{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_51864/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_51864","id":"gutenberg_51864","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51864","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Adventure","Category: History - American","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Frontier and pioneer life -- United States -- Anecdotes","United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Anecdotes"],"text":"TALES,\n TRADITIONS AND ROMANCE\n OF\n BORDER\n AND\n REVOLUTIONARY TIMES.\n\n\n BY EDWARD S. ELLIS.\n\n NEW YORK:\n BEADLE AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS,\n 118 WILLIAM STREET.\n\n\n\n\n Entered according to Act of Congress, in the Year 1864,\n by BEADLE AND COMPANY, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of\n the United\n States for the Southern District of New York.\n\n\n\n\n PREFACE.\n\n\nIn this volume we offer the reader a combination of two of the most\nfascinating qualities which a book can possess. It is almost strictly\nhistorical, and yet as marvelous as the most romantic fiction. The\nsketches and incidents here gathered are all authenticated; yet many of\nthem, in their wonderful interest and pathos, exceed the bounds of\nfancy. They belong to two classes: those which are connected with the\nRevolution, and those which chronicle the peculiar events of our\nFrontier History. While they will absorb the attention of the most\nintelligent reader, they are charmingly adapted to attract young people,\nwho will be both instructed and delighted. Boys will find examples\nworthy of emulation, and will learn to appreciate those traits of\ncharacter which made the glory and the progress of our young republic;\nwhile girls may gain dignity of mind by contemplating the devotion,\ncourage and endurance of the women of those days.\n\nAn insight will be afforded into the customs of the Indians, and into\nthe manner of life of the early settlers, whose dangers and\ndifficulties, privations and calamities, are almost incredible. Many of\nthe most thrilling events in our national history are herein related,\nalong with the fearless adventures of our brave pioneers, and the perils\nand catastrophes which befell the families of those whose protectors\nwere absent on the field of battle, or whose cabins failed to find\nsufficient defense in the rifles of their owners.\n\nThe reader will linger over these pages, thrilled by the consciousness\nthat the scenes so vividly brought before him are real\u2014a living, abiding\npart of our existence as a people. The \"storied Rhine\" and \"classic\nItaly\" are laid and overlaid thickly with traditions which give a vague\ninterest to soil, ruin, mountain and sky. We, also, have our\ntraditions\u2014different in kind, but of wild and marvelous interest\u2014and the\nday shall come when the banks of the fair Ohio, the blue Muskingum, the\npicturesque Allegany, the noble Mississippi, shall be trodden by\nreverent feet, while the thoughts of the traveler speed back to the days\nof the lurking red-man and the bold ranger. It is no mean duty of the\nchronicler to treasure up the threads of a thousand little facts, and\nweave them into a web which shall perpetuate them for the future.\n\nThe publishers believe that this volume will not only be a favorite in\nthe hands of men, young and old, but will have its appropriate place by\nthe fireside.\n\n\n\n\n CONTENTS.\n\n\n Abduction of General Wadsworth, 236\n Anecdotes of an early settler of Kentucky, 61\n Anecdotes of juvenile heroism, 202\n Anecdotes of Washington, 111\n A remarkable hunting excursion, 133\n Big Joe Logston's struggle with an Indian, 69\n Boquet's expedition into Indian territory, 277\n Brady's leap, 363\n Brant and the boy, 32\n Brave deeds of Logan, 245\n British atrocities during the Revolution, 340\n Captain Hubbell's adventure on the Ohio, 123\n Captain John Sevier, 313\n Captivity of Jonathan Alder, 270\n Close quarters with a rattlesnake, 141\n Colonel Horry, of Marion's brigade, 143\n Davy Crockett's adventure with a cougar, 56\n Deborah Sampson, the maiden warrior, 82\n Dick Moxon's fight with the deer, 137\n Downing's remarkable escape from an Indian, 120\n Elerson's twenty-five mile race, 160\n Ethan Allen, a prisoner of war, 229\n Execution of Colonel Isaac Hayne, 335\n Female characters of the Revolution, 175\n General Dale's adventure, 310\n Harrison's invasion of Canada and death of Tecumseh, 219\n Heroic death of Cornstalk, sachem of the Shawnees, 252\n Horrible atrocities by savages, 264\n Horrible cruelties by British troops, 297\n Horsewhipping a tyrant, 223\n Interesting anecdotes of Mrs. Fisher's courage, 352\n John Minter's bear fight, 53\n Joseph Bettys' bloody career, 291\n Major Robert Rogers' adventure, 303\n Marvelous escape of Weatherford, 309\n Miss Sherrill's flight to the fort, 314\n Molly Pitcher at Monmouth, 172\n Moody, the refugee, 286\n Morgan's prayer, 100\n Mrs. Austin and the bear, 48\n Mrs. Slocumb at Moore's Creek, 347\n Murphy saving the fort, 18\n Nathan Hale's arrest and execution, 341\n Proctor's massacre at River Basin, 212\n Sargeant Jasper's adventures in the British camp, 153\n Sargeant Jasper and the young Creole girl, 88\n Simon Girty's attack on Bryant Station, 317\n Simon Kenton and his Indian torture-ride, 5\n Spirited adventures of a young married couple, 350\n Tecumseh saving the prisoners, 309\n The Baroness de Reidesel, 183\n The chieftain's appeal, 325\n The Grand Tower massacre, 76\n The implacable governor, 332\n The Johnson boys killing their captors, 116\n The leap for life, 300\n The little sentinel, 197\n The mother's trial, 242\n The women defending the wagon, 261\n Thrilling anecdotes of women of the Revolution, 93\n William Kennan's flight from thirty Indians, 165\n\n\n\n\n ILLUSTRATIONS.\n\n\n SIMON KENTON'S TORTURE-RIDE, 2\n MURPHY SAVING THE FORT, 25\n BRANT AND YOUNG M'KOWN, 33\n MRS. AUSTIN AND THE BEAR, 49\n JOE LOGSTON'S ENCOUNTER WITH AN INDIAN, 66\n DEBORAH, THE MAIDEN WARRIOR, 89\n GENERAL MORGAN'S PRAYER, 105\n JOHNSON BOYS KILLING THEIR CAPTORS, 121\n SWEATLAND'S HUNTING ADVENTURE, 130\n COLONEL HORRY'S EXPLOITS, 145\n ELERSON'S TWENTY-FIVE MILE RACE, 161\n MOLLY PITCHER AT MONMOUTH, 177\n THE LITTLE SENTINEL, 194\n TECUMSEH SAVING THE PRISONERS, 217\n HORSEWHIPPING A TYRANT, 233\n THE MOTHER'S TRIAL, 249\n WOMEN DEFENDING THE WAGON, 258\n CAPTIVITY OF JONATHAN ALDER, 273\n MOODY, THE REFUGEE, 289\n THE LEAP FOR LIFE, 305\n THE CHIEFTAIN'S APPEAL, 322\n THE IMPLACABLE GOVERNOR, 337\n MRS. SLOCUMB AT MOORE'S CREEK, 353\n BRADY'S LEAP, 361\n\n[Illustration:\n\n Simon Kenton's Torture-Ride\u2014_Page_ 9.\n]\n\n\n\n\n TALES,\n\n TRADITIONS AND ROMANCE\n\n OF\n\n BORDER AND REVOLUTIONARY TIMES.\n\n SIMON KENTON.\n MURPHY SAVING THE FORT.\n BRANT AND THE BOY.\n MRS. AUSTIN AND THE BEAR.\n\n BEADLE AND COMPANY,\n NEW YORK: 118 WILLIAM STREET.\n LONDON: 44 PATERNOSTER ROW.\n\n\n\n\n Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by\n BEADLE AND COMPANY,\n In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for\n the Southern District of New York.\n\n\n\n\n SIMON KENTON,\n AND HIS\n INDIAN TORTURE-RIDE.\n\n\nForemost among the wild and terrific scenes which arise before our\nstartled eyes when we turn the pages of border warfare, is the ride of\nSimon Kenton\u2014not that the cruelty of its devisers was so atrocious, nor\nthe final results so dreadful, as in many other instances; but the\nnovelty, the unique savageness of the affair, strikes upon the\nimagination, as if it were one of those thrilling stories related of\nages and people which never were, instead of an event that actually\noccurred to one of our own countrymen in one of our own territories.\n\nIn the early light of morning breaking through the trees which surround\nthem, a group of Indians are preparing to resume their march, after a\nnight of repose. They have with them a solitary prisoner. Corraled about\nthem are numbers of horses, the recovery of which has been the object of\nthe expedition. Before these are released and the day's march resumed,\nthe prisoner must be disposed of. While his captors are deciding this\nimportant matter, we will discover who he is and what has brought him\ninto his present state.\n\nAbout the first of September, 1778, Simon Kenton\u2014the friend and younger\ncoadjutor of Boone, who had been with the latter for some time at\nBoonesborough Station, employed in protecting the surrounding country,\nand engaging in occasional skirmishes with the Indians\u2014becoming tired of\na temporary inactivity which his habits of life rendered insupportable,\ndetermined to have another adventure with the Indians. For this purpose\nhe associated with Alex. Montgomery and George Clark, to go on an\nexpedition for stealing horses from the Shawnees.\n\nThe three brave scouts reached old Chilicothe without meeting with any\nthing exciting. There they fell in with a drove of Indian horses,\nfeeding on the rich prairie, and securing seven of the drove, started on\ntheir return. Reaching the Ohio, they found the river lashed into fury\nby a hurricane, and the horses refused to cross. Here was an\nunlooked-for dilemma. It was evening; they felt sure of being pursued;\nno time was to be lost. As the only resource, they rode back to the\nhills, hobbled the animals, and then retraced their steps to see if they\nwere followed. Finding as yet no signs of pursuit, they took what rest\ntheir anxiety would allow them. The next morning, the wind having\nsubsided, they sought their horses and again attempted to cross the\nriver, but with the same result; the horses, from fright, refused to\ntake to the water, and they were driven to the alternative of parting\nwith them. Selecting each one of the best, they turned the others loose,\nand started for the Falls of the Ohio, (now just below Louisville); but\ndisliking thus to abandon the fruits of their expedition, they unwisely\nreturned again, to attempt to retake and lead the others. This was by no\nmeans an easy task, and while engaged in the endeavor, they were\nsurprised by a party of mounted savages, who had followed their trail\nwith vengeful pertinacity. The whites were separated; and Kenton,\nhearing a _whoop_ in the direction of his comrades, dismounted, creeping\ncautiously in the direction of the sound, to discover, if possible, the\nforce of the enemy. Dragging himself forward on his hands and knees, he\ncame suddenly upon several Indians, who did not discover him at the\nmoment. Being surrounded, and thinking the boldest game the best, he\ntook aim at the foremost and pulled trigger, but his gun missed fire.\nThis, of course, discovered his position, and he was instantly pursued.\nTaking advantage of some fallen timber, he endeavored to elude his\npursuers, by dodging them, and hiding in the underbrush, where their\nhorses could not follow; but they were too cunning, or rather too many\nfor him. Dividing their forces and riding along either side the timber,\nthey \"beat it up,\" until, as he was emerging at the further end, he was\nconfronted by one of the savages, who, the moment he discovered his\nwhite foe, threw himself from his horse and rushed upon Kenton with his\ntomahawk. Kenton drew back his arm to defend himself with the butt end\nof his gun; but as he was about to strike, another stalwart savage, whom\nhe had not observed, seized him in his powerful grasp, preventing the\ndescending blow. He was now a prisoner, compelled to yield, with such\ngrace as he could, to superior numbers. While they were binding him, his\ncompanion, Montgomery, made his appearance, firing at one of the\nsavages, but missing his mark. He was immediately pursued; in a few\nmoments one of the pursuers returned, shaking the bloody scalp of his\nfriend in Kenton's face. Clark succeeded in making his escape, and\ncrossing the river, arrived in safety at Logan's Station.\n\nThat night the Indians encamped on the banks of the river; in the\nmorning they prepared to return with their unfortunate prisoner, who had\npassed an uneasy night, bound to the ground, and not knowing precisely\nwhat vengeance his enemies might be pleased to visit upon him. Some of\nthem knew him well, and he realized that there were long scores to be\nwiped off against him. However, the red-man had a keen appreciation of\nbravery, and he did not anticipate any severer fate upon that account.\nSome little time elapsed before they succeeded in catching all their\nhorses. The day had well advanced before they were ready to march, and\nthe annoyance consequent upon this delay so exasperated them, that they\ndetermined to make their captive pay the full penalty of the trouble he\nhad caused them. They therefore selected the wildest and most restive\nhorse among their number, and proceeded to bind Kenton upon his back.\nTheir mode of proceeding was as follows: a rope was first passed round\nthe under jaw of the horse, either end of which was held by an Indian;\nyet even with this advantage, it required the assistance of others to\ncontrol the vicious beast, which was determined not to receive its\nburden. Kenton was first seated upon the horse with his face toward the\ntail, and his feet tied together under the animal. Another rope confined\nhis arms, drawing the prisoner down upon his back. A third, secured\nabout his neck, was fastened to the horse's neck, thence extending\nlongitudinally down his person to the animal's tail, where it was\nsecured, and answered well for a crupper. In this way he was fastened to\nthe wild and frantic steed, beyond the possibility of escape. To make\nthe matter sure against contingencies, the now delighted savages passed\nanother rope about his thighs, securing it to the one which served as a\ngirth. They then fastened a pair of moccasins upon his hands to prevent\nhis defending his face. During the time they were thus preparing him for\nhis Mazeppa-like ride, they taunted him by asking if he wanted to steal\nany more horses. They danced around him, yelped and screamed, and, in\nevery possible manner, expressed their infernal delight at the\nanticipated sufferings of their victim. The heart of Simon Kenton seldom\nquailed before any danger; but it must have been supernaturally\nstrengthened not to have sickened during those moments of preparation\nand anticipation. To be bound to unspoken torture, which could end, at\nthe last, only in death\u2014death long deferred, perhaps into hours and\ndays, whose every minute and second would be sharp with anguish\u2014to be so\nhelpless to resist the evils which were sure to come, with the close\nrope strangling the breath in his throat whenever he attempted to raise\nhis head to see the cruelties which he _felt_\u2014to add all the mental\nmiseries of suspense to the horrible realities before him\u2014this was\nenough surely to shake even the sturdy spirit of the defiant pioneer.\nFor a moment he was inclined to beg of his tormentors to tomahawk him\nthen and there; but he knew that such an appeal would gratify their\nmalice while it would produce no other effect; and he closed his lips\ntightly, resolved that they should enjoy no sign of fear or dismay to\nenhance their inhuman delight. One glance at the blue sky smiling down\nbetween the lightly-waving branches of the trees\u2014one scornful look into\nthe demon-faces about him, and, for an instant, his eyes closed; he felt\nlike one falling from a precipice into terrific depths yawning to\nreceive him.\n\nWith stripes and demoniac yells they at length turned loose the almost\nsavage horse, which was goaded to desperation by the tumult and the\nblows. The infuriated beast at once bounded away on its aimless, erratic\ncourse, anxious only to rid itself of its strange burden.\n\n \"'Twas scarcely yet the break of day,\n And on he foamed\u2014away!\u2014away!\u2014\n The last of human sounds which rose,\n As he was darted from his foes,\n Was the wild shout of savage laughter\n Which on the wind came roaring after.\"\n\nFrantic with fright, the noble animal went careering through the woods,\nrearing and plunging in his madness, inflicting upon his tortured rider\ncountless wounds and blows as he endeavored to dash him against the\ntrees, or rushed through the tangled brush, lacerating the flesh of both\nwith innumerable thorns and briers. In one of the mad dashes which the\nhorse gave through the unpitying forest, Kenton's arm came with such\nforce against a tree that it was broken\u2014he knew it by its becoming so\nlimp and helpless, as well as from the knife-like pain which darted from\nit. The wretched man could only hope that the horse would some time\ntire; that, wearied out with its useless efforts to free itself from its\nburden, it would subside into some quiet, which might give a moment's\nease to his aching and mangled limbs; but he hoped in vain!\n\n \"Each motion which he made to free\n His swollen limbs from their agony,\n Increased its fury and affright;\n He tried his voice\u2014'twas faint and low,\n But yet it swerved, as from a blow;\n And, starting at each accent, sprang\n As from a sudden trumpet's clang.\n Meanwhile the cords were wet with gore,\n Which, oozing from his wounds, ran o'er;\n And on his tongue the thirst became\n A something fiercer far than flame.\"\n\nOh, that horrible _thirst_ which takes possession of the person\nsuffering exquisite pain, until the torture seems to exceed that of the\nanguish which causes it. None but those who have experienced this\nextremity of mortal suffering can picture it; none but those who have\nsuffered the horrible pangs of thirst can sympathize with the\nunutterable pain which Simon Kenton endured for the next few hours. Yes,\nfor hours! The harassed steed, at length, with wasted strength and\ntrembling limbs, returned to the point from which he had started, with\nhis now almost inanimate rider, who must have sunk into insensibility\nlong before, had not the fever of his pain kept him from that blessed\nrelief. The hunter hoped that now he would either be killed outright, or\nrelieved of his present position; but such was not the intention of the\nred devils who had him in their power.\n\nWorn out with fatigue, and satisfied of his inability to rid himself of\nhis unwelcome burden, the exhausted horse took his place in the\ncavalcade, which had already started for its home. The only mercy they\nvouchsafed the prisoner was to give him, twice or thrice, some water.\nHis sufferings had only commenced\u2014death, in its worst form, would have\nbeen preferred to the ordeal through which he had yet to pass. To feel\ncertain of death\u2014to count the lingering hours as they pass\u2014to know that\neach is but a step toward a certain doom\u2014to feel that doom impending day\nby day, and yet to see it postponed through miserable stretches of\nsuffering\u2014to endure continually all the anguish of which the human frame\nis capable, and all this time to know that hope has fled beyond\nrecall\u2014that all this protracted agony must end in inevitable death, is\ntoo terrible to contemplate.\n\nAll this Simon Kenton bore for three days and nights. It seems\nincredible that life should have held out so long; but his previous\ntraining in the schools of endurance seemed only to have fitted him now\nto hold out through what no other man could have borne. Through three\nnights he lay in his cradle of anguish; through three days he was racked\nby the motion of the animal which bore him; and when the Indians reached\ntheir village, he was still alive.\n\nIt had been the intention of the savages to procure his death by means\nof the wanton torture they had instituted; but when he reached his\ndestination alive, owing to some custom or superstition of their own,\nthey delivered him over to the care of their squaws. These took him from\nthe rack, bathed his disfigured body, set his broken arm, bandaged his\nwounds, made soothing and healing washes from the herbs of the forest,\nnourished him with drinks and food, and gradually restored him to\nhealth. Not only was his life saved, but his iron constitution remained\nunbroken by the fearful trial through which it had passed. As soon as\nhis renewed strength warranted the attempt, he set about planning the\nmode of his escape, which he successfully accomplished, returning to the\nfriends who had long since given him up for lost, to relate to their\nalmost incredulous hearts the story of his sufferings.\n\nThis remarkable episode is but one of countless adventures in which\nSimon Kenton was engaged. Our readers may hear from him again in scenes\nequally thrilling. He was, without doubt, one of the bravest and most\ninteresting of the western pioneers; he was excelled by none, and\nscarcely equaled by his precursor, Daniel Boone. His biography, as far\nas it has been preserved, will be read with interest by all; his name\nwill never be forgotten in the valley of the great West. He was the\ncoadjutor of Boone throughout the protracted struggle for the occupancy\nof the rich forests and prairies on either side of the Ohio. The almost\nincessant exposure and life of self-denial which these resolute\nadventurers endured can scarcely be appreciated by us of this generation\nwho enjoy in peace the fruits of their sufferings.\n\nWhile the United States were British Colonies, and Kentucky and Ohio\nstill were primeval in their solitudes, filled with Indians, and wholly\ndestitute of white inhabitants, these two heroic men, Boone and Kenton,\nas if moved by the finger of Providence, left the shades of\ncivilization, entire strangers to each other, and ventured into the\nmidst of a boundless wilderness, neither having any knowledge of the\npurpose or movement of the other. Boone led the way from North Carolina,\ncrossed the mountains, and entered the valley of Kentucky in 1769;\nKenton followed from Virginia, in 1773. The former emigrated from\nchoice, to gratify his natural taste, after full deliberation, and after\nhaving calculated the consequences. Not so with Kenton; he fled to the\nwilderness to escape the penalty of a supposed crime. He had,\nunfortunately, become involved in a quarrel with a young man of his\nneighborhood, with whom he had lived in habits of great intimacy and\nfriendship, and, as he supposed, had killed him in a personal conflict.\nTo avoid the consequences of that imaginary homicide, and to escape, if\npossible, from the distress of his own feelings, he left home and\nfriends, without waiting to ascertain the result. Unaccompanied by any\nhuman being, he crossed the mountains and descended into the valley of\nthe Big Kanawha, under the assumed name of Simon Butler. He retained\nthat name several years, until he received information that the friend\nwhom he supposed had fallen under his hand, had recovered from the blow,\nand was alive and in health. He then resumed his proper name, and\ndisclosed the reason which had led him to assume that of Butler; but a\nlove for the wild life to which he had exiled himself had now taken such\nstrong hold of him that he made no effort to return to the ties from\nwhich he had so hastily fled.\n\nIt is a matter of regret that so small a portion of the achievements of\nthis interesting man have been perpetuated. This may be accounted for by\nthe fact that so large a portion of his life was spent in the\nwilderness, either in solitude, or associated with others of the same\nadventurous cast with himself; and it explains the reason why we are not\nonly without a connected record of his life, but have so few of its\nisolated transactions preserved. It is known, however, that, after he\njoined the adventurers in the district of Kentucky, about two years\nbefore the Declaration of American Independence, he engaged in most of\nthe battles and skirmishes between the white inhabitants and the savages\nwhich followed, during 1774 to 1783. He became an enterprising leader in\nmost of the expeditions against the Indian towns north-west of the Ohio.\nThese conflicts, indeed, continued during the long period of twenty\nyears, intervening between their commencement and the decisive victory\nof \"Mad Anthony\" Wayne at the rapids of the Maumee, in August, 1794,\nwhich was followed by the celebrated treaty of Greenville, and peace to\nthe afflicted border. Kenton was always considered one of the boldest\nand most active defenders of the western country, from the commencement\nof its settlement until the close of Indian hostilities. In all their\nbattles and expeditions he took a conspicuous part. He was taken\nprisoner several times and conveyed to the Shawnee towns, but in every\ninstance he made his escape and returned to his friends.\n\nOn one occasion he was captured when on an expedition against the Wabash\n(Miami) villages, and taken to one of the remote Indian towns, where a\ncouncil was held to decide on his fate. Again he was fated to endure one\nof their cruel and peculiar modes of inflicting punishment. He was\npainted black, tied to a stake, and suffered to remain in this painful\nposition for twenty-four hours, anticipating the horrors of a slow and\ncruel death, by starvation or fire. He was next condemned to run the\ngauntlet. The Indians, several hundred in number, of both sexes, and\nevery age and rank, armed with switches, sticks, bludgeons and other\nimplements of assault, were formed in two lines, between which the\nunhappy prisoner was made to pass; being promised that, if he reached\nthe door of the council-house, at the further end of the lines, no\nfurther punishment would be inflicted. He accordingly ran, with all the\nspeed of which his debilitated condition rendered him capable,\ndreadfully beaten by the savages as he passed, and had nearly reached\nthe goal, when he was knocked down by a warrior with a club; and the\ndemoniac set, gathering around the prostrate body, continued to beat him\nuntil life appeared to be nearly extinguished.\n\nIn this wretched condition, naked, lacerated and exhausted, he was\nmarched from town to town, exhibited, tortured, often threatened to be\nburned at the stake, and compelled frequently to run the gauntlet. On\none of these occasions he attempted to make his escape, broke through\nthe ranks of his torturers, and had outstripped those who pursued him,\nwhen he was met by some warriors on horseback, who compelled him to\nsurrender. After running the gauntlet in thirteen towns, he was taken to\nthe Wyandot town of Lower Sandusky, in Ohio, to be burned. Here resided\nthe white miscreant, Simon Girty, who, having just returned from an\nunsuccessful expedition against the frontiers of Pennsylvania, was in a\nparticularly bad humor. Hearing that there was a white prisoner in town,\nthe renegade rushed upon him, struck him, beat him to the ground, and\nwas proceeding to further atrocities, when Kenton had the presence of\nmind to call him by name and claim his protection. They had known each\nother in their youth; Kenton had once saved the life of Girty; and deaf\nas was the latter, habitually, to every dictate of benevolence, he\nadmitted the claim of his former acquaintance. Actuated by one of those\nunaccountable caprices common among savages, he interceded for him,\nrescued him from the stake, and took him to his own house, where, in a\nfew days, the prisoner recovered his strength. Some of the chiefs,\nhowever, became dissatisfied; another council was held, the former\ndecree was reversed, and Kenton was again doomed to the stake.\n\nFrom this extremity he was rescued by the intercession of Drewyer, a\nBritish agent, who, having succeeded in obtaining his release, carried\nhim to Detroit, where he was received by the British commander as a\nprisoner of war. From that place he made his escape, in company with two\nother Americans; and, after a march of thirty days through the\nwilderness, continually exposed to recapture, had the good fortune to\nescape all perils, and to reach the settlements of Kentucky in safety.\n\nHall, from whose sketches of the West we have gathered this account of\nhis running the gauntlet, states that all those horrors were endured\nupon the occasion of his captivity following his Mazeppa-like ride,\nalthough Burnet, in his \"Notes,\" speaks of it as upon another and a\nfuture occasion.\n\nAfter the fall of Kaskaskia, which took place in 1778, and in the\nexpedition against which Kenton took an active part, he was sent with a\nsmall party to Kentucky with dispatches. On their way the rangers fell\nin with a camp of Indians, in whose possession were a number of horses,\nwhich the daring fellows took and sent back to the army, then in great\nneed of the animals.\n\nPursuing their way by Vincennes, they entered that French-Indian town at\nnight, traversed several of the streets, and departed without being\ndiscovered, taking from the inhabitants two horses to each man. When\nthey came to White river, a raft was made on which to cross, while the\nhorses were driven in to swim the river. On the opposite shore a party\nof Indians was encamped, who caught the horses as they ascended the\nbank. Such are the vicissitudes of border incident! The same horses\nwhich had been audaciously taken only the night before from the interior\nof a regularly garrisoned town, were lost by being accidentally driven\nby their captors into a camp of the enemy! Kenton and his party, finding\nthemselves in the utmost danger, returned to the shore from which they\nhad pushed their raft, and concealed themselves until night, when they\ncrossed the river at a different place, reaching Kentucky in safety.\n\nThe expedition against Kaskaskia was one of the earliest made by the\nAmericans beyond the Ohio. This place, as well as the posts upon the\nLakes, was then in possession of the British, with whom we were at war.\nBeing one of the points from which the Indians were supplied with\nammunition, and thus enabled to harass the settlements in Kentucky, its\ncapture was considered so important that the legislature of Virginia\nwere induced to raise a regiment for the purpose. The command was given\nto Colonel George Rogers Clarke, the young military hero, to whom, more\nthan to any other one person, Kentucky owes her successful foundation as\na State. He was, as a military leader, what Kenton was as a scout and\nskirmisher\u2014one of those men who seemed raised up, providentially, to\nmaster great difficulties.\n\nThe story of the campaign by which he took Kaskaskia is one of the most\ninteresting of our border experiences. With two or three hundred men,\nmostly raised in Virginia, he crossed the mountains to the Monongahela,\nand descended by water to the Falls of the Ohio, where he was joined by\nsome volunteers from Kentucky, among whom was Simon Kenton. After a halt\nof a few days to refresh his men, he proceeded down the Ohio to the\nneighborhood of Fort Massac, a point about sixty miles above the mouth\nof that river, where he landed and hid his boats, to prevent their\ndiscovery by the Indians. He was now distant from Kaskaskia about one\nhundred and thirty miles. The intervening country must have been, at\nthat time, almost impassable. His route led through a flat region,\noverflowed by the backwater of the streams, and entirely covered with a\nmost luxuriant vegetation, which must have greatly impeded the march of\nhis troops. Through this dreary region, the intrepid young leader\nmarched on foot, at the head of his gallant band, with his rifle on his\nshoulder and his provisions on his back. After wading through swamps,\ncrossing creeks by such methods as could be hastily adopted, and\nsustaining two days' march after the provisions were exhausted, he\narrived in the night before the village of Kaskaskia. Having halted and\nformed his men, he made them a speech, which contained only the brief\nsentence: \"The town must be taken at all events.\" Accordingly it was\ntaken, and that without striking a blow; for, although fortified, the\nsurprise was so complete that no resistance was attempted. This exploit\nwas followed up by a series of the same character; in all of which\nKenton played his part, being chosen, as we have seen, after this\nexpedition, to be the bearer of important dispatches through a hostile\ncountry. In all emergencies like this, his aid was invaluable.\n\nSimon Kenton was a striking example of cool, deliberate bravery, united\nwith a tender, sympathizing heart. In times of danger and conflict, all\nhis energies were enlisted in the struggle. He fought for victory,\nregardless of consequences; but the moment the contest was over, and his\nfeelings resumed their usual state, he could sit down and weep over the\nmisery he had assisted in producing. Doubtless this extreme sensibility\nwas the cause of his being driven into the wilds of the West\u2014the\nwretchedness he suffered on account of the blow he had dealt in a moment\nof passion being such as permitted his mind no repose for a long period\nafter the deed was committed. Such tenderness of heart is not\nincompatible with the sternest bravery\u2014indeed, the most heroic are,\nusually, also the most gentle and generous in times of repose. During a\nlarge portion of his life, solitude, danger and want were his\nattendants; necessity had so familiarized him to privation, that he\ncould endure abstinence from food, and subsist on as small a quantity of\nit, without detriment to health or strength, as the savages themselves.\n\nDuring his residence in the wilderness, the land-warrants issued by the\ncommonwealth of Virginia were easily obtained. After the holders were\npermitted to locate them west of the mountains, he found no difficulty\nin possessing himself of as many of them as he desired; and having\ntraversed the wilderness in every direction, his topographical knowledge\nenabled him to select for location the best and most valuable lands in\nthe country. Well, too, had he earned these estates, for his hand had\nopened them not only to himself but for thousands of others to possess\nand enjoy. Had he possessed the information necessary to enable him to\nmake his entries sufficiently special to stand the test of legal\nscrutiny, his locations would have been the foundation of a princely\nfortune for himself and his descendants. Unfortunately, however, he was\nuneducated; and, although his locations were judicious, and his entries\nwere made in the expressive language suggested by a vigorous mind, yet\nthey were not sufficiently technical; in consequence of which the\ngreater part of them were lost, by subsequent entries more specifically\nand technically made. He succeeded in retaining a few of them however,\nand these were sufficient to make him entirely independent.\n\nThe first authentic information we have of him, after he left the place\nof his nativity, is that he was engaged in the great battle fought at\nthe mouth of the Big Kanawha, between the Indians and the troops of Lord\nDinsmore, while he was Governor of the Province of Virginia; in which\nhe, Kenton, was distinguished for his bravery.\n\nThe next intelligence is, that in 1775, he was in the district of\nKentucky commanding a station, near the spot where the town of\nWashington now stands. Not long after that work was done, the station\nwas discovered, attacked and destroyed by the Indians, and it does not\nappear that he made any effort to reoccupy it until the year 1784, after\nthe treaty of peace with Great Britain. In that year he rebuilt his\nblock-house and cabins, and proceeded to raise a crop; and though\nfrequently disturbed by the Indians, he continued to occupy and improve\nit, until he removed his family to Ohio, some eight or ten years after\nthe treaty of Greenville.\n\nAt the commencement of the war of 1812, Kenton was a citizen of Ohio,\nresiding in the vicinity of Urbana. He then bore on his person the scars\nof many a bloody conflict; yet he repaired to the American camp and\nvolunteered in the army of Harrison. His personal bravery was\nproverbial; his skill and tact in Indian warfare were well known; and as\nthe frontier at that time abounded with Indians, most of whom had joined\nthe British standard, the services of such an experienced Indian-fighter\nas Simon Kenton were highly appreciated by General Harrison and Governor\nMeigs, each of whom had known him personally for many years. His offer\nwas promptly accepted, and the command of a regiment conferred upon him.\nWhile a portion of the army was stationed at Urbana, a mutinous plan was\nformed by some of the militia to attack an encampment of friendly\nIndians, who, threatened by the hostile tribes, had been invited to\nremove their families within our frontier settlements for protection.\nKenton remonstrated against the movement, as being not only mutinous,\nbut treacherous and cowardly. He appealed to their humanity, and their\nhonor as soldiers. He told them that he had endured suffering and\ntorture at the hands of these people again and again, but that was in\ntime of war; and now, when they had come to us under promise of safety,\nhe should permit no treachery toward them. Finding the mutineers still\nbent on their purpose, he took a rifle and called on them to proceed,\ndeclaring that he should accompany them to the encampment, and shoot\ndown the first man who attempted to molest it. Knowing that the veteran\nwould keep his promise, no one ventured to take the lead. Thus generous\nwas Kenton in times of peace; thus brave in times of war.\n\nWe have said that he secured enough land\u2014despite of the entries made\nafter and upon his\u2014to render him independent for life; but there were\nnot wanting those, in his latter days, base enough to defraud the\nconfiding and noble old hero out of the remainder of his affluence. In\n1828 Congress granted him a pension, dating back many years, which\nafforded him an ample support the remainder of his life.\n\nThe records of such lives as his should be carefully preserved, that the\nluxurious and effeminate young men of to-day, and those of the future,\nmay know by what courage and hardships their ease has been secured to\nthem.\n\n\n\n\n MURPHY SAVING THE FORT.\n\n\nSuddenly, through the clear stillness of an autumn morning rung out the\nthree rapid reports of an alarm-gun, which had been agreed upon by the\nthree frontier forts defending the valley of the Schoharie, as a signal\nof danger. The faint flush in the eastern sky was as yet not strong\nenough to tinge the white frost glittering over leaf and grass; the deep\nrepose of earliest dawn rested over all things in that beautiful vale;\nbut as the thunder of that alarm-gun rolled sullenly along the air,\nevery eye unclosed, every heart awoke from the even pulse of sleep to\nthe hurried beat of fear and excitement.\n\nNot even the inhabitants of Gettysburg, nor the plundered, misused\npeople of East Tennessee, can imagine the appalling terrors which beset\nour ancestors during those \"days which tried men's souls,\" when they\nfought for the liberties which now we are bound to defend in all their\nsanctity against foes at home or abroad. When we recall the price paid\nfor our present position in the van of progress and free government,\nwell may our hearts burn with inextinguishable resolve never to give up\nwhat was so nobly purchased.\n\nPardon the reflection, which has nothing to do with the story we have to\ntell of TIMOTHY MURPHY, THE CELEBRATED RIFLEMAN OF MORGAN'S CORPS. Only\nthis we _must_ say: our English neighbors, who are so much shocked at\nthe way we have managed our civil war, ought to turn back to that\ndisgraceful page of their history whereon is written the hideous record\nof Indian barbarities which they employed against us\u2014_against our women\nand children, our firesides, our innocent babes_!\n\nThe signal was fired by the upper fort; but when those of the middle\nfort sprung to the ramparts to ascertain the cause of alarm, they found\ntheir own walls completely invested. A combined force of British troops,\nHessian hirelings and tories, with a body of Indians of the Six Nations,\nunder their war-chief, Joseph Brant\u2014the whole under the command of Sir\nJohn Johnson\u2014passing the first fort unobserved, had entered the valley.\nAfter the usual manner of their warfare, the work of destruction upon\npeaceable inhabitants immediately commenced. Farm-houses were in flames;\nwomen and children, who ran from them, found refuge only in the tortures\nof the savages waiting without; barns, filled with the plenty of autumn,\nblazed up a few moments with the wild brightness of ruin, and then sunk\nback, a smoldering heap, to tell of poverty and famine. While this cruel\nwork was progressing, a column of the enemy, with two small mortars and\na field-piece called a \"grasshopper,\"\u2014from being mounted upon legs\ninstead of wheels\u2014was sent to occupy a height which commanded the middle\nfort. This, with its little garrison of about two hundred men, was\nsurrounded, and lay completely under the enemy's fire.\n\nUnder these circumstances the men turned to their commander for\ninstructions. Unfortunately, Major Woolsey was a fallen star amid that\nglorious galaxy to which we look back with such pride\u2014he was that\npitiable object at which women blush\u2014a _coward in epaulettes_! Where was\nhe in the emergency which ought to have called forth all his powers?\n\"Among the women and children in a house of the fort!\" says the\nhistorian, but the narrator does not inform us whether or not the Major\nabsolutely begged the shelter of their skirts! And, \"when driven out by\nthe ridicule of his associates, he crawled around the intrenchments upon\nhis hands and knees.\" There was one way in which this incident was of\nservice to the troops who awaited the orders of their commander. The\nMajor's cowardice was so utterly ridiculous that the jeers and laughter\nit called forth restored courage to the men, who had been so suddenly\nsurprised as to be at first disheartened.\n\nAmong those who shook with mingled wrath and laughter at sight of the\nimpotence of their leader was Murphy. At the first note of danger he had\nsprung to the ramparts, his unerring rifle in hand, his bright eye\nflashing fire. _He_ should have been in the Major's place. It is men\nlike him who electrify their comrades with the thrilling enthusiasm and\nreliance of their own courage\u2014men who know not fear, who think nothing\nof themselves and all of their cause\u2014cool, prompt, ready for any\nemergency. _He_ should have been the leader: but he was only a\nmilitiaman, whose term of service had expired at that, and who was\n\"fighting on his own account.\" But he could not brook the disgrace of\nsuch leadership; when the commander of the fort went creeping about on\nhis hands, the militiaman felt that it was time to take the reins in his\nown grasp, and he did it. Implicit obedience from the soldier to the\nofficer is a necessity; but there are exceptions to all rules, and this\nwas one of them; to be mutinous then was to be true to duty and to\nhonor. Deeming the fort their own, the enemy sent out an officer with a\nflag of truce. As soon as he came in sight, the relieved Major got off\nhis knees, commanding his men to cease all firing. Now it was that this\njustifiable mutiny ensued. Murphy, from his position on the ramparts,\nanswered to the flag, warning it away, threatening in event of its\ncloser approach to _fire upon it_. This remarkable assumption of\nauthority confounded all within the fort. He was ordered by the officers\nof the regular troops to forbear, but the militiamen, whose hero he was,\ncheered him, and swore he should have his way. Thus supported, as soon\nas the flag of truce came within range, he fired purposely missing the\nmessenger who bore it, when the flag quickly retired. This \"outrage\" at\nonce closed all avenues to a peaceful surrender. The enemy's artillery\nopened upon the fort. A continual fusillade was kept up by the mortars,\nthe grasshopper, and the rifles of the Indians, fortunately with little\neffect. Many an Indian, who considered himself at a prudent distance,\nbit the dust, as the smoke cleared away from the busy rifle of Timothy\nMurphy. Hour after hour the attack continued. A number of shells were\nthrown, but only two of them fell inside the walls; one of these pierced\nthe house within the palisades, and descending to the first story,\nsmothered itself in a feather-bed, without doing any fatal injury. The\ngallant Major commanding should have been ensconced for safety in those\nfeathers! The other shell set fire to the roof, which was saved from\ndestruction by a pail of water carried by the intrepid Philip Graft, the\nsentinel who had first discovered the approach of the British troops.\n\nMany exciting events occurred during that long forenoon. A large barn,\nfilled with grain, and surrounded by several stacks of wheat, stood a\nfew hundred feet from the fort. It was several times set on fire. As it\nwas important to save its contents, Lieutenant Spencer, with his band of\nforty men, sallied out on each occasion, and extinguished the flames.\nThis heroic party also made sorties, whenever the enemy approached too\nnear the fort, which could not be properly protected, owing to a short\nsupply of ammunition.\n\nNow it was, also, that the courage of women\u2014which the annals of the\nRevolution set forth in such noble luster\u2014shone resplendent above the\ncraven fear of the commander. Some of the women armed themselves,\navowing their determination to aid in the defense, should the attack\nreach the walls. The supply of water threatening to give out, a soldier\nwas ordered to bring some from a well outside the works. He turned pale\nand stood trembling in his shoes, between the double danger of\ndisobedience and exposure to the enemy's fire.\n\n\"Give the bucket to me!\" cried a girl, not over nineteen years of age,\nher red lip curling slightly with scorn, as she took the bucket from his\nyielding hand, and went forth after the much-needed necessary of life.\n\nA shout of enthusiasm broke from the spectators. With a smile on her\nface and a clear luster in her eyes, inspiriting to see, she went out on\nher dangerous journey. Without the least appearance of trepidation, she\nfilled her bucket and returned, passing within range of the enemy's\nfire. This errand she performed several times in safety.\n\nAll this time the rifle of Murphy was doing its appointed work. In the\ncourse of the forenoon he saw a second flag approaching to demand the\nsurrender of the fort. Seeing him preparing to salute it as he had the\nformer, Major Woolsey ordered the independent rifleman from the\nramparts.\n\n\"I shan't come down,\" said the sturdy patriot. \"I'm going to fire on\nthat white rag.\"\n\n\"Then I shall be obliged to kill you on the spot,\" said the Major,\ndrawing his sword, and making a flourish.\n\nMurphy only took one eye from the advancing flag; his weapon was\nsighted; he was not sufficiently alarmed by this threat to lose its\nposition.\n\n\"Kill away, Major, if you think best. It won't better _your_ situation\nmuch. I know you, and what you will do. _You will surrender this fort._\nYes, sir; in the hopes of saving your miserable skin, you'll surrender!\nBut you won't even save your own carcass. You can believe what I tell\nyou. I know them troops out thar, and their way of fightin'. You won't\nmake nothing by surrendering to _them_, and Tim Murphy, for one, ain't\ngoing to surrender. _No, sir!_\"\n\nAgain the gallant militiamen applauded his sentiments, which were no\nsooner uttered than the rifleman discharged his piece at the approaching\nofficer, missing him, as before, purposely. Of course, at this,\nhostilities were renewed; but, as the rifleman said, he knew which of\ntwo dangers was most to be dreaded; and, if he must perish, he preferred\nto die in defense of what had been intrusted to them rather than to be\nsmote down after the humiliation of a surrender by murderers who\nrespected none of the laws of war. It is true, that, to fire upon a flag\nof truce, was a breach of military usage, and, in almost any\ncircumstances, inexcusable; but not so now, when the garrison would only\nmeet with the most fatal treachery as the result of any interview. The\nofficers of the regulars, however, did not so regard the affair. Brought\nup under the stern discipline of military rule, they took sides with the\nMajor, and expostulated with Murphy upon his unwarrantable violation of\nthe laws of war.\n\n\"Don't talk,\" he cried, impatiently. \"Jest come up here and take a look\nat the smoke arising from the homes of defenseless citizens. Take a look\nat the red-skins dancing around 'em, like devils around the fires of\nhell. Hear the screams of them women and children they are murderin' in\ncold blood. By the God above, if I could get at them fiends, I'd stop\nthat music!\" His teeth were firmly set; his face hardened; his eyes\nshone like two coals of fire; and, disdaining to argue his point at a\nmoment like that, he settled his weapon for the next victim who should\nventure within range.\n\nThe garrison could indeed hear, in the intervals of the cannon's\nsilence, the shrieks of helpless families smote down by the tomahawk.\n\n\"Do you hear it?\" he cried again, as the shrill cry of a female voice\npierced the air. \"That's the kind of enemy you've got to deal with, and\nthere you stand, balancing yourselves on a _p'int of law_! If you open\nyour gates and lay down your arms, you, nor your wives and children,\nwon't meet any better fate. If you want to be tortured by red-skins, and\nyour families given up to their devilment, let 'em in, let 'em in! _I_\nshan't have a hand in it.\"\n\nThe signs of a final charge about to be given allowed no time for\nfarther argument. Sir John, drawing up his regular troops in the rear of\na frame building standing near the fort, prepared for an assault, while\nthe garrison within made what readiness they could to repel it. The\nwomen, knowing how little they had to expect if the place fell, grasped\nthe weapons they had solicited and took their stations near the men,\nresolved to deal such blows as they could in self-defense. With pale\ncheeks, but hearts that had outgrown their natural timidity, they\nawaited the expected blow.\n\nAt this moment of peril and suspense, for the third time a flag of truce\nwas seen approaching Fort Hunter. Again the undaunted Murphy prepared to\nfire upon it; but this time, made desperate by his very cowardice, Major\nWoolsey commanded his soldiers to arrest the disobedient rifleman. The\nmilitia, however, gathered around their hero, threatening any and all\nwho should molest him; they had confidence that the judgment of one so\nbrave was superior to that of the officer who had shown himself so unfit\nfor his position. In the mean time, precious time was being lost. In a\nmoment more Murphy would enrage the foe by again insulting their flag.\nThe commander ordered a white flag to be shown. A handkerchief was\nplaced on a staff and a soldier ordered to display it.\n\n\"The man who dares attempt it will be shot down by my own rifle,\"\nthundered the inexorable militiaman, who thus braved the regular\nauthority. The men knew that he meant what he said, and not one was\nfound to attempt to execute the order of Woolsey.\n\n\"Who commands here, you or I?\" shouted the enraged Major.\n\n\"I reckon _I_ do, as far as not givin' up goes,\" was the cool answer.\n\nAt this crisis, Captain Reghtmeyer, of the militia, feeling that their\ncommander was about to betray them all, took up his station by the\nrifleman and ordered him to fire.\n\nExasperated by such contumacy, Woolsey drew his sword upon the Captain,\nthreatening to cut him down unless his orders were obeyed. It was a\nstrange time for persons associated in such imminent peril to fall out\namong themselves; but the brave and unflinching were not disposed to\nyield their fate into the hands of the weak and vacillating. Captain\nReghtmeyer, in answer to this threat, clubbed his gun, and awaited the\nattack of the Major, resolved to dash out his brains if he assaulted\nhim; whereupon that officer, thinking in this, as in other cases, that\ndiscretion was the better part of valor, subsided into silence.\n\nThe flag-officer of the enemy, as soon as he came within range, seeing\nMurphy bring his rifle to his shoulder, immediately turned and ran back;\nhe had no mind to encounter the sharp warning which had been given his\npredecessors.\n\nThen followed a moment of suspense. The little garrison expected nothing\nbetter than an angry and overwhelming assault; the men breathed heavily,\ngrasping their muskets sternly, while the women's faces grew like those\nof their fathers and husbands, settling into the firm lines of resolve.\nMoment after moment crept away; a half-hour sped, and yet the roar of\nartillery and the nearer shouts of the expected assailants were not\nheard.\n\n\"You needn't give yourself no further oneasiness, Major,\" at length\nspoke the gallant Murphy, contempt mingling with relief and joy in his\nvoice. He had kept his gaze fixed upon the movements of the enemy, and\nnow perceived that they were retiring. \"The red-coats and red-skins are\ntakin' themselves off. It's jest as I told you\u2014the spunk we've shown\nmakes 'em think us stronger than we are, and they've made up their minds\nto back out.\"\n\nAnd so, indeed, it proved! \"The spunk _we've_ shown\" Murphy modestly\nsaid; which was really the spunk _he_ had shown. His courage and\npersistence saved Fort Hunter. The British officers naturally supposed\ntheir flag of truce would not be three times fired upon unless that fort\nwas to be defended to the death. They therefore decided to withdraw, and\nto abandon the attempt for its capture.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n Murphy Saving the Fort\u2014_Page_ 22.\n]\n\nThus was the fort, with all its precious lives, preserved by the tact as\nwell as the determination of a single man. However chagrined the\n\"gallant\" Major may have been at the flagrant disobedience of an\ninferior, the results were such as to nullify the consequences of his\nanger. The fact _that the fort was saved_ was the mutineer's\njustification.\n\nThis affair occurred in 1780. It was not the first gallant exploit of\nour hero\u2014nor the last. He had already made himself famous by deeds both\nof daring, dashing boldness, and deliberate courage.\n\nThree years before the attack on Fort Hunter, at the battle of\nStillwater in 1777, he had killed the British General, Frazer, by a ball\nfrom his unerring rifle. This is the first record we have of him; but\nafter that many instances were noted of his extraordinary prowess, and\nmany more, doubtless, of equal interest, never have received a\nchronicle. He had a peculiar hatred of the Indians, called forth by the\nmany proofs of their treachery and cruelty. He was a valuable\nacquisition to any party of scouts who might be out after the red-skins;\nand many were the marvelous escapes he had.\n\nAs an instance of that _obstinacy_ of his character exhibited in his\nconduct at the attack upon Fort Hunter, we must give the reader an\naccount of another and quite different circumstance, in which he\ndisplayed the same determination to _have his own way_\u2014and in which he\nhad it! This little episode in the life of the celebrated rifleman is\nnot only interesting in itself, but also as showing under what\ndifficulties the little GOD OF LOVE will struggle and triumph.\n\n \"Love rules the court, the camp, the grove:\"\n\nand not the fiery sword of Mars himself can frighten him from his\nuniversal throne.\n\nAfter the attack upon Fort Hunter, Murphy, although his period of\nenlistment had expired, still remained with the garrison. It was not\nlong after this that something besides duty to his country began to bind\nhim to the valley of the Schoharie. The heart which had never quailed\nbefore an Indian or red-coat, was brought low by a shaft from the bright\neyes of a maiden of sixteen!\n\nNot far from the fort dwelt a family by the name of Feeck, whose home\nhad escaped destruction from the advent of the enemy. Their daughter\nMargaret was a spirited and handsome girl, in whose dark blue eyes\nlaughed mischief and tenderness combined; her auburn hair shaded cheeks\nrosy with health; her form was just rounding into the fullness of\nmaidenhood, with a grace all its own, acquired from the fresh air and\nbountiful exercise to which she was accustomed. The historian does not\ntell us how the first meeting occurred, but certain it is that the\nindomitable heart of the rifleman was conquered at last. Murphy was then\ntwenty-eight years of age and Margaret but sixteen. There is something\nin the nature of a woman which does homage to bravery in a man. The man\nwho has the reputation of cowardice may be handsome and elegant, but\n_she_ will despise him; he alone who is famous for courage commands\nwoman's full respect and _love_. When the invincible rifleman, whose\niron nerves shrunk from no exposure, and whose energy was daunted by no\ndifficulties, betrayed to the young girl, by his faltering manner in her\npresence, that _she_ could do what armies could not\u2014confuse and master\nhim\u2014her breast thrilled with pride and delight. The disparity of their\nages was nothing to her; she felt honored at being the choice of a brave\nman; her timid glance, usually so mischievous, encouraged him to speak,\nand when he did he was not rejected.\n\nWhether it was that Margaret's parents thought her too young, or that\nthere was too great a discrepancy in their ages, or that they had some\nprejudice against Murphy, we are not advised; but they strenuously\nopposed the intimacy, forbidding the lover to enter their house. Then it\nwas that he again questioned the authority of the ruling powers. It was\nnot in his nature to submit to this arbitrary decree. As once before he\nhad \"had his own way\" in defiance of superiors, he was resolved to have\nit now. He loved the maiden and she him; there was none who should keep\nthem apart. When he made a resolution it might be considered as carried\nout. Margaret, drooping about the house, doing her work listlessly,\ninstead of with joyous singing, received a communication which brought\nback the roses to her cheeks in fuller bloom than ever. A faithful\nfriend of Murphy, living not far from the Feeck family, on the Schoharie\ncreek, was the person who wrought this change in the young girl. During\na visit to the parents, he contrived to arrange a meeting at his own\nhouse with her lover. Thither she went one day on a pretended errand,\nand found her lover awaiting her. During the interview a plan was\narranged for eluding the vigilance of her parents and consummating their\nhappiness by marriage.\n\nThere was some difficulty about this, for her father and mother had\ninstituted a close surveillance over all the \"coming and going.\"\nMargaret herself, though willing, was timid, shrinking from the danger\nof detection and the anger of her parents.\n\n\"Pshaw!\" said Murphy, squeezing the hand he held in his own broad palm,\n\"it's likely I can't take care of _you_, Maggie! I've trailed too many\nInjuns, and dodged too many bullets, to think much of carrying off my\ngirl when I want her. Jest you be on the spot, and leave the rest to\nme.\"\n\nShe promised, and they separated to wait impatiently for the appointed\nevening. When it came, Margaret, under pretense of going to milk, some\ndistance from the house, stole away from home to meet her intended\nhusband. She dared not make the least change in her apparel, lest\nsuspicion should be excited; and when she made her appearance at the\nappointed spot, she presented but little of the usual semblance of an\nexpectant _bride_. She was barefoot and bareheaded, and wore the short\ngown and petticoat, so much the vogue among females of that day as a\nmorning or working-dress; but beneath the humble garb beat a true and\ningenuous heart, worth more than outward trappings to any man. The form,\narrayed in homespun, was of a blooming and substantial beauty, which\nneeded not the \"foreign aid of ornament.\"\n\nShe was first at the place of rendezvous, where she waited with fear and\nimpatience for her lover, but no lover came. Twilight was fast fading\ninto darkness, and yet he came not. From her little nook of concealment,\nbehind a clump of alders which grew on a bend of the stream, out of\nsight of her home, she strained her eyes to look for the approaching\nform, which still came not. The pink tinge which flushed the silver\nwater died off into the gray of evening; every moment she expected to\nhear the stern voice of her father calling her. What should she do? It\nwould not answer to return home, for she already had been gone too long.\nThe cow had not been milked, and if she went back now, her unusual\nabsence must excite suspicions, which would prevent a future meeting\nwith her lover. This was her greatest dread. She had dwelt on their\nunion too fondly to endure the return now to a hopeless separation.\n\nMargaret was not long in making up her mind what course to pursue. Since\nMurphy had not come to her she would go to him! She knew him brave and\nhonorable, and that some important matter must have kept him from the\ntryst. In order to reach the fort she was obliged to ford the stream.\nAbout this she had no squeamishness, as she had performed the feat one\nhundred times before; the stream was shallow and not very wide.\nEvidently she was fortunate in not being troubled with shoes and\nstockings in the present emergency; it did not trouble her much to hold\nup her short skirts from the water into which she waded; and, as her\nlittle feet felt their cautious way across the creek, no doubt she\nlooked as pretty to her lover, in her attitudes of unconscious grace, as\nother brides have done under more fortunate circumstances; for Murphy\nsaw the whole proceeding with a pleased eye, taking her advance as a\nproof both of her love for, and faith in, himself. He had been detained\nat the fort by some provoking duties, and had ridden up to the brook\njust as Margaret began to cross.\n\nAlthough in her heart she felt inwardly relieved to find him there, the\nmaiden began to pout at his tardiness, and to regret that she had taken\na step beyond the trysting-place to meet a lover who would not take the\ntrouble to be punctual to an appointment like this.\n\n\"I shall go home again, Tim,\" she cried, concealing her blushes under a\nfrown, which, though pretty, was not at all frightful.\n\n\"Not to-night, Maggie,\" he said, as, lifting her up behind him, he sped\naway to the fort.\n\nMurphy was a general favorite among the garrison; not an individual\nthere who would not willingly have aided and assisted him in his nuptial\nenterprise. His plans were well known; and, as the happy couple rode in\nat the gate, lighted by the last lingering gleam of sunset in the west,\nthey were received with three hearty cheers. The circumstances were such\nas to call forth the warmest interest of the female part of the\npopulation. The young maiden was taken in charge by them. As there was\nno minister to perform the ceremony of marriage, the couple would be\nobliged to take a trip to Schenectady, twenty-five miles distant. The\nevening was spent in preparation. Various choice articles of apparel and\nornament, some of which, doubtless, had served a similar purpose on\nformer occasions, were brought forth; all went to work with a will to\nfit out this impromptu bridal _trousseau_. By morning every thing was in\nreadiness except the proper dress. This, Murphy decided to procure in\nSchenectady.\n\nAs time was precious they started at dawn, and made the whole distance\nin four hours. A handsome silk dress was here purchased and placed in\nthe hands of a dressmaker and some friends, who performed wonders which\nwould astonish a _modiste_ of to-day: they completed the dress in the\ncourse of the afternoon! The couple stopped at the house of friends, who\ndid all they could to assist in the pleasant project. Before dark the\nbride was arrayed in a manner becoming the important occasion. A gay\ncompany, composed of some of their acquaintances, accompanied the happy\npair to the residence of the Rev. Mr. Johnson, where the solemn ceremony\nwhich united their lives in one was performed; after which they returned\nto the house of their friends to spend the wedding-night.\n\nWe are afraid if some of the dainty belles of the present day had to\naccomplish as much in one day as had been done by this bride, before\nthey could find themselves safely wedded to the object of their choice,\nthey would shrink away dismayed, and settle down into old maids. To run\naway from home barefoot; to wade a creek; to ride into a fort behind her\nlover; to ride twenty-five miles; to buy and make a wedding-dress, and\nattire herself for the ceremony; to go to the minister and get married,\nall in twenty-four hours, showed an energy worthy of the times. Such\nkind of women were fit wives for the men who bore the perils of the\nRevolution, and whose strength of mind and heart, whose unconquerable\nlove of liberty, secured to us our inheritance.\n\nOn their return to Schoharie, the parents of the bride were exceedingly\nwroth at the disobedience of their daughter, and at the presumption of\nthe daring rifleman. For a time they refused to be reconciled; but,\nreflecting that no opposition could alter or recall the act, they at\nlength concluded to overlook all and receive the couple to their love.\n\nThe brave rifleman made a true husband. Margaret, who lived with him\nhappily for nearly thirty years, had no reason to regret the hour when\nshe forded Schoharie creek in search of her tardy lover.\n\nDespite of the eventful perils into which he was always flinging\nhimself, Murphy lived to see years of peace, dying of cancer in the\nthroat, in 1818, at the age of sixty-eight. He was an uneducated man;\nbut, possessed of a strong will and an amiable disposition, he exerted\nan unbounded influence over the minds of a certain class of men, who,\nlike himself, were schooled in trial. His power was that of originality,\nindependence and courage\u2014qualities which will make any man a leader of\nthe people among whom he moves. Men of his stamp were a necessity of the\ntimes in which they lived; they seemed to spring up in the hour of need,\nhaving patience, perseverance, endurance and boldness to cope with the\nstealthy and murderous foes who hung upon the path of our civilization.\nThey deserve to be embalmed in the annals of the country in whose guard\nthey fought.\n\n\n\n\n BRANT AND THE BOY.\n\n\nOne bright summer morning, a lad by the name of M'Kown was engaged in\nraking hay in a field some distance from any house, and\u2014as was the\ncustom with all who labored abroad in those days of danger and sudden\nsurprise\u2014was armed with a musket, which, however, he had stood against a\ntree; but in the progress of his work had advanced beyond its immediate\nproximity. While busily occupied, and intent upon his work, he heard a\nslight jingling behind him, and turning suddenly around, he beheld an\nIndian within three feet of him, who bore in his mien and costume the\nappearance of a chief; and although his position indicated peaceful\nintentions, the tomahawk in his right hand betokened his readiness for\nhostilities if occasion required it. Startled at this sudden and\nunexpected apparition, the youth, with a natural impulse, raised his\nrake to defend himself, thoughtless of the insufficiency of his weapon.\nHis fears were dissipated by the Indian, who remarked:\n\n[Illustration:\n\n Brant and young M'Kown\u2014_Page_ 35.\n]\n\n\"Do not be afraid, young man; I shall not hurt you.\"\n\nHe then inquired of the lad if he could direct him to the residence of a\nnoted loyalist by the name of Foster. Young M'Kown gave him the\nnecessary directions to enable him to find that personage, and then,\nemboldened by the apparent peaceable intentions of the other, asked him\nif he knew Mr. Foster.\n\n\"I am partially acquainted with him,\" was the reply, \"having once met\nhim at the half-way creek.\"\n\nThe Indian then entered into a familiar conversation with his\ninterrogator, in the course of which he asked him his name, and upon\nbeing informed, he added:\n\n\"You are a son, then, of Captain M'Kown, who lives in the north-east\npart of the town, I suppose. I know your father very well; he lives\nneighbor to Captain M'Kean. I know M'Kean very well, and a very fine\nfellow he is, too.\"\n\nThus the parties conversed together in a social manner for some time,\nuntil the boy\u2014emboldened by the familiarity which had been established\nbetween them\u2014ventured to ask the Indian his name in turn. This he did\nnot seem disposed to give him, hesitating for a moment, but at length\nreplied:\n\n\"My name is Brant.\"\n\n\"What! Captain Brant?\" eagerly demanded the youth.\n\n\"No; I am a cousin of his,\" replied the Indian, at the same time\naccompanying his assertion with a smile and expression of countenance\nwhich intimated his attempt to deceive his interlocutor. It was indeed\nthe terrible Thayendanega himself, who was associated, in the mind of\nthe youth, with every possible trait of a fiendlike character; and it is\nnot to be wondered at, that he trembled as he felt himself to be in the\npresence of one whose delight, it had been represented to him, was to\nrevel in slaughter and bloodshed. He was somewhat reassured, however, by\nthe thought, that, if his intentions had been hostile toward him, he\ncould easily have executed them before; but he did not feel fully\nassured of his safety until the Indian had taken his departure, and he\nhad reached his home with his life and scalp intact.\n\nThis little incident is but one of many, told to prove that Brant was\nnot the bloodthirsty monster which, for many years after the Revolution,\nhe had the reputation of being. He was a Freemason: and on several\noccasions, during the war, his fraternal feelings were called into play,\nin behalf of prisoners who belonged to that order. Among others we are\ntold:\n\nJonathan Maynard, Esq.\u2014afterward a member of the Massachusetts\nSenate\u2014who was actively engaged in the Revolutionary war, was taken\nprisoner at one time by a party of Indians under the command of Brant.\nThe younger warriors of the party seemed disposed to put him to death,\nin accordance with their determination to exterminate the whites, as\nagreed upon by the tories and Indians in that section of the country.\nPreparations had been made to carry out their intentions, when, having\nbeen partially stripped of his clothing, Brant observed the emblems of\nMasonry indelibly marked upon the prisoner's arms, and feeling bound to\nhim by a tie which none but a _brother_ can appreciate, he interposed\nhis authority, saved his life, and sent him to Canada, to keep him out\nof harm's way; and he remained in durance for several months, until\nexchanged and allowed to return home.\n\nThere is another incident, where Brant met one of his old schoolmates;\nbut where the circumstances of their early intimacy would not have\ninterfered between the white officer and death, had he not saved himself\nby means of justifiable duplicity.\n\nIn the month of April, in 1780, it was the intention of Captain Brant,\nthe Indian chieftain, to make a descent upon the upper fort of\nSchoharie, but which was prevented by an unlooked-for circumstance.\nColonel Vrooman had sent out a party of scouts to pass over to the\nhead-waters of the Charlotte river, where resided certain suspected\npersons, whose movements it was their duty to watch. It being the proper\nseason for the manufacture of maple sugar, the men were directed to make\na quantity of that article, of which the garrison were greatly in want.\nOn the 2d of April this party, under the command of Captain Harper,\ncommenced their labors, which they did cheerfully, and entirely\nunapprehensive of danger, as a fall of snow, some three feet deep, would\nprevent, they supposed, the moving of any considerable body of the\nenemy, while in fact they were not aware of any body of the armed foe\nshort of Niagara. But on the 7th of April they were suddenly surrounded\nby a party of about forty Indians and tories, the first knowledge of\nwhose presence was the death of three of their party. The leader was\ninstantly discovered in the person of the Mohawk chief, who rushed up to\nCaptain Harper, tomahawk in hand, and observed: \"Harper, I am sorry to\nfind you here!\"\n\n\"Why are you sorry, Captain Brant?\" replied the other.\n\n\"Because,\" replied the chief, \"I _must_ kill you, although we were\nschoolmates in our youth\"\u2014at the same time raising his hatchet, and\nsuiting the action to the word. Suddenly his arm fell, and with a\npiercing scrutiny, looking Harper full in the face, he inquired: \"Are\nthere any regular troops in the fort in Schoharie?\" Harper caught the\nidea in an instant. To answer truly, and admit there were none, as was\nthe fact, would but hasten Brant and his warriors forward to fall upon\nthe settlements at once, and their destruction would have been swift and\nsure. He therefore informed him that a reinforcement of three hundred\nContinental troops had arrived to garrison the forts only two or three\ndays before. This information appeared very much to disconcert the\nchieftain. He prevented the further shedding of blood, and held a\nconsultation with his subordinate chiefs. Night coming on, the prisoners\nwere shut up in a pen of logs, and guarded by the tories, while among\nthe Indians, controversy ran high whether the prisoners should be put to\ndeath or carried to Niagara. The captives were bound hand and foot, and\nwere so near the council that Harper, who understood something of the\nIndian tongue, could hear the dispute. The Indians were for putting them\nto death, but Brant exercised his authority to effectually prevent the\nmassacre.\n\nOn the following morning Harper was brought before the Indians for\nexamination. The chief commenced by saying that he was suspicious he had\nnot told him the truth. Harper, however, although Brant was eyeing him\nlike a basilisk, repeated his former statements, without the improper\nmovement of a muscle, or any betrayal that he was deceiving. Brant,\nsatisfied of the truth of the story, resolved to retrace his steps to\nNiagara. But his warriors were disappointed in their hopes of spoils and\nvictory, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that they were\nprevented from putting the captives to death.\n\nTheir march was forthwith commenced, and was full of pain, peril and\nadventure. They met on the succeeding day with two loyalists, who both\ndisproved Harper's story of troops being at Schoharie, and the Captain\nwas again subjected to a piercing scrutiny; but he succeeded so well in\nmaintaining the appearance of truth and sincerity as to arrest the\nupraised and glittering tomahawk. On the same day an aged man, named\nBrown, was accidentally fallen in with and taken prisoner, with two\nyouthful grandsons; the day following, being unable to travel with\nsufficient speed, and sinking under the weight of the burden imposed\nupon him, the old man was put out of the way with the hatchet. The\nvictim was dragging behind, and when he saw preparations making for his\ndoom, took an affectionate farewell of his little grandsons, and the\nIndians moved on, leaving one of their number with his face painted\nblack\u2014the mark of the executioner\u2014behind with him. In a few moments\nafterward, the Indian came up, with the old man's scalp dangling from\nbetween the ramrod and the muzzle of his gun.\n\nThey constructed floats, and sailed down the Susquehanna to the\nconfluence of the Chemung, at which place their land-traveling\ncommenced. Soon after this, a severe trial and narrow escape befell the\nprisoners. During his march from Niagara on this expedition, Brant had\ndetached eleven of his warriors, to fall once more upon the Minisink\nsettlement for prisoners. This detachment, as it subsequently appeared,\nhad succeeded in taking captive five athletic men, whom they secured and\nbrought with them as far as Tioga Point. The Indians slept very soundly,\nand the five prisoners had resolved, on the first opportunity, to make\ntheir escape. While encamped at this place during the night, one of the\nMinisink men succeeded in extricating his hands from the binding cords,\nand with the utmost caution, unloosed his four companions. The Indians\nwere locked in the arms of deep sleep around them. Silently, without\ncausing a leaf to rustle, they each snatched a tomahawk from the girdles\nof their unconscious enemies, and in a moment nine of them were\nquivering in the agonies of death. The two others were awakened, and\nspringing upon their feet, attempted to escape. One of them was struck\nwith a hatchet between the shoulders, but the other fled. The prisoners\nimmediately made good their own retreat, and the only Indian who escaped\nunhurt returned to take care of his wounded companion. As Brant and his\nwarriors approached this point of their journey, some of his Indians\nhaving raised a whoop, it was returned by a single voice, with the\n_death yell_! Startled at this unexpected signal, Brant's warriors\nrushed forward to ascertain the cause. But they were not long in doubt.\nThe lone warrior met them, and soon related to his brethren the\nmelancholy fate of his companions. The effect upon the warriors, who\ngathered in a group to hear the recital, was inexpressibly fearful.\nRage, and a desire of revenge, seemed to kindle every bosom, and light\nevery eye as with burning coals. They gathered around the prisoners in a\ncircle, and began to make unequivocal preparations for hacking them to\npieces. Harper and his men of course gave themselves up for lost. While\ntheir knives were unsheathing, and their hatchets glittering, as they\nwere flourished in the sunbeams, the only survivor of the murdered party\nrushed into the circle and interposed in their favor. With a wave of the\nhand, as of a warrior entitled to be heard\u2014for he was himself a\nchief\u2014silence was restored, and the prisoners were surprised by the\nutterance of an earnest appeal in their behalf. He eloquently and\nimpressively declaimed in their favor, upon the ground that it was not\nthey who murdered their brothers; and to take the lives of the innocent\nwould not be right in the eyes of the Great Spirit. His appeal was\neffective. The passions of the incensed warriors were hushed, their eyes\nno longer shot forth the burning glances of revenge, and their\ngesticulations ceased to menace immediate and bloody vengeance.\n\nTrue, it so happened, that this chief knew all the prisoners\u2014he having\nresided in the Schoharie canton of the Mohawks during the war. He\ndoubtless felt a deeper interest in their behalf on that account. Still,\nit was a noble action, worthy of the proudest era of chivalry, and in\nthe palmy days of Greece and Rome, would have crowned him almost with\n\"an apotheosis and rights divine.\" The interposition of Pocahontas, in\nfavor of Captain Smith, before the rude court of Powhatan, was, perhaps,\nmore romantic; but when the motive which prompted the generous action of\nthe princess is considered, the transaction now under review exhibits\nthe most of genuine benevolence. Pocahontas was moved by the tender\npassion\u2014the Mohawk Sachem by the feelings of magnanimity, and the\neternal principles of justice. It is a matter of regret that the name of\nthis high-souled warrior is lost, as, alas! have been too many that\nmight serve to relieve the dark and vengeful portraiture of Indian\ncharacter, which it has so well pleased the white man to draw! The\nprisoners themselves were so impressed with the manner of their signal\ndeliverance, that they justly attributed it to a direct interposition of\nProvidence.\n\nAfter the most acute sufferings from hunger and exhaustion, the party at\nlast arrived at Niagara. The last night of their journey, they encamped\na short distance from the fort. In the morning the prisoners were\ninformed that they were to run the gauntlet, and were brought out where\ntwo parallel lines of Indians were drawn up, between which the prisoners\nwere to pass, exposed to the whips and blows of the savages. The course\nto be run was toward the fort. Harper was the first one selected, and at\nthe signal, sprung from the mark with extraordinary swiftness. An Indian\nnear the end of the line, fearing he might escape without injury, sprung\nbefore him, but a blow from Harper's fist felled him; the Indians,\nenraged, broke their ranks and rushed after him, as he fled with the\nutmost speed toward the fort. The garrison, when they saw Harper\napproaching, opened the gates, and he rushed in, only affording\nsufficient time for the garrison to close the gates, ere the Indians\nrushed upon it, clamoring for the possession of their victim. The other\nprisoners, taking advantage of the breaking up of the Indian ranks, took\ndifferent routes, and all succeeded in reaching the fort without passing\nthrough the terrible ordeal which was intended for them.\n\nThis was in the April preceding the final attack upon the fort in the\nSchoharie valley, which took place in the fall, as described in the\nsecond article of this number; and at which Murphy, the rifleman, so\ndistinguished himself.\n\nAs further illustrating this magnanimity which\u2014certainly at\ntimes\u2014distinguished Brant, it is said that at the horrible massacre of\nCherry Valley, Butler\u2014the tory Captain, son of the Butler who fulfilled\nhis hideous part in the destruction of Wyoming\u2014on entering a house,\nordered a woman and child to be killed who were found in bed. \"What!\"\nexclaimed Brant; \"kill a woman and child? No! that child is not an enemy\nto the king, nor a friend to Congress. Long before he will be big enough\nto do any mischief, the dispute will be settled.\"\n\nThe life of Brant was, to say the least, peculiar. An Indian, but an\neducated and traveled one, with much of the tact of civilization, and\nall the cunning and wild freedom of the savage, he made a character for\nhimself which always will occupy a niche in history. Whether the\nconflicting statements in regard to him ever will be so reconciled as to\ndecide whether he was a generous and humane enemy, or a most subtle and\nferocious one, we know not; but this is certain, he _was_ our enemy, and\na most efficient ally of the British in their attempts to put out the\nrising fires of Liberty which were kindling in our valleys, over our\nplains, and upon our hills. It was a most unfortunate thing for the\nstruggling colonists when Brant took up the hatchet in behalf of the\nking, for his arm was more to be dreaded than that of King George.\n\nJoseph Brant was an Onondaga of the Mohawk tribe, whose Indian name was\nThayendanega\u2014signifying, literally, a brant, or wild-goose. The story\nthat he was but a half-Indian, the son of a German, has been widely\nspread, but is denied by his son, and is now believed to be false. There\nare those, however, whose opinion is of weight, who assert that he was\nthe son of Sir William Johnson; and such, all circumstances considered,\nis most likely to have been the fact. He was of a lighter complexion\nthan his countrymen in general, and there are other evidences of his\nhaving been a half-breed. He received a very good English education at\nMoore's charity-school, in Lebanon, Connecticut, where he was placed\n_by_ Sir William Johnson, in July, 1761. This General Sir William\nJohnson was British agent of Indian affairs, and had greatly ingratiated\nhimself into the esteem of the Six Nations. He lived at the place since\nnamed for him, upon the north bank of the Mohawk, about forty miles from\nAlbany. Here he had an elegant country-seat, at which he often would\nentertain several hundred of his red friends, sharing all things in\ncommon with them. They so much respected him, that, although they had\nthe fullest liberty, they would take nothing which was not given to\nthem. The faster to rivet their esteem, he would, at certain seasons,\naccommodate himself to their mode of dress. He also, being a widower,\ntook as a companion Molly Brant, (a sister of Brant,) who considered\nherself his wife, according to Indian custom, and whom he finally\nmarried, to legitimize her children. He had received honors and\nemoluments from the British Government; and the Indians, through him,\nobtained every thing conducive to their happiness. Hence, it is not\nstrange that they should hold in reverence the name of their \"great\nfather,\" the king; and think the few rebels who opposed his authority,\nwhen the Revolution began, to be inexcusable and unworthy of mercy.\n\nBrant, by this time a man in the first flush of his strength, and with\nas good an education as the majority of his white friends, went to\nEngland in 1775, in the beginning of the great Revolutionary rupture,\nwhere he was received with attention. Doubtless his mind was there\nprepared for the part he acted in the memorable struggle which ensued.\nHe had a Colonel's commission conferred upon him in the English army\nupon the frontiers; which army consisted of such tories and Indians as\ntook part against the country.\n\nUpon his return from England\u2014Sir William Johnson having died the\nprevious year\u2014Brant attached himself to Johnson's son-in-law, Guy\nJohnson, performing the part of secretary to him when transacting\nbusiness with the Indians. The Butlers, John and Walter\u2014whose names,\nwith those of Brant, are associated with the horrid barbarities of\nWyoming and Cherry Valley\u2014lived not far from the village of Johnstown,\nand upon the same side of the Mohawk.\n\nAfter the battle of Bunker Hill, General Schuyler compelled Guy Johnson,\nand his brother-in-law, Sir John Johnson, to give their word of honor\nnot to take up arms against America; but this did not prevent Guy from\nwithdrawing into Canada and taking with him Brant, with a large body of\nhis Mohawks. Sir John also fled to Canada, where he became a powerful\nadversary. The Butlers were also in the train.\n\nHere, having had some disagreement with Johnson, Brant returned to the\nfrontiers with his band of warriors. Some of the peaceable Mohawks had\nbeen confined to prevent their doing injury, as were some of the\nMassachusetts Indians in King Philip's war. Brant was displeased at\nthis. He came with his band to Unadilla, where he was met by the\nAmerican General, Herkimer; and the two had an interview, in which Brant\nsaid that \"the king's belts were yet lodged with them, and they could\nnot falsify their pledge; that the Indians were in concert with the\nking,\" etc. It has never been explained why Herkimer did not then and\nthere destroy the power of Brant, which he could have done, for his men\nnumbered eight hundred and eighty, while Brant had but one hundred and\nthirty warriors. It is supposed the American General did not believe\nthat the Mohawks actually would take up arms against the country. It was\na fatal mistake, which deluged hundreds of homes in blood, or wrapped\nthem in fire.\n\nThereafter followed a succession of bloody and terrible affairs, in\nwhich Brant and the two Butlers were leaders. It has been said, and with\ntruth, that of those three, the white men were the most ferocious; that\nthey out-Heroded Herod; that Brant often spared where they refused. Out\nof these isolated facts it is sought to build up a reputation for\ngenerosity and magnanimity, to which Brant is not entitled. Some moments\nof mercy he had; while those arch fiends, the Butlers, never relaxed\ninto the weakness of mercy; but the name of Brant, nevertheless, is\nwritten too redly in the blood of our ancestors for us ever to regard\nhim with other feelings than those of horror and dread. His knowledge of\nthe detestation in which the whites regarded the Indian modes of\nwarfare, acted upon his pride; he did not wish to be classed with the\n_untutored_ of his own race; so that his regard for appearances caused\nhim frequently to forbear the cruelties which his associates practiced.\n\nThe first affair of importance in which we hear of him is the battle of\nOriskany. It was on the 6th of August, 1777. Brant was under the\ndirection of General St. Leger, who detached him, with a considerable\nbody of warriors, for the investment of Fort Stanwix. Colonel Butler was\ncommander-in-chief of the expedition, with a band of tories under his\nimmediate charge. The inhabitants in the valley of the Mohawk determined\nto march to the assistance of the fort, which they did in two regiments,\nwith General Herkimer at their head. As is usual with militia, they\nmarched in great disorder, and through the inadvertence of General\nHerkimer\u2014who, influenced by sneers at his _cowardice_ in taking such a\nprecaution, failed to throw forward scouts as he should have done\u2014were\nsurprised by the Indians as they were crossing an almost impassable\nravine, upon a single track of logs. The ambush selected by Brant could\nnot have been better fitted for his purpose. The ravine was\nsemicircular, and Brant and his forces occupied the surrounding heights.\n\nThe first intimation of the presence of the enemy was the terrifying\nyells of the Indians, and the still more lasting impressions of their\nrifles. Running down from every direction, they prevented the two\nregiments from forming a junction\u2014one of them not having entered the\ncauseway. A part of the assailants fell upon those without, a part upon\nthose within. The former fared worse than the latter; for, in such a\ncase a flight almost always proves a dismal defeat, as was now the case.\nThe other regiment, hemmed in as it was, saw that\n\n \"To fight, or not to fight, was death.\"\n\nThey therefore, back to back, forming a front in every direction, fought\nlike men in despair. With such bravery did they resist, in this forlorn\ncondition, that the Indians began to give way, and but for a\nreinforcement of tories, they would have been entirely dispersed. The\nsight of this reinforcement increased the rage of the Americans. The\ntory regiment was composed of the very men who had left that part of the\ncountry at the beginning of the war, and were held in abhorrence for\ntheir loyalty to the king. Dr. Gordon says that the tories and Indians\ngot into a most wretched confusion, and fought one another; and that the\nlatter, at last, thought it was a plot of the whites to get them into\nthat situation, that they might be cut off. General Herkimer got forward\nan express to the fort, when he was reinforced as soon as possible, and\nthe remnant of his brave band saved. He beat the enemy from the ground,\nand carried considerable plunder to the fort; but two hundred Americans\nwere lost, and among them the General himself, who died, soon after,\nfrom the effects of a wound received at the time.\n\nIn the early part of the contest, General Herkimer had been struck by a\nball, which shattered his leg and killed his horse. Undaunted by this\naccident, and indifferent to the severity of the pain, the brave old\nGeneral continued on his saddle, which was placed on a little hillock,\nnear a tree, against which he leaned for support, while giving his\norders with the utmost coolness, though his men fell in scores about\nhim, and his exposed position made him a mark for the enemy. Amid the\nclashing of weapons, the roar of artillery, and the yells of the\ncombatants, all mingled in wild confusion, General Herkimer deliberately\ntook his pipe from his pocket, lit it, and smoked with seeming\ncomposure. On being advised to remove to a place of greater security, he\nsaid, \"_No; I will face the enemy_.\" It is said that Blucher, at the\nbattle of Leipsic, sat on a hillock, smoking, and issuing his orders;\nbut Blucher was not wounded.\n\nGeneral Herkimer's leg was amputated after the battle, but it was done\nso unskillfully that the flow of blood could not be stopped. During the\noperation he smoked and chatted in excellent spirits; and when his\ndeparture drew nigh, he called for a Bible, and read aloud, until his\nfailing strength compelled him to desist. Such is the stuff of which\nheroes are made.