/fr TALES, TRADITIONS AND ROMANCE OP IB O R D AND REVOLUTIONARY TIMES. BY EDWARD S. ELLIS. 3STJKW YORK : BEADLE AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS, 118 WILLIAM STREET- Entered according to Act of Congress, in the Year 1864, by BEADLE AND COMPANY, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. PBEFACE. IN this volume we offer the reader a combination of two of the most fascinating qualities which a book can possess. It is almost strictly historical, and yet as marvelous as the most romantic fiction. The sketches and incidents here gath ered are all authenticated ; yet many of them, in their won derful interest and pathos, exceed the bounds of fancy. They belong to two classes : those which are connected with the Revolution, and those which chronicle the peculiar events of our Frontier History. While they will absorb the attention of the most intelligent reader, they are charmingly adapted to attract young people, who will be both instructed and de lighted. Boys will find examples worthy of emulation, and will learn to appreciate those traits of character which made the glory and the progress of our young republic ; while girls may gain dignity of mind by contemplating the devotion, courage and endurance of the women of those days. An insight will be afforded into the customs of the Indians, and into the manner of life of the early settlers, whose dangers and difficulties, privations and calamities, are almost incredible. Many of the most thrilling events in our national history are herein related, along with the fearless adventures of our brave pioneers, and the perils and catastrophes which befel the families of those whose protectors were absent on the field cf battle, or whose cabins failed to find sufficient defense in the rifles of their owners. IV PREFACE. The reader will linger over these pages, thrilled by the consciousness that the scenes so vividly brought before him are real a living, abiding part of our existence as a people. The "storied Rhine" and "classic Italy" are laid and over laid thickly with traditions which give a vague interest to soil, ruin, mountain and sky. We, also, have our traditions different in kind, but of wild and marvelous interest and the day shall come when the banks of the fair Ohio, the blue Muskingum, the picturesque Allegany, the noble Mississippi, shall be trodden by reverent feet, while the thoughts of the traveler speed back to the days of the lurking red-man and the bold ranger. It is no mean duty of the chronicler to treasure up the threads of a thousand little facts, and weave them into a web which shall perpetuate them for the future. The publishers believe that this volume will not only be a favorite in the hands of men, young and old, but will have its appropriate place by the fireside. CONTENTS. Abduction of General Wadsworth, 236 Anecdotes of an early settler of Kentucky, - - - 61 Anecdotes of juvenile heroism, - 202 Anecdotes of Washington, - 111 A remarkable hunting excursion, 133 Big Joe Logston's struggle with an Indian, .... 69 Boquet's expedition into Indian territory, 277 Brady's leap, .....----. 363 Brandt and the boy, 32 Brave deeds of Logan, - 245 British atrocities during the Revolution, 340 Captain Hubbell's adventure on the Ohio, - 123 Captain John Sevier, 313 Captivity of Jonathan Alder, - - 270 Close quarters with a rattlesnake, 141 Colonel Horry, of Marion's brigade, ------ 143 Davy Crockett's adventure with a cougar, - - - - 56 Deborah Sampson, the maiden warrior, ----- 82 Dick Moxon's fight with the deer, 187 Downing's remarkable escape from an Indian, - - - - 120 Elerson's twenty-five mile race, - - - - - - 160 Ethan Allen, a prisoner of war, 229 Execution of Colonel Isaac Hayne, 335 Female characters of the Revolution, 175 General Dale's adventure, 310 Harrison's invasion of Canada and death of Tecumseh, - - 219 Heroic death of Cornstalk, sachem of the Shawnees, - - - 252 Horrible atrocties by savages, 264 Horrible cruelties by British troops, 297 Horsewhipping a tyrant, 223 Interesting anecdotes of Mrs. Fisher's courage, - - - - 352 John Minter's bear fight, 53 Joseph Bettys' bloody career, 291 Major Robert Rogers' adventure, 308 Vi CONTENTS. Marvelous escape of Weatherford, --.-.. 309 Miss Sherrill's flight to the fort, 314 Molly Pitcher at Monmouth, 172 Moody, the refugee, - 286 Morgan's prayer, ---------- 100 Mrs. Austin and the bear, 48 Mrs. Slocumb at Moore's Creek, ' - 347 Murphy saving the fort, 18 Nathan Hale's arrest and execution, 341 Proctor's massacre at River Basin, 212 Bargeant Jasper's adventures in the British camp, - 153 Sargeant Jasper and the young Creole girl, - 88 Simon Girty's attack on Bryant Station, 317 Simon Kenton and his Indian torture-ride, ... - 5 Spirited adventures of a young married couple, - - - 350 Tecumseh saving the prisoners, - .... 309 The Baroness de Reidsel, . . - - 183 The chieftain's appeal, 325 The Grand Tower massacre, - - - - ' - 76 The implacable governor, - - The Johnson boys killing their captors, - 116 The leap for life, - - 300 The little sentinel, 197 The mother's trial, - - 242 The women defending the wagon, 261 Thrilling anecdotes of women of the Revolution, 93 "William Kennan's flight from thirty Indians, - - - - 165 ILLUSTEATIOIsrS. SIMON KENTON'S TORTURE-RIDE, - - - - . - 3 MURPHY SAYING THE FORT, - 25 BRANT AND YOUNG M'KOWN, 33 MRS. AUSTIN AND THE BEAR, .... 49 JOE LOGSTON'S ENCOUNTER WITH AN INDIAN, - 66 DEBORAH, THE MAIDEN WARRIOR, .... 99 GENERAL MORGAN'S PRAYER, 104 JOHNSON BOYS KILLING THEIR CAPTORS, - - 121 SWEATLAND'S HUNTING ADVENTURE, - 130 COLONEL HORRY'S EXPLOITS, .... 145 ELERSON'S TWENTY-FIVE MILE RACE, - - 161 MOLLY PITCHER AT MONMOUTH, - - - - - 178 THE LITTLE SENTINEL, - - - - - - - 194 TECUMSEH SAVING THE PRISONERS, 217 HORSEWHIPPING A TYRANT, 232 THE MOTHER'S TRIAL, .... 249 WOMEN DEFENDING THE WAGON, 257 CAPTIVITY OF JONATHAN ALDER, 272 MOODY, THE REFUGEE, - - - - - - 288 THE LEAP FOR LIFE, - 304 THE CHIEFTAIN'S APPEAL, 321 THE IMPLACABLE GOVERNOR, .... 337 MRS. SLOCUMB AT MOORE'S CREEK, .... 353 BRADY'S LEAP, 361 T A. L E S, TKADITIONS AND ROMANCE OF BORDER AND REVOLUTIONARY TIMES. SIMON KENTON. MURPHY SAVINGS THE FORT. BRANT AND THE BOY. MRS. AUSTIN AND THE BEAR. BEADLE AND COMPANY, NEW YORK: 118 WILLIAM STREET LONDON : 44 PATERNOSTER ROW. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by BEADLE AND COMPANY, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. SIMON KENTON, AND HIS TOKTURE-HIDE FOKEMOST among the wild and terrific scenes which arise before our startled eyes when we turn the pages of border warfare, is the ride of Simon Ken ton not that the cruelty of its devisers was so atrocious, nor the final results so dreadful, as in many other instances ; but the novelty, the unique savageness of the affair, strikes upon the imagination, as if it were one of those thrilling stories related of ages and people which never were, instead of an event that actually oc curred to one of our own countrymen in one of our own territories. In the early light of morning breaking through the trees which sur round them, a group of Indians are preparing to resume their march, after a night of repose. They have with them a solitary prisoner. Corraled about them are numbers of horses, the recovery of which has been the object of the expedition. Before these are released and the day's march resumed, the prisoner must be disposed of. While his captors are deciding this important matter, we will discover who he is and what has brought him into his present state. About the first of September, 1778, Simon Kenton the friend and younger coadjutor of Boone, who had been with the latter for some lime at Boonesborough Station, employed in protecting the surround ing country, and engaging in occasional skirmishes with the Indians becoming tired of a temporary inactivity which his habits of life rendered insupportable, determined to have another adventure with the Indians. For this purpose he associated with Alex. Montgomery and George Clark, to go on an expedition for stealing horses from the Shawnees. 5 6 TALES AND TRADITIONS. The three brave scouts reached old Chilicothe without meeting with any thing exciting. There they fell in with a drove of Indian horses, feeding on the rich prairie, and securing seven of the drove, started on their return. Reaching the Ohio, they found the river lashed into fury by a hurricane, and the horses refused to cross. Here w/is an unlooked-for dilemma. It was evening ; they felt sure of being pursued ; no time was to be lost. As the only resource, they rode back to the hills, hobbled the animals, and then retraced their steps to see if they were followed. Finding as yet no signs of pur- suit^ they took what rest their anxiety would allow them. The next morning, the wind having subsided, they sought their horses and again attempted to cross the river, but with the same result ; the horses, from fright, refused to take to the water, and they were driven to the alternative of parting with them. Selecting each one of the best, they turned the others loose, and started for the Falls of the Ohio, (now just below Louisville) ; but disliking thus to abandon the fruits of their expedition, they unwisely returned again, to attempt to retake and lead the others. This was by no means an easy task, and while engaged in the endeavor, they were surprised by a party of mounted savages, who had followed their trail with vengeful per tinacity. The whites were separated ; and Kenton, hearing a whoop in the direction of his comrades, dismounted, creeping cautiously in the direction of the sound, to discover, if possible, the force of the enemy. Dragging himself forward on his hands and knees, he came suddenly upon several Indians, who did not discover him at the moment. Being surrounded, and thinking the boldest game the best, he took aim at the foremost and pulled trigger, but his gun missed fire. This, of course, discovered his position, and he was instantly pursued. Taking advantage of some fallen timber, he endeavored to elude his pursuers, by dodging them, and hiding in the under brush, where their horses could not follow ; but they were too cun ning, or rather too many for him. Dividing their forces and riding along either side the timber, they " beat it up," until, as he was emerging at the further end, he was confronted by one of the sav ages, who, the moment he discovered his white foe, threw himself from his horse and rushed upon Kenton with his tomahawk. Kenton drew back his arm to defend himself with the butt end of 6 THE TORTURE-HIDE OP SIMON KENTON. 