BRIEF ANECDOTES.
The worthy acts of women to repeat.
Mirror for Magistrates.
Immediately after the dreadful massacre of Virginia colonists, on the twenty-second of March, 1622, Governor Wyat issued an order for the remainder of the people to "draw together" into a "narrow compass;"[91] and most of the eighty plantations were forthwith abandoned. Among the persons who remained at their homes, was Mrs. Proctor, whom Dr. Belknap calls "a gentlewoman of an heroic spirit."[92] She defended her plantation against the Indians a full month, and would not have abandoned it even then, had not the officers of the colony obliged her to do so.
One of the best women of her times was Experience West, wife of the Rev. Dr. West, who was pastor of a church in New Bedford, Massachusetts, for nearly half a century. Her life abounded in praiseworthy, though unrecorded, deeds. The Doctor was aware of the worth of his "help-meet," and had a punning way of praising her which must have sounded odd in a Puritan divine a hundred years ago. She was unusually tall, and he sometimes remarked to intimate friends, that he had found, by long Experience, that it is good to be married.
The Rev. Dr. Mather Byles, of Boston, a tory of considerable notoriety, paid unsuccessful addresses to a young lady who subsequently gave her hand to a gentleman of the name of Quincy. Meeting her one day, the Doctor remarked: "So, madam, it appears that you prefer a Quincy to Byles." "Yes," she replied, "for if there had been any thing worse than biles, God would have afflicted Job with them."[93]
A married Shawnee woman was once asked by a man who met her in the woods, to look upon and love him: "Oulman, my husband, who is forever before my eyes, hinders me from seeing you or any other person."
While the husband of Mrs. Dissosway, of Staten island, was in the hands of the British, her brother Nathaniel Randolph, a Captain in the American army, repeatedly and greatly annoyed the tories; and they were anxious to be freed from his incursions. Accordingly, one of their colonels promised Mrs. Dissosway to procure her husband's release, if she would prevail upon her brother to leave the army. She scornfully replied: "And if I could act so dastardly a part, think you that General Washington has but one Captain Randolph in his army?"
When, by permission of the British authorities, the wife of Daniel Hall was once going to John's island, near Charleston, to see her mother, one of the king's officers stopped her and ordered her to surrender the key of her trunk. On her asking him what he wished to look for, he replied, "For treason, madam." "Then," said she, "you may be saved the trouble of search, for you may find enough of it at my tongue's end."[94]
When a party of Revolutionary patriots left Pleasant River settlement, in Maine, on an expedition, one of the number forgot his powder horn, and his wife, knowing he would greatly need it, ran twenty miles through the woods before she overtook him.
When the village of Buffalo was burnt during the last war, only one dwelling-house was suffered to stand. Its owner, Mrs. St. John, was a woman of wonderful courage and self-possession; and when the Indians came to fire it, and destroy its inmates, she ordered them away in such a dignified, resolute and commanding, yet conciliatory, manner, that they seemed to be awed in her presence, and were kept at bay until some British officers rode up and ordered them to desist from the work of destruction. Saved by her presence of mind and heroic bravery, she who saw her neighbors butchered at their doors and the young village laid in ashes, lived to see a new village spring up, phoenix-like, and expand into a city of thirty-five thousand inhabitants.
Mrs. Beckham, who resided in the neighborhood of Pacolet river, South Carolina, was a true friend of freedom, and a great sufferer on that account. Tarleton, after sharing in her hospitality, pillaged her house, and then ordered its destruction. Her eloquent remonstrance, however, caused him to recall the order. Concealing a guinea in her braided hair, she once went eighty miles to Granby, purchased a bag of salt, and safely returned with it on the saddle under her.[95]
The house of Captain Charles Sims, who resided on Tyger river, South Carolina, was often plundered by tories; and on one of these occasions, when his wife was alone and all the robbers had departed but one, she ordered him away, and he disobeying, she broke his arm with a stick, and drove him from the house.
Several years ago, a family, residing on the Colorado, in Texas, were attacked by a party of Camanche Indians, who first fell upon two workmen in the fields and slew them. Seeing one of them fall, the proprietor of the establishment, who was standing near his house, caught two guns and ran towards the field. A daughter hastily put on her brother's hat and surtout, and followed her father. She soon overtook him, and persuaded him to return to the house. She bravely assisted in guarding it until the Indians, tired of the assault, departed.
In the year 1777, when General Burgoyne entered the valley of the Hudson, the wife of General Schuyler hastened to Saratoga, her husband's country seat, to secure her furniture. "Her carriage," writes the biographer of Brant, "was attended by only a single armed man on horseback. When within two miles of her house, she encountered a crowd of panic-stricken people, who recited to her the tragic fate of Miss M'Crea,[96] and, representing to her the danger of proceeding farther in the face of the enemy, urged her to return. She had yet to pass through a dense forest within which even then some of the savage troops might be lurking for prey. But to these prudential counsels she would not listen. 'The General's wife,' said she, 'must not be afraid!' and, pushing forward, she accomplished her purpose."