\n\nThe night which followed the battle was one of horror for the prisoners\ntaken by the enemy. As usual, the Indians slaked their thirst for blood\nand torture, which the battle had awakened, in pitiless cruelties upon\ntheir defenseless captives. It does not seem that Brant here exercised,\nor caused to be exercised, any clemency. Some of the doomed creatures\nbegged of Butler, the British officer, to use his influence with the\nIndians; and to their appeals were joined the entreaties of the\nguard\u2014the tories, in whose breasts some humanity remained; but this\nfiend, more savage than the savages, only cursed them for their folly in\npleading for \"infernal rebels.\" All manner of tortures, including\nroasting, was practiced upon the captives, as was testified to by one of\ntheir number, Dr. Younglove, who, after enduring every thing but death,\nfinally escaped from his tormentors.\n\nIn June of the next year, 1778, Brant came upon Springfield, which he\nburned, and carried off a number of prisoners. The women and children\nwere not maltreated, but were left in one house unmolested. About this\ntime great efforts were made to secure the wary chief, but none of them\nwere successful.\n\nThe next event of importance in which Brant was engaged was the\ndestruction of Wyoming, that most heart-rending affair in all the annals\nof the Revolutionary war. The events of that awful massacre, the\ntreachery of Butler, the ferocity of the savages, and the still more\nhellish malignity of their white allies, are known to all. The wail\nwhich then arose from innocent women and helpless babes, consumed in one\nfuneral pyre, together, will never die\u2014its echoes yet ring upon the\nshuddering senses of each successive generation. Of late years an effort\nhas been made to prove that Brant was not even present at that massacre;\nbut of this there is no _proof_. Campbell, the author of \"Gertrude of\nWyoming,\" was so worked upon by the representations of a son of Brant,\nwho visited England in 1822, that he recalled all he said of\n\n \"The foe\u2014the monster Brant,\"\n\nand wished him, thereafter, to be regarded as a \"purely fictitious\ncharacter.\"\n\nOne thing is certain. Brant _was_ at the massacre of Cherry Valley,\nwhich settlement, in the November following the destruction of Wyoming,\nmet a fate nearly similar. At this terrible affair was repeated the\natrocities of the former. A tory boasted that he killed a Mr. Wells\nwhile at prayer. His daughter, a beautiful and estimable young lady,\nfled from the house to a pile of wood for shelter, but an Indian pursued\nher; and composedly wiping his bloody knife on his leggin, seized her,\nand while she was begging for her life in the few words of Indian which\nshe knew, he ruthlessly killed her. But why speak of one, where hundreds\nmet a similar fate? It is said that Brant, on this occasion, did\nexercise clemency; and that he was the only one who did. It was shortly\nafter this that Sullivan's army was organized to march upon the Indian\ncountry and put a stop to such outrages. Brant met it and was repulsed\nand fled. It has been made a matter of complaint that our forces\ndestroyed the Indian villages and crops. But with such wrongs burning in\ntheir breasts, who could ask of them the practice of extraordinary\ngenerosity toward monsters who would not respect nor return it? The same\ncomplaint is made to-day against the exasperated Minnesotians, who claim\nthe fullest vengeance of the law against the stealthy panthers, and\nworse than wild beasts, who have recently ravaged their State. They ask\nit, and _should have it_.\n\nIn the spring of 1780, Brant renewed his warfare against our\nsettlements. He seems, in almost all cases, to have been successful,\nuniting, as he did, the means of civilized warfare with all the art and\nduplicity of the savage.\n\nIn later years Colonel Brant exerted himself to preserve peace between\nthe whites and Indians; and during the important treaties which were\nmade in 1793 he was in favor of settling matters amicably. He had won\nfrom the British Government all the honors it was willing to bestow upon\na _savage_ ally, and what were they? A Colonel's commission, with\nliberty to do work for the king which British soldiers did not care to\ndo\u2014the slaughter of women and children, and the sacking of villages. It\nis quite probable that, after Wayne's decisive castigation of the\nIndians, and British insolence had thereby also received a blow, Brant\nretired from a service which he knew must be worse than fruitless.\n\nColonel Brant was married, in the winter of 1779, to the daughter of\nColonel Croghan by an Indian woman. He had lived with her some time,\naccording to the Indian manner; but being present at the wedding of Miss\nMoore, (one of the Cherry Valley captives,) he took a fancy to have the\n\"civilized\" ceremony performed between himself and his partner. King\nGeorge III. conferred valuable lands upon him, and he became quite\nwealthy. He owned, at one time, thirty or forty negroes, to whom he was\na most brutal master. Brant professed to be a great admirer of Greek,\nand intended to study that language so as to be able to make an original\ntranslation of the New Testament into Mohawk.\n\nHe died in November, 1807, and was said to have been sixty-five years\nold at the time of his death. He left several children, some of whose\ndescendants are wealthy and respectable people. His wife, at his death,\nreturned to her wild Indian life.\n\n\n\n\n MRS. AUSTIN AND THE BEAR.\n\n\nOne of the great and almost insurmountable difficulties attendant upon\nthe settlement of a new country, is that of rearing farm stock, and\npreserving it from the attacks of wild beasts. The experience of the\npioneers of civilization in the valley of the Ohio, on this point,\ntaught them that, until the country became more fully settled, and the\nincrease of inhabitants so great as to drive back the denizens of the\nforest to more distant lairs, they must depend upon their rifles alone\nfor a supply of animal food for the table. On the principle of\nrecompense, perhaps, it was not so hard as it might otherwise seem, for\nwhen pork and beef were scarce, \"b'ar meat\" was plenty\u2014and _vice versa_.\nBut then, it was hard when one took a notion to raise a pig or two to\nfurnish his table in time of need, to find it missing some bright\nmorning, and know that all that pork had gone to fill the greedy stomach\nof a bear or \"painter.\" Many and frequent were the encounters at the sty\nbetween the settler and his dusky neighbor, the bear, in which the\ncontest for the possession of the pork was maintained with vigor and\ndetermination on the one side, and on the other with a hungry energy,\nwhich was deserving of commendation, if not of success.\n\nExcept when he could accomplish his object by stealth, however, bruin\nseldom came off the victor. The first note of alarm was sufficient to\ncall from his pallet the watchful hunter, and the deadly rifle generally\nsent the intruder off a cripple, or stretched his carcass on the\ngreensward, a trophy to the skill of his opponent. The women, too, were\nnot backward in defense of their porcine friends when necessity called\nfor exertion on their part to save them from destruction, as is\nevidenced by several anecdotes of their intrepidity on such occasions.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n Mrs. Austin and the Bear\u2014_Page_ 51.\n]\n\nA Mrs. John Austin, of Geneva Township, one day while her husband was\nabsent from home, was alarmed by the sound of an unusual commotion among\nher pigs, and looking in the direction of the sty, which stood just back\nof the cabin, she beheld a bear just in the act of climbing over the\ninclosure among a group of three or four promising shotes, which she\nfondly hoped would one day fill the pork barrel and serve to supply her\ntable with animal food during the long dreary months of the next winter.\nFor a period of many weeks had she nursed, watched and fed them, in\nanticipation of their future usefulness, and she could not bear the\nthought of parting with them. But how to save them?\u2014that was the\nquestion. There was no one near to aid in their salvation, and she must\ndepend upon herself, or lose her pork. The danger was imminent, and\ndecisive action necessary. Her mind was soon made up; she'd save her\npigs or perish in the attempt. Calling her children, she sent them up\ninto the loft and took away the ladder, that they might be safe in case\nshe was unsuccessful or should be overcome by the bear. Taking down her\nhusband's rifle, which hung on its pegs behind the door of the cabin,\nshe carefully examined it to see if it was loaded, but in her haste\noverlooked the _priming_. The increasing confusion in the sty warned her\nthat delays were dangerous, and she sallied forth to encounter bruin,\nwho was already on his way to the forest with one of the pigs in his\narms. The latter was giving vent to his fears in the most piercing and\npitiful tones, while his captor, intent only on securing his prize, was\nmarching off at a rapid pace on his hind feet, holding the pig as a\nmother holds her babe, and indifferent alike to his struggles and his\npathetic appeals for mercy and relief. A momentary tremor seized upon\nthe frame of the heroine, and the blood ran chill through her heart, as\nher gaze revealed the figure of a bear of the largest size\u2014an antagonist\nwhom many a stalwart hunter would have hesitated before attacking. No\ntime was given her, however, to deliberate, for the bear had discovered\nher approach almost as soon as she turned the corner of the cabin.\nDropping his burden, he turned to face his enemy, and presented a front\nwhich might have appalled a much stouter heart than that of our heroine;\nwhile the pig\u2014language fails me in the attempt to describe the emotions\nwhich filled the breast of that now overjoyed pig, as he took his way\nwith hasty strides to his former quarters, and snuggled down by the side\nof his companions, with many a grunt of satisfaction at his escape from\nthe jaws of impending death. I leave it to the imagination of my reader,\nwith the aid of the illustration, to supply a deficiency which my pen is\nutterly incapable of doing.\n\nStanding thus at bay, in an attitude which threatened an attack on his\npart, the bear awaited the coming of his adversary. Fortunately, between\nher and him there was a Virginia worm fence, which formed a sort of\nbreastwork, and offered a very eligible rest for her rifle. Resting her\nweapon upon the upper rail of the fence, she kneeled upon one knee, and\ntook deliberate aim at the heart of her savage enemy. For the space of a\nminute the two remained in this position, until, assured of her aim,\nMrs. Austin pulled the trigger. To her horror and dismay, the steel\nemitted sparks, but no report followed. The trusty rifle had missed\nfire. How shall I describe the feelings which heaved her bosom, as her\neye glanced along the barrel until it rested upon the dark form of the\nbear, fearing lest he should spring upon her and tear her limb from\nlimb. Her own life, and the lives of her children rested upon the\nsuccess of her shot, and should he change his position so as to present\na less vulnerable part to her aim, she felt that her hope was void and\nher fate certain. The animal still remained in the same position,\nhowever, and with as little movement as possible, she drew back the\nhammer, and again aimed full at his breast. Again the piece missed fire,\nand her heart sunk within her as she saw the bear move, as though he\ndisliked his ambiguous position, and desired to change it. Not daring to\nlower her piece to examine it, and hoping that the third attempt might\nbe more effectual, she again essayed to discharge it; but when, for the\nthird time it failed to explode, she felt a sensation of horror creep\nover her which seemed to curdle the life-blood in her veins, and her\nlimbs seemed palsied with terror as the bear\u2014who had by this time become\ndisgusted with the idea of being made a target of\u2014and that, too, by a\nwoman\u2014dropped upon all fours, and as she thought, prepared to spring\nupon her. Satisfied, however, with his own exhibition of prowess\u2014or,\nperhaps, fearful of attacking one who had shown herself so brave, he\nturned on his heels, and started off on a sidelong trot for the woods,\nthe deep recesses of which soon hid him from sight.\n\nPerhaps it was fortunate for Mrs. Austin that her rifle failed to\nexplode. Had she wounded the animal instead of killing him, or failed to\nhit a vital part, no power on earth could have saved her from his savage\nvengeance. A wounded bear is one of the most terrific beasts to\nencounter, and the hunter will seldom attack one of these dusky denizens\nof the forest unless he has other arms to depend upon, should his rifle\nfail to strike the seat of life. She did not stop to consider the\nsubject, however, but hastening back to her cabin, she threw herself\nupon the floor, and gave vent to her overwrought feelings in a flood of\ntears. The excitement which had gradually wrought her up to a fearful\npitch of feeling was gone, and the revulsion was so great as to\ncompletely unnerve her. She soon rallied again, and her first act, on\nbecoming more calm, was to offer thanks to that Providence which had\nwatched over and protected her in her hour of need.\n\nOne of the most terrible bear-fights on record, which throws the\nexploits of Davy Crockett, and even of \"old Grizzly Adams\" into the\nshade, was that which took place some thirty years ago, between a man by\nthe name of John Minter, and one of the largest and most ferocious of\nthe species of black bears. Captain Minter was one of the settlers of\nOhio, and, in his youth, had been a great hunter, spending most of his\ntime in the woods in pursuit of game; and such was his proficiency with\nthe rifle, that he seldom failed to bring down the fleetest-winged\ndenizen of the air, or the swiftest-footed deer. His last hunt, however,\nwas the crowning glory of his exploits, brilliant enough to satisfy his\nambition, and induce him to \"retire upon his dignity;\" in fact, his\npassion for hunting was suddenly changed to disgust, and he gave up the\nrifle for the plow.\n\nHe had been out one day, as usual, with his rifle, in pursuit of a flock\nof turkeys, but had been unsuccessful, and was returning home in a surly\nmood, when he came, rather unexpectedly, upon a large black bear, who\nseemed disposed to dispute his passage. Quick as thought his piece was\nat his shoulder, and the bullet whizzed through the air, striking the\nbear full in the breast, and he fell to the ground\u2014as Minter\nsupposed\u2014dead. Carefully reloading his rifle, not to throw away a\nchance, he approached the bear, and poked his nose with the muzzle, to\nsee if any spark of life remained. Bruin was only \"playing 'possum\" as\nit seems, for with far more agility than could be anticipated of a beast\nwho had a rifle-ball through his body, he reared upon his hind-feet and\nmade at the hunter. Minter fired again, but in his haste and\ntrepidation, arising from the sudden and unexpected attack, he failed to\nhit a vital part, and a second wound only served to make the brute more\nsavage and desperate. Drawing his tomahawk, he threw that; and as the\nbear dodged it and sprung upon him, he clubbed his rifle and struck him\na violent blow across the head with the butt, which resulted in\nshivering the stock, and, if possible, increasing his rage. Springing\nback to avoid the sweep of his terrible claws, Minter drew his long,\nkeen hunting-knife, and prepared for the fatal encounter which he knew\nmust ensue. For a moment the combatants stood gazing at each other, like\ntwo experienced duelists, measuring each the other's strength. Minter\nwas a man of powerful frame, and possessed of extraordinary muscular\ndevelopment, which, with his quick eye and ready hand, made him a very\nathletic and dangerous enemy. He stood six feet high, and was\nbeautifully proportioned. The bear was a male of the largest size, and,\nrendered desperate by his wounds, which were bleeding profusely, was a\nfearful adversary to encounter under any circumstances; more\nparticularly so to Minter, who now had simply his knife to depend upon,\nto decide the contest between them. As Bruin advanced to seize him, he\nmade a powerful blow at his heart, which, had it taken effect, would\nhave settled the matter at once; but the other was too quick for him,\nand with a sweep of his tremendous paw, parried the blow, and sent the\nweapon whirling through the air to a distance of twenty feet; the next\ninstant the stalwart hunter was enfolded in the embrace of those fearful\npaws, and both were rolling on the ground in a death-like grapple.\n\nThe woods were open, and free from underbrush to a considerable extent,\nand in their struggles they rolled about in every direction. The object\nof the bear was, of course, to hug his adversary to death, which the\nother endeavored to avoid by presenting his body in such a position as\nwould best resist the vice-like squeeze, until he could loosen his\ngrasp; to accomplish which, he seized the bear by the throat with both\nhands, and exerted all his energy and muscular power to throttle him.\nThis had the twofold effect of preventing him from using his teeth, and\ncompelling him to release the hug, to knock off the other's hands with\nhis paws; thus affording Minter an opportunity to catch his breath, and\nchange his position. Several times he thought he should be crushed under\nthe immense pressure to which he was subjected; but was buoyed up with\nthe hope of reaching his knife, which lay within sight, and toward which\nhe endeavored to fall every time they came to the ground. With the hot\nbreath of the ferocious brute steaming in his face, and the blood from\nhis own wounds mingling with that of the bear, and running to his heels,\nhis flesh terribly cut up and lacerated by his claws, he still continued\nto maintain the struggle against the fearful odds, until he was enabled\nto reach the weapon, which he grasped with joy, and clung to with the\ntenacity of a death-grip. With his little remaining strength, and at\nevery opportunity between the tremendous hugs, he plied the knife until\nthe bear showed evident signs of weakness, and finally bled to death\nfrom the numerous wounds from whence flowed, in copious streams, his\nwarm life's blood, staining the leaves and greensward of a crimson hue.\n\nReleasing himself from the embrace of the now inanimate brute, Minter\ncrawled to a decaying stump, against which he leaned, and surveyed the\nscene. His heart sickened as he contemplated his own person. He had gone\ninto the battle with a stout, heavy hunting-shirt, and underclothing;\nwith buckskin leggins and moccasins; and had come out of it with\nscarcely a rag upon him, except the belt around his waist, which still\nheld a few strips of tattered cloth, and a moccasin on one foot. His\nbody, from his neck to his heels, was covered with great gaping wounds,\nmany of which penetrated to the bone, and the blood was flowing in\ntorrents to the ground, covering him with gore from head to foot. For a\nspace of more than half an acre, the ground was torn up, and had the\nappearance of a butcher's shambles.\n\nAs soon as he had recovered his breath, he commenced to crawl toward his\nhome, where he arrived after nightfall, looking more like a slaughtered\nbeef than a human being. His wounds were dressed by his family and\nfriends, and after being confined to his bed for many weeks, thanks to\nhis healthy, rugged constitution, he entirely recovered; but he bore to\nthe grave the marks of his terrible contest, in numerous cicatrices and\nwelts which covered his back, arms and legs, where the bear's claws had\nleft ineffaceable marks of his strength and ferocity.\n\nSpeaking of Davy Crockett, reminds us that there was one of his\nadventures which deserves to be classed with the \"highly exciting\"\nexperiences of which Captain Minter's was so good in its way. It was\nduring the Colonel's travels through Texas; he had left his party, to\ngive chase to a drove of mustangs over a prairie; he had pursued them to\nthe banks of the Navasola river, where they had plunged into the stream,\nand where his own tough little animal had fallen to the ground,\napparently in a state of exhaustion. But we must give Colonel Crockett's\nstory in his own words, unless we wish to rob it of its peculiar grace.\nHe says:\n\n\"After toiling for more than an hour to get my mustang upon his feet\nagain, I gave it up as a bad job, as little Van did when he attempted to\nraise himself to the moon by the waistband of his breeches. Night was\nfast closing in, and as I began to think that I had just about sport\nenough for one day, I might as well look around for a place of shelter\nfor the night, and take a fresh start in the morning, by which time I\nwas in hopes my horse would be recruited. Near the margin of the river a\nlarge tree had been blown down, and I thought of making my lair in its\ntop, and approached it for that purpose. While beating among the\nbranches I heard a low growl, as much as to say, 'Stranger, the\napartments are already taken.' Looking about to see what sort of a\nbedfellow I was likely to have, I discovered, not more than five or six\npaces from me, an enormous Mexican cougar, eyeing me as an epicure\nsurveys the table before he selects his dish, for I have no doubt the\ncougar looked upon me as the subject of a future supper. Rays of light\ndarted from his large eyes, he showed his teeth like a negro in\nhysterics, and he was crouching on his haunches ready for a spring; all\nof which convinced me that unless I was pretty quick upon the trigger,\nposterity would know little of the termination of my eventful career,\nand it would be far less glorious and useful than I intend to make it.\n\n\"One glance satisfied me that there was no time to be lost, as Pat\nthought when falling from a church steeple, and exclaimed, 'This would\nbe mighty pleasant now, if it would only last,' but there was no retreat\neither for me or the cougar, so I leveled my Betsy and blazed away. The\nreport was followed by a furious growl, (which is sometimes the case in\nCongress,) and the next moment, when I expected to find the tarnal\ncritter struggling with death, I beheld him shaking his head as if\nnothing more than a bee had stung him. The ball had struck him on the\nforehead and glanced off, doing no other injury than stunning him for an\ninstant, and tearing off the skin, which tended to infuriate him the\nmore. The cougar wasn't long in making up his mind what to do, nor was I\nneither; but he would have it all his own way, and vetoed my motion to\nback out. I had not retreated three steps before he sprung at me like a\nsteamboat; I stepped aside, and as he lit upon the ground, I struck him\nviolently with the barrel of my rifle, but he didn't mind that, but\nwheeled around and made at me again. The gun was now of no use, so I\nthrew it away, and drew my hunting knife, for I knew we should come to\nclose quarters before the fight would be over. This time he succeeded in\nfastening on my left arm, and was just beginning to amuse himself by\ntearing the flesh off with his fangs, when I ripped my knife into his\nside, and he let go his hold, much to my satisfaction.\n\n\"He wheeled about and came at me with increased fury, occasioned by the\nsmarting of his wounds. I now tried to blind him, knowing that if I\nsucceeded he would become an easy prey; so as he approached me I watched\nmy opportunity, and aimed a blow at his eyes with my knife, but\nunfortunately it struck him on the nose, and he paid no other attention\nto it than by a shake of the head and a low growl. He pressed me close,\nand as I was stepping backward my foot tripped in a vine, and I fell to\nthe ground. He was down upon me like a nighthawk upon a June bug. He\nseized hold of the outer part of my right thigh, which afforded him\nconsiderable amusement; the hinder part of his body was toward my face;\nI grasped his tail with my left hand, and tickled his ribs with my\nhunting-knife, which I held in my right. Still the critter wouldn't let\ngo his hold; and as I found that he would lacerate my leg dreadfully,\nunless he was speedily shaken off, I tried to hurl him down the bank\ninto the river, for our scuffle had already brought us to the edge of\nthe bank. I stuck my knife into his side, and summoned all my strength\nto throw him over. He resisted, was desperate heavy; but at last I got\nhim so far down the declivity that he lost his balance, and he rolled\nover and over till he landed on the margin of the river; but in his fall\nhe dragged me along with him. Fortunately, I fell uppermost, and his\nneck presented a fair mark for my hunting knife. Without allowing myself\ntime even to draw breath, I aimed one desperate blow at his neck, and\nthe knife entered his gullet up to the handle, and reached his heart. I\nhave had many fights with bears, but that was mere child's play; this\nwas the first fight ever I had with a cougar, and I hope it may be the\nlast.\n\n\"I now returned to the tree-top to see if any one else would dispute my\nlodging; but now I could take peaceable and quiet possession. I parted\nsome of the branches, and cut away others to make a bed in the opening;\nI then gathered a quantity of moss, which hung in festoons from the\ntrees, which I spread on the litter, and over this I spread my\nhorse-blanket; and I had as comfortable a bed as a weary man need ask\nfor. I now took another look at my mustang, and from all appearances, he\nwould not live until morning. I ate some of the cakes that little Kate\nof Nacogdoches had made for me, and then carried my saddle into my\ntree-top, and threw myself down upon my bed with no very pleasant\nreflections at the prospect before me.\n\n\"I was weary, and soon fell asleep, and did not awake until daybreak the\nnext day. I felt somewhat stiff and sore from the wounds I had received\nin the conflict with the cougar; but I considered myself as having made\na lucky escape. I looked over the bank, and as I saw the carcass of the\ncougar lying there, I thought that it was an even chance that we had not\nexchanged conditions; and I felt grateful that the fight had ended as it\ndid. I now went to look after my mustang, fully expecting to find him as\ndead as the cougar; but what was my astonishment to find that he had\ndisappeared without leaving trace of hair or hide of him! I first\nsupposed that some beasts of prey had consumed the poor critter; but\nthen they wouldn't have eaten his bones, and he had vanished as\neffectually as the deposits, without leaving any mark of the course they\nhad taken. This bothered me amazing; I couldn't figure it out by any\nrule that I had ever heard of, so I concluded to think no more about it.\n\n\"I felt a craving for something to eat, and looking around for some\ngame, I saw a flock of geese on the shore of the river. I shot a fine,\nfat gander, and soon stripped him of his feathers; and gathering some\nlight wood, I kindled a fire, run a long stick through my goose for a\nspit, and put it down to roast, supported by two sticks with prongs. I\nhad a desire for some coffee; and having a tin cup with me, I poured the\npaper of ground coffee that I had received from the bee-hunter into it,\nand made a strong cup, which was very refreshing. Off of my goose and\nbiscuit I made a hearty meal, and was preparing to depart without\nclearing up the breakfast things, or knowing which direction to pursue,\nwhen I was somewhat taken aback by another of the wild scenes of the\nWest. I heard a sound like the trampling of many horses, and I thought\nto be sure the mustangs or buffaloes were coming upon me again; but on\nraising my head, I beheld in the distance about fifty mounted Comanches,\nwith their spears glittering in the morning sun, dashing toward the spot\nwhere I stood at full speed. As the column advanced, it divided,\naccording to their usual practice, into two semicircles, and in an\ninstant I was surrounded. Quicker than thought I sprung to my rifle, but\nas my hand grasped it, I felt that resistance against so many would be\nof as little use as pumping for thunder in dry weather.\n\n\"The chief was for making love to my beautiful Betsy, but I clung fast\nto her, and assuming an air of composure, I demanded whether their\nnation was at war with the Americans. 'No,' was the reply. 'Do you like\nthe Americans?' 'Yes; they are our friends.' 'Where do you get your\nspear-heads, your rifles, your blankets, and your knives from?' 'Get\nthem from our friends, the Americans.' 'Well, do you think, if you were\npassing through their nation, as I am passing through yours, they would\nattempt to rob you of your property?' 'No, they would feed me, and\nprotect me; and the Comanche will do the same by his white brother.'\n\n\"I now asked him what it was had directed him to the spot where I was,\nand he told me that they had seen the smoke from a great distance, and\nhad come to see the cause of it. He inquired what had brought me there\nalone; and I told him that I had come to hunt, and that my mustang had\nbecome exhausted and though I thought he was about to die, that he had\nescaped from me; at which the chief gave a low, chuckling laugh, and\nsaid it was all a trick of the mustang, which is the most wily and\ncunning of all animals. But he said, that as I was a brave hunter, he\nwould furnish me with another; he gave orders, and a fine young horse\nwas immediately brought forward.\n\n\"When the party approached there were three old squaws at their head,\nwho made a noise with their mouths, and served as trumpeters.\n\n\"I now told the chief that, as I now had a horse, I would go for my\nsaddle, which was in the place where I had slept. As I approached the\nspot, I discovered one of the squaws devouring the remains of my roasted\ngoose, but my saddle and bridle were nowhere to be found. Almost in\ndespair of seeing them again, I observed, in a thicket at a little\ndistance, one of the trumpeters kicking and belaboring her horse to make\nhim move off, while the sagacious beast would not move a step from the\ntroop. I followed her, and thanks to her restive mustang, secured my\nproperty, which the chief made her restore to me. Some of the warriors\nhad by this time discovered the body of the cougar, and had already\ncommenced skinning it; and seeing how many stabs were about it, I\nrelated to the chief the desperate struggle I had had; he said, 'Brave\nhunter, brave man,' and wished me to be adopted into his tribe, but I\nrespectfully declined the honor. He then offered to see me on my way;\nand I asked him to accompany me to the Colorado river, if he was going\nin that direction, which he agreed to do. I put my saddle on my fresh\nhorse, mounted, and we darted off, at a rate not much slower than I had\nrode the day previous with the wild herd, the old squaws at the head of\nthe troop braying like young jackasses the whole way.\"\n\nThe more we study the history of frontier life, the more we are\nsurprised at the characters of such men as Simon Kenton in one way and\nDavid Crockett in another. It would seem as if they were made to command\nthe circumstances in which they were placed\u2014indigenous to the soil in\nwhich they grew\u2014with traits which sprung up to meet every emergency of\ntheir times and places. They were of a new race, the like of which no\nother sun nor age had looked upon\u2014Americans, indeed, in the broadest\nsense\u2014men sent to prepare the soil of civilization for the rich fruit\nand flowers which already cover the furrows turned by their brave and\nvigorous arms.\n\nDavid Crockett's grandparents were murdered by Indians; and he was born\nand reared in the midst of those privations which helped to make him\nwhat he was. It is quite delightful, in reading his \"life\" to see with\nwhat ease and _nonchalance_ he dispatches a few bears in the course of a\nday, or does any other work which is thrown in his way. As in the\nspecimen we have quoted, he conquers his cougar, and ingratiates himself\nwith a roving band of Comanches, and \"does up\" enough adventures in a\nchapter to satisfy any ordinary man, if stretched through a long\nlifetime. Let us treasure up the records of \"Davy Crockett,\" for we\nshall never have another like him.\n\nTo show the perfect isolation in which some of the pioneers lived, and\nthe manner of their lives, we will give an anecdote of a Mr. Muldrow,\none of the settlers of Kentucky, whose name is still attached to a range\nof savage precipices in the central part of the State, called Muldrow's\nhill. The individual referred to settled here at a time when there was\nnot a single white man but himself in this vicinity, and here he had\nresided for a year with his wife, without having seen the face of any\nother human being. Perhaps, as it was his choice to reside in a\nwilderness, isolated from his own species, he might have thought it\nprudent to conceal his place of abode from the Indians, by erecting his\ncabin in an inhospitable waste, difficult of access, where there were no\npastures to invite the deer or buffalo, and no game to allure the savage\nhunter, and where his family remained secure, while he roved with his\ngun over some hunting-ground at a convenient distance.\n\nAfter passing a year in this mode of life, he was one day wandering\nthrough the woods in search of game, when he heard the barking of a dog,\nand supposing that an Indian was near, concealed himself. Presently a\nsmall dog came running along his track, with his nose to the ground, as\nif pursuing his footsteps, and had nearly reached his hiding-place, when\nit stopped, snuffed the air, and uttered a low whine, as if to admonish\nits master that the object of pursuit was near at hand. In a few minutes\nthe owner of the dog came stepping cautiously along, glancing his eyes\njealously around, and uttering low signals to the dog. But the dog stood\nat fault, and the owner halted within a few yards of our hunter and\nexposed to view.\n\nThe new-comer was a tall, athletic man, completely armed with rifle,\ntomahawk and knife; but whether he was a white man or an Indian, could\nnot be determined either by his complexion or dress. He wore a\nhunting-shirt and leggins, of dressed deer-skin, and a hat from which\nthe rim was entirely worn away, and the crown elongated into the shape\nof a sugar-loaf. The face, feet and hands, which were exposed, were of\nthe tawny hue of the savage; but whether the color was natural, or the\neffect of exposure, could not be ascertained even by the keen eye of the\nhunter; and the features were so disguised with dirt and gunpowder, that\ntheir expression afforded no clue by which the question could be decided\nwhether the person was a friend or foe. There was but a moment for\nscrutiny; the pioneer, inclining to the opinion that the stranger was an\nIndian, cautiously drew up his rifle, and took deliberate aim; but the\nbare possibility that he might be pointing his weapon at the bosom of a\ncountryman induced him to pause.\n\nAgain he raised his gun, and again hesitated; while his opponent, with\nhis rifle half-raised toward his face, and his finger on the trigger,\nlooked eagerly around. Both stood motionless and silent\u2014one searching\nfor the object of his pursuit, the other in readiness to fire. At length\nthe hunter, having resolved to delay no longer, cocked his rifle\u2014the\n_click_ reached the acute ear of the other, who instantly sprung behind\na tree; the hunter imitated his example, and they were now fairly\nopposed, each covered by a tree, from behind which he endeavored to get\na shot at his adversary without exposing his own person.\n\nAnd now a series of stratagems ensued, each seeking to draw the fire of\nthe other, until the stranger, becoming weary of suspense, called out:\n\n\"Why don't you shoot, you etarnal cowardly varmint?\"\n\n\"Shoot, yourself, you bloody red-skin!\" retorted the other.\n\n\"No more a red-skin than yourself!\"\n\n\"Are you a white man?\"\n\n\"To be sure I am. Are you?\"\n\n\"Yes; no mistake in me!\"\n\nWhereupon, each being undeceived, they threw down their guns, rushed\ntogether with open arms, and took a hearty hug. The hunter now learned\nthat the stranger had been settled, with his family, about ten miles\nfrom him, for several months past, and that each had frequently roamed\nover the same hunting-ground, supposing himself the sole inhabitant of\nthat region. On the following day the hunter saddled his horse, and\ntaking up his good wife behind him, carried her down to make a call upon\nher new neighbor, who doubtless received the visit with far more sincere\njoy than usually attends such ceremonies.\n\nThere is a well-accredited bear-story which belongs to the early history\nof Ohio, and which is of a little different type from most of the\nadventures with these ugly animals. An old pilot of the Ohio was once\nobliged to give a bruin a free ride\u2014but he could hardly blame the bear,\nafter stopping so kindly to take him in. But we must let him tell his\nown story. \"Twenty odd year ago,\" said the pilot, \"there warn't a great\nmany people along the Ohio, except Injins and b'ars, and we didn't like\nto cultivate a clust acquaintance with either of 'em; fer the Injins\nwere cheatin', scalpin' critters, and the bears had an onpleasant way\nwith them. Ohio warn't any great shakes then, but it had a mighty big\npile of the tallest kind of land layin' about, waitin' to be opened to\nthe sunlight. 'Arly one mornin' when my companions was asleep, I got up\nand paddled across the river after a deer, for we wanted venison for\nbreakfast. I got a buck and was returnin', when what should I see but a\nb'ar swimmin' the Ohio, and I put out in chase right off. I soon\noverhauled the critter and picked up my rifle to give him a settler, but\nthe primin' had got wet and the gun wouldn't go off. I didn't understand\nb'ar as well then as I do now, and I thought I'd run him down and drown\nhim or knock him in the head. So I put the canoe right eend on toward\nhim, thinkin' to run him under, but when the bow teched him, what did he\ndo but reach his great paws up over the side of the canoe and begin to\nclimb in. I hadn't bargained for that. I felt mighty onpleasant, you may\nbelieve, at the prospect of sech a passenger. I hadn't time to get at\nhim with the butt of my rifle, till he came tumbling into the dugout,\nand, as he seated himself on his starn, showed as pretty a set of ivory\nas you'd wish to see. Thar we sot, he in one end of the dugout, I in\nt'other, eyein' one another in a mighty suspicious sort of way. He\ndidn't seem inclined to come near my eend of the canoe, and I was\nprincipled agin goin' toward his. I made ready to take to the water, but\nat the same time made up my mind I'd paddle him to shore, free gratis\nfor nothin' if he'd behave hisself. Wal, I paddled away, the b'ar every\nnow and then grinnin' at me, skinnin' his face till every tooth in his\nhead stood right out, and grumblin' to hisself in a way that seemed to\nsay, 'I wonder if that chap's good to eat.' I didn't offer any opinion\non the subject; I didn't say a word to him, treatin' him all the time\nlike a gentleman, but kept pullin' for the shore. When the canoe touched\nground, he clambered over the side, climbed up the bank, and givin' me\nan extra grin, made off for the woods. I pushed the dugout back\nsuddenly, and give him, as I felt safe agin, a double war whoop, that\nastonished him. I learned one thing that morning\u2014never to try to _drown\na b'ar_\u2014'specially by running him down with a dugout\u2014it wont pay!\"\n\n[Illustration:\n\n Big Joe Logston's Encounter with an Indian\u2014_Page_ 7.\n]\n\n\n\n\n TALES,\n\n TRADITIONS AND ROMANCE\n\n OF\n\n BORDER AND REVOLUTIONARY TIMES.\n\n BIG JOE LOGSTON.\n DEBORAH, THE MAIDEN WARRIOR.\n GEN. MORGAN'S PRAYER.\n BRAVERY OF THE JOHNSON BOYS.\n\n NEW YORK:\n BEADLE AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS,\n 118 WILLIAM STREET.\n\n\n\n\n Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by\n BEADLE AND COMPANY,\n In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for\n the Southern District of New York.\n\n\n\n\n BIG JOE LOGSTON'S\n STRUGGLE WITH AN INDIAN.\n\n\nWe have plentiful stories of encounters between the white man and the\nred, in which the fierce rivalry is contested with rifles, knives, or\nthe swift foot-race for life; but it is seldom we hear of a genuine\n_fist-fight_ between the hardy men of the forest and their implacable\nfoe. Only two or three such novel incidents occur in the history of the\nWestern border.\n\nJoe Logston was one of the race of famous frontier men, the \"Hunters of\nKentucky,\" whose exploits have been told in story and sung in song. He\ncould, to use his own words, \"outrun, outhop, outjump, throw down, drag\nout and whip any man in the country\"\u2014which was saying a good deal for\nthose days, when men like Brady, Wetzel, M'Clelland, Adam Poe and Kenton\nsprung up to face the dangers of the hour.\n\nJoe was a powerful fellow of six foot three in his stockings, and\nproportionately stout and muscular, with a handsome, good-natured face,\nand a fist like a sledge-hammer. Fear was a word of which he knew not\nthe meaning, while to _fight_ was his pastime, particularly if his own\nscalp was the prize he fought for.\n\nOn one occasion he was mounted on his favorite pony, bound on an\nexpedition outside the fort. The pony was leisurely picking his way\nalong the trail, with his head down and half asleep, while his rider was\nenjoying a feast on some wild grapes which he had gathered as he passed\nalong. Neither dreamed of danger, until the crack of two rifles on\neither side the path killed the horse and wounded the rider. A ball\nstruck Joe, grazing the skin above the breast-bone, but without doing\nany material damage. The other ball passed through his horse, just\nbehind the saddle. In an instant Joe found himself on his feet, grasping\nhis trusty rifle, which he had instinctively seized as he slipped to the\nground, ready for the foe. He might easily have escaped by running, as\nthe guns of the Indians were empty, and they could not begin to compete\nwith him in speed. But Joe was not one of that sort. He boasted that he\nhad never left a battle-field without making his \"mark,\" and he was not\ndisposed to begin now. One of the savages sprung into the path and made\nat him, but finding his antagonist prepared, he \"treed\" again. Joe,\nknowing there were two of the varmints, looked earnestly about him for\nthe other, and soon discovered him between two saplings, engaged in\nreloading his piece. The trees were scarcely large enough to shield his\nperson, and in pushing down the ball, he exposed his hips, when Joe,\nquick as thought, drew a bead, and firing, struck him in the exposed\npart. Now that his rifle was empty, the big Indian who had first made\nhis appearance, rushed forward, feeling sure of his prey, and rejoicing\nin the anticipated possession of the white man's scalp. Joe was not\ngoing to resign this necessary and becoming covering to his head without\na struggle, and stood, calmly awaiting the savage, with his rifle\nclubbed and his feet braced for a powerful blow. Perceiving this, his\nfoe halted within ten paces, and with all the vengeful force of a\nvigorous arm, threw his tomahawk full at Joe's face. With the rapidity\nof lightning it whirled through the air; but Joe, equally quick in his\nmovements, dodged it, suffering only a slight cut on the left shoulder\nas it passed, when he \"went in.\"\n\nThe Indian darted into the bushes, successfully dodging the blows made\nat his head by the now enraged hunter, who, becoming excited to madness\nat the failure of his previous efforts, gathered all his strength for a\nfinal blow, which the cunning savage dodged as before, while the rifle,\nwhich by this time had become reduced to the simple barrel, struck a\ntree and flew out of Joe's hands at least ten feet into the bushes.\n\nThe Indian sprung to his feet and confronted him. Both empty-handed,\nthey stood for a moment, measuring each the other's strength; it was but\na moment, for the blood was flowing freely from the wound in Joe's\nbreast, and the other thinking him more seriously wounded than he really\nwas, and expecting to take advantage of his weakness, closed with him,\nintending to throw him. In this, however, he reckoned without his host.\nIn less time than it takes to recount it, he found himself at full\nlength on his back, with Joe on top. Slipping from under him with the\nagility of an eel they were both on their feet again\u2014and again closed.\nThis time the savage was more wary, but the same result followed\u2014he was\nagain beneath his opponent. But having the advantage of Joe, in being\nnaked to his breech-cloth, and _oiled_ from head to foot, he could\neasily slip from the grasp of the hunter and resume his perpendicular.\nSix different times was he thrown with the same effect; but\nvictory\u2014fickle jade\u2014seemed disposed to perch on the banner of neither of\nthe combatants. There were no admiring thousands looking on at this\nexciting \"mill\"\u2014no seconds to insist upon fairness and preserve the\nrules of the ring\u2014only one poor wounded spectator, and two foes fighting\nnot for fame but life.\n\nBy this time they had, in their struggles and contortions, returned to\nthe open path, and Joe resolved upon a change of tactics. He was\nbecoming sensibly weaker from loss of blood, while, on the other hand,\nthe savage seemed to lose none of his strength by the many falls he had\nexperienced. Closing again in a close hug, they fell as before; this\ntime, instead of endeavoring to keep his antagonist down, Joe sprung at\nonce to his feet, and, as his antagonist came up, dealt him a blow with\nhis fist between the eyes, which felled him like an ox, at the same time\nfalling with all his might upon his body.\n\nThis was repeated every time he rose, and began to tell with fearful\neffect upon the savage's body as well as his face, for Joe was no light\nweight, and at every succeeding fall the Indian came up weaker, seeming\nfinally disposed to retreat; this his opponent decidedly objected to;\nhis \"spunk was up;\" he dealt his blows more rapidly, until the savage\nlay apparently insensible at his feet. Falling upon him, he grasped the\nIndian's throat with a grip like a vice, intending to strangle him. He\nsoon found that the savage was \"playing possum,\" and that some movement\nwas going forward, the purport of which he could not immediately guess.\nFollowing with his eye the direction of the movement, Joe found that he\nwas trying to disengage his knife which was in his belt, but the handle\nof which was so short that it had slipped down beyond reach, and he was\nworking it up by pressing on the point. Joe watched the effort with deep\ninterest, and when it was worked up sufficient for his purpose, seized\nit, and with one powerful blow drove it to the owner's heart, leaving\nhim quivering in the agonies of death.\n\nSpringing to his feet the victor now bethought him of the other\nred-skin, and looked around to discover him. He still lay, with his back\nbroken by Joe's ball, where he had fallen, and, having his piece loaded,\nwas trying to raise himself upright to fire it; but every time he\nbrought it to his shoulder he would tumble forward and have again to\nrenew the effort. Concluding that he had had enough fighting for\nexercise, and knowing that the wounded Indian could not escape, Joe took\nhis way to the fort.\n\nAlthough he presented a frightful sight when he reached there\u2014his\nclothes being torn nearly from his person, which was covered with blood\nand dirt from his head to his feet\u2014yet his account was hardly believed\nby some of his comrades, who thought it one of Joe's \"big stories,\"\nwhich had the reputation of being as big as himself, though not half so\nwell authenticated. \"Go and satisfy yourselves,\" said he; and a party\nstarted for the battle-ground, where their suppositions were confirmed,\nas there were no Indians about, and no evidence of them, except Joe's\ndead horse in the path. On looking carefully about, however, they\ndiscovered a trail which led a little way into the bushes, where they\ndiscovered the body of the big Indian buried under the dead leaves by\nthe side of a stump. Following on, they found the corpse of the second,\nwith his own knife thrust into his heart and his grasp still upon it, to\nshow that he died by his own hand. Nowhere could they discover the knife\nwith which Joe had killed the big Indian. They found it at last, thrust\ninto the ground, where it had been forced by the heel of his wounded\ncompanion, who must have suffered the most intense agony while\nendeavoring to hide all traces of the white man's victory.\n\nJoe got the credit for his story, while his comrades universally\nlamented that they had not been spectators of this pugilistic encounter\nbetween \"big Indian\" and \"big Joe.\"\n\nAnother one of the forest scenes which stand out so vividly in pictures\nof American life, occurs to us. It is unique in its character, and will\nexcite a smile, as well as a feeling of admiration for the tact and\ncourage which enacted it.\n\nIn the early part of the Revolutionary war, a sargeant and twelve armed\nmen undertook a journey through the wilderness, in the State of New\nHampshire. Their route was remote from any settlements, and they were\nunder the necessity of encamping over night in the woods. Nothing\nmaterial happened the first day of their excursion; but early in the\nafternoon of the second, they, from an eminence, discovered a body of\narmed Indians advancing toward them, whose number rather exceeded their\nown. As soon as the whites were perceived by their red brethren, the\nlatter made signals, and the two parties approached each other in an\namicable manner. The Indians appeared to be much gratified with meeting\nthe sargeant and his men, whom they observed they considered as their\nprotectors; said they belonged to a tribe which had raised the hatchet\nwith zeal in the cause of liberty, and were determined to do all in\ntheir power to repel the common enemy. They shook hands in friendship,\nand it was, \"How d'ye do, _pro_, how d'ye do, pro,\" that being their\npronunciation of the word brother. When they had conversed with each\nother for some time, and exchanged mutual good wishes, they at length\nseparated, and each party traveled in a different direction. After\nproceeding to the distance of a mile or more, the sargeant, who was\nacquainted with all the different tribes, and knew on which side of the\ncontest they were respectively ranked, halted his men and addressed them\nin the following words:\n\n\"My brave companions, we must use the utmost caution, or this night may\nbe our last. Should we not make some extraordinary exertions to defend\nourselves, to-morrow's sun may find us sleeping never to wake. You are\nsurprised, comrades, at my words, and your anxiety will not be lessened,\nwhen I inform you, that we have just passed our most inveterate foe,\nwho, under the mask of pretended friendship you have witnessed, would\nlull us to security, and by such means, in the unguarded moments of our\nmidnight slumber, without resistance, seal our fate.\"\n\nThe men with astonishment listened to this short harangue; and their\nsurprise was greater, as not one of them had entertained the suspicion\nbut they had just encountered friends. They all immediately resolved to\nenter into some scheme for their mutual preservation and destruction of\ntheir enemies. By the proposal of their leader, the following plan was\nadopted and executed:\n\nThe spot selected for their night's encampment was near a stream of\nwater, which served to cover their rear. They felled a large tree,\nbefore which on the approach of night, a brilliant fire was lighted.\nEach individual cut a log of wood about the size of his body, rolled it\nnicely in his blanket, placed his hat upon the extremity, and laid it\nbefore the fire, that the enemy might be deceived, and mistake it for a\nman. After logs equal in number to the sargeant's party were thus fitted\nout, and so artfully arranged that they might be easily mistaken for so\nmany soldiers, the men with loaded muskets placed themselves behind the\nfallen tree, by which time the shades of evening began to close around.\nThe fire was supplied in fuel, and kept burning brilliantly until late\nin the evening, when it was suffered to decline. The critical time was\nnow approaching, when an attack might be expected from the Indians; but\nthe sargeant's men rested in their place of concealment with great\nanxiety till near midnight, without perceiving any movement of the\nenemy.\n\nAt length a tall Indian was discovered through the glimmering of the\nfire, cautiously moving toward them, making no noise, and apparently\nusing every means in his power to conceal himself from any one about the\ncamp. For a time his actions showed him to be suspicious that a guard\nmight be stationed to watch any unusual appearance, who would give the\nalarm in case of danger; but all appearing quiet, he ventured forward\nmore boldly, rested upon his toes, and was distinctly seen to move his\nfinger as he numbered each log of wood, or what he supposed to be a\nhuman being quietly enjoying repose. To satisfy himself more fully as to\nthe number, he counted them over a second time, and cautiously retired.\nHe was succeeded by another Indian, who went through the same movements,\nand retired in the same manner. Soon after the whole party, sixteen in\nnumber, were discovered approaching, and greedily eyeing their supposed\nvictims. The feelings of the sargeant's men can better be imagined than\ndescribed, when they saw the base and cruel purpose of their enemies,\nwho were now so near that they could scarcely be restrained from firing\nupon them. The plan, however, of the sargeant, was to have his men\nremain silent in their places of concealment till the muskets of the\nsavages were discharged, that their own fire might be more effectual,\nand opposition less formidable.\n\nTheir suspense was not of long duration. The Indians, in a body,\ncautiously approached, till within a short distance; they then halted,\ntook deliberate aim, discharged their pieces upon inanimate _logs_, gave\nthe dreadful war-whoop, and instantly rushed forward with tomahawk and\nscalping-knife in hand, to dispatch the living, and obtain the scalps of\nthe dead. As soon as they had collected in close order, more effectually\nto execute their horrid intentions, the party of the sargeant, with\nunerring aim, discharged their pieces, not on logs of wood, but\nperfidious savages, not one of whom escaped destruction by the snare\ninto which they led themselves.\n\nThere must have been a touch of grim humor about that sargeant as well\nas of cool courage.\n\nMany instances are on record of those days of danger\u2014where either in\nbattle or in the settlement of new countries, the cruel and crafty\nred-man had to be encountered\u2014where the minds of men have been thrown\nfrom their balance by the sight of barbarities, or the suffering of\nafflictions, which overthrow their shuddering reasons. Some men have\nbeen called monomaniacs, from the fact of their restless and rankling\nhatred of the race who had inflicted some great misery upon them or\ntheirs. But it is hardly strange that when they saw those savages behave\nworse than tigers, they decided to treat them like wild beasts, and that\nthey were justified in the attempt to exterminate them. There must be\nmen in Minnesota, at this day, who are monomaniacs on the subject of the\nred-skins. One of the most noted of these Indian haters was John\nMoredock, of Kentucky; and these are the circumstances which made him\nso, as given in a fine paper on the early settlers, in Harper's Magazine\nfor 1861:\n\nToward the end of the last century there lived at Vincennes a woman\nwhose whole life had been spent on the frontier. She had been widowed\nfour or five times by the Indians; her last husband, whose name was\nMoredock, had been killed a few years before the time of which we speak.\nBut she had managed to bring up a large family in a respectable manner.\nNow, when her sons were growing up, she resolved to better their\ncondition by moving \"West.\" The whole of Illinois was a blooming waste\nof prairie land, except in a few places where stood the trading-posts\nbuilt a hundred years before by the French.\n\nThe lower peninsula of Illinois was not of a nature to attract emigrants\nwhen so much finer lands were to be found on the banks of the Great\nRiver and its tributaries; nor was a land journey over that marshy\nregion, infested as it was by roving bands of savages, to be lightly\nundertaken, when the two rivers furnished a so much more easy though\ncircuitous way to the delightful region beyond. Hence it was usual for a\ncompany of those intending to make the journey to purchase a sufficient\nnumber of pirogues, or keel-boats, in them descend the Ohio, and then\nascend the Mississippi to the mouth of the Kaskaskia, or any other\ndestined point. By adopting this mode of traveling all serious danger of\nIndian attacks was avoided, except at one or two points on the latter\nstream, where it was necessary to land and draw the boats around certain\nobstructions in the channel.\n\nTo one of these companies the Moredock family joined itself\u2014several of\nthe sons being sufficiently well-grown to take a part not only in the\nordinary labors of the voyage but in any conflict that might occur. All\nwent well with the expedition until they reached the rock known as the\n\"Grand Tower\" on the Mississippi, almost within sight of their\ndestination. Here, supposing themselves to be out of danger, the men\ncarelessly leaped on shore to drag the boats up against the current,\nwhich here rushed violently around the base of the cliff. The women and\nchildren, fifteen or twenty in number, tired of being cooped in the\nnarrow cabins for three or four weeks, thoughtlessly followed. While the\nwhole party were thus making their way slowly along the narrow space\nbetween the perpendicular precipice on one hand, the well-known yell of\nsavage onset rung in their ears, and a volley of rifles from above\nstretched half a dozen of the number dead in their midst, while almost\nat the same moment a band of the painted demons appeared at each end of\nthe fatal pass. The experienced border men, who saw at a glance that\ntheir condition was hopeless, stood for one moment overwhelmed with\nconsternation; but in the next the spirit of the true Indian fighter\nawoke within their hearts, and they faced their assailants with hopeless\nbut desperate valor.\n\nThe conflict that ensued was only a repetition of the scene which the\nrivers and woods of the West had witnessed a thousand times before, in\nwhich all the boasted strength and intelligence of the whites had been\nbaffled by the superior cunning of the red-men. \"Battle Rock,\" \"Murder\nCreek,\" \"Bloody Run,\" and hundreds of similar names scattered throughout\nour land, are but so many characters in that stern epitaph which the\naborigines, during their slow retreat across the continent toward the\nRocky Mountains, and annihilation, have written for themselves in the\nblood of the destroying race. The history of Indian warfare contains no\npassage more fearful than is to be found in the narrative of the\nmassacre at the Grand Tower of the Mississippi. Half armed, surprised,\nencumbered with their women and children, and taken in so\ndisadvantageous a situation, being all huddled together on a narrow\nsand-beach, with their enemies above and on either side, their most\ndesperate efforts availed not even to postpone their fate; and in the\nspace of ten minutes after the warning yell was heard, the mangled\nbodies of forty men, women and children lay heaped upon the narrow strip\nof sand. The conflict had ended in the complete destruction of the\nemigrant company\u2014so complete that the savages imagined not a single\nsurvivor remained to carry the disastrous tidings to the settlements.\n\nBut one such wretched survivor, however, there was. John Moredock, who,\nhaving fought like a young tiger until all hope of saving even a part of\nthe unfortunate company was lost, and who then, favored by the smoke,\nand the eagerness of the assailants for scalps, and the plunder of the\nboats, glided through the midst of the savages and nestled himself in a\ncleft of the rocks. Here he lay for hours, sole spectator of a scene of\nIndian ferocity which transformed his young heart to flint, and awoke\nthat thirst for revenge which continued to form the ruling sentiment of\nhis future life, and which raged as insatiably on the day of his death,\nforty years later, when he had become a man of mark, holding high\noffices in his adopted State, as it did when crouching among the rocks\nof the Grand Tower; and, beholding the bodies of his mother, sisters and\nbrothers mangled by the Indian tomahawk, he bound himself by a solemn\noath never from that moment to spare one of the accursed race who might\ncome within reach of his arm; and especially to track the footsteps of\nthe marauding band who had just swept away all that he loved on earth,\nuntil the last one should have paid the penalty of life for life.\n\nHow long he remained thus concealed he never knew; but at length, as the\nsun was setting, the Indians departed, and John Moredock stepped forth\nfrom his hiding-place, not what he had entered it, a brave,\nlight-hearted lad of nineteen, the pride of a large family circle and\nthe favorite of a whole little colony of borderers, but an orphan and an\nutter stranger in a strange land, standing alone amidst the ghastly and\ndisfigured corpses of his family and friends. He had hoped to find some\nlife still lingering amidst the heaps of carnage; but all, all had\nperished. Having satisfied himself of this fact, the lonely boy\u2014now\ntransformed into that most fearful of all beings, a thoroughly desperate\nman\u2014quitted the place, and, guiding himself by the stars, struck across\nthe prairie toward the nearest settlement on the Kaskaskia, where he\narrived the next morning, bringing to the inhabitants the first news of\nthe massacre which had taken place so near their own village, and the\nfirst warning of the near approach of the prowling band which had been\nfor several months depredating, at various points along that exposed\nfrontier, in spite of the treaties lately made by their nations with the\nFederal Government.\n\nJohn Moredock was by nature formed for a leader in times of danger, and\nhis avowed determination to revenge the massacre of his friends and\nkindred by the extirpation of the murderous band coincided so exactly\nwith the feelings of the frontiersmen, that, in spite of his lack of\nprevious acquaintance, he in a few days found himself at the head of a\ncompany of twenty-five or thirty young men, whose lives had been spent\nin the midst of all kinds of perils and hardships, and who now bound\nthemselves to their leader by an oath never to give up the pursuit until\nthe last one of the marauding band engaged in the attack at Grand Tower\nshould be slain.\n\nStanch as a pack of blood-hounds this little company of avengers ranged\nthe frontier from the Des Moines to the Ohio, now almost within reach of\ntheir victims, and now losing all trace of them on the boundless\nprairies over which they roamed, unconscious of the doom by which they\nwere being so hotly but stealthily pursued. Once, indeed, the whites\ncame up with their game on the banks of a tributary of the Missouri, a\nhundred and fifty miles beyond the utmost line of the settlements; but\nas the Indians, though unsuspicious of any particular danger, had\npitched their camp in a spot at once easy to defend and to escape from,\nand as Moredock wished to destroy and not to disperse them, he forbore\nstriking a partial blow, and resolved rather to postpone his revenge\nthan to enjoy it incompletely.\n\nFortune, however, seemed to repay him for this act of self-restraint by\npresenting the very opportunity he had sought, when, a few weeks\nafterward, he discovered the whole gang of marauders encamped for the\nnight on a small island in the middle of the Mississippi. After a hasty\nconsultation with his companions, a course of procedure was determined\nupon which strikingly displays both the monomaniacal tendency of the\nleader and the desperate ascendancy he had acquired over his followers.\nThis was nothing less than to shut themselves up on that narrow sand-bar\nand to engage the savages in a hand-to-hand conflict\u2014a conflict from\nwhich neither party could retreat, and which must necessarily end in the\ntotal destruction of one or the other. A most desperate undertaking\ntruly, when we reflect that the numbers of the combatants were about\nequal, and that to surprise an Indian encampment was next to impossible.\nBut John Moredock, and, probably, more than one of his companions, were\nmonomaniacs, and considerations of personal danger never entered into\ntheir calculations. Revenge, not safety, was their object, and they took\nlittle thought of the latter when the opportunity of compassing the\nformer was presented.\n\nSlowly and stealthily, therefore, the canoes approached the island when\nall sounds there had ceased, and the flame of the camp-fire had sunk\ninto a pale-red glow, barely marking the position of the doomed party\namong the undergrowth with which the central portion of the little isle\nwas covered. The Indians, confiding in their natural watchfulness,\nseldom place sentinels around their camps; and thus Moredock and his\nband reached the island without being discovered. A few moments sufficed\nto set their own canoes as well as those of the Indians adrift, and\nthen, with gun in hand and tomahawk ready, they glided noiselessly, as\nso many panthers, into the thicket, separating as they advanced so as to\napproach the camp from different quarters. All remained still as death\nfor many minutes while the assailants were thus closing in around their\nprey, and not a twig snapped, and scarcely a leaf stirred in the thick\njungle through which thirty armed men were making their way in as many\ndifferent directions, but all converging toward the same point, where a\npale glimmer indicated the position of the unsuspected savages. But\nthough an Indian camp may be easily approached within a certain\ndistance, it is almost impossible, if there be any considerable number\nof them, to actually strike its occupants while asleep. As savages,\nroaming at large over the face of the continent without fixed\nhabitations, and relying upon chance for the supply of their few wants,\nthey know nothing of that regularity of habit which devotes certain\nfixed portions of time to the various purposes of life, but each one\neats, sleeps or watches, just as his own feelings may dictate at the\nmoment, without any regard to established usages of time or place. Hence\nthe probability of finding all the members of an Indian party asleep at\nthe same time is small indeed.\n\nOn the present occasion two or three warriors, who were smoking over the\nembers, caught the alarm before the assailants had quite closed in.\nStill the surprise gave the white men a great advantage, and half a\ndozen of the savages were shot down in their tracks before they\ncomprehended the meaning of the hideous uproar, which suddenly broke the\nmidnight stillness as Moredock and his company, finding their approach\ndiscovered, rushed in upon them. This fatal effect of the first volley\nwas a lucky thing for the adventurers; for the Indians are less liable\nto panics than almost any other people, and they closed with their\nassailants with a fury that, combined with their superior skill in\nnocturnal conflict, would have rendered the issue of the struggle a very\ndoubtful matter had the number of combatants been more nearly even. As\nit was, the nimble warriors fought their way against all odds to the\npoint where their canoes had been moored. Here, finding their expected\nmeans of flight removed, and exposed upon the naked sand-beach, the\nsurvivors still made desperate battle until all were slain except three,\nwho plunged boldly into the stream, and, aided by the darkness,\nsucceeded in reaching the main land in safety.\n\nTwenty-seven of those engaged in the massacre at the Grand Tower had\nbeen destroyed at a single blow. But three had escaped from the bloody\ntrap, and while these lived the vengeance of John Moredock was\nunsatisfied. They must perish, and he determined that it should be by\nhis own hand. He therefore dismissed his faithful band, and thenceforth\ncontinued the pursuit alone. Having learned the names of the three\nsurvivors he easily tracked them from place to place, as they roamed\nabout in a circuit of three or four hundred miles. Had the wretches\nknown what avenger of blood was thus dogging their tracks, the whole\nextent of the continent would not have afforded space enough for their\nflight, or its most retired nook a sufficiently secure retreat. But\nquite as relentless Moredock pursued his purpose, and but few even of\nhis acquaintances knew the motive of his ceaseless journey along the\nfrontiers from Green Bay to the mouth of the Ohio, and far into the\nunsettled wastes beyond the Mississippi.\n\nAt length, about two years after the massacre of his family at the\nTower, he returned to Kaskaskia, having completed his terrible task, and\nbearing the scalp of the last of the murderers at his girdle.\n\nMoredock lived to be a popular and leading man in his State, an\noffice-holder, a kind neighbor and beloved head of a family, yet he\nnever relaxed in his hatred of the race who had poisoned the fountain of\nyouthful hope for him.\n\n\n\n\n DEBORAH SAMPSON, THE MAIDEN WARRIOR.\n\n\nThere comes to us, from the days of chivalry, in song and story, legends\nof ladies who followed their lords to the distant field of Palestine,\nhiding their soft hearts under the disguise of the page's dress. Time,\nthe romancer, has thrown his enchanting vail over their adventures,\nsurrounding them with the grace of mystery and the glory of sentiment.\n\nPerhaps in the far-away future of our immortal republic, young men and\nmaidens will dream over the story of DEBORAH SAMPSON, the girl-soldier\nof that Revolution which won us our liberties. It will not be said that\nshe donned the uniform and shouldered the musket for the sake of some\ndear lover, that she might ever be near to watch over him in the hour of\ndanger, and to nurse him if wounded, with all the tender solicitude of\nwoman's love; but it will be told that she went into the service of her\ncountry because men were few and her heart was in the cause. She had\nhealth and courage, and that high patriotism which burned alike in manly\nand feminine breasts. That she was brave, is proven by her being twice\nwounded in battle. There is no need of putting any other construction\nthan that of pure patriotism upon her actions; the steadiness with which\nshe performed her duties show that it was no wild love of adventure\nwhich possessed her.\n\nDeborah Sampson was born in the county of Plymouth, Massachusetts. Her\nparents were poor and vicious, and their children were taken from them\nby the hand of charity, to be placed with different families, where\nthere was a prospect of their being better cared for. Deborah found a\nhome with a respectable farmer, by whom she was treated as one of the\nfamily, except in the matter of education. To overcome this deprivation\nshe used to borrow the books of school children, over which she pored\nuntil she learned to read tolerably well. This simple fact reveals that\nher mind was no ordinary one. She was a true child of New England,\nambitious to be the equal of those by whom she was surrounded, and\nlooking upon ignorance almost as degradation. Many of our now famous\nminds began their culture in this humble way, by the side of the kitchen\nfire, perhaps with a pine-torch, by the light of which to pursue their\neager groping after knowledge.\n\nAs soon as the completion of her eighteenth year released her from\nindenture, she hastened to seek a situation in which to improve herself,\nand made arrangements with a family to work one-half her time for her\nboard and lodging, while, during the other half, she attended the\ndistrict-school. Her improvement was so rapid, that in a comparatively\nshort space of time she was thought competent to teach, and by doing so\nfor one term, the ambitious girl amassed the sum of _twelve dollars_! In\nall this we see the remarkable energy and force of character which\nenabled her to carry out the career she afterward chose. The young\nbound-girl who so soon would raise herself to the position of teacher,\nmust have had in her elements, which, had she been a _man_, would have\nurged her to the performance of deeds that would have given her\nprominence in those stirring days.\n\nWhile Deborah was teaching her little summer school, the spirit of\nresistance to tyranny which long had struggled toward the light, burst\nforth over the whole country, never to be hid again. The first battle\nhad been fought at Lexington; the sound of the cannon had rolled from\nBunker Hill in echoes which would not die. They thrilled and trembled\nalong the air, in never-ending vibrations, smiting the ears of patriots,\nand rousing their hearts to the duties and perils of the hour. Deborah,\nin her little schoolroom, heard the sound. For her it had a peculiar\nmessage; it called her\u2014she could not resist! Something in her courageous\nbreast told her that she was as well fitted to serve her beloved country\nas the young men, who, with kindling eyes and eager feet, were rushing\nto its assistance. Walking slowly home from her school, along the lonely\nroad, looking out at night from the little window of her chamber at the\nstars, she pondered the voice in her heart. The more she thought, the\nmore earnest she became in her desire. There was no reason why she\nshould silence the resolution which called her. She was accountable to\nnone; was friendless, without kindred or home. Why was she given this\nvigorous and healthy frame, and this heroic heart, if not for the\nservice of her suffering country? Perhaps Providence had loosened her\nfrom other ties, that she might attach herself solely to this holy\ncause. With such arguments as these she quieted the timidity which arose\nsolely from maidenly fears that she might be detected in her plans, and\nsubjected to the embarrassment of being refused or ridiculed on account\nof her sex.\n\nWith that humble wealth of twelve dollars she purchased the materials\nfor a suit of men's clothing. Upon the cloth she worked secretly, as she\nfound the opportunity, each article, upon completion, being hidden in a\nstack of hay. When her arrangements were completed she announced a\ndetermination to seek better wages, and took her departure, without her\nreal purpose being suspected. When far enough away to feel secure, she\ndonned her male attire, and pursued her way to the American army, where\nshe presented herself in October, 1778, as a young man anxious to join\nhis efforts to those of his countrymen in their endeavors to oppose the\ncommon enemy. She is described as being, at this time, of very\nprepossessing features, and intelligent, animated expression, with a\nfine, tall form, and such an air of modest courage and freshness as\ninspired confidence and respect in those who had become associated with\nher. She was gladly received, as a promising recruit, and enrolled in\nthe army under the name of Robert Shirtliffe, the period of her\nenlistment being for the war.\n\nWhile the company was recruiting she was an inmate of the Captain's\nfamily, and, by her exemplary conduct, won the esteem of all. A young\ngirl, visiting in the family, was much in the company of young \"Robert;\"\nand, being of a coquettish disposition\u2014priding herself, perhaps, on the\nconquest of the young soldier\u2014she suffered her partiality to be noticed.\n\"Robert,\" having no objections to see how easily a maiden's heart\n_could_ be won, encouraged the feeling, until the Captain's wife,\nbecoming alarmed, took occasion to remonstrate with the youth upon the\nsubject. \"Robert\" took the matter in good part, and the affair ended in\nthe exchange of some few tokens of remembrance at parting.\n\nAt the end of six or seven weeks, the company being full, was ordered to\njoin the main army, and Deborah's military life commenced in earnest.\nThe record does not give all the details of her career, though the\nrecord of a life in camp and on the field, under such circumstances,\nmust be full of interest. She herself has said that volumes might be\nfilled with her adventures. She performed her duties to the entire\nsatisfaction of her officers; was a volunteer on several expeditions of\na hazardous nature, and was twice wounded severely; the first time by a\nsword-cut on the side of her head, and the second by a bullet-wound\nthrough the shoulder. She served three years, and, during all that time,\nher sex never was suspected, though often in circumstances where\ndetection seemed unavoidable. The soldiers nicknamed her \"Molly,\" in\nplayful allusion to her want of a beard; but little did they suspect\nthat their gallant comrade was, indeed, a woman.\n\nThe last wound which she received, of a bullet through her shoulder,\ngave her great uneasiness, for fear that the surgeon, upon dressing it,\nwould discover the deception which had been so long and so successfully\npracticed. She always described the emotion, when the ball entered, to\nbe one of mental, not of physical anguish\u2014a sickening terror at the\nprobability of her sex being revealed. She felt that death on the\nbattle-field would be preferable to the shame she would suffer in such a\ncase, and prayed rather to die than to be betrayed. Strange as it may\nappear, she again escaped undetected. Recovering rapidly, she soon\nresumed her place in the ranks, as brave and willing as ever.\n\nSickness, however, was destined to bring about the catastrophe which the\nperils of the battle-field had never precipitated. She was seized with\nbrain fever, then prevailing among the soldiers. For the few days that\nreason struggled with the disease her sufferings were great; and these\nwere intensely aggravated by her mental anxiety\u2014that ever-present fear,\nlest, during her unconsciousness, her carefully-guarded secret should\nbecome known. She was carried to the hospital, where the number of the\npatients and the negligent manner in which they were attended still\nsecured her escape. Her case was considered hopeless, on which account\nshe received still less attention. She continued to sink, until\nconsciousness was gone, and life itself trembled on the faintest breath\nwhich ever held it.\n\nOne day, the surgeon of the hospital inquiring \"how Robert was?\"\nreceived assurance from the nurse that \"poor Bob was gone.\" Going to the\nbed, and taking the wrist of the youth, he found the pulse still feebly\nbeating. Attempting to place his hand on the heart, he found a bandage\nbound tightly over the breast. Then it was that the secret of the\ngirl-soldier became known to the physician; but if she had been his own\ndaughter he could not have guarded it more delicately. Deborah had\nfallen into good hands, in this crisis of her affairs.\n\nIt was Dr. Birney, of Philadelphia, who was then in attendance at the\nhospital. Without communicating his discovery to any one, he gave his\npatient such care that she was raised from the grave, as it were; and\nwhen sufficiently recovered to be removed, he had her conveyed to his\nown house, where she was the recipient of every kind attention from the\nfamily as long as she remained an invalid. And now occurred another of\nthose romantic episodes which give an interest to the history of our\nhero-heroine. If Deborah Sampson had indeed been the \"Robert\" she\nprofessed to be, she would have been a favorite with the softer sex;\nsince, without her seeking it, twice the affections of fair maidens were\nlaid at her feet. We may conjecture, to the credit of the fair sex, that\nthe purity and modesty of \"Robert\"\u2014_his_ unassuming excellence and\n_womanly_ goodness, had much to do with success in this line.\n\nA niece of the doctor's, a young and wealthy lady, became interested in\nthe youth whom she had aided in restoring to health, by her attentions.\n\"Pity,\" which is \"akin to love,\" gradually melted into that warmer\nfeeling. The modest and handsome young man, who shrunk from taking the\nslightest advantage of her kindness, aroused all the compassion and\nsensibility of her heart. Lovely and young, conscious that many, more\ninfluential than he, would be honored to sue for her hand, she yet\nallowed her affections to turn to the pale and unassuming, the humble\nand poor, soldier. The uncle was warned of his imprudence in allowing\nthe young couple to be so much together, but he laughed in his sleeve at\nsuch suggestions, tickling his fancy with the idea of how foolish the\ncensorious would feel when the truth should be made known. He had not\nconfided his knowledge even to the members of his own family. It is not\nprobable that he really believed his niece's feelings were becoming so\nwarmly interested, or he would have given her a sufficient caution; she\nwas allowed to be with the convalescent as much as she liked.\n\nAt first the heart of \"Robert\" opened to this innocent and lovely girl,\nwhom she loved as a sister, and whose gentle kindness was so winning;\nshe showed the gratitude which she felt, and perhaps even confided to\nher some of the lonely emotions which had so long remained unspoken in\nher breast; but it was not long before the young soldier, warned by past\nexperience, felt apprehensive of the return of affection which she\nreceived, and strove, delicately, to withdraw from the painful position\nin which she was being placed. Taking this shrinking embarrassment for\nthe sensitive modesty of one who, friendless and poor, dared not aspire\nto the hand of one so much above him in social position, the fair\nheiress, trusting the evident goodness of his heart, and actuated alike\nby love and the noblest generosity, made known her attachment to\n\"Robert,\" and signified her willingness to furnish him the means of\nfitting himself for such a station, and then to marry him.\n\nWhen Deborah beheld this guileless young creature, with blushes and\ntears, making this unexpected and unwelcome avowal, she felt, with\nbitter pain, the position in which she was placed. Then she wished that\nshe indeed was the Robert Shirtliffe she had assumed to be, rather than\nwound the feelings of one to whom she was so much indebted, by a refusal\nof what had been so timidly offered. Yet to reveal her true character\nwould be still more awkward and painful. The wounded sensibility of the\nyoung girl did not, in that hour, cause her so much suffering, as the\nremorse and regret of the false \"Robert\" caused him.\n\nSaying that they should meet again, and that, though ardently desiring\nan education, she could not accept her noble offer, Deborah endeavored\nto hurt the sensitive girl as little as possible, while withdrawing from\nthe dilemma in which she was placed. Shortly after, she departed, taking\nwith her several articles of clothing, such as in those days were\nfrequent gifts to the soldiers from the hands of fair women, and which\nwere pressed upon her acceptance by the young lady.\n\nThe _denouement_ rapidly followed her recovery. The physician had a\nconference with the commanding officer of the company with which Robert\nhad served, which was followed by an order to the youth to carry a\nletter to General Washington. She now became aware, for the first time,\nthat her secret was known, and that detection was no longer avoidable.\nShe had suspected that Dr. Birney knew more than he had given intimation\nof, but her most anxious scrutiny of his words and countenance had never\nassured her of the truth of her fears. Now that the worst was come, she\nhad no way but to meet it with that courage which was a part of her\nnature. Yet she would rather have faced the fire of the British cannon\nthan to have confronted Washington with that letter in her hand.\n\nTrembling and confused, she presented herself before the\nCommander-in-Chief, who, noticing her extreme agitation, with his usual\nkindness endeavored to restore her confidence; but finding her still so\nabashed, bade her retire with an attendant, who was ordered to procure\nher some refreshment, while the General read the letter of which she had\nbeen the bearer.\n\nWhen she was recalled to his presence, he silently put into her hand a\ndischarge from service, along with a brief note of advice, and a sum of\nmoney sufficient to bear her to some place where she might find a home.\nVery glad and grateful was she to escape thus unrebuked out of that\npresence.\n\nAfter the war she married; and while Washington was President she paid a\nvisit to the seat of Government on his invitation. She was received with\nevery attention. Congress was then in session, and passed a bill\ngranting her a pension for life. She lived in comfortable circumstances,\npassing from the stage of human life at an advanced age.\n\nIt is probable that, after several generations of historians, poets and\nromance writers have embellished the story of Deborah Sampson, she will\nbecome invested, to the eyes of our descendants, with a glory like that\nwhich encircles the memory of the Maid of Orleans.\n\nThere is an incident of a most romantic and touching nature, connected\nwith the history of the brave Sergeant Jasper, of Marion's brigade. A\nyoung girl, in this instance, followed the fortunes of war, not out of\npatriotic motives, like those which inspired Deborah Sampson, but\nimpelled by a love which no wildest romance of the olden time can more\nthan match. The page who drew the poison from her lover's wound, on the\ndistant plains of the Holy Land, proved not so devoted as this young\nAmerican girl, throwing her tender bosom between Jasper's heart and\ndeath.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n Deborah Sampson, the Maiden Warrior.\n]\n\nSergeant Jasper was one of the bravest of Marion's men, possessing\nremarkable talents as a scout, and often chosen for such expeditions. He\nwas one of those of whom Bryant says:\n\n \"Our band is few, but true and tried,\n Our leader frank and bold;\n The British soldier trembles\n When Marion's name is told.\n Our fortress is the good greenwood,\n Our tent the cypress tree;\n We know the forest 'round us,\n As seamen know the sea.\n We know its walls of thorny vines,\n Its glades of reedy grass,\n Its safe and silent islands\n Within the dark morass.\"\n\nSometime just before, or about the beginning of the war, Jasper had the\ngood fortune to save the life of a young, beautiful, and dark-eyed\nCreole girl, called Sally St. Clair. Her susceptible nature was overcome\nwith gratitude to her preserver, and this soon ripened into a passion of\nlove, of the most deep and fervent kind. She lavished upon him the whole\nwealth of her affections, and the whole depths of a passion nurtured by\na Southern sun. When he was called upon to join the ranks of his\ncountry's defenders, the prospect of their separation almost maddened\nher. Their parting came, but scarcely was she left alone, ere her\nromantic nature prompted the means of a reunion. Once resolved, no\nconsideration of danger could dampen her spirit, and no thought of\nconsequences could move her purpose. She severed her long and jetty\nringlets, and provided herself with male attire. In these she robed\nherself, and set forth to follow the fortunes of her lover.\n\nA smooth-faced, beautiful and delicate stripling appeared among the\nhardy, rough and giant frames who composed the corps to which Jasper\nbelonged. The contrast between the stripling and these men, in their\nuncouth garbs, their massive faces, embrowned and discolored by sun and\nrain, was indeed striking. But none were more eager for the battle, or\nso indifferent to fatigue, as the fair-faced boy. It was found that his\nenergy of character, resolution and courage amply supplied his lack of\nphysique. None ever suspected him to be a woman. Not even Jasper\nhimself, although she was often by his side, penetrated her disguise.\n\nThe romance of her situation increased the fervor of her passion. It was\nher delight to reflect that, unknown to him, she was by his side,\nwatching over him in the hour of danger. She fed her passion by gazing\nupon him in the hour of slumber, hovering near him when stealing through\nthe swamp and thicket, and being always ready to avert danger from his\nhead.\n\nBut gradually there stole a melancholy presentiment over the poor girl's\nmind. She had been tortured with hopes deferred; the war was prolonged,\nand the prospect of being restored to him grew more and more uncertain.\nBut now she felt that her dream of happiness could never be realized.\nShe became convinced that death was about to snatch her away from his\nside, but she prayed that she might die, and he never know to what\nlength the violence of her passion led her.\n\nIt was an eve before a battle. The camp had sunk into repose. The\nwatch-fires were burning low, and only the slow tread of sentinels fell\nupon the profound silence of the night air, as they moved through the\ndark shadows of the forest. Stretched upon the ground, with no other\ncouch than a blanket, reposed the warlike form of Jasper. Climbing vines\ntrailed themselves into a canopy above his head, through which the stars\nshone down softly. The faint flicker from the expiring embers of a fire\nfell athwart his countenance, and tinged the cheek of one who bent above\nhis couch. It was the smooth-faced stripling. She bent low down as if to\nlisten to his dreams, or to breathe into his soul pleasant visions of\nlove and happiness. But tears trace themselves down the fair one's\ncheek, and fall silently but rapidly upon the brow of her lover. A\nmysterious voice has told her that the hour of parting has come; that\nto-morrow her destiny is consummated. There is one last, long, lingering\nlook, and then the unhappy maid is seen to tear herself away from the\nspot, to weep out her sorrows in privacy.\n\nFierce and terrible is the conflict that on the morrow rages on that\nspot. Foremost in the battle is the intrepid Jasper, and ever by his\nside fights the stripling warrior. Often during the heat and the smoke,\ngleams suddenly upon the eyes of Jasper the melancholy face of the\nmaiden. In the thickest of the fight, surrounded by enemies, the lovers\nfight side by side. Suddenly a lance is leveled at the breast of Jasper;\nbut swifter than the lance is Sally St. Clair. There is a wild cry, and\nat the feet of Jasper sinks the maiden, with the life-blood gushing from\nthe white bosom, which had been thrown, as a shield, before his breast.\nHe heeds not now the din, nor the danger of the conflict, but down by\nthe side of the dying boy he kneels. Then for the first time does he\nlearn that the stripling is his love; that often by the camp-fire, and\nin the swamp, she had been by his side; that the dim visions, in his\nslumber, of an angel face hovering above him, had indeed been true. In\nthe midst of the battle, with her lover by her side, and the barb still\nin her bosom, the heroic maiden dies!\n\nHer name, her sex, and her noble devotion soon became known through the\ncorps. There was a tearful group gathered around her grave; there was\nnot one of those hardy warriors who did not bedew her grave with tears.