of a large rocking chair in which Mr. Abel Daniel was sitting, dreaming of the past with its many varied experiences. The person thus addressed had even now reached his fourscore years and ten, yet his mind was keenly alert, his carriage erect and his immaculate dress revealed the "Gentlemen of the old school." Washington County, Georgia, was proud to claim so distinguished a son, so valiant a hero and such a cultured gentleman. Capt. Daniel had survived three noted wars; the "War of 1812," the Indian and the Mexican, in all of which he had been a true soldier and had won honor for his home and native state. His gallant service in the wars with the British and the Mexicans interested the grown people. How he helped General Gaines and his men capture the little village in Clay County on the banks of the Chattahoochee, which is now called Fort Gaines and drive the Indians back into Florida, always delighted the young boys and his lullabies sung in the Indian language pleased little Annie, but tonight she begged for a real Indian story.
"Well, dear, I shall tell you of one which relates to my own life and is really a great part of it," said grandfather. "After helping to expel the Indians from our borders, I decided to go live with them for a time in order to learn their crafts and become better acquainted with a people whom I believed to be honest and loyal."
"Having crossed the border and tied my handkerchief to a leafy branch and waived it aloft as a flag of truce, they quickly responded and gave me a most cordial welcome. During the seven years of my stay with them, I was known as the 'White Man' and treated as some superior being. The best of all they possessed was at my command and they counted nothing too dear that would add to my pleasure. I was made a sharer in all their hunting and fishing sports, having been presented with one of their very best ponies.
"All went well until one day I discovered that the Chief was plotting a marriage between me and his beautiful daughter. As a marriage dowry he would present us with several barrels of specie, thus showing in what esteem he held me. I could never think of marrying this Indian maiden so I at once began to plan my escape. The next day I rode my pony as far as possible, taking my gun along as a pretense of hunting, but returned the following day with my game. After letting my pony rest a day I started out a second time to test her strength still further. This time I stayed two days and two nights and decided my pony was equal to any undertaking. After a second rest we started out the third time and made a safe flight across the line to my own people.
"Before reaching the old homestead a neighbor had informed me of my father's death and my mother's total blindness. The dear old soul was seated on the porch as I rode up; near her was a water bucket over which was hanging a long handled gourd. Just as her feeble hands reached out for the gourd, I handed it to her, saying; 'Here it is, mother.' She recognized my voice as that of her baby boy and fainted away. From that day I never left my aged mother, but tried to make amends for the sorrow my wanderings must have caused, by attending to her every want and making her last days as comfortable, happy and free from care as ever a loving child could.
"My Indian pony was treasured as a relic of the years spent with the Indians and my fortunate escape from the hand of his daughter.
"But my little girl is getting sleepy, so kiss grandfather good night, and he'll tell you more another time."—Mrs. Annie (Daniel) Clifton, Stone Castle Chapter, D. A. R.
[WILLIAM WHITE AND DANIEL BOONE.]
In 1750, William White and Daniel Boone settled at what is now known as Bull Bradley Springs in Tennessee. The Indian trail from the Hiwassee town Northward, passed near this home.
One evening, two of the boys, aged ten and twelve, went out into the forest to cut and prepare wood for the night. When darkness came on and the boys did not return, a search was made and their axe was found leaning against a small hickory tree which the boys must have been cutting down when they stopped their work. Signs of Indians were discovered. These were followed next morning and were found to lead into the Indian trail. There seemed to have been a large party of the Indians going Northward. The pursuers failed to overtake the Indians and despite all their efforts were unable to rescue the boys.
Years afterward an officer in Wisconsin had published, for the benefit of any relatives of the parties concerned, that two white men, past middle age, had been found with one of the Northwest tribes. These men had forgotten all knowledge of the English language. They remembered that they had been captured by Indians while engaged in cutting wood and that their captors had brought them many miles, but in what direction they were uncertain.
This description, though meager, made all certain that these men were no others than the lost sons of William White. They had become so thoroughly "Indianized" that they refused to leave the tribe and come back to their people.
On the day of the boys' capture, William White was getting out a rock for a hearth. These rocks were cut from a single stone, and were called "Hath-stones." When no trace of his boys could be found, Mr. White went on with his hearth making, laying the "hath-stone" in its place, and on it he carved the date of their capture. The stone is still to be seen in a hearth in the home now located where White's house stood. The date and names are plainly visible. Some of White's descendants still reside in the historical home.—Roberta G. Turner, Xavier Chapter, D. A. R., Rome, Ga.