7 his gun ; but as he was about to strike, another stalwart savage, whom he had not observed, seized him in his powerful grasp, pre venting the descending blow. He was now a prisoner, compelled to yield, with such grace as he could, to superior numbers. While they were binding him, his companion, Montgomery, made his appearance, firing at one of the savages, but missing his mark. He was immediately pursued ; in a few moments one of the pursuers returned, shaking the bloody scalp of his friend in Kenton's face. Clark succeeded in making his escape, and crossing the river, arrived in safety at Logan's Station. That night the Indians encamped on the banks of the river; in the morning they prepared to return with their unfortunate prisoner, who had passed an uneasy night, bound to the ground, and not knowing precisely what vengeance his enemies might be pleased to visit upon him. Some of them knew him well, and he realized that there were long scores to be wiped off against him. However, the red-man had a keen appreciation of bravery, and he did not antici pate any severer fate upon that account. Some little time elapsed before they succeeded in catching all their horses. The day had well advanced before they were ready to march, and the annoyance consequent upon this delay so exasperated them, that they determ ined to make their captive pay the full penalty of the trouble he had caused them. They therefore selected the wildest and most restive horse among their number, and proceeded to bind Ken ton upon his back. Their mode of proceeding was as follows : a rope was first passed round the under jaw of the horse, either end of which was held by an Indian ; yet even with this advantage, it required the assistance of others to control the vicious beast, which was determ ined not to receive its burden. Kenton was first seated upon the horse with his face toward the tail, and his feet tied together undtr the animal. Another rope confined his arms, drawing the prisoner down upon his back. A third, secured about his neck, was fastened to the horse's neck, thence extending longitudinally down his person to the animal's tail, where it was secured, and answered well for a crupper. In this way he was fastened to the wild and frantic steed, beyond the possibility of escape. To make the matter sure against contingencies, the now delighted savages passed another rope about 7 8 TALES AND TRADITIONS. his thighs, securing it to the one which served as a girth. They then fastened a pair of moccasins upon his hands to prevent his de fending his face. During the time they were thus preparing him for his Mazeppa-like ride, they taunted him by asking if he wanted to steal any more horses. They danced around him, yelped and screamed, and, in every possible manner, expressed their infernal delight at the anticipated sufferings of their victim. The heart of Simon Kenton seldom quailed before any danger ; but it must have been supernaturally strengthened not to have sickened during those moments of preparation and anticipation. To be bound to unspoken torture, which coutd end, at the last, only in death death long de ferred, perhaps into hours and days, whose every minute and second would be sharp with anguish to be so helpless to resist the evils which were sure to come, with the close rope strangling the breath in his throat whenever he attempted to raise his head to see the cru elties which he felt to add all the mental miseries of suspense to the horrible realities before him this was enough surely to shake even the sturdy spirit of the defiant pioneer. For a moment he was inclined to beg of his tormentors to tomahawk him then and there ; but he knew that such an appeal would gratify their malice while it would produce no other effect ; and he closed his lips tightly, re solved that they should enjoy no sign of fear or dismay to enhance their inhuman delight. One glance at the blue sky smiling down between the lightly-waving branches of the trees one scornful look into the demon-faces about him, and, for an instant, his eyes closed ; he felt like one falling from a precipice into terrific depths yawning to receive him. With stripes and demoniac yells they at length turned loose the almost savage horse, which was goaded to desperation by the tumult and the blows. The infuriated beast at once bounded away on its aimless, erratic course, anxious only to rid itself of its strange burden. " 'Twas scarcely yet the break of day, And on he foamed away ! away ! The last of human sounds which rose, As he was darted from his foes, Was the wild shout of savage laughter "Which on the wind came roaring after." THE '! ORTUItE-HIDE OP IMON KENTON. 9 Frantic with fright, the noble animal went careering through the woods, rearing and plunging in his madness, inflicting upon his tor tured rider countless wounds and blows as he endeavored to dash him against the trees, or rushed through the tangled brush, lacerat ing the flesh of both with innumerable thorns and briers. In one of the mad dashes which the horse gave through the unpitying for est, Kenton's arm came with such force against a tree that it was broken he knew it by iu becoming so limp and helpless, as well as from the knife-like pain which darted from it. The wretched man could only hope that the horse would some time tire ; that, wearied out with its useless efforts to free itself from its burden, it would subside into some quiet, which might give a moment's ease to his aching and mangled limbs ; but he hoped in vain ! " Each motion which he made to free His swollen limbs from their agony, Increased its fury and affright ; He tried his voice 't\vas faint and low, . But yet it swerved, as from a blow ; And, starting at each accent, sprang As from a sudden trumpet's clang. Meanwhile the cords were wet with gore, Which, oozing from his wounds, ran o'er; And on his tongue the thirst became A something fiercer far than flame." Oh, that horrible thirst which takes possession of the person suffer ing exquisite pain, until the torture seems to exceed that of the an guish which causes it. None but those who have experienced this extremity of mortal suffering can picture it ; none but those who have suffered the horrible pangs of thirst can sympathize with the unutterable pain which Simon Kenton endured for the next few hours. Yes, for hours ! The harassed steed, at length, with wasted strength and trembling limbs, returned to the point from which he had started, with his now almost inanimate rider, who must have sunk into insensibility long before, had not the fever of his pain kept him from that blessed relief. The hunter hoped that now he would either be killed outright, or relieved of his present position ; but such was not the intention of the red devils who had him in their power. Worn out with fatigue, and satisfied of his inability to rid himself of his unwelcome burden, the exhausted horse took his place in the 9 10 TALES AND TRADITTONP. cavalcade, which had already started for its home. The only mercy they vouchsafed the prisoner was to give him, twice or thrice, some water. His sufferings had on\y commenced death, in its worst form, would have been preferred to the ordeal through which he had yet to pass. To feel certain of death to count the lingering hours as they pass to know that each is but a step toward a certain doom- to fee. thj'.t doom impending day by day, and yet to see it postponed through miserable stretches of suffering to endure continually all the anguish of which the human frame is capable, and all {his time to know that hope has fled beyond recall that all this protracted agony must end in inevitable death, is too terrible to contemplate. All this Simon Kenton bore for three days and nights. It seems incredible that life should have held out so long ; but his previous training in the schools of endurance seemed only to have fitted him now to hold out through what no other man could have borne. Through three nights he lay in his cradle of anguish ; through three days he was racked by the motion of the animal which bore him ; and when the Indians reached their village, he was still alive. It had been the intention of the savages to procure his death by means of the wanton torture they had instituted ; but when he reached his destination alive, owing to some custom or superstition of their own, they delivered him over to the care of their squaws. These took him from the rack, bathed his disfigured body, set his broken arm, bandaged his wounds, made soothing and healing washes from the herbs of the forest, nourished him with drinks and food, and gradually restored him to health. Not only was his life saved, but his iron constitution remained unbroken by the fearful trial through which it had passed. As soon as his renewed strength warranted the attempt, he set about planning the mode of his escape, which he successfully accomplished, returning to the friends who hn 1 long since given him up for lost, to relate to their almost incredulous hearts the story of his sufferings. This remarkable episode is but one of countless adventures in which Simon Kenton was engaged. Our readers may hear from him again in scenes equally thrilling. He was, without doubt, one of the bravest and most interesting of the western pioneers ; he w?i exrclled by none, and scarcely equaled by his precursor, Druiicl 10 THE TORTURE-RIDE OP SIMON KENTON. 11 Boone. His biography, as far as it has been preserved, will be read with interest by all ; his name will never be forgotten in the valley of the great West. He was the coadjutor of Boone throughout the protracted struggle for the occupancy of the rich forests and prairies on either side of the Ohio. The almost incessant exposure and life of self-denial which these resolute adventurers endured can scarcely be appreciated by us of this generation who enjoy in peace the fruits of their sufferings. While the United States were British Colonies, and Kentucky and Ohio still were primeval in their solitudes, filled with Indians, and wholly destitute of white inhabitants, these two heroic men, Boone and Kenton, as if moved by the finger of Providence, left the shades of civilization, entire strangers to each other, and ventured into the midst of a boundless wilderness, neither having any knowledge of the purpose or movement of the other. Boone led the way from North Carolina, crossed the mountains, and entered the valley of Kentucky in 17G9 ; Kenton followed from Virginia, in 1773. The former emigrated from choice, to gratify his natural taste, after full deliberation, and after having calculated the consequences. Not so with Kenton ; he fled to the wilderness to escape the penalty of a supposed crime. He had, unfortunately, become involved in a quar rel with a young man of his neighborhood, with whom he had lived in habits of great intimacy and friendship, and, as he supposed, had killed him in a personal conflict. To avoid the consequences of that imaginary homicide, and to escape, if possible, from the distress of his own feelings, he left home and friends, without waiting to ascer tain the result. Unaccompanied by any human being, he crossed the mountains and descended into the valley of the Big Kanawh;), under the assumed name of Simon Butler. He retained that name several years, until he received information that the friend whom be supposed had fallen under his hand, had recovered from the blow, and was alive and in health. He then resumed his proper name, and disclosed the reason which had led him to assume that of But ler ; but a love for the wild life to which -he had exiled himself had now taken such strong hold of him that he made no effort to return to the ties from which he had so hastily fled. It is a matter of regret that so small a portion of the achievements 11 12 TALES AND TRADITIONS. of this interesting