\nThey buried her near the river Santee, \"in a green, shady nook, that\nlooked as if it had been stolen out of Paradise.\"\n\nThe women of the Revolution won a noble name by the part they took in\nthe conflict which has secured for their descendants so glorious an\ninheritance. Privations of all kinds they endured patiently, joyfully\nsending their dearest ones to the field, while they remained in their\nlonely homes, deprived of the care and society of fathers and sons;\nfinding their pleasantest relief from the heart-ache of grief and\nsuspense in labors at the loom or with the needle for the benefit of the\nill-provided soldiers.\n\nMany individual instances of female heroism are preserved, where the\nbravery of naturally timid hearts was tested in exposure to the rudest\nvicissitudes of war. They played the parts of spies, messengers, and\ndefenders. Among other anecdotes we have one of a young girl of North\nCarolina. At the time General Greene retreated before Lord Rawdon from\nNinety-Six, when he had passed Broad River, he was very desirous to send\nan order to General Sumter, who was on the Wateree, to join him, that\nthey might attack Rawdon, who had divided his force. But the General\ncould find no man in that portion of the State who was bold enough to\nundertake so dangerous a mission. The country to be passed through for\nmany miles was full of bloodthirsty Tories, who, on every occasion that\noffered, imbrued their hands in the blood of the Whigs. At length this\nyoung girl, Emily Geiger, presented herself to General Greene, proposing\nto act as his messenger, and he, both surprised and delighted, closed\nwith her proposal. He accordingly wrote a letter and delivered it,\nwhile, at the same time, he communicated the contents of it verbally, to\nbe told to Sumter, in case of accident.\n\nShe started off on horseback, and on the second day of her journey was\nintercepted by Lord Rawdon's scouts. Coming from the direction of\nGreene's army, and not being able to tell an untruth without blushing,\nEmily was suspected and confined to a room; but as the officer in\ncommand had the delicacy not to search her at the time, he sent for an\nold Tory matron to perform the duty. Emily was not wanting in expedient;\nas soon as the door was closed, and the bustle a little subsided, she\n_ate up the letter_, piece by piece. After a while the matron arrived,\nwho found nothing of a suspicious nature about the prisoner, though she\nmade a careful search, and the young girl would disclose nothing.\nSuspicion being thus allayed, the officer commanding the scouts suffered\nEmily to depart whither she said she was bound; she took a circuitous\nroute to avoid further detection, soon after striking into the road\nwhich led to Sumter's camp, where she arrived in safety. Here she told\nher adventure and delivered Greene's verbal message to Sumter, who, in\nconsequence, soon after joined the main army at Orangeburg. This young\nheroine afterward married a rich planter, named Therwits, who lived on\nthe Congaree.\n\nA similar adventure is related of Miss Moore, daughter of Captain Moore,\nwho was present at Braddock's defeat, and who died in 1770. This girl\nwas also a \"daughter of the Carolinas.\" Alas, that the fair descendants\nof women so brave as these, should aid in imperiling the country and the\ncause for which their mothers sacrificed and suffered so much!\n\nHer youth was passed among the eventful scenes of our Revolution, and a\nnumber of incidents are related, that go to prove her calm courage, and\nher inflexibility of purpose. She was born in 1764, and, therefore, in\nthe earlier part of the contest was nothing more than a child.\n\nThe terrors of the war were often enacted before the very door of her\nstep-father's residence. On one occasion, a most sanguinary skirmish\ntook place just before the house, between a body of Colonel Washington's\ncavalry and some of Rawdon's men. Shortly after, a party of the British\nin search of plunder broke into the house. But the family had been\nforewarned, and concealed their treasures. In searching for plunder they\ndiscovered a quantity of apples, and began to roll them down the stairs,\nwhile the soldiers below picked them up. Miss Moore, nothing fearing,\ncommanded them to desist, with an air so determined and resolute, that\nan officer standing by, admiring so courageous a spirit in a girl so\nyoung, ordered the soldiers to obey her.\n\nOn another occasion, a party of Tories, in pillaging the house,\ncommanded one of the servants to bring them the horses. Miss Moore\ncommanded him not to obey. The Tories repeated the order, accompanied\nwith a threat to beat him if he refused. The command of the young girl\nwas reiterated, and just as the Tory was about putting his threat into\nexecution, she threw herself between them, and preserved the slave from\nthe intended violence.\n\nAt one time, great danger was threatening Captain Wallace, who commanded\na small force, a few miles distant. It was of the utmost importance that\nthis intelligence should be conveyed to him, but there was no male whose\nservices could be commanded, and, therefore, Miss Moore volunteered to\nconvey the message herself. This was when she was but fifteen. Midnight\nwas chosen as the hour, and accompanied by her little brother and a\nfemale friend, she set out in a canoe up the river toward the encampment\nof the Whigs. Silently and swiftly they propelled their frail vessel up\nthe dark current, through forests buried in darkness, and a profound\nsilence that awed them; with the calm stars above, and the deep river\ngloomily rolling by, and no human sounds to relieve the oppressive\nsolemnity of the hour. It was the hour, too, when the enemy usually set\nout on their marauding expeditions, and the young girls knew that\nneither their sex nor their innocence would preserve them from ruthless\nfoes, who were more relentless and cruel than the swarthy savages of the\nforest. But the fate of many of their countrymen depended on their\nexertions, and, as it proved, the future destiny of our heroine was\ninvolved in the successful issue of their enterprise. Undismayed by the\nperils of the journey, the young girls bent their energies to the task\nbefore them, and at last saw lights glimmering in the distance, that\npointed out their destination. They soon reached the encampment, a\npicturesque scene, with the ruddy glow from the camp-fires casting the\nsurrounding scene in still greater shadow, and motley groups of figures\ngathered around the fires, sleeping, talking, eating, etc. After\ndelivering the warning to Captain Wallace, the girls embarked in their\ncanoe to return, and soon left the encampment behind, winding their way\nthrough dense forests, and reached their home in safety.\n\nThe next morning, a handsome and gallant-looking American officer rode\nup to the door of Captain Savage's residence, and requested to make a\nfew inquiries of the young lady by whose energy and zeal her countrymen\nhad been saved from an impending danger. Miss Moore appeared, and when\nher youthful and blooming beauty greeted the eyes of the young officer,\nan exclamation of pleasure burst from his lips. He almost forgot to make\nhis inquiries, until reminded by the blushing damsel, but her voice\nrather increased than relieved his embarrassment. All his questions\nhaving been at last answered, and having no excuse by which to prolong\nthe interview, he was reluctantly compelled to depart, but his eyes to\nthe last rested on the fair girl's form. It is said that the young lady\nwas no less struck with the handsome dragoon's figure, and that his face\ncame often to her in her dreams that night.\n\nIt was not long before the young officer made an excuse for again\nvisiting the house where resided the beauty who had bound him captive to\nher charms, and as these impressions were reciprocal, he soon discovered\nwelcome in her manner, and drew happy auguries therefrom. He became an\naccepted suitor. But their love, in a measure, verified the old adage.\nThe step-father opposed the union; at first strenuously, but the\nperseverance of the lover gradually broke down his opposition, and he\neventually yielded consent.\n\nThis officer was Captain, afterward General, Butler. They were married\nin 1784. Mrs. Butler filled a distinguished place in society, being\ncelebrated both for her virtues and graces.\n\nEven the meek spirit of the non-resisting Quakers was roused to\npatriotic ardor by the noble stake for which the battles of the\nRevolution were fought. In proof of what one of their women did in aid\nof the good cause, we have the following account of a signal service\nrendered by a Quakeress:\n\nWhen the British army held possession of Philadelphia, General Harris'\nhead-quarters were in Second street, the fourth door below Spruce, in a\nhouse which was before occupied by General Cadwalader. Directly\nopposite, resided William and Lydia Darrah, members of the Society of\nFriends. A superior officer of the British army, believed to be the\nAdjutant-General, fixed upon one of their chambers, a back room, for\nprivate conference; and two of them frequently met there, with fire and\ncandles, in close consultation. About the second of December, the\nAdjutant-General told Lydia that they would be in the room at seven\no'clock, and remain late, and that they wished the family to retire\nearly to bed; adding, that when they were going away, they would call\nher to let them out, and extinguish their fire and candles. She\naccordingly sent all the family to bed; but, as the officer had been so\nparticular, her curiosity was excited. She took off her shoes, and put\nher ear to the keyhole of the conclave. She overheard an order read for\nall the British troops to march out, late in the evening of the fourth,\nand attack General Washington's army, then encamped at White Marsh. On\nhearing this, she returned to her chamber and laid herself down. Soon\nafter, the officers knocked at her door, but she rose only at the third\nsummons, having feigned to be asleep. Her mind was so much agitated\nthat, from this moment, she could neither eat nor sleep, supposing it to\nbe in her power to save the lives of thousands of her countrymen, but\nnot knowing how she was to convey the necessary information to General\nWashington, nor daring to confide it even to her husband. The time left\nwas, however, short; she quickly determined to make her way, as soon as\npossible, to the American outposts. She informed her family, that, as\nthey were in want of flour, she would go to Frankfort for some; her\nhusband insisted that she should take with her the servant-maid, but, to\nhis surprise, she positively refused. She got access to General Howe,\nand solicited\u2014what he readily granted\u2014a pass through the British troops\non the lines. Leaving her bag at the mill, she hastened toward the\nAmerican lines, and encountered on her way an American,\nLieutenant-Colonel Craig, of the light horse, who, with some of his men,\nwas on the look-out for information. He knew her, and inquired whither\nshe was going. She answered, in quest of her son, an officer in the\nAmerican army, and prayed the Colonel to alight and walk with her. He\ndid so, ordering his troops to keep in sight. To him she disclosed her\nmomentous secret, after having obtained from him the most solemn promise\nnever to betray her individually, since her life might be at stake with\nthe British. He conducted her to a house near at hand, directed a female\nin it to give her something to eat, and he speeded for head-quarters,\nwhere he brought General Washington acquainted with what he had heard.\nWashington made, of course, all preparation for baffling the meditated\nsurprise. Lydia returned home with her flour; sat up alone to watch the\nmovement of the British troops; heard their footsteps; but when they\nreturned, in a few days after, did not dare to ask a question, though\nsolicitous to learn the event. The next evening, the Adjutant-General\ncame in, and requested her to walk up to his room, as he wished to put\nsome questions. She followed him in terror; and when he locked the door,\nand begged her, with an air of mystery, to be seated, she was sure that\nshe was either suspected or had been betrayed. He inquired earnestly\nwhether any of her family were up the last night he and the other\nofficer met; she told him that they all retired at eight o'clock. He\nobserved: \"I know you were asleep, for I knocked at your chamber door\nthree times before you heard me; I am entirely at a loss to imagine who\ngave Washington information of our intended attack, unless the walls of\nthe house could speak. When we arrived near White Marsh, we found all\ntheir cannon mounted, and the troop prepared to receive us; and we have\nmarched back like a parcel of fools.\"\n\nIn contrast with these, and hundreds of similar instances of courage and\nsagacity combined with ardent patriotism, the occasions upon which\nAmerican women played the part of traitors are few indeed. Efforts have\nbeen made, of late years, to affix to the memory of the wife of Benedict\nArnold a still blacker ignominy than that which blasted the name of the\nhusband whom she is said to have persuaded into his treachery. In a\n\"Life of Aaron Burr,\" published three or four years ago, we have a story\nwhose truth we may well doubt, unsupported as it is by any corroborative\nevidence:\n\n\"It fell to Burr's lot to become acquainted with the repulsive truth. He\nwas sitting one evening with Mrs. Prevost (his future wife), when the\napproach of a party of horse was heard, and soon after, a lady, vailed\nand attired in a riding-habit, burst into the room, and hurrying toward\nMrs. Prevost, was on the point of addressing her. Seeing a gentleman\npresent, whom, in the dim light of the room, she did not recognize, she\npaused, and asked, in an anxious tone:\n\n\"'Am I safe? Is this gentleman a friend?'\n\n\"'Oh, yes,' was Mrs. Prevost's reply; 'he is my most particular friend,\nColonel Burr.'\n\n\"'Thank God!' exclaimed Mrs. Arnold, for she it was. 'I've been playing\nthe hypocrite, and I'm tired of it.'\n\n\"She then gave an account of the way she had deceived General\nWashington, Colonel Hamilton and the other American officers, who, she\nsaid, believed her innocent of treason, and had given her an escort of\nhorse from West Point. She made no scruple of confessing the part she\nhad borne in the negotiations with the British General, and declared it\nwas she who had induced her husband to do what he had done. She passed\nthe night at Paramus, taking care to act the part of the outraged and\nfrantic woman whenever strangers were present. Colonel Burr's relations\nwith the Shippen family, of which Mrs. Arnold was a member, had been of\nthe most intimate character from boyhood. They had been his father's\nfriends; and the orphan boy had been taken from his mother's grave to\ntheir home in Philadelphia. He stood toward this fascinating,\nfalse-hearted woman almost in the light of a younger brother, and he\nkept her secret until she was past being harmed by the telling of it.\"\n\nNow Colonel Burr was not present at that interview, but was told of it,\nsome time after, by Mrs. Prevost, then Mrs. Burr. We should hesitate\nbefore we consigned Mrs. Arnold to infamy upon such testimony. It is\ntrue that the authorities of Philadelphia were suspicious of her, as\nthey compelled her, against her will, to leave the city and go to her\nhusband. On the other side, it is said that she declared her abhorrence\nof her husband's crime, and her desire for a separation from him, after\nhis treachery; that her father and brother, influential persons in\nPhiladelphia, begged for her not to be banished to one from whom her\nheart recoiled, and that she promised never to write to her husband, or\nto receive any letters from him except such as the authorities should\nread, if permitted to remain with her family. Such, however, was the\nfeeling against her, that she was compelled to leave the State. If these\nproceedings against her were just, swift was the punishment which\novertook the traitress, for she never realized the brilliant position\nwhich she hoped to achieve by going over to the king's side, and has\nleft only infamy as a legacy to the future. But if she were, indeed, as\ninnocent as we have good reason for hoping was the case, it is\nmelancholy to think of her gentle soul being crushed beneath the weight\nof retribution which fell upon her husband, and thus also upon her.\n\n\n\n\n MORGAN'S PRAYER.\n\n\nThere never was a man so bold that his soul has not, at times, felt its\nown powerlessness, and silently appealed to the mighty God for a\nstrength to sustain it in the hour of need. Daniel Morgan, as rough and\nself-reliant as he was brave, did not hesitate to confess that more than\nonce in the hour of approaching trial, when the weight of responsibility\nwas more than he could bear, he threw off the burden of his cares and\nfears at His feet who bears the destinies of the universe.\n\n\"Ah,\" said he, on one occasion, \"people thought that Morgan was never\nafraid\u2014people said that 'Dan Morgan never prayed.' I'll tell you what it\nis, Daniel Morgan, as wicked as he was, has prayed as hard and as\nearnestly as ever a man prayed in this world.\"\n\nWe look back now with pride to the victory of the Cowpens, which was one\nof Morgan's most glorious achievements. But before that battle was\nfought, while it was being decided upon and prepared for, one of those\nmoments occurred to the intrepid leader, of inward dismay and trouble,\nwhich it would never do to disclose to his men, looking to him for\ndirection and example. It is not strange that his soul was troubled. His\nwhole command consisted of not more than six hundred men\u2014three hundred\ninfantry under Lieutenant-Colonel Howard, two hundred Virginia riflemen,\nand about one hundred gallant dragoons under Colonel Washington. With\nthis little band he was retreating, with consummate prudence, before the\n\"haughty Tarleton,\" who had been sent by Cornwallis, to force him into\naction, with eleven hundred veteran soldiers, besides two field-pieces\nwell served by artillerists. Tarleton had light and legion infantry,\nfusileers, three hundred and fifty cavalry, and a fine battalion of the\nSeventy-First regiment; he promised himself an easy victory over the\nAmerican \"wagoner,\" as well he might, with the forces at his disposal.\n\nBoldly he pursued the retreating enemy, expecting to overtake only to\ndestroy him. But he had now to encounter a General who had braved the\nsnows of Camden, had scaled the walls of Quebec, and had faced the\nlegions of Burgoyne. With the greatest prudence, Morgan retreated until\nhe reached the memorable field of Cowpens, near one of the branches of\nthe Pacolet river. Here, in the face of superior numbers, as well as\nsuperior arms and discipline, he resolved to make a stand. He\ncommunicated his design to his inferior officers, who with ready spirit\nprepared the minds of their men for the combat. These, hating the\nBritish for their late oppressions, burning with the love of liberty and\nthe desire for revenge, and placing implicit confidence in the wisdom of\nthe General who ordered the battle, declared themselves ready for the\nfray.\n\nMorgan's arrangement was simple but masterly, showing a perfect\nknowledge of the character both of his own force and that of Tarleton.\nIn the open wood which formed the Cowpens, he established three lines.\nThe first consisted of the militia under Colonel Pickens, a brave\nofficer who had been recently relieved from captivity among the English.\nThe next line embraced all the regular infantry and the Virginia\nriflemen, and was commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Howard. The third was\nformed by Washington's dragoons, and about fifty mounted militia armed\nwith pistols and swords. Knowing that the militia, though full of\ncourage, were liable to panics, Morgan directed that the first line, if\noverpowered, should gradually retire and form on the right and left of\nthe second.\n\nThus prepared, he awaited the attack of the foe, who had come up, and\nwas rapidly forming in the front. His face did not betray the\ntrepidation of his heart. He knew how much depended upon the result, and\nwhen he looked upon his own small army, composed of such rude material,\nwretchedly equipped and but poorly disciplined, and his gaze wandered\nthrough the open forest and rested upon veteran troops with whom he was\nabout to contend, his heart failed him. Not daring to betray his\ndespondency to those who looked up to him for the courage so much\nneeded, in that solitary and friendless hour, when even the brave\nofficers by his side could give no comfort to his mental trouble, the\nrough, heroic General made God his friend and adviser. In a quiet dell\njust back of the spot where his reserve was posted, he found a large\ntree which had been blown up by the roots. Hidden by the branches of\nthis giant of the forest, he threw himself upon his knees before the\nLord of battles, beseeching Him to wield the lance of delivery on the\nside of those who were fighting for their homes, their families and\ntheir liberties. With an impulsive force characteristic of his nature,\nhe wrestled with his Maker, with an energy of spirit and a power of\nlanguage scarcely to be expected in one so unused to the \"melting mood.\"\nRising from his knees with feelings relieved, and an oppressive weight\ntaken from his soul, he returned to the lines, where he cheered his men\nin his own blunt, impulsive manner, and was replied to by shouts and\nhuzzas which showed on their part a determination to do or die.\n\nWhen Tarleton found his foe drawn up in battle order, he rejoiced in the\nhope of a speedy victory, and though his troops were somewhat fatigued\nby a rapid march, he gave orders for a charge. Before his first line was\nperfectly formed, he placed himself at its head, and in person rushed to\nthe onset. Colonel Pickens ordered his men not to fire until their\nadversaries were within fifty yards, and their fire was delivered with\ngreat steadiness and severe effect. But so impetuous was the British\ncharge, that the militia gave way, and attempted to form on the second\nline.\n\nAt the head of his fusileers and legion, Tarleton pressed upon the\nregulars and riflemen, who, notwithstanding their stern resistance, were\nborne down by numbers, and forced to yield their ground. The British\nregarded their victory as secured, and for a moment the hearts of the\nrepublicans failed. But Morgan was everywhere, encouraging his men by\nhis voice and presence. At this time, when their very success had caused\nsome confusion among the fusileers, Washington, at the head of his\ndragoons, made a furious charge, and dashing in among them, overthrew\nthem in a moment. His horses passed over the British infantry like a\nstorm, and the swords of his men hewed them down with resistless fury.\nIn this happy crisis Howard succeeded in restoring the Continentals to\norder, while Pickens rallied the militia, and brought them again into\nline.\n\n \"By the wind the smoke-cloud lifted lightly drifted to the nor'ward,\n And displayed, in all their pride, the scarlet foe;\n We beheld them, with a steady tramp and fearless moving forward,\n With their banners proudly waving, and their bayonets leveled low.\n\n \"Morgan gave his order clearly: 'Fall back nearly to the border\n Of the hill, and let the enemy come nigher!'\n Oh, they thought we had retreated, and they charged in fierce\n disorder,\n When out rang the voice of Howard: 'To the right, about face! fire!'\n\n \"Then upon our very wheeling came the pealing of our volley,\n And our balls made a red pathway down the hill;\n Broke the foe, and shrunk and cowered; rang again the voice of Howard:\n 'Give the hireling dogs the bayonet!' and we did it with a will.\"\n\nStruck with astonishment at finding themselves thus assaulted by men\nthey had just regarded as defeated, the English troops wavered and broke\nin disorder. In vain their officers endeavored to rally them for a\nrenewed stand. The spirits of the patriots were roused, and pressing\nforward with their bayonets, they carried every thing before them.\nNearly two hundred of Tarleton's horse, and among them the haughty\nTarleton himself, retreated in dismay from the field, riding over their\ncomrades and involving them in hopeless confusion. The Americans gained\nthe two field-pieces, and Colonel Howard, coming up with a large body of\ninfantry, and summoning them to surrender, they laid down their arms on\nthe field. The rout of the British was complete; a more signal victory\nour forces had never obtained. Washington and his horse followed the\nflying foe for several hours; Tarleton himself narrowly escaped falling\ninto the hands of his determined pursuer.\n\nMay we not safely conjecture that after this brilliant success Morgan\nreturned thanks to the Lord of victories as ardently as he had implored\nhim for aid?\n\nOn another occasion, previous to this, Morgan had knelt in the snows of\nCanada, to beseech the blessing of God upon an undertaking as important\nas it was arduous. It was in 1775. Montgomery was already in Canada,\nwhere partial success had crowned his arms; but the capture of Quebec\nwas deemed all-important, and to insure it, Washington resolved to send\na detachment across the unexplored country between the province of Maine\nand the St. Lawrence River. To form any idea of the difficulty of this\nroute it must be remembered that the whole of that region was then\ncovered by gloomy forests, in which even the red-man could hardly find\nsubsistence, and that in the winter season the country was bound in ice\nand snow. To command the expedition, Colonel Benedict Arnold was\nselected, and Morgan, then a Captain, eagerly sought a service so\ncongenial to his habits and character.\n\nThe whole detachment consisted of eleven hundred men, who were formed\ninto three divisions. After ascending the Kennebec as far as it was\nnavigable, they were forced to take the forest roads. Morgan, at the\nhead of his riflemen, formed the vanguard, upon whom devolved the duty\nof exploring the country, sounding the fords, pioneering for his\ncompanions, and seeking out spots where the bateaux might again be\nemployed in the streams. They were then forced to pass through forests\nwhere men had never dwelt, to scale rugged hills, to contend with\ntorrents swollen with the snow-storms of that region, to wade through\nmarshes which threatened to ingulf them. Not only the baggage of the\narmy, but often their boats were borne upon their shoulders at those\nplaces where the river was frozen, or where rapids and cataracts impeded\ntheir progress. The sufferings of this devoted band can not be\nexaggerated. No subsistence could be obtained from the country, and to\ntheir other trials was added that of famine. They were driven to feed\nupon their dogs, and even upon the leather of their shoes, before they\nreached the first settlement of Canadians, and astonished them by their\naccount of their achievements.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n General Morgan Praying\u2014_Page_ 38.\n]\n\nThe spirit which endured such trials was the best surety of their\nsuccess. But reinforcements had been received in Quebec. The garrison\nwas prepared, and Arnold, after making some demonstrations, retired to\nPoint au Tremble, twenty miles distant, to await the coming of\nMontgomery. When the two forces were joined, they were yet inadequate to\nthe attack of the strongest fortress in America; but the hero who now\ncommanded the Americans could not endure the thought of retreat.\n\nOn the last day of the year 1775, in the midst of a furious snowstorm,\nthe memorable attack was made. On this occasion it was, as Morgan\nconfessed afterward, that he was \"afraid\"\u2014but fear, to his nature, was\nnot a passion which weakened him, but which urged him on. It was not for\nhimself, personally, that he was afraid; no, he dreaded the effect of a\ndefeat upon his country; he could not see, without shrinking, his brave\nfriends and comrades rushing upon what seemed like death in the land of\nthe enemy. In his own words we have his thoughts:\n\n\"The night we stormed Quebec, while I was waiting with my men, in the\ncold, driving storm, for the word to advance, I felt unhappy; I looked\nup at the frowning battlements above me, and then around upon my armful\nof men, and felt that the enterprise was more than perilous; I felt that\nnothing short of a miracle could prevent our being destroyed in a\ncontest where we fought at such an immense disadvantage. With such\nfeelings I stepped aside, and kneeling down in the snow, alongside an\nold gun, with the storm beating into my face, I poured out my soul in an\nhumble petition to God, beseeching him to be my shield and protection in\nthe coming struggle\u2014for nothing but an Almighty arm could save us\u2014and I\nreally and sincerely feel that I owed my safety to the interposition of\nProvidence, and I thought so at the time.\"\n\nIn the attack which followed, and which was unsuccessful, Morgan did all\nthat a brave man could do. He scaled the walls of the fortress, and\nsprung down alone amid the surprised garrison, though speedily followed\nby numbers of his men. The enemy, appalled by such heroism, fell back to\nthe second barrier, and here, had he been properly supported, Morgan\nmight have been again successful; but the men had rendered their guns\nuseless; the riflemen who had followed him were unsupported; to face a\ndouble row of bayonets and climb a wall was beyond the power of the most\ndesperately brave. After an obstinate resistance Morgan and his corps\nwere forced to surrender.\n\nSo much did Morgan's bravery impress the English, that, when a prisoner\nin their hands, he was offered the rank of Colonel in the English\nservice, and many persuasive reasons were given why he should accept it.\nIt need not be said that he rejected the temptation with scorn.\n\nGeneral Daniel Morgan was born of Welch parentage, in New Jersey, in the\nyear 1736. Like so many of our most illustrious heroes, he was a\n\"self-made man.\" His family, which belonged to the \"middle class,\" had\nan interest in some Virginia lands, to attend to which he visited that\ncolony when about seventeen years old. Glowing with health, and full of\nthat love of adventure which always characterized him, he determined to\nremain in Virginia, and begin the business of life for himself. He had\nmoney enough for the purchase of a wagon and pair of horses. With these\nhe entered upon the employment which gave him the name of the \"wagoner\"\nlong after he had risen to military fame. He remained near Winchester\nfor about two years. When General Braddock's army commenced its march\nagainst Fort Duquesne it was accompanied by several corps of provincial\ntroops. Morgan, the \"ruling passion\" thus early displaying itself,\njoined one of these corps. He drove his own team in the baggage-train.\nOn the way occurred one of those instances, too frequent in military\nexperience, where the power of an officer is used with meanness and\ntyranny against the soldier in his power. The ruggedness of the way\ncausing much trouble with the train, and Morgan's team becoming impeded,\nalong with many others, a British officer approached him, and, with much\nimpatience demanded why he did not move along. He replied that he would\nmove as soon as he was able. The officer, yielding to his irritable\ntemper, with unmerited harshness declared that if he did not move along\nhe would run him through with his sword. The high spirit of the\nwagoner-boy could not brook this insult; he gave a fierce reply, when\nthe officer at once made a pass at him with his weapon. Morgan held in\nhis hand a heavy wagon-whip; parrying the stroke with the quickness of\nthought, he closed with his superior; the sword was broken in the\nstruggle; then, using his whip with the skill which long practice had\ngiven him, he inflicted upon the Englishman a severe castigation. Such a\nbreach of military law of course was not to be forgiven. Morgan was\ntried by a court-martial, which sentenced him to receive _five hundred_\nlashes. The sentence was carried into effect. The young victim bore this\nhorrible punishment with mute heroism, silently fainting from torture\nand exhaustion, while fifty lashes were yet in reserve, which were of\nnecessity remitted. Three days afterward, the officer who had been the\noccasion of this barbarity became convinced of his injustice, and,\nseeking Morgan in the camp hospital, implored his forgiveness. Through\nthis miserable occurrence, the brave young volunteer was disabled from\nduty, and escaped the danger and disgrace of Braddock's defeat.\n\nNot long after his return from this unhappy campaign, he was appointed\nan ensign in the colonial service. His merit had become apparent to the\nGovernment of the colony; already he had won the friendship of\nWashington, which afterward availed him on many trying occasions. His\nknown courage and activity caused him to be employed in the most\ndangerous services. On one occasion, accompanied by two soldiers, he was\ncarrying dispatches to one of the frontiers of Virginia, infested by\ncunning and ferocious savages. While in cautious progress through the\nforest, unaware that any eye was upon them, or any stealthy step\ntracking them fatally and silently, suddenly the discharge of rifles was\nheard; his two companions fell dead by his side. Morgan himself received\nthe only severe wound he ever had during his military career; a rifle\nball entered the back of his neck, and, shattering his jaw, passed out\nthrough his left cheek. Though he believed himself mortally wounded, his\npresence of mind did not fail. Leaning forward on his saddle, he grasped\nthe mane of his horse, and pressing the spurs into his sides, darted\nforward at full speed toward the fort. A single Indian followed him,\neager for his scalp. Morgan, in after years, often spoke of the\nappearance of this savage, who ran with his mouth open, and his tomahawk\nraised to strike the fatal blow. Finding his pursuit in vain, the Indian\nfinally threw the tomahawk with all his force, hoping it would hit the\nsoldier; but it fell short; the horse, with his bleeding rider, gained\nthe fort. Morgan was perfectly insensible when taken from the animal;\nbut proper treatment, and the vigor of his constitution, restored him to\nhealth in six months.\n\nFrom this time until the commencement of the Revolutionary War, he\nremained in Frederick, employed in his old business as a wagoner. At\nthis time, he was wild and reckless, proud of his immense strength,\ninclining to rough society, fond of the most rollicking pastimes, and\neven, it is said, frequenting the gaming-table. His nature was of that\nactive and superabundant kind, that he could not live without\n_excitement_; that which in times of idleness became a fault, or almost\na crime, leading him into wild excesses, was the same energy which, as\nsoon as there was a noble object for its exercise, sprung to the labor\nof defending liberty.\n\nIt is said that pugilistic encounters were his daily _pastime_\u2014such from\nthe fact that he was usually the victor. Few men of his time encountered\nhim without signal defeat. But though Morgan was generally successful,\nwe have an account of a reverse which he experienced, too salutary in\nthe lesson it inculcated to be lost. General Carson, of Frederick\ncounty, Virginia, where the affair took place, tells the anecdote as one\nentirely authentic:\n\n\"Passing along a road with his wagon, Morgan met a gentleman of refined\nmanners and appearance, who, as he approached the wagoner, had his hat\nstruck off by a bough overhead. This stopped him for a moment, and\nMorgan, thinking that the stranger felt undue pride in sustaining the\ncharacter of a gentleman, determined to humble him. Alighting from his\nhorse\u2014which he rode, teamster-fashion, instead of driving\u2014he addressed\nthe traveler:\n\n\"'Well, sir, if you want a fight, I'm ready for you!'\n\n\"The stranger, in amazement, assured him that he wanted no fight, and\nhad made no signals to such a purpose. But Morgan was not to be thus\nrepulsed, and urged a contest upon him, until the stranger, becoming\nenraged, in short terms accepted the challenge. The battle commenced. In\nbrief space the well-dressed man planted such a series of rapid and\nscientific blows upon Morgan's front, that he knocked him down, and\ninflicted upon him a severe chastisement. Morgan never forgot this\nreverse; he found that he was not the only man in the world\u2014that 'might\ndid not make right.' He often spoke of it afterward as having had a\nhappy effect upon his character.\"\n\nIn after years, he gained more dignity of character, these youthful\nebullitions merging into deeds of valor of which his country is proud.\n\nImmediately upon the breaking out of the Revolutionary War, he stood\nready to aid his country. Congress appointed him a Captain of\nprovincials, and so great was his reputation, that, in a short time\nafter his call for recruits, ninety-six riflemen were enrolled in his\ncompany. This was the nucleus of that celebrated rifle corps which\nrendered so much brilliant service during the war. It was composed of\nmen who had been trained in the forest, and who had each been accustomed\nto the use of his own rifle with wonderful skill. They were hardy in\nbody and dauntless in heart. From this time on, his career was one of\nglory, although the hardships which he suffered finally undermined his\nsplendid health, and forced him to retire, with the rank of\nMajor-General, to his estate near Winchester, called \"Saratoga,\" after\none of the places where he had distinguished himself.\n\nIt was here that he died in 1802, in the 67th year of his age. A\npasser-by would hardly notice the humble slab, of little pretension,\nwhich marks his grave in the Presbyterian church-yard, at Winchester;\nyet on it is inscribed a name which Americans will ever delight to\nhonor: \"The hero of Quebec, of Saratoga, and the Cowpens: the bravest\namong the brave, and the Ney of the West.\"\n\nIn Irving's Life of Washington we have read an amusing account of an\nimpromptu fray, one party to which was a corps of Virginia riflemen,\nvery likely to be those commanded by Morgan, in which it would appear as\nif the early habits of their leader had infected his men, and in which\nthe immortal Washington himself appears in a new and picturesque\nattitude. \"A large party of Virginia riflemen,\" says the author, \"who\nhad recently arrived in camp, were strolling about Cambridge, and\nviewing the collegiate buildings, now turned into barracks. Their\nhalf-Indian equipments, and fringed and ruffled hunting-garbs, provoked\nthe merriment of some troops from Marblehead, chiefly fishermen and\nsailors, who thought nothing equal to the round-jacket and trowsers. A\nbantering ensued between them. There was snow upon the ground, and\nsnow-balls began to fly when jokes were wanting. The parties waxed warm\nwith the contest. They closed and came to blows; both sides were\nreinforced, and in a little while at least a thousand were at\nfisticuffs, and there was a tumult in the camp worthy of the days of\nHomer. 'At this juncture,' writes our informant, 'Washington made his\nappearance, whether by accident or design, I never knew. I saw none of\nhis aids with him; his black servant just behind him, mounted. He threw\nthe bridle of his own horse into his servant's hands, sprung from his\nsaddle, rushed into the thickest of the _mel\u00e9e_, seized two tall, brawny\nriflemen by the throat, keeping them at arm's length, talking to and\nshaking them.' As they were from his own province, he may have felt\npeculiarly responsible for their good conduct; they were engaged, too,\nin one of those sectional brawls which were his especial abhorrence; his\nreprimand must, therefore, have been a vehement one. He was commanding\nin his serenest moments, but irresistible in his bursts of indignation.\nOn the present occasion, we are told, his appearance and rebuke put an\ninstant end to the tumult. The veteran who records this exercise of\nmilitary authority, seems at a loss which most to admire, the simplicity\nof the process, or the vigor with which it was administered. 'Here,'\nwrites he, 'bloodshed, imprisonments, trials by court-martial,\nrevengeful feelings between the different corps of the army, were\nhappily prevented by the physical and mental energies of a single\nperson, and the only damaging result from the fierce encounter was a few\ntorn hunting-frocks and round-jackets.'\"\n\nWe may well believe that what was done by Washington was well done, even\nto the stilling of this Homeric tumult.\n\nOccasions of great danger and trial were so frequent that the leaders of\nthe Revolution had recourse to prayer more frequently, we are led to\nbelieve, than history mentions. One anecdote is told of Washington's\nhaving been overheard supplicating at the throne of grace, but how can\nwe conceive the Father of his Country as other than the devout leader\nwho at all times felt and acknowledged the hand of Providence over him?\nThe anecdote specially referred to was related by Potts, the Quaker.\nDuring the winter of 1777, the Continental army was encamped at Valley\nForge\u2014a suffering, dispirited, yet still patriotic little host. Clothing\nwas scant, food was scarce, numbers were too few for opposing the\ntriumphant foe, and all things seemed to betoken a most inauspicious\nfuture for the patriot cause. Washington, outwardly firm, resolved, and\napparently not dissatisfied, was, as his correspondence shows, deeply\nconcerned for the result of the early spring campaign; and that, in his\nhour of trial, he prayed for aid from on high we can well believe.\n\nOne day, Potts had occasion to go to a certain place, which led him\nthrough a large grove, at no great distance from head-quarters. As he\nwas proceeding along, he thought he heard a noise. He stopped and\nlistened. He did hear the sound of a human voice at some distance, but\nquite indistinctly. As it was in the direct course he was pursuing, he\nwent on, but with some caution. Occasionally he paused and listened, and\nwith increasing conviction that he heard some one. At length he came\nwithin sight of a man, whose back was turned toward him, on his knees,\nin the attitude of prayer. It was a secluded spot\u2014a kind of natural\nbower; but it was the house of prayer. Potts now stopped, partly leaned\nforward, and watched till whoever it might be was through his devotions.\nThis was not long. And whom should he now see but Washington himself,\nthe commander of the American armies, returning from bending prostrate\nbefore the God of armies above.\n\nPotts himself was a pious man. He knew the power of prayer; and no\nsooner had he reached home, than in the fullness of his faith he broke\nforth to his wife Sarah, in the language of a watchman:\n\n\"Wife\u2014Sarah, my dear, all's well\u2014all's well! Yes, George Washington is\nsure to beat the British\u2014_sure_!\"\n\n\"What\u2014what's the matter with thee, Isaac?\" replied the startled Sarah.\n\"Thee seems to be much moved about something.\"\n\n\"Well, and what if I am moved? Who would not be moved at such a sight as\nI have seen to-day?\"\n\n\"And what has thee seen, Isaac?\"\n\n\"Seen! I've seen a man at prayer, in the woods\u2014George Washington\nhimself! And now I say\u2014just what I _have_ said\u2014'All's well; George\nWashington is sure to beat the British\u2014sure!'\"\n\nWhether Sarah's faith was as strong as Isaac's, we can not say; but\nPotts' logic was sound\u2014that in a _good_ cause, a man of prayer is sure\nto succeed\u2014SURE!\n\nThat Washington was a constant attendant upon divine worship, and a man\nof prayer, admits of no doubt. This was highly to his credit; for it too\noften happens that men in important stations think that their pressure\nof business will justly excuse them for neglecting all religious duties.\n\nIt is related of Washington, that in the French and Indian war, when he\nwas a Colonel, he used himself, in the absence of the chaplain, on the\nSabbath, to read the Scriptures to the soldiers of his regiment, and to\npray with them; and that more than once he was found on his knees in his\nmarquee at secret prayer.\n\nWhile at home at Mount Vernon, he was always punctual to go to church.\nSometimes he had distinguished men to visit him, and who he knew had no\ngreat regard for religion. This made no difference with his conduct. On\nsuch occasions he regularly attended church, and invited them to\naccompany him.\n\nDuring his residence in Philadelphia, as President of the United States,\nhe was a constant attendant at the house of God, on the Sabbath; thus\nsetting a becoming example to others in authority. And it has often been\nremarked, that in all his public messages to Congress, he was particular\nto allude in some appropriate manner to God's overruling providence, and\nhis sense of his own and the nation's dependence upon divine favor, for\nindividual and national prosperity.\n\nThe greatness of Washington was conceded even more fully by the great\nthan by the \"common herd\" of mankind. Bonaparte paid a tribute to the\nAmerican's fame scarcely to be exceeded for its terms of admiration.\n\n\"Ah, gentlemen,\" the French General exclaimed to some young Americans\nhappening at Toulon, and anxious to see the mighty Corsican, had\nobtained the honor of an introduction to him, \"how fares your\ncountryman, the great Washington?\"\n\n\"He was very well,\" replied the youths, brightening at the thought that\nthey were the countrymen of Washington, \"he was very well, General, when\nwe left America.\"\n\n\"Ah, gentlemen,\" rejoined he, \"Washington can never be otherwise than\nwell. The measure of _his_ fame is full. Posterity will talk of him with\nreverence as the founder of a great empire, when my name shall be lost\nin the vortex of revolutions.\"\n\nThis recalls the celebrated \"toast scene\" wherein Dr. Franklin \"paid his\nrespects\" to the English and French. It is thus recited:\n\nLong after Washington's victories over the French and English had made\nhis name familiar to all Europe, Dr. Franklin chanced to dine with the\nEnglish and French embassadors, when the following toasts were drunk. By\nthe British embassador: \"England\u2014the sun, whose bright beams enlighten\nand fructify the remotest corners of the earth.\" The French embassador,\nglowing with national pride, but too polite to dispute the previous\ntoast, drank: \"France\u2014the _moon_, whose mild, steady and cheering rays\nare the delight of all nations, consoling them in darkness, and making\ntheir dreariness beautiful.\"\n\nDr. Franklin then rose, and with his usual dignified simplicity, said:\n\"_George Washington\u2014the Joshua, who commanded the sun and moon to stand\nstill, and they obeyed him._\"\n\nWe could fill many pages with anecdotes of Washington, illustrative of\nhis goodness, his real, _heart_ piety, his reliance on an overruling\nProvidence; but will not, at this time, devote more space to the theme,\npromising ourselves the pleasures of again recurring to the truly august\nsubject.\n\n\n\n\n THE JOHNSON BOYS KILLING THEIR CAPTORS.\n\n\nThe father of the little heroes whose daring exploit is here\nillustrated, removed from Pennsylvania in 1786, or thereabouts, and\nsettled on what was called Beech-bottom Flats, in the State of Ohio,\nsome two miles from the Ohio River, and three or four miles above the\nmouth of Short Creek. In common with all the early settlers of that\nState, Johnson was subject to the depredations of the Indians, who felt\nthat the white men were encroaching upon their hunting-grounds, and did\nnot hesitate to inflict upon them the fullest measure of vengeance.\nProtected by the station, or fort, near which they resided, the family\nenjoyed, however, a tolerable share of security.\n\nOne Sunday morning, in the fall of 1793, two of his sons\u2014John, aged\nthirteen, and Henry, eleven\u2014started for the woods to look for a hat\nwhich the younger had lost the previous evening, while out after the\ncows. Having found the hat, they started for home, but coming to the\nfoot of a hickory tree, whose tempting fruit lay in bounteous profusion\non the ground before them, they, boylike, and dreaming neither of\nIndians nor of any other danger, sat down on a fallen log and amused\nthemselves cracking and eating nuts. While thus engaged, they observed\ntwo men approaching from the direction of the station, who, from their\ndress and appearance, they took to be neighbors, seeking for strayed\nhorses, one of them having a bridle in his hand. Satisfied of this fact,\nthey continued their employment, until the men had approached quite near\nto them, when, upon looking up, they discovered, to their horror, that\nthey were Indians, dressed in the garb of white men. Their first impulse\nwas to fly; but upon rising to their feet, one of the intruders\npresented his rifle, and told them to stop or he would shoot. Coming up\nto them, the other presented his hand, and said: \"How do, brodder?\" The\noldest boy, John, immediately\u2014instinctively, as it were\u2014called into\nrequisition a tact perfectly astonishing in such a child. Accepting the\nsavage's hand, he shook it with a smile, asking with apparently pleased\ncuriosity if they were Indians. Their captors replied that they were,\ntelling the boys that they must go with them. Concealing their feelings\nof fear and distress, the little fellows submitted, and took up their\nline of march for the wilderness, not without the most poignant emotions\nat thus being rudely torn from their home and parents. They had heard\nenough, young as they were, of Indian captivity, to guess what was in\nstore for them\u2014that, even at the very best, there would be years of\nwild, uncivilized life before them, should they be spared to live at\nall. But hiding the sinking of his heart, the oldest took the small\nbuckskin bag which was given him to carry, with outward cheerfulness,\nand entered with spirit into the search of the Indians after the horses\nof the white men. The bag, from its weight, he supposed to contain\nmoney, the product of their depredations upon the white community.\n\nThe Indians and their captives spent the afternoon in pursuit of horses,\ntaking a circuitous route through the bottom and over the Short Creek\nhill; but evening approaching without their meeting with success, they\ndrew off some distance into the woods, in search of some place to camp.\n\nComing to a spring in a hollow, which answered their purpose, they\nhalted; and while one of them scouted around the camp, the other\nproceeded to build a fire, by flashing his gun into some dry \"tinder\"\nwood. While the latter was gone to procure the wood from a decayed\nstump, John took up the gun he had left behind, and cocked it, with the\nintention of shooting him as he came back; but Henry stopped him, for\nfear the other might be near, and able to overpower them, at the same\ntime promising to aid his brother if he would wait until the Indians\nwere asleep.\n\nAfter they had cooked their supper, and eaten it by the fire, the\nsavages began to converse apart in their own tongue. The result of their\ncouncil soon became painfully apparent to the boys. Drawing their\nknives, they began to whet them, at the same time continuing their\ndiscussion, with occasional sidelong glances at the boys. Seeing this,\nwith that remarkable discretion which had hitherto marked his conduct,\nJohn entered into conversation with them, in the course of which he\nremarked that he led a hard life with his parents, who were cross to\nhim, and made him work hard, giving him no chance for play. For his\npart, he liked to hunt and fish, and when he got to their towns, he\nmeant to be a warrior and live with them. This pleased the Indians, and\nled to further converse, during which one of them asked the boys which\nway home was. John, who assumed to be spokesman, answered, always\npointing the wrong way, which led them to believe that their captives\nhad lost their reckoning. The business of sharpening the knives was\nsuspended, and John's bright eyes, smiling but anxious, were not sorry\nto see them restored to the belts of the wearers.\n\nThe Indians, although pleased and conciliated, were careful not to trust\ntheir little prisoners too far, but pinioned their arms, and when they\nlaid down to sleep for the night, placed the boys between them, secured\nby a large strap, which passed under their own bodies. Late in the\nnight, one of the savages, becoming cold, stirred in his sleep, caught\nhold of John in his arms, and turned him over to the outside, soon\nrelapsing into sound slumber with the renewed warmth thus obtained. In\nthis situation the boy, awake and alert, found means to get his hands\nloose; he then nudged his brother, made him get up, and untied his arms.\nThis done, Henry thought of nothing but of running off as fast as\npossible; but when about to start, his brother caught hold of him,\nwhispering: \"We must kill these Indians before we go.\" After some\nhesitation, Henry agreed to make the attempt. John took one of the\nrifles of their captors, and placed it on a log with the muzzle close to\nthe head of one of them. He then cocked the gun, and placed his little\nbrother at the breech with his finger on the trigger, with instructions\nto pull it as soon as he should strike the other Indian. He then took\none of the tomahawks, and placed himself astride the second foe. All\nthis time the savages slumbered on in their fancied security. That\nmoment he gave the word to fire, while he brought the tomahawk down with\nall the force of his young arm upon his sleeping enemy. The blow,\nhowever, fell upon the back of the neck and to one side, so as not to be\nfatal; the wounded savage attempted to spring up, but the little fellow,\nurged to desperation, plied his blows with such force and rapidity upon\nthe Indian's skull, that, to use his own words in describing it, \"the\nIndian laid still and began to quiver.\"\n\nAt the moment of the first stroke given by the elder brother, the\nyounger one pulled the trigger, as directed; but his shot was not more\nfatal than the other's blow, for he only succeeded in blowing off a\nlarge part of his antagonist's lower jaw. This Indian, an instant after\nreceiving the wound, began to flounce about and yell in the most\nfrightful manner. The boys were glad to abandon him to his fate. They\nmade the best of their way to the fort, reaching it a little before\ndaybreak. On getting near the station, they found the people all up, and\na great anxiety on their account. On hearing a woman exclaim: \"Poor\nlittle fellows, they are killed or taken prisoners!\" the eldest one\nanswered: \"No, mother, we are here yet!\"\n\nHaving brought away nothing from the Indian camp, their relation was not\ncredited, and a party was made up to go in search of its truth. On\narriving at the camp, they found the Indian whom John had tomahawked,\ndead; the other had crawled away, leaving a heavy, bloody trail, by\nwhich he was traced to the top of a fallen tree, where he had ensconced\nhimself, determined to sell his life dearly. At the approach of the\nparty he attempted to fire upon them; but his gun flashed in the pan;\nand one of the men remarking that he \"didn't care about being killed by\na dead Injin,\" they left him to die of his wounds. His skeleton and gun\nwere found, some time afterward, near the spot. It was conjectured that\nthe bag of specie which the Indians had, was appropriated by one of the\nsettlers, who had slipped off in advance upon hearing the story of the\nboys. For some time after this person seemed better supplied with money\nthan he had ever been before.\n\nThe story of the heroism of the little warriors got abroad, and even the\nIndians themselves gave them credit for it. After the treaty with\nGeneral Wayne, an old Indian, who was a friend of the two who were\nkilled (and who, it seems, had been distinguished warriors), inquired of\na man from Short Creek what they had done with the two young braves who\nhad killed the Indians. Being answered that they lived at the same place\nwith their parents, he replied: \"Then you have not done right; you\nshould have made kings of those boys.\"\n\nThere are a good many stories told of those early days, far pleasanter\nfor the boys of this generation to read in safety, by the comfortable\nwinter fire, than it was for the hardy and sagacious little heroes to\nenact them.\n\nIn August, 1786, a lad by the name of Downing, who lived at a fort near\nSlate Creek, in what is now Bath county, was requested by an older\ncompanion to assist him in hunting for a horse which had strayed away\nthe preceding evening. Downing readily complied, and the two friends\nsearched in every direction, until at length they found themselves in a\nwild valley, some six or seven miles from the fort. Here Downing became\nalarmed, and repeatedly told his companion, Yates, that he heard sticks\ncracking behind them, and was certain that Indians were dogging them.\nYates, an old backwoods-man, laughed at the fears of the boy, and\ncontemptuously asked him at what price be rated his scalp, offering to\ninsure it for sixpence. Downing, however, was not so easily satisfied.\nHe observed that in whatever direction they turned, the same ominous\nsounds continued to haunt them, and as Yates continued to treat the\nmatter recklessly, he resolved to take measures for his own safety.\nGradually slackening his pace, he permitted Yates to advance twenty or\nthirty steps ahead, and immediately afterward, as they descended the\nslope of a gentle hill, Downing slipped aside and hid himself in a thick\ncluster of whortleberry bushes. Yates proceeded on, singing carelessly\nsome rude song, and was soon out of sight. Scarcely had he disappeared,\nwhen Downing beheld two savages put aside the stalks of a cane-brake,\nand cautiously look out in the direction Yates had taken. Fearful that\nthey had seen him step aside, he determined to fire upon them, and trust\nto his heels for safety; but so unsteady was his hand, that in raising\nhis gun to his shoulder, it went off before he had taken aim. He\nimmediately ran, and after proceeding about fifty yards, met Yates, who\nhad hastily retraced his steps. The enemy were then in full view, and\nthe woodsman, who might have outstripped the lad, graduated his steps to\nthose of his companion. The Indians, by taking a shorter path, gained\nrapidly upon the fugitives, across whose way lay a deep gully. Yates\neasily cleared it, but Downing dropped short, and fell at full length\nupon the bottom. The savages, eager to capture Yates, continued the\npursuit, without appearing to notice Downing, who, quickly recovering\nhis strength, began to walk slowly up the ditch, fearing to leave it,\nlest the enemy should see him. He had scarcely emerged into the open\nground before he saw one of the Indians returning, apparently in quest\nof him. His gun being unloaded, Downing threw it away, and again took to\nflight; but his pursuer gained on him so rapidly, that he lost all hope\nof escape. Coming at length to a large poplar, which had been blown up\nby the roots, he ran along the body of the tree on one side, while the\nIndian ran along the other, expecting to intercept his game at the root.\nBut here fortune favored the latter in the most singular manner. A\nshe-bear which was suckling her cubs in a bed at the root of the tree,\nsuddenly sprung upon the Indian, and while the latter was yelling and\nstabbing his hirsute antagonist with his knife, Downing succeeded in\nreaching the fort, where he found Yates reposing after a hot chase, in\nwhich he, also, had distanced his pursuers.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n The Johnson Boys Killing their Captors.\n]\n\nWhether the bear or the Indian came off victor in the impromptu\nengagement so suddenly entered into, the historian sayeth not.\n\nIn the following narrative, the incidents of which are included in the\nHistory of the State of Kentucky, will be noticed the fortitude of\nanother little hero, who, in the midst of appalling circumstances,\nreceived two severe wounds, one of which must have been extremely\npainful, yet who made no sign\u2014would not even allow it to be known that\nhe was injured, until the conflict was over.\n\nIn March, 1788, Captain William Hubbell, floating down the Ohio River in\nhis flat-boat, on his return from the east, after leaving Pittsburg, saw\ntraces of Indians along the banks of the stream, which excited his\nsuspicions and increased his watchfulness. On the boat, besides Captain\nHubbell, were Daniel Light, and William Plascut and his family. Before\nreaching the mouth of the Great Kanawha, their number was increased to\ntwenty, among whom were Ray, Tucker and Kilpatrick, also two daughters\nof the latter, a man by the name of Stoner, an Irishman, and a German.\nInformation at Gallipolis confirmed their previous expectation of a\nconflict with a large body of Indians; Captain Hubbell therefore made\nevery preparation to resist the anticipated attack. The men, divided\ninto three watches for the night, were alternately on the look-out for\ntwo hours at a time. The arms on board unfortunately consisted mainly of\nold muskets much out of order. These were put in the best possible\ncondition for service.\n\nOn the 23d, Hubbell's party overtook a fleet of six boats descending the\nriver in company, and, for mutual protection, at first concluded to join\nthem. Finding them, however, a careless, noisy set of people, more\nintent on dancing than watching for Indians, Hubbell determined to push\nforward alone. One of the six boats, desirous of keeping up with\nHubbell, pushed forward for a short time; but its crew at length dropped\nasleep, and it was soon left in the rear. Early in the night, a canoe\nwas seen flying down the river, in which probably were Indians on the\nwatch. Fires and other signs also were observed, which indicated the\npresence of a formidable body of the savages.\n\nAt daybreak, before the men were at their posts, a voice some distance\nbelow repeatedly solicited them, in a plaintive tone, to come on shore,\nrepresenting that some white persons wished to take a passage in their\nboat. This the Captain naturally concluded to be an Indian artifice. He\naccordingly placed every man upon his guard. The voice of entreaty soon\nwas changed into insult, and the sound of distant paddles announced the\napproach of the savage foe. Three Indian canoes were seen through the\nmist rapidly advancing. With the utmost coolness, the Captain and his\ncompanions prepared to receive them. Every man was ordered not to fire\nuntil the savages came nearly up to the boat; the men, also, were\ndirected to fire in succession, that there might be no intervals.\n\nThe canoes were found to contain from twenty-five to thirty Indians\neach. When within musket-shot, they poured in a general fire from one of\nthe canoes, by which Tucker and Light were wounded. The three canoes now\nplaced themselves on the bow, stern and side of the boat, opening a\nraking fire upon the whites; but the steady firing from the boat had a\npowerful effect in checking the confidence and the fury of the savages.\nHubbell, after firing his own gun, took up that of one of the wounded\nmen, and was in the act of discharging it when a ball tore away the\nlock. He deliberately seized a brand of fire, and, applying it to the\npan, discharged it with effect. When in the act of raising his gun a\nthird time, a ball passed through his right arm, which for a moment\ndisabled him. Seeing this, the savages rushed for the boat, to board it.\nSeverely wounded as he was, Hubbell rushed to the bow, and assisted in\nforcing the enemy off, by the discharge of a pair of horse pistols, and\nby billets of wood. Meeting with so desperate a resistance, the Indians\nat length discontinued the contest, for the moment.\n\nThe boat which Hubbell had recently left behind now appearing in sight,\nthe canoes rushed toward it. They boarded it without opposition, killed\nCaptain Greathouse and a lad, placed the women in the center of their\ncanoes, and then manning them with a fresh reinforcement from the shore,\nagain pursued Hubbell and his party. The melancholy alternative now\npresented itself to these brave but desponding men, either of falling a\nprey to the savages, or to run the risk of shooting the white women in\nthe canoes, purposely placed there by the Indians, in the hope of\nobtaining protection by their presence. Hubbell, well knowing how little\nmercy was to be expected if the savages were victorious, did not\nhesitate. He resolved to war to the last.\n\nThere were now but four men left on board of the boat capable of\ndefending it. The Captain himself was severely wounded in two places.\nYet the second attack was resisted with incredible firmness. Whenever\nthe Indians would rise to fire, the whites would, commonly, give them\nthe first shot, which in almost every instance would prove fatal.\nNotwithstanding the disparity of numbers and the exhausted condition of\nHubbell's party, the Indians, despairing of success, retired to the\nshore. Just as the last canoe was departing, Hubbell called to the\nIndian chief in the stern, and on his turning round, discharged his\npiece at him. When the smoke was dissipated, the savage was seen lying\non his back, severely, perhaps mortally, wounded.\n\nUnfortunately, the boat had drifted near to shore, where the Indians\nwere collected, and a large concourse, probably between four and five\nhundred, were seen rushing down on the bank. Ray and Plascut, the only\nmen remaining unhurt, took to the oars. As the boat was not more than\ntwenty yards from shore, it was deemed prudent for them to lie down, and\nattempt to paddle out into the river with the utmost practicable\nrapidity. While thus covered, nine balls were shot into one oar, and ten\ninto the other, without wounding the rowers, who were protected by the\nside of the boat and the blankets in its stern. During this exposure to\nthe fire, which continued about twenty minutes, Kilpatrick observed a\nparticular Indian, whom he thought a favorable mark for his rifle, and,\ndespite the solemn warning of Captain Hubbell, rose to shoot the savage.\nHe immediately received a ball in his mouth, which passed out at the\nback part of his head, and was, almost at the same moment, shot through\nthe heart. He fell among the horses that about the same time were\nkilled, presenting to his afflicted daughters and fellow travelers, who\nwere witnesses of the awful occurrence, a spectacle of horror which it\nwere impossible to describe.\n\nThe boat, providentially, was then suddenly carried out into the stream,\nbeyond reach of the enemy's balls. The little band, reduced in numbers,\nwounded, afflicted, and almost exhausted by fatigue, still were\nunsubdued in spirit, and being assembled in all their strength, men,\nwomen and children, with an appearance of triumph gave three hearty\ncheers, calling to the Indians to come on again if they were fond of the\nsport.\n\nThus ended this stubborn conflict, in which only two out of nine men\nescaped unhurt. Tucker and Kilpatrick were killed on the spot, Stoner\nwas mortally wounded, and died on his arrival at Limestone, and all the\nrest, excepting Ray and Plascut, were severely wounded. The women and\nchildren all were uninjured, excepting a little son of Mr. Plascut, who,\nafter the battle was over, came to the Captain, and with great coolness\nrequested him to take a ball out of his head. On examination, it\nappeared that a bullet, which had passed through the side of the boat,\nhad penetrated the forehead of this little hero, and still remained\nunder the skin. The Captain took it out, when the youth, observing,\n\"That is not all,\" raised his arm, and exhibited a piece of bone at the\npoint of his elbow, which had been shot off, and hung only by the skin.\nHis mother exclaimed:\n\n\"Why did you not tell me of this?\"\n\n\"Because,\" he coolly replied, \"the Captain directed us to be silent\nduring the action, and I thought you would be likely to make a noise if\nI told you.\"\n\nHere was true _pluck_.\n\nThe boat made its way down the river as rapidly as possible, the object\nbeing to reach Limestone that night. The Captain, tormented by\nexcruciating pain, and faint through loss of blood, was under the\nnecessity of steering the boat with his left arm, till about ten o'clock\nthat night, when he was relieved by William Brooks, who resided on the\nbank of the river, and who was induced by the calls of the suffering\nparty to come out to their assistance. By his aid, and that of some\nother persons, who were in the same manner brought to their relief, the\nparty was enabled to reach Limestone about twelve o'clock that night. On\nthe arrival of Brooks, Captain Hubbell, relieved from labor and\nresponsibility, sunk under the weight of pain and fatigue, and became\nfor a while totally insensible. When the boat reached Limestone, he\nfound himself unable to walk, and was carried up to the tavern. Here he\ncontinued several days, until he acquired sufficient strength to proceed\nhomeward.\n\nOn the arrival of Hubbell's party at Limestone, they found a\nconsiderable force of armed men ready to march against the Indians. They\nnow learned that, on the Sunday preceding, these very same savages had\ncut off a detachment of men ascending the Ohio from Fort Washington, at\nthe mouth of Licking River, and had killed with their tomahawks, without\nfiring a gun, twenty-one out of twenty-two men, of which the detachment\nconsisted!\n\nCrowds of people, as might be expected, came to examine the boat which\nhad been the scene of so much heroism and such horrid carnage, and to\nvisit the resolute little band by whom it had been so gallantly\ndefended. On examination, it was found that the sides of the boat were\nliterally filled with bullets and bullet-holes. There was scarcely a\nspace of two feet square in the part above water, which had not either a\nball remaining in it, or a hole through which a ball had passed. Some\npersons who had the curiosity to count the number of holes in the\nblankets which were hung up as curtains in the stern of the boat,\naffirmed that in the space of five feet square there were one hundred\nand twenty-two. Four horses out of five were killed. The escape of the\nfifth, amidst such a shower of balls, appears almost miraculous.\n\nThe day after the arrival of Captain Hubbell and his companions, the\nfive boats passed on the night preceding the battle reached Limestone.\nThe Indians, it would appear, had met with too formidable a resistance\nfrom a single boat to attack a fleet, and suffered them to pass\nunmolested. From that time, it is believed that no boat was assailed by\nIndians on the Ohio.\n\nThe force which marched out from Limestone to disperse this formidable\nbody of savages discovered several Indians dead on the shore, near the\nscene of action. They also found the bodies of Captain Greathouse and\nseveral others\u2014men, women and children\u2014who had been on board of his\nboat. Most of them appeared to have been _whipped to death_, as they\nwere found stripped, tied to trees, and marked with the appearance of\nlashes; and large rods, which seemed to have been worn with use, were\nobserved lying near them.\n\nIt is wonderful, when we consider the perils which beset the early\nsettlers, that Ohio, Kentucky and Indiana did not remain untenanted by\nwhite men. We can not open the history of the years, from 1787 to 1814,\nthat we do not find, upon almost every page, a story of suffering, of\nmiraculous escape, or of appalling death which everywhere seemed to be\nin store for the daring pioneer. In the course of this series of tales\nwe shall have occasion to repeat many of those stirring episodes, which\nwill be perused with commingled feelings of pain and admiration. Every\nyouth, and particularly every one dwelling west of the Alleghanies,\nshould study these episodes, and learn from them through what trials\ncame their blessings.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n Sweatland's Thrilling Hunting Adventure\u2014_Page_ 6.\n]\n\n\n\n\n TALES,\n\n TRADITIONS AND ROMANCE\n\n OF\n\n BORDER AND REVOLUTIONARY TIMES.\n\n A GREAT HUNTING ADVENTURE.\n COLONEL HORRY'S EXPLOITS.\n ELERSON'S FAMOUS RACE.\n MOLLY PITCHER AT MONMOUTH.\n\n NEW YORK\n BEADLE AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS,\n 118 WILLIAM STREET.\n\n\n\n\n Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by\n BEADLE AND COMPANY,\n In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for\n the Southern District of New York.\n\n\n\n\n A REMARKABLE\n HUNTING-EXCURSION.\n\n\nOn a September morning of the year 1817, Solomon Sweatland, of Conneaut,\non the Ohio shore of Lake Erie, had risen at earliest dawn to enjoy his\nfavorite amusement of hunting deer. Royal game was this, and hunted in\nroyal parks, which the dukes and princes of haughty old England might\nenvy, and, best of all, they were not barred from the poorest settler.\nThere was no punishment for \"poaching\" on the magnificent prairies, and\nin the glorious forests of the West. The men who there slung their\nrifles over their shoulders, and set out, careless whether they met a\nfawn or a panther, would have sneered at an English hunting-ground as a\nbit of a handkerchief which one of their favorite \"per-raries\" could\ntuck away in her pocket and never feel it. Men who can \"drive the nail\"\nand \"snuff a candle,\" three shots out of six, and who kill such dainty\ngame as squirrels by blowing the breath out of them with the wind of\ntheir bullets instead of lacerating their little bodies with the ball;\nwho have hand-to-hand, or hand-to-paw, tussles with ferocious grizzlies,\nand make nothing of two or three deer before breakfast, may afford to\nsmile at their fox-hunting, partridge-shooting English cousins. Such\nwere the men who first settled our now populous Western States; and we\nmay well believe that the healthy and thrilling excitement of pursuits\nlike these compensated for the want of many luxuries, and that they\nbecame so attached to their free and venturesome modes of life, as to\nfeel stifled at the idea of the constraints of society.\n\n \"Their gaunt hounds yelled, their rifles flashed\u2014\n The grim bear hushed his savage growl;\n In blood and foam the panther gnashed\n His fangs, with dying howl;\n The fleet deer ceased its flying bound,\n Its snarling wolf-foe bit the ground,\n And, with a moaning cry,\n The beaver sunk beneath the wound,\n Its pond-built Venice by.\"\n\nFascinating, even in contemplation, is a life like this. It makes the\nblood tingle in the veins, the sinews stretch, and the lungs expand, to\nread of the scenes which cluster around it, and to breathe, in fancy,\nthe pure air, and sweep, with our vision, the wide horizon.\n\nBut we must go back to our hunter, who stood, in the gray light of dawn,\nwithout coat or waistcoat, outside his cabin, listening to the baying of\nthe dogs, as they drove the deer. In this part of the country, lying\nalong the lake, it was the custom for one party, aided by dogs, to drive\nthe deer into the water, when another would pursue them in boats, and\nwhen the game was a little tired, shoot it without difficulty. Sweatland\nhad a neighbor who hunted with him in this manner, and he it was who had\nalready started a noble buck, which dashed into the lake, while\nSweatland stood listening for the direction of the dogs.\n\nIn the enthusiasm of the moment, he threw his hat on the beach, jumped\ninto his canoe, and pulled out after the animal, every nerve thrilling\nwith intense interest in the pursuit. The wind, which had been blowing\nsteadily from the south during the night, had now increased to a gale,\nbut he was too intent upon securing the valuable prize which was\nbreasting the waves in advance, to heed the dictates of prudence. The\nrace promised to be a long one, for the buck was a powerful animal, and\nwas not easily to be beaten by a log canoe and a single paddle.\n\nA considerable distance from the land had been obtained, and the canoe\nhad already shipped a heavy sea, before he overtook the deer, which\nturned and made for the opposite shore. Upon tacking to pursue him,\nSweatland was at once apprised of his danger by the fact that, with his\nutmost exertions, he not only made no progress in the desired direction,\nbut was actually drifting out to sea. He had been observed, as he left\nthe shore, by his neighbor, and also by his family, and as he\ndisappeared from sight, great apprehension was felt for his safety.\n\nThe alarm was soon given in the neighborhood, and it was decided by\nthose competent to judge, that his return would be impossible, and\nunless aid was afforded him, that he was doomed to perish.\n\nActuated by those generous impulses which often induce men to risk their\nown lives for the salvation of others, three neighbors took a light boat\nand started in search of the wanderer. They met the deer returning, but\nsaw nothing of their friend. They made stretches off shore in the\nprobable range of the hunter, until they reached a distance of five or\nsix miles from land, when, meeting with a heavy sea, in which they\nthought it impossible for a canoe to live, and seeing no signs of it on\nthe vast expanse of waters, they reluctantly, and not without danger to\nthemselves, returned to shore, giving Sweatland up as lost.\n\nMeantime, the object of their search was laboring at his paddle, in the\nvain hope that the wind might abate, or that aid might reach him from\nthe shore.\n\n \"An antlered dweller of the wild\n Had met his eager gaze,\n And far his wandering steps beguiled\n Within an unknown maze.\"\n\nWillingly would he now have resigned every lordly buck of the forest, to\nwarm himself by his cabin fire, hear the laugh of his little ones, and\nbreathe the odor of the welcome breakfast\u2014ay, even for his coat and a\nbiscuit he would have given much.\n\nOne or two schooners were in sight in the course of the day, but\nalthough he made every effort to attract the notice of their crews, he\nfailed to do so. For a long time the shore continued in sight, and as he\ntraced its fast-receding outline, and recognized the spot where stood\nhis home, within whose precincts were the cherished objects of his\naffection, now doubly dear from the prospect of losing them forever, he\nfelt that the last tie which united him in companionship with his\nfellow-men was about to be dissolved\u2014the world, with all its busy\ninterests, was floating far away.\n\nSweatland possessed a cool head and a stout heart; these, united to\nconsiderable physical strength and power of endurance, fitted him for\nthe emergency in which he found himself. He was a good sailor, and his\nexperience taught him that \"while there was life there was hope.\"\nExperience taught him also, as the outline of the far-off shore receded\nfrom sight, that his only expedient was to endeavor to reach the Canada\nshore, a distance of fifty miles.\n\nIt was now blowing a gale, so that it required the most incredible\nexertions to trim his uncouth vessel to the waves. He was obliged to\nstand erect, and move cautiously from one end to the other, well aware\nthat one lost stroke of the paddle, or a tottering movement, would bring\nhis voyage to a sudden termination. Much of his attention was likewise\nrequired in bailing out the canoe, which he managed to do with _one of\nhis shoes_, which were a substantial pair of stogas. Hitherto he had\nbeen blessed by the light of day, but now, to add to his distress, night\napproached, and he could only depend upon a kind Providence to guide him\nover the watery waste. The sky, too, began to be overcast; an occasional\nstar, glistening through the scudding clouds, was all the light afforded\nhim through that long and fearful night.\n\nWet to the skin by the dashing spray; part of the time in water half way\nto his knees; so cold that his blood chilled in his veins, and almost\nfamished, he felt that death was preferable to such long-continued\nsuffering; and nothing but the thought of his family gave him courage to\nkeep up his exertions.\n\nWhen morning dawned, the outline of the Canada shore greeted his sight;\nhe soon made the land in the vicinity of Long Point. Here he met\nadditional difficulties in an adverse wind and heavy breakers, but the\nsame hand which had guided him thus far remained with him still; he\nsucceeded in safely landing. What his emotions were upon again treading\n\"the green and solid earth,\" we may faintly imagine; but his trials were\nnot ended. Faint with hunger and exhausted by fatigue, he was forty\nmiles from human habitation, while the country which intervened was a\ndesert, filled with marshes and tangled thickets, from which nothing\ncould be drawn to supply his wants. These difficulties, together with\nhis reduced state, made his progress toward the settlements very slow.\n\nOn his way he found a quantity of goods which had been thrown ashore\nfrom the wreck of some vessel, which, though they afforded no immediate\nrelief, were afterward of service to him. After a long and toilsome\nmarch through the wilderness, he arrived at a settlement, where he was\ntreated with great kindness by the people. When his strength was\nsufficiently recruited, he procured a boat, and went after the wrecked\ngoods, which he found and brought off. He then started overland for\nBuffalo, where he disposed of part of his treasure, and with the\nproceeds furnished himself with a complete outfit. Here, finding the\n_Traveler_, Captain Brown, from Conneaut, in the harbor, he engaged\npassage on board of her. The Captain and crew, having heard of his\ndisappearance, looked upon him almost as one risen from the dead. His\nstory was so astonishing as hardly to be credible; but as he was there,\nin person, to verify it, they were obliged to believe the testimony.\n\nWithin a day or two, he was on his way to rejoin his family, who, the\nCaptain informed him, had given him up, and were in great grief and\ndistress. When the packet arrived opposite the house, the crew gave\nthree loud, long and hearty cheers, and fired guns from the deck in\ntoken of joy, which led the family to anticipate his return.\n\nOn landing, he found that his funeral sermon had been preached, and had\nthe rare privilege of seeing his own _widow_ clothed in the habiliments\nof mourning.\n\nDeer hunting, even down to a recent period, was a chosen amusement in\nOhio. At this time the animal is only found in the great forests of the\nnorth-west counties of Paulding, Van Wart, Williams, etc., and in the\nheavy woods of Wyandot and Hardin counties. Sandusky Bay, an estuary of\nLake Erie, and one of the most beautiful sheets of water in America, is\nyet a great sportsman's resort, though now chiefly for wild water-fowl,\nwhose spring and fall season calls thither many a modern Nimrod. The\nwriter of this has spent many a season among the marshes and\noverflow-lands at the head of the bay in pursuit of game which, with\nproper care, will continue for years to afford good gunning. Only keep\nout the murderous blunderbusses of certain Englishmen, which sweep away\na whole flock of green-heads and canvas-backs at a shot. We have often\nbeen tempted to have arrested, as a common nuisance, these sneaking\nprowlers after \"a shot for twenty birds\u2014not a whit less.\" But it was not\nof birds we are to write. Sandusky Bay, in days gone by, used to afford\nrare sport in deer-hunting _in the water_. To illustrate:\n\nThe bay is bounded on the east by a narrow strip of sand and cedars,\nwhich divides it from Lake Erie. On the north is the peninsula, another\nstrip of rich soil, once densely covered with forests, stretching far to\nthe west. The sport practiced in early times was to drive the deer with\ndogs from Cedar Point and the peninsula into the water, when they would\nmake for the opposite shore, above the town of Sandusky. The heads of\nthe beautiful animals could be seen a great distance, as they glided\nalong the surface of the clear waters. Then boats would put out, in each\nof which was a dog\u2014no guns being allowed\u2014the men being armed only with a\nknife. The deer always would scent the danger from afar, and, with\nextraordinary celerity, move off up the bay, followed by the boats. When\na comparatively near approach was at length made, after hard pulling for\ntwo or three miles, the dogs were let loose. Being fresh, and the deer\nsomewhat exhausted from their long swim, the dogs would gain on their\nprey rapidly, and soon the struggle in the water would commence\u2014the\nnoble bucks always receiving their enemy, while the ewes and fawns were\nkept out of harm's reach. The bucks were, if not too much exhausted,\nquite a match for the dogs. Not unfrequently their antlers would crimson\nthe water with the blood of their canine foe. The boats, meanwhile, were\nbut spectators of the contest, and only came up when their dogs showed\nsigns of defeat. A good dog, however, generally succeeded in fastening\nto the throat of his prey, and there clung with such tenacity as to sink\nand rise with the buck, avoiding the terrific strokes of its hoofs by\nlaying close to the deer's body. One blow of a fore-hoof has been known\nto smash the skull of a mastiff. The sport, to those in the boats, is\nexciting in the extreme; but strict honor used to govern the combats.\nThe fawns and most of the ewes were permitted to escape, and the bucks\nwere only slaughtered with the knife when it became evident that the\ndogs would be overpowered, or when some favorite mastiff brought his\ngame to the boat in a conquered condition.\n\nA startling adventure once occurred in the waters of the bay. A\nwell-known hunter, named Dick Moxon, somewhat addicted to drink, one day\nsaw a fine drove of deer coming in to land from the opposite shore. He\nat once advanced, knife in hand, into the water to his waist. The bucks,\nthree of them, led the convoy, and made directly for their enemy to\ncover the retreat of the females. The hunter found himself in a position\nof imminent danger, and sought to retreat, but this the deer did not\npermit, as one of them drove him down into the water by a terrible butt\nwith his ugly antlers. Moxon grappled the deer, but the animal trampled\nthe hunter and kept him down. With great presence of mind, Moxon\ndisappeared under water and swam for the shore, coming up a rod nearer\nthe land. This dodge did not save him, however, for the infuriated bucks\npursued, and soon the combat became terrible. Moxon cut right and left\nwith his knife, making shocking wounds in the glistening bodies of the\nnoble beasts; but the fight was not stayed, and the hunter's strength,\nso severely overtaxed in the first encounter in deep water, began to\ngive way entirely. A few minutes more must have seen him down in the\nwater under the hoofs of the frenzied animals. At this moment a woman\nappeared on the shore. It was Moxon's wife, whose cabin was not far\ndistant in the woods. Sally Moxon was as \"coarse as a cow, but brave as\na catamount,\" as her husband always averred; and so she proved in this\nmoment of Dick's peril. Seizing his rifle, which lay on the bank, she\nadvanced to the rescue. One buck quickly fell from the well-aimed shot.\nThen she \"clubbed\" her gun, and made at the nearest beast with great\ncaution. The buck made a furious dash at her, leaping at a bound out of\nthe water, almost upon her, but Sally was wide awake, and was not caught\nby the ugly horns and hoofs. She struck the beast such a blow on its\nneck as broke both the gunstock and the buck's spinal column. With the\nrifle-barrel still in her hand, Sally then made for the last buck, a\nvery savage fellow, who still confronted Dick in a threatening manner.\nThe fight which followed was severe. Sally was knocked down into the\nwater, but Moxon's knife saved his spouse from being \"trampled into a\npudding,\" as he afterward expressed it. With all his remaining strength,\nhe seized the deer by the horns, while with his left hand he buried his\nknife to the hilt in the animal's shoulder. The deer fell in the water,\nand Moxon went down under him; but Sally was, by this time, on her feet\nagain, and dragged Dick's almost inanimate form to the shore. The\nvictory was complete, though Dick was so terribly bruised that the meat\nof the three bucks was long gone before the hunter could again go forth\nto kill more. The moral of the story is that he learned not only never\nto attack three bucks, single-handed, in four feet of water, but to let\nthe whisky bottle alone.\n\nThe adventure which we are now about to chronicle is quite as marvelous\nas those above related, although of another character. It is deeply\ninteresting, as illustrating _one_ of the many phases of danger which\nconstantly lurked on the steps of the pioneers. Startling as were the\n_romantic realities_ of those early days, needing not the touch of\nfiction to heighten their interest, it will be confessed that few\nincidents can equal this for a novel combination of perils.\n\nThe family of John Lewis were the first settlers of Augusta, in the\nState of Virginia, and consisted of himself, his wife, and four sons,\nThomas, William, Andrew and Charles. Of these, the first three were born\nin Ireland, from whence the family came, and the last was a native of\nVirginia.\n\nLewis was a man of wealth and station in the old country, and the cause\nof his present emigration to America was an attempt, on the part of a\nman of whom he hired some property, to eject him therefrom, which led to\nan affray, in which the noble landlord lost his life. Fearing, from the\nhigh standing of his antagonist, the desperate character of his\nsurviving assailants, and the want of evidence to substantiate his case,\nthat his life would be in danger if he stayed, Lewis fled the country,\naccompanied by a party of his tenantry, and settled in the then western\nwilds of Virginia.\n\nThe father appears to have been a man of remarkable force and energy,\nand all four of his sons rendered themselves conspicuous for deeds of\ndaring and determined bravery during the early history of Western\nVirginia, and that of her infant sisters, Ohio and Kentucky, which would\nrequire volumes to relate.\n\nCharles Lewis, the hero of this sketch, was, even in early youth,\ndistinguished for those qualifications which have rendered the class to\nwhich he belonged\u2014the Indian fighters\u2014so remarkable among men. He was a\nyoung man when the Indians commenced their attacks upon the settlement\nof Western Virginia, but entered the contest with a zeal and courage\nwhich outstripped many of his older and more boastful compeers. His\nastonishing self-possession and presence of mind carried him safely\nthrough many a gallant exploit, which has rendered his name as familiar,\nand his fame as dear to the memories of the descendants of the early\nsettlers, as household words. Cool, calm and collected in the face of\ndanger, and quick-witted where others would be excited and tremulous, he\nwas able to grasp on the instant the propitious moment for action, and\nrender subservient to his own advantage the most trifling incident.