[A LEGEND OF LOVER'S LEAP, COLUMBUS, GEORGIA.]
One mile above the city of Columbus, Georgia, the Chattahoochee's turbid waters dash, fret and foam in angry surges over and among a group of giant bowlders forming what was called by the Red Men of the forest, "Tumbling Falls."
From the eastern bank of the river rises a rugged, perpendicular cliff to a lofty height, which is covered almost to its verge by majestic trees, vines and shrubs of a semi-tropical growth. This is crowned by a colossal bowlder of dark granite, and from its summit is one of the most magnificent and picturesque views of river scenery that nature has produced.
This is "Lover's Leap," famous in song and story; where the "Young Eagle" of the Cowetas clasped to his brave heart the bright "Morning Star" of the Cussetas and leaped into the deep, restless waters below.
The Alabama hills, forming a long, undulating chain, and covered with verdant beauty, arise across the river, which, below the precipice, flows gently onward until it reaches the city limits, where the waters again dash with insane fury over clustering bowlders and form the Coweta Falls, which are there arrested and utilized by the palefaced stranger to turn thousands of looms and spindles for his own use and profit.
A short distance below the Leap is the "Silver Wampum," a lovely stream of pellucid water, which rises beneath a clump of sweet-scented bays and magnolias, and flows and quivers in sunlight and moonlight, like a silver girdle, along its green and flowerdecked banks, until it reaches a rocky bed, where it falls by a succession of cascades, which form an exquisite fringe to the "Wampum" before dropping into the Chattahoochee.
There the beautiful "Morning Star" would often sit indulging in love dreams, as she beaded the gay moccasins, bags and wampums, while the "Young Eagle" followed the chase. There he would bring her the first fruits and flowers of the season.
From some warmer climate unknown to his rivals he would often procure boughs of the fragrant calycanthus, queenly magnolias and sweet-smelling jasmines, and secretly adorn this sylvan retreat in anticipation of her coming, long before the native buds began to expand their beauty. Frequently she would be startled in her blissful reveries by the rolled petal of a magnolia falling like a great snow-flake at her feet.
This she recognized as a private dispatch from "The Young Eagle," Cohamoteker (blow gun) to apprise her of his approach and hastily arising she would eagerly await his coming.
At a later date, when duty required her attentions at the wigwam, she would frequently find rare products of the chase suspended without. This was always prepared with unusual care, and relished by her father, the chief, who was too old to indulge often in his favorite pastime, and was somewhat dependent upon his braves for many luxuries of that kind.
Consequently, he did not question the source from which they came, but when particularly pleased with his repast he would say:
"Yaho Hadjo (Crazy Wolf) is good. In his wigwam will be found the richest venison and rarest birds of the air. He is a worthy mate for the Morning Star!"
When a child she had been betrothed to Young Eagle, the noble son of the Coweta chief. Their love had grown with their growth and strengthened with their strength, until it had reached an intensity where death appeared preferable to a life apart.
A rivalry had suddenly sprung up between the two tribes, who had so long smoked the calumet of peace together. The pledged word of the veterans was broken, and a feud more deadly than that of the Montagues and Capulets then existed between the brave Cowetas and Cussetas, who were of equal prowess.
The aged chief of the latter could no longer follow the warpath with the alacrity of his youth, but by the council fire all did reverence to his eloquence, and were ready to rally at his battle-cry.
His lion-hearted sons, the pride of a war-like sire, had gone in the vigor of their early manhood to the Spirit Land and the chieftain stood alone, like a giant oak of the forest, stately and grand in age and decay, with the once vigorous branches all leafless and dead save one, which still flourished in pristine beauty.
His daughter, with her starry eyes and step as fleet and graceful as a wild fawn, was the idol of his heart. In childhood he had called her "Minechee" (smart, active.) As she grew in stature and beauty, twining herself more closely around his heart, he called her "The Morning Star," for she would arise with the birds, and often waken him from slumber with songs and merry laughter while preparing for his comfort.
By the latter name she was known among the tribe.
"The Morning Star is up and shames the laggard to the chase! He should have been over the hills and far away."
The young warriors likened her to some ideal being, who basked in the smile of the Great Spirit, and worshiped her with truly loyal hearts. If we could raise the curtain of time, and read the thoughts that agitated the dusky bosoms of those fearless young braves, it would be evident that the affection and attention lavished on their old chief was partially due to their admiration for the bright and beautiful Morning Star.