man have been perpetuated. This may be ac counted for by the fact that so large a portion of his life was spe:it in the wilderness, either in solitude, or associated with others of the same adventurous cast with himself; and it explains the reason why we are not only without a connected record of his life, but have so few of its isolated transactions preserved. It is known, however, that, after he joined the adventurers in the district of Kentucky, about two years before the Declaration of American Independence, he engaged in most of the battles and skirmishes between the white inhabitants and the savages which followed, during 1774 to 1783. He became an enterprising leader in most of the expeditions against the Indian towns north-west of the Ohio. These conflicts, indeed, continued during the long period of twenty years, intervening be tween their commencement and the decisive victory of " Mad Anthony " Wayne at the rapids of the Maumee, in August, 1794, which was followed by the celebrated treaty of Greenville, and peace to the afflicted border. Kenton was always considered one of the boldest and most active defenders of the western country, from the commencement of its settlement until the close of Indian hostili ties. In all their battles and expeditions he took a conspicuous part. He was taken prisoner several times and conveyed to the Sluuvnee towns, but in every instance he made his escape and returned to his friends. On one occasion he was captured when on an expedition against the Wabash (Miami) villages, and taken to one of the remote Indian towns, where a council was held to decide on his fate. Again he was fated to endure one of their cruel and peculiar modes of inflicting punishment. He was painted black, tied to a stake, and suffered to remain in this painful position for twenty-four hours, anticipating the horrors of a slow and cruel death, by starvation or fire. He was next condemned to run the gauntlet. The Indians, several hundred in number, of both sexes, and every age and rank, armed with switches, sticks, bludgeons and other implements of assault, were formed in two lines, between which the unhappy prisoner was made to pass ; being promised that, if he reached the door of the council- house, at the further end of the lines, no further punishment would be inflicted. He accordingly ran, with all the speed of which his 12 THE TORTUKK-U1DK OF SIMON KENTON. 13 debilitated condition rendered him capable, dreadfully beaten by the garages as he passed, and had nearly reached the goal, when he was knocked down *>y a warrior with a club; and the demoniac set, gathering around the prostrate body, continued to beat him until life appeared to be nearly extinguished. In this wretched condition, naked, lacerated and exhausted, he was marched from town to town, exhibited, tortured, often threat ened to be burned at the stake, and compelled frequently to run the gauntlet. On one of these occasions he attempted to make InS escape, broke through the ranks of his torturers, and had outstripped those who pursued him, when he was met by some warriors on horseback, who compelled him to surrender. After running the gauntlet in thirteen towns, he was taken to the "Wyandot town of Lower Sandusky, in Ohio, to be burned. Here resided the white miscreant, Simon Girty, who, having just returned from an unsuc cessful expedition against the frontiers of Pennsylvania, was in a particularly bad humor. Hearing that there was a white prisoner in town, the renegade rushed upon him, struck him, beat him to the ground, and was proceeding to further atrocities, when Kenton had the presence of mind to call him by name and claim his protection. They had known each other in their youth ; Kenton had once saved the life of Girty ; and deaf as was the latter, habitually, to every dictate of benevolence, he admitted the claim of his former ac quaintance. Actuated by one of those unaccountable caprices common among savages, he interceded for him, rescued him from the stake, and took him to his own house, where, in a few days, the prisoner recovered his strength. Some of the chiefs, however, became dissatisfied ; another council was held, the former decree was reversed, and Kenton was again doomed to the stake. From this extremity he was rescued by the intercession of Dre\v- yer, a British agent, who, having succeeded in obtaining his release, carried him to Detroit, where he was received by the British com mander as a prisoner of war. From that place he made his escape, in company with two other Americans; and, after a march of thirty days through the wilderness, continually exposed to recapture, had the good fortune to escape all perils, and to reach the settlements of Kentucky in safety. 13 14 TALES AND TRADITIONS. Hall, from whose sketches of the West we have gathered this account of his running the gauntlet, states that all those horrors were endured upon the occasion of his captivity following his Mazeppa- like ride, although Burnet, in his " Notes," speaks of it as upon another and a future occasion. After the fall of Kaskaskia, which took place in 1778, and in Hie expedition against which Kenton took an active part, he was sent with a small party to Kentucky with dispatches. On their way the rangers fell in with a camp of Indians, in whose possession were a number of horses, which the daring fellows took and sent back to the army, then in great need of the animals. Pursuing their way by Vincennes, they entered that French-Indian town at night, traversed several of the streets, and departed without being discovered, taking from the inhabitants two horses to each man. When they came to White river, a raft was made on which to cross, while the horses were driven in to swim the river. On the opposite shore a party of Indians was encamped, who caught the horses as they ascended the bank. Such are the vicissitudes of border incident ! The same horses which had been audaciously taken only the night before from the interior of a regularly garrisoned town, were lost by being accidentally driven by their captors into a camp of the enemy ! Kenton and his party, finding themselves in the utmost danger, returned to the shore from which they had pushed their raft, and concealed themselves until night, when they crossed the river at a different place, reaching Kentucky in safety. The expedition against Kaskaskia was one of the earliest made by the Americans beyond the Ohio. This place, as well as the posts upon the Lakes, was then in possession of the British, with whom we were at war. Being one of the points from which the Indians were supplied with ammunition, and thus enabled to harass the settlements in Kentucky, its capture was considered so important that the legislature of Virginia were induced to raise a regiment for the purpose. The command was given to Colonel George Rogers Clarke, the young military hero, to whom, more than to any other one person, Kentucky owes her successful foundation as a State. He was, as a military leader, what Kenton was as a scout and skirmisher 14 THE TORTURE HIDE OF SIMON KEKTOK. 15 one of those men who seemed raised up, providentially, to master great, difficulties. The story of the campaign by which he took Kaskaskia is one of the most interesting of our border experiences. With two or three hundred men, mostly raised in Virginia, he crossed the mountains to the Monongahela, and descended by water to the Falls of the Ohio, where he was joined by some volunteers from Kentucky, among whom was Simon Kenton. After a halt of a few days to refresh his men, he proceeded down the Ohio to the neighborhood of Fort Massac, a point about sixty miles above the mouth of that river, where he landed and hid his boats, to prevent their discovery by the Indians. He was now distant from Kaskaskia about one hundred and thirty miles. The intervening country must have been, at that time, almost impassable. His route led through a flat region, over flowed by the backwater of the streams, and entirely covered with a most luxuriant vegetation, which must have greatly impeded the inarch of his troops. Through this dreary region, the intrepid young leader marched on foot, at the head of his gallant baud, with his rifle on his shoulder and his provisions on his back. After wading through swamps, crossing creeks by such methods as could be hastily adopted, and sustaining two days' march after the provisions were exhausted, he arrived in the night before the village of Kaskaskia. Having halted and formed his men, he made them a speech, which contained only the brief sentence : " The town must be taken at all events." Accordingly it was taken, and that without striking a blow ; for, although fortified, the surprise was so complete that no resistance was attempted. This exploit was followed up by a series of the same character ; in all of which Kenton played his part, being chosen, as we have seen, after this expedition, to be the bearer of important dispatches through a hostile country. In all emergencies like this, his aid was invaluable. Simon Kenton was a striking example of cool, deliberate bravery, united with a tender, sympathizing heart. In times of danger and conflict, all his energies were enlisted in the struggle. He fought for victory, regardless of consequences ; but the moment the contest was over, and his feelings resumed their usual state, he could sit down and weep over the misery he had assisted in producing. 15 1G Doubtless this extreme sensibility was (lie cause of his being driven into the wilds of the West the wretchedness he suffered on account of the blow he had dealt in a moment of passion being such as per mitted his mind no repose for a long period after the deed was committed. Such tenderness of heart is not incompatible with the sternest braveiy indeed, the most heroic are, usually, also the most gentle and generous in times of repose. During a large portion of his life, solitude, danger and want were his attendants; necessity had so familiarized him to privation, that ho could endure abstinence from food, and subsist on as small a quantity of it, without detriment to health or strength, as the savages themselves. During his residence in the wilderness, the land-warrants issued by the commonwealth of Virginia were easily obtained. After the holders were permitted to locate them west of the mountains, he found no difficulty in possessing himself of as many of them as he desired ; and having traversed the wilderness in every direction, his topographical knowledge enabled him to select for location the best and most valuable lands in the country. Well, too, had he earned these estates, for his hand had opened them pot only to himself but for thousands of others to possess and enjoy. Had he possessed the information necessary to enable him to make his entries suffi ciently special to stand the test of legal scrutiny, his locations would have been the foundation of a princely fortune for himself and his descendants. Unfortunately, however, he was uneducated ; and, although his locations were judicious, and his entries were made in the expressive language suggested by a vigorous mind, yet they were not sufficiently technical ; in consequence of which the greater part of them were lost, by subsequent entries more specifically and tech nically made. He succeeded in retaining a few of them however, and these were sufficient to make him entirely independent. The first authentic information we have of him, after he left the place of his nativity, is that he was engaged in the great battle fought at the mouth of the Big Kanawha, between the Indians and the troops of Lord Dinsmore, while he was Governor of the Province of Virginia ; in which he, Kenton, was distinguished for his bravery. The next intelligence is, that in 1775, he was in the district of Kentucky commanding a station, near the spot where the town ol 10 THE TORTURE-RIDE OF SIMON KENTON. 