When the news was received in Illinois, a few years ago, that, owing to a deficiency of funds, the Ceylon missionaries had been obliged to dismiss thousands of pupils from their schools, and that twenty-five dollars would revive any one of them, a minister of that state laid the subject before his small and poor church, and between pastor and people twenty-five dollars were promptly raised. Going home and communicating the intelligence to his wife, the minister learned that she had been weighing the subject, and was anxious, in some way, to raise enough herself alone to resuscitate a school. Her husband told her she could do it by dispensing with a tomb stone which had been ordered from New York for a child lately deceased, and which would cost twenty-five dollars. She promptly consented to have the order countermanded, saying that "living children demanded her money more than the one that was dead." By suffering the love of Christ to triumph over maternal feeling, she re-opened a mission school, and the day of judgment will reveal the great amount of good thereby accomplished.
A TENNESSEE HEROINE.
It is held That valor is the chiefest virtue;
Most dignifies the haver: if it be,
The man I speak of cannot in the world
Be singly counterpoised.
Shakspeare.
Milton A. Haynes, Esq., of Tennessee, furnished for Mrs. Ellet's Women of the Revolution a lengthy and very interesting sketch of Sarah Buchanan, of East Tennessee. The following anecdotes, extracted therefrom, exhibit the heroism of her character:
On one occasion, Sarah and a kinswoman named Susan Everett were returning home from a visit a mile or two distant, careless of danger, or not thinking of its presence. It was late in the evening, and they were riding along a path through the open woods, Miss Everett in advance. Suddenly she stopped her horse, exclaiming, "Look, Sally, yonder are the red skins!" Not more than a hundred yards ahead was a party of Indians armed with rifles, directly in their path. There was no time for counsel, and retreat was impossible, as the Indians might easily intercept them before they could gain a fort in their rear. To reach their own block-house, four or five hundred yards distant, was their only hope of safety. Quick as thought, Sarah whispered to her companion to follow and do as she did, and then instantly assuming the position of a man on horseback, in which she was imitated by her relative, she urged her horse into a headlong gallop. Waving their bonnets in the air, and yelling like madmen, they came furiously down upon the savages, who had not seen them, crying out as they came—"Clear the track, you —— red skins!" The part was so well acted, that the Indians took them for the head of a body of troopers, who were making a deadly charge upon them, and dodging out of the path, fled for very life—and so did Sally and Susan! Before the savages had recovered from their fright, the two girls were safe within the gates of the fort, trembling like frightened fawns at the narrow escape which they had made.
On another occasion, when her husband and all the men of the fort were absent, two celebrated horse-thieves, who had taken refuge with the Indians, came and demanded of Mrs. Buchanan two of the Major's fine horses. Knowing their lawless character, she pretended acquiescence, and went with them to the stable, but on arriving at the door she suddenly drew a large hunting knife from under her apron, and assuming an attitude of defiance, declared that if either of them dared to enter the stable, she would instantly cut him down. Struck by her intrepid bearing, they fell back, and although they tried to overcome her resolution by threats and bravado, she maintained her ground, and the marauders were compelled to retire without the horses.
On Sunday night,[62] about the hour of midnight, while the moon was shining brilliantly, the Indian army under Watts and the Shawnee, advancing in silence, surrounded Buchanan's station. In order to effect an entrance into the fort by a coup de main, they sent runners to frighten and drive in the horses and cattle. This was done, and the animals came dashing furiously towards the fort; but the garrison, wrapped in slumber, heeded them not. The watchman, John McCrory, at this instant discovering the savages advancing within fifty yards of the gates, fired upon them. In an instant the mingled yells of the savage columns, the crack of their rifles, and the clatter of their hatchets, as they attempted to cut down the gate, told the little squad of nineteen men and seven women that the fearful war-cloud, which had been rising so long, was about to burst upon their devoted heads!
Aroused suddenly from deep slumber by the terrible war-whoop, every man and woman felt the horror of their situation. The first impulse with some was to surrender, and it is related of one woman that she instantly gathered her five children and attempted to go with them to the gate to yield themselves to the Indians. Mrs. Buchanan seized her by the shoulder, and asked her where she was going.