\n\nHe was so unfortunate, on one occasion, as to be taken prisoner by a\nparty of Indians while on a hunting excursion. Separated from his\ncompanions, he was surprised and surrounded before he was aware of his\ndanger, and when he did become aware of his critical situation, he saw\nhow futile it was to contend, and how reckless and fatal it must be to\nhimself, should he kill one of his antagonists. He knew full well that\nthe blood of his enemy would be washed out in his own, and that, too, at\nthe stake; whereas, if he surrendered peaceably, he stood a chance of\nbeing adopted by the Indians as one of themselves. Revolving these\nthings in his mind, he quietly delivered up his rifle to his captors,\nwho rejoiced exceedingly over their prisoner. Bareheaded, with his arms\nbound tightly behind him, without a coat, and barefooted, he was driven\nforward some two hundred miles toward the Indian towns, his inhuman\ncaptors urging him on when he lagged, with their knives, and tauntingly\nreminding him of the trials which awaited him at the end of his journey.\nNothing daunted, however, by their threats and menaces, he marched on in\nthe weary path which led him further and further from his friends,\nperfectly tractable, so far as his body was concerned, but constantly\nbusy in his mind with schemes of escape. He bided his time, and at\nlength the wished-for moment came.\n\nAs the distance from the white settlements increased, the vigilance of\nthe Indians relaxed, and his hopes strengthened. As the party passed\nalong the edge of a precipice, some twenty feet high, at the foot of\nwhich ran a mountain torrent, he, by a powerful effort, broke the cords\nwhich bound his arms, and made the leap. The Indians, whose aim was to\ntake him alive, followed him, and then commenced a race for life and\nliberty, which was rendered the more exciting by the fact that his\npursuers were close upon him, and could at any moment have dispatched\nhim. But such was not their desire, and on, on he sped, now buoyed up by\nhope as his recent captors were lost to sight, and anon despairing of\nsuccess as he crossed an open space which showed them almost at his\nheels. At length, taking advantage of a thicket, through which he\npassed, and which hid him from their sight for a moment, he darted aside\nand essayed to leap a fallen tree which lay across his path. The tangled\nunderbrush and leaves which grew thickly around and almost covered the\ndecaying trunk, tripped him as he leaped, and he fell with considerable\nforce on the opposite side. For an instant he was so stunned by the fall\nas to lose his consciousness, but soon recovered it to find that the\nIndians were searching every nook in his immediate vicinity, and that he\nhad fallen almost directly upon a large rattlesnake which had thrown\nitself into the deadly coil so near his face that his fangs were within\na few inches of his nose. Is it possible for the most vivid imagination\nto conceive of a more horrible and terrifying situation?\n\nThe pursuit of his now highly exasperated and savage enemies, who\nthirsted for his recapture that they might wreak upon him an appalling\nrevenge, which of itself was a danger calculated to thrill the nerves of\nthe stoutest system, had now become a secondary fear, for death in one\nof its most terrifying and soul-sickening forms was vibrating on the\ntongue, and darting from the eye of the reptile before him, so near,\ntoo, that the vibratory motion of his rattle as it waved to and fro,\ncaused it to strike his ear. The slightest movement of a muscle\u2014a\nconvulsive shudder\u2014almost the winking of an eyelid, would have been the\nsignal for his death. Yet, in the midst of this terrible danger, his\npresence of mind did not leave him, but like a faithful friend did him\ngood service in his hour of trial. Knowing the awful nature of his\nimpending fate, and conscious that the slightest quivering of a nerve\nwould precipitate it, he scarcely breathed, and the blood flowed feebly\nthrough his veins as he lay looking death in the eye. Surrounded thus by\ndouble peril, he was conscious that three of the Indians had passed over\nthe log behind which he lay without observing him, and disappeared in\nthe dark recesses of the forest. Several minutes\u2014which to him were as\nmany hours\u2014passed in this terrifying situation, until the snake,\napparently satisfied that he was dead, loosed his threatening coil, and\npassing _directly over his body_, was lost to sight in the luxuriant\ngrowth of weeds which grew up around the fallen tree. Oh! what a\nthrill\u2014what a revulsion of feeling shook his frame as he was relieved\nfrom this awful suspense. Tears\u2014tears of joyous gratitude coursed down\nhis cheeks as he poured out his heart to God in thankfulness for his\nescape. \"I had eaten nothing,\" said he to his companions, after his\nreturn, \"for many days; I had no fire-arms, and I ran the risk of dying\nwith hunger before I could reach the settlements; but rather would I\nhave died than have made a meal of that generous beast.\"[1] He was still\nin imminent danger from the Indians, who knew that he had hidden in some\nsecluded spot, and were searching with the utmost zeal every nook and\ncorner to find him. He was fortunate enough, however, to escape them,\nand after a weary march through the wilderness, during which he suffered\nintensely from hunger, he reached the settlements.\n\nFootnote 1:\n\n It was no unusual thing for hungry hunters, like the Indians, to dine\n upon broiled rattlesnake!\n\n\n\n\n COLONEL HORRY, OF \"MARION'S BRIGADE.\"\n\n\nIt is much to be regretted that the chronicles of the war of the\nRevolution in the South are so meager in personal incidents. There can\nbe but one reason for this: the want of a local historian to gather up\nand preserve in print the details of the contest, ere the actors of\nthose stirring scenes had passed from the stage\u2014for the wild and\nstirring adventures of \"Marion's Men,\" and of others in North and South\nCarolina, must have been as full of romance as the heart of the\nhistorian could desire.\n\nIt is fortunate that one of Marion's officers did wield the pen a\nlittle, as well as the sword. Colonel Horry served under General Marion.\nHis adventures were numerous and some of them amusing. He left a\nmanuscript memoir, giving the particulars of some of his exploits, among\nothers the one illustrated in our engraving.\n\nHe was brave, and ambitious of distinction. This ambition led him to\ndesire a command of cavalry rather than of infantry. But he was no\nrider\u2014was several times unhorsed in combat, and was indebted to the\nfidelity of his soldiers for his safety. On one occasion his escape was\nmore narrow from a different cause. Crossing the swamp at Lynch's Creek,\nto join Marion, in the dark, and the horse swimming, he encountered the\nbough of a tree, to which he clung while his horse passed from under\nhim. He was no swimmer, and but for timely assistance from his followers\nwould have been drowned.\n\nAnother story is told of him which places him in a scarcely less\nludicrous attitude:\n\nHe was ordered by Marion to await, in ambush, the approach of a British\ndetachment. The duty was executed with skill: the enemy was completely\nin his power. But he labored under an impediment in his speech, which we\nmay readily suppose was greatly increased by anxiety and excitement. The\nword \"Fire!\" stuck in his throat, as \"amen\" did in that of Macbeth. The\nemergency was pressing, but this only increased the difficulty. In vain\ndid he make the attempt. He could say: \"Fi\u2014fi\u2014fi!\" but he could get no\nfurther; the \"er\" was incorrigible. At length, irritated almost to\nmadness, he exclaimed:\n\n\"_Shoot_, d\u2014n you, _shoot!_ you know what I would say! Shoot, and be\nd\u2014\u2014d to you!\"\n\nHe was present, and acted bravely, in almost every affair of\nconsequence, in the brigade of Marion. At Quimly, Captain Baxter, a man\ndistinguished by his great strength and courage, as well as size, and by\nequally great simplicity of character, cried out:\n\n\"I am wounded, Colonel!\"\n\n\"Think no more of it, Baxter,\" was the answer of Horry, \"but stand to\nyour post.\"\n\n\"But I can't stand,\" says Baxter, \"I am wounded a second time.\"\n\n\"Lie down then, Baxter, but quit not your post.\"\n\n\"They have shot me again, Colonel,\" said the wounded man, \"and if I stay\nany longer here, I shall be shot to pieces.\"\n\n\"Be it so, Baxter, but stir not,\" was the order, which the brave fellow\nobeyed, receiving a fourth wound ere the engagement was over.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n Colonel Horry and Captain Merritt's Conflict.\u2014_Page_ 15.\n]\n\nAnother adventure is thus related by Horry himself: \"I was sent,\" he\nwrites, \"by General Marion to reconnoiter Georgetown. I proceeded with a\nguide through the woods all night. At the dawn of day, I drew near the\ntown. I laid an ambuscade, with thirty men and three officers, near the\nroad. About sunrise a chair appeared with two ladies escorted by two\nBritish officers. I was ready in advance with an officer to cut them\noff, but reflecting that they might escape, and alarm the town, which\nwould prevent my taking greater numbers, I desisted. The officers and\nchair halted very near me, but soon the chair went on, and the officers\ngalloped in retrograde into the town. Our party continued in ambush,\nuntil ten o'clock, A. M. Nothing appearing, and men and horses having\neaten nothing for thirty-six hours, we were hungered, and retired to a\nplantation of my quartermaster's, a Mr. White, not far distant. There a\ncurious scene took place. As soon as I entered the house, four ladies\nappeared, two of whom were Mrs. White and her daughter. I was asked what\nI wanted. I answered, food, refreshment. The other two ladies were those\nwhom I had seen escorted by the British officers. They seemed greatly\nagitated, and begged most earnestly that I would go away, for the family\nwas very poor, had no provisions of any sort\u2014that I knew that they were\nWhigs, and surely would not add to their distress. So pressing were they\nfor my immediately leaving the plantation, that I thought they had more\nin view than they pretended. I kept my eyes on Mrs. White, and saw she\nhad a smiling countenance, but said nothing. Soon she left the room, and\nI left it also and went into the piazza, laid my cap, sword and pistols\non the long bench, and walked the piazza;\u2014when I discovered Mrs. White\nbehind the house chimney beckoning me. I got to her, undiscovered by the\nyoung ladies, when she said: 'Colonel Horry, be on your guard; these two\nladies, Miss F\u2014 and M\u2014, are just from Georgetown; they are much\nfrightened, and I believe the British are leaving it and may soon attack\nyou. As to provisions, which they make such a rout about, I have plenty\nfor your men and horses in yonder barn, but you must affect to take them\nby force. Hams, bacon, rice and fodder are there. You must insist on the\nkey of the barn, and threaten to split the door with an ax if not\nimmediately opened.' I begged her to say no more, for I was well\nacquainted with all such matters\u2014to leave the ladies and every thing\nelse to my management. She said 'Yes; but do not ruin us: be artful and\ncunning, or Mr. White may be hanged and all our houses burned over our\nheads.' We both secretly returned, she to the room where the young\nladies were, and I to the piazza I had just left.\"\n\nThis little narrative will give some idea of the straits to which the\ngood whig matrons of Carolina were sometimes reduced in those days. But\nno time was allowed Horry to extort the provisions as suggested. He had\nscarcely got to the piazza when his videttes gave the alarm. Two shots\nwarned him of the approach of the foe, and forgetting that his cap,\nsaber and pistols lay on the long bench on the piazza, Horry mounted his\nhorse, left the inclosure, and rushed into the _mel\u00e9e_. The British were\nseventeen in number, well mounted and commanded by a brave fellow named\nMerritt. The dragoons, taken by surprise, turned in flight, and, smiting\nat every step, the partisans pursued them with fatal earnestness. But\ntwo men are reported to have escaped death or captivity, and they were\ntheir Captain and a Sergeant. It was in approaching to encounter Merritt\nthat Horry discovered that he was weaponless. \"My officers,\" says he,\n\"in succession, came up with Captain Merritt, who was in the rear of his\nparty, urging them forward. They engaged him. He was a brave fellow.\nBaxter, with pistols, fired at his breast, and missing him, retired;\nPostelle and Greene, with swords, engaged him; both were beaten off.\nGreene nearly lost his head. His buckskin breeches were cut through\nseveral inches. I almost blush to say that this one British officer beat\noff three Americans.\" The honor of the day was decidedly with Merritt,\nthough he was beaten. He was no doubt a far better swordsman than our\nself-taught cavalry, with broadswords wrought out of mill-saws. Merritt\nabandoned his horse, and escaped to a neighboring swamp, from whence, at\nmidnight, he got into Georgetown.\n\nColonel Horry, after the war, met Captain Merritt in New York, when the\nlatter recognized him, and in the interview which followed, confessed,\nthat although so desperate in his self-defense he was never more\nfrightened in his life.\n\n\"Believe me, sir,\" said he, \"when I assure you that I went out that\nmorning with my locks as bright an auburn as ever curled upon the\nforehead of youth, but by the time I had crawled out of the swamp into\nGeorgetown that night, they were as gray as a badger!\"\n\nIf this is true, he must indeed have been wofully frightened, for the\nrecords of such an effect of terror are few and far between. One of\nByron's heroes says that\n\n \"His locks grew white,\n In a single night.\"\n\nBut that was with grief, and not with fear.\n\nHorry's award of praise to the British Captain for his courage in\nbeating off three of his own men, was both generous and ingenious, when\nit is considered that the Englishman was a scientific swordsman,\npossessing a superior weapon, while his antagonists were self-taught,\nand their swords, if not beaten out of \"plowshares,\" were veritably made\nout of mill-saws.\n\nIn one of his numerous encounters, while his men were individually\nengaged and scattered through the woods around him, he suddenly found\nhimself alone, and assailed by a Tory Captain, named Lewis, at the head\nof a small party. Lewis was armed with a musket, and in the act of\nfiring, when an unexpected shot from the woods tumbled him off his\nhorse, in the very moment when his own gun was discharged. The bullet of\nLewis took effect on Horry's horse. The shot which so seasonably slew\nthe Tory was sent by the hand of a boy named Given.\n\nColonel Horry gives, in his memoirs, a good illustration of the mingled\nfirmness and forbearance with which Marion enforced discipline amidst\nmen and circumstances not any too easily governed. Marion had placed one\nof his detachments at the plantation of George Crofts, on Tampit Creek.\nThis person had proved invariably true to the American cause; had\nsupplied the partisans frequently, though secretly, with munitions of\nwar, cattle and provisions. He was an invalid, however, suffering from a\nmortal infirmity, which compelled his removal, for medical attendance,\nto Georgetown, then in possession of the enemy. During the absence of\nthe family, Marion placed a Sergeant in the house for its protection.\nThis guard was expelled from the premises by two officers of the\nbrigade, who stripped the house of its contents. Colonel Horry disclosed\nthese facts to General Marion\u2014the Colonel having received them from Mrs.\nCrofts, who had pointed to the sword of her husband hanging by the side\nof the principal offender. The indignation of Marion was not apt to\nexpend itself in words. Redress was promised to the complainant, and she\nwas dismissed.\n\nThe offenders were men of some influence, and had a small faction in the\nbrigade, which had already proved troublesome, and which might easily\nbecome dangerous. One of them was a Major, the other a Captain. They\nwere in command of a company of men known as the Georgia Refugees. Upon\nthe minds of these men the offenders had already sought to act, in\nreference to the expected collision with their General.\n\nMarion dispatched Horry to the person who had possession of the sword of\nCrofts, with a formal demand for the weapon. He refused to give it up,\nalleging that it was his, and taken in war.\n\n\"If the General wants it,\" he added, \"let him come for it himself.\"\n\nWhen this reply was communicated to Marion, he instructed Horry to renew\nthe demand. His purpose seems to have been, discovering the temper of\nthe offender, to gain the necessary time. His officers, meanwhile, were\ngathering around him. He was making his preparations for a struggle\nwhich might be bloody\u2014which might, indeed, involve, not only the safety\nof the brigade, but his own future usefulness. Horry, with proper\nspirit, entreated not to be sent again to the refractory officer, giving\nas the reason for his reluctance, that, in consequence of the previous\nrudeness of the other, he was not in the mood to tolerate a repetition\nof the indignity, and might, if irritated, be provoked to violence.\n\nMarion then dispatched his orderly to the guilty Major, with a civil\nrequest that he might see him at head-quarters. The Major appeared,\naccompanied by the Captain who had joined him in the outrage, and under\nwhose influence he appeared to act. Marion renewed his demand, in\nperson, for the sword of Crofts. The Major again refused to deliver it,\nasserting that Crofts was a Tory, even then with the enemy in\nGeorgetown.\n\n\"Will you deliver me the sword, Major?\" repeated the General.\n\n\"I will not.\"\n\n\"At these words,\" says Horry, in his memoirs, I could forbear no longer,\nand said with great warmth, and a great oath: \"Did I, sir, command this\nbrigade, as you do, I would hang them both in half an hour!\"\n\nMarion sternly replied:\n\n\"This is none of your business, sir; they are before me! Sergeant of the\nguard, bring me a file of men with loaded arms and fixed bayonets.\"\n\n\"I was silent,\" added Horry. \"All our field-officers in camp were\npresent, and they had put their hands to their swords in readiness to\ndraw. My own sword was already drawn.\"\n\nIn the regular service, with officers bred up to the severe sense of\nauthority considered necessary to proper discipline, the offender would\nprobably have been hewn down in the moment of disobedience. The effect\nof such a measure, in this instance, might have been most unhappy. The\n_esprit du corps_ might have prompted the Major's immediate followers to\nhave resisted, and, though annihilated, as Horry says they would have\nbeen, yet several valuable lives would have been lost, which their\ncountry could ill spare. The mutiny would have been put down, but at\nwhat a price!\n\nThe patience and prudence of Marion's character taught him forbearance.\nHis mildness, by putting the offender entirely in the wrong, so\njustified his severity, as to disarm the followers of the criminals, who\nwere about sixty in number.\n\nHorry continues: \"The purpose of the officers was, to call upon these\nmen for support\u2014we well knew they meant, if possible, to intimidate\nMarion, so as to compel him to come into their measures of plunder and\nTory killing. The affair, fortunately, terminated without any bloodshed.\nThe prudence of the General had its effect. The delay gave time to the\noffender for reflection. Perhaps, looking around upon their followers,\nthey saw no consenting spirit of mutiny in their eyes; for, though many\nof the refugees were present, none offered to back the mutinous\nofficers\u2014and when the guard which was ordered appeared in sight, the\ncompanion of the offender was seen to touch the arm of the other, who\nthen proffered the sword to Marion, saying:\n\n\"'General, you need not have sent for the guard.'\"\n\nMarion, refusing to receive it, referred him to the Sergeant of the\nguard, and thus, doubly degraded, the dishonored Major of the\nContinentals disappeared from sight, followed by his associate.\n\nAnother one of Marion's bravest men was Sergeant Jasper, of whom the\nreaders of a former number have already heard in connection with the\nmelancholy and romantic story of the young Creole girl, who followed him\nto camp, in the disguise of a soldier, and sacrificed her life to\npreserve that of the man she loved, by rushing in between him and the\nshot aimed at his breast.\n\nSergeant William Jasper, at the time of the affair which we are about to\nrelate, belonged to the Second regiment of the South Carolina militia,\nhaving enlisted under Marion, who was then a Captain. Jasper, from the\nday of his entering the camp, had been proverbial for his bravery. His\ncoolness and valor in times of emergency, and more than all, his utter\ndisregard of danger, had won for him the golden opinions of his\ncomrades, with the esteem and confidence of his commander. Jasper\npossessed remarkable talents and capacity for a scout. Bold, active and\nshrewd, with a frame capable of every endurance\u2014the result of a hardy,\nbackwoods life\u2014and retaining those noble qualities of bravery and\ngenerosity which were the shining points of his character, he was\nadmirably adapted for that dangerous but important branch of the\nservice. Combining, in happy harmony, so many virtues, it is not\nsurprising that he won the affections of his associates, and the entire\nconfidence of his commander, who was so assured of his fitness that he\ngranted him a roving commission, with full power to select from the\nbrigade such men and as many as he should think proper. But of these he\nnever, or seldom, selected more than six or eight, preferring, by this\nsmall band, celerity and secrecy. He was almost universally successful,\noften penetrating the enemy's camp, or cutting off his rear or advanced\nguard, and then returning with his prisoners, or his information,\naccording to the circumstances of the case. So rapid were his movements,\nthat he has been known to disappear from the camp and return again with\nhis prisoners, ere his absence was noticed by the commandant. He would\noften enter the enemy's camp as a deserter, and complaining of the ill\nusage he had received from his countrymen, so gain upon their\nconfidence, that he would completely disarm them of his real intentions,\nand after satisfying himself of their strength, position, intentions,\nand the like, would return and report his knowledge to the commander. On\none of these occasions, he remained in the enemy's camp eight days, and\nthen returned, after first informing himself of every thing necessary\nthat could be of any use to his General. This game, however, could be\nplayed but once. Never at a loss how to proceed, he, with his usual\npromptness, devised other ways and means to gain his information.\n\nIt was while he was in the employment of one of these roving\nexpeditions, that he prepared to again enter the camp of the British at\nEbenezer. It so happened that he had a brother at this post, who was in\nthe employ of the enemy\u2014a melancholy instance among many other cases of\na like nature, which occurred during the war\u2014who was a Tory, and who\nheld the same rank in the British army that he possessed in the\nAmerican. The brothers were equally dear to each other, though opposite\nin political sentiment.\n\nWilliam Jasper loved his brother in the natural warmth of his generous\nheart, and wished to see him. He also wished to inform himself of the\nenemy's movements. With this double object in his mind, he therefore\nprepared for his departure, taking with him only one companion, a brave\nyoung fellow, like himself, who had shared with him many a \"happy hunt,\"\nas he termed it, to the united honor of both. This young officer's name\nwas Newton, holding the same rank in the service as Jasper, namely, a\nSergeant.\n\nIt was about sunset when the two young officers left the camp for their\ndestination. Passing the American lines, they proceeded on rapidly\ntoward the British camp, which lay some few miles from Abercorn. Taking\nthe direct road to the latter place, they traveled rapidly until they\narrived in sight of the encamped British force, at Abercorn.\n\n\"We must now make a _detour_,\" said Jasper, halting, \"in order to avoid\nthe British at this place, and not be discovered. Our route lies to the\nsouth-east a little, and to shorten the journey, we must pass yonder\nforest, the southern side of which borders upon a small lake or pond, a\nvery convenient place for a respite after the toils and fatigues of a\nwhole day's travel. I have often met straggling parties of Tories or\nBritish in this forest, or around the margin of the lake, and it is\nnecessary, therefore, to proceed carefully while passing it. Just beyond\nthe lake is a small hill, from the summit of which the town of Ebenezer\ncan be seen some three or four miles distant. After we pass this forest\nand hill, we must observe the utmost silence and scrutiny, for we are\nthen in the immediate vicinity of and between the two British posts,\nwhich will necessarily place us in a double danger from the meeting of\nscouts or Tories from either or both camps.\"\n\nWith these directions the two now resumed their journey, taking a small\npath leading to the left, and directly in line of the forest. A few\nminutes of brisk walking brought them to the outskirts of the forest,\nwhich was an extensive piece of woodland, stretching with occasional\nintervals far to the south-east, interrupted by a few broken and uneven\nranges of hills, somewhat elevated, but scarcely sufficiently so to be\ncalled mountains. On the left of our travelers, the forest broke off\nabruptly, a short distance above them, while its width was about a\nquarter of a mile. It was quite dark ere they reached the woods, which\nseemed to them almost impenetrable, having nothing but the faint\nglimmering of the stars to guide them. The day had been very clear,\nhowever, which left the atmosphere perfectly free, with nothing to\ninterrupt the twinklings of the little suns in the distant spheres.\n\nAs they entered the forest, they turned to the right, and struck into\nthe main road leading from Abercorn. They had proceeded some fifty\nyards, when Jasper's accustomed ear caught the sound of horses' hoofs\nupon the dry soil, moving somewhat rapidly toward them. Motioning his\ncomrade to halt, he remained an instant listening to the sound, and then\ndarted off into the thicket on his left, quickly followed by Newton.\nScarcely were they concealed behind a thick cluster of small cedars, ere\nthe horsemen, for such they proved to be, came up. Jasper instantly\nrecognized them as a party of British horse, bound on some scouting\nexpedition. Halting directly opposite to our travelers, two of them, who\nappeared to be the leaders of the squad, dismounted and withdrew a short\ndistance. The road, at this place, was considerably wider than the usual\nwidth, which caused a small opening in the wood, and which seemed a very\nconvenient situation for a halt. As the officers retired, they\nfortunately came directly abreast of the cedars, behind which Jasper and\nhis comrade were ensconced, so that their conversation could easily be\ndistinguished by both of the latter.\n\n\"Our prisoners are no doubt safely within the lines of Ebenezer, ere\nthis,\" began the first, \"unless rescued by some of their rebel brethren,\nwhich I think can hardly be the case, as we were close to the town when\nwe left them.\"\n\n\"No fear of that, Lieutenant,\" replied the second, \"for the rebel dogs\nwould not dare to be so audacious.\"\n\n\"I am not so sure of that,\" exclaimed the other, doubtingly; \"that\nJasper has the audacity of Satan himself, and if he should be in the\nneighborhood, I should almost fear for our prisoners. However, if they\nare once within the lines, no power will save them, as I am assured by\nthe commandant that they will be sent to Savannah for trial and\nexecution, which will have the effect of intimidating, at least, these\nrebel curs from further marauding expeditions;\" and he chuckled with an\nair of self-satisfaction at the thought of their petty victory.\n\n\"Well, be that as it may, Lieutenant,\" replied his comrade, \"it is\nanother letter in our catalogue of victories, which serves to make us\nmore popular with the commandant. In either case, we get our thanks, you\nknow, and that is something toward elevating us toward our desired\nheight.\"\n\n\"True,\" rejoined the Lieutenant. \"But let us not waste more time and\nwords than is necessary. Let me see,\" he added, thoughtfully, \"we will\npursue our course north to Abercorn, and deliver our message to the\ncommander, and then shape our proceedings as shall seem most fit.\"\n\nWith these words, the two officers mounted their horses, and were soon\nlost to view, with their party, on the road to the northern station.\n\nJasper and his friend now emerged from their place of concealment, and\ntaking the road opposite to the direction of the royalists, resumed\ntheir journey.\n\n\"So, so,\" exclaimed Jasper, as they hurried along, \"they have taken some\n'rebel curs' prisoners, have they? And they will no doubt give them the\nbenefit of 'short shrift and sudden cord,' if they act in consonance\nwith their general character. But we must endeavor to rescue them, if\ntheir guard is not too strong for us, which I hardly think will be the\ncase, as they will have no fear of such a thing in the immediate\nvicinity of their own lines.\"\n\n\"It is a hazardous undertaking, Jasper,\" replied Newton, \"and must be\nattended with a great deal of risk, as, you know, the enemy occupy every\npoint of note between this and Savannah; and besides, there is scarcely\nan hour of the day that some of their scouting-parties do not prowl\nbetween the posts.\"\n\n\"So much the more glory if we succeed,\" said the noble Jasper; \"and if\nwe fail, why then we share their fate. And we could not sacrifice\nourselves in a nobler cause. There is another reason why we should\nendeavor to rescue them, and that is, they are prisoners, and will, no\ndoubt, be driven to their execution within the walls of Savannah without\neven the right of a trial; for the British are notorious for their\nbloody propensities, and seek to vent their hate upon poor captives in a\ncruel and shameful manner.\"\n\n\"I am certainly of your opinion,\" said Newton, \"still we must not be\nimpetuous. Our country needs all the help she can command, and she does\nnot require us to sacrifice our lives in endeavoring to accomplish\nimpossibilities. However, we shall soon see.\"\n\nThe officers had now nearly reached the limits of the forest, and taking\nthe right of two roads which here joined, they were presently in the\nopen country. Nothing of importance occurred to them during the rest of\nthe journey, which was accomplished in safety to the British lines.\nArriving at the advanced guard, and having left Newton concealed until\nhis return, Jasper promptly gave the password, and soon found himself\nwithin the enemy's camp. Passing on hastily, he entered his brother's\nquarters, whom he found just about issuing forth to detail a file of men\nfor special duty to guard the prisoners recently captured, having been\nsent into Ebenezer on their way to Savannah for trial.\n\nThese prisoners had taken up arms against their countrymen at the\nbeginning of the contest; but as the British had been in a measure\noverthrown, they again joined the ranks of the patriots, and on being\ntaken, were to be executed. This was only one instance of hundreds of\nothers who had acted similarly.\n\nThe brothers Jasper were mutually rejoiced to see each other; but the\nTory shook his head doubtfully as he beheld his brother again within the\nBritish camp, after having so shrewdly deceived them on a former\noccasion. But William Jasper quickly reassured his mind on this point,\nand bade him be under no uneasiness.\n\nHaving ascertained from his brother the number of men who were to\nconduct the prisoners to Savannah, at what time they intended to leave,\nand also making such other inquiries as he deemed proper, Jasper bade\nhim adieu, and soon sought his comrade, Newton, whom he found anxiously\nwaiting his return.\n\n\"I have received information from my brother,\" he said, \"that these\nprisoners leave to-morrow morning at sunrise for Savannah, under a guard\nof eight men, and accompanied by a Sergeant and a Corporal. The odds is\nnot so very great after all; and I think by a little stratagem and\nboldness we can succeed in rescuing them. At all events, let us make the\ntrial.\"\n\nBut Jasper's friend was not so sure of success. Ten to two, and those\ntwo unarmed, seemed to him too great odds to contend with, as having any\nchance of succeeding. But when Jasper related to him that one of these\nprisoners was a woman who had a young child, and that she was the wife\nof one of the captured men, his heart was touched at the melancholy\nspectacle, and he instantly coincided with his friend that they should\nattempt their rescue. This being their conclusion, they conferred as to\nthe best means of accomplishing the desired object. This was soon\ndecided upon. They determined to linger around the fortifications until\nthey should see the prisoners, with their guard, set out for the place\nof destination, and then follow their footsteps until a convenient\nopportunity offered to put into force the execution of their design.\nAccordingly, selecting a secure concealment near the lines to await the\napproach of dawn, they threw themselves upon the ground, and being\nsomewhat fatigued, soon fell asleep. The day was just beginning to\nemerge ere Jasper awoke, so sound had been his rest, and springing up,\nhe aroused his friend.\n\nAll was activity in the British camp. Men were hurrying to and fro,\npreparing for the duties of the day. In fact, the whole camp seemed to\nbe astir to Jasper and his comrade, as they issued from their place of\nconcealment to watch the movements of the enemy.\n\nThey had not proceeded far before their attention was arrested by a file\nof soldiers marching out into the inclosure and then coming to a halt,\nas though waiting further orders. Presently a body of men, with their\narms pinioned, was marched directly to their front. Dividing their\nforce, the prisoners were placed in the center, with a portion of their\nguard in front and rear. Every thing being now in readiness, the whole\nparty started off toward their destined point, leaving the village at\nthe southern extremity.\n\nJasper and his companion now made a circuit of the village, so as not to\nbe discovered, and in order to place themselves on the track of the\ntroop. Having secured a suitable distance from the guard, they followed\nthem silently, watching their opportunity when to make the endeavor. In\nthis way they continued to track their friends and their guards for some\ntime, without any prospect of accomplishing their design, until they\nwere within two miles of Savannah. They had become nearly discouraged,\nwhen Jasper suddenly recollected that just ahead of them there was a\nnoted spring, at which place they conjectured the guard would halt, with\ntheir prisoners, to refresh themselves. The spring was known to\ntravelers, who, when journeying that way, seldom or never passed it\nwithout tasting its crystalline waters. Jasper and Newton were right in\ntheir conjectures. Arriving opposite the spring, the guard halted their\nprisoners in the road under the shade of a large oak-tree, which stood\njust on the margin of the road, and between that and the spring. Our\nheroes, however, had reached the spring before the British, having taken\nan obscure path with which they were well acquainted, and placing\nthemselves in ambush, awaited the arrival of the enemy.\n\nThe day was warm, and as the guard halted, the prisoners, glad to rest\ntheir wearied limbs after so long a march, threw themselves upon the\nearth under the shade of the tree, little dreaming of the succor so near\nat hand. Very soon after, they were conducted to the spring by the\nCorporal with four men. The remainder of the guard were under the charge\nof the Sergeant, who halted them on the road a short distance from the\nspring, and having ordered them to stack their arms, brought up the\nrear. After having sufficiently quenched their thirst, the whole party\nreturned, leaving two men on guard of the arms which were all stacked\nnear the spring. These two men kept guard but indifferently. They had\nnothing to fear within so short a distance of the fortress at Savannah,\nconscious of being surrounded by none of their foes, and inclosed within\nthe very stronghold of the British lines. It is not surprising that they\nshould not maintain a very strict watch under such circumstances.\n\nThe propitious moment for the daring and hazardous attempt was drawing\nnear, which was eagerly watched by Jasper and his comrade in their\nadjoining ambush.\n\nThe localities of the place, the position of the guard, the nearness of\nthe ambush\u2014in short, every thing seemed most appropriate and\nadvantageous.\n\nThe spring, as we have said, was situated on the left, within a few feet\nof the road, between which and the water stood the arms of the guard in\ncharge of the two men, who were lazily employed in watching the\nbubblings of the fountain, and then tracing its clear waters as they\nflowed silently off in a small rivulet in a winding direction, until\nlost in the thick foliage a few rods below. Beyond, and in full view,\nwere the walls and fortifications of Savannah, almost within hailing\ndistance of the spot which our heroes have rendered immortal by their\ndaring achievement.\n\nThe remaining guard stood in a group on the opposite side of the road,\nconversing freely and gayly, and utterly unconscious of the presence of\nan enemy, while the prisoners were reclining under the stately oak, a\nlittle on the left of the British.\n\nThe two soldiers were conversing cheerfully, having seated themselves by\nthe side of the spring, little dreaming that this colloquy was destined\nto be their last.\n\nPresently, the two arose, and leaning their muskets against a small\ntree, close to where Jasper and his comrade lay concealed, they\nproceeded to fill their canteens with the refreshing draught of the\nspring.\n\nAt this moment Jasper gave the signal. Springing out from their ambush,\nhe and his companion seized the loaded weapons, and instantly leveling\nthem, shot the two soldiers dead upon the ground. Then rushing upon the\nguard, they clubbed their muskets, and assailing two of the remaining\nsoldiers, who were in advance of the rest, they felled them to the\nearth, and before the astonished guard could recover from their\nsurprise, they rushed to the stack of arms, and with presented weapons,\ninstantly demanded the surrender of the whole troop. The British\nofficers seeing their perilous situation, and noticing the determined\nlooks of Jasper and Newton, and being withal deprived of their arms,\ncomplied with their demand, and yielded themselves and their men as\nprisoners of war. To set free the captives was but the work of an\ninstant, and placing the muskets of the captured British into their\nhands, Jasper ordered the irons to be placed upon the new prisoners; and\nthen hurrying away from this spot, which they have immortalized with a\nname not soon to be forgotten, they crossed the Savannah with both\nfriends and foes, and were soon rapidly marching toward the American\ncamp.\n\nThus was this noble act achieved, of which history furnishes but few\nparallels; and which strikingly illustrates the coolness, determination\nand bravery, which ever characterized the noble-hearted Jasper. But,\nunfortunately for his country, she was soon destined to lose his\nvaluable services, when, in the very hey-day of his youth, he sealed his\npatriotism with his heart's blood before the walls of Savannah.\n\n\n\n\n ELERSON'S TWENTY-FIVE MILE RACE.\n\n\n[Illustration:\n\n Elerson's Twenty-Five Mile Race\u2014_Page_ 32.\n]\n\nAmong the members of that celebrated rifle corps, commanded by Daniel\nMorgan, to which we already have referred, was a man by the name of\nElerson, who, in deeds of daring and intrepidity, was almost a match for\nTimothy Murphy, whose frequent companion he was when on an expedition\nagainst their mutual enemies, the Tories, red-coats, and Indians. Quick\nof perception, rapid in his conclusions and his actions, light of foot,\nand brave as a lion, he was an enemy whom the Indians feared, and a\nfriend whom all reckoned as second only to the renowned Murphy himself.\nThe corps to which these celebrated marksmen belonged was attached to\nthe expedition of Generals Clinton and Sullivan against the Six Nations\nin 1779. Elerson was with Clinton when that officer halted at Otsego\nLake, to await the coming up of his superior, from the direction of\nWyoming. While the army lay at this place, Elerson rambled off from the\nmain body, in search of adventure, and _pulse_ for the dinner of the\nmess to which he belonged. Regardless of danger, he wandered about until\nhe had procured a quantity of the weed, when he prepared to return to\ncamp. It seems that he had been discovered and tracked by a party of\nIndians, who determined upon his capture. As he was adjusting his\nburden, he heard a rustling of the leaves near him. Looking in the\ndirection indicated, he discovered a band of six or eight Indians,\nstationed between him and the camp, so as to cut off his retreat in that\ndirection, and who were in the act of springing upon him. Conscious of\ntheir object\u2014for he might have been shot down with ease\u2014he determined to\nfoil them if in his power, knowing full well the fate of a prisoner in\ntheir hands. Seizing his rifle, he dropped his bundle, and fled through\nthe only avenue left open for his escape, followed by the whole pack,\nhooting and yelling at his heels. As he started to run, half a dozen\ntomahawks were hurled at him, and came whizzing and flying through the\nair. Fortunately but one reached its object, and that nearly cut the\nmiddle finger from his left hand. With the agility of the hunted stag,\nElerson bounded over an old brushwood fence which stood in his path, and\ndarted into the shades of the forest, followed by his no less rapid\npursuers. Aware that the course he had taken was away from the camp\u2014so\nalso were his enemies\u2014he prepared himself for a mighty effort, trusting\nthat an opportunity would offer to \"double\" and find his way back. Vain\nhope! The Indians, aware that such would naturally be his aim, took care\nto prevent it by spreading themselves somewhat in the form of a\ncrescent; but, in so doing, they nearly lost sight of their prey.\nFearful that he might escape, they discharged their rifles\u2014hoping to\nwound or kill him\u2014but with no effect. The brave fellow tried every nerve\nto outstrip, and every stratagem and device to mislead his savage\npursuers; but they were too cunning to be deceived, and kept on his\ntrack with the ardor of blood-hounds. Four long hours the chase\ncontinued thus, until overtasked nature threatened to give way, and\nyield him to the tomahawk and scalping-knives of his enemies. Like some\npowerful engine, his heart was forcing the blood through his distended\nand throbbing veins, which were swollen to bursting with the mighty\nefforts of the chase. His breath came short and rapid, betokening a\nspeedy termination of the race, unless a breathing spell was afforded\nhim. An opportunity at last was offered, when, having, as he thought,\noutstripped his pursuers for a moment, he halted in a little lonely dell\nto recover his waning strength. His hope was destined to disappointment,\nhowever, for the circle closed in upon him, and the bust of an Indian\npresented itself at a slight opening in front. He raised his rifle to\nfire, but at that moment a shot from his rear admonished him that danger\nwas all around; another took effect in his side, and warned him of the\ndanger of delay. The Indian in front had disappeared, and he hastened\nforward, with the love of life still strong in his breast. The wound in\nhis side bled freely, although only a flesh-wound, and therefore not\ndangerous nor painful. It served, however, to track him by, and,\nconscious of the fact, he managed to tear a strip from his hunting-shirt\nand staunch the blood. On, on went pursuer and pursued\u2014over hill and\ndale, brook, stream-let and running stream\u2014through brier and bramble,\nthrough field and wood\u2014until the parched and burning tongue of the\nfugitive protruded from his mouth swelled to such distention as almost\nto stop his breathing. Exhausted nature could do no more; he threw\nhimself prostrate on the bank of a tiny brook, resolved to yield the\ncontest for the sake of a hearty draught of its clear, sparkling waters.\nHe bathed his brow in the cool element, and drank deeply of its reviving\nvirtues. Raising his head, he discovered the foremost of the now\nscattered and equally exhausted enemy, crossing the brow of a ridge over\nwhich he had just passed. The instinct of preservation was awakened\nafresh in his bosom at the sight; he started to his feet and raised his\nrifle, but failing strength would not allow of a certain aim, and an\nempty weapon would insure his death. Another moment, and he would be at\nthe mercy of his enemy, without hope or chance of life. Again he raised\nhis trusty rifle, and, steadying its barrel against a sapling, he\nsecured his aim, fired, and the Indian fell headlong in death. Before\nthe echoes of the report had died away in the neighboring hills, he\nbeheld the remainder of the band of eager, hungry pursuers coming over\nthe ridge; he then felt that his minutes indeed were numbered. Hidden\npartially by the tree behind which he stood, they did not discover him,\nhowever; and while they paused over the body of their fallen comrade, he\nmade another attempt to fly. He staggered forward\u2014fell\u2014and, exerting his\nfailing powers to the utmost, he managed to reach a thicket of young\ntrees, overgrown with wild vines, into which he threw himself with the\nenergy of desperation. Fortune favored him; he discovered the rotten\ntrunk of a fallen tree, whose hollow butt, hidden and screened by the\ndeep shadow of the surrounding foliage, offered an asylum from the\nimpending death which seemed so near. The approaching steps of the\nsavages quickened his movements, as he crawled head first into the\nrecess, which was barely large enough to admit his person. Here he lay\nwithin hearing of the efforts made to discover his hiding-place, until\nthey died away in the distance. Conscious, however, that the Indians\nwould search long and anxiously for him, he lay in this situation for\ntwo days and nights. When he ventured out he knew not which way to turn,\nbut striking off at random, he soon emerged upon a clearing near\nCobbleskill\u2014a distance of twenty-five miles from his place of starting.\nThe brave fellow had earned his liberty; and the Indians never ceased to\nrecur to the race, with grunts of approbation at the white man's power\nof endurance.\n\nAnother race for life, not so lengthy, but equally exciting while it\nlasted, is related in the historical records of Kentucky\u2014that State\nwhose infancy was \"baptized in blood.\" William Kennan, a brother spirit\nof Kenton, Hunt, and Boone, a ranger renowned for strength and courage,\nhad joined the expedition of St. Clair against the Indians. In the\ncourse of the march from Fort Washington he had repeated opportunities\nof testing his surprising powers, and was admitted to be the swiftest\nrunner of the light corps. This expedition of St. Clair was organized\nafter the disastrous defeat of Harmar by the Indians, in 1779.\nWashington, who was at this time President, determined to employ a force\nsufficient to crush out the savages. This force was to have been two\nthousand regular troops, composed of cavalry, infantry and artillery,\nand a large number of militia which were ordered to move from the\nseveral States in which they had been enlisted, toward Fort Washington,\nnow Cincinnati, where the men rendezvoused in September. The object of\nthe campaign was to establish a line of posts, stretching from the Ohio\nto the Maumee, to build a strong post on the latter river, and by\nleaving in it a garrison of a thousand men, to enable the commander of\nthe fort to send out detachments to keep the Indians in awe. But there\nwas difficulty about organizing the army, St. Clair being very unpopular\nin Kentucky; the season was far advanced before he took the field, and\nwhen he did, he had only about two thousand men all told, and from\nthese, desertions were continually taking place. The Kentucky levies\nwere reckless and ungovernable, the conscripts from the other States\nwere dissatisfied, and to make matters worse, the mountain leader, a\nChickasaw chief, whose knowledge of Indian tactics would have been\ninvaluable, losing faith in the success of the whites, abandoned the\nenterprise with his band of warriors.\n\nSt. Clair, however, continued his march; and on the evening of the third\nof November, halted on one of the tributaries of the Wabash. A few\nIndians were seen, who fled with precipitation. The troops encamped; the\nregulars and levies in two lines, covered by the stream; the militia on\nthe opposite shore, and about a quarter of a mile in advance. Still\nfurther in advance was posted Captain Hough with a company of regulars.\nHis orders were to intercept small parties of the enemy, should they\nventure to approach the camp, and to give intelligence of any\noccurrences which might transpire.\n\nColonel Oldham, who commanded the Kentucky levies, such as had not\ndeserted, was cautioned to remain on the alert during the night, and to\nsend out patrols of twenty-five or thirty men each, in different\ndirections, before daylight, to scour the adjoining woods.\n\nKennan was with one of these patrols. Just as day was dawning he\nperceived about thirty Indians within one hundred yards of the guard\nfire, cautiously approaching the spot where he, with about twenty other\nrangers, stood, the rest of his company being considerably in the rear.\nSupposing it to be a mere scouting party, not superior in numbers to the\nrangers, he sprung forward a few paces to shelter himself in a spot of\ntall grass, where, after firing with quick aim upon the foremost savage,\nhe fell flat upon his face, rapidly reloading his gun, not doubting but\nwhat his companions would maintain their position.\n\nHowever, as the battle afterward proved, this, instead of being a\nscouting-party of savages, was the front rank of their whole body, who\nhad chosen their favorite hour of daybreak for a fierce assault upon the\nwhites, and who now marched forward in such overwhelming masses, that\nthe rangers were compelled to fly, leaving Kennan in total ignorance of\nhis danger. Fortunately, the Captain of his company, observing him throw\nhimself in the grass, suddenly exclaimed:\n\n\"Run, Kennan! or you are a dead man!\"\n\nInstantly springing to his feet, he beheld the Indians within ten feet\nof him, while his company was more than a hundred yards in front. He had\nno time for thought; but the instinct of self-preservation prompted him\nto dart away, while the yells of his pursuers seemed absolutely close in\nhis ears. He fancied he could feel their hot breath. At first, he\npressed straight toward the usual fording-place in the creek, which was\nbetween the savages and the main army. Ten feet behind him! ay, they\nwere before, and all about him! Several savages had passed him, as he\nlay in the grass, without discovering him; and these now turned, heading\nhim off from the ford.\n\nThere was but one way possible for him to reach the camp, which was to\ndart aside, between his pursuers, and make a long circuit. He had not\nsucceeded in reloading his rifle; with a pang of regret, he threw it\ndown, for it encumbered him, in the exertions he was making, and putting\nevery nerve to its utmost strain, he bounded aside and onward. Running\nlike a deer, he soon had the relief of outstripping all his pursuers but\none, a young chief, perhaps Messhawa, who displayed a swiftness and\nperseverance equal to his own.\n\nHere was a race worth seeing! With long, panther-like bounds, the agile\nIndian chased the fugitive, who scarcely knew whether he fled on air or\nearth. The distance between them on the start was about eighteen feet;\nthe herculean efforts of Kennan could not make it one inch more, nor the\nequally powerful leaps of the savage make it one inch less. Kennan was\nat a great disadvantage. He had to watch the pending blow of his\nadversary, whose tomahawk was poised in the air, ready for the first\nfavorable opportunity to be discharged at him. This gave him small\nchance to pick his footsteps with prudence.\n\nGrowing tired of this contest of skill, in which neither gained, the\nranger, seeing that no other Indian was near enough to interfere,\nresolved to end the matter by a hand-to-hand conflict. Feeling in his\nbelt for his knife, he found that it was gone.\n\n\"I'm tellin' the straight out-and-out truth, my friends,\" Kennan used to\nremark, when he related this adventure, \"when I felt for sartin that\nknife was lost, my ha'r just lifted my cap off my head\u2014it stood straight\nup\u2014that's a fact!\"\n\nBut if fear lifted his hair up, it lifted his body up, likewise. The\nthought of his unarmed condition gave him wings, which, verily, he\nneeded, for he had slackened his pace as he felt for his knife, and the\ntomahawk of his enemy was now almost at his shoulder.\n\nFor the first time he gained ground a trifle. He had watched the motions\nof his pursuer so closely, however, as not to pay attention to the\nnature of the ground, so that he suddenly found himself in front of a\nlarge tree, which had been torn up by the winds, and whose dry branches\nand trunk made an obstacle eight or nine feet high. As he paused before\nthis hindrance, the young chief gave a whoop of triumph.\n\n\"Yell yer throat open, yer blasted red blood-hound!\" thought the\ninvincible Kentucky ranger.\n\nPutting his soul into the effort, he bounded into the air with a power\nwhich astonished himself as much as his pursuers; trunk, limbs, brush,\nwere cleared\u2014he alighted in perfect safety on the other side. A loud\nyell of amazement burst from the band of savages who witnessed the feat,\nwhich not even the young chief, Messhawa, had the hardihood to repeat.\n\nKennan, however, had no leisure to enjoy his triumph. Dashing into the\ncreek, where its high banks protected him from the fire of the Indians,\nhe ran up the edge of the stream until he came to a convenient\ncrossing-place, when he rejoined the encampment, where he threw himself\non the ground, exhausted by his exertions.\n\nHe had little time for rest. The Indians had begun a furious attack,\nwhich raged for three hours, and which resulted in a defeat of the\nwhites still more disastrous than that of Harmar's.\n\nIn the retreat which followed, Kennan was attached to the battalion\nwhich had the dangerous service of protecting the rear. This corps\nquickly lost its commander, Major Clarke, and was completely\ndemoralized. Kennan was among the hindmost when the retreat commenced;\nbut the same powers which had saved him in the morning enabled him to\ngain the front, passing several horsemen in his flight. The retreat of\nthe whole army was in the utmost disorder. The camp, artillery, baggage\nand wounded were left in the hands of the enemy. Most of the officers,\nwho had fought bravely, were already fallen.\n\nSt. Clair himself, who had been confined to his tent with the gout, made\nhis escape on a pack-horse, which he could neither mount nor dismount\nwithout assistance. The flying troops made their way back to Fort\nJefferson. Under such circumstances, it may be imagined that the line of\nflight was a scene of fearful disorder. The Indians, making matters more\nappalling by their yells of triumph, pursued the routed foe. Giving up\nall efforts to protect the rear, the battalion to which Kennan belonged\nfled as it could, every man for himself.\n\nIt was here, as he was making good his own retreat, that our hero came\nacross a private in his own company, an intimate friend, lying upon the\nground with his thigh broken, who, in tones of piercing distress,\nimplored each horseman to take him up. When he beheld Kennan coming up\non foot he stretched out his hands entreatingly. Notwithstanding the\nimminent peril, his friend could not withstand this passionate appeal;\nhe lifted him upon his back, and ran in that manner several hundred\nyards.\n\nThe enemy gained upon them so fast that Kennan saw the death of both was\ncertain unless he relinquished his burden. He told his friend that he\nhad done all he could for him, but that it was in vain. He could not\nsave him, and unless he wished both to perish, to let go his clasp about\nhis neck. The unhappy man only clung the more tenaciously; Kennan\nstaggered on under his burden, until the foremost of the enemy were\nwithin twenty yards of him\u2014then, yielding to a cruel necessity, he drew\nhis knife from its sheath and severed the fingers of the wounded man,\nwho fell to the ground, and was tomahawked three minutes after.\n\nBut if unsuccessful in the attempt to save this fated fellow-soldier, he\nhad the pleasure, before the race was over, of saving the life of one\nwho afterward became his warm and helpful friend.\n\nDarting forward with renewed swiftness, after cutting his burden from\nhim, he was again out of immediate danger, when he came across a young\nman, sitting upon a log, calmly awaiting the approach of his enemies. He\nwas deadly pale, but his refined and handsome face wore not the least\nexpression of fear.\n\n\"Don't you know the red-skins are upon us?\" called out the ranger.\n\n\"I know it; but I can not help it. I have never been strong, and now I\nam wounded. I could not take another step to save my life. Go on\u2014don't\nstop to pity me.\"\n\nKennan was too brave himself not to admire the calm courage of this\nyoung man. He looked about. A short distance off he saw an exhausted\nhorse, refreshing himself upon the luxuriant grass. Running after the\nanimal, he caught him without difficulty, brought him up, assisted the\nwounded stranger to mount, and ran by his side until they were out of\ndanger. Fortunately the pursuit ceased about that time, the spoils of\nthe camp offering attractions to the savages more irresistible even than\nthe blood of the remaining whites. The stranger thus saved by Kennan was\nMadison, afterward Governor of Kentucky, who continued through life the\nfriendship formed that day.\n\nKennan never entirely recovered from the superhuman exertions he was\ncompelled to make on that disastrous day.\n\nOf this melancholy campaign of St. Clair's, Hall, in his sketches of the\nWest, says: \"The fault was not in the leader, but in the plan of the\nexpedition, and the kind of troops employed. All that an old commander\ncould effect with such a force, under the circumstances by which he was\nsurrounded and overruled, was accomplished by General St. Clair. The\nbrilliant talents of this brave soldier and veteran patriot were exerted\nin vain in the wilderness. The wariness and perseverance of Indian\nwarfare created every day new obstacles and unforeseen dangers; the\nskill of the experienced leader was baffled, and undisciplined force\nprevailed over military science. The art of the tactician proved\ninsufficient when opposed to a countless multitude of wily savages,\nprotected by the labyrinths of the forest and aided by the terrors of\nthe climate. At a moment of fancied security his troops were assailed\nupon all sides by a numerous and well-organized foe, who had long been\nhanging on his flanks, and had become acquainted with his strength, his\norder of encampment, and the distribution of his force\u2014who knew when to\nattack and where to strike.\"\n\nThe loss on this occasion was mournfully great; thirty-eight officers\nand eight hundred men were slain.\n\nHall further says: \"In reference to all these (Indian) wars, it has\nnever been sufficiently urged, that they were but a continuation, and a\nprotracted sequel to the War of Independence. For years after the United\nStates had been acknowledged as a nation, Great Britain continued to\nhold a number of military posts within her Northwestern limits, and _to\nurge a destructive warfare through her savage allies_. It was against\n_Britain_ that St. Clair, Harmar, Wayne and Harrison fought; and they,\nwith others, who bled in those Western wilds, contributed as much to the\npurchase of our independence, as those who fought for our birthright at\nan earlier period.\"\n\nOh, _mother_-country; how very like the worst personification of a\nstepmother thou hast ever been, and still art, to this fairest of thy\nchildren.\n\nThe Indians are remarkable for fleetness of foot and endurance. Trained\nfrom childhood to the forest and chase, to run without tiring is one of\ntheir most esteemed virtues. They have been known frequently to run down\nthe deer. We have seen them, on the western plains, exhaust the horse in\nthe contest for strength of \"wind.\" One savage of the Osages used to run\nfrom one village to another, a distance of fifteen miles, in one hundred\nminutes, for a swallow of \"fire-water,\" and his squaw once performed the\nfeat in the space of two hours, for the price of three yards of red\nribbon. The stories now related of Ellerson and Kennan prove that, in\nspeed and endurance, the white man sometimes excels even the savages. We\nshall, in the course of these pages, have occasion to mention other\ninstances of running for life.\n\n\n\n\n MOLLY PITCHER AT MONMOUTH.\n\n\nThe battle of Monmouth was one of the most severely contested\nengagements of the Revolution. From the rising to the setting sun, on\nthat sultry Sabbath in June, two armies strove for the mastery of that\nensanguined field, until heaps of dead and dying strewed the plain,\nmarking the path of the serried ranks as the ebb and flow of battle\nchanged their relative positions. Both armies fought with a desperate\ndetermination to conquer, and instances of personal bravery and daring\nwere innumerable; yet, when night drew her sable mantle over the earth,\nshrouding from sight the soul-sickening scene, neither party could claim\nthe meed of victory. Of the many thrilling incidents of that eventful\nday, that which brought into conspicuous notice the heroine of our story\nwas not the least interesting.\n\nMolly Pitcher, or, as she was afterward more familiarly known, Captain\nMolly, was a sturdy young Irish woman of some twenty-two or twenty-three\nyears of age, short, thick-set, with red hair, a freckled face, and a\nkeen, piercing eye, which gave token of a spirit of mischief ever ready\nfor a frolic or a fight. She was the wife of a Sergeant in an artillery\ncorps, which had seen service since the commencement of the war, and was\nattached to him with all the warmth of the Irish disposition. She had\nfollowed him through all his campaigns, and was with him at Fort\nClinton, in the Hudson highlands, when that post was attacked and\ncaptured by Sir Henry Clinton. Here, too, she gave a specimen of that\nreckless courage which distinguished her at Monmouth some nine months\nafter. Her husband, who was in the act of touching off his piece, seeing\nthe British scaling the walls, and getting in his rear, dropped his\nmatch, and calling to Molly to follow, fled as fast as his legs would\ncarry him. She, determined not to waste powder and ball, and knowing\nthat her \"petticoats\" would protect her retreat in a measure, picked up\nthe linstock, fired the piece, and then scampered off. She escaped\nscot-free, and when the scattered fugitives from the forts were\ncollected, and the artillery was attached to the main army, she\naccompanied her husband as a sutler, and was with him through that\nbitter winter at Valley Forge.\n\nWhen Sir Henry Clinton evacuated Philadelphia, and took up his march\nacross the Jerseys, Washington left his winter camp and prepared to\nfollow, hoping to get an opportunity to strike a blow which should\nanimate his own troops and effectually cripple, perhaps capture, the\nBritish army. On the plains of Monmouth the hostile armies met in battle\narray. Of the details of the action it is not our province to speak. It\nwill suffice our purpose to say that Lee had been ordered to attack the\nBritish on their first movement, and engage them until the main army of\nthe Americans could be brought into action by Washington in person. The\nfirst part of his orders he had obeyed; the latter, for reasons never\nfully explained, he did not conform to, but retreated unexpectedly\ntoward the main body, which movement was timely checked by Washington,\nwho ordered the whole army into action. It became necessary, however,\nfor a portion to fall back a second time; and to check the pursuit, the\nartillery, to which Molly's husband was attached, was stationed on an\neminence, in the rear of a hedge-row, for that purpose. Molly herself\nwas engaged in bringing water from a spring to assuage the thirst of the\nmen at the guns, when she saw her husband struck down by a cannon-shot\nfrom the enemy, which cut him nearly in two, killing him instantly; at\nthe same time she heard the commandant order the piece withdrawn, as he\nhad no one to fill the place now vacant. Molly heard the order, and\nmaddened by her loss, rushed forward, exclaiming as she did so: \"No! you\nshan't remove the gun, neither. Shure, can't I ram it as well as Tom,\nthere? Ah! it's kilt entirely he is, bad luck to the bloody vagabond\nthat p'inted the gun that shot him. Sorra a day was it when ye 'listed,\ndarlint, to leave me a lone widdy now, with nary a soul to care whether\nI live or die. But I'll pay the dirty vagabonds for this day's work,\ncuss 'em.\" And thus alternately apostrophizing her husband and\nanathematizing the British, she continued to ram the gun until it was\nwithdrawn. The activity and courage which she exhibited attracted the\nattention of all who witnessed it, and on the morning after the battle\nthe circumstance was reported to General Greene, who was so much pleased\nat her bravery and spirit that he sent for her and determined to present\nher to the Commander-in-Chief. This he did, covered with dirt and blood\nas she was, and Washington, after questioning her, conferred on her a\nwarrant as Sergeant, and subsequently, by his influence, her name was\nplaced on the list of half-pay officers for life. She went ever after by\nthe name of \"_Captain Molly_,\" and the French officers, particularly,\ntook a great deal of notice of her, and made her many presents. She\ndressed in a mongrel suit, composed of a cocked hat, soldier's coat with\nan epaulette on one shoulder, and petticoats. In this rig she would pass\nalong the French lines any day and get her hat filled with crowns.\n\nMolly Pitcher's bravery was not, perhaps, of the highest order, being a\npart of the natural recklessness of her character; but there were women,\nplenty of them, in the time of our country's peril, and during the still\nmore dreadful dangers of the new country, who proved their heroism to be\nof the noblest sort. Not only the heroism of endurance, in which women\nalways excel\u2014the endurance of fear, privation, loneliness and grief\u2014but\nthe heroism of _action_. Of such metal was the deed of prowess which has\nimmortalized the name of Elizabeth Zane. In 1777, Fort Henry, in Ohio\ncounty, Virginia, was attacked by Indians. The defence was made with\nvigor, until the ammunition became exhausted, when surrender seemed the\nonly alternative\u2014a fearful alternative, in view of the treacherous\ncharacter of their enemies. There was a keg of powder in a house about\ntwelve rods distant, to obtain which would prolong the defense, and\nperhaps preserve the lives of the whole garrison. It was resolved that\none person should venture out, and, if possible, secure and bear into\nthe fort the valued prize. The Indians having retired a little distance,\na favorable opportunity was afforded; but it became difficult to decide\nwho should undertake the service, as many soldiers were emulous for the\nhonor of executing the perilous enterprise.\n\nTheir contention was cut short by Miss Zane, who claimed to be chosen\nfor performing the duty, upon the ground that the life of a soldier was\nmore valuable to be employed in defending the fort, and also that her\nsex might save her errand from suspicion and thus secure its success. It\nwas the latter plea, which was somewhat plausible, united to her\nresolution, which overcame the scruples of the officer in command, far\nenough to permit her to make the attempt.\n\nHer sex _might_ protect her! Ah! no one better than the girl herself\nknew how very slender was that \"might\"\u2014for an instant her heart stood\nstill in her bosom, as the gate of the fort opened a little and closed\nbehind her, shutting her out in the very shadow of the valley of death!\nFor one instant her eyes grew dark and her ears rung, and in her bosom\nshe felt, by apprehension, the piercing anguish of a dozen bullets; but,\nas quickly, she rallied, and with a light, fleet foot passed on to the\nhouse, not running, for fear of calling down the suspicions of the\nmurderous eyes which watched her every movement. The Indians observed\nher leave the fort, but, as she had hoped, did not at first comprehend\nher actions, allowing her to pass on to the building, without molesting\nher, probably absorbed in a momentary wonder at her sex and her\naudacity.\n\nShe reached the house, seized the powder, and hastened to return. By\nthis time the savages had recovered from the spell which the first sight\nof the young heroine had thrown upon them; they saw the keg of powder in\nher arms, and with yells of anger, fired a volley after her as she ran\nrapidly toward the fort. Fortunately, not a bullet touched her. As they\nrattled about her, singing past her ears, they only gave activity to her\nmovements. In another moment she was safe within the gate, to the\nunbounded joy of the garrison. Animated by so noble an example, the men\nfought with a vigor which the enemy could not overcome, who were\ncompelled to raise the siege.\n\nThe following anecdote, which is too well authenticated to be disputed,\nfurnishes one instance, among thousands, of that heroic spirit which\nanimated the American women during the struggle for Independence.\n\nIn 1775, a good lady lived on the seaboard, about a day's march from\nBoston, where the British then were. By some unaccountable mistake, a\nrumor was spread, in town and country, in and about her residence, that\nthe regulars were on a march for that place, where they would arrive in\nabout three hours. This was after the battle of Lexington, and all, as\nmight be supposed, was in sad confusion; some were boiling with rage and\nfull of fight; some in fear and tribulation were hiding their treasures;\nothers flying for life. In this wild moment, when most people, in one\nway or another, were frightened from propriety, our heroine, who had two\nsons, aged respectively nineteen and sixteen, was seen preparing them to\ndischarge their duty in the emergency. The eldest she was enabled to\nequip in fine style; she took her husband's fowling-piece, \"made for\nduck or plover,\" (the good man being absent on a coasting voyage to\nVirginia,) and with it, the powder-horn and shot-bag. But the lad,\nthinking the duck and geese-shot not quite the size to kill regulars,\nhis mother, with the chisel, cut up her pewter spoons, hammered them\ninto slugs, put them into his bag, and he set off in great earnest,\ncalling a moment, on the way, to see the parson, who said:\n\n\"Well done, my brave boy. God preserve you!\"\n\nThe youngest was importunate for his equipments, but his mother could\nfind nothing to arm him with but an old rusty sword. The boy seemed\nunwilling to risk himself with this alone, lingering in the street until\nhis mother thus upbraided him:\n\n\"You, John H\u2014\u2014, what will your father say, if he hears that a child of\nhis is afraid to meet the British? Go along; beg or borrow a gun, or\nyou'll find one, child; some coward, I dare say, will be running away;\nthen take his gun and march forward! If you come back, and I hear you\nhave not behaved like a man, I shall carry the blush of shame on my face\nto the grave.\"\n\nShe then shut the door, wiped the tear from her eye, and abided the\nissue.\n\nThere were not wanting American ladies whose wit and courage could bring\nthe blush of shame or anger to the haughty faces of the British\nofficers. There is scarcely a more stinging retort on record than that\nwhich was given to the insolent Tarleton by a lady at Washington, before\nwhom he was boasting his feats of gallantry. Said he:\n\n\"I have a very earnest desire to see your far-famed hero, Colonel\nWashington.\"\n\n\"Your wish, Colonel, might have been fully gratified,\" she promptly\nreplied, \"had you ventured to look behind you at the battle of the\nCowpens.\"\n\n[Illustration:\n\n Molly Pitcher at Monmouth.\u2014_Page_ 44.\n]\n\nIt was in that battle that Washington had wounded Tarleton, which gave\nrise to an equally pointed remark from Mrs. Wiley Jones, to whom\nTarleton had observed:\n\n\"You appear to think very highly of Colonel Washington; yet I have been\ntold that he is so ignorant a fellow that he can hardly write his own\nname.\"\n\n\"It may be the case,\" she readily replied, \"but no one knows better than\nyourself that he knows how to make his _mark_.\"\n\nWe should think that he would have been ready to drop the subject in the\npresence of ladies so well able to defend their country's gallant\nofficers.\n\nMrs. Thomas Heyward, in two instances, with the utmost firmness refused\nto illuminate for British victories. An officer forced his way into her\npresence, sternly demanding:\n\n\"How dare you disobey the order which has been issued? Why, madam, is\nnot your house illuminated?\"\n\n\"Is it possible for me, sir,\" replied the lady, with perfect calmness,\n\"to feel a spark of joy? Can I celebrate the victory of your army while\nmy husband remains a prisoner at St. Augustine?\"\n\n\"That is of little consequence,\" rejoined the officer; \"the last hopes\nof the rebellion are crushed by the defeat of Greene at Guilford. You\nshall illuminate.\"\n\n\"Not a single light,\" replied the lady, \"shall be placed on such an\noccasion, with my consent, in any window of my house.\"\n\n\"Then, madam, I will return with a party, and before midnight, level it\nwith the ground.\"\n\n\"You have power to destroy, sir, and seem well disposed to use it; but\nover my opinions you possess no control. I disregard your menaces, and\nresolutely declare\u2014I will not illuminate!\"\n\nMrs. Rebecca Motte was another lady who proved, in a signal manner, that\nher patriotism was equal to the severest test. After the abandonment of\nCamden to the Americans, Lord Rawdon, anxious to maintain his posts,\ndirected his first efforts to relieve Fort Mott, at the time invested by\nMarion and Lee. This fort, which commanded the river, was the principal\ndepot of the convoys from Charleston to Camden, and the upper districts.\nIt was occupied by a garrison, under the command of Captain McPherson,\nof one hundred and sixty-five men, having been increased by a small\ndetachment of dragoons from Charleston, a few hours before the\nappearance of the Americans.\n\nThe large new mansion-house belonging to Mrs. Motte, which had been\nselected for the establishment of the post, was surrounded by a deep\ntrench, along the interior margin of which was raised a strong and lofty\nparapet. Opposite, and northward, upon another hill, was an old\nfarm-house to which Mrs. Motte had removed when dismissed from her\nmansion. On this height Lieutenant-Colonel Lee took position with his\nforce, while Marion occupied the eastern declivity of the ridge on which\nthe fort stood, the valley running between the two hills permitting the\nAmericans to approach within four hundred yards.\n\nMcPherson was unprovided with artillery, but hoped to be relieved by the\narrival of Lord Rawdon to dislodge the assailants before they could push\ntheir preparations to maturity. He therefore replied to the summons to\nsurrender\u2014which came on May twentieth, about a year after the victorious\nBritish had taken possession of Charleston\u2014that he should hold out to\nthe last moment in his power.\n\nThe besiegers had carried on their approaches rapidly, by relays of\nworking-parties, and, aware of the advance of Rawdon with all his force,\nhad every motive for perseverance. In the night a courier arrived from\nGeneral Greene, to advise them of Rawdon's retreat from Camden, and to\nurge redoubled activity; and Marion persevered through the hours of\ndarkness in pressing the completion of the works. The following night\nLord Rawdon encamped on the highest ground in the country opposite Fort\nMotte, where the despairing garrison saw with joy the illumination of\nhis fires, while the Americans were convinced that no time was to be\nlost.\n\nThe large house in the center of the encircling trench left but a few\nyards of ground within the British works uncovered; burning the mansion,\ntherefore, must compel the surrender of the garrison. This expedient was\nreluctantly resolved upon by Marion and Lee, who, always unwilling to\ndestroy private property, felt the duty to be unusually painful in the\npresent case. It was the summer residence of the owner, whose deceased\nhusband had been a firm friend to his country, and whose daughter (Mrs.\nPinckney) was the wife of a gallant officer then a prisoner in the hands\nof the British. Lee had made Mrs. Motte's dwelling his quarters, at her\npressing invitation, and with his officers had shared her liberal\nhospitality. Not satisfied with polite attentions to the officers while\nthey were entertained at her luxurious table, she had attended, with\nactive benevolence, to the sick and wounded, soothed the infirm with\nkind sympathy, and animated the desponding to hope.\n\nIt was thus not without deep regret that the commanders determined upon\nthe sacrifice, and the Lieutenant-Colonel found himself compelled to\ninform Mrs. Motte of the unavoidable necessity of destroying her\nproperty. The smile with which the communication was received gave\ninstant relief to the embarrassed officer. Mrs. Motte not only assented,\nbut declared that she was \"gratified with the opportunity of\ncontributing to the good of her country, and should view the approaching\nscene with delight.\" Shortly after, seeing by accident the bows and\narrows which had been prepared for to carry combustible matter, she sent\nfor Lee, and, presenting him with a bow and its apparatus, which had\nbeen imported from India, requested his substitution of them, as better\nadapted for the object than those provided.\n\nAn interesting incident, illustrative of female patriotism and activity,\nis given by Mr. Headley as occurring in the church at Litchfield,\nConnecticut. The pastor, Judah Champion, was an ardent patriot, and on a\ncertain Sabbath was earnestly preaching and praying for the success of\nthe American arms. During the service a messenger arrived, announcing\nthat St. John's\u2014which had been besieged six weeks, and was regarded as\nthe key to Canada\u2014was taken. \"Thank God for the victory!\" exclaimed the\npatriot preacher, and the chorister, clapping his hands vigorously,\nshouted: \"Amen, and amen!\"\n\nThe communication of the messenger announced that our army was in a\nsuffering condition, destitute of clothing, without stockings or shoes.\n\"Sorrows and pity took the place of exultation, and generous sympathetic\neyes filled with tears on every side. There was scarcely a dry eye among\nthe females of the congregation. As soon as the audience was dismissed,\nthey were soon gathered together in excited groups, and it was evident\nthat some scheme was on foot that would not admit of delay. The result\nwas, that when the congregation assembled in the afternoon, _not a woman\nwas to be seen_. The men had come to church, but their earnest, noble\nwives and daughters had taken down their hand-cards, drawn forth their\nspinning wheels, set in motion their looms, while the knitting and\nsewing needles were plied as they never were before. It was a strange\nspectacle to see that Puritan Sabbath turned into a day of secular work.\nThe pastor was at the meeting-house, performing those duties belonging\nto the house of God, and the voice of prayer and hymns of praise\nascended as usual from devout and solemn hearts; but all through the\nusually quiet streets of Litchfield the humming of the spinning-wheel,\nthe clash of the shuttle flying to and fro, were heard, making strange\nharmony with the worship of the sanctuary. But let it not be supposed\nthat these noble women had gone to work without the knowledge of their\npastor. They had consulted with him, and he had given them his sanction\nand blessing.\n\n\"Swimming eyes and heaving bosoms were over their work, and lips moved\nin prayer for the destitute and suffering soldier. The pastor's wife\ncontributed eleven blankets from her own stores to the collection.\"\n\nThe women of the Revolution were active in their service of relief and\ncomfort to the armies of the country. \"The supply of domestic cloth\ndesigned for families was in a short time, by the labor of the females,\nconverted into coats for the soldiers; sheets and blankets were\nfashioned into shirts; and even the flannels already made up were\naltered into men's habiliments. Such aid was rendered by many whose\ndeeds of disinterested generosity were never known beyond their own\nimmediate neighborhood.\"\n\nWeights of clocks, pans, dishes, pewter services of plate, then common,\nwere melted by the women and given to the army to be used in defense of\nfreedom.\n\nIn 1776, Lafayette passed through Baltimore, and was honored with a\npublic reception. In the gayeties of the scene he was seen to be sad.\n\"Why so sad?\" said a gay belle. \"I can not enjoy these festivities,\"\nsaid Lafayette, \"while so many of the poor soldiers are without shirts\nand other necessaries.\" \"They shall be supplied,\" responded the fair\nladies; and the scenes of the festive hall were exchanged for the\nservice of their needles. They immediately made up clothing for the\nsuffering soldiers\u2014one of the ladies cutting out five hundred pairs of\npantaloons with her own hands, and superintending the making.\n\nIn 1780, a cold and dreary winter, when the soldiers greatly suffered,\nthe ladies of Philadelphia formed an Industrial Association for the\nrelief of the American army. They solicited money, sacrificed their\njewelry, and labored with their own hands. Mrs. Bache, daughter of Dr.\nFranklin, was a leading spirit in these patriotic efforts. \"She\nconducted us,\" said a French nobleman, in describing the scene, \"into a\nroom filled with work lately finished by the ladies of Philadelphia. It\nwas shirts for the soldiers of Pennsylvania. The ladies bought the cloth\nfrom their own private purses, and took a pleasure in cutting them out\nand sewing them together. On each shirt was the name of the married or\nunmarried lady who made it; and they amounted to twenty-two hundred.\nDuring the cold winter that followed, thousands of poor soldiers in\nWashington's camp had occasion to bless the women of Philadelphia for\nthese labors of love.\"\n\n\n\n\n THE BARONESS DE REIDESEL.\n\n\nOne of the most interesting papers of personal reminiscences, which has\ncome down to us from Revolutionary times, is the narrative by the\nBaroness de Reidesel, wife of the distinguished German, the Baron de\nReidesel, a Major-General in Burgoyne's army of invasion. With all the\ntruth of a high-minded lady, and the devotion of a true wife and mother,\nshe accompanied her husband to America, and was present at the\ndisastrous defeat of Burgoyne at Saratoga. Her story gives us an inside\nview of the British camp, and reveals the hardships to which she was\nexposed. After the battle of Saratoga she witnessed the British retreat,\nand never after could refer to it without weeping\u2014the terrible scene so\naffected her. In his rather pretentious \"memoirs,\" General Wilkinson has\nengrafted her entire narrative. We give our readers so much of the\ninteresting document as our space permits. The \"women of America\" will\nperuse it with intense interest. After detailing her experiences up to\nthe day of battle, (October 7th, 1779,) she proceeds:\n\n\"I was at breakfast with my husband and heard that something was\nintended. On the same day I expected Generals Burgoyne, Phillips and\nFrazer to dine with us. I saw a great movement among the troops; my\nhusband told me it was merely a reconnoissance, which gave me no\nconcern, as it often happened. I walked out of the house and met several\nIndians in their war-dresses, with guns in their hands. When I asked\nthem where they were going, they cried out: 'War! war!' meaning that\nthey were going to battle. This filled me with apprehension, and I had\nscarcely got home before I heard reports of cannon and musketry, which\ngrew louder by degrees, till at last the noise became excessive.\n\n\"About four o'clock in the afternoon, instead of the guests whom I\nexpected, General Frazer was brought on a litter, mortally wounded. The\ntable, which was already set, was instantly removed, and a bed placed in\nits stead for the wounded General. I sat trembling in a corner; the\nnoise grew louder, and the alarm increased; the thought that my husband\nmight be brought in, wounded in the same manner, was terrible to me, and\ndistressed me exceedingly. General Frazer said to the surgeon, '_Tell me\nif my wound is mortal; do not flatter me._' The ball had passed through,\nhis body, and, unhappily for the General, he had eaten a very hearty\nbreakfast, by which his stomach was distended, and the ball, as the\nsurgeon said, had passed through it. I heard him often exclaim, with a\nsigh, '_Oh fatal ambition! Poor General Burgoyne! Oh! my poor wife!_' He\nwas asked if he had any request to make, to which he replied, that, '_If\nGeneral Burgoyne would permit it, he would like to be buried, at six\no'clock in the evening, on the top of a mountain, in a redoubt which had\nbeen built there._'\n\n\"I did not know which way to turn; all the other rooms were full of\nsick. Toward evening I saw my husband coming; then I forgot all my\nsorrows, and thanked God that he was spared to me. He ate in great\nhaste, with me and his aid-de-camp, behind the house. We had been told\nthat we had the advantage over the enemy, but the sorrowful faces I\nbeheld told a different tale; and before my husband went away he took me\naside, and said every thing was going very badly, and that I must keep\nmyself in readiness to leave the place, but not to mention it to any\none. I made the pretense that I would move the next morning into my new\nhouse, and had every thing packed up ready.\n\n\"Lady Ackland had a tent not far from our house; in this she slept, and\nthe rest of the day she was in the camp. All of a sudden a man came in\nto tell her that her husband was mortally wounded, and taken prisoner.\nOn hearing this she became very miserable. We comforted her by telling\nher that the wound was very slight, and advised her to go over to her\nhusband, to do which she would certainly obtain permission, and then she\ncould attend him herself. She was a charming woman, and very fond of\nhim. I spent much of the night in comforting her, and then went again to\nmy children, whom I had put to bed.\n\n\"I could not go to sleep, as I had General Frazer and all the other\nwounded gentlemen in my room, and I was sadly afraid my children would\nwake, and by their crying disturb the dying man in his last moments, who\noften addressed me and apologized '_for the trouble he gave me_.' About\nthree o'clock in the morning, I was told that he could not hold out much\nlonger; I had desired to be informed of the near approach of this sad\ncrisis, and I then wrapped up my children in their clothes, and went\nwith them into the room below. About eight o'clock in the morning _he\ndied_.\n\n\"After he was laid out, and his corpse wrapped up in a sheet, we came\nagain into the room, and had this sorrowful sight before us the whole\nday; and, to add to the melancholy scene, almost every moment some\nofficer of my acquaintance was brought in wounded. The cannonade\ncommenced again; a retreat was spoken of, but not the smallest motion\nwas made toward it. About four o'clock in the afternoon, I saw the\nhouse, which had just been built for me, in flames, and the enemy was\nnow not far off. We knew that General Burgoyne would not refuse the last\nrequest of General Frazer, though, by his acceding to it, an unnecessary\ndelay was occasioned, by which the inconvenience of the army was much\nincreased. At six o'clock the corpse was brought out, and we saw all the\nGenerals attend it to the mountain. The Chaplain, Mr. Brudenell,\nperformed the funeral service, rendered unusually solemn and awful from\nits being accompanied by constant peals of the enemy's artillery. Many\ncannon-balls flew close by me, but I had my eyes directed toward the\nmountain, where my husband was standing, amidst the fire of the enemy;\nand, of course, I could not think of my own danger.\n\n\"General Gates afterward said, that, if he had known it had been a\nfuneral, he would not have permitted it to be fired on.\n\n\"As soon as the funeral service was finished, and the grave of General\nFrazer closed, an order was issued that the army should retreat. My\ncalash was prepared, but I would not consent to go before the troops.\nMajor Harnage, though suffering from his wounds, crept from his bed, as\nhe did not wish to remain in the hospital, which was left with a flag of\ntruce. When General Reidesel saw me in the midst of danger, he ordered\nmy women and children to be brought into the calash, and intimated to me\nto depart without delay. I still prayed to remain, but my husband,\nknowing my weak side, said, 'Well, then, your children must go, that at\nleast they may be safe from danger.' I _then_ agreed to enter the calash\nwith them, and we set off at eight o'clock.\n\n\"The retreat was ordered to be conducted with the greatest silence, many\nfires were lighted, and several tents left standing; we traveled\ncontinually through the night. At six o'clock in the morning we halted,\nwhich excited the surprise of all; this delay seemed to displease\neverybody, for if we could only have made another good march we should\nhave been in safety. My husband, quite exhausted with fatigue, came into\nmy calash, and slept for three hours. During that time, Captain Willoe\nbrought me a bag full of bank notes, and Captain Grismar his elegant\ngold watch, a ring, and a purse full of money, which they requested me\nto take care of, and which I promised to do, to the utmost of my power.\nWe again marched, but had scarcely proceeded an hour, before we halted,\nas the enemy was in sight; it proved to be only a reconnoitering party\nof two hundred men, who might easily have been made prisoners, if\nGeneral Burgoyne had given proper orders for the occasion.\n\n\"The Indians had now lost their courage, and were departing for their\nhomes; these people appeared to droop much under adversity, and\nespecially when they had no prospect of plunder. One of my waiting-women\nwas in a state of despair, which approached to madness; she cursed and\ntore her hair, and when I attempted to reason with her, and to pacify\nher, she asked me if I was not grieved at our situation, and on my\nsaying I was, she tore her hat off her head and let her hair fall over\nher face, saying to me, 'It is very easy for you to be composed and\ntalk; you have your husband with you; I have none, and what remains to\nme but the prospect of perishing or losing all I have?' I again bade her\ntake comfort, and assured her I would make good whatever she might\nhappen to lose; and I made the same promise to Ellen, my other\nwaiting-woman, who, though filled with apprehension, made no complaints.