17 Washington now stands. Not long after that work was done, the station was discovered, attacked and destroyed by the Indians, and it does not appear that he made any effort to reoccupy it until the year 1784, after the treaty of peace with Great Britain. In that year he rebuilt his block-house and cabins, and proceeded to raise a crop ; and though frequently disturbed by the Indians, he continued to occupy and improve it, until he removed his family to Ohio, some eight or ten years after the treaty of Greenville. At the commencement of the war of 1812, Kenton was a citizen of Ohio, residing in the vicinity of Urbana. He then bore on his person the scars of many a bloody conflict ; yet he repaired to the American camp and volunteered in the army of Harrison. His per sonal bravery was proverbial ; his skill and tact in Indian warfare were well known ; and as the frontier at that time abounded with Indians, most of whom had joined the British standard, the services of such an experienced Indian-fighter as Simon Kenton were highly appreciated by General Harrison and Governor Meigs, each of whom had known him personally for many years. His offer was promptly accepted, and the command of a regiment conferred upon him. While a portion of the arm} r was stationed at Urbana, a mutinous plan was formed by some of the militia to attack an encampment of friendly Indians, who, threatened by the hostile tribes, had been invited to remove their families within our frontier settlements for protection. Kenton remonstrated against the movement, as being not only mutinous, but treacherous and cowardly. He appealed to their humanity, and their honor as soldiers. He told them that he Had endured suffering and torture at the hands of these people again and again, but that was in time of war ; and now, when they had come to us under promise of safety, he should permit no treachery toward them. Finding the mutineers still bent on their purpose, he took a rifle and called on them to proceed, declaring that he should accompany them to the encampment, and shoot down the first man who attempted to molest it. Knowing that the veteran would keep his promise, no one ventured to take the lead. Thus generous was Kenton in times of peace ; thus brave in times of war. We have said that he secured enough land despite of the entries made after and upon histo render him independent for life ; but 1 17 18 TALES AND TRADITIONS. there were not wanting those, in his latter days, base enough to defraud the confiding and noble old hero out of the remainder of his affluence. In 1828 Congress granted him a pension, dating back many years, which afforded him an ample support the remainder of his life. The records of such lives as his should be carefully preserved, that the luxurious and effeminate young men of to-day, and those of the future, may know by what courage and hardships their ease has been secured to them. MURPHY SAVING THE FORT. SUDDENLY, through the clear stillness of an autumn morning rung out the three rapid reports of an alarm-gun, which had been agreed upon by the three frontier forts defending the valley of the Schoharie, as a signal of danger. The faint flush in the eastern sky was as yet not strong enough to tinge the white frost glittering over leaf and grass; the deep repose of earliest dawn rested over all things in that beautiful vale ; but as the thunder of that alarm-gun rolled sullenly along the air, every eye unclosed, every heart awoke from the even pulse of sleep to the hurried beat of fear and excitement. Not even the inhabitants of Gettysburg, nor the plundered, mis used people of East Tennessee, can imagine the appalling terrors which beset our ancestors during those " days which tried men's souls," when they fought for the liberties which now we are bound to defend in all their sanctity against foes at home or abroad. When we recall the price paid for our present position in the van of pro gress and free government, well may our hearts burn with inextin guishable resolve never to give up what was so nobly purchased. Pardon the reflection, which has nothing to do with the story we have to tell of TIMOTHY MURPHY, THE CELEBRATED RIFLEMAN OF MORGAN'S CORPS. Only this we must say : our English neighbors, who are so much shocked at the way we have managed our civil war, ought to turn back to that disgraceful page of their history 18 MURPHY SAVING THE FORT. 19 whereon is written the hideous record of Indian barbarities which they employed against us against our women and children, our fire sides, our innocent babes ! The signal was fired by the upper fort ; but when those of the middle fort sprung to the ramparts to ascertain the cause of alarm, they found their own walls completely invested. A combined force of British troops, Hessian hirelings and tories, with a body of Indians of the Six Nations, under their war-chief, Joseph Brant the whole under the command of Sir John Johnson passing the first fort unobserved, had entered the valley. After the usual manner of their warfare, the work of destruction upon peaceable inhabitants immediately commenced. Farm-houses were in flames ; women and children, who ran from them, found refuge only in the tortures ot the savages waiting without ; barns, filled with the plenty of autumn, blazed up a few moments with the wild brightness of ruin, and then sunk back, a smoldering heap, to tell of poverty and famine. While this cruel work was progressing, a column of the enemy, with two small mortars and a field-piece called a " grasshopper," from being mounted upon legs instead of wheels was sent to occupy a height which commanded the middle fort. This, with its little garrison of about two hundred men, was surrounded, and lay completely under the enemy's fire. Under these circumstances the men turned to their commander for instructions. Unfortunately, Major Woolsey was a fallen star amid that glorious galaxy to which we look back with such pride he was that pitiable object at which women blush a coward in epaulettes! Where was he in the emergency which ought to have called forth all his powers ? " Among the women and children in a house of the fort !" says the historian, but the narrator does not inform us whether or not the Major absolutely begged the shelter of their skirts ! And, " when driven out by the ridicule of his asso ciates, he crawled around the intrenchments upon his hands and knees." There was one way in which this incident was of service to the troops who awaited the orders of their commander. The Major's cowardice was so utterly ridiculous that the jeers and laughter it called forth restored courage to the men, who had been so suddenly surprised as to be at first disheartened. 19 20 TALE8 AND TKADITIONS. Among HIPP" who shook with mingled wrath and mughter at sight of the impotence of their leader was Murphy. At the first note of danger he had sprung to the ramparts, his unerring rifle in hand, his bright eye flashing fire. He should have been in the Major's place. It is i^'n like him who electrify their comrades with the thrilling enthusiasm and reliance of their own courage men who know not fear, who think nothing of themselves and all of their cause cool, prompt, ready for any emergency. He should have been the leader: but he was only a militiaman, whose term of serv ice had expired at that, and who was " fighting on his own account." But he could not brook the disgrace of such leadership ; when the commander of 'he fort went creeping about on his hands, the militia man felt that it was time to take the reins in his own grasp, and he did it. Implicit obedience from the soldier to the officer is a necessity ; but there are exceptions to all roles, and this was one of them ; to be r itinous then was to be true to duty and to honor. Deeming the fort their own, the enemy sent out an officer with a flag of truce. As soon as he came in sight, the relieved Major got off his knees, commanding his men to cease all firing. Now it was that this jusliuable mutiny ensued. Murphy, from his position on the ramparts, answered to the flag, warning it away, threatening in event of its closer approach to fire upon it. This remarkable assump tion of author' ty confounded all within the fort. He was ordered by the officers of the regular troops to forbear, but the militiamen, whose hero he was, cheered him, and swore he should have his way. Thus supported, as soon as the flag of truce came within range, he fire'" purposely missing the messenger who bore it, when the flag quickly retired. This " outrage " at once closed all avenues to a peaceful surrender. The enemy's artillery opened upon the fort. A continual fusilade was kept up by the mortars, the grass hopper, and ti.e rifles of the Indians, fortunately with little effect. Many an Indian, who considered himself at a prudent distance, bit the dust, as the smoke cleared away from the busy rifle of Timothy Murphy. Ho'ir after hour the attack continued. A number of shells were thrown, but only two of them fell inside the walls ; one of these pierced the house within the palisades, and descending to the first story, smothered itself in a feather-bed, without doing any 20 MURPHY SAVING THE FOTIT. 21 fatal injury. The gallant Major commanding should have been ensconced for safety in those feathers ! The other shell set fire to the roof, which was saved from destruction by a pail of water carried by the intrepid Philip Graft, the sentinel who had first discovered the approach of the British troops. Many exciting events occurred during that long forenoon. A large barn, filled with grain, and surrounded by several stacks of wheat, stood a few hundred feet from the fort. It was several times set on fire. As it was important to save its contents, Lieutenant Spencer, with his band of forty men, sallied out on each occasion, and extinguished the flames. This heroic party also made sorties, whenever the enemy approached too near the fort, which could not be properly protected, owing to a short supply of ammunition. Now it was, also, that the courage of women which the annals of the Revolution set forth in such noble luster shone resplendent above the craven fear of the commander. Some A the women armed themselves, avowing their determination to aid in the defense, should the attack reach the walls. The supply of water threatening to give out, a soldier was ordered to bring some from a well outside the works. He turned pale and stood trembling in his shoes, between the double danger of disobedience and exposure to the enemy's fire. " Give the bucket to me !" cried a girl, not over n'^oteen years of age, her red lip curling slightly with scorn, as she took the bucket from his yielding hand, and went forth after the much-needed neces sary of life. A shout of enthusiasm broke from the spectators. With a smile on her face and a clear luster in her eyes, inspiriting to see, she went out on her dangerous journey. Without the least appearance of trepidation, she filled her bucket and returned, passing within range of the enemy's fire. This errand she performed several times in safety. All this time the rifle of Murphy was doing its appointed work. In the course of the forenoon he saw a second flag Approaching to demand the surrender of the fort. Seeing him preparing to salute it as he had the former, Major Woolsey ordered the independent rifleman from the ramparts. 