While Thomas Crittenden, the first Governor of Vermont, was discharging the functions of an executive, he was waited upon one day, in an official capacity, by several gentlemen from Albany. The visitors were of the higher class, and accompanied by their aristocratic wives. At noon the hostess summoned the workmen from the fields, and seated them at the table with her fashionable visitors. When the females had retired from the dinner table to an apartment by themselves, one of the visitors said to the lady of the house, "You do not usually have your hired laborers sit down at the first table do you?" "Why yes, madam," Mrs. Crittenden replied, "we have thus far done so, but are now thinking of making a different arrangement. The Governor and myself have been talking the matter over a little, lately, and come to the conclusion that the men, who do nearly all the hard work, ought to have the first table,—and that he and I, who do so little, should be content with the second. But, in compliment to you, I thought I would have you sit down with them, to-day, at the first table."[97]
At the Fair held in Castle Garden, in the autumn of 1850, was exhibited a large Gothic arm-chair, backed and cushioned with beautifully wrought needle work in worsted. The needle work was from the hands of Mrs. Millard Fillmore. It was setting a noble example for the wife of a President to present her handiwork at an industrial exhibition; and, if the decision of the three Roman banqueters in regard to their wives, was correct—they preferring the one who was found with her maidens preparing loom-work,—Mrs. Fillmore must be ranked among the best of wives.
During the last war, Major Kennedy of South Carolina, wished to raise recruits for his troop of horse; and accordingly went to Mrs. Jane White, who had several hardy sons, and made known his wants. She was a true patriot, like her husband, who was an active "liberty man" in the war of '76: hence she was ready and anxious to further the Major's plans. Her sons being at work in the field, excepting the youngest, she called the lad, and ordered him, in her broad Scotch-Irish dialect, to "rin awa' ta the fiel' an' tell his brithers ta cum in an' gang an' fight for their counthry, like their father afore them."[98]
Among the fine sentiments quaintly uttered by the old dramatic poet, Webster, are these:
The chiefest action of a man of spirit
Is, never to be out of action; we should think
The soul was never to be put into the body,
Which has so many rare and curious pieces
Of mathematical motion, to stand still.
Virtue is ever sowing of her seeds.
One of the models in activity and virtue, and one who doubtless secured thereby the prize of healthy and extreme old age, was Mrs. Lydia Gustin, a native of Lyme, Connecticut. She had five children, all of whom were at home to celebrate the hundredth anniversary of her birth day. She died in New Hampshire, on the twentieth of July, 1847, in the hundred and second year of her age. A part of the labor performed during her hundredth year, was the knitting of twenty-four pairs of stockings.
Mrs. Elizabeth Ferguson, who resided near Philadelphia, was one of the number who assisted the American prisoners taken at the battle of Germantown. She spun linen and sent it into the city, with orders that it be made into shirts. She was noted for humanity and benevolence. Learning, one time, while visiting her friends in Philadelphia, that a reduced merchant had been imprisoned for debt, and was suffering from destitution, she sent him a bed and other articles of comfort, and, though far from wealthy, put twenty dollars in money into his hands. She refused to give him her name, but was at length identified by a description of her person.
At the battle of the Cowpens, Colonel Washington wounded Colonel Tarleton; and when the latter afterwards, in conversation with Mrs. Wiley Jones, observed to her: "You appear to think very highly of Colonel Washington; and yet I have been told that he is so ignorant a fellow that he can hardly write his own name;" she replied, "It may be the case, but no man better than yourself, Colonel, can testify that he knows how to make his mark."
PHILANTHROPY OF AMERICAN WOMEN:
MISS DIX.
To the blind, the deaf, the lame,
To the ignorant and vile, Stranger, captive, slave he came,
With a welcome and a smile. Help to all he did dispense,
Gold, instruction, raiment, food; Like the gifts of Providence,
To the evil and the good.
Montgomery.
It requires the enlightening and expanding influence of Christianity to show the full extent of fraternal obligation, and to make one feel the wants of his brother's threefold nature. We must, therefore, look for large hearts, whose antennæ stretch through the domain of man's mental and moral, as well as his physical necessities, among a Christian people: there such hearts abound, and the strongest are among the female sex. Nor is this strange: the feelings of woman are more delicate, her constitution is less hardy, than man's. Physically more frail, she feels more sensibly the need of a helper and protector; and, being the greater sufferer, she thinks more of the sufferings of others, and consequently more fully develops the sisterly and sympathetic feelings of her nature.
It is not, therefore, surprising, that in all the humanitary movements of the age, American women are interested; but it is surprising to see with what masculine energy, heroic courage and sublime zeal they often prosecute their philanthropic labors. They lead in the distribution of the poor fund; are untiring in their efforts to sustain Sabbath schools in by-places; form and nobly sustain temperance organizations among themselves; establish and conduct infant schools on their own responsibility; manage orphan asylums; pray, and plead, and labor for the comfort of the insane, and for the education of the deaf, dumb and blind; and, with the religious tract in one hand and the Bible in the other, plunge into the darkest dens of vice, and, nerved by divine power, sow the good seed of truth in the most corrupt soil, with courage that seems to palsy the giant arm of Infamy.