\n\n\"About evening we arrived at Saratoga; my dress was wet through and\nthrough with rain, and in this state I had to remain the whole night,\nhaving no place to change it; I however got close to a large fire, and\nat last lay down on some straw. At this moment General Phillips came up\nto me, and I asked him why he had not continued our retreat, as my\nhusband had promised to cover it, and bring the army through? 'Poor,\ndear woman,' said he, 'I wonder how, drenched as you are, you have the\ncourage still to persevere, and venture further in this kind of weather;\nI wish,' continued he, 'you was our commanding General; General Burgoyne\nis tired, and means to halt here to-night and give us our supper.'\n\n\"On the morning of the 17th, at ten o'clock, General Burgoyne ordered\nthe retreat to be continued, and caused the handsome houses and mills of\nGeneral Schuyler to be burnt; we marched, however, but a short distance,\nand then halted. The greatest misery at this time prevailed in the army,\nand more than thirty officers came to me, for whom tea and coffee was\nprepared, and with whom I shared all my provisions, with which my calash\nwas in general well supplied, for I had a cook who was an excellent\ncaterer, and who often in the night crossed small rivers, and foraged on\nthe inhabitants, bringing in with him sheep, small pigs, and poultry,\nfor which he very often forgot to pay, though he received good pay from\nme so long as I had any, and was ultimately handsomely rewarded. Our\nprovisions now failed us, for want of proper conduct in the commissary's\ndepartment, and I began to despair.\n\n\"About two o'clock in the afternoon, we again heard a firing of cannon\nand small-arms; instantly all was alarm, and every thing in motion. My\nhusband told me to go to a house not far off. I immediately seated\nmyself in my calash, with my children, and drove off; but scarcely had\nwe reached it before I discovered five or six armed men on the other\nside of the Hudson. Instinctively I threw my children down in the\ncalash, and then concealed myself with them. At this moment the fellows\nfired, and wounded an already wounded English soldier, who was behind\nme. Poor fellow! I pitied him exceedingly, but at this moment had no\nmeans or power to relieve him.\n\n\"A terrible cannonade was commenced by the enemy, against the house in\nwhich I sought to obtain shelter for myself and children, under the\nmistaken idea that all the Generals were in it. Alas! it contained none\nbut wounded and women. We were at last obliged to resort to the cellar\nfor refuge, and in one corner of this I remained the whole day, my\nchildren sleeping on the earth with their heads in my lap; and in the\nsame situation I passed a sleepless night. Eleven cannon-balls passed\nthrough the house, and we could distinctly hear them roll away. One poor\nsoldier who was lying on a table, for the purpose of having his leg\namputated, was struck by a shot, which carried away his other; his\ncomrades had left him, and when we went to his assistance, we found him\nin the corner of a room, into which he had crept, more dead than alive,\nscarcely breathing. My reflections on the danger to which my husband was\nexposed now agonized me exceedingly, and thoughts of my children, and\nthe necessity of struggling for their preservation, alone sustained me.\n\n\"The ladies of the army who were with me, were Mrs. Harnage, a Mrs.\nKennels, the widow of a Lieutenant who was killed, and the lady of the\ncommissary. Major Harnage, his wife, and Mrs. Kennels, made a little\nroom in a corner with curtains to it, and wished to do the same for me,\nbut I preferred being near the door, in case of fire. Not far off my\nwomen slept, and opposite to us three English officers, who, though\nwounded, were determined not to be left behind; one of them was Captain\nGreen, an aid-de-camp to Major-General Phillips, a very valuable officer\nand most agreeable man. They each made me a most sacred promise not to\nleave me behind, and, in case of sudden retreat, that they would each of\nthem take one of my children on his horse; and for myself, one of my\nhusband's was in constant readiness.\n\n\"Our cook, whom I have before mentioned, procured us our meals, but we\nwere in want of water, and I was often obliged to drink wine, and to\ngive it to my children. It was the only thing my husband took, which\nmade our faithful hunter, Rockel, express one day his apprehensions,\nthat 'the General was weary of his life, or fearful of being taken, as\nhe drank so much wine.' The constant danger which my husband was in,\nkept me in a state of wretchedness; and I asked myself if it was\npossible I should be the only happy one, and have my husband spared to\nme unhurt, exposed as he was to so many perils. He never entered his\ntent, but lay down whole nights by the watch-fires; this alone was\nenough to have killed him, the cold was so intense.\n\n\"The want of water distressed us much; at length we found a soldier's\nwife, who had courage enough to fetch us some from the river, an office\nnobody else would undertake, as the Americans shot at every person who\napproached it; but out of respect for her sex, they never molested\n_her_.\n\n\"I now occupied myself through the day in attending to the wounded; I\nmade them tea and coffee, and often shared my dinner with them, for\nwhich they offered me a thousand expressions of gratitude. One day a\nCanadian officer came to our cellar, who had scarcely the power to hold\nhimself upright, and we concluded he was dying for want of nourishment;\nI was happy in offering him my dinner, which strengthened him, and\nprocured me his friendship. I now undertook the care of Major\nBloomfield, another aid-de-camp of General Phillips; he had received a\nmusket-ball through both cheeks, which in its course had knocked out\nseveral of his teeth, and cut his tongue; he could hold nothing in his\nmouth, the matter which ran from his wound almost choked him, and he was\nnot able to take any nourishment except a little soup, and something\nliquid. We had some Rhenish wine, and in the hope that the acidity of it\nwould cleanse his wound, I gave him a bottle of it. He took a little now\nand then, and with such effect that his cure soon followed: thus I added\nanother to my stock of friends, and derived a satisfaction which, in the\nmidst of suffering, served to tranquilize me.\n\n\"One day, General Phillips accompanied my husband, at the risk of their\nlives, on a visit to us. The General, after having witnessed our\nsituation, said to him, 'I would not for ten thousand guineas come again\nto this place, my heart is almost broken.'\n\n\"In this horrid situation we remained six days; a cessation of\nhostilities was now spoken of, and eventually took place. A convention\nwas afterward agreed on; but one day a message was sent to my husband\nwho had visited me, and was reposing in my bed, to attend a council of\nwar, where it was proposed to break the convention; but, to my great\njoy, the majority were for adhering to it. On the sixteenth, however, my\nhusband had to repair to his post, and I to my cellar. This day fresh\nbeef was served out to the officers, who till now had only had salt\nprovisions, which was very bad for their wounds. The good woman who\nbrought us water made us an excellent soup of the meat, but I had lost\nmy appetite, and took nothing but crusts of bread dipped in wine. The\nwounded officers, my unfortunate companions, cut off the best bit, and\npresented it to me on a plate. I declined eating any thing, but they\ncontended that it was necessary for me to take nourishment, and declared\nthey would not touch a morsel till I afforded them the pleasure of\nseeing me partake. I could no longer withstand their pressing\ninvitations, accompanied as they were by assurances of the happiness\nthey had in offering me the first good thing they had in their power,\nand I partook of a repast rendered palatable by the kindness and\ngood-will of my fellow-sufferers, forgetting for a moment the misery of\nour apartment, and the absence of almost every comfort.\n\n\"On the 17th of October, the convention was completed. General Burgoyne\nand the other Generals waited on the American General Gates; the troops\nlaid down their arms, and gave themselves up prisoners of war! And now\nthe good woman who had supplied us with water at the hazard of her life\nreceived the reward of her services; each of us threw a handful of money\ninto her apron, and she got altogether about twenty guineas. At such a\nmoment as this how susceptible is the heart of feelings of gratitude!\n\n\"My husband sent a message to me, to come over to him with my two\nchildren. I seated myself once more in my dear calash, and then rode\nthrough the American camp. As I passed on, I observed, and this was a\ngreat consolation to me, that no one eyed me with looks of resentment,\nbut that they all greeted us, and even showed compassion in their\ncountenances at the sight of a woman with small children. I was, I\nconfess, afraid to go over to the enemy, as it was quite a new situation\nto me. When I drew near the tents, a handsome man approached and met me,\n_took my children from the calash, and hugged and kissed them, which\nalmost affected me to tears_. 'You tremble,' said he, addressing himself\nto me; 'be not afraid.' 'No,' I answered, 'you seem so kind and tender\nto my children, it inspires me with courage.' He now led me to the tent\nof General Gates, where I found Generals Burgoyne and Phillips, who were\non a friendly footing with the former. Burgoyne said to me, 'Never mind;\nyour sorrows have an end.' I answered him, 'that I should be\nreprehensible to have any cares, as he had none; and I was pleased to\nsee him on such friendly footing with General Gates.' All the Generals\nremained to dine with General Gates.\n\n\"The same gentleman who received me so kindly, now came and said to me,\n'You will be very much embarrassed to eat with all these gentlemen;\n_come with your children to my tent, where I will prepare for you a\nfrugal dinner, and give it with a free will_.' I said, '_You are\ncertainly a husband and a father, you have showed me so much kindness._'\nI now found that he was GENERAL SCHUYLER. He treated me with excellent\nsmoked tongue, beefsteak, potatoes, and good bread and butter! Never\ncould I have wished to eat a better dinner; I was content; I saw all\naround me were so likewise; and what was better than all, my husband was\nout of danger.\n\n\"When we had dined, he told me his residence was at Albany, and that\nGeneral Burgoyne intended to honor him as his guest, and invited myself\nand children to do so likewise. I asked my husband how I should act; he\ntold me to accept the invitation. As it was two days' journey there, he\nadvised me to go to a place which was about three hours' ride distant.\nGeneral Schuyler had the politeness to send with me a French officer, a\nvery agreeable man, who commanded the reconnoitering party of which I\nhave before spoken; and when he had escorted me to the house where I was\nto remain, he turned back again.\n\n\"Some days after this we arrived at Albany, where we so often wished\nourselves; but we did not enter it as we expected we should\u2014victors! We\nwere received by the good General Schuyler, his wife and daughters, not\nas enemies, but as kind friends; and they treated us with the most\nmarked attention and politeness, as they did General Burgoyne, who had\ncaused General Schuyler's beautifully finished house to be burnt. In\nfact, they behaved like persons of exalted minds, who determined to bury\nall recollections of their own injuries in the contemplation of our\nmisfortunes. General Burgoyne was struck with General Schuyler's\ngenerosity, and said to him, 'You show me great kindness, though I have\ndone you much injury.' 'That was the fate of war,' replied the brave\nman, 'let us say no more about it.'\"\n\nThis presents a picture of those trying times upon which it is both\npleasurable and painful to dwell. It outlines General Schuyler as a\nnoble nature, which is true to history. He was a brave among the\nbrave\u2014chivalrous as the Cid, gentle as a woman, wise as Solomon. Next to\nGreene, he is regarded by those most conversant with the men of the\nRevolution, as the column which most sustained Washington in his\ngigantic labors; while, as one of those who, after our independence was\nwon, contributed most toward the reorganization of government and\nsociety. It is agreeable to contemplate such a character, for it\nheightens the worship which this generation feels for those who won the\npriceless boon of a nation's freedom!\n\n[Illustration:\n\n The Little Sentinel.\u2014_Page_ 7\n]\n\n\n\n\n TALES,\n\n TRADITIONS AND ROMANCE\n\n OF\n\n BORDER AND REVOLUTIONARY TIMES.\n\n THE LITTLE SENTINEL.\n TECUMSEH AND THE PRISONERS.\n HORSEWHIPPING A TYRANT.\n THE MOTHER'S TRIAL.\n\n NEW YORK:\n BEADLE AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS,\n 118 WILLIAM STREET.\n\n\n\n\n Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by\n BEADLE AND COMPANY,\n In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for\n the Southern District of New York.\n\n\n\n\n THE\n LITTLE SENTINEL.\n\n\nA tall, portly-looking man stood on a table in the midst of a crowd of\nfarmer-like individuals, haranguing them in an energetic manner\nregarding the crisis in affairs of the country. He was dressed in the\nscarlet and buff regimentals of a British officer, although, like the\nmost of his audience, he was a resident of the neighborhood. The time\nwas that important period in the history of our country just succeeding\nthe battles of Lexington and Bunker Hill, when every man felt called\nupon to decide the part he should take in the contest which all saw was\nimpending. The place was the vicinity of Scoharie Kill, a branch of the\nMohawk river, in the State of New York. The persons, George Mann, a\nloyalist of great wealth, three of the king's Commissioners, and the\nyeomanry of the neighborhood, from the gray-haired man of sixty winters,\nto the youth of sixteen and eighteen summers: in fact, all the male\npopulation of the Scoharie valley capable of bearing arms. The king had\n\"honored\" Mann with a Captain's commission, and the Commissioners had\ncalled the people together for the purpose of administering the oath of\nallegiance and recruiting from their number a company, to the command of\nwhich Mann was to be assigned. They had been ordered to bring their arms\nwith them, and a large majority had done so. Their equipments were as\nvaried as their opinions\u2014and these were of many shades\u2014from the\ndetermined and bitter Tory, through the various degrees of loyalty to\nthe wavering and undecided; and thence to the lukewarm, warm, devoted,\nand ardent Whig. Such as had taken the oath were adorned with a piece of\nscarlet cloth stuck in their hats; while some, more enthusiastic than\nothers, wore scarlet caps. All these were enrolled and mustered under\narms, preparatory to receiving the drill from their new Captain. Many of\nthe lukewarm and undecided took the oath of allegiance from fear of\nconsequences. There were but a limited few bold and determined enough to\nabjure the oath and all allegiance to the king. Of this number were\nNicholas Stemberg and William Dietz, who had been so earnest in their\ndenunciations of the tyranny and injustice of the mother country, that,\nwhen they left for home on the evening of the first day, they were\nassailed with denunciations of vengeance. They were proclaimed as\ntraitors, and threatened with a nocturnal visit by the bitterest among\nthose whom the occasion had shown to be their enemies. Fearing these\nthreats would be put into execution, Stemberg spent the night in the\nwoods, while his family were trembling with fear at home. On his return\nto that home in the morning, he was agreeably disappointed to find it\nundisturbed, and, with his neighbor Dietz, again repaired to the parade,\nwith an unaltered determination, however, to take no obligation of\nallegiance. They found, on arriving at Mann's house, that upward of one\nhundred were enrolled and scattered about the grounds; while others, who\nhad not made up their minds upon which side they should range\nthemselves, were listening to an ardent harangue from the Captain.\nMounted on a table, and dressed in all the paraphernalia of war, he was\nalternately coaxing, wheedling, and urging them to take part in the raid\nagainst rebellion, commanding those who had already enrolled themselves,\nand threatening dire vengeance, confiscation of property, imprisonment\nand death, against those who dared to side with the rebels. The hour\nseemed propitious, and the loyal Captain was carrying every thing before\nhis storm of eloquence and denunciations, when, in the twinkling of an\neye, a storm of a different kind burst upon his head, which scattered to\nthe winds the results of all his efforts. News of the Captain's labors\nhad been conveyed to Albany, and while he was in the midst of one of his\nmost earnest appeals, two hundred horsemen, under command of Captain\nWoodbake, made their appearance, tearing up the road, with sabers drawn\nand determination flashing from their eyes. One glance was\nall-sufficient for the doughty Captain, and the next moment\u2014his\ncoat-skirts flying in the wind, his queue sticking straight out behind\nhim\u2014he was on his way to the shelter of the neighboring woods as fast as\nhis legs could carry him. His followers were immediately transformed\ninto firm and devoted patriots, except a certain few who had been such\nenthusiastic Tories that they could not hope to escape merited\npunishment, and these pursued their flying commander. The scarlet badges\ndisappeared in the most sudden and unaccountable manner, and when\nCaptain Woodbake and his party reached the spot where the loyal Captain\nhad stood, he found none but Whigs to receive him. His object,\ntherefore\u2014the dispersion of the meeting without bloodshed\u2014was\naccomplished, and he proceeded to proclaim the rule of Congress. Before\ndoing so, however, he gave orders that Mann should be taken, either dead\nor alive. There were plenty willing to undertake this task, and patrols\nwere soon stationed in every direction, so that it was nearly impossible\nfor him to escape.\n\nAmong others who volunteered for this duty, was Lambert, the eldest son\nof Nicholas Stemberg, a lad of fifteen or sixteen years. He was\nstationed by the side of one of those structures called _barracks_, so\noften seen in a new country, consisting of a thatch supported on four\nposts over a stack of wheat or hay. The youth was proud of his trust,\ndesiring nothing more earnestly than to meet with the Captain and take\nhim prisoner. During the afternoon, a violent thunder-storm arose, and\nto shelter himself from its inclemencies, the young sentry climbed to\nthe top of the stack, where, to his astonishment, he found the loyal\nfugitive snugly ensconced. Presenting his musket to his breast, he\ninformed him that his orders were to take him, dead or alive\u2014and he must\nsurrender or be shot. The Captain, whose courage and lofty bearing had\nleft him simultaneously with the appearance of Woodbake, begged hard for\nhis life, and besought the young patriot to allow him to escape; for, if\ntaken prisoner, he would be hung by the militia men to the first tree,\nwithout shrift or absolution. Stemberg replied that his orders were\nimperative, and he dared not disobey them. But Mann implored for mercy\nin such piteous tones\u2014reminding him that he was a neighbor, had never\ndone him harm, had ever been kind to him, &c., &c.\u2014that a violent\nstruggle took place in the breast of the young soldier between his duty\nand his sympathy. He could not shoot him in cold blood, and he would not\nsurrender; so, to compromise the matter with himself, he proposed to\nfire his musket in token of alarm, that others might come and take his\nprisoner. This was earnestly objected to by the Captain, who saw the\nstruggle going on in his captor's breast, and determined to take\nadvantage of it. Watching his opportunity, therefore, when his attention\nwas removed from him, and a violent clap of thunder covered his\nmovement, he slipped off the stack, and sliding down one of the posts,\nmade a rapid retreat for the mountains. Stemberg, as in duty bound,\nfired his musket at him, but was not sorry that his shot was fruitless.\nThe report soon brought others to the spot, and after hearing the story\nof the tender-hearted sentinel, they immediately started in pursuit of\nthe fugitive, who had many narrow escapes, but finally eluded their\nvigilance and hid himself in the fastnesses of the hills, where he\nremained for two weeks. He was induced, at the end of that time, to\nsurrender, upon the condition that he should not suffer personal injury.\nHe was taken to Albany, where he was kept a close prisoner until the end\nof the war, when he again returned to his estate, and, becoming a firm\nRepublican, ended his days there.\n\nThose who think young Stemberg's neighborly feelings made him too\nlenient toward the humiliated loyalist, will be better pleased with the\nfollowing record of the resolute manner in which another lad captured\nand controlled a couple of desperadoes.\n\nOn a fine May morning, 1780, as the family of Sheriff Firman, of\nFreehold county, New Jersey, was at breakfast, a breathless soldier\nburst into the room, stating that as he and another were conducting to\nthe court-house two men, taken up on suspicion at Colt's Neck, they had\nknocked down his comrade, seized his musket, and escaped. The Sheriff,\non hearing this relation, mounted his horse and galloped to the\ncourt-house to alarm the guard. His son, Tunis, a lad of about\nseventeen, small of his age, seized a musket, loaded only with small\nshot to kill blackbirds in the cornfields, and, putting on a\ncartridge-box, sent his little brother up stairs for the bayonet, and\nthen, forgetting to wait for it, hurried off alone in pursuit.\n\nAfter running in a westerly direction about a mile, he discovered the\nmen sitting on a fence, who, perceiving him, ran into a swamp. As the\nmorning was warm, he hastily pulled off his shoes and coat, and darted\nin after them, keeping close after them for over a mile, when they got\nout of the swamp, and climbed into separate trees. As he came up one of\nthem discharged at him the musket taken from the guard. The ball\nwhistled over his head. Feeling for his bayonet, he discovered that it\nwas still with his little brother. He then pointed his gun at the man\nwith the musket, but deemed it imprudent to fire, reflecting that, even\nif he killed him, his comrade could easily match such a stripling as\nhimself. He compelled the man to throw down the musket by threatening\nhim with instant death if he did not comply. Then, loading the fusee\nfrom his cartridge-box, he forced his prisoners down from the trees,\nand, armed with his two loaded muskets, drove them toward the\ncourt-house, careful, however, to keep them far apart, to prevent\nconversation. Passing by a spring, they requested permission to drink.\n\n\"No!\" replied the courageous boy, understanding their design, \"you can\ndo without it as well as myself; you shall have some by-and-by.\"\n\nSoon after, his father, at the head of a party of soldiers, galloped\npast in the road within a short distance. Tunis hallooed, but the\nclattering of their horses' hoofs drowned his voice. At length he\nreached the village, and lodged his prisoners in the county prison.\n\nIt was subsequently discovered that these men were brothers, from near\nPhiladelphia; that they had robbed and murdered a Mr. Boyd, a collector\nof taxes in Chester county, and, when taken, were on their way to join\nthe British. As they had been apprehended on suspicion merely of being\nrefugees, no definite charge could be brought against them. A few days\nlater, Sheriff Firman saw an advertisement in a Philadelphia paper,\ndescribing them, with the facts above mentioned, and a reward of twenty\nthousand dollars (_Continental_ money,) offered for their apprehension.\nHe, accompanied by his son, took them on there, where they were tried\nand executed. On entering Philadelphia, young Tunis was carried through\nthe streets in triumph upon the shoulders of the military. In the latter\npart of the war this young man became very active, and was the special\nfavorite of General David Firman.\n\nNot solitary are the incidents of boyish heroism on record; and yet how\nfar the larger number must have passed unnoticed, in the midst of the\ntrials and excitements of those troublous Revolutionary times. Children\ncatch the fire which burns in the parent heart; and where the father\nrushes eagerly to the salvation of his country, and the\nmother\u2014concealing her sadness and fears, puts on a hopeful countenance,\nspeaking the ennobling sentiments of patriotism\u2014it may well be credited\nthat the boys were not cowards. We have some very interesting\nrecollections of that period preserved in the private Diary of the wife\nof a Revolutionary officer, who, while her husband served his country on\nthe battle-field, remained with her father, who was a clergyman of the\nChurch of England, at their little parsonage on Long Island, and whose\ndaily jottings down of events and emotions, just as they were seen and\nfelt, make her simple pictures full of the power of reality. When we\nread them we feel as if that time were before us, and those actors still\nlived. Long Island, after the memorable retreat of Gen. Washington, on\nthe morning of the 30th of August, 1776, remained in the hands of the\nenemy, and was the scene of many distressing outrages and calamities of\nall kinds\u2014pillage, insult, robbery, the destruction of farm implements,\nthe impressment of men and horses, with the horrors of a prowling hired\nsoldiery, and frequent murders, being among the dark list. Speaking of\nthe spirit of the boys of those days, leads us to quote from the lady's\nDiary:\n\n\"_Wednesday, Nov. 24th, 1776._\u2014Yesterday my indignation was aroused to a\nhigh degree. I was sitting in the end of the porch, my father at my\nside, and little Mary, with your letter in her hands, pretending to read\nit, when a loud cry startled us. It seemed to come from Pattison's, our\nnearest neighbor. Charles went over, returned, and gave us this account\nof the affair. It appears that Edmund Pattison was enjoying his noon\nrest quietly in the barn (he is a noble-looking lad of eighteen, tall,\nathletic, and of a high spirit,) when a light-horseman rode up to the\ndoor.\n\n\"'Youngster,' said he, 'make haste and bestir yourself. Go and assist\nthat driver of the two yoke of oxen there to unload his cart of timber\ninto the road.'\n\n\"Now, Edmund had been hard at work with his own hired man, loading the\nwagon, to take the timber to a farmer three miles off, to whom it was\nsold by his father; the wagon and teams both belonged to the Pattisons.\n\n\"'Hurry, sir,' said the light-horseman.\n\n\"Edmund firmly replied: 'I shall not do it.'\n\n\"'What, sirrah! we shall see who will do it,' and drawing his sword, he\nheld it over Edmund's head, cursing, swearing, and threatening to cut\nhim down unless he instantly unloaded his team and helped to carry in it\nprovisions to the British army.\n\n\"With unblanched cheek, Edmund Pattison reiterated his denial, telling\nhim to do it for himself. Enraged beyond measure at such a contempt of\norders, it seemed as if the man _must_ strike and kill the stubborn boy,\nwho, firm and undaunted, said not a word.\n\n\"At this time our Charles, who was on the spot, ran to the house and\ntold Mrs. Pattison that 'the Britisher was going to kill her Edmund.'\n\n\"_Her_ cry it was that we heard from the porch. She ran to the barn and\nbegged the soldier to desist. He was more furious than ever, supposing\nthe fears of the mother would induce compliance. She, too, expostulated\nwith her son, imploring him to assist in unloading the wagon, and save\nhimself from death.\n\n\"'No fear of death, mother; he dare not touch a hair of my head.'\n\n\"The boy grew more determined, the soldier more enraged\u2014flourishing his\nsaber and swearing that he would be the death of him.\n\n\"'You dare not. I will report you to your master for this,' said Edmund,\nboldly. Upon this the light-horseman mounted, telling the boy once more\nthat if he did not instantly begin the work he would cut him into inch\npieces. Edmund coolly walked across the barn floor, armed himself with a\npitchfork, and took his station in the doorway.\n\n\"'You cowardly rascal,' said he, 'clear out, or I'll stab you with my\npitchfork!'\n\n\"His mother could endure the scene no longer; she ran to the house,\nwhere she met her husband, and sent him to rescue Edmund. Friend\nPattison, a sensible, clear-headed man, rode up, and seeing matters at\nthis high pass, said to the Britisher: 'You know your duty; you have no\nright to lay a finger on him, a non-combatant on neutral ground.' Seeing\nno signs of relenting, farmer Pattison turned his horse toward the road,\nsaying he would soon see Colonel Wurms, and know _who_ had the power to\nthreaten and abuse the farmers of the country in that style. The\nlight-horseman was now alarmed. Thinking it best to get there first, he\nput spurs to his horse, riding off with awful imprecations.\n\n\"Thus Edmund escaped for this time; though I much fear his defying,\nfearless spirit may yet cost him dear.\"\n\nOn another page she relates an anecdote of her own son.\n\n\"_Tuesday._\u2014A press for horses yesterday. I will relate how Charley\nsaved our young horse. He and James Pattison were idly sitting on the\nfence, the other side of the pond, talking indignantly of the insults of\nthe British, to whom the former shows no mercy, when they espied a\nlight-horsemen at a farm-house door. They knew the next place would be\nIsaac Willett's, which, though only across the pond, is completely hid\nfrom our view by a stately row of poplars, forming a leafy screen; and\nthey knew his errand, too\u2014that he would be here in an instant, for when\n'pressing' they galloped from house to house with violent speed.\n\n\"'Fleetfoot shall not go,' said Charles, 'without an effort to save\nhim,' and, running with all his might to the barn, he jumped on his back\nand rode for the woods.\n\n\"On the instant he was seen by the red-coat, who put spurs to his horse,\nand came on a full run toward the woods, where Charles had disappeared.\nMy heart beat quick when the red-coat, too, was lost to sight. My dear,\nbrave child might fall from his horse, and be dashed against the trees\nin the hot pursuit of the light-horseman.\n\n\"My father and I sat gazing intently toward the woods, awaiting the\nresult in breathless anxiety, astonished at the boy's daring, and ready\nto reprove his rash spirit, in attempting to save the young horse at the\nrisk of his own neck. In about an hour's time we saw the red-coat come\nout of the woods below. He stopped a man in the road and made inquiries,\nbut getting no satisfaction, rode off.\n\n\"At nightfall, peeping his way through the wood, Charles made his\nappearance, still mounted on his favorite Fleetfoot. By signs we made\nknown to him that the danger was past, and he rode up to the house.\n\n\"Overjoyed to see him, he told us his story, which Grace and Marcia\ndrank in with greedy ears. Indeed, the scene on the porch was worthy of\nHogarth's pencil. On one side was his poor affrighted mother, and the\nlittle girls, with eyes wide open, full of wonder; near by, the\nvenerable grandfather, with silver locks parted on a peaceful brow; and\nCharley, standing close by his steed, as he recounted his hair-breadth\n''scape,' leaning his head occasionally against his proud neck, so that\nmy boy's curls of gold mingle with the ebon mane of Fleetfoot.\n\n\"He said that he struck deeper and deeper into the woods, going from one\nplace to another, until the forest became very dense and dark. He rode\ninto a tangled, marshy place, where he stood five hours without moving!\nAt one time he heard his pursuer close by, heard his fearful oaths,\nheard him lashing the sides of his own jaded steed. Charley's heart beat\nviolently. But the bog was wet and gloomy, and the soldier's ardor was\ndampened\u2014he durst not venture. So Charley and Fleetfoot were left to\nthemselves in the deep wood. A brave feat for a boy of only fourteen.\"\n\nOne more extract from this lively diary we will give to show the\ninfluence of the maidens on the hard hearts of the enemy\u2014that the girls\nas well as the boys had their parts to play in the drama.\n\n\"_Wednesday._\u2014Charles accompanied John Harris home from school, with my\npermission, last night. He returned this morning, with a story of the\nnight, which he related to me in breathless excitement.\n\n\"A family living a mile from us were quietly sitting together in the\nevening, when a noise was heard at the door like that of a sharp\ninstrument thrust into it. On opening the door there stood a red-coat\nwith his saber in his hand, which he had stuck into the wood an inch or\ntwo. He was backed by a dozen men. They pushed their way in, and were\nvery unruly, rummaging and ransacking every drawer and closet; but the\nfamily had long before taken the precaution to place all their money and\nvaluables in a small room, which opened out of the common sitting-room,\nputting a large cupboard before the door, which covered it entirely; so\nthat the Hessians quartered there last winter never discovered the\ndevice.\n\n\"The red-coats, highly incensed at finding nothing, began to threaten\nterrible things if they did not divulge the hiding-place. Mr. M. told\nthem that if they dared do any violence, he would report them to the\ncommanding officer. Whereupon, they actually went into the kitchen,\nkindled some light wood, came out, and set a burning brand at each\ncorner of the house. The family were exceedingly alarmed. In great\nterror, Sarah, the youngest daughter, rushed out. She is famed through\nall the north-side for her comeliness. I can well imagine that she must\nhave appeared to them like a lovely apparition with her glowing cheek\nand flashing eye. The ringleader, astonished, stood with his torch in\nhis hand, gazing at her. At length he said:\n\n\"'Angel!'\n\n\"'Stop, I entreat you!' said Sarah.\n\n\"His looks were riveted upon her with an ardent admiration which\nembarrassed her.\n\n\"'I will, on one condition,' said he.\n\n\"'What is it?'\n\n\"'Will you give it?'\n\n\"'If I can,' replied Sarah.\n\n\"'It is, that you will allow me to kiss you.'\n\n\"'Oh, if that is all,' said her father, 'comply, my daughter.'\n\n\"So, as she made no resistance, the rough soldier planted a fervent kiss\non her lips, expressed himself satisfied, and departed. They found,\nbefore her baby-house, that the soldiers had stuck the dolls on their\nbayonets, and railed among themselves and laughed.\n\n\"It is seldom that a man's house is attacked more than once. Mr. Harris\nhad his turn some time ago; therefore, although he saw some\nsuspicious-looking persons lurking about, he feared nothing, and arose\nat daylight, with the intention of going to the south of the island for\nsalt hay. Mrs. Harris, however, began to feel uneasy and timid, from the\nreports she heard during the following day, and the recollection of her\nnever-to-be-forgotten injuries, and persuaded her husband to stay at\nhome. That night passed without disturbance. About nine o'clock the next\nevening, a neighbor stopped at the gate in his wagon, and he and Mr.\nHarris were talking over the exciting times and scenes enacting around\nthe country, when they saw a man moving about the fields, and passing\nnow and then in and out of the edge of the woods. One of the\nserving-women, too, had seen some one about dark standing close by the\nwood-pile, who had vanished on her appearance at the door of the\nkitchen. In consequence of these signs Mr. Harris concluded to sit up,\nand keep lights and fires burning about the house. Charles, and the\nolder children, were sent to bed, but not to sleep\u2014that was impossible\nwith their perturbed and excited imaginations. About twelve o'clock, Mr.\nHarris being on the look-out, saw a man at a short distance from the\nhouse, reconnoitering; he now held a consultation with his wife and the\ntwo hired men. They came to the conclusion that an attack was meditated,\nand that it was time to act; they determined to leave the house in a\nbody, taking the two loaded guns, the money, silver, and small\nvaluables. Though the next house was full two miles off, there seemed no\nother alternative. The poor little frightened children were hurried up\nand dressed; their fears and cries were hushed, and they were carried\ndown stairs. As quietly as possible, all left the house by the back\ndoor. It was a moment of intense anxiety; their hearts beat with dread;\nwith trembling limbs, which almost refused to bear them, they moved on.\n'Faint, though pursuing,' they endeavored to stay their minds above. At\nlength, arrived at Mr. S.'s, another difficulty presented itself. The\nfamily would inevitably take them for robbers, and be liable to fire\nupon them. In this dilemma Mr. Harris thought it best to go close to the\ndoor and call out his name, trusting that his voice would be recognized,\nwhich was the case. The poor wanderers were kindly received, and after\nthey had talked over their fright, were provided with comfortable beds.\nThe house of Mr. S. has never been attacked, it is so well secured, the\ndoors and windows being lined and bound with iron, a fact well known to\nthe marauders.\"\n\nThus the little diary goes on. Sometimes the brutal bands murdered those\nwho opposed them in their own houses, upon their own hearthstones.\nReared in the midst of such excitement, it would be but natural that the\nyouth of the struggling country should become quick-witted and\nself-reliant.\n\nAnd since we have shown how brave the boys could be, let us repeat an\nincident of the heroism of a little girl in these same days of trial:\n\n\"Robert Gibbs, a gentleman earnestly devoted to the patriotic cause, was\nthe owner of a plantation on the Stono, a few miles from Charleston, on\nwhich, on a certain occasion, a Hessian battalion encamped, compelling\nthe family to surrender to their use the lower part of the mansion, and\nto confine themselves in the upper story. While here on one dark and\nstormy evening, two galleys appeared, ascending the river, which\nforthwith began a most destructive fire upon the Hessian encampment. The\nhouse appeared particularly exposed, although the vessels had been\ncommanded to avoid firing upon it, and to confine their attack to the\nenemy's encampment. Of this Mr. Gibbs was not aware, and with the\npermission of the English commander, he set out, although suffering\nacutely from an infirmity, and with his numerous family, hastened to the\nprotection of a neighboring plantation. The balls were falling thick and\nfast, sometimes scattering dirt and sand over the party, while their\nloud whizzing, mingled with the fury of the distant affray, rendered the\nscene one of danger and terror. But scarcely had they proceeded so far\nas to be out of danger from the balls, when to their unutterable agony\nthey discovered, that in the confusion and hurry of departure, an infant\nhad been left behind. To leave the child alone in his danger was\nimpossible, and to return for him was an attempt of imminent peril. Mr.\nGibbs was suffering under an infirmity that made his movements\nexceedingly slow and painful, and therefore it was impracticable for him\nto return. The frightened and chattering servants stood trembling\naround, looking from one to the other in bewildering despair. Of all the\nrest of the party, saving Mrs. Gibbs, who was severely indisposed, none\nwere above the age of childhood. While thus undecided, Miss Mary Ann\nGibbs, but thirteen years of age, sprung forward and heroically offered\nto go for the lad, who was a son of Mrs. Fenwick, Mrs. Gibbs'\nsister-in-law. The night was dark and stormy, the distance considerable,\nand the whole space swept by the cannon of the assailants. But without\nfear she retraced her way, and reached the house without injury, where\nthe scene was one of unmingled terror. Undismayed by the thundering of\nthe cannon, the crashing of the balls, the shrieks, shouts and\nimprecations of the combatants, she sprung to the door with the\nintention of entering, when she was brutally refused by the sentinel.\nBut tears, entreaties, and the natural eloquence prompted by her heroism\nand the high purpose on which she was bent, overcame his opposition, and\nshe was permitted to enter. With rapid steps she ascended to the third\nstory, and finding the child there in safety, she clasped it to her\nbosom, and hastened to overtake her retreating family, her course, as\nbefore, full of danger, and often the plowing balls would scatter clouds\nof dust over her person. Uninjured, her perilous journey was performed,\nand when she reached her friends, she was welcomed by shouts of\nenthusiasm and admiration. The intrepid action, worthy of an adult, and\nall glorious in a child, borrows a fair share of romance by the\nreflection that the child thus saved afterward became Lieutenant-Colonel\nFenwick, so highly distinguished by his services in the last war with\nGreat Britain.\"\n\n\n\n\n TECUMSEH SAVING THE PRISONERS.\n\n\nThe siege of Fort Meigs during the war of 1812, by a combined British\nand Indian force, under command of General Proctor, was attended by one\nof those thrilling incidents which chill the blood with horror, and\nwhich have stained the escutcheon of Great Britain with indelible\ninfamy. It is with no desire, however, to harrow up the feelings of our\nreaders at a tale of soul-sickening massacre, nor yet with a wish to\nundertake the invidious task of reprobating the course of the English\nGovernment in connection with the war, that we have introduced the\nfollowing narrative; but simply with a view of presenting the character\nof that brave and patriotic chieftain, Tecumseh, in its true light as\nregarding his magnanimity, and freedom from those brutal propensities\nand inclinations which have conduced so strongly to stigmatize the\nIndians as savages.\n\nThe fort was invested on the 26th of April, and from that period up to\nthe 5th of May, a constant fire had been kept up by the British\nbatteries on the opposite side of the river, without serious injury to\nthe works. General Clay, with a reinforcement of twelve hundred Kentucky\nmilitia, arrived in the neighborhood on the 4th, and received orders to\ndetach eight hundred men to attack the British batteries while the\nremainder was to aid a sortie against the Indians, who had established\nthemselves in the immediate vicinity of the fort, and who were a source\nof great annoyance to its garrison. Colonel Dudley was placed in command\nof the larger party, and, agreeably to his instructions, landed on the\nright bank, and completely succeeded in driving the enemy from his\nworks, and in spiking the cannon. His orders were peremptory to return\nimmediately to his boats on the accomplishment of this object, and\nrepair to the fort; but his men had tasted the sweets of victory, and\nthe rashness which follows success on the part of militia, proved their\nruin. They allowed themselves to be amused by some faint attempt at\nresistance on the part of a small body of Indians in the woods, until\nthe main body of the British, which was some distance in the rear, could\nbe brought up, and a severe and bloody action soon followed. It can\nhardly be called an action, for the militia were in detached parties,\npursuing the scattering troops, when they suddenly found themselves\nconfronted and surrounded by a force double their number, and after a\nmanly effort to retain the victory they had won, they attempted to\nretreat but found themselves cut off from the river by a force which had\ngot into their rear, to whom they were obliged to surrender themselves\nprisoners of war. Out of the eight hundred who landed in the morning,\nonly one hundred and fifty escaped massacre or captivity. Colonel Dudley\nwas severely wounded, and afterward tomahawked and scalped. A large\nportion of the prisoners were marched to the British fort lower down the\nriver, where they immediately became the sport and prey of the Indians,\nwho commenced an indiscriminate slaughter of the unarmed men, until the\nentreaties of some of the more humane British officers checked it for a\ntime. Another party were placed in charge of a Sergeant and fifty men\nfor the purpose of being embarked in the gunboats, where it was supposed\nthey would be safe from the attacks of the infuriated savages. Upon\nreaching the encampment, which at that time happened to be deserted by\nthe troops, they were met by a band of Indians who had not been engaged\nin the contest at all, but, actuated by a brutal thirst for blood, and\ndisappointed at not having a share of the plunder, to which they thought\nthemselves entitled, they determined to satisfy their desires by\nmurdering and stripping the prisoners before them. Perhaps they were\nactuated by a spirit of revenge for the loss which had been sustained by\ntheir friends in the action. Be this as it may, they each selected a\nvictim from the ranks, and with fearful yells commenced the work of\nslaughter. With a magnanimity scarcely to be expected of men who had\nwitnessed the cold-blooded murders at the river Raisin, the British\nguard threw themselves between the savages and their intended victims,\nand endeavored to dissuade, and then to coerce them from their horrid\nbutchery. But in vain. Excited to the highest pitch of ferocity by the\nblood they had already shed, they were not to be deterred from their\npurpose; and the soldiers\u2014after witnessing the death of one of their\nnumber, who was stabbed to the heart by a savage from whom he had\nsnatched a prisoner\u2014finding their interposition to be fruitless,\nwithdrew and left the unfortunate men to their fate. Surrounded upon all\nsides by the savages, with no chance of escape, with none to interfere,\nthe prisoners were huddled together; those in front striving to screen\nthemselves behind their comrades; while those in the rear, with the love\nof life urging them with an equal force, endeavored to keep them from\ndoing so, they surged to and fro, the tomahawk and scalping-knife doing\nits work, until forty of their number lay stiff in the embrace of death.\nThe Sergeant in command of the guard, who had been forced to leave their\ncharge to the tender mercies of the savages, sought for Tecumseh, and\ninformed him of the horrid butchery which was being enacted. The eyes of\nthe chieftain lit up with a consuming blaze, and his nostrils dilated\nand contracted as his breast heaved with the mighty passion which the\nsoldier's story had roused within him. He stopped but a moment to hear\nthe end, and then dashing his heels against his horse's sides, he darted\noff in the direction of the scene. Raising his voice as he approached,\nin thunder-tones he commanded the Indians to desist from their brutal\nwork. A few, startled at the unexpected interference, drew back; but the\nmajority, regardless of his authority, and drunk with passion, refused\nto obey. Precipitating himself between these and their prey, he forced\nthem back, and, drawing his tomahawk, he whirled it over his head, while\nhis face was wrought into an expression of the most fearful and\nscorching rage, as he threatened to cleave to the earth the first one\nwho offered to disobey him. This was effectual with some, but there were\nstill a few who continued their bloody work, and one after another the\nmiserable prisoners were falling, like sheep in the shambles, before the\nunrelenting knives and hatchets of their executioners. None but a man\ndestitute of fear would have dared to rush between these and their\nvictims. It was tearing the carcass of his prey from the jaws of the\nlion to interfere between these ferocious fiends and their feast of\nblood. But, the chief knew no fear: he was wrought to such a fearful\nstate of excitement as not to heed the dictates of prudence. Leaping\nfrom his horse and drawing his knife, he threw himself upon them with\nall the fury of a tigress divested of her young. Seizing one by the\nthroat, and another by the breast, he hurled them to the ground, and\nthus, one after another, he beat them back with a strength which nothing\ncould withstand. Taking his station in front of the remnant of the band\nwhich still remained alive, and raising his tomahawk high above his\nhead, while his whole figure dilated to a greater height by the passions\nwhich raged within his bosom, he dared them, in tones which thrilled\nthrough them like electricity, to strike another blow. None were found\nso bold as to tempt his arm or disobey his command, and the prisoners\nwere saved. Looking around for Proctor, he espied him as he approached,\nand demanded why he had not stopped the massacre. \"Sir,\" said he, \"your\nIndians are not to be commanded.\" \"Begone!\" replied Tecumseh, as a look\nof the greatest disdain and contempt swept over his swarthy visage, \"you\nare unfit to command; go and _put on petticoats_!\"\n\nThis Proctor, the British commander, had already branded himself with\nindelible infamy at the battle of the River Raisin, in January of the\nsame year. In reference to this battle, we will briefly state the object\nof General Harrison's campaign was to take Detroit, and expel the\nBritish from the territory of the United States\u2014and to protect the\nextensive frontier; also to furnish such protection as was possible to\nthe settlers in Ohio, Indiana, etc., from the savages in the pay of the\nBritish. The points to be defended were scattered over a vast region of\ncountry; and though the care of it fell upon General Harrison, officers\nin the different sections were frequently obliged to act for themselves.\nIt was thus that General Winchester, failing to receive counter-orders\nsent after him by Harrison, and unaware of the full force of the enemy,\nwas induced to make an imprudent, though brave, movement against a body\nof English and Indians who were coming from Malden and the Raisin to\nattack his camp at the rapids.\n\nHe pressed forward and found the enemy prepared to meet him at\nFrenchtown; they were posted among the houses, but were soon dislodged\nand driven to the woods. Here a short, desperate engagement took place,\nand the English were driven two miles before the continual charge of the\nbrave Kentuckians, though the latter had made that day a forced march of\nover eighteen miles over ice. In reporting the action, afterward,\nGeneral Harrison said: \"The troops amply sustained the double character\nof Americans and Kentuckians.\"\n\nThus far our heroes were successful; instead of retiring after this\nbrilliant affair, they determined to maintain their position; they\nremained in Frenchtown two or three days, part of their forces being\nexposed in an open field, and a part sheltered by the garden pickets of\nthe town. During the night of the 21st of January, the British came up,\nunobserved, and at daylight fired bombs, balls and grape-shot from heavy\npieces of artillery, at a distance of only three hundred yards. The\ntroops in the open field were sadly injured by this fire, and soon fled\nacross the river in the utmost confusion. The Indians gained our flank\nand rear, butchering our soldiers shockingly. General Winchester was\ntaken prisoner and marched to the British camp. Colonel Lewis still\nmaintained his position in the town, frequently repulsing the enemy,\nuntil the Indians gained his flank, when a general and indiscriminate\nmassacre ensued. Colonel Lewis was made a prisoner, had his coat\nstripped off, and was conducted to the enemy's camp. Colonel Allen,\nbeing badly wounded, surrendered to an Indian. Another assailed him,\nwhom Allen struck dead at his feet, and was in turn shot down by a third\nsavage. Garrett, with fifteen or twenty men, surrendered, and all but\nhimself were butchered on the spot.\n\nTwo other officers, Graves and Madison, still maintained their position\nwithin the picketing, and with their troops, behaved most gallantly. The\nformer being severely wounded, and as he sat down, wiping the blood from\nhis wounds, cried: \"Never mind me, my boys, fight on!\" Proctor, with all\nhis British regulars and savage allies, could not subdue this band\u2014they\ngave not an inch to the foe.\n\nA flag was at last sent to Madison, with an order from Winchester to\nsurrender. Proctor accompanied the flag, and made the demand, but Major\nMadison replied that he would not surrender unless the safety of his men\ncould be guaranteed. Proctor demanded:\n\n\"Sir, do you mean to dictate to _me_?\"\n\n\"No,\" returned the intrepid Major, \"I intend to dictate for myself; and\nwe prefer selling our lives as dearly as possible, rather than be\nmassacred in cold blood.\"\n\nThe surrender was made on express conditions, that the officers should\nretain their side arms, the sick and wounded to be carefully removed,\nprivate property to be respected, and the prisoners protected by a\nguard. Proctor disregarded all stipulations, and handed over the\nprisoners to the Indians, who butchered them without mercy. Some of\ntheir bodies were thrown into the flames of the burning village, while\nothers, shockingly mangled, were left exposed in the streets. These\nawful deeds were continued for several days.\n\nFor the massacre of the River Raisin, in return for which any other\ncivilized government would have dismissed, if not gibbeted, the\ncommander, Colonel Proctor received the rank of Major-General in the\nBritish army. This infamous officer it was who shortly after commenced\nthe siege of Fort Meigs, his mind filled with visions of conquest,\npersonal glory and official promotion. He was assisted by Tecumseh, with\nfifteen hundred of his warriors; but even the Indian nature revolted at\nthe more savage deeds of the English General. From this siege of Fort\nMeigs Proctor was obliged to retreat toward Malden in disgrace and\nconfusion.\n\nIn the May following, however, Proctor, thinking to surprise Fort Meigs,\nmade a second attack upon it with a large force of British regulars and\nCanadians, and several thousand Indians under Tecumseh, but was again\nobliged to retreat in disgrace.\n\nOn the first day of August, General Proctor appeared with five hundred\nregulars, and about eight hundred Indians of the most ferocious kind,\nbefore fort Stephenson, twenty miles above the mouth of the river\nSandusky. There were not more than one hundred and thirty-three\neffective men in the garrison, and the works covered one acre of ground;\nit was a mere outpost of little importance; and General Harrison, acting\nwith the unanimous advice of his council of war, had sent orders to\nMajor Croghan, who commanded the garrison, to evacuate the fort, and\nmake good his retreat to head-quarters, provided the enemy should\napproach the place with artillery, and a retreat be practicable. But the\nfirst step taken by Proctor was to isolate the fort by a cordon of\nIndians, thus leaving to Major Croghan no choice but between resistance\nand submission. A messenger was sent to demand the surrender of the\nfort. He was met by Ensign Shipp, to whom the messenger observed that\nGeneral Proctor had a considerable body of regular troops, and a great\nmany Indians, whom it was impossible to control, and if the fort was\ntaken by force, he must expect that the mildest instruments made use of\nwould be the tomahawk and scalping-knife! Shipp replied, that it was the\ncommander's intention to defend the garrison or be buried in it, and\nthat they might do their worst. The messenger, startled at the reply of\nShipp, again addressed him: \"You are a fine young man. I pity your\nsituation. For God's sake surrender, and prevent the dreadful slaughter\nwhich must inevitably follow resistance.\" The gallant Shipp turned from\nhim with indignation, and was immediately seized by a frightful-looking\nsavage, who attempted to wrest his sword from him, but the Ensign was\nfortunately too quick for him, and buried the blade to the hilt in his\nbody, and succeeded in reaching the fort in safety. The attack now\ncommenced. About four P. M., all the enemy's guns were concentrated\nagainst the northwestern angle of the fort, for the purpose of making a\nbreach. To counteract the effect of their fire, the commander caused\nthat point to be strengthened by means of bags of flour, sand and other\nmaterials, in such a manner that the balls of the enemy did but little\ninjury. But the enemy, supposing that their fire had sufficiently\nshattered the pickets, advanced, to the number of six hundred, to storm\nthe place, the Indians shouting in their usual manner. As soon as the\nditch was pretty well filled with the copper-colored assailants, the\ncommander of the fort ordered a six-pounder, which had been masked in\nthe block-house, to be discharged. It had been loaded with a double\ncharge of musket-balls and slugs. The piece completely raked the ditch\nfrom end to end. The yell of the savages was at this instant horrible.\nThe first fire leveled the one half in death; the second and third\neither killed or wounded all except eleven, who were covered by the dead\nbodies. The Americans had but one killed, and seven slightly wounded.\nEarly the ensuing morning the few regulars and Indians that survived\nretreated down the river, abandoning all their baggage.\n\nThe time was now at hand when General Harrison and his army were to\nreach the full completion of all the contemplated objects of the\nexpedition.\n\nAmong the earliest recommendations of General Harrison to the Government\nthe year before, and immediately after he commenced operations, had been\nthat of constructing and equipping a naval armament on the lakes. In one\nletter he says: \"Admitting that Malden and Detroit are both taken,\nMackinaw and St. Joseph will both remain in the hands of the enemy until\nwe can create a force capable of contending with the vessels which the\nBritish have in Lake Michigan,\" etc. And again, in another letter:\n\"Should any offensive operation be suspended until spring, it is my\ndecided opinion that the cheapest and most effectual plan will be to\nobtain command of Lake Erie. This being once effected, every difficulty\nwill be removed. An army of four thousand men, landed on the north side\nof the lake, below Malden, will reduce that place, retake Detroit, and,\nwith the aid of the fleet, proceed down the lake to co\u00f6perate with the\narmy from Niagara.\" These sagacious instructions, being repeatedly and\nstrenuously urged by him, and reinforced also from other quarters, were\nadopted and acted upon by the Government. Commodore Perry was\ncommissioned to build, equip and command the contemplated fleet; and, on\nthe 10th of September, with an inferior force, he met the enemy, and\ngained the brilliant victory of Lake Erie.\n\nMeanwhile, Colonel Richard M. Johnson, then a member of Congress from\nKentucky, had devised the organization of two regiments of mounted\nmilitia, which he was authorized by the Government to raise, as well for\nservice against the Indians, as to co\u00f6perate with Harrison. Colonel\nJohnson crossed the country of Lower Sandusky, where he received orders\nfrom the war department to proceed to Kaskaskia, to operate in that\nquarter; but, by the interference of Harrison, and at the urgent request\nof Colonel Johnson, who said, for himself and his men, that the first\nobject of their hearts was to accompany Harrison to Detroit and Canada,\nand to partake in the danger and honor of that expedition, under an\nofficer in whom they had confidence, and who had approved himself \"to be\nwise, prudent, and brave,\"\u2014the orders of the department were\ncountermanded, and Colonel Johnson attained his wish.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n Tecumseh Saving the Prisoners.\u2014_Page_ 19.\n]\n\nGeneral Harrison now prepared to strike the great blow. Aided by the\nenergetic efforts of Governor Meigs, of Ohio, and Governor Shelby, of\nKentucky, he had ready on the southern shore of Lake Erie, by the middle\nof September, a competent force, destined for the immediate invasion of\nCanada. Between the 16th and the 24th of September, the artillery,\nmilitary stores, provisions, and troops, were gradually embarked, and on\nthe 27th the whole army proceeded to the Canada shore. \"Remember the\nriver Raisin,\" said General Harrison, in his address to the troops, \"but\nremember it only while victory is suspended. The revenge of a soldier\ncan not be gratified on a fallen enemy.\" The army landed in high\nspirits; but the enemy had abandoned his stronghold, and retreated to\nSandwich, after dismantling Malden, burning the barracks and navy-yard,\nand stripping the adjacent country of horses and cattle. General\nHarrison encamped that night on the ruins of Malden.\n\nOn the 2d of October, arrangements were made for pursuing the retreating\nenemy up the Thames. The army was put in motion on the morning of the\n4th. General Harrison accompanied Colonel Johnson, and was followed by\nGovernor Shelby with the infantry. Having passed the ground where the\nenemy had encamped the night before, the General directed the advance of\nColonel Johnson's regiment to accelerate their march, for the purpose of\nascertaining the distance of the enemy.\n\nThe troops had now advanced within three miles of the Moravian town, and\nwithin one mile of the enemy. Across a narrow strip of land, near an\nIndian village, the enemy were drawn up in line of battle, to prevent\nthe advance of the American troops. The British troops amounted to six\nhundred, the Indians to more than twelve hundred. About one hundred and\nfifty regulars, under Colonel Ball, were ordered to advance and amuse\nthe enemy, and, should a favorable opportunity present, to seize his\ncannon. A small party of friendly Indians were directed to move under\nthe bank. The regiment of Colonel Johnson was drawn up in close column,\nwith its right a few yards distant from the road. General Desha's\ndivision covered the left of Johnson's regiment. General Cass and\nCommodore Perry volunteered as aids to General Harrison.\n\nOn the 5th, the enemy was discovered in a position skillfully chosen, in\nrelation as well to local circumstances as to the character of his\ntroops. A narrow strip of dry land, flanked by the river Thames on the\nleft and by a swamp on the right, was occupied by his regular infantry\nand artillery, while on the right flank lay Tecumseh and his followers,\non the eastern margin of the swamp. But, notwithstanding the judicious\nchoice of the ground, Proctor had committed the error of forming his\ninfantry in open order. Availing himself of this fact, and aware that\ntroops so disposed could not resist a charge of mounted men, he directed\nColonel Johnson to dash through the enemy's line in column. The movement\nwas made with brilliant success.\n\nThe mounted men charged with promptitude and vigor, broke through the\nline of the enemy, formed in the rear, and assailed the broken line with\na success seldom equaled, for nearly the whole of the British regular\nforce was either killed, wounded, or taken prisoners.\n\nOn the left the contest was much more serious. Colonel Johnson's\nregiment, being there stationed, received a galling fire from the\nIndians, who seemed not disposed to give ground. The Colonel gallantly\nled his men into the midst of them, and was personally attacked by a\nchief, whom he dispatched with his cutlass the moment the former was\naiming a blow at him with his tomahawk. The savages, finding the fire of\nthe troops too warm for them, fled across the hills and attempted to\nseek shelter in a piece of woods on the left, where they were closely\npursued by the cavalry. At the margin of the wood Tecumseh stationed\nhimself, armed with a spear, tomahawk, &c., endeavoring to rally and\npersuade his men to return to the attack. At this point a considerable\nbody of Indians had collected; but this brave savage saw that the\nfortune of the day was against him, and the battle was lost. Proctor had\ncowardly fled from the field, and left him and his warriors alone to\nsustain themselves against a far superior force; and he knew that there\nwas no chance of contending with any hope of success. He therefore\nstood, like a true hero, disdaining to fly, and was, with many of his\nbravest warriors around him, shot down by the Kentucky riflemen. It has\nbeen published to the world, and by many believed, that this\ndistinguished warrior was killed by a pistol-shot from Colonel Johnson;\nbut this is undoubtedly a mistake, which probably originated from the\ncircumstance of the Colonel's having killed a chief by whom he was\nattacked, as has before been related. That he fell by a rifle-shot,\nthere can be no doubt; but by whom fired, it was not certainly known, or\nprobably never can be satisfactorily proved. No less than six of the\nriflemen and twenty-two Indians fell within twenty-five yards of the\nspot where Tecumseh was killed.\n\nThe Indians continued a brisk fire from the margin of the wood until a\nfresh regiment was called into action to oppose them. A company of\ncavalry having crossed the hills and gained the rear of the savages, the\nrout became general. They fought bravely, and sustained a heavy loss in\nkilled and wounded. The death of their leader, Tecumseh, was an\nirreparable loss to them.\n\nTecumseh was the most extraordinary Indian that has ever appeared in\nhistory. He was by birth a Shawanese, and would have been a great man in\nany age or nation. Independent of the most consummate courage and skill\nas a warrior, and all the characteristic acuteness of his race, he was\nendowed by nature with the attributes of mind necessary for great\npolitical combinations. His acute understanding, very early in life,\ninformed him that his countrymen had lost their importance; that they\nwere gradually yielding to the whites, who were acquiring an imposing\ninfluence over them. Instigated by these considerations, and, perhaps,\nby his natural ferocity and attachment to war, he became a decided enemy\nto the whites, and imbibed an invincible determination (he surrendered\nit with his life) to regain for his country the proud independence which\nhe supposed she had lost. For a number of years he was foremost in every\nact of hostility committed against those he conceived the oppressors of\nhis countrymen, and was equally remarkable for intrepidity as skill, in\nmany combats that took place under his banner. Aware, at length, of the\nextent, number, and power of the United States, he became fully\nconvinced of the futility of any single nation of red-men attempting to\ncope with them. He formed, therefore, the grand scheme of uniting all\nthe tribes east of the Mississippi into hostility against the United\nStates. This was a field worthy of his great and enterprising genius. He\ncommenced in the year 1809; and in the execution of his project he\ndisplayed an unequaled adroitness, eloquence, and courage. He insinuated\nhimself into every tribe, from Michilimackinack to Georgia, and was\ninvariably successful in his attempts to bring them over to his views.\n\nThe following characteristic circumstance occurred at one of the\nmeetings at Vincennes. After Tecumseh had made a speech to General\nHarrison, and was about to seat himself in a chair, he observed that\nnone had been placed for him. One was immediately ordered by the\nGovernor, and, as the interpreter handed it to him, he said, \"Your\nfather requests you to take a chair.\" \"_My father!_\" said Tecumseh, with\nan indignant expression; \"_the sun is my father, and the earth is my\nmother, and on her bosom will I repose_,\" and immediately seated\nhimself, in the Indian fashion, upon the ground.\n\nTecumseh was born about 1770, and was supposed to be in his forty-fourth\nyear at the time of his death. He received the commission of\nBrigadier-General in the British army; but aversion to civilization was\na prominent trait in his character, and it is not supposed that he\nreceived the red sash and other badges of office, because he was fond of\nimitating the whites, but only as a means of inspiring respect and\nveneration among his own people, which was so necessary in the work he\nhad undertaken. He was about five feet ten inches in height, of a noble\nappearance, and a perfectly symmetrical form. His carriage was erect and\nlofty, his motions quick, his eyes penetrating, his visage stern, with\nan air of _hauteur_ in his countenance, which arose from an elevated\npride of soul. It did not leave him, even in death. Had he not possessed\na certain austerity of manners, he could never have controlled the\npassions of those whom he had led to battle. The Indians are usually\nfond of gaudy decorations; but Tecumseh was an exception. Clothes and\nother valuable articles of spoil frequently fell into his possession;\nyet he invariably wore a deer-skin coat and pantaloons. He had\nfrequently levied subsidies, to a comparatively large amount; yet he\nretained little or nothing for himself. It was not wealth, but glory,\nthat was his ruling passion.\n\nPreviously to General Brock's crossing over to Detroit, he asked\nTecumseh what sort of a country he should have to pass through in case\nof his proceeding further. Tecumseh, taking a roll of elm-bark, and\nextending it upon the ground, by means of four stones, drew forth his\nscalping-knife and with the point sketched upon the bark a plan of the\ncountry: its hills, woods, rivers, morasses and roads; a plan, which, if\nnot as neat, was for the purpose fully as intelligible as if Arrowsmith\nhimself had prepared it. Pleased with this unexpected talent in\nTecumseh, as also with his having induced the Indians not of his\nimmediate party to cross the Detroit, prior to the departure of the\nregulars and militia, General Brock, as soon as business was over,\npublicly took off his sash and placed it around the body of the chief.\nTecumseh received the honor with evident gratification, but was, the\nnext day, seen without his sash. General Brock, fearing something had\ndispleased the Indian, sent his interpreter for an explanation; who soon\nreturned with an account that Tecumseh, not wishing to wear such a mark\nof distinction, when an older, and, as he said, abler, warrior was\npresent, had transferred the sash to the Wyandot chief, Roundhead.\n\n\n\n\n HORSEWHIPPING A TYRANT.\n\n\nGeneral Prescott, the commander of the British troops in Rhode Island,\nwas one of those mean-spirited, petty tyrants, who, when in power,\nexercise their ingenuity in devising means of harassing all who have the\nmisfortune to be subject to their authority; but, when circumstances\nplace them in the power of others, are the most contemptible sycophants\nand parasites. Narrow-minded in the extreme, with a heart which had not\none benevolent impulse, he was far from being a fit officer to be placed\nin authority over the people of Rhode Island, who could be more easily\nconquered by lenient measures than by the use of unnecessary harshness.\nFrom the first day of his power he pursued a system of pitiless tyranny.\nWrithing under a sense of wrongs, maddened to desperation by the\nmeanness and malignity of their oppressor, the people of the Island\nresolved to rid themselves of the cause, no matter at what risk or\nsacrifice. Various plans were suggested, and even assassination was\nhinted at. His harsh treatment of Colonel Ethan Allen, a prisoner in his\nhands, combined with his haughty and arrogant conduct toward all,\nincreased the feeling against him. To add to all this, General Lee was a\nprisoner in the British jail, and confined in a cell under the pretense\nthat he was a deserter, having once been an officer in the British army;\nWashington had no prisoner of equal rank to offer in exchange.\n\nIf the capture of Prescott could be effected, it would not only rid the\nRhode Islanders of his hated rule, but would afford an officer to be\nexchanged for General Lee, whom Washington was most anxious to rescue.\nUnder these circumstances, many enterprises were projected; but it was\nreserved for Lieutenant-Colonel Barton, of the Rhode Island line, to\nsuccessfully plan and accomplish the much-desired object. He was\nstationed with a force of militia on the main-land, when he received\nword that Prescott was quartered at a country-house near the western\nshore of the Island, about four miles from Newport, totally unconscious\nof danger, though in a very exposed situation. Conceiving this to be the\nfavorable opportunity, Barton began to prepare for the execution of his\nbold design. The enterprise proposed was bold and hazardous, and its\nfailure would be sure to bring upon him the charge of being rash and\nfoolhardy; but then, if successful, an honorable renown would be the\nreward of those concerned.\n\nHe communicated his design to Colonel Horton, his superior officer, who\ngave it his commendation, and permitted him to select from his regiment\nsuch men and officers as he desired to assist him in the plot. From an\napprehension that his plans might become known to the enemy, he did not\nmake a selection of the necessary number of men until the last moment,\nand then, with a desire that he might be accompanied only by volunteers,\nhe ordered his whole company upon parade, and in a brief speech stated\nthat he wished to obtain forty volunteers for an expedition of great\nhazard, and all that wished to accompany him, should signify it by\nstepping from the ranks. Without one exception, the whole regiment\nadvanced. He now found it necessary to make the selection himself, and\nhe did so, choosing those whose courage and fidelity were tested.\nSeveral officers had personally volunteered, but not one of the party\nbesides Barton himself, knew of the object in view, but all trusted to\nthe honor and courage of their leader.\n\nSome delay was experienced in procuring boats, but on the 4th of July,\n1777, they embarked from Tiverton for Bristol. In crossing Mount Hope\nBay, they suffered from a severe storm, but they arrived at Bristol at\nmidnight. On the morning of the 5th, the Major, with his officers, went\nover to Hog Island for the purpose of reconnoitering the position of the\nenemy. Here he revealed the object of the expedition, and his plan for\nits accomplishment.\n\nIt was not until the evening of the 5th, that the party again embarked.\nCrossing Narragansett Bay, they landed on Warwick Neck, but were here\ndetained by a severe storm which retarded their plans considerably. On\nthe 9th, however, it became clear, and they prepared once more to sail,\nwith the intention of proceeding directly to Rhode Island. Some hours\nafter the set of sun, all was still, and the darkness affording them a\nprotection from observation, the little squadron shot out from the land,\nand proceeded noiselessly and cautiously on its course. This was a very\nhazardous part of the enterprise, as there was great danger of being\ndiscovered by some of the ships of war that lay near the shore.\nCautiously gliding along between the islands of Prudence and Patience,\nby which means they were secured from observation from the enemy's\nshipping that lay off by Hope Island, they advanced rapidly to their\ndestination. While passing the north end of Prudence Island, they could\ndistinctly hear the sentinels from the ships, cry out, \"All's well.\" The\nnight was one of excessive darkness, and this fortunate circumstance, no\ndoubt, contributed largely to the success of the plan.\n\nThe landing was effected without difficulty. In order to secure a rapid\nretreat, one man was commanded to remain in each boat, and instructed to\nbe ready for departing at a moment's notice. When all were on shore, the\nrequisite instructions were given, and the party advanced rapidly in the\ndirection of General Prescott's head-quarters. The difficulties of Major\nBarton's situation will be readily appreciated. Even should he surprise\nGeneral Prescott, a very few moments would suffice for an alarm to be\ncarried to the enemy, and if so, the whole British army would be upon\nthem before they could get to their forts. Or, even should they reach\ntheir boats, if an alarm was conveyed to the enemy's shipping, their\nretreat would, with certainty, be cut off. It was, therefore, necessary\nto proceed with the utmost caution and care; and to act with equal\ndaring, prudence, and celerity.\n\nThe distance to the residence of the English General was about a mile.\nThe party was divided into five divisions: one to approach the door on\nthe south side, another one on the east, and a third on the west side,\nthere being three doors to the house, while the fourth division was to\nguard the road, and the fifth to be ready to act on emergencies. They\nwere obliged, in order to reach the house, to pass the guard-house of\nthe enemy, on the left, and on their right a house occupied by a company\nof cavalry. On arriving at Prescott's head-quarters, they were\nchallenged by a sentinel who was stationed at the gate of the front\nyard. The darkness of the night prevented him from determining the\nnature of the party approaching, but, as they continued to advance in\nsilence, he again challenged them, demanding:\n\n\"Who goes there?\"\n\n\"Friends,\" said Barton.\n\n\"Advance and give the countersign,\" was the rejoinder.\n\n\"Pho!\" replied Barton, as he continued to advance close to the person of\nthe sentinel, \"we have no countersign\u2014have you seen any rascals\nto-night?\"\n\nAlmost simultaneous with this remark, Barton suddenly seized the musket\nof the sentinel, and charged him to make no noise on the penalty of\ninstant death. So much had been accomplished in perfect silence. The\ndivisions rapidly advanced to their respective positions, while Barton\nquestioned the bewildered and terrified sentinel, as to whether the\nGeneral was in the house, who replied that he was. The signal was now\ngiven, and in an instant the south door was burst open, and the division\nthere stationed rushed into the building, followed by the Major.\n\nThe first person Barton met was Mr. Perwig, who denied that General\nPrescott was in the house, and his son also obstinately denied the\npresence of the English officer. Not being able to find him in their\nrapid search through the apartments, Barton now had resort to stratagem.\nIn a loud voice, he declared his intention of capturing the General dead\nor alive, and ordered his soldiers immediately to set fire to the house.\nAt this juncture, a voice which Barton suspected to belong to the\nGeneral, inquired the cause of the disturbance. Barton rushed to the\napartment from which came the voice he heard, and finding there an\nelderly gentleman, just rising from his bed, he accosted him as General\nPrescott. To this the gentleman assented, and declared he bore the name\nand title.\n\n\"Then you are my prisoner,\" replied Barton.\n\n\"I acknowledge I am,\" was the rejoinder.\n\nHe was only allowed time to partially dress himself, when he was hurried\noff by his captors.\n\nMeanwhile a singular circumstance had occurred. At the very moment when\nBarton first gained admission into the house, one of the British\nsoldiers managed to escape, and flew to the quarters of the main guard\nto give the alarm. This man, in the alarm of the moment, rushed forth\nwith no other clothing than his shirt; and having hastily explained the\nmatter to the sentinel on duty, he passed on to the quarters of the\ncavalry, which was much more remote from the head-quarters of the\nGeneral. But when the sentinel came to explain the matter to the officer\nof the guard, it seemed so incredible, that he was laughed at, and was\ntold that he had seen a ghost. He admitted that the messenger was\nclothed in white, and after being heartily laughed at for his credulity,\nwas ordered back to his station, and the guard went back to their\nquarters. This was a most fortunate circumstance, for had the alarm of\nthe soldier been believed, nothing could have preserved the gallant\nMajor and his band from destruction.\n\nThe whole party, with the English General in their midst, marched\nrapidly toward the shore. When they arrived at the boat, their prisoner,\nwho had been hurried away half-dressed, was permitted to complete his\ntoilet. They re-embarked with all possible haste, and had not got far\nfrom the island, when the discharge of cannon and three sky-rockets gave\nthe signal of alarm. But, for some cause, the signal was not understood\nby those on the ships, and, by this fortunate circumstance, the gallant\nband was preserved, for it would have been easy for their enemy to have\ncut off their retreat. Although full of anxiety and apprehension, they\nbent every nerve to reach their port of destination, happily succeeding\nwithout meeting an obstacle. When they landed, General Prescott said to\nLieutenant-Colonel Barton:\n\n\"Sir, you have made an amazing bold push to-night.\"\n\n\"We have been fortunate,\" was the modest reply.\n\nBefore morning the prisoner was in Providence, where he was delivered\ninto the custody of General Spencer, who treated him with consideration\nfar above his deserts. After a few days' stay in Providence, Prescott\nwas sent, under an escort, to the head-quarters of Washington on the\nHudson. On reaching Lebanon, the party stopped at the tavern of a\nCaptain Alden, who was an ardent Whig, and hated the very name of\nPrescott. Nothing could have afforded him greater gratification than an\nopportunity to inflict condign punishment upon the tyrant, and the\nGeneral unwittingly gave him that opportunity.\n\nAt the table Mrs. Alden waited upon the General; among the dishes\npresented for his acceptance, was some \"succotash,\" or corn-and-beans, a\nfavorite dish with the New England people, but which seemed to excite\nthe wrath and resentment of the little-great General, whose temper was\nprobably not improved by the events of the last few days.\n\nTaking the dish in his hand, and forgetting that his position was that\nof prisoner not of master, he looked at it a moment, and exclaimed:\n\n\"What's this! what's this! are you going to treat me with the food of\nhogs?\"\n\nSaying which, he dashed the tureen upon the floor, breaking it, and\nstrewing the contents in all directions. Mrs. Alden had too much spirit\nto brook such an insult to her cookery and table, and left the room to\ninform her husband of the occurrence. In a few moments, Captain Alden,\nbearing a large cart-whip in his hand, entered the room, demanding of\nthe British General what he meant by such conduct in his house. Seeing\nvengeance written in every lineament of the Captain's face, the General\nappealed to the officers of his escort for protection.\n\n\"Protection!\" said the landlord; \"I'll show you the protection you\ndeserve;\" and seizing him by the collar, he dragged the whilom haughty\ndictator from his chair, when, with all the force of an arm nerved by\nthe memory of the wrongs of good Americans, he rained down a shower of\nblows which made the victim writhe, and cry for that mercy which he had\nso often denied to others.\n\n\"I'll teach you manners,\" panted Alden, between the blows, \"I'll teach\nyou to insult those who are giving you better than you deserve, you\ntyrannical minion of English oppression!\" While at every word the long\nlash of the whip descended upon the groveling shoulders of his enemy,\nuntil, from mere exhaustion, Alden ceased, remarking:\n\n\"There, if ever you want another lesson in good manners, come to me and\nI'll give it to you with pleasure.\"\n\nThe officers present made no serious attempt to relieve their prisoner\nfrom his predicament. They felt that he richly merited the castigation;\nwhile the crestfallen General was too well assured of their feelings\ntoward him to reproach them\u2014but he took a terrible revenge, when, after\na time, being exchanged, he returned to his command at Newport, where he\nburned the towns and villages, turning the inhabitants houseless upon\nthe world. He never forgot or forgave this infliction of personal\npunishment; and when, upon a subsequent occasion, three of the citizens\nof Newport waited upon him concerning the business of the town, he\nstormed and raved at one of them in such a manner that he was compelled\nto withdraw. After the others had announced their business, and the\nGeneral had become somewhat calm, he inquired:\n\n\"Was not my treatment of Folger rather uncivil?\"\n\nUpon being assured that it certainly was, he explained it, by remarking:\n\n\"He looked so much like a \u2014\u2014 Connecticut man, who horsewhipped me once,\nthat I could not bear the sight of him.\"\n\nThe accounts which are given of General Prescott's treatment of Ethan\nAllen, are no more to the credit of his dignity than the story of the\nsuccotash.\n\nShortly after Ethan Allen's celebrated conquest of Ticonderoga, he\njoined the expedition into Canada, under Generals Schuyler and\nMontgomery. He had no commission from Congress, but was induced by the\ncommanding officers to follow the army, under a promise that he should\ncommand certain detachments in the army, when occasion required. He was\ndispatched into Canada with letters to the Canadians, explaining the\nobject of the expedition, which was not aimed against the inhabitants of\nthe country, their liberties or religion, but against the British\npossessors. The Canadians were invited to make common cause with the\nContinentals, and expel the invader. His message was partially\nsuccessful, and numbers of the Canadians joined the Congressional\nbanner.\n\nOn a second expedition of a similar nature, he was induced to undertake\nthe enterprise against Montreal. Matters promised him success, but at a\ncritical moment many of his Canadian allies abandoned him. The result\nwas a total defeat, which ended in the surrender of himself and party.\n\nWhen he was brought before General Prescott, the commanding English\nofficer, he was asked by him his name and title. The reply cast the\nBriton into a towering passion. He could not forget the loss of\nTiconderoga, and time had not softened the bitterness of hatred he felt\nagainst the hero of that glorious adventure. The Englishman so far\nforgot his position as to threaten the person of Allen with his cane,\nand applied to him every offensive epithet he could command. Finding\nthat Allen confronted him with an undaunted gaze, he looked around for\nsomething else on which to wreak his hatred. He ordered the Canadians\nwho had been taken with Allen, to be brought forward, and executed. As\nthey were brought forward, wringing their hands in consternation at the\nprospect of death, the heart of Allen was touched, as he could but feel\ntheir present position was brought about by his instrumentality. He\ntherefore flung himself between the executioners and the intended\nvictims, opened his coat, and told General Prescott to let his vengeance\nfall on him alone, as he was the sole cause of the Canadians taking up\narms.\n\nThe guard paused, and looked toward their General, and, indeed, it was a\nmoment of suspense and interest to all present. The General stood quiet\na moment or two in hesitation, and then said:\n\n\"I will not execute you now; but you shall grace a halter at Tyburn,\"\naccompanying his speech with a series of emphatic oaths.\n\nAllen was now removed on board the Gaspee schooner of war, loaded with\nirons of immense weight, and cast into the hold of the vessel. Here his\nsufferings were of the most acute nature. His only accommodations were a\nchest, on which he sat during the day and which served him as a couch at\nnight. The irons upon his ankles were so tight, that he could scarcely\nlie down, and then only in one position. Here he was visited by many\nofficers of the English army, some of whom treated him civilly, but\nothers were abusive and insulting.\n\nAt the expiration of six weeks, he was removed to a vessel off Quebec,\nwhere he received kind and courteous treatment. Here he remained until\nhis removal on board of the vessel which was to carry him to England.\nHere all of the prisoners, thirty-four, were thrust into a small\napartment, each heavily ironed. They were compelled during the whole\nvoyage to remain in their confinement, and were subjected to every\nindignity that cruelty could invent.\n\nWhen first ordered to enter into their filthy apartment, Allen refused,\nand endeavored to argue their brutal keeper out of his inhuman purpose,\nbut all in vain. The reply to his appeal was insults of the grossest\nkind, and an officer of the vessel insulting him by spitting in his\nface. Handcuffed as he was, the intrepid American sprung upon the\ndastard, and knocked him at length upon the floor. The fellow hastily\nscrambled out of the reach of Allen, and placed himself under the\nprotection of the guard. Allen challenged him to fight, offering to meet\nhim even with irons upon his wrists, but the Briton, trembling with\nfear, contented himself with the protection afforded him by British\nbayonets, and did not venture to oppose the intrepid American. The\nprisoners were now forced into their den at the point of the bayonet.\n\nThe sufferings of the captives during the voyage were intense. Their\nprivations soon brought on diarrh\u0153a and fevers. But, notwithstanding\ntheir sickness, they received no attention from their jailers, and even\nthose who were crazed with raging thirst, were denied the simple boon of\nfresh water.\n\nOn arriving at Falmouth, the prisoners were all marched through the\ntown, to Pendennis Castle, about a mile distant. The fame of Allen had\npreceded him, and multitudes of people were gathered along the route to\ngaze upon him, and the other prisoners. The throng was so great, that\nthe guard were compelled to force a passage through the crowd. Allen\nappeared conspicuous among his fellow prisoners, by his eccentric dress.\nWhen captured, he was taken in a Canadian dress, consisting of a red\nshirt, a red worsted cap, a short fawn-skin jacket, and breeches of\nsagathy; and in this dress he was escorted through the wondering crowd\nat Falmouth. Ticonderoga was a place of notoriety, in England, and the\nhero who had so signally conquered it was an object of interest and\nwonder to the people.\n\nAllen was now visited by a great number of people, some of whom were\nattracted from great distances, in order to see and converse with the\nAmerican celebrity. Discussion ran high as to his eventual disposal.\nSome declared that he would be hung, and argued the justice of the act.\nBut others defended and supported the Americans. Even in parliament the\nmerits of the question were discussed.\n\nFrom their prison in Pendennis Castle they were removed to the Solebay\nFrigate, to be conveyed to America, stopping at Cork for provisions and\nwater. The commanding officer was harsh and cruel, and, on the first\nday, ordered the prisoners from the deck, declaring that it was a place\nfor gentlemen only to walk. A few days after, Allen shaved and dressed,\nand proceeded to the deck. The Captain addressed him in great rage, and\nsaid:\n\n\"Did I not order you not to come on deck?\"\n\nAllen replied that he had said that it was a place for gentlemen to\nwalk, and that he was Colonel Allen, a gentleman and soldier, who had\nbeen properly introduced to him.\n\nHis reply was characteristic of his brutal despotism: \"Don't walk on the\nsame side of the deck that I do,\" with an oath.