21 23 TALES AND TRADITIONS. " I shan't come down," said the sturdy patriot. " I'm going to fire on that white rag." " Then I shall be obliged to kill you on the spot," said the Major, drawing his sword, and making a flourish. Murphy only took one eye from the advancing flag ; his weapon was sighted ; he was not sufficiently alarmed by this threat to lose its position. " Kill away, Major, if you think best. It won't better your situ ation much. I know you, and what you will do. You will surren der this fort. Yes, sir; in the hopes of saving your miserable skin, you'll surrender ! But you won't even save your own carcass. You can believe what I tell you. I know them troops out thar, and their way of fightin'. You won't make nothing by surrendering to them, and Tiin Murphy, for one, ain't going to surrender. No, sir!" Again the gallant militiamen applauded his sentiments, which were no sooner uttered than the rifleman discharged his piece at the ap proaching officer, missing him, as before, purposely. Of course, at this, hostilities were renewed ; but, as the rifleman said, he knew which of two dangers was most to be dreaded; and, if he must perish, he preferred to die in defense of what had been intrusted to them rather than to be smote down after the humiliation of a sur render by murderers who respected none of the laws of war. It is true, that, to fire upon a flag of truce, was a breach of military usage, and, in almost any circumstances, inexcusable ; but not so now, when the garrison would only meet with the most fatal treachery as the result of any interview. The officers of the regu lars, however, did not so regard the affair. Brought up under the stern discipline of military rule, they took sides with the Major, and expostulated with Murphy upon his unwarrantable violation of the laws of war. " Don't talk," he cried, impatiently. " Jest come up here and take a look at the smoke arising from the homes of defenseless citi zens. Take a look at the red-skins dancing around 'em, like devils around the fires of hell. Hear the screams of them women and children they are murderin' in cold blood. By the God above, if I could get at them fiends, I'd stop that music !" His teeth were 22 MURPHY SAVING THE FORT. 23 firmly set ; his face hardened ; his eyes shone like two coals of fire ; and, disdaining to argue his point at a moment like that, he settled his weapon for the next victim who should venture within range. The garrison could indeed hear, in the intervals of the cannon's silence, the shrieks of helpless families smote down by the tomahawk. " Do you hear it ?" he cried again, as the shrill cry of a female voice pierced the air. " That's the kind of enemy you've got to deal with, and there you stand, balancing, yourselves on a p'int of law! If you open your gates and lay down your arms, you, nor your wives and children, won't meet any better fate. If you want to be tortured by red-skins, and your families given up to their devil ment, let 'em in, let 'em in ! / shan't have a hand in it." The signs of a final charge about to be given allowed no time for further argument. Sir John, drawing np his regular troops in the rear of a frame building standing near the fort, prepared for an assault, while the garrison within made what readiness they could to repel it. The women, knowing how little they had to expect if the place fell, grasped the weapons they had solicited and took their stations near the men, resolved to deal such blows as they could in self-defense. With pale cheeks, but hearts that had outgrown their natural timidity, they awaited the expected blow. At this moment of peril and suspense, for the third time a flag of truce was seen approaching Fort Hunter. Again the undaunted Murphy prepared to fire upon it ; but this time, made desperate by his very cowardice, Major Woolsey commanded his soldiers to arrest the disobedient rifleman. The militia, however, gathered around their hero, threatening any and all who should molest him ; they had confidence that the judgment of one so brave was superior to that of the officer who had shown himself so unfit for his position. In the mean time, precious time was being lost. In a moment more Murphy would enrage the foe by again insulting their flag. The commander ordered a white flag to be shown. A handkerchief was placed on a staff and a soldier ordered to display it. " The man who dares attempt it will be shot down by my own rifle," thundered the inexorable militiaman, who thus braved the regular authority. The men knew that he meant what he said, and not one was found to attempt to execute the order of Woolsey. 24 TALES AND TRADITIONS. " Wlic^coinmands here, you or I ?" shouted the enraged Major. " I reckon / do, as fur as not givin' up goes," was the cool answer. At this crisis, Captain lleghtmeyer, of the militia, feeling that their commander was about to betray them all, took up his station by the rifleman and ordered him to lire. Exasperated by such contumacy, Woolsey drew his sword upon the Captain, threatening to cut him down unless his orders were obeyed. It was a strange time for persons associated in such immi nent peril to fall out among themselves; but the brave and un flinching were not disposed to yield their fate into the hands of the weak and vacillating. Captain Reghtmeyer, in answer to this threat, clubbed his gun, and awaited the attack of the Major, resolved to dash out his brains if he assaulted him ; whereupon that officer, thinking in this, as in other cases, that discretion was the better part of valor, subsided into silence. The flag-officer of the enemy, as soon as he came within range, seeing Murphy bring his rifle to his shoulder, immediately turned and ran back; he had no mind to encounter the sharp warning which had been given his predecessors. Then followed a moment of suspense. The little garrison expected nothing better than an angry and overwhelming assault ; the men breathed heavily, grasping their muskets sternly, while the women's faces grew like those of their fathers and husbands, settling into the firm lines of resolve. Moment after moment crept away ; a half- hour sped, and yet the roar of artillery and the nearer shouts of the expected assailants were not heard. " You needn't give yourself no further oneasiness, Major," at length spoke the gallant Murphy, contempt mingling with relief and joy in his voice. He had kept his gaze fixed upon the movements of the enemy, and now perceived that they were retiring. " The red-coats and red-skins are takin' themselves off. It's jest as I told you the spunk we've shown makes 'em think us stronger than we are, and they've made up their minds to back out." And so, indeed, it proved ! " The spunk we've shown " Murphy modestly said ; which was really the spunk he had shown. His courage and persistence saved Fort Hunter. The British officers naturally supposed their flag of truce would not be three times fired 24 MURPHY SAVING THE FORT. 27 upon unless that fort was to be defended to the death. They there fore decided to withdraw, and to abandon the attempt for its capture. Thus was the fort, with all its precious lives, preserved by the tact as well as the determination of a single man. However cha grined the " gallant " Major may have been at the flagrant disobe dience of an inferior, the results were such as to nullify the conse quences of his anger. The fact that the fort was saved was th-i mutineer's justification. This affair occurred in 1780. It was not the first gallant exploit of our hero nor the last. He had already made himself famous by deeds both of daring, dashing boldness, and deliberate courage. Three years before the attack on Fort Hunter, at the battle of Stillwater in 1777, he had killed the British General, Frazer, by a ball from his unerring rifle. This is the first record w r e have of him ; but after that many instances were noted of his extraordinary prowess, and many more, doubtless, of equal interest, never have received a chronicle. He had a peculiar hatred of the Indians, called forth by the many proofs of their treachery and cruelty. He was a valuable acquisition to any party of scouts who might be out after the red-skins ; and many were the marvelous escapes he had. As an instance of that obstinacy of his character exhibited in his conduct at the attack upon Fort Hunter, we must give the reader an account of another and quite different circumstance, in which he dis played the same determination to have his own way and in which he had it ! This little episode in the life of the celebrated rifleman is not only interesting in itself, but also as showing under what dif ficulties the little GOD OF LOVE will struggle and triumph. " Love rules the court, the camp, the grove :" and not the fiery sword of Mars himself can frighten him from his universal throne. After the attack upon Fort Hunter, Murphy, although his period of enlistment had expired, still remained with the garrison. It was not long after this that something besides duty to his country began to bind him to the valley of the Schoharie. The heart which had never quailed before an Indian or red-coat, was brought low by a shaft from the bright eyes of a maiden of sixteen ! Not far from the fort dwelt a family by the name of Feeck, whose 27 28 TALES AND TRADITIONS. home bad escaped destruction from the advcut of the enemy. Their daughter Margaret was a spirited and handsome girl, in whose dark blue eyes laughed mischief and tenderness combined ; her auburn hair shaded cheeks rosy with health ; her form was just rounding into the fullness of maidenhood, with a grace all its own, acquired from the fresh air and bountiful exercise to which she was accus tomed. The historian does not tell us how the first meeting occurred, but certain it is that the indomitable heart of the rifleman was con quered at last. Murphy was then twenty-eight years of age and Margaret but sixteen. There is something in the nature of a woman which does homage to bravery in a man. The man who has the reputation of cowardice may be handsome and elegant, but slie will despise him ; he alone who is famous for courage commands woman's full respect and low. When the invincible rifleman, whose iron nerves shrunk from no exposure, and whose energy was daunted by no difficulties, betrayed to the young girl, by his faltering manner in her presence, that she could do what armies could not confuse and master him her breast thrilled with pride and delight. The dis parity of their ages was nothing to her ; she felt honored at being the choice of a brave man ; her timid glance, usually so mischiev ous, encouraged him to speak, and when he did he was not rejected. Whether it was that Margaret's parents thought her too young, or that there was too great a disciepancy in their ages, or that they had sonic prejudice against Murphy, we are not advised ; but they stren uously opposed the intimacy, forbidding the lover to enter their house. Then it was that he again questioned the authority of the ruling powers. It was not in his nature to submit to this arbitrary decree. As once before he had " had his own way " in defiance of superiors, he was resolved to have it now. He loved the maiden and she him ; there was none who should keep them apart. When he made a resolution it might be considered as carried out. Mar garet, drooping about the house, doing her work listlessly, instead of with joyous singing, received a communication which brought back the roses to her cheeks in fuller bloom than ever. A faithful friend of Murphy, living not far from the Feeck family, on the Schoharie creek, was the person who wrought this change in the young girl. During a visit to the parents, he contrived to arrange a meeting at 28 MURPHY SAVING THE FOIIT. 