Among her many suitors was Yaho Hadjo, who had cunningly ingratiated himself into her father's favor, and had long vainly sought the hand and heart of the bright-eyed maiden. In his fierce wrath, he had secretly vowed vengeance against a more successful rival. Under the garb of friendship and loyalty to his chief, he had secured a firm footing in his wigwam, and thus constituted himself a spy on the actions of the unsuspecting daughter.
She had waited long and patiently, hoping that time would soften the feud and remove every impediment to her union with the peerless Young Eagle, while he had endeavored to conciliate his tribe by every possible means that a brave warrior could to restore peace to the nation.
Alas! jealousy, that hydra-headed monster, had completely enslaved the heart of Yaho Hadjo, and at its bidding he continued to secretly add fresh fuel to each expiring flame until it had reached enormous proportions, and open hostilities seemed inevitable.
The lovers no longer dared to meet by day, but beside the Silver Wampum, when the Great Spirit marshalled his starry hosts through the blue vaulted sky, they met to renew vows of eternal love.
The stealthy footsteps of Yaho Hadjo had followed the Morning Star to the trysting place, and his watchful eye had witnessed the tender meeting with the Young Eagle.
The plans of the jealous rival were immediately formed with characteristic craftiness. He then cautiously retraced his steps and sought the presence of his chief.
Into his ear the wily creature whispered a malignant falsehood of broken faith, treachery and a contemplated raid by the Cowetas upon the Cussetas.
The old warrior's anger was instantly aroused. With all the venom of his nature rankling in his savage heart, he arose to give the war-whoop to his sleeping braves.
But Yaho Hadjo urged extreme caution, saying the Young Eagle was the ruling spirit and instigator of the intended diabolical assault, and was perhaps now prowling around like a hungry fox with a hope of capturing the Morning Star. A better and surer plan would be to offer privately a handsome reward for the person or scalp of the Young Eagle.
By that means the villainous savage thought to have his unsuspecting rival cruelly assassinated and his body secretly disposed of without arousing any suspicion of the dark deed among the Cowetas.
He doubted not the success of his cowardly undertaking; and then, without opposition, he would secure the beautiful maiden for his squaw.
He dared not insinuate to the chief that his daughter would have been a willing captive, for he had confidence in her integrity, and knew she would never forsake him to link her fate with his enemy. She had made a promise to this effect, and the Morning Star never dealt falsely.
At the conclusion of Yaho Hadjo's heartless suggestion, the old man bowed his head in troubled thought for a brief period, and then rising to his full stature, he said:
"Yes, yes; it is best! Go say to my young warriors that he who brings the chief the person or scalp from the dead head of the daring Young Eagle of the base Cowetas, shall wear on his brave heart the Morning Star of the Cussetas."
Yaho Hadjo hastened to arouse a few sleeping braves from their couches and they hurried forth rapidly but noiselessly to the Silver Wampum.
The unsuspecting lovers were totally oblivious of surrounding danger, and loth to separate, they lingered for a last farewell and final embrace, when stealthy footsteps were heard approaching.
They gave a startled glance around and beheld Yaho Hadjo and his followers with uplifted tomahawks rushing madly upon them.
Minchee threw her arms wildly around her lover.
For a brief second the assailants halted, not daring to strike the daughter of their chief.
The Young Eagle clasped her firmly to his bosom and bounded away with the speed of an antelope, he knew not wither.
Onward, over rocks and dells he flew with his precious burden, her arms thrown protectingly around and above him. Upon the narrow defile to the fearful precipice he bore her and then suddenly halted. He thought to release her there, believing she could return safely to her father, but she grappled to him as though her slight arms were hooks of steel.
The hot breath of the hated rival was felt upon his cheek, and his tomahawk flashed like a meteor above him.
The Young Eagle gave the would-be assassin one proud, defiant glance, and folding the Morning Star in a closer embrace, he leaped into the foaming torrent below.
Yaho Hadjo's uplifted weapon fell forward with a sudden impetus which forced him headlong down the lofty pinnacle, among the sharp, rugged bowlders, where his body was afterwards found a mangled, lifeless corpse.
The remaining warriors were transfixed with horror and dismay as they gazed wildly into the furious river.
To attempt a rescue would have been folly and madness, as no breathing creature could have survived the fall.
Slowly and sadly they then retraced their steps and silently entered the presence of the childless patriarch.