Heroines in the philanthropic movements which so beautify the present age, are found in most of the villages and in every city in the land. Isabella Graham, Sarah Hoffman, Margaret Prior, and others whose names are recorded in this work, are representatives of a class whose number is annually increasing and whose philanthropic exertions are manifest wherever human suffering abounds or the current of moral turpitude is strong and appalling. With the delicacy and fragility inherent in their sex, they possess the bravery and perseverance of the ambitious leader in the military campaign, and shrink from no task, however formidable or disheartening.
They visit the abode of sickness, and the pillow is softened and the pain allayed; they enter the hut of penury, and the cry for bread is hushed, they pour the tide of united and sanctified effort through the Augean stables of iniquity, and the cleansing process is astonishing. Such is the work of philanthropic women; they are the "salt" of the community.
A lady is now living in the city of Buffalo, whose benevolent exertions, in her restricted sphere, would compare favorably with those of the celebrated Quakeress whose mission at Newgate justified, for once, at least, the use of angel as an adjective qualifying woman. The person to whom we refer—who would blush to see her name in print—is foremost in all the humane and charitable operations of the day, and has, for years, been in the habit of visiting the jail regularly and usually alone on the Sabbath, to instruct its inmates from the word of God and to lecture before them on all that pertains to human duty. She is married, and has a family—her children being adopted orphans,—hence her opportunities for public usefulness are measurably limited: but her life-long actions seem to say,
"Give me leave To speak my mind, and I will through and through
Cleanse the foul body of the infected world,
If they will patiently receive my medicine."
Aside from our female missionaries, whose heroism is elsewhere partially illustrated in this work, the finest example of a living American philanthropist is Miss D. L. Dix, of Massachusetts. Her extreme modesty, learned through her New England friends, with whom we have corresponded, withholds all facts touching her early and private history, and leaves us a paucity of materials out of which to frame even an outline of her public career.
We first hear of her as a teacher in the city of Boston, in which vocation she was faithful and honored. At the same time, she was connected, as instructor, with a Sabbath school—belonging we believe, to Dr. Channing's society—and while searching in by-places for poor children to enlarge her class, she necessarily came in contact with many destitute persons, and saw much suffering. Ere long she became interested more especially in the condition and wants of poor seamen, and endeavored to enlist the sympathies of others in their behalf. As opportunities presented themselves, she visited the hospital and other benevolent institutions in and near Boston, together with the State Prison. Anon we find her in the possession of a small legacy left by her deceased grand-mother; and, having resigned the office of teacher, she is traveling through the state. Having visited all the counties and most if not all the towns in Massachusetts, hunting up the insane and acquainting herself with their condition, visiting the inmates of the poor-houses and jails, and learning the state of things among all the unfortunate and suffering, she went to the Legislature, made a report, and petitioned for reforms where she thought they were needed.
Having thoroughly canvassed one state, feeling her benevolent heart expand, she entered another, and went through the same routine of labors—visiting, reporting, pleading for reforms. She has traveled through all the states but three or four, and has extended her humane mission to Canada.
She overlooks no almshouse; never fails of seeing and learning the history of an insane person; goes through every jail and prison; and usually, if not invariably, has a private interview with each inmate, imparting such counsel as wisdom and Christian sympathy dictate. She has lately petitioned Congress—as yet unsuccessfully—for a large appropriation of the public lands for the benefit of the insane.
Her petitions are usually presented in a very quiet and modest manner. In her travels, she acquaints herself with the leading minds, and among them the state and national legislators; and when the law-making bodies are in session, she obtains an interview with members in the retirement of the parlor or the small social gathering; communicates the facts she has collected; and secures their coöperation in her plans and their aid in effecting her purposes.
She who began the work of reform as a teacher in a Sabbath school, has advanced, step by step, until her capacious heart has embraced the Union, throughout which the benign influence of her philanthropic labors is sensibly felt. Some one has truthfully remarked that "the blessings of thousands, ready to perish, have come down upon her head," and that the institutions which she has caused to be erected or modified in the several states "are monuments more honorable, if not more enduring than the pyramids."
While Miss Dix has brought about important reforms, she has accomplished her labors by great hardship and the most rigid economy. She had not a princely fortune, like Mrs. Fry, to expend in benevolent causes; she could not ride from place to place in her own private and splendid carriage, saying to this servant, do this, and to another, do that; she has been obliged to travel by public, haphazard conveyances—often in most uncomfortable vehicles in the most uncomfortable weather. A part of her early labors in the state of New York were performed in the winter, and when in the north-eastern and coldest part, she was under the necessity, on one occasion, of traveling all night in the severest part of the season in an open carriage. To show her economy, which has been hinted at, it is necessary merely to say that she purchases the materials for most of her garments in the places which she visits, and makes them up with her own hands, while traveling on steamboats, waiting for stages at public houses, and such odd intervals of leisure.[99]
The character of Miss Dix is both pleasant and profitable to contemplate. Every thing connected with her public career is noble and worthy to be imitated. Would that the world were full of such characters: they are needed. Although she has done a great work, much is yet to do. Our country is wide, and enlarging almost every year; the field of benevolence is white to harvest, and where are the reapers, who, like Miss Dix, will make their "lives sublime?"
THE END.