20 his own house with her lover. Thither she went one day on a pre tended errand, and found her lover awaiting her. During the inter view a plan was arranged for eluding the vigilance of her parents and consummating their happiness by marriage. There was some difficulty about this, for her father and mother had instituted a close surveillance over all the " coming and going." Margaret herself, though willing, was timid, shrinking from the dan ger of detection and the anger of her parents. " Pshaw !" said Murphy, squeezing the hand he held in his own broad palm, "it's likely I can't take care of you, Maggie! I've trailed too many Injuns, and dodged too many bullets, to think much of carrying off my girl when I want her. Jest you be on the spot, and leave the rest to me." She promised, and they separated to wait impatiently for the ap pointed evening. When it came, Margaret, under pretense of going to milk, some distance from the house, stole away from home to meet her intended husband. She dared not make the least change in her apparel, lest suspicion should be excited ; and when she made her appearance at the appointed spot, she presented but little of the usual semblance of an expectant bride. She was barefoot and bare headed, and wore the short gown and petticoat, so much the vogue among females of that day as a morning or working-dress ; but be neath the humble garb beat a true and ingenuous heart, worth more than outward trappings to any man. The form, arrayed in home spun, was of a blooming and substantial beauty, which needed not the " foreign aid of ornament." She was first at the place of rendezvous, where she waited with fear and impatience for her lover, but no lover came. Twilight was fast fading into darkness, and yet he came not. From her little nook of concealment, behind a clump of alders which grew on a bend of the stream, out of sight of her home, she strained her eyes to look for the approaching form, which still came not. The pink tinge which flushed the silver water died off into the gray of even ing ; every moment she expected to hear the stern voice of her father calling her. What should she do ? It would not answer to return home, for she already had been gone too long. The cow had not been milked, and if she went back now, her unusual absence must 30 TALES AND TRADITIONS. excite suspicions, which would prevent a future meeting with her lover. This was her greatest dread. She had dwelt on their union too fondly to endure the return now to a hopeless separation. Margaret was not long in making up her mind what course to pursue. Since Murphy had not come to her she would go to him ! She knew him brave and honorable, and that some important mat ter must have kept him from the tryst. In order to reach the fort she was obliged to ford the stream. About this she had no squeam- ishness, as she had performed the feat one hundred times before ; the stream was shallow and not very wide. Evidently she was for tunate in not being troubled with shoes and stockings in the present emergency ; it did not trouble her much to hold up her short skirts from the water into which she waded ; and, as her little feet felt their cautious way across the creek, no doubt she looked as pretty to her lover, in her attitudes of unconscious grace, as other brides have done under more fortunate circumstances ; for Murphy saw the whole proceeding with a pleased eye, taking her advance as a proof both of her love for, and faith in, himself. He had been detained at the fort by some provoking duties, and had ridden up to the brook just as Margaret began to cross. Although in her heart she felt inwardly relieved to find him there, the maiden began to pout at his tardiness, and to regret that she had taken a step beyond the trysting-place to meet a lover who would not take the trouble to be punctual to an appointment like this. "I shall go home again, Tim," she cried, concealing her blushes under a frown, which, though pretty, was not at all frightful. " Not to-night, Maggie," he said, "as, lifting her up behind him, he sped away to the fort. Murphy was a general favorite among the garrison ; not an indi vidual there who would not willingly have aided and assisted him in his nuptial enterprise. His plans were well known; and, as the happy couple rode in at the gate, lighted by the last lingering gleam of sunset in the west, they were received with three hearty cheers. The circumstances were such as to call forth the warmest interest of the female part of the population. The young maiden was taken in charge by them. As there was no minister to perform the cere mony of marriage, the couple would be obliged to take a trip to 30 MURPHY SAVING THE FORT. 31 Schenectady, twenty-five miles distant. The evening was spent in preparation. Various choice articles of apparel and ornament, some of whicu, doubtless, had served a similar purpose on former occa sions, v ere brought forth; all went to work with a will to fit out this impromptu bridal trousseau. By morning every thing was in readiners except the proper dress. This, Murphy decided to pro cure in Schenectady. As time was precious they started at dawn, and made the whole distance in four hours. A handsome silk dress was here purchased and placed in the hands of a dressmaker and some friends, who perform .>d wonders which would astonish a modiste of to-day : they completed the dress in the course of the afternoon ! The couple stopped at the house of friends, who did all they could to assist in the pleasant project. Before dark the bride was arrayed in a man ner becoming the important occasion. A gay company, composed of some of their acquaintances, accompanied the happy pair to the residence of the Rev. Mr. Johnson, where the solemn ceremony which united their lives in one was performed ; after which they returnee to the house of their friends to spend the wedding-night. We are afraid if some of the dainty belles of the present day had to accomplish as much in one day as had been done by this bride, before fiey could find themselves safely wedded to the object of their choice, they would shrink away dismayed, and settle down into old maius. To run away from home barefoot ; to wade a creek ; to ride into a fort behind her lover ; to ride twenty -five miles ; to buy and make a wedding-dress, and attire herself for the ceremony ; to go to the n 'mister and get married, all in twenty-four hours, showed an energy worthy of the times. Such kind of women were fit wives for the men who bore the perils ol the Revolution, and whose strength of mind and heart, whose unconquerable love of liberty, secured to us our inheritance. On th ^ir return to Schoharie, the parents of the bride were ex ceedingly wroth at the disobedience of their daughter, and at the presumption of the daring rifleman. For a time they refused to be reconciled ; but, reflecting that no opposition could alter or recall the act, they at length concluded to overlook all and receive the couple to their .ove. 31 6? TALES AND TRADITIONS. The brave rifleman made a true husband. Margaret, who lived with him happily for nearly thirty years, had no reason to regret the hour when she forded Schoharie creek in search of her tardy lover. ' Despite of the eventful perils into which he was always flinging himself, Murphy lived to see years of peace, dying of cancer in the throat, in 1818, at the age of sixty-eight. He was an uneducated man ; but, possessed of a strong will and an amiable disposition, he exerted an unbounded influence over the minds of a certain class of men, who, like himself, were schooled in trial. His power was that of originality, independence and courage qualities which will make any man a leader of the people among whom he moves. Men of his stamp were a necessity of the times in which they lived ; they seemed to spring up in the hour of need, having patience, perse verance, endurance and boldness to cope with the stealthy and mur derous foes who hung upon the path of our civilization. They deserve to be embalmed in the annals of the country in whose guard they fought. BRANT AND THE BOY. ONE bright summer morning, a lad by the name of M'Kown was engaged in raking hay in a field some distance from any house, and as was the custom with all who labored abroad in those days of danger and sudden surprise was armed with a musket, which, how ever, he had stood against a tree ; but in the progress of his work had advanced beyond its immediate proximity. While busily occu pied, and intent upon his work, he heard a slight jingling behind him, and turning suddenly around, he beheld an Indian within three feet of him, who bore in his mien and costume the appearance of a chief; and although his position indicated peaceful intentions, the tomahawk in his right hand betokened his readiness for hostilities if occasion required it. Startled at this sudden and unexpected apparition, the youth, with a natural impulse, raised his rake to 82 BRANT AND THE BOY. -35 defend himself, thoughtless of the insufficiency of his weapon. His fears were dissipated by the Indian, who remarked : " Do not be afraid, young man ; I shall not hurt you." He then inquired of the lad if he could direct him to the resi dence of a noted loyalist by the name of Foster. Young M'Kown gave him the necessary directions to enable him to find that person age, and then, emboldened by the apparent peaceable intentions of the other, asked him if he knew Mr. Foster. " I am partially acquainted with him," was the reply, " having once met him at the half-way creek." The Indian then entered into a familiar conversation with his interrogator, in the course of which he asked him his name, and upon being informed, he added : " You are a son, then, of Captain M'Kown, who lives in the north-east part of the town, I suppose. I know your father very well ; he lives neighbor to Captain M'Kean. I know M'Kean very well, and a very fine fellow he is, too." Thus the parties conversed together in a social manner for some time, until the boy emboldened by the familiarity which had been established between them ventured to ask the Indian his name in turn. This he did not seem disposed to give him, hesitating for a moment, but at length replied : " My name is Brant." " What ! Captain Brant ?" eagerly demanded the youth. " No ; I am a cousin of his," replied the Indian, at the same time accompanying his assertion with a smile and expression of counte nance which intimated his attempt to deceive his interlocutor. It was indeed the terrible Thayendanega himself, who was associated, in the mind of the youth, with every possible trait of a fiend-like character; and it is not to be wondered at, that he trembled as he felt himself to be in the presence of one whose delight, it had been represented to him, was to revel in slaughter and bloodshed. He was somewhat reassured, however, by the thought, that, if his inten tions had been hostile toward him, he could easily have executed them before ; but he did not feel fully assured of his safety until the Indian had taken his departure, and he had reached his home with his life and scalp intact. 