Alarmed by the expression of their grief-stricken faces he exclaimed:
"Where is Yaho Hadjo? Why does the Morning Star linger in the forest?"
The boldest of them dropped his head and answered slowly and hoarsely:
"The Great Spirit has taken her from us to brighten his own beautiful land. She will come no more to gladden our hearts. The Morning Star will never beam on the hunter's pathway again!"
The chief listened in silence, but evidently did not comprehend. An explanation was sternly demanded.
At length the sad story was told with all of its tender and heart-rending details.
He realized at last his total bereavement, and acknowledged it was the result of Yaho Hadjo's jealousy and falsehood. Fierce and vindictive was the malediction pronounced upon the cowardly murderer.
A dead calm followed; then rising and clasping his hands high above his head, he stood for a moment like a splendid bronze statue of despair, and in singularly pathetic tones exclaimed:
"Minechee! Minechee! Bright Morning Star! Sole treasure of my aged heart! Gone, gone, forever, and I am desolate!"
He gave one long, low, piercing wail and tottering as a tree beneath the final stroke of the woodman's axe, he fell prostrate to the earth.
His companions exerted themselves in behalf of the stricken chieftain and partially succeeded in restoring him to consciousness, but he refused to be comforted and declined all nourishment.
After a prolonged interval of silence, he arose, quitted their presence and slowly descended the hill to a ravine in the bluffs and seated himself.
He signified a desire to be alone. He wished to humble himself before the Great Spirit, that he might take pity on him. Finding he could not be persuaded to leave the place, his braves stretched a mat above his bowed head and placing food and water within reach they left him alone in his sorrow.
A few days after they found him occupying the same position, but cold and lifeless.—Mrs. Mary Cook.
[INDIAN MOUND, EARLY COUNTY, GEORGIA.]
On the outskirts of Blakely, County Seat of Early County, and commanding a view of a beautiful stretch of landscape, rises the famous old Indian Mound, supposed to have been made by the Creek Indians, who hunted and fished and roved so happily through the tall pines and magnolias, the great oaks and low marshes. While tradition associates this particular mound with the Creeks and Cherokees, it has been argued by scientists that it must have been built by a race of people who preceded the Indians and were partly civilized; however, that may be, the visitor to Early has missed a rare bit of romance and historic thought, who fails to see the Indian Mound, reminiscent as it is of the sacredness of a brave race, now almost extinct.
The Mound is fully seventy-five feet high and is almost five hundred feet in circumference. It is covered with large trees of oak and the same dense foliage of bamboo, pine and cedar as that which grows so profusely over the surrounding country as far as the eye can reach. The picturesque and fertile valleys below have now become a favorite place for pleasure seekers each spring, for picnic grounds and camping, and the Indian Mound cannot fail to impress the most heedless as it rises mysteriously and majestic. Parties in search of buried treasures have penetrated the Mound to a depth of fifty feet, but nothing has ever been found except human bones. Then later scientists have sunk a shaft in the very center of this Mound to a great depth and have reached a mass of bones five feet in thickness. Nothing to throw light upon the builders of this huge old relic has ever been unearthed but bones, and the people of the County, with interested visitors, have nearly all associated the site with the Indians who inhabited so thickly this part of Georgia before Early County was created.
Early County was created by Legislature, October 1818, and included then the Counties of Baker, Calhoun, Decatur, Miller, Mitchell and Dougherty. It was named in honor of George Peter Early, Chief Executive of Georgia in 1813. Governor Early, previous to the purchase of these lands from the Indians, had rendered great service to the white settlers here in protecting them from the Indians, in both their treaties with the Indians and in protection to their lives. In gratitude for this service Early County was named.
While it has never been positively decided whether the Mound Builders or the Indians are the original makers of Indian Mound, it stands a grim memorial of a dead and gone race, worthy of a visit, with its great trees yellow with age, and weeds and moss overgrown, the only epitaphs to the mystery within its depths.—Mrs. Walter Thomas, Regent, Governor Peter Early Chapter, D. A. R.
[STORIETTE OF STATES DERIVED FROM INDIAN NAMES.]
So many States are derived from Indian names, so I write this storiette, using all that have Indian origin.
Illinois—Tribe of Red Men.
Alabama—Here we rest.
Arizona—Small Springs.
Arkansas—Bend in the Smoky Water.
Connecticut—Long River.
Idaho—Gun of the Mountain.
Indiana—Indian's Land.
Iowa—Beautiful Land.
Kansas—Smoky Water.