\n\nThe sufferings of the prisoners continued, but when at Cork, their\nsituation received the attention of several benevolent gentlemen, who\nexerted themselves to relieve them. Ample stores and clothing were sent\non board, but the Captain refused privilege to the prisoners to enjoy\nthem.\n\nThe vessels proceeded to America, first casting anchor in the harbor of\nCape Fear, North Carolina. From this place Allen was removed to Halifax.\nHere his treatment continued of the same kind, that, from the first, had\ncharacterized his captivity. He received here some kind attentions from\nCaptain Smith, which he afterward had occasion to return in a signal\nmanner. After a confinement of two months he was removed to a\nman-of-war, to be conveyed to New York, for the purpose of effecting an\nexchange. When arrived on board of the vessel, he was delighted to find\nthat he was under the command of Captain Smith, who had before served\nhim.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n Horsewhipping a Tyrant.\u2014_Page_ 37.\n]\n\nWhen Colonel Allen met Captain Smith on board the vessel, he greeted him\nwith thanks for his kindness. The noble Captain disclaimed all merit,\nand said: \"This is a mutable world, and one gentleman never knows but\nthat it may be in his power to help another.\" This sentiment was\nstrikingly verified in the course of the voyage.\n\nOne night, as they were sailing along the coast of Rhode Island, Captain\nBurke and a few other prisoners came to Allen with a plan for destroying\nthe British officers, seizing the vessel, and carrying her into some\nfriendly port. A large quantity of cash on board was held up as an\ninducement for the enterprise. But Captain Smith had generously\ndistinguished the prisoners, and for this reason Allen strongly\ncondemned the plan. He declared that if the attempt was made, he would\nassist in the defense of the Briton, with all his skill and strength.\nFinding the conspiracy so strenuously opposed by the most influential of\nthe prisoners, it was abandoned, upon the assurance that they should not\nbe betrayed.\n\nUpon arriving in New York, Colonel Allen was released on parole, but\nrestricted to the limits of New York. An attempt was made soon after to\ninduce him to join the British ranks. He was offered a heavy sum of\nmoney, and large tracts of land, either in New Hampshire or Connecticut,\nwhen the country was conquered. The integrity of the man, however, was\nunassailable. His reply to the proposition was characteristic. He said\nthat the offer reminded him of a certain incident in Scripture. The\ndevil, he said, took Christ to a high hill, and showing him the kingdoms\nof earth, offered him their possession, if he would fall down and\nworship him, \"when all the while the damned soul had not one foot of\nland upon earth!\" It may be believed that those sent to negotiate with\nhim did not fail to understand the illustration.\n\nColonel Allen, in a narrative of his captivity, written by himself,\ngives a fearful account of the condition of the American prisoners in\nNew York. Before he was exchanged he was arrested on the absurd charge\nof breaking his parole, and thrown into the Provost jail. Here he\nremained from August to May, during which time he witnessed instances of\nsuffering of the most agonizing kind, and was himself compelled again to\nfeel the barbarous treatment of British officials. At the expiration of\nthe above period he was exchanged, and once more tasted of the sweets of\nfreedom.\n\nIt may not be out of place here, since we have given an account of\nBarton's brilliant exploit in the capture of General Prescott, to relate\nthe story of General Wadsworth's abduction, who fell into the hands of\nthe British in a manner somewhat similar, though the affair was\ncharacterized by no such daring on the part of the enemy as our own\nyoung officer showed, in venturing into the lines of the English, since\nGeneral Wadsworth was known to be almost wholly unprotected at the time\nit was resolved to take him.\n\nIn the spring of 1780 he was appointed to the command of a party of\nState troops in Canada, in the district of Maine. At the expiration of\nthe time for which the troops were engaged, General Wadsworth dismissed\nthem, retaining six soldiers only as his guard, as he was making\npreparations to depart from the place. A neighbor communicated his\nsituation to the British commander at Penobscot, and a party of\ntwenty-five soldiers, commanded by Lieutenant Stockton, was sent to make\nhim a prisoner. They embarked in a small schooner, and, landing within\nfour miles of the General's quarters, they were concealed in the house\nof a Methodist preacher by the name of Snow\u2014professedly a friend to us,\nbut really a traitor\u2014until eleven in the evening, when they made their\narrangements for the attack.\n\nThe party rushed suddenly on the sentinel, who gave the alarm, and one\nof his comrades instantly opened the kitchen door, and the enemy were so\nnear as to enter with the sentinel. The lady of the General, and her\nfriend, Miss Fenno, of Boston, were in the house at the time. Mrs.\nWadsworth escaped from her husband's room into that of Miss Fenno.\n\nThe assailants soon became masters of the whole house, except the room\nwhere the General was, and which was strongly barred, and they kept up a\nconstant firing of musketry into the windows and doors, except into\nthose of the ladies' room. General Wadsworth was provided with a pair of\npistols, a blunderbuss and a fusee, which he employed with great\ndexterity, being determined to defend himself to the last moment. With\nhis pistols, which he discharged several times, he defended the rooms of\nhis window and a door which opened into a kitchen. His blunderbuss he\nsnapped several times, but unfortunately it missed fire; he then secured\nhis fusee, which he discharged on some who were breaking through the\nwindows, and obliged them to flee. He next defended himself with his\nbayonet, till he received a ball through his left arm, when he\nsurrendered, which terminated the contest. The firing, however, did not\ncease from the kitchen until the General unbarred the door, when the\nsoldiers rushed into the room, and one of them, who had been badly\nwounded, pointing a musket at his breast, exclaimed, with an oath, \"you\nhave taken my life, and I will take yours.\" But Lieutenant Stockton\nturned the musket aside, and saved his life. The commanding officer now\napplauded the General for his admirable defense, and assisted in putting\non his clothes, saying, \"you see we are in a critical situation, and\ntherefore you must excuse haste.\" Mrs. Wadsworth threw a blanket over\nhim, and Miss Fenno affixed a handkerchief closely around his wounded\narm.\n\nIn this condition, though much exhausted, he, with a wounded American\nsoldier, was directed to march on foot, while the British wounded\nsoldiers were mounted on a horse taken from the General's barn. They\ndeparted in great haste. When they had proceeded about a mile, they met,\nat a small house, a number of people collected, and who inquired if they\nhad taken General Wadsworth. They said no, and added that they must\nleave a wounded man in their care, and if they paid proper attention to\nhim, they should be compensated; but if not, they would burn down their\nhouse. The man appeared to be dying. General Wadsworth was mounted on\nthe horse behind the other wounded soldier, and was warned that his\nsafety depended on his silence. Having passed over a frozen mill-pond\nabout a mile in length, they were met by some of their party who had\nbeen left behind. At this place they found a British privateer, which\nbrought the party from the fort. The Captain, on being told that he must\nreturn there with the prisoner and the party, and seeing some of his men\nwounded, became outrageous, and cursing the General for a rebel,\ndemanded how he dared to fire on the king's troops, and commanded him to\nhelp launch the boat, or he would put his hanger through his body. The\nGeneral replied that he was a prisoner, and badly wounded, and could not\nassist in launching the boat. Lieutenant Stockton, on hearing of this\nabusive treatment, in a manner honorable to himself, told the Captain\nthat the prisoner was a gentleman, had made a brave defense, and was to\nbe treated accordingly, and added, that his conduct should be\nrepresented to General Campbell. After this the Captain treated the\nprisoner with great civility, and afforded him every comfort in his\npower.\n\nGeneral Wadsworth had left the ladies in the house, not a window of\nwhich escaped destruction. The doors were broken down, and two of the\nrooms were on fire; the floors were covered with blood, and on one of\nthem lay a brave old soldier dangerously wounded, begging for death,\nthat he might be released from misery. The anxiety and distress of Mrs.\nWadsworth were inexpressible, and that of the General was greatly\nincreased by the uncertainty in his mind respecting the fate of his\nlittle son, only five years old, who had been exposed to every danger by\nfiring into the house; but he had the happiness, afterward, of hearing\nof his safety.\n\nHaving arrived at the British fort, the capture of General Wadsworth was\nsoon announced, and the shore thronged with spectators, to see the man\nwho, through the preceding year, had disappointed all the designs of the\nBritish in that quarter; and loud shouts were heard from the rabble that\ncovered the shore. But when he arrived at the fort, and was conducted\ninto the officer's guard-room, he was treated with politeness. General\nCampbell, the commandant of the British garrison, sent his compliments\nto him, and a surgeon to dress his wound, assuring him that his\nsituation should be made comfortable. The next morning, General Campbell\ninvited him to breakfast, and at table paid him many compliments in the\ndefense he had made, observing, however, that he had exposed himself in\na degree not perfectly justifiable. General Wadsworth replied that from\nthe manner of the attack, he had no reason to suspect any design of\ntaking him alive, and that he intended, therefore, to sell his life as\ndearly as possible. He was then informed that a room in the officers'\nbarracks within the fort, was prepared for him, and that an Orderly\nSergeant should daily attend him to breakfast and dinner at the\ncommandant's table. Having retired to his solitary apartment, and while\nhis spirit was extremely depressed by a recollection of the past, and by\nhis present situation, he received from General Campbell several books\nof amusement, and soon after a visit from him, kindly endeavoring to\ncheer the spirits of his prisoner by conversation. The principal\nofficers of the garrison also called upon him, and from them all, whom\nhe daily met at the commandant's table, he received particular attention\nand kindness.\n\n\"He now made application for a flag of truce, by which means he could\ntransmit a letter to the Governor of Massachusetts, and another to Mrs.\nWadsworth. This was granted on the condition that the letter to the\nGovernor should be inspected. The flag was intrusted to Lieutenant\nStockton, and on his return, the General was relieved from all anxiety\nrespecting his wife and family. At the end of five weeks, he requested\nof General Campbell the customary privilege of parole, and received in\nreply that his case had been reported to the commanding officer at New\nYork, and that no alteration could be made, till orders were received\nfrom that quarter. In about two months' time, Mrs. Wadsworth and Miss\nFenno arrived, and the officers of the garrison contributed to render\ntheir visit agreeable to all concerned.\n\n\"About the same time, orders were received from the commanding General\nat New York, which were concealed from General Wadsworth, but he finally\nlearned that he was not to be paroled nor exchanged, but was to be sent\nto England as a rebel of too much consequence to be at liberty. Not long\nafterward, Major Benjamin Benton, a brave and worthy man, who had served\nunder the General the preceding summer, was taken and brought into the\nfort, and lodged in the same room with him. He had been informed that\nboth himself and the General were to be sent immediately after the\nreturn of a privateer now on a cruise, either to New York or Halifax,\nand thence to England. The prisoners immediately resolved to make a\ndesperate effort to effect their escape. They were confined in a grated\nroom in the officers' barracks within the fort. The wells of this\nfortress, exclusively of the depth of the ditch surrounding it, were\ntwenty feet high, with fraising on top, and chevaux-de-frise at the\nbottom.\n\n\"Two sentinels were always in the entry, and their door\u2014the upper part\nof which was glass\u2014might be opened by their watchmen whenever they\nthought proper, and was actually opened at seasons of peculiar darkness\nand silence. At the exterior doors of the entries, sentinels were also\nstationed, as were others in the body of the fort, and at the quarters\nof General Campbell. At the guard-house a strong guard was daily\nmounted. Several sentinels were stationed on the walls of the fort, and\na complete line occupied them by night. Without the ditch, glacis and\nabattis, another complete set of soldiers patroled through the night,\nand a picket guard was placed in or near the isthmus leading from the\nfort to the main land. Notwithstanding all these fearful obstacles to\nsuccess, they resolved to make the perilous attempt.\n\n\"The room in which they were confined was railed with boards. One of\nthese they determined to cut off so as to make a hole large enough to\npass through, and then to creep along till they should come to the next\nor middle entry; and there lower themselves down into this entry by a\nblanket. If they should not be discovered, the passage to the walls of\nthe fort was easy. In the evening, after the sentinels had seen the\nprisoners retire to bed, General Wadsworth got up, and standing in a\nchair attempted to cut with his knife, the intended opening, but soon\nfound it impracticable. The next day, by giving a soldier a dollar they\nprocured a gimlet. With this instrument they proceeded cautiously and as\nsilently as possible to separate the board, and in order to conceal\nevery appearance from their servants and from the officers, their\nvisitors, they carefully covered the gimlet holes with chewed bread. At\nthe end of three weeks, their labors were so far completed, that it only\nremained to cut with a knife, the parts which were left to hold the\npiece in its place. When their preparations were finished, they learned\nthat the privateer in which they were to embark was daily expected.\n\n\"In the evening of the 18th of June, a very severe storm of rain, with\ngreat darkness and almost incessant lightning, came on. This the\nprisoners considered as the propitious moment. Having extinguished their\nlights, they began to cut the corners of the board, and in less than an\nhour the intended opening was completed. The noise which the operation\noccasioned was drowned by the rain falling on the roof. Major Benton\nfirst ascended to the ceiling, and pressed himself through the opening.\nGeneral Wadsworth next, having put the corner of his blanket through the\nhole and made it fast by a strong wooden skewer, attempted to make his\nway through, standing on a chair below, but it was with extreme\ndifficulty that he at length effected it, and reached the middle entry.\nFrom this he passed through the door which he found open, and made his\nway to the wall of the fort, and had to encounter the greatest\ndifficulty before he could ascend to the top. He had now to creep along\nthe top of the fort between the sentry boxes, at the very moment when\nthe relief was shifting sentinels, but the falling of the heavy rain\nkept the sentinels within their boxes, and favored his escape. Having\nnow fastened his blanket round a picket at the top, he let himself down\nthrough the chevaux-de-frise to the ground, and, in a manner astonishing\nto himself, made his way into the open field. Here he was obliged to\ngrope his way among rocks, stumps and brush in the darkness of night,\ntill he reached the cove. Happily the tide had ebbed, and he was enabled\nto cross the water, which was about a mile in breadth, and not more than\nthree feet deep.\n\n\"About two o'clock in the morning, General Wadsworth found himself a\nmile and a half from the fort, and he proceeded through a thick wood and\nbrush to the Penobscot river, and, after passing some distance along the\nshore, being seven miles from the fort, to his unspeakable joy he saw\nhis friend Benton advancing toward him. Major Benton had been obliged to\nencounter in his course equal difficulties with his companion, and such\nwere the incredible perils, dangers and obstructions which they\nsurmounted, that their escape may be considered almost miraculous.\n\n\"It was now necessary that they should cross the Penobscot river, and\nvery fortunately they discovered a canoe with oars on the shore suited\nto their purpose. While on the river, they discovered a barge with a\nparty of the British from the fort, in pursuit of them, but by taking an\noblique course, and plying their oars to the utmost, they happily eluded\nthe eyes of their pursuers, and arrived safe on the western shore. After\nhaving wandered in the wilderness for several days and nights, exposed\nto extreme fatigue and cold, and with no other food than a little dry\nbread and meat, which they brought in their pockets from the fort, they\nreached the settlements on the river St. George, and no further\ndifficulties attended their return to their respective families.\"\n\n\n\n\n THE MOTHER'S TRIAL.\n\n\nWho has not heard of Logan, \"the white man's friend\"\u2014that noble specimen\nof the Indian race, who, by his forbearance, prudence, and magnanimity,\nhas done so much toward elevating the character of the red-man to that\nhigh standard so forcibly depicted in the works of America's great\nnovelist\u2014Cooper. That there may have been thousands among the tribes who\ninhabited this continent at the period of its settlement by the whites,\nwho were actuated and controlled by the savage impulses of their\nnaturally brutal and cruel propensities, there can be no doubt; but\nthese pages give striking evidence that there were many who were\ngoverned by the dictates of higher instincts and loftier sentiments than\nthose of passion and prejudice.\n\nIn early life Logan lived at a place called Logan's Spring, in Mifflin\ncounty, Pennsylvania. The first settler in his immediate neighborhood\nwas William Brown, who afterwards became an associate Judge to Mifflin\ncounty, a post which he held until his death, at the age of ninety.\nWhile engaged in looking for a convenient spot on which to erect his\ncabin, he visited Logan at his camp, accompanied by his brother, and\nwhile there, engaged in a friendly contest of skill in the use of the\nrifle with the chieftain. A dollar a shot was the wager for which they\ncontended, and when they ceased it was found that Logan was the loser of\nseveral shots. Going to his cabin, he returned with as many deer-skins\nas he had lost dollars, and handed them to the winner, who refused to\ntake them, alleging that he was his guest, and did not come to rob him;\nthat the bet had been a mere nominal one, and he did not expect him to\npay it. The chief drew himself up to his full height, while a frown of\ninjured dignity darkened his brow, and exclaimed: \"Me bet to make you\nshoot your best; me gentleman, and me take your money if me beat,\" and\nas there was no wish to insult him, the winner was obliged to take the\nskins from their host, who would not accept even a horn of powder in\nreturn. So much for the Indian's honesty and integrity.\n\nMrs. Norris, a daughter of Judge Brown, gives some particulars relating\nto Logan, which are highly interesting. She says: \"Logan supported\nhimself by killing deer and dressing their skins, which he sold to the\nwhites. He had sold quite a quantity to one De Yong, a tailor, who lived\nin Fuguson's valley, below the Gap. Tailors, in those days, dealt\nextensively in buckskin breeches. Logan received his pay, according to\nstipulation, in wheat. The wheat, on being taken to the mill, was found\nso worthless that the miller refused to grind it. Logan was much\nchagrined, and attempted in vain to obtain redress from the tailor. He\nthen took his case before his friend Brown, then a magistrate; and on\nthe Judge's questioning him as to the character of the wheat, and what\nwas in it, Logan sought for words in vain to express the precise nature\nof the article with which the wheat was adulterated, but said that it\nresembled in character the wheat itself.\n\n\"It must have been _cheat_,\" said the Judge.\n\n\"Yoh!\" said Logan, \"that very good name for him.\"\n\nA decision was given in Logan's favor, and a writ given to him to hand\nto the constable, which, he was told, would bring the money for the\nskins. But the untutored Indian\u2014too uncivilized to be dishonest\u2014could\nnot comprehend by what magic this little bit of paper would force the\ntailor against his will to pay for the skins. The Judge took down his\nown commission, with the arms of the king upon it, and explained to him\nthe first principles and operations of civil law. \"Law good,\" said\nLogan; \"make rogues pay.\"\n\nBut how much more efficient the law which the Great Spirit had impressed\nupon the Indian's heart\u2014_to do unto others as he would be done by_.\n\nWhen one of Judge Brown's children was just learning to walk, its mother\nhappened to express a regret that she could not get a pair of shoes to\nsupport its first efforts. Logan, who stood by, overheard the remark,\nbut apparently paid no attention to it, although he had determined in\nhis own mind that the want of shoes should not hinder the little girl in\nher first attempts. Two or three days passed, and the remark had been\nforgotten by all save the chieftain, when, happening into their house,\nhe asked the mother if she would allow the child to go with him, and\nspend the day at his cabin. Mrs. B. could not divine the reason of such\na request, and all her suspicions were aroused at the idea of placing\nher little cherub in the hands of one whose objects she could not\nunderstand. The proposition alarmed her, and, without giving a decided\nnegative, she hesitated to comply. The matter was left to her husband,\nwho urged her to consent, representing the delicacy of Logan's feelings,\nhis sensitiveness, and his character for truth and plain dealing. With\nmuch reluctance, but with apparent cheerfulness, the mother at length\ncomplied, although her heart was filled with forebodings, as she saw her\nlittle one disappear in the woods in the arms of the chieftain. Slowly\npassed the sad hours away, and the poor mother could do nothing but\nthink of her absent one, in the hands of a savage warrior, the natural\nenemy of the pale-face. As the day drew to a close, she took her station\nat the window, and watched with the most intense solicitude for the\nreturn of her child; but hour after hour passed away without bringing\nany relief to her anxious heart. A thousand vague fears and conjectures\nfilled her mind with the many tales of Indian barbarity and treachery\nwhich she had heard, and as the shades of evening drew around the\nlandscape, and her little one had not returned, she felt that to hear of\nher death at the hands of the chief would be a relief to her overwrought\nbrain. Her husband endeavored to calm her agitated feelings, and soothe\nher into confidence in the integrity of Logan\u2014but with little effect;\nand it is probable that her apprehensions would have driven her to go to\nthe cabin of the Indian in search of her child. Just after the sun went\ndown, however, he made his appearance in the dim twilight, bearing the\nlittle treasure in his arms, who seemed delighted with her conductor for\nher arms were thrown about his neck as he bore her along with firm and\nrapid steps to her home. The mother's heart leaped with joy as she\nrecognized the persons of the chief and the child. She sprung from her\nchair, where she had passed so many anxious moments, and prepared to\nreceive the little one, around whom had been concentrated all her\nmaternal feelings that tiresome, lonely, and weary day. A few brief\nmoments, which to her seemed hours, brought the chief to the door, where\nhe released the child from its embrace, and sat it down upon the floor.\nThe mother caught it in her arms and hugged it to her bosom, while the\nfather addressed his thanks to the proud and gratified chief for a pair\nof beautiful little moccasins, adorned with beads and all the fancy work\nof an Indian's taste, which covered and supported the feet of the little\ngirl. During all that day, which had been so tedious and full of anxiety\nto the mother, Logan had been engaged in constructing and ornamenting\nthe little gift, by which he intended to show his appreciation of the\nmany favors he had received at the parents' hands.\n\nLogan was called a Mingo chief, or Mengwe, whose father was chief of the\nCayugas, whom he succeeded. His parent being attached, in a remarkable\ndegree, to the benevolent James Logan, after whom he named his son. The\nname is still perpetuated among the Indians. For magnanimity in war, and\ngreatness of soul in peace, few, in any nation, ever surpassed Logan. He\nwas inclined to friendship with the whites; nothing but aggravated\nwrongs succeeded in making him their enemy. He took no part in the\nFrench wars, ending in 1770, except that of peacemaker\u2014was always\nacknowledged to favor us, until the year 1774, when his brother, and\nseveral others of the family, were murdered.\n\nThe particulars were these. In the spring of that year some Indians were\nreported to have robbed the people upon the Ohio river, who were in that\ncountry, exploring the lands, and preparing for settlements. These\nland-jobbers, becoming alarmed at what they considered the hostile\ncharacter of the Indians, collected themselves at a place called Whiting\ncreek, the site of the present town of Wheeling, and, learning that\nthere were two Indians on the river above, Captain Michael Cresap,\nbelonging to the exploring party, proposed to fall upon and kill them.\n\nHis advice was first opposed, then followed\u2014the two Indians were slain.\nThe same day, it being reported that there were Indians below Wheeling,\non the river, Cresap and his party immediately marched to the place, and\nat first appeared to show themselves friendly, suffering the Indians to\npass by them unmolested, to encamp still lower down, at the mouth of\nGrove Creek. Cresap now followed, attacked and killed several, having\none of his own men wounded by the fire of the savages. Here some of the\nfamily of Logan were slain. This affair was exceedingly aggravating,\ninasmuch as the whites pretended no provocation.\n\nSoon after this the whites committed another unprovoked outrage upon the\nIndian encampment, about thirty miles above Wheeling, on the opposite\nside of the river. A white man by the name of Greathouse lived opposite\nthe encampment. He collected a party of thirty-two men, who secreted\nthemselves, while he, under pretense of a friendly visit, crossed the\nriver to ascertain the number of the Indians. On counting them, he found\nthey were too numerous for his own party. These Indians had heard of the\nlate murder of their friends, and had resolved to be revenged.\nGreathouse did not know of the danger he was incurring, until a squaw\nadvised him of it, in friendly caution to \"go home.\" He then invited the\nIndians to come over the river and drink with him, this being a part of\nhis plan for separating them, that they might be more easily destroyed.\nThe offer was accepted by a good many, who, being collected at a tavern\nin the white settlement, were treated freely to liquor, and all killed,\nexcept a little girl. Among the murdered was a brother and sister of\nLogan.\n\nThe remaining Indians, upon the other side of the river, upon hearing\nthe firing, sent off two canoes with armed warriors, who, as they\napproached the shore, were fired upon by the whites, who lay concealed\nawaiting them. Nothing prevented their taking deadly aim, so that their\nfire was terribly destructive, and the canoes were obliged to return.\nThis affair took place in May, 1774. These were the events which led to\na horrid Indian war, in which many innocent families were sacrificed to\nsatisfy the vengeance of an injured, incensed people. A calm followed\nthe first outbreak; but it was the calm which precedes the storm, and\nlasted only while the tocsin of war was being sounded among the distant\nnations.\n\nIn July of the same year, Logan, at the head of eight warriors, struck a\nblow upon some inhabitants in Michigan, where no one expected it. He\nleft the settlement of the Ohio, which all supposed would be first\nattacked in case of war, and hence the reason of his great successes.\nHis first attack was upon three men who were pulling flax in a field.\nOne was shot down, and the two others taken. These were marched into the\nwilderness, and, as they approached the Indian town, Logan gave the\nscalp halloo, and they were met by the inhabitants, who conducted them\nin. Running the gauntlet was next to be performed. Logan took no delight\nin torture, and he instructed one of the prisoners how to proceed to\nescape the severities of the gauntlet. This same captive, whose name was\nRobison, was afterward sentenced to be burned, but Logan, though not\nable to rescue him by his eloquence, with his own hand cut the cords\nwhich bound him to the stake, and caused him to be adopted into an\nIndian family. Robison afterward became Logan's scribe, and wrote for\nhim the letter, tied to a war-club, which was left, that same season, at\nthe house of a family cut off by the Indians, and which served to alarm\nthe inhabitants, and to call out the militia for their protection. It\nran thus:\n\n\"CAPTAIN CRESAP: What did you kill my people on Yellow Creek for? The\nwhite people killed my kin at Conestoga, a great while ago, and I\nthought nothing of that. But you killed my kin again on Yellow Creek,\nand took my cousin prisoner. Then I thought I must kill, too; and I have\nbeen to war three times since. But the Indians are not angry\u2014only\nmyself.\n\n \"CAPTAIN JOHN LOGAN.\"\n\nThere was a chief among the Shawanese more renowned as a warrior than\neven Logan at that time. Cornstalk was his name, and to him seems to\nhave fallen the principal direction of the war which was now begun. We\ndo not propose to give a detailed history of the fierce struggle which\nfollowed; but some account of the great battle at Point Pleasant cannot\nbe uninteresting.\n\nGeneral Lewis, with eleven hundred men, gave battle to fifteen hundred\nsavage warriors, under Logan, Cornstalk, Ellinipsico (Cornstalk's son,)\nRed Eagle, and other mighty chiefs of the tribes of the Delawares,\nShawanese, Cayugas, Wyandots, and Mingoes. The battle began a little\nafter sunrise, on a narrow point of land, between the Ohio and the Great\nKanawha rivers. The breastworks of the Indians, constructed of\nbrushwood, extended from river to river; their plan of attack was the\nbest conceivable, for in the event of victory on their part, not a\nVirginian would have escaped. They had stationed men on both sides of\nthe river, to prevent the escape of such as might attempt it, by\nswimming from the apex of the triangle made by the confluence of the two\nrivers. The Virginians, like their opponents, covered themselves with\ntrees, or whatever shelter offered; but the Indians had every advantage.\nHour after hour the battle lasted, the Indians slowly retreating to\ntheir breastworks, while the Virginians fought with desperate courage,\nfor life itself was at stake for all of them. Colonel Lewis, brother of\nthe commanding General, soon fell, under the fire to which his uniform\nparticularly exposed him. His division was broken, while another\ndivision, under Colonel Fleming, was attacked at the same moment, and\nthe Colonel received two balls in his left wrist, but continued to\nexercise his command with the greatest coolness. His voice was\ncontinually heard: \"Advance\u2014outflank the enemy; get between them and the\nriver. Don't lose an inch of ground!\" But his men were about to be\noutflanked by the body which had just defeated Lewis, when the arrival\nof Colonel Field's division turned the fortune of the day, but not\nwithout severe loss. Colonel Fleming was again wounded by a shot through\nthe lungs, and Colonel Field was killed while leading on his men.\n\nThe Indians fought with an equal bravery. The voice of Cornstalk was\noften heard during the day, above the din of strife, calling on his\nwarriors in these words: \"Be strong! be strong!\" and when, by the\nrepeated charge of the whites, some of his men began to waver, he is\nsaid to have sunk his hatchet in the brain of one who was cowardly\nattempting to retreat.\n\nGeneral Lewis finally decided the contest by getting three companies of\nmen into the rear of the Indians; these companies got unobserved to\ntheir destination upon Crooked Creek, a little stream running into the\nKanawha, whose high, wood-covered banks sheltered them, while they made\na furious attack upon the backs of the Indians, who, thinking\nreinforcements had arrived, fled across the Ohio, and immediately took\nup their march for their towns on the Scioto. It was sunset when the\nbattle ended.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n The Mother's Trial\u2014_Page_ 52.\n]\n\nThere was a kind of stratagem used in this contest, which was more than\nonce practiced by the experienced Virginia riflemen, during their fight\nwith the savages. The soldiers in Colonel Fleming's corps would conceal\nthemselves behind a tree, or some other shelter, and then hold out their\ncaps from behind, which the Indians, seeing, would mistake as covering\nthe heads of their opponents, and shoot at them. The cap being dropped\nat the moment, the Indian would dart out from his covert to scalp his\nvictim, and thus meet a sure death from the tomahawk of his adversary.\nThis game was practiced only by the \"prime riflemen,\" accustomed to a\nbackwoods life.\n\nAfter this signal defeat, the Indians were prepared to treat for peace.\nGeneral Lewis, after burying his dead, took up his perilous and\ndifficult march, his troops eager to exterminate the Indians; but\nGovernor Dunmore, having received numerous offers of peace, finally\nordered him to retreat. Lord Dunmore, with a force equal to that of\nLewis, was now at Chilicothe, where he began a treaty, conducted on the\npart of the whites with great distrust, who never admitted but a few\nIndians at a time into their encampment. The business was commenced by\nCornstalk, in a speech of great length, in which he charged upon the\nwhites the main cause of the war; and mainly in consequence of the\nmurder of Logan's family. A treaty, however, was the result of this\nconference, and this conference was the result of the Mingo chief's\nfamous speech, since known throughout both hemispheres. It was not\ndelivered in Lord Dunmore's camp, for, although desiring peace, Logan\nwould not meet the whites in council, but remained in his cabin in\nsullen silence, until a messenger was sent to him with the treaty, to\nknow if he consented to its articles. To this messenger he pronounced\nthat memorable speech:\n\n\"I appeal to any white man to say if he ever entered Logan's cabin\nhungry, and I gave him not meat; if he ever came cold and naked, and I\nclothed him not.\n\n\"During the course of the last long, bloody war, Logan remained idle in\nhis cabin, an advocate for peace. Such was my love for the whites, that\nmy countrymen pointed as they passed, and said: 'Logan is the friend of\nthe white man.'\n\n\"I had even thought to have lived with you, but for the injuries of one\nman. Colonel Cresap, the last spring, in cold blood, and unprovoked,\nmurdered all the relations of Logan, not even sparing his women and\nchildren.\n\n\"There was not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature.\nThis called on me for revenge; I have sought it. I have killed many\u2014I\nhave fully glutted my vengeance. For my country I rejoice at the beams\nof peace. But do not harbor a thought that mine is the joy of fear.\nLogan never felt fear. He will not turn on his heel to save his life.\nWho is there to mourn for Logan? Not one!\"\n\nCornstalk, a chief excelling even Logan in natural nobility of\ncharacter, and great bravery, who conducted the battle and the treaty,\nlost his life within a year from that time, under circumstances painful\nto all lovers of justice.\n\nUpon the breaking out of the Revolution, the year following, the British\nGovernment, through their agents, made the most strenuous efforts to\ninduce the Indians to take up the tomahawk in behalf of the king, and\nwere but too successful. Cornstalk, however, actuated by a high-toned\nfeeling of repugnance at the idea of breaking his plighted faith, and\nforeseeing the inevitable issue of the struggle\u2014being, moreover, a firm\nand consistent friend of the Americans\u2014refused to take any part in the\ncontest, and exerted the utmost of his influence to prevent his tribe\nfrom joining the coalition. His efforts proved futile, however, and the\ninfluence of British presents, and the example of the neighboring\ntribes, had the effect which he most dreaded. He did not live to see the\nresult of the struggle, being killed on the spot where he had but a year\nbefore fought so bravely in defense of his home and the graves of his\nsires. After the truce between the tribes and Governor Dunmore had been\nagreed upon, a fort was erected at Point Pleasant to commemorate the\nbattle and keep the Indians in check, and to this fort Cornstalk, after\nfinding that his efforts to preserve that compact intact would be\nunavailing, repaired to explain the position of affairs to its\ncommanding officer, Captain Arbuckle, and take his advice as to what\ncourse he should pursue. Red-hawk, the Delaware chief, who had also\nfought so bravely at Point Pleasant, and who was likewise opposed to\nresuming the hatchet, accompanied him in his visit. The chieftain\nexplained in the fullest manner the state of affairs among the Indians,\nand informed Arbuckle that he should be unable to restrain his tribe,\nwho seemed determined to dig up the hatchet, and once more commence an\nexterminating war against the settlers. Under these circumstances,\nArbuckle felt himself justified in detaining the chief and his companion\nas hostages, supposing that the fact of their principal leader being in\nthe hands of the Americans would have the effect of deterring his tribe\nfrom active hostilities. Thinking themselves that such a result might\nfollow, and earnestly desirous of not taking part in the contest, which\nthey knew must follow if they returned to their people, they remained\nwilling captives in the hands of Arbuckle, little dreaming of the fate\nwhich awaited them, and giving all the information which they possessed\nregarding the anticipated movements of the various tribes, and of the\nBritish agents among them.\n\nThe young chief, Ellinipsico, becoming anxious at the protracted absence\nof his father, set out in search of him, and, having traced him to the\nfort, he made his appearance on the opposite side of the river, and,\nbeing recognized by the chieftain, permission was given him to enter the\nfort, where the meeting between them was of the most affecting nature.\nThey entertained for each other the warmest feelings of affection, which\nthe young man displayed on the present occasion, by the enthusiastic\nmanner in which he embraced his parent, and sought to show his joy at\nmeeting him.\n\nThe hostages had been quartered in one of the cabins within the pickets\nof the fort, which, from its position, afforded safety and\nsecurity\u2014although they were not confined thereto, but allowed the range\nof the inclosure, and thither they bent their steps, and father and son\nsat down to take counsel in the present state of affairs. Ellinipsico,\nin common with the young men of his tribe, was in favor of joining in\nthe war, being anxious to distinguish himself, and win his way by feats\nof arms to the proud position which would be his own inheritance on the\ndeath of his father. From such a course, Cornstalk endeavored to\ndissuade him with all the eloquence for which he was distinguished\u2014but\nwith little effect. The young man felt the unconquerable enmity of his\nrace toward the white men, and burned to wash out in their blood the\nmany wrongs and injuries he had received at their hands. The afternoon\nand evening having been spent in conversation upon this subject, without\nany result, the chieftain and his son laid down to sleep on the floor of\ntheir cabin\u2014the last sleep they were destined to take this side of\neternity.\n\nOn the morning after the arrival of Ellinipsico, two men of the\ngarrison, named Hamilton and Gillmore, started out to hunt on the\nopposite side of the Kanawha river, not dreaming of any danger to be\napprehended from the Indians, hostilities not having as yet commenced.\nOn their return about noon, they were fired upon by two Indians, who had\ncome across the Ohio to reconnoiter the fort, and hidden themselves in\nthe weeds and brush, and Gillmore was killed. Colonel Stewart and\nCaptain Arbuckle were standing on the opposite shore when the firing was\nheard, and expressed their surprise to one another at the occurrence, as\nstrict orders had been given against all firing in the immediate\nvicinity of the fort. While anxiously awaiting a solution to the\nmystery, they discovered Hamilton on the other bank, who called to them,\ntold them that Gillmore had been killed, and entreated them to send a\ncanoe across to his relief. Captain Hall was dispatched with several men\nto the relief of the fugitive, and in a few moments they stood by his\nside.\n\nA careful search in the adjacent bushes discovered the body of their\ncomrade, shot through the head, and scalped. Placing the bloody corpse\nin the canoe, they recrossed the river, and with feelings of dire\nrevenge demanded the lives of the hostages in the fort. Pale with rage,\nand terribly excited at the murder of one of his companions, Captain\nHall placed himself at the head of his men, and marched toward the fort,\nthreatening death to the unarmed hostages. Captain Arbuckle and several\nof the officers threw themselves in their way, and endeavored to prevent\nthe execution of their bloodthirsty purpose; but this only excited the\npassions of the soldiers to the most ungovernable pitch, and cocking\ntheir pieces, they threatened death to all who interfered between them\nand their victims. Arbuckle was forced to give way, and witness a scene\nhe was unable to prevent, and the exasperated men rushed into the fort.\nThe interpreter's wife, who had been a captive among the Indians, and\nfelt an affection for them, rushed to the cabin to inform them that\nCaptain Hall's men were advancing to put them to death, because they\nentertained the idea that the Indians who had killed their comrade had\ncome with Ellinipsico the day previous. This Ellinipsico earnestly\ndenied, averring that he had come alone, with the only purpose of\nmeeting his father, and without dreaming of hostility. The clamor\nwithout announced the rapid approach of their executioners, and\nEllinipsico, being highly excited at the idea of being put to death for\na wrong he had not committed, showed considerable agitation. The veteran\nchief, however, had faced death on too many battle-fields to be alarmed\nat his approach now, and endeavored to reassure his son, and induce him\nto die as became the child of such a sire. \"If the Great Spirit,\" said\nhe, \"has decided that I should die, my son, and has sent you here to die\nwith me, you should submit to your fate as becomes a warrior and a\nchief.\" With courage revived by the exhortation of his father,\nEllinipsico prepared to meet with composure the death which he saw was\ninevitable. Covering his face with his hands that he might not see his\nexecutioners, he calmly awaited the stroke which was to deprive him of\nlife, and send him to the \"happy hunting grounds\" of his race. As the\ndoor of the cabin was burst open, Cornstalk rose with dignity, and\npresented his breast to the rifles of the infuriated soldiers. Seven\nbullets pierced his noble form, and he died without a struggle. His son\nwas killed at the same instant, and both fell to the ground together.\nRed-hawk, who had endeavored to hide himself, was dragged from his place\nof concealment and killed, as was another Indian who was in the fort,\nand who was fearfully mangled in the struggle.\n\n\"Thus,\" says Withers, in his Indian chronicles, \"perished the mighty\nCornstalk, sachem of the Shawnees, and king of the Northern confederacy\nin 1774\u2014a chief remarkable for many great and good qualities. He was\ndisposed to be, at all times, the friend of the white men, as he was\never the advocate of honorable peace. But when his country's wrongs\nsummoned him to the battle, he was the thunderbolt of war, and made his\nenemies feel the weight of his arm. His noble bearing, his generous and\ndisinterested attachment to the colonies, his anxiety to preserve the\nfrontiers of Virginia from desolation and death, all conspired to win\nfor him the esteem and respect of others; while the untimely and\nperfidious manner of his death caused a deep and lasting feeling of\nregret to pervade the bosoms, even of those who were enemies to his\nnation, and excited the indignation of all toward his inhuman\nmurderers.\"\n\nWe would not be thought the apologist for a deed like that which has\nbeen narrated; but, at the same time, cannot join the cry which is\nraised against it by those authors who stigmatize it is a \"cruel,\nbloodthirsty, inhuman, fiendlike murder.\" All the harshest terms in our\nlanguage have been hurled at the heads of those who were engaged in it,\nand with great injustice. Cruel and bloodthirsty it undoubtedly was, but\nit was the natural consequence of the war which was waged between the\nwhite and red-men, in which revenge for injuries inflicted was held to\nbe a sacred duty. Stone, with great want of candor, omits to mention the\nfact that Hall and his companions entertained the idea that the Indians\nwho had accompanied Ellinipsico had killed their fellow soldier; but, in\nlanguage of the severest cast, would lead us to suppose their act a\nmean, cowardly, cold-blooded massacre. He says: \"A party of ruffians\nassembled, under command of a Captain Hall\u2014not to pursue or punish the\nperpetrators of the murder, but to fall upon the friendly and peaceable\nIndians in the fort.\" What would have been the conduct of the Indians\nunder similar circumstances? The pages of his own work exhibit many\ninstances of similar cruelty and revengeful practice on their part; and\neven Brant himself is not free from it.\n\nTrue, in the present case, the perpetrators were white men, civilized\nand enlightened; but in the long and bloody wars of extermination which\nthey had waged with the savages, they had learned their mode of warfare;\nin fact, they could not hope for success in any other way, and the long\naccount of murders, massacres, burnings at the stake, and inhuman\ntortures, which, even at the present day, thrill the blood with horror,\nhad exasperated the feelings of those men who were surrounded by the\nactual reality, and expected no better fate themselves at the hands of\nIndians, should they be so unfortunate as to be captured, and they lost\nsight of the dictates of justice in the all-powerful and blinding spirit\nof revenge.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n The Women Defending the Wagon.\u2014_Page_ 8.\n]\n\n\n\n\n TALES,\n\n TRADITIONS AND ROMANCE\n\n OF\n\n BORDER AND REVOLUTIONARY TIMES.\n\n WOMEN DEFENDING THE WAGON.\n CAPTIVITY OF JONATHAN ALDER\n MOODY THE REFUGEE.\n THE LEAP FOR LIFE.\n\n NEW YORK:\n BEADLE AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS,\n 118 WILLIAM STREET.\n\n\n\n\n Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by\n BEADLE AND COMPANY,\n In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for\n the Southern District of New York.\n\n\n\n\n THE\n WOMEN DEFENDING THE WAGON.\n\n\nBetween the Blue Ridge and the western range of the Alleghany Mountains,\nin the northern part of the State of Virginia, is located Shenandoah\nCounty, which derives its name from the beautiful river, one branch of\nwhich flows through its entire length, from south to north. Its county\nseat is Woodstock, a thriving town, with a population of between one and\ntwo thousand inhabitants. This place was settled, previous to the French\nand Indian war, by hardy German yeomanry from Pennsylvania, who were\ntempted to leave the rugged hills of the Keystone State, by the glowing\nreports which had reached their ears of the surprising fertility and\nbeauty of the valley of the Shenandoah. Gathering up their household\ngoods, they turned their backs upon the homes of their first choice, and\ntook their way through pathless forests to \"the promised land.\" Arrived\nat their new home, they selected the site of the present flourishing\ntown as the nucleus of the settlement, and commenced, with a will, the\nlaborious task of felling the forest and the erection of their homes. A\nstockade fort was erected as a protection against the incursions of\npredatory bands of Indians. A short time sufficed to place them in\ncircumstances which, if not actually flourishing, were comparatively\nthrifty, and so far promising as to the future, that they were led to\nlook forward with hope to a long continued prosperity. They were a\nplain, frugal and industrious people, unacquainted with the luxuries and\nonly desiring the substantial requisites of an humble life, which were\nfurnished in abundance by the fertile soil of the valley in which they\nhad taken up their abode. A traveler among them during the French and\nIndian war thus speaks of their happy condition:\n\n\"I could not but reflect with pleasure upon the situation of these\npeople, and think, if there is such a thing as true happiness, in this\nlife, they enjoy it. Far from the bustle of the world, they live in the\nmost delightful climate and possess the richest soil imaginable. They\nare everywhere surrounded by beautiful prospects and sylvan scenes.\nLofty mountains, transparent streams, falls of water, rich valleys and\nmajestic woods\u2014the whole interspersed with an infinite variety of\nflowering shrubs\u2014constitute the landscape surrounding them. They are\nsubject to few diseases, are generally robust, and live in perfect\nliberty. They are ignorant of want, and are acquainted with few vices.\nTheir inexperience of the elegancies of life precludes any regret that\nthey have not the means of enjoying them; but they possess what many\nprinces would give half their dominions for\u2014health, content and\ntranquility of mind.\"\n\nAmong others who had been attracted to this valley by the glowing\naccounts of its fertility and comparative security, were two heads of\nfamilies by the names of Sheits and Taylor. The former was of German\nparentage, the latter of English birth, but having both married American\nwomen, and being drawn together by that bond of sympathy which, in a new\ncountry, where danger is a common heritage, unites with a stronger tie\nthan that of blood\u2014they were more like one family than two separate\nhouseholds.\n\nBeing driven from their homes by the massacre of two of their neighbors\nand their families, they hastily collected a few necessaries, placed\nthem, with their wives and children, in a wagon, to which was attached\ntheir respective horses, and started in search of a new home. Woodstock\nwas the nearest town, or station, where there was a fort, and toward\nthat place they directed their steps.\n\nThe family of Taylor embraced himself, wife, and three children, while\nthat of Sheits numbered but three\u2014himself, wife, and one child. The few\narticles which the limited room in the wagon, and the hurried nature of\ntheir departure allowed them to remove, were a chest of drawers, which\nwas a gift from the parents of Mrs. T., a feather bed, also a parental\ngift to Mrs. S., a brass kettle or two, some few culinary articles, and\nthe axes and rifles of the men. These and their horses, and a stout farm\nwagon, were all they had saved, yet they were well content to come off\nwith their lives, and trudged along, satisfied if they could but reach a\nhaven of safety from the barbarities which had been inflicted upon their\nless fortunate neighbors and friends.\n\nThe greater portion of their way lay through the forest, where every\nsound to their affrighted ears gave token of an enemy lurking in their\npath, and the rustling of a leaf, or the sighing wind, awoke their\nfears, and called up their latent courage. This had been passed,\nhowever, in safety, and they had reached the brow of the hill from\nwhence they had a view of the beautiful valley below, where they hoped\nto find a haven of rest. Pausing for a moment to admire the scene which\nopened before them, they gave vent to their feelings in eulogies upon\nthe lovely landscape, and words of encouragement to their wives and\nchildren. Alas, as they spoke, the deadly rifle of a concealed foe was\nleveled full at their breasts, and the savage red-skin was thirsting for\ntheir blood, within a few feet of them. Hidden by the thick underbrush\nwhich grew up by the side of the road, five tawny warriors, painted and\nbedecked with their war feathers, lay crouching like wild beasts, ready\nto spring upon their prey. Just as they started to resume their way, and\ndescend the hill toward the settlement, the crack of two rifles, the\nwhizzing of two leaden messengers, and the fall of their husbands,\nalarmed the women and widowed them at the same instant. The aim had been\nsure, and both the men fell without a groan, pierced through the heart\nwith a bullet from an unerring rifle. Quick as the flash from a summer\ncloud were all their hopes of safety and future happiness blasted,\nstricken to the earth with the fall of their husbands. No cry escaped\nthe now bereaved women. Their feelings were too deep for utterance, nor\nwas there any time for grief or repining. Left in an instant\nself-dependent, they looked around for the foe and for means of defense.\nNothing was within reach but the axes of their husbands; these they\nseized, awaiting the onset of the savages. They had not long to wait.\nPushing aside the foliage, the five warriors sprang, with a grunt of\nsatisfaction, from the thicket into the road, and made for the wagon to\nsecure their prisoners. The first who came up seized the son of Mrs.\nTaylor, and endeavored to drag him from the wagon, but the little fellow\nresisted manfully, looking, meanwhile, up into his mother's face, as if\nto implore protection at her hands. The appeal was not lost upon her.\nSeizing, with both hands, the axe of her husband, and swinging it around\nher head, she brought it down, with all the vengeful force of her arm,\nupon the shoulder of the Indian, inflicting a wound which sent him off\nhowling with pain. Turning to another, she served him in like manner,\nwhile Mrs. Sheits had sent a third back to his lair with a severe blow\nacross the hand which severed all his fingers. The other two were wise\nenough to keep without the reach of their blows, but endeavored to\nintimidate them by terrific yells and brandished tomahawks. Nothing\ndaunted, however, the heroic women maintained their attitude of defense,\nuntil wearied of their efforts, and, fearing the approach of relief from\nthe garrison of the fort, the two unwounded Indians rushed into the\nthicket for their rifles, to end the conflict. Taking advantage of this\nopportunity, the women started the horses, and the red-skins, not daring\nto pursue them, they were permitted to reach the fort in safety, from\nwhich a party set out to bring in the dead and scalped bodies of their\nhusbands.\n\nStories of such danger and fortitude as this can be but dimly realized\nby the women of to-day. Yet the annals of our early history are all too\npainfully darkened by such records; and it is well for the heroes of the\nprosperous present to know through what hardships this rich inheritance\nwas secured to them. Emigration did not stop in Virginia any more than\nit had rested in Pennsylvania:\n\n \"Westward to the star of empire takes its way;\"\n\nand the glorious Valley of the Mississippi won forward the daring steps\nof the pioneers. It is known how long and terrible was the contest by\nwhich Kentucky was wrested, inch by inch, from her ancient owners, until\nher lovely soil, baptized in sorrow, received the name of the \"dark and\nbloody ground.\" Here, as always where there is a chance for her\ndevelopment, and she is permitted to play her free part by the side of\nman, woman did her share of the onerous work, and had her share of the\nperils. One of the most terrible of the family histories of that period\nis the following, of the household of a widow, by the name of Shanks,\nfull particulars of which are given in the history of Kentucky.\n\nOn the night of the 10th of April, 1787, the house of Mrs. Shanks, on\nCooper's Run, in Bourbon County, was attacked by Indians. This house,\nwhich was a double cabin, consisting of two rooms, with an open way\nbetween, contained, at the time the assault was made, besides the widow\nherself, a widowed daughter, three other daughters, a young girl, and\ntwo sons of adult age. Although the hour was near midnight, one of the\nyoung men still remained up, and in the opposite room a sister was\nbusily engaged at the loom.\n\nAn hour before, while they were yet unconscious of the actual presence\nof Indians, the suspicions of the son was aroused by the cry of owls,\nhooting to each other in the adjoining wood, in a rather unusual manner,\nand by the terror and excitement of the horses, who were enclosed, as\ncustomary, in a pound near the house.\n\nSeveral times the young man was on the point of awaking his brother, but\nas often refrained, through fear of being ridiculed for his timidity. At\nlength hasty steps were heard without, and then came several sharp\nknocks at the door, accompanied by the usual question of the wayfarer,\n\"Who keeps this house?\" spoken in very good English.\n\nHe hastily advanced to withdraw the bolt which secured the door,\nsupposing the new comer to be some benighted settler, when his mother,\nwhose greater experience had probably detected the Indian accent,\ninstantly sprang out of bed, and warned her son that the men outside\nwere savages.\n\nThe other son being by this time aroused, the two young men, seizing\ntheir rifles, which were always charged, prepared to repel the enemy.\nConscious that their true character was discovered, the Indians now\nstrove to break in the door; but a single shot from the loop-hole\ncompelled them to shift their point of attack, when, unfortunately, they\ndiscovered the door of the other cabin, which contained the three\ndaughters.\n\nBy some oversight in the construction of the cabin, none of the loops\nenabled the brothers to cover the door of the room in which their\nsisters were. The Indians soon forced it open by means of rails taken\nfrom the yard fence. The girls being thus placed at the mercy of the\nsavages, one was instantly secured; but the eldest defended herself\ndesperately with a knife, and succeeded in mortally wounding a savage\nbefore she was tomahawked. The youngest girl darted out into the yard,\nand might have escaped in the darkness; but the poor creature ran around\nthe house, and, wringing her hands in terror, kept crying out that her\nsisters were killed.\n\nThe brothers, agonized almost to madness by her cries, were prepared to\nsally out to her assistance, when their mother stayed them, and calmly\ndeclared that the child must be abandoned to her fate. The next instant,\nthe child uttered a loud scream, followed by a few faint moans, and then\nall was silent.\n\nThat portion of the house which had been occupied by the daughters was\nnow set on fire, and the flames soon communicating to the opposite room,\nthe brothers were compelled to fling open the door, and attempt to seek\nsafety by flight.\n\nThe old lady, supported by her eldest son, sought to cross the fence at\none point, while the widowed daughter, with her child in her arms, and\nattended by the younger of the brothers, ran in a different direction.\nThe blazing roof shed a light over the yard but little inferior to that\nof day, and the savages were distinctly seen awaiting the approach of\ntheir victims. The old lady was permitted to reach the stile unmolested,\nbut, in the act of crossing, received several balls in her breast, and\nfell dead. Her son providentially remained unhurt, and, by extraordinary\nagility, effected his escape. The other brother, being assailed by the\nIndians, defended his sister desperately for some time, and drew the\nattention of the savages so closely to himself, that she succeeded in\neluding their vigilance. The brave and devoted young man was less\nfortunate; he fell beneath repeated blows from the tomahawks of his\nenemies, and was found at daylight, scalped and mangled in a most\nshocking manner.\n\nOf the whole family, consisting of eight persons when the attack\ncommenced, only three escaped. Four were killed on the spot, and one,\nthe second daughter, carried off prisoner.\n\nThe alarm was soon given, and by daylight thirty men were assembled\nunder Colonel Edwards, who pursued the Indian trail at a gallop,\ntracking the footsteps of the savages in the snow. The trail led\ndirectly into the mountainous country bordering upon Licking, and\nafforded evidences of great precipitation on the part of the Indians.\nUnfortunately, a hound had been permitted to accompany the whites, and,\nas the trail became fresh, and the scent warm, she pursued it with\neagerness, baying loudly and giving alarm to the savages. The\nconsequence of this imprudence was soon displayed. The enemy, finding\nthe pursuit keen, and perceiving the strength of their prisoner\nbeginning to fail, instantly sank their tomahawks in her head, and left\nher, still warm and bleeding, upon the snow. As the whites came up, she\nretained strength enough to wave her hand in token of recognition, and\nappeared desirous of giving them some information in regard to the\nenemy; but her strength was too far gone. Her brother sprang from his\nhorse, and endeavored to stop the effusion of blood, but in vain. She\ngave him her hand, muttered some inarticulate words, and expired within\ntwo minutes after the arrival of the party.\n\nThe pursuit was renewed with additional ardor, and, in twenty minutes,\nthe enemy was within view. They had taken possession of a narrow ridge,\nmagnifying their numbers in the eyes of the whites, by running rapidly\nfrom tree to tree, and maintaining a steady yell in their most appalling\ntones.\n\nThe pursuers, however, were too experienced to be deceived by so common\nan artifice. Being satisfied that the number of the enemy must be\ninferior to their own, they dismounted, tied their horses, and flanking\nout in such a manner as to enclose the savages, ascended as rapidly as\nwas consistent with a due regard to the shelter of their persons.\n\nThe firing commenced, and now they discovered, for the first time, that\nonly two Indians were opposed to them. They had voluntarily sacrificed\nthemselves for the safety of the main body, and had succeeded in\ndelaying pursuit until their friends could reach the mountains. One of\nthem was shot dead, and the other was badly wounded, as was evident from\nthe blood upon his blanket, as well as that which filled the snow for a\nconsiderable distance. The pursuit was recommenced, and urged keenly\nuntil night, when the trail entered a running stream, and was lost.\n\nWe know of nothing more powerfully illustrating the life led by the\nwomen of those days, than the following statements, brief and simple as\nthey are, made in the record of General Samuel Dale:\n\n\"About this time Joe Horn and Dave Calhoun went to their clearings to\nplant corn, very imprudently taking their wives and children with them,\nwho camped in the field. Being both off hunting one day, the prowling\nsavages made a clean sweep of these two families. The poor,\nheart-stricken husbands, almost crazy, returned to the fort, and the\nwhole night was passed by all of us in lamentations and vows of\nvengeance.\n\n\"For several months after this, we were not troubled, and my brother and\nmyself were boarded about ten miles off, at Halbert McClure's, to go to\nschool. Returning, one morning, from a visit home, we fell in with old\nMr. Bush, of Castlewood Fort, who informed us that he saw Shawnee\n'signs' about, and that we must go back to Glade Hollow, and give the\nalarm. Unfortunately, father had left, the day before, for the salt\nworks, on Holton river, and mother and the children were alone. About\nnine at night, we saw two Indians approaching. Mother immediately threw\na bucket full of water on the fire, to prevent their seeing us, made us\nlie on the floor, bolted and barred the door, and posted herself there\nwith an ax and a rifle. We never knew why they desisted from an attack,\nor how father escaped, who rode up three hours afterward.\n\n\"In two or three days all of us set out for Clinch Mountain, to the\nwedding of Hoppy Kincaid, a clever young fellow from Holston, and Sally\nMcClure, a fine, bouncing girl of seventeen, modest and pretty, yet\nfearless and free. We knew the Shawnees were about\u2014that our fort and\nhousehold effects must be left unguarded, and might probably be\ndestroyed\u2014that we incurred the risk of a fight, or an ambuscade,\ncapture, or even death, on the road; but in those days, in that wild\ncountry, folks did not calculate consequences closely, and the\ntemptation to a frolic, a feast, a wedding, a dance till daylight, and\noften for several days together, was not to be resisted, and off we\nwent.\n\n\"In half an hour we fell in with Captain Barnett, and twenty men from\nHolston, who warned us that Indians were about, and that he was scouting\nfor them. Father, ever eager for a fight, joined this company, and we\ntrudged on to Clinch Mountain. Instead of the bridal party, the\nwell-spread table, the ringing laughter, and the sounding feet of buxom\ndancers, we found a pile of ashes and six or seven ghastly corpses,\ntomahawked and scalped! Poor Hardy McClure was dead; several others lay\naround. One daughter was still breathing, but soon expired. Mrs.\nMcClure, her infant, and three other children, including Sally, the\nintended bride, had been carried off by the savages. They soon tore the\npoor infant from its mother's arms, and killed it, that she might travel\nfaster.\n\n\"While they were scalping this child, Peggy McClure, a girl twelve years\nold, perceived a sink-hole at her feet, and dropped silently into it. It\ncommunicated with a ravine, down which she ran, and brought the news\ninto the settlement. The Indians were too apprehensive of pursuit to\nsearch for her. The same night Sally, who had been tied and forced to\nlie down between two warriors, contrived to loosen her thongs and make\nher escape. She struck for the cane-brake, then for the river, and, to\nconceal her trail, resolved to descend it. It was deep wading, and the\ncurrent was so rapid, she had to fill her petticoat with gravel to\nsteady herself. She soon, however, recovered confidence, returned to\nshore, and finally reached the still-smoking homestead about dark next\nevening. A few neighbors, well armed, had just buried the dead. Kincaid\nwas among them. The last prayer had been said when the orphan girl stood\namong them, and was soon in the arms of her lover. Resolved to leave no\nmore to chance, at his entreaty, and by the advice of all, the weeping\ngirl gave her consent, and, by the grave of the household, and near the\nruined dwelling, they were immediately married.\"\n\nCan imagination add anything to this vivid picture?\n\n\n\n\n CAPTIVITY OF JONATHAN ALDER.\n\n\nThe narrative of the captivity of Jonathan Alder is one of great\ninterest and value, being a source from whence can be derived much\nimportant information regarding the customs, habits and manners of the\nIndians, among whom he spent fifteen years of his early life. We regret\nthat it is impossible to give more than an outline sketch of the\nincidents connected with his capture and adoption by the savages.\n\nHe was born in New Jersey, but removed with his father to Wythe County,\nVirginia, about 1780. In March, 1782, while he and his brother David\nwere in search of a mare and her foal, which had strayed off into the\nwoods, they were surprised by the appearance of a small party of\nIndians, who darted upon them from behind the trees, and, before\nJonathan had time to make an effort at escape, he found himself in the\ngrasp of a stalwart warrior, who threatened him with his tomahawk, and\nchecked the effort, if the idea had risen in his mind. David, however,\nstarted to run, and was pursued by one of the Indians, who soon\nreturned, leading him by one hand, and with the other holding the handle\nof a spear, which he had thrown at him, and which still remained in his\nbody. On seeing this, another savage stepped up and took hold of the\nboy, holding him firmly in his grasp, while the first pulled the spear\nout of the wound by main strength. The poor fellow uttered a shriek of\npain at this barbarous surgery, whereupon Jonathan moved toward him and\ninquired if he was hurt. He replied that he was, and in a few moments\nsank dying to the ground. Jonathan was hurried forward, while one of the\nIndians remained with the other boy; but in a few moments made his\nappearance with the scalp of David in his hand, and, as he approached,\nwith an exhibition of the most fiendish delight, he shook the reeking\ntrophy, from which the blood was still dripping, in the face of the lad,\nwho was so horror-stricken at the fate of his brother as to be scarcely\nable to proceed. Finding it necessary, however, for the salvation of his\nown life, he urged himself to his utmost, and they soon overtook the\nbalance of the party, with whom he found a Mrs. Martin, a neighbor, and\na child, about five years old, whom the Indians had taken captive after\nmurdering the husband of Mrs. Martin, and all the rest of her family.\nThey did not long leave her this solace to her misery, but finding the\nboy somewhat troublesome, they killed and scalped it, and, to still the\nagonizing cries of the broken-hearted mother, one of the inhuman\nwretches drew the edge of his knife across her forehead, at the same\ntime crying \"scalp! scalp!\" to intimate the fate in store for her if she\ndid not stop her screams. Finding threats of no avail, they then cut\nswitches, with which they beat her until she became quiet. One day, as\nthe boy Alder was sitting on the ground, after eating his dinner, and\nbeing completely worn out with the fatigue of their long and rapid\nmarch, not having risen when ordered to do so, he observed the shadow of\nsome one standing behind him with a tomahawk in his hand, in the\nattitude of striking. He turned suddenly around and beheld a warrior\njust in the act of tomahawking him. Finding himself discovered, perhaps,\nor struck with the good-natured look which the boy's face wore, he\nwithheld the blow, and commenced feeling of his head. He afterward told\nthe boy that the color of his hair had saved his life; for, upon\nnoticing that it was black and thick, he had thought that he would make\na good Indian, and therefore had concluded to take him to his tribe.\n\nThe party by whom Alder had been taken belonged to the Mingo tribe,\nwhose village was on the north side of Mad River. After many days of\nweary travel, and foot-sore and weary, they arrived in its vicinity. The\nusual scalp-yell and whoop, announcing the presence of prisoners in the\nparty, having been given, the whole village turned out to receive them,\nand Alder was obliged to undergo the ordeal of running the gauntlet. Two\nrows of Indian boys and girls were stationed in front of the\ncouncil-house, armed with switches, and, exhausted as he was, he was\ncompelled to run between them, and make his way within the door of the\ncouncil-house for safety from their blows. Fortunately he accomplished\nthis with his life, and was soon after adopted into an Indian family,\nafter being purified of his white blood. This was done by washing him in\na decoction of herbs, with soap; and after being dressed in the Indian\nfashion, with shirt, leggins, breech-clouts and moccasins, he was\nconsidered as one of the tribe. It is not to be wondered at that it was\nlong before he could become in any way reconciled to his new way of\nlife, and that he should mourn for that home which he never again\nexpected to see. For all one year, the poor boy longed to return to his\nmother, brothers and sisters. Every thing was new and strange to him; he\ncould not speak a word of their language; their food and manner of life\ndisagreed with him; and, as if to render his misery more complete, he\nsuffered dreadfully with the fever and ague. His adopted father was\nchief of the tribe, and he, as well as his squaw, endeavored to comfort\nhim in every way possible, and render his situation comfortable; but\nthey could not quiet his longings for home, and the poor little fellow\nspent many lonely, bitter hours, near the foot of a walnut-tree in the\nadjacent forest, weeping over his hard lot. The chief had three\ndaughters, named Mary, Sally and Hannah. Of these, Sally was harshest,\nmaking Jonathan do all the work, and stigmatizing him as a \"mean, lousy\nprisoner.\" Mary, the eldest, married a distinguished Shawnee chief,\ncalled Colonel Lewis, and Jonathan went to live with them for a time. Of\nthis couple he speaks in the warmest eulogy. He says: \"The Indians would\ngenerally collect at our camp evenings, to talk over their hunting\nexpeditions. I would sit up to listen to their stories, and frequently\nfell asleep just where I was sitting. After they left, Mary would fix my\nbed, and Colonel Lewis would carefully take me up and carry me to it. On\nthese occasions they would often say, supposing me to be asleep: 'Poor\nfellow, we have set up too long for him, and he has fallen asleep on the\ncold ground.' And then how softly would they lay me down and cover me\nup. Oh, never have I, nor can I, express the affection I had for these\ntwo persons.\"\n\n[Illustration:\n\n The Captivity of Jonathan Alder.\u2014_Page_ 15.\n]\n\nAt the end of a year, or little more, Jonathan acquired their language,\nand became in a measure reconciled and contented; but their food, which\nwas principally hominy and meat, went against him for a long time. As\nsoon as he grew stout enough to carry a rifle, they gave him an old\nmusket to begin with, and told him he must learn to hunt. Delighted with\nhis new trust, and pleased with the idea of becoming a hunter and a\nwarrior, he devoted himself to learn the use of the piece. His first\nessays were made upon mud-turtles, which he would approach as they lay\nbasking on a rock in the sunshine; and when he had acquired skill enough\nto kill them by hitting the rock just beneath them, and thus blowing\nthem into the air\u2014sometimes to the height of six or seven feet\u2014he tried\nhis skill upon larger game. Alder remained with the Indians until after\nthe treaty with Wayne, in 1795. He gives many particulars of great\ninterest concerning the movements of the Indians during the long and\nbloody wars which preceded that propitious event. Peace being\nestablished, and almost all the white prisoners having returned to their\nformer homes and friends, he began to feel a desire to see his mother\nand his relatives again. His long residence among the Indians, however,\nhad deprived him of all knowledge of the English language, and he had\nlost all recollection even of the State in which he had lived. He had\nnot, therefore, the least clew to aid him in the search.\n\nWatching his opportunity, however, and having long entertained the idea\nof escaping, he at last succeeded in eluding the suspicions of his red\nfriends, and in beginning his enterprise. Choosing a season of the year\nwhen game and berries were plenty, and stocking his bag with dried\nvenison, he set out, avowedly, on a hunting expedition; and the true\nobject of his journey was not suspected for some days after the time of\nhis expected return. He had nothing to guide him toward the white\nsettlements, except a knowledge that they lay in a northerly direction.\nHis skill in woodcraft being equal to that of the Indians', he was\nenabled to bear the fatigues and discouragements of his wanderings. A\nband of red men, whom he encountered, treated him as one of themselves,\nthey belonging to a friendly tribe; and, after three weeks of solitary\nmarches, sleeping at night as the circumstances permitted, he emerged\ninto a country once familiar to him, but now considerably changed during\nthe fifteen years of his absence.\n\nBut his friends, nor their surroundings, were not so much changed as\nhimself. He was not only an Indian in his appearance, but in many of his\nfeelings. Glad as he was to _get back_, he soon became very home-sick\nfor the wild life he had abandoned. The clothes, the warm beds, the\nchairs, the food and table, the restraints of civilization, were, for a\ntime, almost insupportable. It was but very gradually that the white\nblood of his ancestors begun to stir anew in his veins, and the powerful\nties and instincts of early associations to break up the strong bonds of\nmore recent habits. He was almost as many years in becoming a white man\nas he had been in growing an Indian.\n\nA writer upon the character of the Indians, in his defense of them, says\nthat if an Anglo-American were placed in the same circumstances with a\nnative, he would make a precisely similar person in every trait and\nhabit. \"This averment is sustained by a reference to the white people\nwho had been taken prisoners in childhood and brought up among the\nIndians. In every such case, the child of civilization has become the\nferocious adult of the forest, manifesting all the peculiarities, tastes\nand preferences of the native Indian. His manners, habits, propensities\nand pursuits have been the same; his fondness for the chase and his\naversion to labor the same; so that the most astute philosophical\nobserver has been unable to detect any difference, except in the color\nof the skin; and, in some instances, even this distinction has been\nremoved by long exposure to the weather, and the free use of oils and\npaints. There have been cases in which the children of white parents,\nwho have been raised among the Indians from early infancy, have been\ntaken home, in middle life, to their relatives, but have refused to\nremain, and have returned to the tribes in which they were brought up.\nOne case of this kind occurred within the knowledge of the writer. A\nfemale, captured in infancy, and reared among the Indians, was brought\nin by them at the treaty of Greenville, and sent to her parents in\nKentucky. She soon became so discontented and restless that, in spite of\nall their efforts, she left them, returned to her former associates, and\nwas again happy.\" All of which is doubtless true, but does not disprove\nthe many barbarous instincts of the red-men.\n\nIn the fall of 1788, Matthias Van Bebber, aged eighteen, and Jacob, aged\ntwelve years, were out a short distance from Point Pleasant, with a\nhorse, when they were waylaid by four Indians. Jacob was leading the\nhorse, and Matthias was a short distance ahead, with a rifle across his\nshoulder, when the Indians fired two guns at Matthias. One of the balls\nstruck him over the eyes, momentarily blinding him; he sprang one side,\nand fell into a gully. Jacob, on hearing the report of the guns, fled,\npursued by three of the savages. Matthias, in the mean time, sprang up\nand took to a tree. The remaining Indian did the same. The lad brought\nup his gun to an aim, the Indian dodged, when the former improved the\nopportunity to fly, and escaped to the fort. The other three, after a\ntight chase of half a mile, caught Jacob, who, being very active, would\nhave escaped, had not his moccasins been too large. They then retreated\nacross the Ohio with their prisoner. He was a sprightly little fellow,\nsmall of his age, and his captors, pleased with him, treated him kindly.\nOn the first night of their encampment, they took him on their knees and\nsang to him. He turned away his head to conceal his tears.\n\nOn arriving at their town, while running the gauntlet between the\nchildren of the place, an Indian boy, much larger than himself, threw a\nbone, which struck him on the head. Enraged by the pain, Jacob drew\nback, and running with all his force, butted him over, to the great\namusement of the gazing warriors. He was adopted into an Indian family,\nwhere he was used with kindness. On one occasion his adopted father\nwhipped him, but not severely, which affected his new mother and sister\nto tears. After remaining with the tribe about a year, he escaped,\ntraveling five days through the wilderness to his home. When he arrived\nat maturity he was remarkable for his fleetness. None of the Indians who\nvisited the Point could distance him in running.\n\nOne of the most interesting histories on record of the return of white\nprisoners from among the red-men is connected with Boquet's defense of\nFort Pitt, and his expedition from that fort into the wilderness, to\noverawe his adversaries by the display of his strength, and to recover\nthe vast number of men, women and children, held by the savages,\namounting, in all, to over three hundred. Fort Pitt stood on the present\nsite of Pittsburg, and, at the time of which we write, 1772, was the\nonly spot, excepting Fort Detroit, from the Falls of Niagara to the\nFalls of St. Mary, over which the English flag waved. Our splendid\nterritories were being ravaged by the Indians; families, who had\neffected a home and comforts, being driven back by the tomahawk, with\ntheir scattered remnants, to the East, from which they had emigrated, or\ninto Fort Pitt, which alone opposed itself to the murderous waves which\ndashed against, and threatened to undermine it. It withstood, like Fort\nDetroit, a long siege by the savages, was reinforced, the\nreinforcements, before reaching the fort, having given battle to, and\ndefeated the Indians.\n\nThe Indians, disheartened by their overwhelming defeat, and despairing\nof success against the fort, now that it was so heavily reinforced,\nretired sullenly to their homes beyond the Ohio, leaving the country\nbetween it and the settlement free from their ravages. Communication\nbeing rendered safe, the fugitives were able to return to their friends,\nor take possession of their abandoned cabins. By comparing notes, they\nwere soon able to make out an accurate list of those who were\nmissing\u2014either killed or prisoners among various tribes\u2014when it was\nfound to contain the names of more than two hundred men, women and\nchildren. Fathers mourned their daughters, slain or subject to a\ncaptivity worse than death; husbands, their wives, left mangled in the\nforest, or forced to follow their savage captors\u2014some with babes at\ntheir breasts, and some, whose offspring would first see the light in\nthe red-man's wigwam\u2014and loud were the cries for vengeance which went up\non every hand.\n\nBoquet wished to follow up his success, and march at once into the\nenemy's country, and wring from the hostile tribes, by force of arms, a\ntreaty of peace, which should forever put an end to those scenes of\nrapine and murder. But his force was too small, and the season too far\nadvanced. He matured his plans during the winter, and in the spring\nbegan his preparations. The Indians, in the meantime, had procured\npowder from the French, and, as soon as the snow melted, commenced their\nravages along the frontier. The aroused and desperate people of\nPennsylvania furnished a thousand men, and Virginia a corps of\nvolunteers, which, added to Boquet's five hundred regulars, made a force\nof nearly two thousand men, with which he was instructed to advance into\nthe enemy's territory, and, by one grand movement, crush the offending\ntribes. His route was without any water communication, and lay through\nthe heart of an unbroken wilderness. The expedition was to be carried\nout without boats, wagons, or artillery, and without a post to fall back\nupon in case of disaster. It was, indeed, an isolated and a novel\naffair. It was autumn before all obstacles were overcome, and the army\nunder way. It struck directly into the trackless forest, with no\ndefinite point in view, and no fixed limit to its advance. It was\nintended to overawe by its magnitude\u2014to move, as an awful exhibition of\npower, into the heart of the red-man's dominions. Expecting to be shut\nup in the forest at least a month, receiving in that time no supplies\nfrom without, it had to carry along an immense quantity of provisions.\nMeat, of course, could not be preserved, and so the frontier settlements\nwere exhausted of sheep and oxen for its support. These necessarily\ncaused the march to be slow and methodical. The corps of Virginia\nvolunteers went in front, preceded by three scouting parties\u2014one of\nwhich kept the path\u2014while the two others moved in a line abreast, on\neither side, to explore the woods.\n\nUnder cover of these, the ax companies, guarded by two companies of\nlight infantry, cut two parallel paths, one each side of the main path,\nfor the troops, pack-horses, and cattle, which followed. First marched\nthe Highlanders, in column, two deep, in the centre path, and in the\nside paths, in single file, abreast\u2014the men six feet apart\u2014and behind\nthem the corps of reserve, and the second battalion of Pennsylvania\nmilitia. Then came the officers, and pack-horses, followed by the droves\nof cattle, filling the forest with their loud complainings. A company of\nlight-horse walked slowly after these, while the rear-guard closed the\nlong array. No talking was allowed, and no music cheered the way. In\nthis order the unwieldy caravan struggled along, neither extremity of\nwhich could be seen from the centre, it being lost amid the\nthickly-clustering trunks and foliage in the distance.\n\nSome days they would make but two or three miles, and again, when the\nway was less obstructed, would make ten, fifteen or eighteen miles. On\nthe fourth day of their march, near some deserted Indian huts, they came\nupon the skull of a child, stuck upon a pole.\n\nThere was a large number of men in the army who had wives, children and\nfriends prisoners among the Indians, and who had accompanied the\nexpedition for the purpose of recovering them. To these the skull of\nthis little child brought sad reflections. Some one among them was,\nperhaps, its father, while the thought that it might stand as an index,\nto tell the fate of all who were captured, made each one shudder. As\nthey looked at it, bleached by the sun and rain, the anxious heart asked\nquestions it dared not answer.\n\nKeeping on their course, they pursued their difficult march, day after\nday, much of the time through a tangled wilderness, but occasionally,\nfrom some high point, catching glimpses of marvellous splendor of sky\nand scenery, the purpled sunlight of October wrapping all objects in a\nkind of enchantment. At times the path was so overgrown with bushes,\nthat every step had to be cleared with the ax; again, it would be over\nmarshes, so wet that bridges had to be constructed, to keep the cattle\nfrom sinking; and still again, the men would be cheered by an easy and\nrapid day's journey, along the banks of some pleasant stream. Ohio is\neven yet renowned for its glorious forests, and these, now dressed in\nall the gorgeous coloring of Indian summer, gave frequent pictures of\nbeauty which impressed the roughest of the sturdy soldiers.\n\nAt length they descended to a small river, which they followed until it\njoined the main force of the Muskingum, where a scene of a very\ndifferent character awaited them. A little above and below the forks,\nthe shores had been cultivated, and lined with Indian houses. The place\nwas called Tuscarora, and, for beauty of situation, could not well be\nsurpassed. The high, luxuriant banks, the placid rivers, meeting and\nflowing on together, the green fields, sprinkled with huts, and bordered\nwith rich, autumnal foliage, all basking in the mellow October light,\nand so out of the way there in the wilderness, combined to form a sweet\npicture, which was doubly lovely to them after being so long shut up in\nthe forest. They reached this beautiful spot Saturday afternoon, and,\nthe next day being Sunday, they remained in camp, men and cattle being\nallowed a day of rest. The latter, revived under the swell of green\ngrass, and, roaming over the fields, gave a still more civilized aspect\nto the quiet scene. The next day, the army moved two miles further down\nthe Muskingum, and encamped on a high bank, where the stream was three\nhundred feet wide.\n\nThe following day six chiefs came into camp, saying that all the rest\nwere eight miles off, waiting to make peace. Boquet told them he would\nbe ready to receive them next day. In the meantime he ordered a large\nbower to be built, a short distance from camp, while sentinels were\nposted in every direction, to prevent surprise, in case treachery was\nmeditated.\n\nThe next day, the 17th, he paraded the Highlanders and Virginia\nvolunteers, and, escorted by the light-horse, led them to the bower,\nwhere he disposed them in the most imposing manner, so as to impress the\nchiefs, in the approaching interview. The latter, as they emerged from\nthe forest, were conducted, with great ceremony to the bower, which they\nentered with their accustomed gravity, where, without saying a word,\nthey quietly seated themselves, and commenced smoking. When they had\nfinished they laid aside their pipes, and drew from their pouches\nstrings of wampum. The council, being thus opened, they made a long\naddress, in which they were profuse in their professions of peace,\nlaying the whole blame of the war on the young men, whom, they said,\nthey could not control.\n\nBoquet, not wishing to appear eager to come to a settlement, replied\nthat he would give his answer the next day, and the council broke up. A\npassing storm, however, prevented a meeting of the council until the day\nfollowing that first set. Boquet's answer was long and conciliatory; but\nthe gist of it was that he would make peace on one condition, and no\nother\u2014that the Indians should give up all the prisoners in their\npossession within ten days.\n\nRemaining quietly in camp until Monday, he again ordered the tents to be\nstruck, and recommenced his march, to show his determination to enforce\nhis commands. In three days he reached the forks of the Muskingum; and,\njudging this to be as central a position as he could find, he resolved\nto remain there until his mission was accomplished. He ordered four\nredoubts to be built, erected several store-houses, a mess-house, a\nlarge number of ovens, and various other buildings for the reception of\ncaptives, which, with the white tents scattered up and down the forks of\nthe river, made a large settlement in the wilderness, filling the\nIndians with alarm. A town with nearly two thousand inhabitants, well\nsupplied with horses, cattle and sheep, and with ample means of defense,\nwas well calculated to awaken the gloomiest anticipations in the breasts\nof the ancient inheritors. The steady sound of the ax, day after day,\nthe lowing of cattle, and all the bustle of civilization, echoing along\nthe banks of the Muskingum, within the very heart of their territory,\nwas more alarming than the resistless march of a victorious army; and,\nanxious to get rid of such unwelcome company, they made every effort to\ncollect the prisoners scattered amid the various tribes.