85 36 TALES AND TRADITIONS. This little incident is but one of many, told to prove that Brant was not the bloodthirsty monster which, for many years after the Revolution, he had the reputation of being. He was a Freemason : and on several occasions, during the war, his fraternal feelings were called into play, in behalf of prisoners who belonged to that order. Among others we are told : Jonathan Maynard, Esq. afterward a member of the Massachu setts Senate who was actively engaged in the Revolutionary war, was taken prisoner at one time by a party of Indians under the com mand of Brant, The younger warriors of the party seemed disposed to put him to death, in accordance with their determination to exterminate the whites, as agreed upon by the tories and Indians in that section of the country. Preparations had been made to carry out their intentions, when, having been partially stripped of his clothing, Brant observed the emblems of Masonry indelibly marked upon the prisoner's arms, and feeling bound to him by a tie which none but a brother can appreciate, he interposed his authority, saved his life, and sent him to Canada, to keep him out of harm's way ; and lie remained in durance for several months, until exchanged and allowed to return home. There is another incident, where Brant met one of his old school mates ; but where the circumstances of their early intimacy would not have interfered between the white officer and death, had he not eaved himself by means of justifiable duplicity. In the month of April, in 1780, it was the intention of Captain Brant, the Indian chieftain, to make a descent upon the upper fort of Schoharie, but which was prevented by an unlooked-for circum stance. Colonel Vrooman had sent out a party of scouts to pass over to the head-waters of the Charlotte river, where resided certain suspected persons, whose movements it was their duty to watch. It being the proper season for the manufacture of maple sugar, the men were directed to make a quantity of that article, of which the gar rison were greatly in want. On the 3d of April this party, under the command of Captain Harper, commenced their labors, which they did cheerfully, and entirely unapprehensive of danger, as a fall of snow, some three feet deep, would prevent, they supposed, the moving of any considerable body of the enemy, while in fact they 36 RllAXT AND THE BOY. 31 were not aware of any body of the armed foe short of Niagara. But on the 7th of April they were suddenly surrounded by a party of about forty Indians and tories, the first knowledge of whose presence was thb death of three of their party. The leader was instantly discovered in the person of the Mohawk chief, who rushed np to Captain Harper, tomahawk in hand, and observed : " Harper, I am sorry to find you here !" "Why are you sorry, Captain Brant?" replied the other. "Because," replied the chief, "I must kill you, although we were schoolmates in our youth" at the same time raising ids hatchet, and suiting the action to the word. Suddenly his arm fell, and with a piercing scrutiny, looking Harper full in the face, he inquired : " Are there any regular troops in the fort in Schoharie ?" Harper caught the idea in an instant. To answer truly, and admit there were none, as was the fact, would but hasten Brant and his warriors forward to fall upon the settlements at once, and their destruction would have been swift and sure. He therefore informed him that a reinforce ment of three hundred Continental troops had arrived to garrison the forts only two or three days before. This information appeared very much to disconcert the chieftain. He prevented the further shedding of blood, and held a consultation with his subordinate chiefs. Night coming on, the prisoners were shut up in a pen of logs, and guarded by the tories, while among the Indians, controversy ran high whether the prisoners should be put to death or carried to Niagara. The captives were bound hand and foot, and were so near the council that Harper, who understood something of the Indian tongue, could hear the dispute. The Indians were for putting them to death, but Brant exercised his authority to effectually prevent the massacre. On the following morning Harper was brought before the Indians for examination. The chief commenced by saying that he was suspicious he had not told him the truth. Harper, however, although Brant was e} r eing him like a basilisk, repeated his former statements, without the improper movement of a muscle, or any betrayal that he was deceiving. Brant, satisfied of the truth of the story, resolved to retrace his steps to Niagara. But his warriors were disappointed in their hopes of spoils and victory, and it was 37 38 TALES AND TRADITIONS. oniy with the greatest difficulty that they were prevented from put ting the captives to death. Their march was forthwith commenced, and was full of pain, peril and adventure. They met on the succeeding day with two loyalists, who both disproved Harper's story of troops being at Scho- harie, and the Captain was again subjected to a piercing scrutiny ; but he succeeded so well in maintaining the appearance of truth and sincerity as to arrest the upraised and glittering tomahawk. On the same day an aged man, named Brown, was accidentally fallen in with and taken prisoner, with two youthful grandsons ; the day fol lowing, being unable to travel with sufficient speed, and sinking under the weight of the burden imposed upon him, the old man was put out of the way with the hatchet. The victim was dragging behind, and when he saw preparations making for his doom, took an affectionate farewell of his little grandsons, and the Indians moved on, leaving one of their number with his face painted black the mark of the executioner behind with him. In a few moments afterward, the Indian came up, with the old man's scalp dangling from between the ramrod and the muzzle of his gun. They constructed floats, and sailed down the Susquehanna to the confluence of the Chemuug, at which place their land-traveling commenced. Soon after this, a severe trial and narrow escape befell the prisoners. During his march from Niagara on this expedition, Brant had detached eleven of his warriors, to fall once more upon the Minisink settlement for prisoners. This detachment, as it subse quently appeared, had succeeded in taking captive five athletic men, whom they secured and brought with them as far as Tioga Point. The Indians slept very soundly, and the five prisoners had resolved, on the first opportunity, to make their escape. While encamped at this place during the night, one of the Minisink men succeeded in extricating his hands from the binding cords, and with the utmost caution, unloosed his four companions. The Indians were locked in the arms of deep sleep around them. Silently, without causing a leaf to rustle, they each snatched a tomahawk from the girdles of their unconscious enemies, and in a moment nine of them were quiv ering in the agonies of death. The two others were awakened, and springing upon their feet, attempted to escape. One of them was 38 BRANT AND THE BOY 39 struck vvitli a hatchet between the shoulders, but the other fled. The prisoners immediately made good their own retreat, and the only Indian who escaped unhurt returned to take care of his wounded companion. As Brant and his warriors approached this point of their journey, some of his Indians having raised a whoop, it was returned by a single voice, with the death yell! Startled at this unexpected signal, Brunt's warriors rushed forward to ascertain the cause. But they were not long in doubt. The lone warrior met them, and soon related to his brethren the melancholy fate of his companions. The effect upon the warriors, who gathered in a group to hear the recital, was inexpressibly fearful. Rage, and a desire of revenge, seemed to kindle every bosom, and light every eye as with burning coals. They gathered around the prisoners in a circle, and began to make unequivocal preparations for hacking them to pieces. Harper and his men of course gave themselves up for lost. While their knives were unsheathing, and their hatchets glittering, as they were flourished in the sunbeams, the only survivor of the murdered party rushed into the circle and interposed in their favor. With a wave of the hand, as of a warrior entitled to be heard for he was himself a chief silence was restored, and the prisoners were sur prised by the utterance of an earnest appeal in their behalf. He eloquently and impressively declaimed in their favor, upon the ground that it was not they who murdered their brothers ; and to take the lives of the innocent would not be right in the eyes of the Great Spirit. His appeal was effective. The passions of the incensed warriors were hushed, their eyes no longer shot forth the burning glances of revenge, and their gesticulations ceased to menace imme diate and bloody vengeance. True, it so happened, that this chief knew all the prisoners he having resided in the Schoharie canton of the Mohawks during tl.e war. He doubtless felt a deeper interest in their behalf on that account. Still, it was a noble action, worthy of the proudest era of chivalry, and in the palmy clays of Greece and Rome, would have crowned him almost with " an apotheosis and rights divine." The interposition of Pocahontas, in favor of Captain Smith, before the rude court of Powhatan, was, perhaps, more romantic ; but when the motive which prompted the generous action of the princess is 39 40 TALKS AND TRADITION*. considered, the transaction now under review exhibits the most of genuine benevolence. Pocahontas was moved by the tender passion the Mohawk Sachem by the feelings of magnanimity, and the eternal principles of justice. It is a matter of regret that the name of this high-souled warrior is lost, as, alas ! have been too many that might serve to relieve the dark and vengeful