Kentucky—At the head of the river.
Massachusetts—Place of Blue Hills.
Michigan—Fish Wier.
Mississippi—Great Father of Water.
Missouri—Muddy (River).
Nebraska—Water Valley.
North and South Dakota, allies:
Ohio—Beautiful River.
Oklahoma—Home of the Red Men.
Tennessee—River with a Great Bend.
Texas—Friends.
Utah—Ute.
Wisconsin—Gathering of the waters.
Wyoming—Great Plains.
Once upon a time a tribe of Red Men (Illinois) set out to find a Plan of the Blue Hills (Massachusetts.) Their canoes were safely launched in the Long River (Connecticut). At the Bend in the Smoky Water (Arkansas) they were surprised to see a canoe coming their way and that it was guided by a maid Minnehaha, the beautiful daughter of Uakomis of the Ute (Utah) Tribe of Indians. "Young maid" said the gallant Chief Hiawatha, "Is this where the Indians Land?" (Indiana). "Yes," replied the maid, "This Water Valley (Nebraska) is the home of the Red Men" (Oklahoma). Then spoke the Chief, who had at once been attracted to the Maid: "This is indeed a Beautiful Land (Iowa) and I dare say you are the Gem of the Mountain" (Idaho). The maid smiled and said: "I hope we will be friends" (Texas.) "Let us row to the Head of the River" (Kentucky). As they drifted near the bank they decided to tarry by the Beautiful River (Ohio). "Here we rest" (Alabama), said Hiawatha and whispered words of love. As they returned to the other members of their tribe, who had pitched their tents on the mountain side by some Small Springs (Arizona) each man looked up as the two approached and read the happiness that was theirs, by their smiling faces. "We will return" said Hiawatha, "to Nakomis and his Allies, of the Great Plains near the River" (Missouri), "the Great Father of Waters (Mississippi), and there on the Banks of the Sky-Tinted Water (Minnesota) we will pitch our Wigwam near the Fish Wier (Michigan) and there watch the gathering of the Waters (Wisconsin) and live in peace and happiness until we journey to our Happy Hunting Ground."—Mrs. Will Chidsey, Rome, Ga., Xavier Chapter, D. A. R.
[SEQUOIA, INVENTOR OF THE CHEROKEE ALPHABET.]
The invention of the Cherokee alphabet by Sequoia, or George Guess, in 1815, was the most remarkable achievement in the history of the Indian tribes of America.
Sequoia was in appearance and habits, a full Cherokee, though he was the grandson of a white man. He was born in Tennessee about 1765, and he lived at one time near Chiaha, now Rome, Georgia, but for some years before the Cherokees were moved to the West, he lived at Alpine, in Chattooga County, on what was later known as the Samuel Force plantation.
This American Cadmus was an illiterate Cherokee Indian. He could neither write or speak English, and in his invention of the alphabet he had to depend entirely on his own native resources.
He was led to think on the subject of writing the Cherokee language, by a conversation which took place one evening at Santa. Some young men were remarking on the superior talents of the white people. They saw that the whites could "put a talk" on paper and send it to any distance, and it would be understood by those who received it. This seemed strange to the Indians, but Sequoia declared he could do it himself; and picking up a flat stone, he scratched on it with a pin, and after a few minutes read to his friends a sentence which he had written, by making a mark for each word. This produced only a laugh among his companions. But the inventive powers of Sequoia's mind were now aroused to action, and nothing short of being able to write the Cherokee language would satisfy him. In examining the language he found that it is composed of the various combinations of about ninety mono-sylables and for each of these sylables he formed a character. Some of the characters were taken from an English spelling book, some are English letters turned upside down, some are his own invention; each character in the Cherokee alphabet stands for a monosylable.
From the structure of the Cherokee dialect, the syllabic alphabet is also in the nature of a grammar, so that those who know the language by ear, and master the alphabet, can at once read and write. Owing to the extreme simplicity of this system, it can be acquired in a few days.
After more than two year's work his system was completed. Explaining to his friends his new invention, he said, "we can now have speaking papers as well as white men."
But he found great difficulty in persuading his people to learn it; nor could he succeed, until he went to Arkansas and taught a few persons there, one of whom wrote a letter to a friend in Chiaha and sent it by Sequoia, who read it to the people. This excited much curiosity. Here was "talk in the Cherokee language," come from Arkansas sealed in a paper. This convinced many, and the newly discovered art was seized with avidity by the people of the tribe, and, from the extreme simplicity of the plan, the use of it soon became general. Any one, on fixing in his memory the names and forms of the letters, immediately possessed the art of reading and writing. This could be acquired in one day.