\n\nBoquet remained here two weeks, occupied with sending and receiving\nmessengers who were charged with business relating to the restoration of\nthe captives. At the end of this time, two hundred and six, the majority\nof them women and children, had been received into camp. An hundred more\nyet remained in the hands of the Indians. These they solemnly promised\nto restore in the spring, and, as the leafless forest, the biting blast,\nand occasional flurries of snow, reminded Boquet of the coming on of\nwinter, he determined to retrace his steps to Fort Pitt.\n\nThese two weeks, during which the prisoners were being brought in, were\nfilled with scenes of the most intense, and often painful excitement.\nSome of the captives had been for many years with the Indians,\nrecipients of their kindness and love; others had passed from childhood\nto maturity among them, till they had forgotten their native language,\nand the past was to them, if remembered at all, but a half-forgotten\ndream. All of them\u2014men, women and children\u2014were dressed in Indian\ncostume, and their hair arranged in Indian fashion. Their features,\nalso, were bronzed by long exposure to the weather, so that they\nappeared to have passed more than half way to a purely savage state. As\ntroop after troop came in, the eager looks and inquiries of those who\nhad accompanied the army to find their long-lost families and kindred,\nmade each arrival a most thrilling scene. In some instances, where the\nseparation had only been for a short time, the recognition was\nsimultaneous and mutual, and the short, quick cry, and sudden rush into\neach other's arms, brought tears to the eyes of the hardy soldiers. In\nothers, doubt, agony, fear and hope, would in turn take possession of\nthe heart, chasing each other like shadows over the face, as question\nafter question was put, to recall some event or scene familiar to both,\ntill at last a common chord would be touched, when the dormant memory\nwould awake as by an electric shock, a flood of fond recollections sweep\naway all uncertainty, and the lost one be hurried away amid sobs and\ncries of joy. Sometimes the disappointed father or brother would turn\nsorrowfully away, and, with that hope deferred which maketh the heart\nsick, sadly await the arrival of another group. But the most painful\nsight was when a mother recognized her own child, which, however, in\nturn, persisted in looking on her as a stranger, coldly turning from her\nembrace, and clinging to its savage protector; or when a mutual\nrecognition failed to awaken affection on one side, so entirely had the\nheart become weaned from its early attachments. In these cases, the joy\nof the captors knew no bounds; the most endearing epithets and caresses\nwould be lavished on the whilome prisoner. But when they saw them taken\naway, torrents of tears attested their sincere affection and grief. The\nattitude of intense interest, and the exhibition of uncontrollable\nsorrow of these wild children of the forest, on one side, and, on the\nother, the ecstatic joy of the white mother as she folded her long-lost\nchild in her arms, and the deep emotion of the husband as he strained\nhis recovered wife to his bosom, combined to form one of the most\nmoving, novel spectacles ever witnessed in the American wilderness.\n\nOne of the captive women had an infant, three months old, at her breast,\nborn in the Indian's wigwam. A Virginia volunteer instantly recognized\nher as his wife, stolen from his log-cabin six months previous, and\nrushing forward he snatched her to his bosom, and flew with her to his\ntent, where, tearing off the savage costumes of both, he clothed them in\ntheir proper garments. After the first burst of joy was over, he\ninquired after his little boy, two years old, who was carried off at the\nsame time she was made prisoner; but his wife could give no tidings of\nhim. A few days after, another party of prisoners arrived, in which was\na child whose appearance answered to the description of this little\nfugitive. The woman was sent for and the child placed before her. She\nlooked at it a moment and shook her head. But the next instant the\npowerful maternal instinct triumphed, and, recognizing in the little\nsavage before her her lost darling, she dropped her babe, and snatching\nhim to her bosom, burst into a torrent of tears. The husband caught the\nbabe from the ground, and the couple hurried away to his tent. The poor\nIndian mother watched their retreating forms, and then burying her head\nin her blanket, sobbed aloud. A scene equally affecting occurred between\nan aged mother and her daughter, who had been carried off nine years\nbefore, and adopted in a distant tribe. Though the latter had passed\nfrom childhood to womanhood in the forest, differing from other young\nsquaws only in the tint of her skin, which her wild life could not\nwholly bronze, the eyes of the parent detected the features of her child\nin the handsome young savage, and calling her by name, she rushed\nforward to embrace her. The latter, having forgotten her name and\nlanguage, and all her childhood's life, looked on wondering, and turned,\nfrightened, to her Indian parent. The true mother tried in every way to\nrecall the memory of her child, and awaken recognition, but in vain. At\nlength, despairing of success, she gave way to the most passionate\ngrief. Boquet had been a silent witness of the painful interview. Moved\nat the grief of the mother, he approached her, and asked if she could\nnot recall some song with which she used to sing her child to sleep.\nBrightening at the suggestion, she looked up through her tears, and\nstruck a familiar strain, with which she used to quiet her babe. The\nmoment the ears of the maiden caught the sound, her countenance changed,\nand as the strain proceeded, a strange light stole over her features.\nAll stood hushed as death, as that simple melody floated out through the\nforest, watching with intense interest the countenances of the two\nactors in this touching scene. The eager, anxious look of the mother, as\nshe sang, and the rapidly changing expression of the captive's face as\nshe listened, awoke the profoundest sympathy of Boquet's generous heart,\nso that he could hardly restrain his feelings. Slowly, almost painfully,\nthe dormant memory awoke from its long sleep; at length the dark cloud\nwas rent asunder, and the scenes of childhood came back in all the\nfreshness of their early springtime, and the half-wild young creature\nsank in joy on her mother's bosom.\n\nSome of the children had been so long with their captors that they\nregarded them as their true parents, crying bitterly at being separated\nfrom them. Stranger still, the young women had become so attached to\ntheir savage but kind husbands, that, when told they were to be given up\nto their white friends, they refused to go; and many of them had to be\nbound and brought as prisoners to camp. The promise that they should\ntake their half-breed children with them, could not change their wishes.\nOn the other hand, the Indians clung to them with a tenacity and\nfondness which made the spectators forget that they were gazing upon\nsavages. It was pitiful to see their habitual stoicism give way so\ncompletely at the prospect of separation. They made no effort to conceal\ntheir grief; the chieftain's eye, which gleamed like his tomahawk in\nbattle, now wept like a child's. His strong nature seemed wholly\nsubdued; his haughty bearing changed to one of humility, as he besought\nthe white men to treat his pale-face squaw tenderly. His wild life\nsuddenly lost all its charms, and he hung round the camp to get a sight\nof her whom, though she was lost to him, he still loved. He watched near\nthe log-building in which she was left, leaving it only to bring from\nthe forests pheasants, wild pigeons, or some delicacy to lay at her\nfeet. Some of the young captive wives refused to be comforted, and,\nusing that sagacity they had acquired during their sojourn with the\nred-men, managed to escape from their white friends, and, joining their\nswarthy lovers, fled with them to the forest.\n\nThe American wilderness never before presented such a spectacle as was\nexhibited on the banks of the Muskingum. It was no longer a hostile\ncamp, but a stage on which human nature was displaying its most noble,\nattractive traits; or, rather, a sublime poem, enacted in that lovely\nnatural temple, whose burden was human affection, and whose great\nargument, the common brotherhood of mankind.\n\nBoquet and his officers were deeply impressed. They could hardly believe\ntheir own eyes when they saw young warriors whose deeds of daring\nferocity had made their names a terror on the frontier, weeping like\nchildren over their bereavement.\n\nA treaty of peace having been concluded between the various tribes,\nBoquet, taking hostages to secure their good behavior, and the return of\nthe remaining prisoners, broke up his camp on the 18th of November, and\nbegan to retrace his steps towards Fort Pitt. The leafless forest rocked\nand roared above the little army, as it once more entered its gloomy\nrecesses; and that lovely spot on the banks of the Muskingum, which had\nwitnessed such strange scenes, lapsed again into its primeval quiet.\n\n\n\n\n MOODY, THE REFUGEE.\n\n\nIn about the central part of Sussex county, New Jersey, two miles south\nof the village of Newton, the county seat, are two ponds or bodies of\nwater, which go by the name of the \"Big\" and \"Little Muckshaw.\" The\nlower, or Little Muckshaw, loses itself, at its western extremity, in a\nmarsh or swamp, which is almost impassable, except after a long drought.\nThis vicinity possesses some considerable interest, from having been the\nhaunt of one of those fiends in human shape, who preyed upon the\nsubstance of the patriotic citizens of the neighborhood during that\ngloomy period in our Revolutionary contest, when even the Father of his\ncountry was wrapped in despondency at the prospect for the future.\n\nBonnel Moody was a ruffian of the deepest dye, and possessed of all\nthose qualities which constitute an accomplished freebooter and\nhighwayman. He was cunning as a fox; energetic and determined in the\npursuit of an object; void of all pity or remorse; avaricious as a\nmiser; and with a brute courage which made him formidable in combat, he\nwas a dangerous enemy in the midst of the inhabitants of Sussex county,\nas they learned to their cost during the war. His place of retreat, or\nrather, his lair\u2014for it was more like the haunt of some wild beast than\nthe abode of human beings\u2014was on the west side of the swamp above\nmentioned, where nature seemed to have provided him with a retreat more\nimpregnable than art could have furnished him. A point of land projects\ninto the western side of the marsh, affording only a very narrow and\ndifficult foothold for one man to pass between its base and an inlet of\nthe pond which washes the foot of the rocks. The ledge then recedes in\nthe shape of a crescent, forming a little cove, with water in front and\nrocks behind and above. About forty-five yards from this point is a huge\nrock, screened by overhanging trees and shrubs, in which is a cavern,\nwhere Moody and his gang of marauders found shelter when their deeds of\nrapine and murder had roused the inhabitants of the vicinity to rid\nthemselves of the dangerous foe. This cavern is eighteen feet high in\nfront, gradually receding until it meets the foundation at a distance of\nfifteen feet, and about fifty feet in length from north to south. Beyond\nthis cavern the ledge again approaches the marsh, into which it\nprojects, forming an elbow almost impossible to pass around, and on the\nopposite side it again recedes, presenting a bold and rugged aspect,\nheightened by the gloom of perpetual shade, numerous cavern-like\nfissures, and masses of rock which have fallen, from time to time, from\nthe overhanging ledge. One of these is a large, flat slab, about ten\nfeet long, six high, and between three and four feet thick, which has\nfallen in such a position as to leave a passage behind it of about a\nyard in width. The rocks above project over this slab, so as to shield\nit effectually from that quarter, and a half-dozen men might defend\nthemselves behind this natural buckler against the attack of an army.\nSuch was the haunt of Moody, and his congenial band of Tory cut-throats\nand murderers; and from here, like a flock of ravenous wolves would they\nissue, when opportunity offered, and lay waste and destroy all within\ntheir reach until danger threatened, when they would retreat to this\nnatural fastness with their ill-gotten plunder, here to divide and\nsecrete it. From the brow of the ledge, which rises nearly a hundred\nfeet from the water, they had a fair view of every avenue to their\nhiding-place, and no one ever approached it alive except Moody and his\nassociates, or perhaps some friend of theirs, with provision or\ninformation. There were those so lost to principle as to furnish this\ncrew of land-pirates with the necessaries of life, and with accurate\nintelligence of every movement, on the part of the Americans, which\noccurred in the vicinity. Several attempts to capture the wretch were\nfrustrated by these loyal friends. At one time, when a party, having\ntracked him for some distance, were about to spring upon him, he was\nalarmed by a negro in time to make his escape; and on another occasion a\nyoung woman mounted a horse and rode some twelve or fourteen miles, of a\ndark night, to warn him of a projected attack by a party of Whigs, who\nhad determined to capture him at all hazards. One cold winter night he\nbroke into the house of a Mr. Ogden, and after robbing it of every thing\nof any value, he took the old man out in the yard, and made him take an\noath not to make known his visit until a sufficient time had elapsed for\nhimself and his party to make their escape. Two or three men who were\nworking for Mr. Ogden, and who slept in a loft up stairs, not feeling\nbound by the old man's oath, alarmed the neighborhood and commenced a\npursuit. Their track was easily followed in the snow, and in the morning\nthey came upon a camp where the marauders had slept over night, and\nwhere their fires were still burning. The chase was kept up until they\nreached Goshen, in the State of New York, where they recovered part of\nthe plunder, but the rascals escaped. These expeditions in pursuit of\nthe Tory wretch were called \"Moody-hunting,\" and were followed up\nfrequently with great energy.\n\nOne night, about twelve o'clock, he made his appearance at the bedside\nof the jailer, and demanded the key of the jail. The poor frightened\nofficial readily gave it up, although he had often declared that he\nwould not surrender it to him, and with it Moody opened the doors and\nset all the prisoners free. Two of them were condemned to death; one,\nwho was condemned to die for robbery, being unacquainted with the\nneighborhood, wandered about all night and next day in the woods, and\nwas discovered in a hollow tree the next evening by a party of\n\"coon-hunters,\" who brought him back; and he was hung in front of the\njail, protesting his innocence to the last. He was subsequently proved\nto be guiltless of the crime for which he suffered; and the wretch who\nactually committed the deed confessed on his death-bed that he it was\nwho did the act for which another had suffered. On this occasion, Moody\nwas more just than the law, and the prisoner's cause better than his\nfortune.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n Moody, the Refugee.\u2014_Page_ 32.\n]\n\nWhile the American army was encamped at Morristown, a man very shabbily\ndressed, and mounted on a broken-down nag, all of whose \"_points_\" were\nexhibited to the fullest extent, was seen one day to enter the camp, and\npass leisurely through it, scrutinizing every thing as he went; and\nalthough he assumed a perfect nonchalance, and was to all appearance a\nsimple-hearted and rather soft-headed country farmer, yet there was\nsomething in his manner which attracted the attention of an officer, who\nwas drilling a squad of recruits in the open air. One of these thought\nthere was something about the face which he recognized, and told his\nofficer so. One of the squad was mounted and ordered to bring him back.\nMoody\u2014for he it was who had thus boldly entered the American lines and\nreconnoitered their ranks\u2014shot him dead as he came up, and secreted the\nbody by the side of the road. Another being sent to assist the first,\nMoody secreted himself in the woods and escaped. Having been driven from\nhis former haunts by the untiring activity of the Whigs, and being too\nwell known to venture much abroad, he determined to join the British\narmy in New York. While attempting to cross to the city with a companion\nin an open boat, they were captured, brought back to Morristown, and\nhung as traitors and spies. Moody was said to have come from Kingwood\ntownship, Hunterton County, and was employed by the British to obtain\nrecruits in New Jersey among the Tory inhabitants, act as a spy upon the\nAmericans, and by his maraudings to keep the inhabitants so busy at home\nas to prevent their joining or aiding the American army.\n\nAnother desperado of those days was Joseph, or \"Joe Bettys,\" a\nremarkable character, who figured in the border wars of the Revolution.\nHe was a renegade from the American army, and for a long while was the\nscourge of the New York frontier. His deeds were marked by an equal\nboldness and cruelty, that made him the terror of all who had the\nmisfortune to be ranked as his enemies. His principal employment was the\nabduction of citizens to be conveyed into Canada, for each of whom he\nreceived a bounty; and in his expeditions for this purpose, he was\nalways accompanied by small bodies of Indians. His hour for executing\nhis projects was at night, and it frequently happened that his conduct\nwas not confined to the securing of prisoners, but he often reveled in\nthe destruction of property and the infliction of cruelty, and his\nvictims were often tormented by every means his savage ingenuity could\ndevise. Cold-blooded murder, and reckless barbarities of every kind,\ncontinually stained his soul. The section of country which suffered from\nhis marauding expeditions, to this day is rife with stories of his\ndaring and ferocity.\n\nIn the year 1776, he entered as Sergeant in the New York forces, in\nwhich capacity he served his country faithfully, until, being\nexasperated at the treatment which he received from one of his superior\nofficers, and retorting with threats and menaces, he was reduced to the\nposition of a common sentinel. This was more than he could bear, and he\nwould have deserted, had not Lieutenant Ball, who had before befriended\nhim, anticipating such a step, applied and procured for him appointment\nas Sergeant on board one of the vessels on Lake Champlain, commanded by\nArnold, which he accepted. In an action that ensued, Bettys displayed a\nwonderful daring and gallantry, which receiving no other notice than the\nthanks of his General, he conceived himself slighted, and determined to\nretaliate. In the spring of 1777, he deserted and went over to the\nBritish forces, where he was soon elevated to the position of a spy, in\nwhich character he carried on the depredations we have spoken of.\n\nAmong the prisoners that he secretly seized and carried off in the early\npart of his career, was Samuel Patchim, afterward a Captain in the army.\nThe account of his captivity and subsequent hardships, as here given, is\nas it was related by himself:\n\n\"I was captured by Bettys, taken into Canada, and confined in Chamblee\nprison, in irons. I was the only prisoner whom he had on this occasion\nbrought into Canada. There were six or seven more of my neighbors when\nwe started, to whom he gave the oath of allegiance and sent them back.\nAs for myself, he said I had served Congress long enough, and that I\nshould now serve the king. He wished me to enlist in his company, but\nsoon found that this was not agreeable to my feelings. He then swore,\nthat if I would not serve the king, I should remain in irons. I was\nconfined in Chamblee prison four months; then I was removed to Montreal,\nand thence to an island, forty-five miles up the St. Lawrence, opposite\nCadalake Fort. There I remained about one year. There were five\nprisoners in all, and we were guarded by sixty soldiers, seven sentinels\nat night. They had left no boats on the island by which we might make\nour escape, yet we all crawled out of the barracks at night, and went to\nthe river side; there we made a raft by means of two or three logs and\nour suspenders, on which we sailed down the river five miles, when we\nlanded on the Canada shore. There we appropriated to our own use a boat\nbelonging to the British, and crossed over to the American shore. While\ngoing down the rapids, we had lost our little stock of provisions, and\nfor eight days out of twelve which we spent in the woods, we had nothing\nto eat save frogs and rattlesnakes, and not half enough of them. We were\nchased eight days by the Indians, and slept every night on the boughs of\nsome hemlock trees. At length we arrived at Northwest Bay, on Lake\nChamplain, when my companions, unable longer to travel, utterly gave\nout. I then constructed a raft on which to cross the lake, and having\nstripped my companions of their clothing, in order to make myself\ncomfortable, left them to die of hunger and fatigue, and committed\nmyself to the wintry waves. When in about the center of the lake, I was\ntaken by the crew of a British ship, and conveyed to St. John's, from\nthence to Quebec, and finally to Boston, where I was exchanged and sent\nhome.\"\n\nBettys seemed to have a particular delight in taking prisoners among his\nown townsmen, and especially those against whom he held any grudge. On\none occasion, having taken one whom he supposed to be the object he\nsought, and his prisoner managing to escape, he deliberately shot him\ndead, and then discovered that he had made a fatal mistake, and killed\none of his best friends.\n\nBut his bloody career was destined to find a retributive end. One day,\nin the winter of 1781-2, a suspicious-looking person was seen to pass\nover the farm of one John Fulmer, situated near Ballston Lake, in Albany\nCounty. A son of the farmer, Jacob, immediately obtained the aid of\nthree of his neighbors, James and John Cory, and Francis Perkins, and\nstarted in pursuit of the suspicious stranger. There was a light fall of\nsnow on the ground, by which means his course was easily tracked. But we\nwill give an account of the enterprise in the words of Jacob Fulmer, one\nof the party:\n\n\"The morning had been foggy, and it appeared by the track that the man\nhad made a circuitous route, as if lost or bewildered. After making\nseveral turns, we came at length in sight of a log house, where one\nHawkins, a noted Tory, lived, toward which it appeared he had laid a\nregular line. We followed the track, and found that it went into the\nhouse. We approached undiscovered, for the snow was soft, and our\nfootsteps were not heard. We went up to the door, and found it was\nunfastened, but heard people talking within. John Cory, who was the\nstrongest of the party, now went forward, we following closely behind,\nand burst open the door. The man who was the object of our suspicions\nand search sat at the table eating his breakfast, with the muzzle of his\ngun leaning upon his shoulder, and the breech upon the floor between his\nknees. He grasped his musket, and presented it to fire at us, but was\nhindered for a moment to remove the deer-skin covering from the lock,\nand that moment lost his life. We seized him, took possession of his\ngun, and also two pistols, which he had in his coat pockets, and a\ncommon jack-knife. We then bound his arms behind him, with a pocket\nhandkerchief, and conveyed him to my father's house. As yet, we knew not\nthe name of our prisoner, but having asked him, he said: 'My name is\nSmith.' My mother knew him, and said: 'It is Joe Bettys.' He hung his\nhead, and said: 'No, my name is Smith.' My sister Polly then came to the\ndoor, and said: 'This is Joe Bettys, I know him well.' She had known him\nbefore he went to Canada, as he had boarded at Lawrence Van Epps, in\nSchenectady Patent, while she lived in the same house. We then conveyed\nhim to John Cory's house, about a quarter of a mile distant, where we\npinioned him more firmly. He sat down in a chair by the fire, and asked\npermission to smoke, which was granted, and he then took out his tobacco\nbox, and seemed to be engaged in filling his pipe, but as he stooped\ndown, under pretence of lighting it, he threw something toward the fire\nwhich bounded from the forestick and fell upon the hearth. He then\nseized it, and threw it into the fire, before any one could prevent.\nJohn Cory then snatched it from the fire, with a handful of live coals.\nIt was not injured. It was a piece of lead about three inches long, and\none and a quarter inch wide, pressed together, and contained within it a\nsmall piece of paper, on which were twenty-six figures, which none of\nour company could understand. It also contained an order, drawn on the\nMayor of New York, for thirty pounds sterling, payable on the delivery\nof the sheet-lead and paper inclosed. Bettys showed much uneasiness at\nthe loss of the lead, and offered one hundred guineas to allow him to\nburn the paper. This we refused, for, though we did not understand the\nfigures, we well knew the character of Bettys, as I had heard that he\nhad killed two men at Shenesborough, near Whitehall, for fear of being\nbetrayed in regard to the burning and plundering of a house in\nChaughnawaga, and that he was generally known as a spy.\"\n\nThe narrative goes on to give the particulars of the journey to Albany,\nand the precautions taken to convey their prisoner safely through a\ndistrict abounding with Tories, who were affected to Bettys, but no\nrescue was attempted.\n\nMuch rejoicing was expressed at the capture of the notorious Bettys, and\nwhen he was marched through Albany, the people gathered in masses to\nlook upon him. In a short time he was brought to trial, on the charge of\nbeing a spy, found guilty, condemned, and accordingly executed in the\nmonth of April, 1782.\n\nAmong other similar excursions, Bettys once made an audacious eruption\ninto the city of Albany, for the purpose of abducting General Schuyler,\nfor whom he would have received a most liberal reward from the\nauthorities in Canada, who so long and so vainly endeavored to get that\nchivalric officer into their possession. He was unsuccessful.\n\nThe attempt, referred to above, of Joe Bettys, to assassinate or take\nprisoner General Schuyler, was not singular in the history of that brave\nand beloved officer. He seemed fated to be ever surrounded with perils,\nin the seclusion of his home quite as much as on the field of battle.\nHis noble private character, his fortune, and his high, unequalled,\nunresting patriotism, made him a shining mark for the malevolence of the\nBritish and Tories. His beautiful mansion, on Fish Creek, with his mills\nand property, to the amount of twenty thousand dollars, was wantonly\nburned by order of Burgoyne; and his life was in constant jeopardy from\nthe hatred of his minions.\n\nOn one occasion a Tory, by the name of Wattenneyer, with a gang of\nmiscreants like himself, assaulted his house, burst in the doors, took\nthe guards\u2014who were asleep in the basement\u2014prisoners, and sought the\nperson of the General; but, by a well-managed ruse, he frightened them\ninto the belief that they were being surrounded, and they decamped,\ntaking with them a large amount of silver plate and other valuables. At\nanother period, an Indian had crept stealthily into the house, and\nconcealed himself behind the door, where he awaited an opportunity to\nstrike General Schuyler as he should pass to his chamber. A female\nservant, coming in through the hall, seeing the gleam of a blade in the\ndim light, which just enabled her to recognize the outline of a dusky\nfigure, with much presence of mind, appeared not to have made the\ndiscovery, but passed into the room where the General sat, and, while\npretending to arrange some articles upon the mantel, in a low voice\ninformed him of her discovery at the same time adding, aloud:\n\n\"I will call the guard!\"\n\nThis alarmed the secreted warrior, and, hearing the servant tread upon a\ncreaking board in another hall, and believing the household aroused, he\nfled.\n\nAfter the surrender of Burgoyne, the Tories, smarting under the\ndisappointment of that event, and more deeply incensed than ever at\nGeneral Schuyler, in whom they recognized one of the active causes of\nthe British defeat, resolved upon his destruction. To attain this\nobject, they selected two individuals, an Indian and a white man. The\nformer had been in the habit of hunting and fishing on the General's\nplace, and knew every part of the grounds, with the places in which they\nwould be most likely to meet him, in his daily perambulations. He was a\npowerfully-built and active fellow, a dangerous opponent under any\ncircumstances. The other was a weak-minded Irishman, who had received\nmany favors from the General, and was, even then, in his employ;\nnotwithstanding which, he could not resist the offered bribes, and\nconsented to imbue his hands in his benefactor's blood, for a price. On\nthe afternoon of a certain day, the two secreted themselves in a leafy\ncopse, near which the General must pass in his accustomed ride. It was\nnot long before they saw him approaching on horseback, and they proposed\nto shoot him as he passed.\n\nGeneral Schuyler had been made fully aware, by the abduction of so many\nof his friends and neighbors, who had been dragged from their homes and\ncarried off to Canada\u2014there to be retained as prisoners until\nexchanged\u2014as well as by the many attempts to get possession of his own\nperson, that he was in constant danger of being seized; but he did _not_\nimagine that his enemies would descend to the use of the assassin's\nknife, and much less did he fear that such a blow would come from those\nwhom he had befriended\u2014who had eaten of his bread and been nourished by\nhis bounty. His was one of these generous natures which, being devoid of\nguilt, loved not to suspect others. But civil war destroys all ties,\nsevers all bonds, arouses man's most vindictive passions, arraying\nfriend against friend, sometimes brother against brother. Conscience\nwill, at times, assert herself, even under such influences. She reminded\nthe Indian\u2014savage as he was, unlettered, untutored in the finer\nfeelings\u2014of the many favors he had received at the hands of the man he\nwas about to destroy; even as his eye glanced along the barrel of the\nrifle aimed at his benefactor, he repented his intention, and, with an\nimpulse which did credit to his heart, he struck up the weapon of his\ncompanion, saying:\n\n\"I cannot kill him\u2014I've eat his bread too often!\"\n\nThe General rode by, unconscious that his life hung by the slender\nthread of an Indian's conscience.\n\nOne of the saddest pages in the history of our struggle for Independence\nis that which tells of hearths and homes desecrated, which should have\nenjoyed immunity, even in times of warfare. Not only did the British\nencourage the marauding of such desperadoes as Moody and Bettys, but\ntheir more brutal Hessians seemed hired to wreak the horrors of war upon\nthe innocent dwellings of women and children.\n\nThe Rev. James Caldwell, pastor of the First Presbyterian Church in\nElizabethtown, New Jersey, acted as Chaplain of the American army while\nin New Jersey, and, by his zealous patriotism, and patriotic appeals,\noften contributed to arouse the spirits of the soldiers, and to inspire\nthem with a greater energy in the performance of their trying duties. He\nwas very popular in the community, and received the unlimited confidence\nof Washington.\n\nBut his lofty patriotism, and unflinching zeal in the American cause,\nmade him hated by the enemy, who sought every means to get him into\ntheir power, and a price was set upon his head. When preaching, he\nfrequently was compelled to lay his loaded pistols by his side in the\npulpit. At one time he resided in Springfield, but afterward removed to\n\"Connecticut Farms,\" about four miles from Elizabethtown. Here was\nenacted the first part of the tragedy we are about to relate.\n\nA company of British troops from New York, under command of the Hessian\nGeneral, Knyphausen, landed in Elizabethtown, in June of 1780, and,\nmarching directly into the interior, proceeded to wreak their cruelty\nupon every living thing that fell in their way. Houses were fired,\ncattle destroyed, helpless people murdered, or left without shelter,\nclothing or food. Mr. Caldwell heard of their approach, and immediately\nprepared to escape. He put his elder children in a wagon, and sent them\non to some of his friends for protection. He then desired his wife, with\nthe younger children, to take means of flight, but she announced her\ndetermination of remaining, as none would have cause to offer injury to\nher. Finding she would not yield to his persuasion, and believing it\nimpossible that their resentment could extend to an unprotected mother,\nwith her babe clasped to her heart, Mr. Caldwell resolved to leave them,\nand seek his own safety alone. He was mounted, and receiving the last\nassurance of her resolve to stay, when the gleam of arms announced the\napproach of the enemy, and he rode rapidly off.\n\nMrs. Caldwell, having concealed what things were of value, took her\ninfant in her arms, and retired to her chamber, the window of which\ncommanded the road. Here, with her three little ones around, she awaited\nthe approach of the enemy, feeling conscious that her unprotected state\nwould secure respect and safety. One little girl was standing by the\nwindow, watching the approach of the troops, when one of the soldiers\nleft the road, and came to the window, which he had no sooner reached\nthan he placed the muzzle of his gun against it, and deliberately fired,\nwhen Mrs. Caldwell fell suddenly back, and almost instantly expired.\n\nNot content with depriving her of life, the inhuman monsters wreaked\ntheir cruelty on her senseless body. Her clothes were nearly torn off,\nand her body removed to the roadside, where it was subjected to every\nindignity, while the torch was applied to the dwelling, and then the\nwork of destruction was done.\n\nThe effect of this terrible blow upon the husband can only be imagined.\nHe was, that morning, standing upon the heights of Springfield, and, by\nthe aid of a spy-glass, could see the smoke from the burning houses.\n\n\"Thank God,\" he exclaimed, \"the fire is not in the direction of my\nhouse.\"\n\nHe was too soon to learn the sad mistake.\n\nThe royalists attempted to throw off the responsibility of this act, by\nasserting that Mrs. Caldwell was killed by a chance shot. But all the\nevidence goes to show that it was deliberately planned, and that the\nsoldier by whose hand the bloody deed was committed, only acted in\naccordance with his orders. The fact that her body was allowed to be so\nrudely treated, while many of the officers felt their abhorrence for the\ndeed, proves that, although they felt respect for her remains, they knew\nthe will of their superiors, and therefore dared not show it.\n\nThe following anecdote, connected with this invasion, shows pretty\nclearly who were the murderers of Mrs. Caldwell. The flames from the\nburning dwelling could be seen from \"Liberty Hall,\" the residence of\nGovernor Livingston, who was, at that time, absent from home. Parties of\nsoldiers were continually passing the house, but, for some reason, it\nwas spared. But about midnight a party of soldiers, partially\nintoxicated, rushed into the house. The maid-servant\u2014all the males in\nthe establishment having taken refuge in the woods, early in the day, to\navoid being made prisoners\u2014fastened herself in the kitchen; and the\nladies\u2014Mrs. Livingston and her daughters\u2014crowded together like\nfrightened deer, locked themselves in another apartment. Their place of\nretreat was soon discovered by the ruffians; and, afraid to exasperate\nthem by refusing to come out, one of Governor Livingston's daughter's\nopened the door. A drunken soldier seized her by the arm; she grasped\nthe villain's collar, and, at the very moment, a flash of lightning\nilluminated the hall, and, falling upon her white dress, he staggered\nback, exclaiming, with an oath:\n\n\"It's Mrs. Caldwell, that we killed to-day.\"\n\nOne of the party was at length recognized, and, by his intervention, the\nhouse was finally cleared of the assailants.[2]\n\nFootnote 2:\n\n Life of Livingston.\n\nBut the vengeance of Mr. Caldwell's enemies was not yet satiated; the\ntragedy so far was incomplete. It was on the 24th of November, 1781,\nthat he himself fell beneath the ruthless murderer's hand, and the blow\nthis time came from a source where he thought himself secure. On the day\nabove mentioned, he went to Elizabethtown Point, for a Miss Murray, who\nhad come from New York, under a flag of truce. After conducting her to\nhis gig, he returned to the boat, to obtain a bundle which had been left\nbehind. As he came on shore, the American sentinel challenged him, and\ndemanded what \"contraband goods\" he had there. Mr. Caldwell stepped\nforward to tender the bundle to the proper officer, not wishing to enter\ninto a dispute about it then, when the report of a musket was heard, and\nhe fell dead, pierced by two balls. He had been shot by a man named\nMorgan, who had just been relieved from duty as a sentinel. He was\narrested, tried, condemned, and was executed. There can be no doubt but\nthat he was bribed to the deed by British gold, as there was no shadow\nof a cause to suppose that enmity existed between Mr. Caldwell and him.\n\nViewed from any point, these two murders were among the most atrocious\nacts perpetrated by the invaders of our country, and, in a history full\nof atrocities, they will always rank as bloody, fiendish and\ntreacherous.\n\n\n\n\n THE LEAP FOR LIFE.\n\n\nAt the siege of Fort Henry, near Wheeling, by a band of Indians, under\nthe infamous Simon Girty, Major Samuel McCullough performed an act of\ndaring\u2014nay, desperate horsemanship, which has seldom, if ever, been\nequalled by man or beast, and before which the effort of the Pomfret\nhero pales into insignificance. Let us turn to the record.\n\nFort Henry was situated about a quarter of a mile above Wheeling Creek,\non the left bank of the Ohio river, and was erected to protect the\nsettlers of the little village of Wheeling, which, at the time of its\ninvestment, consisted of about twenty-five cabins. In the month of\nSeptember, 1775, it was invested by about four hundred warriors, on the\napproach of whom the settlers had fled into it, leaving their cabins and\ntheir contents to the torch of the savages. The whole force comprising\nthe garrison consisted of forty-two fighting men, all told; but there\nwere among them men who knew the use of the rifle, and who were\ncelebrated throughout the borders as the implacable enemies of the\nred-man, and as the best marksmen in the world. Of these, however, more\nthan one half perished in an ill-advised sortie, before the siege\ncommenced, and, when the fort was surrounded by the foe, but sixteen men\nremained to defend it against their overwhelming numbers. But their\nmothers, wives and daughters were there, and nerved the Spartan band to\ndeeds of heroism to which the records of the wars of ancient and modern\nhistory present no parallel. Here it was that Elizabeth Zane passed\nthrough the fire of the whole body of red-skins, in the effort to bring\ninto the fort the ammunition so necessary to its defense; here it was,\nalso, that the wives and daughters of its noble defenders marched to a\nspring, in point blank range of the ambuscaded Indians, in going to and\nfro, for the purpose of bringing water for the garrison.\n\nMessengers had been dispatched at the earliest alarm to the neighboring\nsettlements for succor, and, in response to the call, Captain Van\nSwearingen, with fourteen men, arrived from Cross Creek, and fought his\nway into the fort without the loss of a man. Soon afterward, a party of\nforty horsemen, led by the brave and intrepid McCulloch, were seen\napproaching, and endeavoring to force their way through the dense masses\nof Indians, which nearly surrounded the station. Their friends within\nthe fort made every preparation to receive them, by opening the gates,\nand organizing a sortie to cover their attempt. After a desperate\nhand-to-hand conflict, in which they made several of the Indians bite\nthe dust, they broke through the lines, and entered the fort in triumph,\nwithout the loss of an individual. All except their daring leader\nsucceeded in the effort. He was cut off, and forced to fly in an\nopposite direction. McCulloch was as well known to the Indians as to the\nwhites, for his deeds of prowess, and his name was associated in their\nminds with some of the most bloody fights in which the white and red-men\nhad contended. To secure him alive, therefore, that they might glut\ntheir vengeance upon him, was the earnest desire of the Indians, and to\nthis end they put forth the most superhuman exertions. There were very\nfew among them who had not lost a relative by the unerring aim and skill\nof the fearless woodsman, and they cherished toward him an almost\nphrensied hatred, which could only be satisfied in his torture at the\nstake.\n\nWith such feelings and incentives, they crowded around him as he dashed\nforward in the rear of his men, and succeeded in cutting him off from\nthe gate. Finding himself unable to accomplish his entrance, and seeing\nthe uselessness of a conflict with such a force opposed to him, he\nsuddenly wheeled his horse, and fled in the direction of Wheeling hill,\nat his utmost speed. A cloud of warriors started up at his approach, and\ncut off his retreat in this direction, driving him back upon another\nparty who blocked up the path behind; while a third closed in upon him\non one of the other sides of the square. The fourth and open side was in\nthe direction of the brow of a precipitous ledge of rocks, nearly one\nhundred and fifty feet in height, at the foot of which flowed the waters\nof Wheeling Creek. As he momentarily halted and took a rapid survey of\nthe dangers which surrounded him on all sides, he felt that his chance\nwas a desperate one. The Indians had not fired a shot, and he well knew\nwhat this portended, as they could easily have killed him had they\nchosen to do so. He appreciated the feelings of hatred felt toward him\nby the foe, and saw at a glance the intention to take him alive, if\npossible, that his ashes might be offered up as a sacrifice to the manes\nof their departed friends, slain by his hand. This was to die a thousand\ndeaths, in preference to which he determined to run the risk of being\ndashed to pieces; and he struck his heels against the sides of his\nsteed, who sprang forward toward the precipice. The encircling warriors\nhad rapidly lessened the space between them and their intended victim,\nand, as they saw him so completely within their toils, raised a yell of\ntriumph, little dreaming of the fearful energy which was to baffle their\nexpectations. As they saw him push his horse in the direction of the\nprecipice, which they had supposed an insurmountable obstacle to his\nescape, they stood in amazement, scarcely believing that it could be his\nintention to attempt the awful leap, which was, to all appearance,\ncertain death. McCulloch still bore his rifle, which he had retained, in\nhis right hand, and, carefully gathering up the bridle in his left, he\nurged his noble animal forward, encouraging him by his voice, until they\nreached the edge of the bank, when, dashing his heels against his sides,\nthey hung, shivering on the brink of the abyss:\n\n \"For the horse, in stark despair,\n With his front hoofs poised in air,\n On the last verge rears amain.\n\n \"Now he hangs, he rocks between,\n And his nostrils curdle in;\n Now he shivers, head and hoof,\n And the flakes of foam fall off,\n And his face grows fierce and thin!\n\n \"And a look of human wo,\n From his staring eyes did go;\n And a sharp cry uttered he\n In a foretold agony\n Of the headlong death below.\"\n\nThe next moment horse and rider were in the air. Down, down they went\nwith fearful velocity, without resistance or impediment, until one-half\nof the space was passed over, when the horse's feet struck the smooth,\nprecipitous face of the rock, and the remainder of the distance was slid\nand scrambled over until they reached the bottom, _alive and uninjured_!\nWith a shout which proclaimed his triumphant success to his foes above\nhim, McCulloch pushed his steed into the stream, and in a few moments\nhorse and rider were seen surmounting the banks on the opposite side.\n\nNo pursuit was attempted, nor was a shot fired at the intrepid rider.\nHis enemies stood, in awe-struck silence, upon the brow of the bank from\nwhence he had leaped, and, as he disappeared from their view, they\nreturned to the investment of the fort. They did not long continue their\nunavailing efforts, however, for its capture; the numerous additions it\nhad received to its garrison, the fearlessness exhibited in its defense,\ntogether with the feat they had witnessed, disheartened them, and they\nbeat a hasty retreat on the morning after the event I have attempted to\ndescribe\u2014not, however, until they had reduced to ashes the cabins\nwithout the stockade, and slaughtered some three hundred head of cattle\nbelonging to the settlers.\n\nAn adventure equally marvellous, and somewhat resembling this, is\nrelated of Major Robert Rogers.\n\nAmong the most noted characters, whose exploits upon the frontier a\ncentury since were the theme and admiration of every tongue, the leader\nof the celebrated \"Rogers' Rangers\" stands pre-eminent. He was a man\ntall, vigorous, and lithe as the panther of the forest, with an eye that\nnever quailed before the gaze of any human being. A perfect master of\nthe art of woodcraft, he was resolute and fearless, and yet so cautious\nat times as to incur a suspicion of cowardice; but, although his name is\ntarnished by treachery to his own native state and country, the\nimpartial observer of his life and actions cannot fail to award him the\nmost unflinching courage and bravery.\n\nRobert Roberts was born in New Hampshire, and, about the year 1760, was\nthe leader of a body of provincial rangers, known by his own name. Among\nhis associates was Israel Putnam, whose most daring exploits were\nperformed while engaged with him in his forest warfare.\n\nThe date which brought Rogers into notice was that in which the great\nrival nations, France and England, were striving for the possession of\nthe American continent. The rivalry had been going on for years, and, as\nmight be expected, the Indians had been brought into the contest. These,\nalmost invariably, were upon the side of the French; but it availed\nnothing in the end. The steady, indomitable, persevering spirit of the\nEnglish settler could be stayed by no obstacle, and France saw that\nslowly and surely the red cross was supplanting her own _fleur de lis_\nin the depths of the American forest.\n\nRogers' principal theater of action was that wild, mountainous region\nround Lake George, \"the dark and bloody ground\" intervening between the\nhostile forts of Crown Point and Ticonderoga. Here, in these gloomy\nsolitudes, his resolute spirit encountered the jealous French, with\ntheir wily Indian allies, and here some of the most sanguinary conflicts\nand desperate encounters of the war occurred. More than once did the\nlonely hunter encounter this band threading their way through the woods\nas silent and as cautious as the savage himself; in summer they glided\nacross and around the lake in their canoes, building their camp-fires in\nthe wildest gorges of that romantic country; and in winter they skirted\nit on snow-shoes, or shot from one portion to another on skates. Their\ndaring soon made their name famous through every civilized portion of\nthe country. If a French messenger left Ticonderoga, he was almost\ncertain to fall into the hands of Rogers, and any scouting party that\nventured forth was sure to get a taste of the mettle of these fellows\nbefore they returned. But for the subsequent course of Rogers, he might\nbe not unaptly termed the _Marion of the frontier_.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n The Leap for Life.\u2014_Page_ 46.\n]\n\nIt was sometimes the custom of Rogers to leave his men in camp, and\nventure into the forest unaccompanied by any one. At such times he often\nwandered a dozen miles away, easily making his way back through the\ntrackless forest at night again. It was on one of these occasions that\nhe met with the following adventure.\n\nIt was in the dead of winter, and his men, as usual, were on snow-shoes.\nThey encamped at night in a deep hollow along the lake, and the next\nmorning Rogers left them, with instructions to remain in their present\nquarters until his return.\n\nHe took a direction toward Ticonderoga, and, about the middle of the\nday, reached a point near the northern end of the lake. During this\njourney, it is hardly necessary to say that he was on the alert for his\nenemies. He knew they lurked in every part of the forest, and that the\nscalp of no white man would afford half the rejoicing that his would. Up\nto this point, however, his experienced eye had failed to detect the\nfirst signs of their presence.\n\nHe was contemplating the scene around, carefully taking in all its\nparts, when he heard the breaking of the snow-crust behind him. Turning\nhis head, he discovered, in one instant, that he had walked directly\ninto a trap. On one side was the steep, precipitous side of the\nmountain, descending down to the lake; while on the other, radiating\noutward, so as to cut off all escape, he saw nearly thirty Indians\nrapidly shuffling toward him on their snow-shoes, yelling with delight\nand exultation at the prospect of his certain capture.\n\nThey had probably followed him for miles, in the hope of taking him\nalive, and he had thus given them a better opportunity than even they\ndared hope for.\n\nRogers comprehended his imminent danger, but he stood a moment as quiet\nand self-possessed as if they were his own men approaching. It took\nscarcely a second for him to understand his situation. He saw it was\nimpossible to elude the Indians by undertaking to _dodge through\nthem_\u2014that is, by running toward them; they were too many, and the space\nafforded was too small.\n\n\"Howsumever, here's my compliments,\" said Rogers, raising his rifle and\nshooting the leader of the party, \"and you haven't got my top-knot yet.\"\n\nWith this, he threw his rifle from him, and started off at the top his\nspeed, the pack pursuing with yells and shouts. Rogers was very fleet of\nfoot, and for a short distance he gained ground upon his pursuers. It\nwas not exactly running, as a man on snow-shoes can not properly be said\nto do that. The motion is entirely different, the feet not being lifted,\nbut shoved forward with all rapidity possible. As Rogers expressed it,\nhe did some \"tall sliding\" on that occasion, the truth of which will\nsoon be apparent.\n\nAt the moment of starting he had no well-defined idea of what he should\ndo; but after going a few rods, he formed the determination that, before\nfalling into the hands of the Indians, he would _go over the mountain_!\nThose who have seen the mountain, near the northern end of Lake George,\nknown as \"Roger's slide\" (the name of which is derived from the\ncircumstance here given), will understand the appalling nature of such\nan exploit as Rogers contemplated. Any sane man would consider it\ndownright suicide. We know not the exact distance of this descent, but\nare certain that it is more than _one thousand feet_ to the edge of the\nlake, and the entire distance a sheer precipice.\n\nBut Rogers did not hesitate; there was no time for hesitation. His\nmortal enemies were behind and approaching. He reached the edge of the\nmountain. He saw the white, field-like surface of Lake George far below\nhim, and the long, glistening snowy descent stretching down, down, down,\ntill the brain grew dizzy with looking. He appeared but a mere speck on\nthe summit, viewed from below, so great was his height. He gave one\nglance behind him, sprang high in the air, so as to give his body a\nmomentum at starting, and squatting on his snow-shoes, down he went.\n\nOh, the ecstacy of that ride! Nothing on earth could equal it. Rogers\nhas said that the most thrilling moment of his life was the one occupied\nin that fearful descent. As his body gathered motion, a feeling similar\nto that produced by electricity passed through him, and for the space of\nfive minutes he was in reality insane. Downward he shot like a meteor,\nhis passage through the still air making it seem like a hurricane, and\nthe fine, sand-like particles of snow making him appear as if shrouded\nin mist to the amazed Indians above. Rogers scarcely breathed. He saw\nnothing, felt nothing but a wild ecstacy, and knew nothing, until he\nawoke, as it were, and found himself gliding far out on the surface of\nthe lake, carried forward by the irresistible impulse he had gained in\nhis descent.\n\nThen he arose and looked about him. His snow-shoes were worn out by the\nfriction, and taking them off, he cast them from him. The Indians still\nstood at the top of the mountain; but on beholding his exploit, they\nbelieved him under the protection of the Great Spirit, and did not\nattempt to continue the chase. Rogers made his way back to his company,\nreaching them late at night, and none the worse for his adventure,\nexcept in the loss of his snow-shoes and his rifle.\n\nThere are many other incidents connected with Rogers' career, but the\none given will suffice to show the intrepid spirit that ever\ncharacterized him.\n\nAs if to prove that, brave as the pioneers were, they had their peers\namid the \"red-skins,\" we find the record of a leap, almost as marvelous\nas that of McCullough, performed by Weatherford, the celebrated\nhalf-breed, who gave Jackson trouble in his efforts to rid the southern\ncountry of the Indians.\n\nIt was on the 29th of December, 1813, that the Mississippi volunteers\nattacked the Indians, under circumstances of almost unparalleled\ndifficulty, after enduring incredible hardships. Without tents or\nblankets, without proper clothing, more than half starved, some of them\nwithout shoes, in inclement weather, this heroic band had marched over\none hundred miles through a pathless forest, to meet and subdue the wary\nfoe. And now, on this 29th of December, says General Samuel Dale, who\nwas one of the party, \"the weather was very wet and bitter cold; we had\nneither meat, coffee, nor spirits.\" The savages were fortified in a\nstrong defensive position, a town which they called their holy city, and\nwhich their prophets declared was invulnerable to the whites\u2014that the\nground would open and swallow them up, should they venture to set foot\non it. Nevertheless, the gaunt volunteers, worn with their sufferings,\ngave such fierce battle to the confident Indians, that they drove them\nout of their holy city of refuge, and Weatherford, one of their most\ntrusted leaders, barely escaped destruction. He was mounted on a\npowerful charger, and being hotly pursued by a band of whites, who knew\nhim well, and were eager to secure the prize, he urged his horse to its\nutmost speed. Soon a ravine, at least twenty feet wide, and of great\ndepth, yawned before him; the very barrier of nature which he had relied\non as a protection in case of assault from enemies, now rose before him,\nto threaten his own life. But he only drew the rein a little tighter,\nspoke a low word to his favorite steed, and over the horrible ravine\nflew the obedient animal, as if love and fear had given it wings\u2014over\nthe gaping ruin, and down the bluff into the Alabama. The gallant\ncourser swam the river scornfully, his chief holding his rifle excitedly\nover his head, and shouting his war-whoop exultingly, as he ascended the\nopposite bank.\n\nThis renowned leader was born at the Hickory Ground, in the Creek\nnation; his father, Charles Weatherford, was a Georgian; his mother, the\nbeautiful Schoya, was half-sister of the famous Creek chieftain, General\nMcGilivray. William Weatherford had not the education of his\ngrandfather, but nature had endowed him with a noble person, a brilliant\nintellect, and commanding eloquence. He was, in every respect, the peer\nof Tecumseh.\n\nAnd now that we have mentioned the name of General Dale, we can not\nforbear giving, in his own words, an account of one of his\ncharacteristic adventures. His life was full of such. He calls it his\ncanoe fight:\n\n\"After this rencounter, I put thirty of my men on the east bank, where\nthe path ran directly by the river side. With twenty men I kept the\nwestern bank, and thus we proceeded to Randon's Landing. A dozen fires\nwere burning, and numerous scaffolds for drying meat denoted a large\nbody of Indians; but none were visible. About half past ten, A. M., we\ndiscovered a large canoe coming down stream. It contained eleven\nwarriors. Observing that they were about to land at a cane-brake just\nabove us, I called to my men to follow, and dashed for the brake with\nall my might. Only seven of my men kept up with me. As the Indians were\nin the act of landing, we fired. Two leaped into the water. Jim Smith\nshot one as he rose, and I shot the other. In the meantime, they had\nbacked into deep water, and three Indians were swimming on the off side\nof the canoe, which was thirty odd feet long, four feet deep, and three\nfeet beam, made of an immense cypress-tree, especially for the\ntransportation of corn. One of the warriors shouted to Weatherford (who\nwas in the vicinity, as it afterward appeared, but invisible to us):\n'Yos-ta-hah! yos-ta-hah!' ('They are spoiling us.') This fellow was in\nthe water, his hands on the gunwale of the pirogue, and as often as he\nrose to shout, we fired, but didn't make out to hit him. He suddenly\nshowed himself breast-high, whooping in derision, and said: 'Why don't\nyou shoot?' I drew my sight just between his hands, and as he rose again\nI lodged a bullet in his brains. Their canoe then floated down with the\ncurrent. I ordered my men on the east bank to fetch the boats. Six of\nthem jumped into a canoe, and paddled to the Indians, when one of them\ncried out: 'Live Injins! Back water, boys, back water!' and the\nfrightened fellows paddled back faster than they came. I next ordered\nC\u00e6sar, a free negro, to bring a boat. Seeing him hesitate, I swore I\nwould shoot him as soon as I got across. He crossed a hundred yards\nbelow the Indians, and Jim Smith, Jerry Anstill, and myself, got in. I\nmade C\u00e6sar paddle within forty paces, when all three of us leveled our\nguns, and all three missed fire! As the two boats approached, one of the\nred-skins hurled a scalping-knife at me. It pierced the boat through and\nthrough, just grazing my thigh as it passed. The next minute the canoes\ncame in contact. I leaped up, placing one of my feet in each boat. At\nthe same instant, the foremost warrior leveled his rifle at my breast.\nIt flashed in the pan. As quick as lightning, he clubbed it, and aimed\nat me a furious blow, which I partially parried, and, before he could\nrepeat it, I shivered his skull with my gun. In the meantime an Indian\nhad struck down Jerry, and was about to dispatch him, when I broke my\nrifle over his head. It parted in two pieces. The barrel Jerry seized,\nand renewed the fight. The stock I hurled at one of the savages. Being\nthen disarmed, C\u00e6sar handed me his musket and bayonet. Finding myself\nunable to keep the two canoes in juxtaposition, I resolved to bring\nmatters to an issue, and leaped into the Indian boat. My pirogue, with\nJerry, Jim and C\u00e6sar, floated off. Jim fired, slightly wounding the\nsavage nearest me. _I now stood in the center of their canoe, two dead\nat my feet, a wounded savage in the stern, who had been snapping his\npiece at me, during the fight, and four powerful warriors in front._ The\nfirst one directed a furious blow at me with a rifle; it glanced upon\nthe barrel of my musket, and I staved the bayonet through his body. As\nhe fell, the next one repeated the attack. A shot from Jerry Anstill\npierced his heart. Striding over them, the next sprang at me with his\ntomahawk. I killed him with my bayonet, and his corpse lay between me\nand the last of the party. I knew him well\u2014Tas-cha-chee, a noted\nwrestler, and the most famous ball-player of his clan. He paused a\nmoment, in expectation of my attack, but, finding me motionless, he\nstepped backward to the bow of the canoe, shook himself, gave the\nwar-whoop of his tribe, and cried out: '_Samtholocco, Iana dahmaska,\nia-lanesthe, lipso, lipso, lanestha!_' ('Big Sam, I am a man! I am\ncoming! come on!') As he said this, with a terrific yell, he bounded\nover the dead body of his comrade, and directed a blow at my head with\nhis rifle which dislocated my shoulder. I dashed the bayonet into him.\nIt glanced around his ribs, and hitching into his backbone, I pressed\nhim down. As I pulled the weapon out, he put his hands upon the sides of\nthe boat, and endeavored to rise, crying out: '_Tas-cha-chee is a man.\nHe is not afraid to die._.' I drove my bayonet through his heart. I then\nturned to the wounded villain in the stern, who snapped his rifle at me,\nas I advanced, as he had been snapping it during the whole conflict. He\ngave the war-whoop, and in tones of hatred and defiance, exclaimed: '_I\nam a warrior\u2014I am not afraid to die!_' As he uttered these words, I\npinned him down with my weapon, and he followed his eleven comrades to\nthe land of spirits. During this conflict, which was over in ten\nminutes, my brave companions, Smith and Anstill, had been straggling\nwith the current of the Alabama, endeavoring to reach me. Their guns had\nbecome useless, and their only paddle was broken. Two braver fellows\nnever lived. Anstill's first shot saved my life. By this time my men\ncame running down the bank, shouting that Weatherford was coming. With\nour three canoes we crossed them all over, and reached the fort in\nsafety.\"\n\nThis fight occurred November 13, 1813, at Randon's Landing, Monroe\nCounty, ten miles below Weatherford's Bluff.\n\nIf any one thinks this a Munchausen account, given by Dale, of his\nrencounter, he can satisfy himself of its exact truth, by reference to\nthe records, all the circumstances of this memorable fight having been\nverified before the Alabama Legislature.\n\nOne of the leading spirits in those stirring days was Mrs. Catherine\nSevier, wife of one of the most distinguished pioneers. Her maiden name\nwas Sherrill, and her family, as well as that of her future husband,\nemigrated from North Carolina and Virginia to what is now East\nTennessee, settling first upon Watauga river. Mr. Sherrill's residence\nwas finally upon the Nola Chucka. He was a tiller of the soil, a\nhard-working man, and \"well-to-do in the world;\" but he was also skilled\nin the use of the rifle, so that it was said, \"Sherrill can make as much\nout of the ground and out of the woods as any other man. He has a hand\nand eye to his work\u2014a hand, an eye, and an ear, for the Indian and the\ngame.\"\n\nBuffalo, deer, and wild turkeys came around the cabins of those first\nsettlers. A providence was in this which some of them recognized with\nthankfulness.\n\nJacob Brown, with his family and friends, arrived from North Carolina\nabout the same time with the Sherrills, and these two families became\nconnected by intermarriage with the Seviers, and ever remained faithful\nto each other through all the hostile and civil commotions of subsequent\nyears. The Seviers were among the very earliest emigrants from Virginia,\naiding in the erection of the first fort on the Watauga.\n\nWith few exceptions, these emigrants had in view the acquisition of rich\nlands for cultivation and inheritance. Some, indeed, were there, or\ncame, who were absconding debtors, or refugees from justice, and from\nthis class were the Tories of North Carolina mostly enlisted.\n\nThe spirit of the hunter and pioneer cannot well content itself in a\npermanent location, especially when the crack of a neighbor's rifle, or\nthe blast of his hunting-horn can be heard by his quick ear; therefore\ndid these advanced guards frequently change their homes when others\n_crowded_ them, at _miles distance_. It must be remembered that their\nadvance into the wilderness could only be made by degrees, step by step,\nthrough years of tedious waiting and toilsome preparation. And thus,\nthough they had a lease of the land for eight years from the Cherokees,\na foothold in the soil, stations of defense, and evidently had taken a\nbond of fate, assuring them in the prospect of rich inheritances for\ntheir children, they could not all abide while the great West and\ngreater Future invited onward. Richer lands, larger herds of buffaloes,\nmore deer, and withal so many Indians were in the distance, upon the\nCumberland and Kentucky rivers. The emigrants advanced, and they took no\nsteps backward. In a few years they were found organizing \"provisional\ngovernments\" in Kentucky, and at the Bluffs, the site of the beautiful\ncapital of Tennessee. These Watauga and Nola Chucka pioneers were\nleading spirits throughout.\n\nIn the first Cherokee war of 1776, the early settlements were in great\ndanger of being destroyed. The prowling savages plucked off the settlers\nin detail, and, though somewhat successful in these aims, they resolved\nto attack the settlements and stations at different points on the same\nday\u2014in June, 1776. But they were so defeated in the battles of Long\nIsland, and at the Island Flats, on the Holston, and in their attack and\nsiege of the Watauga Fort, that a happy chance was wrought, and hopes of\nquiet were encouraged.\n\nThe attack on the latter station was conducted by an experienced Indian\nchief, Old Abraham, of the Chilowee Mountain region. This was a fierce\nattack, but the fort fortunately held within it two of the most resolute\nmen who ever touched the soil of Tennessee\u2014James Robertson and John\nSevier\u2014they having then no higher title than Captains. Some thirty men\nwere under their command or direction.\n\nThe approach of the Indians was stealthy, and the first alarm was given\nby the flight and screams of some females, who were closely pursued by\nthe Indians in large force. One of the women was killed, and one or two\ncaptured. In this party of females was Miss Catherine Sherrill, daughter\nof Samuel Sherrill, who had moved into the fort only on the previous\nday.\n\nMiss Sherrill was already somewhat distinguished for nerve, fleetness of\nfoot, and decision of character. Although at other times she proved\nherself to \"know no fear,\" and could remain unmoved when danger\nthreatened, yet on this occasion she admits that she did run, and \"run\nher best.\" She was very tall and erect, her whole appearance such as to\nattract the especial notice of the savages, who pursued her with\neagerness; and, as they intercepted the direct path to the gate of the\nfort, she made a circuit to reach its inclosures on another side,\nresolved, as she said, to \"scale the palisades.\" In this effort, some\none within the defenses attempted to aid, but his foot slipped, or the\nobject on which he was standing gave way, and both fell to the ground on\nopposite sides of the wall. The Indians were coming with all speed,\nfiring and shooting arrows repeatedly. \"Indeed,\" she said, \"the bullets\nand arrows came like hail. It was now leap the palisades or die, for I\nwould not live a captive.\" She recovered from the fall, and in a moment\nwas over and within the defenses, and \"by the side of one _in uniform_.\"\n\nThis was none other than Captain John Sevier, and this the first time\nshe ever saw him\u2014the beginning of an acquaintance destined in a few\nyears to ripen into a happy union which endured for nearly forty years.\n\"The manner in which she ran and jumped on that occasion was often the\nsubject of remark, commendation and laughter.\"\n\nIn after life she looked upon this _introduction_, and the manner of it,\nas a providential indication of their adaptation to each other\u2014that they\nwere destined to be of mutual help in future dangers, and to overcome\nobstacles requiring the peculiar strength of both. And she always deemed\nherself safe when by his side. Many a time she said:\n\n\"I could gladly undergo that peril and effort again, to fall into his\narms, and feel so _out of danger_. But then,\" she would add, \"it was all\nof God's good providence.\"\n\nCaptain Sevier was then a married man, his wife and younger children not\nhaving yet arrived from Virginia.\n\nIn 1777, Captain Sevier received a commission from the State of North\nCarolina, and was thus decidedly enlisted in the cause of American\nIndependence; not long after this he was honored with the commission of\nColonel, bearing the signature of George Washington. Two years later,\nhis wife died, leaving him ten children. The following year he married\nMiss Sherrill, who devoted herself earnestly to all the duties of her\nstation, and to meet the exigencies of the times.\n\nIt may well be supposed that the women spun, wove and made up the most\nof the clothing worn by these backwoods people. Girls were as well\nskilled in these arts, as were the boys to those belonging to their\ncircle of duties. It was always a source of much gratification to Mrs.\nSevier, and one of which she fondly boasted, that, \"among the first work\nshe did, after her marriage, was to make the clothes which her husband\nand his three sons wore the day they were in the memorable and important\nbattle of King's Mountain.\" And she would remark: \"Had his ten children\nbeen sons, and large enough to serve in that expedition, I could have\nfitted them out.\"\n\nMrs. Sevier was often left alone to manage domestic affairs, not only\nwithin doors, but without. The life of Colonel Sevier was one of\nincessant action, adventure and contest. The calls of his\nfellow-citizens, and the necessities of the times, withdrew him\nfrequently from home. No commander was more frequently engaged in\nconflicts with the Indians, with equal success and such small loss of\nmen. Yet it is a notable fact that he enjoyed, to a remarkable extent,\nthe respect of the tribes and chiefs with whom he contended. It is an\nhistorical fact that he took to his own home, on the Chucka, a number of\nIndian prisoners, where they were treated with so much kindness by his\nwife and family, that several of them remained for years, although they\nperformed very little work, and this wholly at their own option. The\ninfluence of Mrs. Sevier was intentionally and happily exerted upon\nthese captives, that it might tell, as it did, upon their friends within\nthe nation; and the family, no doubt, enjoyed more immunities than\notherwise they could have expected.\n\nThe Colonel acquired a sobriquet among the Indians, which was some\nevidence of their familiarity with, and attachment to him. As long as he\nlived they called him \"Chucka Jack.\" They had one, also, for Mrs.\nSevier, but it has not been preserved. She usually remained at the farm,\nand never would consent to be shut up in a block-house, always saying:\n\n \"The wife of John Sevier\n Knows no fear.\"\n\n\"Who would stay out if his family _forted_?\"\n\nThis was the spirit of the heroine\u2014this was the spirit of Catherine\nSevier. Neither she nor her husband seemed to think there could be\ndanger or loss when they could encourage or aid others to daring, to\nduty and to usefulness. Colonel Sevier at one time advised her to go\ninto the fort, but yielded to her respectful remonstrance. At one time\nthe Tories, who were worse and more troublesome enemies than the\nsavages, came to her house, and demanded her husband's whereabouts,\nfinally avowing their intention was to hang him on the highest tree in\nfront of his house, but that if she would tell them where he was, she\nand her children should be safe. Of course she refused to give the\ninformation. One man drew a pistol, threatening to blow her brains out\nif she did not tell, or, at least, give up all the money she had.\n\n\"Shoot, shoot!\" was her answer; \"I am not afraid to die! But remember,\nwhile there is a Sevier on the face of the earth, my blood will not be\nunavenged!\"\n\nHe dared not\u2014did not shoot. The leader of the gang told the man to put\nup his pistol, for \"such a woman was too brave to die.\"\n\nWould it not be a good thing to make the study of the biography of such\nheroines as Mrs. Sevier a part of the \"course\" in the accomplishment of\nthe fastidious young ladies of to-day?\n\nA peculiar incident is connected with the formidable attack upon\nBryant's station, Kentucky, made by six hundred savage warriors, headed\nby the infamous renegade, Simon Girty. Having been forewarned of the\ncontemplated attack, the garrison was already under arms when Girty and\nhis savage band appeared. Supposing, by the preparations made to receive\nthem, that their actual presence in the vicinity was known, a\nconsiderable body of Indians were placed in ambush near the spring,\nwhich was at some distance from the fort, while another and smaller body\nwas ordered to take position in full view of the garrison, with the hope\nof tempting them to an engagement outside the walls. Had this stratagem\nbeen successful, the remainder of the forces was so posted as to be\nable, upon the withdrawal of the garrison, to storm one of the gates,\nand cut off their retreat to the fort. Unconscious of the snare which\nhad been laid for them, and unaware of the full strength of the enemy,\nthe garrison were about to sally out, having already opened one of the\ngates for this purpose, when they became alarmed by a sudden firing from\nan opposite direction, and hastily falling back, they closed and secured\nthe gates.\n\nOne difficulty they had, however, to encounter\u2014the want of water. It was\nan oppressive day in the middle of August, and the want was soon\naggravated to an intolerable degree by the heat and thirst consequent\nupon their exertions. To perish by thirst was as cruel as to die by the\nrifle and tomahawk. Under these circumstances, a plan was proposed,\ncalculated to try the heroism of the women within the fort. Acting on\nthe belief that, although there might be an ambush at the spring, yet\nthe Indians, in desiring to effect the capture of the fort by stratagem,\nwould not unmask themselves to the women, these were urged to go in a\nbody to the spring, and each of them bring up a bucket full of water.\n\nThey would hardly have been human had they not quailed a little at this\ndaring proposition; but, upon listening to the arguments of the men, a\nfew of the boldest declared their readiness to brave the danger, and the\nyounger and more timid, rallying in the rear of the elderly matrons,\nthey all marched down to the spring, a valiant company, each dipping her\nbucket, within point blank shot of five hundred Indian warriors. Not a\nshot was fired. They filled their buckets with the precious water, and\nregained the shelter of the fort in safety. How their blood must have\nturned cold, as they reached the dangerous spring, and how it must have\nthrilled and tingled in their veins, as they turned their backs to the\nconcealed enemy, unarmed and perfectly helpless as they were! How long\nthe distance to the gate! How sweet the relief when their buckets of\ncrystal comfort were set down within the enclosure!\n\nHad this thing occurred in the days of the old Roman glory, it would\nhave won immortality for the maids and mothers who participated in it.\n\nWhen General Greene was retreating from the Catawaba, an incident\noccurred which indicates the self-sacrificing spirit of the American\nwomen. On the line of his retreat he stopped at a house for repose and\nrefreshment. He had ridden all day in a severe rain storm; he was wet,\nfatigued, and he was oppressed by gloomy forebodings. His landlady\nobserved his despondency, and, upon asking him about his condition, he\nreplied that he was tired, hungry and penniless. Refreshments were\nprovided for him, and, after he had partaken of them, the woman drew him\ninto a private apartment, where she placed in his hands two bags of\nspecie, saying:\n\n\"Take these; I can do without them, and they are necessary to you.\"\n\nLet us imagine that this noble act cheered the saddened heart of the\nGeneral in the hour of his trouble.\n\nIn one district, during the war, the young women, at harvest-time,\nformed themselves into a company of reapers, going to all the farms of\nthe neighborhood, and, if the reply to the question \"Is the owner out\nwith the fighting men?\" was in the affirmative, they would set to, and\ncut and garner all the grain. It was no small undertaking, as five or\nsix weeks of unceasing toil were necessary to complete their rounds.\nSimilar companies were formed in New York and Long Island. A Whig paper\nof July 25th, 1776, says:\n\n\"The most respectable ladies set the example, and say they will take the\nfarming business on themselves, so long as the rights and liberties of\ntheir country require the presence of their sons, husbands and lovers,\nin the field.\"\n\nPride in such ancestors is an ennobling sentiment.\n\nDuring the siege of Augusta, two ladies, Grace and Rachel Martin,\nresiding in the ninety-sixth district, South Carolina, learning, upon\none occasion, that a courier, under the protection of two British\nsoldiers, was to pass their residence, bearing important dispatches,\nresolved, by a well-planned stratagem, to surprise the party, and\ndeprive the courier of the papers. Disguising themselves in male attire,\nand provided with arms, they concealed themselves in a thicket on the\nroadside, and patiently awaited the approach of the enemy. It was\ntwilight, and the darkness favored their plan. They had not remained\nlong in their concealment, when the courier and the escort made their\nappearance. They were riding carelessly along, when suddenly two figures\nsprang from a bushy covert, loudly demanding the dispatches, and at the\nsame time presenting their pistols. Bewildered and alarmed, the\nsurprised party yielded, without attempting resistance.\n\nThe ladies then placed them on parole, and, hastening home through a\nshort route by the woods, had hardly arrived there, and divested\nthemselves of their male attire, when the same trio came riding up to\nthe door, requesting accommodations. The mother of the heroines admitted\nthem, asking why they had returned, after passing her house but a short\ntime before. They replied by exhibiting their paroles, and stating that\nthey had been taken prisoners by \"two rebels.\" The young ladies,\nunsuspected by their guests, rallied them on their unfortunate\nadventure, asking \"why they did not use their arms?\" to which they\nreplied that they were fallen upon so sudden, they had not time. During\ntheir stay, they were as severely overcome by the malicious wit and\nraillery of the ladies, as they had before been by their superior\nbravery and cunning. The dispatches obtained in the heroic manner\ndescribed, were sent to General Greene, and proved of importance.\n\nThese ladies should have had the rank of \"Sergeant,\" at least, conferred\nupon them, in acknowledgment of their bravery, wit, and the good service\nrendered!\n\nIn the commencement of the American Revolution, when one of the British\nking's thundering proclamations made its appearance, the subject was\nmentioned in a company in Philadelphia; a member of Congress, who was\npresent, turning to Miss Livingstone, said:\n\n\"Well, Miss, are you greatly terrified at the roaring of the British\nlion?\"\n\n\"Not at all, sir, for I have learned from natural history that _that\nbeast roars loudest when he is most frightened_!\" was her quiet reply.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n The Chieftain's Appeal.\u2014_Page_ 9.\n]\n\n\n\n\n TALES,\n\n TRADITIONS AND ROMANCE\n\n OF\n\n BORDER AND REVOLUTIONARY TIMES.\n\n THE CHIEFTAIN S APPEAL.\n THE IMPLACABLE GOVERNOR.\n Mrs. SLOCUMB AT MOORE'S CREEK.\n BRADY'S LEAP.\n\n NEW YORK:\n BEADLE AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS,\n 118 WILLIAM STREET.\n\n\n\n\n Entered according to Act of Congress, in the Year 1864,\n by BEADLE AND COMPANY, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of\n the United\n States for the Southern District of New York.\n\n\n\n\n THE\n CHIEFTAIN'S APPEAL.\n\n\nSullivan's campaign into the Indian country, in the fall of 1779,\nrealized none of the anticipations regarding it; for, although the\nseverity of the ensuing winter, and the privations they suffered from\nthe destruction of their homes and their crops, kept the Indians from\nmaking any predatory excursions upon the settlements, yet, on the\nopening of spring, they swept over the country in clouds, burning with\nrevenge, and breathing vengeance against the pale-faces.\n\nEarly in April, a party of forty or fifty Indians and Tories, under the\ncommand of Captain Brandt, the Mohawk chief, made an incursion against\nHarpersfield, which they surprised and destroyed. Most of the\ninhabitants, however, had, owing to their exposed situation, left the\nplace, and nineteen prisoners and a small amount of plunder was all that\ngraced their triumph. On his way from Niagara, Brandt had detached a\nparty of eleven Indians, under a young chief called Cheyendowah, to\nattack the settlement at Minisink, and bring in some prisoners. This was\nsuccessfully accomplished, and five of its male inhabitants were led\ncaptive into the wilderness, as far as Tioga Point. Here, however, they\nrose upon their captors while asleep, and in a few moments nine of them\nlay in the agonies of death, while the other two fled, one being\nmortally wounded. At the time that Harpersfield was destroyed, a party\nof fourteen militiamen, under command of Captain Alexander Harper, were\nin the woods making maple-sugar for the garrison at Old Schoharie. Not\ndreaming of the proximity of an enemy, they were attacked by the party\nunder Brandt, and two of their number shot down before they could seize\ntheir arms; and when they attempted to reach them, they found themselves\ncompletely cut off and surrounded. Nothing remained, therefore, but to\nsurrender. The Tories composing a part of Brandt's party, were opposed\nto taking prisoners, and wished to kill them at once, that they might\nnot be an incumbrance at the attack of the Schoharie Fort, which was one\nobject of the expedition. A frightful massacre would have ensued,\nwithout doubt, had not Brandt's forethought prevented it. He had raised\nhis tomahawk to strike Captain Harper, which would have been the signal\nfor the death of the others, when, thinking he might get valuable\ninformation from him, he lowered his weapon, and, looking the other\nsternly in the eye, he asked: \"How many regular troops are there in the\nfort?\" Harper saw the object of the chief, and, without any hesitation\nor prevarication, told him that three hundred Continentals had arrived\nbut a few days before to garrison the forts. This was not true, but the\nmanner in which Harper told it imposed upon the chief, who, by the way,\nhad been a schoolmate of his, and, although the circumstance\ndisconcerted his plans, yet he was induced to believe him. One of\nHarper's men, fearing that the Indians would put them all to death if\nthey should discover the fraud, informed the chief of the true state of\nthe case; but he, thinking it a ruse to lead him into danger, and thus\nfacilitate the escape of the prisoners, put no faith in his story, but,\non the contrary, was the more convinced of Harper's truthfulness. A\nconference was held between Brandt and his subordinate chiefs in regard\nto the disposal of the prisoners. The former was in favor of taking them\nto Niagara, but the latter, disappointed at the failure of the main part\nof their enterprise, and thirsting for blood, were for massacring them\nat once. During the controversy, the prisoners, bound hand and foot,\nwere thrust into a pen of logs, where they were kept under guard of the\nTories and their leader, an infamous wretch by the name of Becraft. The\npen was near enough to the council to hear what was going on, and Harper\nunderstood enough of the Indian language to catch the import of their\n\"talk.\" Becraft took pains, too, to inform them of the wishes of the\nmajority of the Indians, and in abusive language told them that they\nwould \"all be in hell before morning.\" The influence of Brandt\u2014at all\ntimes powerful\u2014enabled him to prevent bloodshed, and the others were\ninduced to forego their bloodthirsty desires, for the present, at least.\nIn the morning, Harper was again brought before the chief and\ninterrogated. With great presence of mind he reasserted his story, and,\nalthough the other eyed him with the most searching gaze, he betrayed no\nevidence of indecision; and at length the chief, convinced, apparently,\nof the truth, gave the order to commence their march for Niagara. The\nprisoners were not allowed to reach their destination, without passing\nthrough fearful ordeals. One day they stopped at a mill kept by a Tory,\nwho, with both of his daughters, counseled Brandt to destroy \"the\ninfernal Whigs.\" This coinciding with the desires of the Tories and a\nmajority of the Indians, the chief found it difficult to restrain them,\nand prevent the sacrifice. On another occasion they met a loyalist, who\nwas well acquainted with Brandt and Harper, who told the former that he\nhad been deceived\u2014that there were no troops at Schoharie. This led to\nanother searching inquiry, but Harper persisted in his story with so\nmuch apparent candor as again to elude detection. But when the party\nreached the Chemung River, they had to pass a still more fearful trial.\nOn reaching this point, Brandt and his warriors raised a whoop, as is\ncustomary with the Indians when they have prisoners\u2014it was answered by a\nsingle _death yell_! In a few moments a single Indian made his\nappearance, who proved to be the young chief Cheyendowah. His story was\nsoon told. Of the eleven who started for the Minisink settlement, he\nalone was left so tell the tale of their massacre at the hands of their\nprisoners. The others had gathered about him, excited listeners to the\nmelancholy narrative, and the effect of the recital upon these already\nimplacable warriors was fearful in the extreme. \"Revenge!\" seemed to\nleap from every tongue, and their faces were wrought into an expression\nof the fiercest determination to immolate the unhappy prisoners on the\nspot. Every hand sought a weapon simultaneously, and the glittering\ntomahawk and keener scalping-knife leaped into the air, while their eyes\nglared ferociously upon Harper and his companions, who, conscious that\ntheir fate was inevitable, awaited it with what composure they could\ncommand. With one accord, the savages rushed in a tumultuous throng,\nwith uplifted weapons, upon their victims. Brandt had no power to\ncontrol the storm, and did not attempt it. As well might he attempt to\nstay the whirlwind in its fury, or beat back the mountain torrent in its\ncourse; the doom of the white men was apparently sealed, It was to the\nmagnanimity of one from whom they could least anticipate such\nforbearance, that they were indebted for their lives. Rushing between\nthe infuriated warriors and their anticipated prey, the young chief\nCheyendowah waved back the crowd with an imperious gesture which\ncommanded attention. When silence was restored, he surprised his\nauditors by an urgent appeal in behalf of the prisoners. \"It was not\nthey,\" he said, \"who had killed their brethren, and to take the lives of\ninnocent men would not punish the guilty. The Great Spirit would be\nangry with them if they should do this wicked thing.\" Pointing upward,\nin words of majestic eloquence, he told them that \"Manitou was looking\nupon them, and would send his thunders to destroy their families, their\nhomes, and themselves, if they sacrificed the white men in their\nvengeance.\" He told them it was cowardly to kill men who could not\ndefend themselves, and none but squaws would take such an advantage.\nAppealing thus alternately to their fears, their humanity, and their\nsuperstition, he wrought upon their better nature, and was successful in\ninducing them to forego their anticipated vengeance. One by one their\nweapons were returned to their accustomed places, and with subdued and\nless excited feelings, they recommenced their onward march to Niagara,\nwhich they reached at length; not, however, without the severest\nsuffering by the way.\n\nThe eloquence of the red-man is proverbial. Many a time has the captive\ntrembled when it has been exercised against him; and thrilled with joy,\nwhen it was exerted in his behalf. In the swift future, when all traces\nof his existence, who was once the master of this mighty continent, is\nswept away, and our children's children read of him, as an ancient and\nperished myth, the records of his eloquence shall be left alive. One of\nthe best specimens of Indian rhetoric, is the speech of Tecumseh, at the\ngrand council of the Creeks. One, who was present, and heard it as it\nfell from his lips, General Dale, says:\n\n\"I have heard many great orators, but I never saw one with the vocal\npowers of Tecumseh, or the same command of the muscles of the face. Had\nI been deaf, the play of his countenance would have told me what he\nsaid. Its effect on that wild, untutored, superstitious, and warlike\nassemblage, may be conceived: not a word was said, but stern warriors,\nthe 'stoics of the wood,' shook with emotion, and a thousand tomahawks\nwere brandished in the air. Even the big warrior, who had been true to\nthe whites, and remained faithful during the war, was, for the moment,\nvisibly affected, and more than once I saw his huge hand clutch,\nspasmodically the handle of his knife.\"\n\nBut, to the speech:\n\n\"In defiance of the white warriors of Ohio and Kentucky, I have traveled\nthrough their settlements, once our favorite hunting-grounds. No\nwar-whoop was sounded, but there is blood upon our knives The pale-faces\nfelt the blow, but knew not whence it came.\n\n\"Accursed be the race that has seized on our country and made women of\nour warriors. Our fathers, from their tombs, reproach us as slaves and\ncowards. I hear them now in the wailing winds.\n\n\"The Muscogee was once a mighty people. The Georgians trembled at your\nwar-whoop, and the maidens of my tribe, on the distant lakes, sung the\nprowess of your warriors, and sighed for their embraces.\n\n\"Now, your very blood is white; your tomahawks have no edges; your bows\nand arrows were buried with your fathers. Oh! Muscogees, brethren of my\nmother, brush from your eyelids the sleep of slavery; once more strike\nfor vengeance\u2014once more for your country. The spirits of the mighty dead\ncomplain. Their tears drop from the skies. Let the white man perish.\n\n\"They seize your land; they corrupt your women; they trample on the\nashes of your dead. Back, whence they came, upon a trail of blood, must\nthey be driven.\n\n\"Back! back, ay, into the great waters whose accursed waves brought them\nto our shores.\n\n\"Burn their dwellings! destroy their stock! Slay their wives and\nchildren! The red-man owns the country, and the pale-face must never\nenjoy it.\n\n\"War! war! War forever! War upon the living! War upon the dead! Dig\ntheir very corpses from the grave. _Our_ country must give no rest to a\nwhite man's bones.\n\n\"This is the will of the Great Spirit, revealed to my brother, his\nfamiliar, the Prophet of the Lakes. He sends me to you.\n\n\"All the tribes of the North are dancing the war-dance. Two mighty\nwarriors across the seas will send us arms.\n\n\"Tecumseh will soon return to his country. My prophets shall tarry with\nyou. They will stand between you and the bullets of your enemies. When\nthe white men approach you, the yawning earth shall swallow them up.\n\n\"Soon shall you see my arm of fire stretched athwart the sky. I will\nstamp my foot at Tippecanoe, and the very earth shall shake.\"\n\nIt appears that the wily orator had been informed by the British that a\ncomet was shortly to appear; and the earthquake, of 1811, had commenced\nas he came through Kentucky; so that, when the arm of fire was actually\nstretched forth, and the earth did shake under old Tippecanoe, his\nauditors attributed it to Tecumseh's supernatural powers, and\nimmediately took up arms.\n\nWe think the speech of Weatherford, one of the Creek war-chiefs, engaged\nagainst General Jackson, an equally fine example of their oratory, while\nit illustrates the remarkable dignity of mind which enabled him to\nsupport his humiliating position with such grandeur. It was after our\ndoughty General had nearly annihilated the tribes in his department, the\nIndians, seeing all resistance at an end, came forward and made their\nsubmission; Weatherford, however, and many who were known to be\ndesperate, still holding out.\n\nGeneral Jackson, determined to test the fidelity of those chiefs who had\nalready submitted, ordered them to deliver, without delay, Weatherford,\nbound, into his hands, to be dealt with as he deserved. When they made\nknown to the sachem what was required of them, his high spirit would not\nsubmit to such degradation; and, to hold them harmless, he resolved to\ngive himself up without compulsion.\n\nAccordingly, he proceeded to the American camp, unknown, until he\nappeared before the commanding General, to whose presence, under some\npretence, he gained admission. Jackson was greatly surprised when the\nchief said:\n\n\"I am Weatherford, the chief who commanded at the capture of Fort Mimms.\nI desire peace for my people, and have come to ask it.\"\n\nThe General had doubtless resolved upon his execution, when he should be\nbrought, bound; but, his unexpected appearance in this manner, saved\nhim; he said to the chief that he was astonished at his venturing to\nappear in his presence, as he was not ignorant of the warrior having\nbeen at Fort Mimms, nor of his inhuman conduct there, for which he\nrichly deserved to die.\n\n\"I ordered,\" continued the General, \"that you should be brought to me\nbound; had you been brought as I ordered, I should have known how to\ntreat you.\"\n\nIn answer to this, Weatherford replied:\n\n\"I am in your power; do with me as you please; I am a soldier. I have\ndone the whites all the harm I could. I have fought them, and fought\nthem bravely. Had I an army, I would yet fight\u2014I would contend to the\nlast; but, I have none. My people are all gone. I can only weep over the\nmisfortunes of my nation.\"\n\nJackson was of too audacious a nature himself, not to be pleased with\nthis fellow, and told him that he would take no advantage of his present\nsituation; that he might yet join the war-party, and contend against the\nAmericans, if he chose, but to depend upon no quarter, if taken; and\nthat unconditional submission was his, and his people's only safety.\nWeatherford rejoined, in a tone both dignified and indignant:\n\n\"You can safely address me in such terms, now. There was a time when I\ncould have answered\u2014there was a time when I had a choice\u2014I have none\nnow. I have not even a hope. I could once animate my warriors to the\nbattle\u2014but I can not animate the dead. My warriors can no longer hear my\nvoice. Their bones are at Talladega, Tallashatches, Emucklaw, and\nTohopeka. I have not surrendered myself without thought. While there was\na single chance of success, I never left my post nor supplicated peace.\nBut my people are gone; and I now ask it, for my nation, not for myself.\nI look back with deep sorrow, and wish to avert still greater\ncalamities. If I had been left to contend with the Georgian army, I\nwould have raised my corn on one bank of the river and fought them on\nthe other. But your people have destroyed my nation. You are a brave\nman. I rely on your generosity. You will exact no terms of a conquered\npeople, but such as they should accede to. Whatever they may be, it\nwould now be madness and folly to oppose them. If they are opposed, you\nwill find me among the sternest enforcers of obedience. Those, who would\nstill hold out, can be influenced only by a mean spirit of revenge. To\nthis, they must not, and shall not, sacrifice the last remnant of their\ncountry. You have told our nation where we might go and be safe. This,\nis good talk, and they ought to listen to it. They shall listen to it.\"\n\nWeatherford is described as having possessed a noble person and a\nbrilliant intellect. After peace was declared, he settled amid the\nwhites, and General Dale, who had fought against him often, had the\npleasure of standing as groomsman at his wedding.\n\n\n\n\n THE IMPLACABLE GOVERNOR.\n\n\nWhen the infamous Tryon succeeded Arthur Dobbs, as Colonial Governor of\nNorth Carolina, in 1766, he found the inhabitants of the upper part of\nthe State in the highest state of excitement\u2014almost in open rebellion\u2014on\naccount of the passage of the Stamp Act, which, to them, was like piling\nPelion upon Ossa, for they had suffered for years from the rapacity of\npublic officers, the oppression of the courts, and exorbitant taxes\nlevied to support a venal government. They had petitioned the Governor\nand Council for a redress of grievances, until they found that each\npetition was followed by increased extortion\u2014until their situation\nbecame so oppressive, that they resolved to take matters into their own\nhands. A solemn league was thereupon formed, called the \"REGULATION,\"\nand the members of it \"_Regulators_.\" The leader of this movement was\nHerman Husband, a quaker, a man of strong mind and great influence.\nThese Regulators resolved to pay no more taxes, unless satisfied of\ntheir legality; to pay no more fees than the strict letter of the law\nallowed; to select the proper men to represent them, and to petition for\nredress until their object\u2014a retrenchment of the exorbitant expenditure\nof the Government, and the consequent high rate of taxes\u2014was obtained.\nThe exasperated feelings of the people were somewhat calmed by the\nrepeal of the odious Stamp Act; but soon after that event, which had\nquieted and put to rest the stormy, riotous assemblies of the \"Sons of\nLiberty,\" as the Regulators were sometimes called, Governor Tryon\nsucceeded in obtaining, first, an appropriation of twenty-five thousand\ndollars to erect a gubernatorial palace, \"suitable for the residence of\na Colonial Governor,\" and a further sum of fifty thousand dollars to\ncomplete the same. This, together with the expense of running the\nboundary line between the State and the Cherokee nation, which was\nincurred by the vanity of the Governor in calling out the militia, and\nmarching at their head into the Cherokee country, with the ostensible\nobject of protecting the surveyors, and that, too, in time of peace, had\nthe effect to excite the indignation of the Regulators, and they\ndetermined to resist the imposition of the tax for these objects. Tryon,\nobserving the threatening storm, sent a proclamation by his Secretary,\nDavid Edwards, and a lawyer named Edmund Fanning, to be read and\nenforced among the people. Fanning was a man who was detested by the\nRegulators, for his extortions; but he managed to cajole them into the\nbelief that justice was about to be done them, and they agreed to meet\nhim, to heal all difficulties and settle the existing differences. While\nwaiting the time of meeting, however, they were astonished and highly\nexasperated by the arrest of Husband and a number of friends, who were\nthrown into jail by Fanning's orders. A rising of the people followed,\nand a large body of Regulators marched to Hillsborough to release the\nprisoners. They were induced, however, by the solemn assurance of\nEdwards, that their grievances should be redressed, to retire without\ncommitting any overt act. From this time forward, the temporizing policy\nof the Governor, and the rankling hatred of the Regulators, caused\nfrequent and serious outbreaks, until the former, determined to crush\nthe spirit of disaffection, collected the militia, and marched into the\ndisaffected district. He was met by a large body of the Regulators, and\na serious battle was fought, in which nine of the Regulators and\ntwenty-seven of the militia were killed, and a great number on both\nsides wounded. The Regulators had no acknowledged leader, and all was\nconfusion after the first fire from the militia, every man fighting on\nhis own account, and in his own way. The result was a victory for the\nGovernor, who took a number of prisoners, upon whom he vented the\nimplacable revenge which was as a consuming fire within him. His conduct\nwas more like that of a small-minded, vain, and vindictive man, than\nthat of a Royal Governor.\n\nAmong others whom fortune had thrown into his hands, was Captain Messer,\none of the most influential of the Regulators, and the father of an\ninteresting family. Tryon could not wait the tardy course of trial for\nthis man, but sentenced him to be hung the day after the battle. He must\nsate his desire for revenge in the blood of some of his victims, or his\nvictory would be incomplete. Messer begged to see his family before he\ndied; but this boon was denied him, and he was told to prepare for\ndeath. Information of his captivity, however, was conveyed to his wife\nby the fugitives from the field, and she repaired at once to the spot,\nwith her eldest boy, a lad ten years old, to comfort him in his\nconfinement. She did not know that he had been condemned to die, until\nshe reached the scene of the late encounter, where she was informed of\nit by seeing the preparations made for his execution. In an agony of\nmind which threatened to unseat her reason, she flew to Tryon, and\nbesought him on her knees to spare her husband's life. Every argument\nand appeal which her affection could command, was used in vain; the\nstony heart of the victorious Governor was not to be touched, and he\nspurned her from him in disdain, telling her that her husband should\ndie, though the _King_ should intercede in his behalf. The poor woman\nfell weeping to the ground, while her little son, with the spirit of his\nfather beaming in his eyes, endeavored to console her by assuring her\nthat Tryon would yet relent. While this was passing, the Captain was led\nforth to die. Mrs. Messer, on seeing her husband in the hands of the\nexecutioner, uttered a shriek of agony, which seemed to sever the cords\nof her heart, and swooned away. The noble-hearted boy at her side,\ninstead of giving way to grief, determined to make another appeal to\nTryon, who stood near viewing the proceedings. Throwing himself at the\nGovernor's feet, he said:\n\n\"Sir, hang me, and let my father live.\"\n\n\"Who told you to say that?\" asked Tryon.\n\n\"Nobody,\" was the reply.\n\n\"And why do you ask it?\"\n\n\"Because,\" replied the lad, \"if you hang father, my mother will die, and\nthe children will perish.\"\n\nThe Governor's heart was touched, and he replied:\n\n\"Your father shall not be hanged to-day.\"\n\nThe execution was stayed; while the noble boy went to his mother, and\nrestored her to consciousness by the news.\n\nThe unfeeling tyrant, however, annexed a condition to his reprieve,\nwhich was, that Messer should be set at liberty only on condition that\nhe should arrest and bring before him the person of Husband, who had\nfled before the battle commenced. Reflecting that success might attend\nhis efforts, and, at worst, he could but suffer if he failed, he\nconsented, while his wife and son were detained as hostages for his\nfidelity. He pursued Husband to Virginia, where he overtook him, but\ncould not persuade him to return, and was obliged to surrender himself\nagain to the tender mercies of his captor. He was bound in chains with\nthe other prisoners, and in this condition was marched through the\nvarious towns and villages on the route toward Newbern. At Hillsborough,\na court-martial was held, and twelve of the captive Regulators were\nsentenced to be hung. Six of these were reprieved, and the others\nsuffered death on the scaffold. Among the latter was Captain Messer, who\nmet his fate with the resignation of one who felt that he died in the\ncause of liberty. His broken-hearted wife returned to her home, now\nrendered desolate by her husband's death; while the tyrannical Governor\nmarched in triumph to Newbern, from whence he was soon after called to\nthe head of colonial affairs in New York.\n\nThe execution of Colonel Isaac Hayne, which took place later in the\nhistory of the Carolinas, presents a still more touching picture of the\ndevotion of a child and the tyranny of a British minion. After\nCharleston had fallen into the hands of the British, many of the Whigs\nof South Carolina were induced to take the protections which were\noffered by Lord Cornwallis. They were led to this step by the belief\nthat in the South the cause was hopeless, and were promised, by virtue\nof these protections, to be allowed to remain quietly in their homes and\ntake no part in the contest. Their surprise was great, when, soon after,\nthey were called upon to take up arms under the British commanders and\nagainst their countrymen. Conceiving that faith had been broken with\nthem, and their promises of neutrality no longer binding, they tore up\ntheir protections, and at once ranked themselves under the Continental\nleaders. Among those was Colonel Hayne, a man of unblemished reputation,\nfine talents and lofty patriotism. Indignant at the course pursued by\nthe British, he hastened to the American army, and began to take active\npart in the contest. Unfortunately, he fell into the enemy's hands, was\nconveyed to Charleston, submitted, by order of Rawdon, to a mock trial,\nand, to the horror of all, was condemned to death. He received his\nsentence with calmness, but the whole country was horrified. Both\nEnglish and Americans interceded for his life, and the ladies of\nCharleston immortalized themselves by the spirited address which they\nframed and delivered to his captors in his behalf. All was of no avail.\nThe cruel heart of Rawdon could not be moved; not even the captive's\nmotherless children, with bended knees and tearful prayers, could move\nhis obdurate nature.\n\nHayne's eldest child was a boy of thirteen, who was permitted to remain\nin prison with him up to the time of his execution. This boy was\nactuated by an affection for his father of the most romantic earnestness\nand fervor. Beholding him loaded with irons and condemned to die, he was\noverwhelmed with consternation and sorrow; nothing could alleviate his\ndistress. In vain did his parent endeavor to console him by reminding\nhim that this unavailing grief only heightened his own misery\u2014that he\nwas only to leave this world to be admitted into a better\u2014that it was\nglorious to die for liberty. The boy would not be comforted.\n\n\"To-morrow,\" said the unhappy father, \"I set out for immortality. You\nwill accompany me to the place of my execution, and when I am dead, take\nmy body and bury it beside your poor mother.\"\n\nIn an agony of grief the child fell weeping on his father's neck,\ncrying:\n\n\"Oh, my father, my father, I die with you!\"\n\nThe chains which bound the prisoner prevented his returning the embrace,\nbut he said, in reply:\n\n\"Live, my son\u2014live to honor God by a good life\u2014live to take care of your\nbrothers and sisters.\"\n\nThe next morning the son walked beside his father to the place of\nexecution. The history of the war scarcely affords a more heart-rending\nincident. There was not a citizen of Charleston whose bosom did not\nswell with anguish and indignation. There was sorrow in every\ncountenance, and when men spoke with each other, it was in accents of\nhorror.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n The Implacable Governor.\u2014_Page_ 14.\n]\n\nWhen the two came within sight of the gallows, the parent strengthened\nhimself, and said to the weeping boy:\n\n\"Tom, my son, show yourself a man! That tree is the boundary of my life\nand all my life's sorrow. Beyond that the wicked cease from troubling,\nand the weary are at rest. Don't lay too much at heart our separation\u2014it\nwill be short. 'Twas but lately your mother died; to-day I die; and you,\nthough young, must shortly follow.\"\n\n\"Yes, my father,\" replied the broken-hearted boy, \"I shall soon follow\nyou; for, indeed, I feel that I can not live long.\"\n\nAnd this melancholy anticipation was fulfilled in a manner far more\ndreadful than is implied in the mere extinction of life. When his father\nwas tom from his side, his tears flowed incessantly, and his bosom was\nconvulsed with sobs; but when he saw that beloved parent in the hands of\nthe executioner, the halter adjusted to his neck, and then his form\nconvulsively struggling in the air, the fountain of his tears was\nsuddenly stanched, and he stood transfixed with horror. He never wept\nagain. When all was over he was led from the scene, but there was a\nwildness in his look, a pallor in his cheek, which alarmed his friends.\nThe terrible truth was soon made known. His reason had fled forever. It\nwas not long before he followed his parents to the grave, but his death\nwas even sadder than his father's. In his last moments he often called\nthe beloved name in accents of such anguish that the sternest hearted\nwept to hear him. But the merciful all-Father took him home and restored\nhim forever to the side of that parent, the shock of whose rude death\nsundered the tender strings of a child's heart.\n\nLord Rawdon should have been proud of this noble feat. He was one of\nthose who\n\n \"Stand, to move the world, on a child's heart.\"\n\nThe outrageous oppression of Governor Tryon and Lord Rawdon were only a\nfew among many instances of the spirit shown by Government officials,\nuntil the people of the Colonies were driven to that universal rebellion\nwhich resulted in the establishment of our independence. And when that\nstruggle was begun, British arrogance and cruelty asserted itself, in\nher officers and minions, in those equivocal shapes which ought to make\nBritish history blush with shame along the ensanguined record. It has\nbeen truly said that a wrong begun is only maintained by a wrong\ncontinued.\n\nThe first contest of England with America sprang from tyranny; she was\nthe aggressor, the offending party: and it seems to have been a moral\nconsequence, that a war, thus unrighteous, should have been\ncharacterized by a violation of every humane and honorable purpose. The\nextent to which British cruelty was carried in the memorable contest of\nthe Revolution, is scarcely appreciated by us. Nothing equals the\nvindictive, bloodthirsty fury which characterized it in some quarters of\nthe Union. It was almost a war of extermination in the South. There,\nlads were often shot down, that they might not live to be full-grown\nrebels, and mothers murdered, that they might bring forth no more\nenemies to the king. Among the people in villages, and in the open\ncountry, existed the greatest suffering, and often was manifested the\nloftiest patriotism and the grandest fortitude. With such ferocity were\nthey pursued by the British soldiery, that their only retreat became the\narmy. At no moment were they safe. Neither in their beds, nor by their\nfiresides, nor on the highways. Daily and nightly murders frightened the\ntime with their atrocities. Reckless marauders traversed the country in\nall directions, sparing neither sex, age, nor infancy. Nightly, the red\nflame glared on the horizon, and houseless children hung over the\ndesecrated, butchered forms of their parents.\n\nBut of all atrocities, those committed in the prisons and prison-ships\nof New York were most execrable; there is nothing in history to excel\nthe barbarities there inflicted. It is stated that nearly twelve\nthousand American prisoners \"suffered death by their inhuman, cruel and\nbarbarous usage on board the filthy and malignant prison-ship, called\nthe _Jersey_, lying in New York.\"\n\nThe scenes enacted within the prisons almost exceed belief. There were\nseveral prisons in the city; but the most terrible of them all was the\nProvost (now the Hall of Records), which was under the charge of\nCunningham, that wretch, the like of whom the world has not many times\nproduced. He had a love for inflicting torture; it was his passion, his\nbesotted appetite; he seemed to live upon the agony of human beings;\ntheir groans were his music, their sufferings his pastime. He took an\neager delight in murder. He stopped the rations of the prisoners and\nsold them, to add to the luxuries of his own table, while his victims\nwere starving to death. They were crowded into rooms where there was not\nspace to lie down, with no blankets to protect them from the cold, to\nwhich the unglazed windows exposed them, while they were suffering from\nfevers, thirst, and hunger. In the summer, epidemics raged among them,\nwhile they were denied medicine or attendance, and compelled to breathe\nthe damp and putrid air. But, hear what Cunningham himself says of his\nacts, in his dying speech and confession, when brought to the gallows,\nin London, for a forgery of which he was convicted:\n\n\"I shudder to think of the murders I have been accessory to, both with\nand without orders from the Government, especially in New York, during\nwhich time, there was more than two thousand prisoners starved in the\ndifferent prisons, by stopping their rations, which I sold. There were\nalso two hundred and seventy-five American prisoners and obnoxious\npersons executed, out of all which number, there was only about a dozen\npublic executions, which consisted chiefly of British and Hessian\ndeserters. The mode for private executions, was this: a guard was\ndespatched from the Provost, about half-past twelve, at night, to the\nbarrack, and the neighborhood of the upper barracks, to order the people\nto close their window-shutters and put out their lights, forbidding\nthem, at the same time, to look out, on pain of death; after which, the\nunfortunate victims were conducted, gagged, just behind the upper\nbarracks, and hung without ceremony, and there buried by the Black\nPioneer of the Provost.\"\n\nThese murders were common, nightly pastime of this monster.\n\nThe saddest of the tragedies in which Cunningham bore his ignominious\npart, was the execution of that glorious young martyr, whose name shall\nglow brighter and brighter on the record of his country's heroes, as the\nages roll away.\n\nThe impartial reader will question the justice of history, which has\ndone so much for the memory of Andr\u00e9, and left that of Hale in\ncomparative oblivion. And yet we can discover but little difference in\ntheir cases. Both were possessors of genius and taste, both were endowed\nwith excellent qualities and attainments, and both were impelled by a\ndesire to serve the cause they respectively espoused, and both suffered\na similar death, but under vastly different circumstances. And yet a\nmagnificently sculptured monument in Westminster Abbey, perpetuates the\nname of the English officer, while none know where sleep the ashes of\nHale, and neither stone nor epitaph tells us of the services rendered by\nhim; while the first is honored in every quarter where the English\nlanguage is spoken, the name of the latter is unknown to many of his\ncountrymen. \"There is something more than natural in this, if philosophy\ncould find it out.\"[3]\n\nFootnote 3:\n\n About ten years since, the ladies of Windham and Tolland Counties,\n Conn., caused a handsome monument to be erected to the memory of the\n young martyr.\n\nNathan Hale was not twenty years of age, when the first gun of the\nrevolution broke upon the ears of the colonists. The patriotic cause at\nonce aroused his enthusiastic love for liberty and justice, and without\npausing for a moment to consider the prudence of such a step, his ardent\nnature prompted him at once, to throw himself into the ranks of his\ncountry's defenders. Distinguished as a scholar, and respected, by all\nwho knew him, for his brilliant talents, he was at once tendered a\nCaptain's commission in the light infantry. He served in the regiment\ncommanded by Colonel Knowlton, and was with the army in its retreat\nafter the disastrous battle of Long Island.\n\nAfter the army had retreated from New York, and while it was posted on\nthe Hights of Harlem, the Commander-in-Chief earnestly desired to be\nmade acquainted with the force and contemplated movements of the enemy,\nand for this purpose, applied to Colonel Knowlton to select some\nindividual capable of performing the hazardous and delicate service.\nKnowlton applied to Hale, who, on becoming acquainted with the wishes of\nWashington, immediately volunteered his services. He stated that his\nobject in joining the army, was not merely for fame, but to serve the\ncountry; that as yet, no opportunity had offered for him to render any\nsignal aid to her cause, and when a duty so imperative and so important\nas this was demanded of him, he was ready to sacrifice not only life,\nbut all hope of glory, and to suffer the ignomy which its failure would\ncast upon his name. His friends endeavored to dissuade him from the\nundertaking, but lofty considerations of duty impelled him to the step.\n\nHaving disguised himself as a schoolmaster, he crossed the Sound at\nFairfield, to Huntingdon, and proceeded thence to Brooklyn. This was in\nSeptember, 1776. When he arrived at Brooklyn, the enemy had already\ntaken possession of New York. He crossed over to the city, his disguise\nunsuspected, and pursued the objects of his mission. He examined all\ntheir fortifications with care, and obtained every information relative\nto the number of the enemy, their intentions, etc. Having accomplished\nall that he could, he left the city, and retraced his steps to\nHuntingdon. While here, waiting for a boat to convey him across the\nSound, his apprehension was effected. There are great discrepancies in\nthe various accounts which are given of his arrest, but all agree that\nit was through the means of a refugee cousin, who detected his disguise.\nAccording to one account, while he was at Huntingdon, a boat came to the\nshore, which he at first supposed to be one from Connecticut, but which\nproved to be from an English vessel lying in the Sound. He incautiously\napproached the boat, and was recognized by his Tory relative, who was in\nthe boat at the time. He was arrested, and sent to New York.\n\nThere can not be a more striking proof of the different value set upon\nthe services of Andr\u00e9 and Hale by their respective nations, than the\nfact afforded by the different manner of their arrest. There was not a\nsingle circumstance connected with the capture of Andr\u00e9, but what is\nknown to every reader of history, but in the case of Hale, who stands\nAndr\u00e9's equal in every particular, it is not even known with certainty\nhow he was apprehended. We have a few uncertain legends relative to it,\nbut these are widely different, some making him arrested on the Sound,\nsome on the island, and others on the outskirts of the city. But there\nwas one circumstance connected with Hale's capture, which should enhance\nour sympathy for him. Andr\u00e9 fell into the American hands by means of the\nsagacity, watchfulness, and fidelity of our own soldiers; but Hale was\nbetrayed by the base perfidy and treason of a renegade relative. And\nwhat two opposite phases of human nature does the contrast between these\ntwo incidents afford! In the first, we find three men, three poor men,\nso fixed in principle and determined in right, that the most tempting\noffers\u2014offers when an assent would have given them wealth, ease, and\nluxury\u2014were refused. Strong honesty overcame temptation, and they were\ncontent to struggle on in poverty, oblivion, and privation, with\nunsullied hearts, rather than feast and riot in luxury. But in the\nlatter incident, we find one of the most execrable acts recorded in\nhistory. The betrayal of Hale by his relative, contrasted with the stem\nintegrity of Andr\u00e9's captors, affords a most striking picture.\n\nWe are all aware of what followed the capture of Andr\u00e9. He was tried\nbefore an honorable court, and while strict justice demanded his life,\nthe necessity was deplored by his judges, and his fate aroused in every\nheart the keenest sympathy and the deepest sorrow. But how widely\ndifferent was the unhappy end of the noble Hale! He was surrendered to\nthe incarnate fiend, Cunningham, the Provost-Marshal, and ordered to\nimmediate execution, without even the formality of a trial.\n\nThe twenty-first of September, 1776, was a day to be remembered in New\nYork. From Whitehall to Barclay Street, a conflagration raged along both\nsides of Broadway, in which, four hundred and ninety-three houses, or\nabout one-third of the city, was laid in ashes. The College Green, and a\nchange of wind, only arrested the swift destruction. On that day, the\ndignified, harsh, cold, and courtly Howe, had his head-quarters at the\nBeekman House, (now standing at the corner of Fifty-first Street and\nFirst Avenue) on the East River, about three and a quarter miles from\nthe Park. The conflagration, checked, but not subdued, still clouded the\nair, when a generous youth, of high intelligence, kindly manners, and\nnoble character, was brought into the presence of this stern dignitary.\nThat youth was charged with being a spy, and the allegation was\nsubstantiated by some military sketches and notes found on his person.\nIn this court of last resort, Hale dropped all disguises, and at once\nproclaimed himself an American officer and a spy. He attempted no plea\nof extenuation; he besought no pardoning clemency; he promised no\ntransfer of allegiance. He waited calmly, with no unmanly fears, the too\nevident sentence which was to snap his brittle thread of life. Howe kept\nhim not long waiting, but at once wrote a brief order, giving to William\nCunningham, Provost Marshal of the Royal army, the care and custody of\nthe body of Nathan Hale, Captain in the rebel army, this day convicted\nas a spy, and directing him to be hung by the neck until dead,\n\"to-morrow morning at daybreak.\"\n\nDare we allow our sad and sympathizing fancies to follow the young hero\nto the old Provost, where one night only remained to him of earth? It is\ndifficult to conceive a night of greater distress, or more thronged with\nmemories, endurances, and anticipations. Never was prison presided over\nby a more insatiate monster than this Cunningham. All the surroundings\nwere of the most forbidding character. The coming morning was to conduct\nthe prisoner, through unspeakable contumely, to the portals of eternity.\nHe calmly asked that his hands might be loosed, and that a light and\nwriting materials might be supplied, to enable him to write to his\nparents and friends. Cunningham denied the request! Hale asked for the\nuse of a Bible, and even this was savagely refused.\n\nThank God, there was one there with enough of the heart and feelings of\na man, to be roused to energetic remonstrance by such malignant\ninhumanity. The Lieutenant of Hale's guard earnestly and successfully\nbesought that these requests be granted. In the silent hours, so swiftly\nbearing him on to the verge of his dear and happy life, the strong soul\nof the martyr was permitted to write, for loved eyes its parting\nmessages. Doubtless, one of these was to the sweet Alice Adams, the\nmaiden to whom he was betrothed. On came the swift and fatal morning,\nand with it the diabolical Cunningham, eager to luxuriate in another's\nwoe. Hale handed him the letters he had written; Cunningham at once read\nthem, and, growing furious at their high spirit, _tore them to pieces\nbefore the writer's eyes_. He afterward gave, as his reason, \"that the\nrebels should never know they had a man who could die with such\nfirmness.\"\n\nConfronted by this representative of His Majesty, cheered by no voice of\nfriendship, or even of sympathy, beset by the emblems and ministers of\nignominious death, Hale stood on the fatal spot. His youthful face\ntransfigured with the calm peace of a triumphant martyr; a life,\nsuffused with religious sensibilities, and blooming with holy love, then\nand there culminated.\n\nThe ritual of disgrace had been performed, and a single refinement of\nmalice, was all that even Cunningham's ingenuity could devise; he\ndemanded \"a dying speech and confession.\" Humanity had begun to assert\nitself in the crowd of curious gazers, for pity was swelling up in many\nhearts, finding expression in stifled sobs. Firm and calm, glowing with\npurification and self-sacrifice, Hale seemed to gather up his soul out\nof his body, as, with solemn emphasis, he gave answer to this last\ndemand of malignity:\n\n\"_I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country._\"\n\nWhy have not we a sky-piercing monument, wherein is set a tablet of\nsolid silver, whereon those words are printed in letters of pure gold?\n\nHonest Tunis Bogart, a witness of Hale's execution, said:\n\n\"I have never been able to efface the scene of horror from my mind\u2014it\nrises up to my imagination always.\" Ashar Wright, who was Hale's\npersonal attendant, was so completely overwhelmed by his fate, that his\nunderstanding reeled from its throne, never to be fully reinstated.\n\nThere was such lamentation among relatives, friends, and brother\nofficers, when his death was learned, as betokened how he had endeared\nhimself to all. His memory has been quietly cherished in many hearts.\nAnd ever, as the tide of time rolls on, his fame increases\u2014his star\nsails steadily up among the immortal crowd of illustrious dead.\n\nA certain share of infamy attaches to Howe, on account of the\nbarbarities of Hale's execution. He could and should have known that\nCunningham was a devil, unfit for any earthly trust. He should, too,\nhave observed the due formality of a court-martial, and he certainly\nshould have taken care to have had the sentence executed with decency.\nHowe is deeply blameworthy for his lack of humanity, and for his\nunrestrained indulgence of such monsters as the Provost-Marshal. He\nstands convicted of a tolerance of demoniac cruelty, not only in this\ncase, but in the prison-ships, and his general administration. There is\nsomething even more damning in being an ungenerous enemy, than an\nungenerous friend. Let the disgrace which it fairly won, rest forever on\nthe name of Howe.\n\nAs for that sweet Alice Adams, to whom Nathan Hale was engaged, the\nevents of a long life, the transformation of four score and eight years,\npassed over her head. In life's extremity, when shadows came and went,\nand earth was receding dimly, the first loved name was the last word on\nher lips. Truth and love came back to her in old age and death; perhaps\nshe saw him standing on the eternal shores awaiting to help her\nover\u2014love, life and youth are immortal there\u2014and calling to him, she\npassed away.\n\n\n\n\n MRS. SLOCUMB AT MOORE'S CREEK.\n\n\nMary Slocumb was the noble-hearted wife of one of the bravest soldiers\nof the Southern army, and was a fair specimen of the heroic women whose\ninfluence was so sensibly felt in the Carolinas at the period when the\nRevolutionary storm was deluging that section with all the horrors of\ncivil war. Lieutenant Slocumb, her husband, like many others whose\npatriotism would not allow them to remain at home in the enjoyment of\nease and comfort, while their country called for the exertion of her\nsons to free her from the thraldom of a foreign tyrant, had attached\nhimself to the regiment of Colonel Caswell, who, at the period of which\nwe write, had collected his friends and the yeomen of the surrounding\ncountry, to give battle to Donald McDonald, and his Highlanders and\nTories, then on their way to join Sir Henry Clinton on Cape Fear, after\nhaving escaped from Colonel Moore at Cross Creeks. In the battle of\nMoore's Creek, which followed, Lieutenant Slocumb and his detachment, by\nturning the flank of the enemy, secured the victory to the patriots, and\ncaptured a large portion of the loyal Highlanders, among whom was the\nbrave McDonald himself. It was a hard fought and bloody battle, and\nSlocumb, in after years, delighted to relate the incidents of the\nobstinately contested field, among which none was so interesting as his\nmeeting with his wife on his return from the pursuit of the defeated\nTories. It seems that on the night after the departure of her husband\nand his detachment, Mrs. Slocumb had dreamed of seeing her husband's\nbody, wrapped in his military cloak, lying upon the battle-field,\nsurrounded with the dead and dying. So strong was the impression upon\nher mind, that she could sleep no more, and she determined to go to him.\nTelling her woman to look after her child, and merely saying that she\ncould not sleep, and would ride down the road, she went to the stable,\nsaddled her mare\u2014as fleet a nag as ever traveled\u2014and in a few moments\nwas on her way after the little army, sixty miles distant. By the time\nshe had ridden some ten miles, the night air had cooled her feverish\nexcitement, and she was tempted to turn back, but the thought that her\nhusband might be dead, or dying, urged her on, and when the first faint\ntints of morning illumined the east, she was thirty miles from home. At\nsunrise, she came upon a group of women and children, who had taken\ntheir station in the road to catch any tidings that might pass from the\nbattle-field. Of these she inquired if the battle had been fought, but\nthey could give her no information, and she rode on, following the\nwell-marked trail of the troops.\n\nAbout eight or nine o'clock she heard a sound like distant thunder. She\nstopped to listen; again it boomed in the distance, and she knew it must\nbe cannon. The battle was then raging.\n\n\"What a fool!\" thought she. \"My husband could not be dead last night,\nand the battle only fighting now. Still, as I am so near, I will go on\nand see how they come out.\"\n\nEvery step now brought her nearer the field, and she soon heard the\nsound of the musketry and shouting. In a few moments she came out into\nthe road below Moore's Creek bridge. A short distance from the road,\nunder a cluster of trees, were lying perhaps twenty men. They were\nwounded.\n\n\"I knew the spot\u2014the very trees; and the position of the men I knew as\nif I had seen it a thousand times. I had seen it all night! I saw all at\nonce; but in an instant my whole soul was centered in one spot; for\nthere, wrapped in his bloody guard cloak, lay the body of my husband.\nHow I passed the few yards from my saddle to the spot I never knew. I\nremember uncovering the head, and seeing a face clothed with gore from a\ndreadful wound across the temple. I put my hand on the bloody face;\n'twas warm, and an _unknown voice_ begged for water.\"\n\nWhat a revulsion! It was not her husband, then, after all! She brought\nwater, gave him some to drink, washed his face, and discovered that it\nwas Frank Cogdell. He soon revived, and could speak.\n\n\"I was washing the wound on his head. Said he: 'It is not that; it is\nthat hole in my leg that is killing me.' A puddle of blood was standing\non the ground about his feet; I took his knife, cut away his trowsers\nand stocking, and found the blood came from a shot-hole, through and\nthrough the fleshy part of his leg.\"\n\nShe sought for some healing leaves, bound up his wounds, and then went\nto others, whose wounds she dressed, and while engaged in this\ncharitable work, Colonel Caswell came up. He was surprised, of course,\nto see her, and was about to pay her some compliment, when she abruptly\nasked for her husband.\n\n\"He is where he ought to be, madam, in pursuit of the enemy. But, pray,\nhow came you here?\"\n\n\"Oh, I thought,\" said she, \"you would need nurses as well as soldiers.\nSee! I have already dressed many of these good fellows; and here is\none,\" going to Frank, and lifting up his head so that he could drink\nsome more water, \"would have died before any of you men could have\nhelped him.\"\n\nJust then she looked up, and her husband, covered with blood and dirt,\nstood before her.\n\n\"Why, Mary!\" he exclaimed, \"what are you doing there? Hugging Frank\nCogdell, the greatest reprobate in the army!\"\n\n\"I don't care,\" she cried, \"Frank is a brave fellow, a good soldier, and\na true friend to Congress.\"\n\n\"True, true! every word of it!\" said Caswell; \"you are right, madam,\"\nwith the lowest possible bow.\n\n\"I would not tell my husband,\" says she, \"what brought me there. I was\nso happy; and so were all! It was a glorious victory; I came just at the\nhight of the enjoyment, I knew my husband was surprised, but I could see\nhe was not displeased with me. It was night again before our excitement\nhad all subsided. Many prisoners were brought in, and among them some\nvery obnoxious; but the worst of the Tories were not taken prisoners.\nThey were for the most part left in the woods and swamps, whenever they\nwere overtaken. I begged for some of the poor prisoners, and Caswell\nreadily told me none should be hurt, but such as had been guilty of\nmurder and house-burning. In the middle of the night, I again mounted my\nmare and started for home. Caswell and my husband wanted me to stay till\nnext morning, and they would send a party with me; but no; I wanted to\nsee my child, and I told them they could send no party who could keep up\nwith me. What a happy ride I had back! and with what joy did I embrace\nmy child as he ran to meet me.\"\n\nCould the inventive genius of the most able writer of fiction suggest a\nmore thrilling narrative? Alas! how many such intensely interesting\nincidents are buried in the graves of those noble men and women who\nsacrificed everything but honor, that we, their children, might live\nfree and independent.\n\nHow many females of the present age could be found to ride a hundred and\ntwenty-five miles in less than forty hours, even on such an errand?\n\nThis was not the only adventure of this spirited lady, living, as she\ndid, in the midst of contending armies, and entering with ardor, into\nall the plans and hopes of her husband.\n\nAnother couple, living at the North, had some spirited adventures, quite\nworth chronicling. In the town of North Castle, Westchester County, New\nYork, resided, during the War for Independence, a young married couple,\nwho were both, heart and soul, enlisted in the patriotic cause, and\nwhose best services were devoted to their country. Mr. Fisher was an\neminent and active member of a partisan band, under Major Paulding,\nwhose confidence and esteem he always enjoyed to an eminent degree, and\nwho by his unflinching patriotism, and the energy and skill with which\nhe thwarted the plans and designs of the Tories, made himself\nparticularly obnoxious to them. His active duties as a scout, sometimes\nkept him for months from his home, where his young wife had nothing but\nher heroism of spirit to oppose to the marauding bands that traversed\nthe \"Neutral Ground,\" and whose creed it was, to make war upon women and\nchildren indiscriminately. While the high-minded Whig, therefore, was\nserving his country, in the swamp and on the mountain, the wife had to\nundergo scenes, requiring an equal courage and fortitude, with those of\nhis.\n\nShe was one of those women of the revolution, by whose indomitable\nspirit and active benevolence our armies were often held together, and\nour soldiers encouraged to persevere in the glorious course they had\nbegun. She was without fear, and was always ready to serve her\ncountry, or defend herself, upon any emergency. The American soldier,\ntoo, often found relief from suffering, through her benevolence. She\nwas one of those, who attended upon the wounded of White Plains, and\nadministered comfort to the dying, and relief to the wounded. After\nthis battle, when Washington's army was encamped near her residence,\nthe Commander-in-Chief's table was often indebted for many of its\ndelicacies, to the prudent attention and care of Mrs. Fisher.\nWashington often expressed his obligations to her in person.\n\nMany anecdotes are related of her daring. On one occasion, a favorite\ncolt was stolen, when she mounted a horse and rode down to Morrissania,\nwhere the loyalists were encamped, and demanded of the English officer\nin command, the restoration of her property. The Englishman courteously\nassented, and the colt being found, it was restored to her. This was\nconsidered at the time, a most daring expedition. Her route, which was a\nlong one, was through a section of country beset with marauders, who\nwere never in the habit of hesitating to make war on a woman.\n\nWe remarked that the danger from the marauding Tory bands, prevented Mr.\nFisher from visiting his home, but at long intervals. There was one band\nof Tories notorious for its cruelty, headed by one Blindberry, a most\nbloodthirsty wretch, whose memory to this day, is only preserved to be\nexecrated. This fellow was the terror of the whole community. On one\noccasion, after having been absent for six months, Mr. Fisher's anxiety\nto see his family, became so great, that one evening he cautiously\napproached the house, and was admitted unseen. Late that night, after he\nhad retired, steps were heard without, and presently there was a loud\nknocking at the door, with a peremptory summons for it to be opened.\nThis not being heeded, it was repeated, with a threat to break open the\ndoor, if it was not complied with. The house was a simple old-fashioned\ncottage, the door opening directly into a room, which was used by Mr.\nFisher and his wife as a sleeping room. The party now discharged their\npistols three or four times through the window, but the balls lodged\nharmlessly in the walls. This proceeding effecting nothing, they begun\nat once to demolish the door, and in a few moments they burst roughly\ninto the room. Mr. Fisher sprung from the bed, prepared to defend his\nwife and himself to the last. But the only object of this band was\nplunder. In those times, the country people were compelled to convert\ntheir effects into money, as every thing moveable, would be sure to be\ncaptured, and having no means of investing their wealth, it was\ngenerally concealed in secure places. But these concealments rarely\navailed them any thing, if their persons should fall into the hands of\nthe Tories, as every means of torture that ingenuity could suggest, was\navailed of to force the hapless victims to betray the hiding place of\ntheir wealth. Hanging, roasting over slow fires, or a pistol at the\nhead, were the usual modes adopted.\n\nThe Tory leader, who was no other than this same Blindberry, demanded of\nMr. Fisher his gold. The stern patriot, who was a man of unconquerable\nwill, calmly refused. The marauders became enraged, and he was\nthreatened with death if he persisted in his denial. But neither the\nflashing swords that gleamed around him, the musket at his breast, nor\nthe furious aspects of the wretches, could move him a jot from his\ndetermined purpose. The word was given to try hanging. In an instant a\nrope was thrown over the branch of a tree, that stood by the door, and\ntheir victim was drawn beneath it, and the rope adjusted to his neck.\nOnce more he was asked to give up his money. Without the tremor of a\nmuscle, he refused. The next moment he was dangling high up in the air.\nHe was allowed to suspend for a few seconds, and lowered to the ground.\nHis reply to the same question was given, in an undaunted refusal. Again\ndid his tormentors run him up into the air; but when they again lowered\nhim, he had fainted. In a few moments, however, he revived, and as the\nknowledge of the affair gradually broke upon his mind, he thundered out,\n\"No, not a farthing!\" Once more did the wretches swing him off, and this\ntime he was kept suspended until they thought he was dead, when they\nlowered him, and seeing now no chance of obtaining the coveted gold,\nthey departed.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n Mrs. Slocumb at Moore's Creek.\u2014_Page_ 27.\n]\n\nThe agony of the wife during this scene, can only be imagined. A Tory\nwas stationed by her side, and with a pistol at her head, enjoined\nsilence on the penalty of her life. In those few minutes were crowded a\nlife of torture and suffering. When they had gone, she tremblingly stole\nout to the side of her husband, and with what little strength she\npossessed, dragged his lifeless form into the house. With the vague hope\nthat he might not be dead, she applied restoratives, and soon had the\nunspeakable joy of detecting signs of life. Ere morning, he was entirely\nrestored, and that very day joined his scout.\n\nContinuing their route, the Tories fell upon several of the neighbors,\nall of whom suffered some cruelty at their hands. At one house they\nplaced its master in a chair, tied him down, and built a fire under him,\nby which means he was at last compelled by his unsupportable agony to\nreveal the hiding place of his gold. But a terrible retribution was\npreparing for them. Major Paulding had gathered a party of his men, and\nwas in hot pursuit of them. As the Major was following up their track,\nhe stopped at the residence of Mr. Wright, an old Quaker, who felt a\nstrong sympathy for the American cause, but whose principles prevented\nhim from taking an active part in the contest. To the inquiry, if such a\nparty of Tories as has been described, was seen, the Quaker replied in\nthe affirmative, pointing out the course they had taken.\n\n\"What do you say, my men,\" said the Major to his followers, \"shall we\nfollow them up?\"\n\nA unanimous consent was given.\n\n\"Jonathan, if thee wishes to see those men,\" said Mr. Wright,\napproaching Major Paulding, with a knowing look, \"if thee wishes to see\nthem particular, would it not be better for thee to go to 'Brundage's\nCorner,' as they are most likely from the North, and will return that\nway. There thee can'st see them without doubt.\"\n\nThe shrewd insinuation of the Quaker, was caught in an instant. The\nplace referred to, afforded a most admirable place for an ambuscade, and\nby secreting themselves there, the enemy was certain to fall into their\nhands.\n\nThe Whigs had not been concealed long, ere the party was heard\napproaching. At the signal, the patriots sprung forward, and discharged\ntheir weapons. At the very first fire, the bloodthirsty Tory leader\nfell, some said from a bullet discharged by the hand of Major Paulding\nhimself.\n\nThe intense hatred felt by the people toward Blindberry, and the\nuniversal joy manifested at his fall, prompted some to make a public\nrejoicing on the event, and in order to express their uncompromising\nhostility to their foe, his body was hung before the assembled patriots\nof the district, amid their jeers and expressions of pleasure. Among the\nassembly was Mr. Fisher, who, but a few hours before had so nearly\nfallen a victim to his cruelty.\n\nSome little time after the preceding events, while Mr. Fisher was on\nanother visit to his family, sudden word was brought, that the Tories\nwere approaching. This, as before, was during the night. Mr. Fisher had\nreason to suppose, that the object of this party, was to secure his\nperson, and it became necessary to obtain a place of concealment. The\nmost advantageous one that offered, was beneath the flooring, which was\nloose, where was ample room for him, and where it was hoped, the Tories\nwould not think of looking for their enemy. Scarcely had he secreted\nhimself, when the Tories appeared. They burst into the presence of Mrs.\nFisher, in a boisterous manner, and with brutal jests and extravagant\nthreats, demanded to be informed, where her husband was. To these\ninquiries, the undaunted woman deigned no reply.\n\n\"Come, give us a light,\" said the leader, \"that we may ferret out your\nrebel husband's hiding place. I'll swear, that you've got him stowed\naway somewhere here.\"\n\n\"I have no light,\" was the calm reply.\n\nThe difficulties of procuring stores, sometimes left Whig families for\nweeks without the common necessities.\n\n\"Come, my woman, none of that!\" broke in the Tory; \"a light we want, and\na light we must have, so bring out your candles!\"\n\n\"I have none,\" reiterated Mrs. Fisher.\n\nThe Tory, with an oath, drew a pistol, cocked it, and coming up to her,\nplaced the muzzle in her face.\n\n\"Look here, my lady,\" said he, \"we know that you've got your rebel of a\nhusband somewhere about here, and if you don't at once give us a candle,\nso that we may hunt out his hiding place, I'll blow your brains out.\"\n\n\"I have told you,\" replied the lady, \"that I have no candle; I can not\ngive you one, so you may blow my brains out the moment you please.\"\n\nThe heroic spirit that breathed in her words, and the firm look from her\nundaunted eye, convinced the Tory that she was not to be intimidated.\nThey were compelled to make their search in the dark. After rummaging\ninto every nook and corner in vain, they gave up their object. On\nseveral other occasions, Mr. Fisher had similar narrow escapes.\n\nWe can not refrain from referring to one enterprise in which Mr. Fisher\nwas engaged, by which means fifteen Whigs put to flight, over three\nhundred Hessians. The news of their approach was spread abroad, and the\nutmost consternation prevailed. The Hessians were always held in great\nterror by the country people. On this occasion, they fled at their\napproach into the forests and other secure fastnesses. Coney Hill, was\nthe usual place of retreat on these alarms. This was a hill somewhat off\nfrom the main roads, and which was surrounded by narrow defiles, and\nreached only through dense thickets, while its rocky and irregular\nsurface, afforded a means of defense impregnable. No fortress could have\nbeen more secure. All the inhabitants, therefore, retreated to this\nfastness, Mrs. Fisher alone of all neighbors, venturing to remain within\nher own house.\n\nThe usual road traveled by the armies, that led north from White Plains,\nin one place described a wide circuit, but there was a narrow, irregular\nroad, sometimes used, that shortened the distance considerably. But this\nroad was very dangerous to any large body of men. It led by the Coney\nHill, which we have mentioned, and its whole length was through a rocky\nregion, overgrown with tangled thickets of laurel, that would have\nafforded effectual protection and concealment to a body of assailants,\nand have made a small force formidable to a large one.\n\nAt a point on this road, therefore, Major Paulding and fifteen followers\nstationed themselves, with a belief, that from the irregular and\nincautious manner the Hessians were marching, they would be induced to\nlessen their route, by taking the shorter cut. The belief proved to be\nwell founded. The spot where Major Paulding posted his ambuscade, was\none remarkably well adapted to that kind of warfare. It was, where the\nroad passing through a defile, made a sudden turn around a large rock,\nand where it was so narrow, that six men could not pass abreast, while\nthe whole rising ground on either side was irregular, with rough, jagged\nrocks, and covered with a dense growth of laurel.\n\nStationed at different points, and protected by rocky battlements, the\nlittle band quietly awaited the coming of their enemy. At last they\nappeared, approaching carelessly, and with an utter want of military\nprudence. Not a sound, nor breath betrayed to them the presence of a\nfoe. The rocks, and laurel bushes, gave forth no sign of the deadly\nmessengers to be launched from their bosoms. Part of the Hessians had\nalready passed the turn of the road, when suddenly, like a clap of\nthunder from an azure sky, an explosion burst from the flinty rocks that\nsurrounded them, and several of their number, pitched headlong to the\nearth. Those in front, panic struck, fell back upon those in the rear,\nwhile those in the rear pressed forward, uncertain of the danger, and\ndischarged their muskets into the thickets, but the bullets rebounded\nharmlessly from the rocky walls, that inclosed their enemy. Another\nvolley completed their panic. Terrified at the presence of an enemy,\nthat seemed to fight from the bowels of the earth, and unable to\nestimate the full extent of their danger, which their imagination\ngreatly magnified, they gave a wild cry, and fled precipitately.\n\nThis event afforded the Whigs for a long time much merriment,\nparticularly as it was accompanied with no loss to the little party, who\nhad given the Hessians their terrible flight. Mrs. Fisher was accustomed\nto give an amusing relation of the manner they appeared, as they flew by\nher house, each running at his utmost speed, with the tin cannisters and\nother numerous accouterments with which the Hessian soldiers were always\nso plentifully provided\u2014flying out in a straight line behind them.\n\nThe following incident, admirably illustrates the presence of mind, and\nthe many resources of this courageous lady. One day, a Whig neighbor\nburst hastily into her presence, saying, that he was pursued by a body\nof Tories, and if not concealed immediately, he was lost. It did not\ntake a moment for Mrs. Fisher to decide upon her course. There was a\nlarge ash heap just out of the back door, some four or five feet in\nhight, and as many long. Seizing a shovel, in a moment she made an\nexcavation, into which the fugitive crept, and the lady covered him with\nashes, having first taken the precaution to procure some _quills_, which\nshe placed one in another, and thus formed him a breathing-hole, by\nwhich he sustained life, while the Tories sought in vain for his hiding\nplace.\n\nA more humble family, but one which did good service in the cause of\nliberty, was that of William Maybin. Maybin was taken prisoner, it was\nsupposed, at Sumter's surprise, on Fishing Creek, August, 1780. He was\ncarried to Charleston, and died in one of those charnel-houses of\nfreedom, a prison-ship. Here, just as he was dying, he was discovered by\nhis wife's brother, Benjamin Duncan, a soldier in the British army, who\nobtained permission to bring his corpse on shore for burial. Duncan then\nvisited his bereaved sister, and, after a short stay, returned to his\nduty, promising, as soon as possible, to come back and provide for her\nand his other sister, a married woman. As a pledge, he left with her his\nwatch, and some other articles. The news of this valuable deposit was\nsoon spread among the loyalists; it was rumored that the watch was of\ngold, falsely, for it was a silver one. Spoil was ever first in the\nthoughts of many of those guilty traitors; and two marauders soon came\nto the house of the widow and orphans. They demanded the watch,\nthreatening to take the lives of the helpless women and children, if it\nwas not delivered. Mrs. Maybin, anxious only, like a true mother, for\nthe safety of her children, fled to the woods, leaving her sister to\ncontend alone with the ruffians. She succeeded in baffling their\ncupidity. They did not find the watch, although it was hidden under the\nhead of the bed. It became the property of Maybin's son, who valued it\nas a memento of the courage of his aunt.\n\nThis family had their full share of trial and privation. When Rawdon's\narmy pursued General Greene on his retreat from Ninety-six, they\nencamped about a week at Colonel Glenn's Mills, on the Enoree. They then\nmarched through the Fork, and crossed at Lisle's Ford. On this march,\nthe soldiers plundered everything on their way. The only piece of meat\nshe had left for her family, and which she had hidden on the wood-beams\nof the house, was found and taken away. A small gray mare, called\n\"Dice,\" her only beast, was also stolen, but was afterward recovered.\nThis disgraceful foray, had, it is said, the sanction of Lord Rawdon.\n\nOn another occasion, a Tory visited Mrs. Maybin's cabin, and finding a\npiece of homespun in her loom, cut it out and bore it away as a prize.\nThe wretch who could look upon the almost naked children of a poor\nwidow, and take from her the means of a scanty covering, did not,\nhowever, escape. Little Ephraim Lyle, afterward met him, and, finding\nthe cloth upon his legs in a pair of leggins, inflicted upon him a\nsevere drubbing, and forced him to relinquish the spoil.\n\nHorrible, truly, were these sufferings and privations, but far more real\nthan the trials of fortitude to which some \"leading citizens\" were\nsubjected.\n\nJohn Clark, settled on the Enoree, near the place now called Clarke's\nFord. He was a staunch and zealous Whig during the war. In a skirmish at\nthe ford, under the command of Captain Jones, he was shot through the\nleg, and with difficulty escaped to a bluff a mile distant. To this\nplace the enemy traced him, by his blood, and took him prisoner. His\nmother furnished him with a bit of salve, and a piece of cloth to draw\nand bind up his wound. His captors compelled him to mount a very poor\nhorse, and ride him, with nothing to separate him from the animal's\nsharp backbone but an old bed-quilt, which his mother had given him from\nher own scanty covering. With his feet bound under the _garron_, he was\ncompelled to ride, in great and increasing agony, more than forty miles,\nto Ninety-six. There he was cast into prison, in his wounded condition,\nin the midst of poor fellows suffering under a virulent type of\nsmall-pox. He was the tenth sufferer, and marvelously recovered, was\nliberated, made his way home, and lived long after the close of the\nrevolutionary struggle. His descendants are still to be found in\nNewberry district.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n Brady's Leap.\u2014_Page_ 43.\n]\n\n\n\n\n BRADY'S LEAP.\n\n\nCaptain Samuel Brady was the Daniel Boone of Ohio, and was as efficient\nin the settlement of that State as his illustrious cotemporary was in\nestablishing the domain of the white man in the State of Kentucky. He\nentered the army at the commencement of our Revolutionary struggle, and\nwas engaged at the siege of Boston, as well as in many other important\ncontests, during the war for independence. He was a Lieutenant under\nWayne at the massacre of Paoli, when that officer was surprised, and the\ngreater portion of his command cut to pieces and destroyed in cold\nblood. Toward the close of the war, he was Captain of a corps of rangers\nat Fort Pitt, under General Brodhead, and rendered effectual service\nagainst the Indians, who were in league with the British. He had lost a\nfather and brother at the hands of the red-skins, and swore to take a\nterrible revenge.\n\nTo a mind fertile in expedient, and quick as a flash of light in its\ndeliberations, he added a frame well-knit, though slight, and a\nconstitution of iron mold. He was an Indian-fighter _con amore_, and the\ngreater portion of his time was spent in the war-path. Many are the\ndeeds of daring and thrilling adventure related of him. A volume might\nbe written embracing the adventures and hair-breadth escapes of the\ngallant Captain; but, in common with an immense mass of unwritten\ntradition equally valuable and interesting, they are fast being\nforgotten and buried in the graves of the past generation.\n\nOn one occasion, while out with a small party of his rangers in pursuit\nof the Indians, he had gone as far as Slippery Rock Creek, a branch of\nBeaver River, in Western Pennsylvania, without seeing any signs of his\nfoe. Here, however, he struck upon a fresh trail, which led up the\ncreek, and he hastened in pursuit of the savages, who were some distance\nin advance. He followed the trail until evening, when he was obliged to\nwait the return of daylight before he could pursue it further. At the\nearliest dawn he started afresh, and without stopping to break his fast,\nhe hurried on, bent on coming up with the enemy before they could reach\ntheir towns. His precipitancy had nearly cost him his life, for although\nthe party in front did not dream of his proximity, yet a body of\nwarriors, far outnumbering his own small band, had discovered _his_\ntrail, and were following it with as much avidity as he was pursuing\ntheir comrades.\n\nBrady discovered those in front, just as they were finishing their\nmorning meal and preparing to renew their journey. Placing his men in\nsuch a manner as to intercept them, should any attempt to escape, at a\ngiven signal they delivered a close and well-directed volley, and\nstarted up to rush upon the enemy with their tomahawks, when the band in\ntheir rear fired upon them in turn, taking them completely by surprise,\nkilling two of their number, and throwing the remainder into confusion.\nFinding himself thus between two fires, and vastly outnumbered, there\nwas nothing left but flight; and Brady, directing his men to look out\nfor themselves, started off at his topmost speed in the direction of the\ncreek.\n\nThe Indians had a long and heavy account to settle with him, however,\nand deemed this the opportunity to wipe it out with his blood. For this\npurpose they desired to secure him alive, and fifty red-skins,\nregardless of the others, who had scattered in every direction, dropped\ntheir rifles and followed him. The Indians knew the ground, Brady did\nnot, and they felt secure of their victim when they saw him run toward\nthe creek, which was at this point a wide, deep, and rapid stream. A\nyell of triumph broke from them as he arrived at the bank and\ncomprehended his desperate situation. There was apparently no escape,\nand for a moment the Captain felt that his time had come. It was but for\nan instant, however. He well knew the fate which awaited him should he\nfall into the hands of his enemies, and this reflection nerved him to a\ndeed which, perhaps, in his calmer moments, he would have found himself\nincapable of performing. Gathering all his force into one mighty effort,\nas he approached the brink of the stream, and clinging with a death-grip\nto his trusty rifle, he sprung across the chasm through which the stream\nrun, and landed safely upon the other side, with his rifle in his hand.\nQuick as thought, his piece was primed, and he commenced to reload. His\nfeet had barely made their imprint upon the soft, yielding soil of the\nwestern bank, before his place was filled by the brawny form of a\nwarrior, who, having been foremost in the pursuit, now stood amazed as\nhe contemplated the gap over which the Captain had passed. With a\nfrankness which seemed not to undervalue the achievement of an enemy,\nthe savage, in tolerable good English, exclaimed: \"Blady make good jump!\nBlady make very good jump!\" His conflicting emotions of regret at the\nescape of his intended victim, and admiration of the deed by which that\nescape had been accomplished, did not hinder the discovery that Brady\nwas engaged in loading his piece; and he did not feel assured but that\nhis compliment would be returned from the muzzle of the Captain's rifle.\nHe incontinently took to his heels as he discovered the latter ramming\nhome the bullet, which might the next moment be searching out a vital\npart in his dusky form; and his erratic movements showed that he\nentertained no mean idea of his enemy's skill at sharp-shooting. The\noutline of the most intricate field fortification would convey but a\nslight idea of the serpentine course he pursued, until satisfied that he\nwas out of rifle shot. Sometimes leaping in the air, at others squatting\nsuddenly on his haunches, and availing himself of every shelter, he\nevinced a lively fear, which doubtless had its origin in a previous\nknowledge of the fatal accuracy of the Captain's aim. Brady had other\nviews, however, and was not disposed to waste time and powder upon a\nsingle enemy, when surrounded by hundreds, and when the next moment an\nempty barrel might cost him his life; and while the savage was still\ndisplaying his agility on the opposite bank, he darted into the woods,\nand made his way to a rendezvous previously fixed upon, where he met the\nremainder of his party, and they took their way for home, not more than\nhalf defeated. It was not a great while before they were again on the\nwar-path, in search of further adventures.\n\nBrady afterward visited the spot, and, out of curiosity, he measured the\nstream at the place where he jumped, and found it to measure\ntwenty-three feet from shore to shore, and the water to be twenty feet\ndeep.\n\nA similar incident is related of Brady in the \"Historical Collections of\nOhio,\" as having occurred on the banks of the Cuyahoga, in which it is\nstated that, as he was crawling up the opposite bank, the Indians fired\nupon him, and wounded him in the hip, but he managed to stanch the wound\nand escape, by hiding himself in the hollow trunk of a tree until the\nsearch for him was over, when he crawled out, and, after incredible\nhardship and fatigue, arrived safe at his quarters. The two stories may\nhave had their origin in the same occurrence, but the details are so\ndissimilar, except in the distance, which is in both cases about\ntwenty-three feet, that it is possible, nay, more than probable, that\nthe Captain was called upon to exert his great powers on two separate\noccasions to save himself from the torture or the stake.\n\nAt the time of this famous occurrence, Brady was under orders from\nGeneral Brodhead. The Indians did not return that season to do any\ninjury to the whites; and early that fall, moved off to their friends,\nthe British, who had to keep them all winter, their corn having been\ndestroyed by Brodhead.\n\nWhen the General found the Indians were gone, at the suggestion of\nBrady, three companies were ordered out, with a sufficient number of\npack-horses, to kill game for the supply of the garrison. These\ncompanies were commanded by Captains Harrison, Springer and Brady. Game\nwas very plenty, for neither whites nor Indians ventured to hunt, and\ngreat quantities were put up.\n\nIn putting up his tent, Captain Brady's tomahawk had slipped and cut his\nknee, by which he was lamed for some time. This occasioned him to remain\nat the tents until he got well, which afforded him the opportunity of\nwitnessing some of the peculiar superstitions of his Indian allies, for\nhe had his Indians and their families along with him.\n\nOne of these Indians had assumed the name of Wilson. The Captain was\nlying in his tent one afternoon, and observed his man, Wilson, coming\nhome in a great hurry, and that, as he met his squaw, he gave her a\nkick, without saying a word, and begun to unbreech his gun. The squaw\nwent away, and returned soon after, with some roots, which she had\ngathered; and, after washing them clean, she put them into a kettle to\nboil. While boiling, Wilson corked up the muzzle of his gun, and stuck\nthe breech into the kettle, and continued it there until the plug flew\nout of the muzzle. He then took it out and put it into the stock. Brady,\nknowing the Indians were very \"superstitious,\" as we call it, did not\nspeak to him until he saw him wiping his gun. He then called to him, and\nasked what was the matter. Wilson came to the Captain, and said, in\nreply, that his gun had been very sick\u2014that she could not shoot; he had\nbeen just giving her a vomit, and she was now well. Whether the vomit\nhelped the gun, or only strengthened Wilson's nerves, the Captain could\nnot tell, but he averred that Wilson killed ten deer the next day.\n\nBeaver Valley was the scene of many of Captain Brady's stirring\nadventures. We have heard from many of the older citizens their accounts\nof his thrilling exploits. They speak in unbounded terms of admiration\nof his daring and success; his many hair-breadth escapes by \"field and\nflood;\" and always concluded by declaring that he was a greater man than\nDaniel Boone or Lewis Wetzel, either of whom, in the eyes of the old\npioneers, were the very embodiment of dare-devilism.\n\nThe following, illustrating one of Brady's adventures in the region\nreferred to, we give from a published source. In one of his trapping and\nhunting excursions, he was surprised and taken prisoner by Indians who\nhad closely watched his movements.\n\n\"To have shot or tomahawked him would have been but a small\ngratification to that of satiating their revenge by burning him at a\nslow fire, in presence of all the Indians of their village. He was,\ntherefore, taken alive to their encampment, on the west bank of the\nBeaver River, about a mile and a half from its mouth. After the usual\nexultations and rejoicings at the capture of a noted enemy, and causing\nhim to run the gauntlet, a fire was prepared, near which Brady was\nplaced, after being stripped, and with his arms unbound. Previous to\ntying him to the stake, a large circle was formed around of Indian men,\nwomen and children, dancing and yelling, and uttering all manner of\nthreats and abuses that their small knowledge of the English language\ncould afford. The prisoner looked on these preparations for death and on\nhis savage foe with a firm countenance and a steady eye, meeting all\ntheir threats with truly savage fortitude. In the midst of their dancing\nand rejoicing, a squaw of one of their chiefs came near him with a child\nin her arms. Quick as thought, and with intuitive prescience, he\nsnatched it from her, and threw it into the midst of the flames.\nHorror-stricken at the sudden outrage, the Indians simultaneously rushed\nto rescue the infant from the fire. In the midst of this confusion,\nBrady darted from the circle, overturning all that came in his way, and\nrushed into the adjacent thicket, with the Indians yelling at his heels.\nHe ascended the steep side of a hill amid a shower of bullets, and\ndarting down the opposite declivity, secreted himself in the deep\nravines and laurel thickets that abound for several miles in the West.\nHis knowledge of the country and wonderful activity enabled him to elude\nhis enemies, and reach the settlements in safety.\"\n\nShortly after he entered the service of General Broadhead, he was sent,\non a scout, as far west as Sandusky. Captain Brady was not insensible to\nthe danger, or ignorant of the difficulty of the enterprise. But he saw\nthe anxiety of the father of his country to procure information that\ncould only be obtained by this perilous mode, and knew its importance.\nHis own danger was an inferior consideration. The appointment was\naccepted, and, selecting a few soldiers, and four Chickasaw Indians as\nguides, he crossed the Allegany river, and was at once in the enemy's\ncountry.\n\nIt was in May, 1780, that he commenced his march. The season was\nuncommonly wet. Every considerable stream was swollen; neither road,\nbridge nor house facilitated their march, or shielded their repose. Part\nof their provision was picked up by the way, as they crept, rather than\nmarched through the wilderness by night, and lay concealed in its\nbranches by day. The slightest trace of his movement, the print of a\nwhite man's foot on the sand of a river, might have occasioned the\nextermination of the party. Brady was versed in all the wiles of Indian\n\"strategy,\" and, dressed in the full war dress of an Indian warrior, and\nwell acquainted with their languages, he led his band in safety near to\nthe Sandusky towns, without seeing a hostile Indian.\n\nThe night before he reached Sandusky he saw a fire, approached it, and\nfound two squaws reposing beside it. He passed on without molesting\nthem. But his Chickasaws now deserted. This was alarming, for it was\nprobable they had gone over to the enemy. However, he determined to\nproceed. With a full knowledge of the horrible death that awaited him if\ntaken prisoner, he passed on, until he stood beside the town, and on the\nbank of the river.\n\nHis first care was to provide a place of concealment for his men. When\nthis was effected, having selected one man as the companion of his\nfuture adventures, he waded the river to an island partially covered\nwith driftwood, opposite the town, where he concealed himself and\ncomrade for the night.\n\nIn constancy of purpose, in cool, deliberate courage, the Captain of the\nRangers will compare with any hero of this age, or any other. Neither\nbanner nor pennon waved over him. He was hundreds of miles in the heart\nof an enemy's country\u2014an enemy who, had they possessed it, would have\ngiven his weight in gold for the pleasure of burning him to death with a\nslow fire\u2014adding to his torments, both mental and physical, every\ningredient that savage ingenuity could supply.\n\nWho that has poetry of feeling, or feeling of poetry, but must pause\nover such a scene, and, in imagination, contemplate its features! The\nmurmuring river; the sylvan landscape; as each was gazed upon by that\nlonely, but dauntless warrior, in the still midnight hour.\n\nThe next morning a dense fog spread over hill and dale, town and river.\nAll was hid from Brady's eyes, save the logs and brush around him. About\neleven o'clock it cleared off, and afforded him a view of about three\nthousand Indians, engaged in the amusements of the race ground.\n\nThey had just returned from Virginia or Kentucky with some very fine\nhorses. One gray horse in particular attracted his notice. He won every\nrace until near evening, when, as if envious of his speed, two riders\nwere placed on him, and thus he was beaten. The starting post was only a\nfew rods above where Brady lay, and he had a pretty fair chance of\nenjoying the amusement, without the risk of losing any thing by betting\non the race.\n\nHe made such observation through the day as was in his power, waded out\nfrom the island at night, collected his men, went to the Indian camp he\nhad seen as he came out; the squaws were still there; he took them\nprisoners, and continued his march homeward.\n\nThe map furnished by General Broadhead was found to be defective. The\ndistance was represented to be much less than it really was. The\nprovisions and ammunition of the men were exhausted by the time they got\nto the Big Beaver, on their return. Brady shot an otter, but could not\neat it. The last load was in his rifle. They arrived at an old\nencampment, and found plenty of strawberries, which they stopped to\nappease their hunger with. Having discovered a deer track, Brady\nfollowed it, telling the men he would perhaps get a shot at it. He had\ngone but a few rods when he saw the deer standing broadside to him. He\nraised his rifle and attempted to fire, but it flashed in the pan, and\nhe had not a priming of powder. He sat down, picked the touch-hole, and\nthen started on. After going a short distance the path made a bend, and\nhe saw before him a large Indian on horseback, with a white child\nbefore, and its captive mother behind him on the horse, and a number of\nwarriors marching in the rear. His first impulse was to shoot the Indian\non horseback, but, as he raised his rifle, he observed the child's head\nto roll with the motion of the horse. It was fast asleep, and tied to\nthe Indian. He stepped behind the root of a tree, and waited until he\ncould shoot the Indian, without danger to the child or its mother.\n\nWhen he considered the chance certain, he shot the Indian, who fell from\nhis horse, and the child and its mother fell with him. Brady called to\nhis men with a voice that made the forest ring, to surround the Indians\nand give them a general fire. He sprung to the fallen Indian's\npowder-horn, but could not pull it off. Being dressed like an Indian,\nthe woman thought he was one, and said:\n\n\"Why did you shoot your brother?\"\n\nHe caught up the child, saying:\n\n\"Jenny Stupes, I am Captain Brady; follow me, and I will secure you and\nyour child.\"\n\nHe caught her hand in his, carrying the child under the other arm, and\ndashed into the brush. Many guns were fired at him by this time, but no\nball harmed him, and the Indians, dreading an ambuscade, were glad to\nmake off. The next day he arrived at Fort McIntosh with the woman and\nher child. His men had got there before him. They had heard his\nwar-whoop, and knew it was Indians he had encountered, but, having no\nammunition, they had taken to their heels, and ran off. The squaws he\nhad taken at Sandusky, availing themselves of the panic, had also made\ntheir escape.\n\nIn those days Indian fashions prevailed, in some measure, with the\nwhites, at least with rangers. Brady was desirous of seeing the Indian\nhe had shot, and the officer in command of Fort McIntosh gave him some\nmen in addition to his own, and he returned to search for the body. The\nplace where lie had fallen was discovered, but nothing more. No pains\nwere spared to search, but the body was not found. They were about to\nleave the place, when the yell of a _pet_ Indian, that came with them\nfrom the fort, called them to a little glade, where the grave was\ndiscovered. The Indians had interred their dead brother there, carefully\nreplacing the sod in the neatest manner. They had also cut brushes and\nstuck them into the ground, but the brushes had withered, and instead of\nconcealing the grave, they led to the discovery.\n\nHe was buried about two feet deep, with all his implements of war about\nhim.\n\nAll his savage jewelry, his arms and ammunition were taken from him, and\nthe scalp from his head, and then they left him, thus stripped, alone in\nhis grave. It is painful to think of such things being done by American\nsoldiers, but we cannot now know all the excusing circumstances that may\nhave existed at the time. Perhaps the husband of this woman, the father\nof this child, was thus butchered before his wife and children; and the\nyounger members of the family, unable to bear the fatigues of traveling,\nhad their brains dashed out on the threshold. Such things were common,\nand a spirit of revenge was deeply seated in the breasts of the people\nof the frontiers. Captain Brady's own family had heavily felt the\nmerciless tomahawk. His brave and honored father, and a beloved brother,\nhad been treacherously slain by the Indians, and he had vowed vengeance.\n\nAfter refreshing himself and men, they went up to Pittsburg by water,\nwhere they were received with military honors. Minute guns were fired\nfrom the time Brady came in sight until he landed.\n\nThe Chickasaw Indians had returned to Pittsburg, and reported that the\nCaptain and his party had been cut off near Sandusky town by the\nIndians. When General Broadhead heard this, he said Brady was an\naspiring young man, and had solicited the command. But on Brady's\narrival in Pittsburg, the General acknowledged that the Captain had\naccepted the command with much diffidence.\n\nA few days after Brady had left Sandusky with his squaw prisoners,\nkeeping a sharp look-out in expectation of being pursued, and taking\nevery precaution to avoid pursuit, such as keeping on the dryest ridges,\nand walking on logs whenever they suited his course, he found he was\nfollowed by Indians. His practised eye would occasionally discover in\nthe distance, an Indian hopping to or from a tree, or other screen, and\nadvancing on his trail. After being satisfied of the fact, he stated it\nto his men, and told them no Indian could thus pursue him, after the\nprecautions he had taken, without a dog on his track.\n\n\"I will stop,\" said Brady, \"and shoot the dog, and then we can get along\nbetter.\"\n\nHe selected the root of a tall chestnut tree which had fallen westward,\nfor his place of ambush. He walked from the west end of the tree or log\nto the east, and sat down in the pit made by the raising of the root. He\nhad not been long there when a small slut mounted the log at the west\nend, and, with her nose to the trunk, approached him. Close behind her\nfollowed a plumed warrior. Brady had his choice. He preferred shooting\nthe slut, which he did; she rolled off the log, stone dead, and the\nwarrior, with a loud whoop, sprung into the woods and disappeared. He\nwas followed no further.\n\nMany of Captain Brady's adventures occurred at periods of which no\ncertainty as to dates can now be had. The following is of that class:\n\nHis success as a partisan had acquired for him its usual\nresults\u2014approbation with some, and envy with others. Some of his brother\nofficers censured the Commandant for affording him such frequent\nopportunities for honorable distinction. At length an open complaint was\nmade, accompanied by a request, in the nature of a demand, that others\nshould be permitted to share with Brady the perils and honors of the\nservice, abroad from the fort. The General apprised Brady of what had\npassed, who readily acquiesced in the proposed arrangement; and an\nopportunity was not long wanting for testing its efficiency.\n\nThe Indians made an inroad into the Sewickly settlement, committing the\nmost barbarous murders of men, women, and children; stealing such\nproperty as was portable, and destroying all else. The alarm was brought\nto Pittsburg, and a party of soldiers under the command of the emulous\nofficers dispatched for the protection of the settlement, and\nchastisement of the foe. From this expedition Brady was, of course,\nexcluded; but the restraint was irksome to his feelings.\n\nThe day after the detachment had marched, he solicited permission from\nthe commander to take a small party for the purpose of \"catching the\nIndians,\" but was refused. By dint of importunity, however, he at length\nwrung from him a reluctant consent, and the command of five men; to this\nhe added his _pet_ Indian, and made hasty preparation.\n\nInstead of moving toward Sewickly, as the first detachment had done, he\ncrossed the Alleghany at Pittsburg, and proceeded up the river.\nConjecturing that the Indians had descended the stream in canoes, till\nnear the settlement; he was careful to examine the mouths of all creeks\ncoming into it, particularly from the Southeast. At the mouth of Big\nMahoning, about six miles above Kittanning, the canoes were seen drawn\nup to its western bank. He instantly retreated down the river, and\nwaited for night. As soon as it was dark, he made a raft, and crossed to\nthe Kittanning side. He then proceeded up the creek, and found that the\nIndians had, in the meantime, crossed the creek, as their canoes were\ndrawn to its upper or north-eastern bank.\n\nThe country on both sides of Mahoning, at its mouth, is rough and\nmountainous, and the stream, which was then high, very rapid. Several\nineffectual attempts were made to wade it, which they at length\nsucceeded in doing, three or four miles above the canoes. Next, a fire\nwas made, their clothing dried, and arms inspected; and the party moved\ntoward the Indian camp, which was pitched on the second bank of the\nriver. Brady placed his men at some distance on the lower or first bank.\n\nThe Indians had brought from Sewickly a stallion, which they had\nfettered and turned to pasture on the lower bank. An Indian, probably\nthe owner, under the _law of arms_, came frequently down to him, and\noccasioned the party no little trouble. The horse, too, seemed willing\nto keep their company, and it required considerable circumspection to\navoid all intercourse with either. Brady became so provoked that he had\na strong inclination to tomahawk the Indian, but his calmer judgment\nrepudiated the act, so likely to put to hazard a more decisive and\nimportant achievement.\n\nAt length the Indians seemed quiet, and the Captain determined to pay\nthem a closer visit, which he succeeded in doing, then returned, posted\nhis men, and in the deepest silence all awaited the break of day. When\nit appeared, the Indians arose and stood around their fires, exulting\ndoubtless in the scalps they had taken, the plunder they had acquired,\nand the injuries they had inflicted on their enemies. Precarious joy!\nshort-lived triumph! the avenger of blood was beside them. At a signal\ngiven, seven rifles cracked, and five Indians were dead ere they fell.\nBrady's well-known war-cry was heard, his party were among them, and\ntheir rifles (mostly empty) were all secured. The remaining Indians\ninstantly fled and disappeared. One was pursued by the trace of his\nblood, which he seems to have succeeded in staunching. The pet Indian\nthen imitated the cry of a young wolf, which was answered by the wounded\nman, and the pursuit was again renewed. A second time the wolf cry was\ngiven and answered, and the pursuit continued into a windfall. Here he\nmust have espied his pursuers, for he answered no more. Brady found his\nremains three weeks afterwards, being led to the place by ravens that\nwere preying on the carcass.\n\nThe horse was unfettered, the plunder gathered, and the party commenced\ntheir return to Pittsburg, most of them descending in the Indian canoes.\n\nThree days after their return, the first detachment came in. They\nreported that they had followed the Indians closely, but that the latter\nhad got into their canoes and made their escape.\n\nCaptain Brady married a daughter of Captain Van Swearengen, of Ohio\nCounty, who bore him two children, John and Van S., both of whom are\nstill living. He possessed all the elements of a brave and successful\nsoldier. Like Marion, \"he consulted with all his men respectfully, heard\nthem patiently, weighed their suggestions, and silently approached his\nown conclusions. They knew his determination only by his actions.\" Brady\nhad but few superiors as a woodsman; he would strike out into the heart\nof the wilderness, and with no guide, but the sun by day, and the stars\nby night, or in their absence, then by such natural marks as the barks\nand tops of trees he would move on steadily, in a direct line toward the\npoint of his destination. He always avoided beaten paths and the borders\nof streams; and never was known to leave his track behind him. In this\nmanner he eluded pursuit, and defied detection. He was often vainly\nhunted by his own men, and was more likely to find them, than they him.\n\n\n\n\n TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES\n\n\n 1. Many of the entries in the Contents are not actually references to\n chapters. They are more like index listings.\n 2. Correct many page number errors in the list of Illustrations, e.g.\n corrected \"DEBORAH, THE MAIDEN WARRIOR\" from p. 99 to p. 89.\n 3. The page numbers in the illustration captions refer to the page\n within the section instead of the book page number.\n 4. Silently corrected simple spelling, grammar, and typographical\n errors.\n 5. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed.\n 6. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.","title":"Tales, Traditions and Romance of Border and Revolutionary Times","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":126320}