The Cherokees, (who, as a people, had always been illiterate) were, in the course of a few months, able to read and write in their own language. They accomplished this without going to school.
The Cherokee Council adopted this alphabet in 1821, and in a short time the bible and other books were printed in the language, and a newspaper, The Cherokee Phoenix, devoted entirely to the interests of the Indians, was published, in 1826, at New Echota, the capitol of the Cherokee Nation, situated about five miles west of Calhoun, in Gordon County, Georgia.
This paper was edited by Chief Elias Bondinot, one of the signers of the New Echota Treaty.
Sequoia spent much of his time with his kindred who had already gone to the West, and a few years after the final removal of the Cherokees from Georgia, he was instrumental in establishing several newspapers in their new home.
This Indian remains today the only man, in the long history of the aborigines, who has done anything for the real and lasting benefit of the race. His Cherokee alphabet is in general use by every Indian tribe in America.
Scientists have honored him by naming the largest tree that grows in California the Sequoia Gigantia. This name was given to the big red wood tree by Dr. Eulicher, the famous Hungarian botanist, who was born 1804 and died 1849. The tree is native to California and is the largest known, often measuring thirty to thirty-six feet in diameter, height from two hundred to four hundred feet, bark is often fifteen inches thick.
In 1908, a specimen of the Sequoia Gigantia came in a letter from California. The tiny sprig was five inches high and one-eighth of an inch in diameter, and was planted on Myrtle Hill cemetery in Rome, Georgia. It is now (1913) about thirty inches high and one inch in diameter.
The Sequoia Gigantia is an evergreen monument to the American Cadmus, a one-time resident of Rome, Georgia.
In his honor, Oklahoma has named a County Sequoyah.—Beatrice O'Rear Treadaway, Xavier Chapter, D. A. R.
[THE BOY AND HIS ARROW.]
The Barbadoes or Windward Islands have long been the territory of Great Britain and her colonies were planted there as early as on the main land of America.
Early in the eighteenth century dissatisfaction arose concerning taxes and other injustices, and some of these colonists removed to the continent, chiefly to Virginia and the Carolinas. Among these was Edmond Reid, with his family, landing at Norfolk, Virginia. He brought with him quite a number of slaves. These slaves were remarkable in many ways. They must have been part Carib; they had thin lips, straight noses and arched feet. They were erect and alert. Some of these slaves in the fourth generation came to my mother and were above the ordinary African and were so dark they evidently had no Caucasian blood.
John Reid, son of Edmond Reid, married Elizabeth Steppe, and served in the Revolution. James, the son of John and Elizabeth, was born during the Revolution, February 21st, 1778. Archery was a great sport in those days, handed down no doubt from our British ancestry and kept alive by the bows and arrows of the Indians, some of whom were still among the neighbors in the colonies. At twelve years of age James Reid was shooting arrows, and as an experiment shot one up straight toward the sky. Quickly it went up, but more quickly, with accelerated speed it returned and pierced the eye of the little archer. Painfully the arrow (in this case a pin point) was taken from the eye. Youth and a fine constitution combined to heal the wound without disfigurement of the eye, and so he seemed to have two perfect eyes, while one was sightless.
Our young Republic was just beginning to try her powers when England provoked the war of 1812. James Reid, now in the prime of manhood, enlisted when the British threatened New Orleans. As many others did, he left his wife and two little ones at home under the protection of slaves.
A few days after his return from the war, on a summer day, a pain came to the eye pierced so long ago by the arrow. The local physician was sent for, but his lotions and applications failed to give relief. At that time no surgeon, except those perhaps in France, understood surgery of the eye. So nature took her course, seemingly a cruel, dreadful course. The suffering man could neither sleep nor eat and finally could not stay in the house. He went out under the trees in the grove and when unable to stand rolled around on the grass in great agony. His wife and children and servants followed him with cold water and pillows—a sorrowing and helpless procession. After several days and nights the abscess in his eye bursted and gave instant relief. All the fluids of the eye escaped leaving it sightless and shrunken, and so it remained ever after. I never see a shrunken eye but what I recall the old man, so spirited, so cheery, so kind, our own grandfather who passed away many years ago—Mrs. R. H. Hardaway, Regent, Sarah Dickinson Chapter, D. A. R.