portraiture of Indian character, which it has so well pleased the white man to draw ! The prisoners themselves were so impressed with the manner of their signal deliverance, that they justly attributed it to a direct interposi tion of Providence. After the most acute sufferings from hunger and exhaustion, the party at last arrived at Niagara. The last night of their journey, they encamped a short distance from the fort. In the morning the prisoners were informed that they were to run the gauntlet, and were brought out where two parallel lines of Indians were drawn up, between which the prisoners were to pass, exposed to the whips and blows of the savages. The course to be run was toward the fort. Harper was the first one selected, and at the signal, sprung from the mark with extraordinary swiftness. An Indian near the end of the line, fearing he might escape without injury, sprung before him, but a blow from Harper's fist felled him ; the Indians, enraged, broke their ranks and rushed after him, as he fled with the utmost speed toward the fort. The garrison, when they saw Harper ap proaching, opened the gates, and he rushed in, only affording suffi cient time for the garrison to close the gates, ere the Indians rushed upon it, clamoring for the possession of their victim. The other prisoners, taking advantage of the breaking up of the Indian ranks, took different routes, and all succeeded in reaching the fort without passing through the terrible ordeal which was intended for them. This was in the April preceding the final attack upon the fort in the Schoharie valley, which took place in the fall, as described in the second article of tl.is number ; and at which Murphy, the rifleman, so distinguished himself. As further illustrating this magnanimity which certainly at times distinguished Brant, it is said that at the horrible massacre of Cherry Valley, Butler the tory Captain, son of the Butler who ful filled liis hideous part in the destruction of Wyoming on entering a 40 BRANT AND THE BOT. 4l house, ordered a woman and child to be killed who were found in bed. " What !" exclaimed Brant ; " kill a woman and child ? No ! that child is not an enemy to the king, nor a friend to Congress. Long before he will be big enough to do any mischief, the dispute will be settled." The life of Brant was, to say the least, peculiar. An Indian, but an educated and traveled one, with much of the tact of civilization, and all the cunning and wild freedom of the savage, he made a character for himself which always will occupy a niche in history. Whether the conflicting statements in regard to him ever will be so reconciled as to decide whether he was a generous and humane enemy, or a most subtle and ferocious one, we know not ; but this is certain, he was our enemy, and a most efficient ally of the British in their attempts to put out the rising fires of Liberty which were kindling in our valleys, over our plains, and upon our hills. It was a most unfortunate thing for the struggling colonists when Brant took up the hatchet in behalf of the king, for his arm was more to be dreaded than that of King George. Joseph Brant was an Onondaga of the Mohawk tribe, whose Indian name was Thayendanega signifying, literally, a brant, or wild-goose. The story that he was but a half-Indian, the son of a German, has been widely spread, but is denied by his son, and is now believed to be false. There are those, however, whose opinion is of weight, who assert that he was the son of Sir William Johnson ; and such, all circumstances considered, is most likely to have been the fact. He was of a lighter complexion than his countrymen in general, and there are other evidences of his having been a half-breed. He received a very good English education at Moore's charity-school, in Lebanon, Connecticut, where he was placed by Sir William John son, in July, 1761. This General Sir William Johnson was British agent of Indian affairs, and had greatly ingratiated himself into the esteem of the Six Nations. He lived at the place since named for him, upon the north bank of the Mohawk, about forty miles from Albany. Here he had an elegant country-seat, at which he often would entertain several hundred of his red friends, sharing all things in common with them. They so much respected him, that, although they had the fullest liberty, they would take nothing which was not 41 43 TALES AND TRADITIONS. given to them. The faster to rivet their esteem, he would, at certain seasons, accommodate himself to their mode of dress. He also, being a widower, took as a companion Molly Brant, (a sister of Brant,) who considered herself his wife, according to Indian custom, and whom he finally married, to legitimize her children. He had received honors and emoluments from the British Government ; and the Indians, through him, obtained every thing conducive to their happiness. Hence, it is not strange that they should hold in rever ence the name of their " great father," the king ; and think the few rebels who opposed his authority, when the Revolution began, to be inexcusable and unworthy of mercy. Brant, by this time a man in the first flush of his strength, and with as good an education as the majority of his white friends, went to England in 1775, in the beginning of the great Revolutionary rup ture, where he was received with attention. Doubtless his mind was there prepared for the part he acted in the memorable struggle which ensued. He had a Colonel's commission conferred upon him in the English army upon the frontiers ; which army consisted of such lories and Indians as took part against the country. Upon his return from England Sir William Johnson having died the previous year Brant attached himself to Johnson's son-in-law, Guy Johnson, performing the part of secretary to him when trans acting business with the Indians. The Butlers, John and Walter whose names, with those of Brant, are associated with the horrid barbarities of Wyoming and Cherry Valley lived not far from the village of Johnstown, and upon the same side of the Mohawk. After the battle of Bunker Hill, General Schuyler compelled Guy Johnson, and his brother-in-law, Sir John. Johnson, to give their word of honor not to take up arms against America ; but this dim which the rim was entirely worn away, and the crown elon gated into the shape of a sugar-loaf. The face, feet and hands, which were exposed, were of the tawny hue of the savage ; but whether the color was natural, or the effect of exposure, could not be ascertained even by the keen eye of the hunter ; and the features were so disguised with dirt and gunpowder, that their expression afforded no clue by which the question could be decided whether the person was a friend or foe. There was but a moment for scru tiny ; the pioneer, inclining to the opinion that the stranger was an Indian, cautiously drew up his rifle, and took deliberate aim ; but the bare possibility that he might be pointing his weapon at the bosom of a countryman induced him to pause. Again he raised his gun, and again hesitated ; while his opponent, with his rifle half-raised toward his face, and his finger on the trig ger, looked eagerly around. Both stood motionless and silent* one searching for the object of his pursuit, the other in readiness to fire. At length the hunter, having resolved to delay no longer, cocked his rifle the click reached the acute ear of the other, who instantly sprung behind a tree ; the hunter imitated his example, and they were now fairly opposed, each covered by a tree, from behind which he endeavored to get a shot at his adversary without exposing his own person. And now a series of stratagems ensued, each seeking to draw the fire of the other, until the stranger, becoming weary of suspense, called out : " Why don't you shoot, you etarnal cowardly varmint?" " Shoot, yourself, you bloody red-skin !" retorted the other. "No more a red-skin than yourself!" " Are you a white man ?" " To be sure I am. Are you V" " Yes ; no mistake in me !" MRS. AUSTIN AND THE BEAR. 63 Whereupon, each being undeceived, they threw down their guns, rushed together with open arms, and took a hearty hug. The hunter now learned that the stranger had been settled, with his fam ily, about ten miles from him, for several months past, and that each had frequently roamed over the same hunting-ground, suppos ing himself the sole inhabitant of that region. On the following day the hunter saddled his horse, and taking up his good wife behind him, carried her down to make a call upon her new neighbor, who doubtless received the visit with far more sincere joy than usually attends such ceremonies. There is a well-accredited bear-story which belongs to the early history of Ohio, and which is of a little different type from most of the adventures with these ugly animals. An old pilot of the Ohio was once obliged to give a bruin a free ride but he could hardly blame the bear, after stopping so kindly to take him in. But we must let him tell his own story. " Twenty odd year ago," said the pilot, " there warn't a great many people along the Ohio, except Injins and b'ars, and we didn't like to cultivate a clust acquaintance with either of 'em ; fer the Injins were cheatin', scalpin' critters, and the bears had an onpleasant way with them. Ohio warn't any great shakes then, but it had a mighty big pile of the tallest kind of land lay in' about, waitiu' to be opened to the sunlight. 'Arly one mornin' when my companions was asleep, I got up and paddled across the river after a deer, for we wanted venison for breakfast, I got a bunk and was returning when what should I see but a b'ar svvimmin' tne Ohio, and I put out in chase right off. I soon overhauled the critter and picked up my rifle to give him a settler, but the primin' had got wet and the gun wouldn't go off. I didn't understand b'ar as well then as I do now, and I thought I'd run him down and drown him or knock him in the head. So I put the canoe right eend on toward him, thinkin' to run him under, but when the bow teched him, what did he do but reach his great paws up over the side of the canoe and begin to climb in. I hadn't bargained for that. I felt mighty on- pleasant, you may believe, at the prospect of sech a passenger. I hadn't time to get at him with the butt of my rifle, till he came tumbling into the dugout, and, as he seated himself on his starn, showed as pretty a set of ivory as you'd wish to see. Thar we sot, G3 64 TALES AND TRADITIONS. he in one end of the dugout, I in t'other, eyein' one another in a mighty suspicious sort of way. He didn't' seem inclined to come near my eend of the canoe, and I was principled agin goin' toward his. I made ready to take to the water, but at the same time made up my mind I'd paddle him to shore, free gratis for nothin' if he'd behave hisself. Wai, I paddled away, the.b'ar every now and then grinn'in' at me, skinnin' his face till every tooth in his head stood right out, and grumblin' to hisself in a way that seemed to say, ' I wonder if that chap's good to eat.' I didn't offer any opinion on the subject ; I didn't say a word to him, treatin' him all the time like a gentleman, but kept pullin' for the shore. When the canoe touched ground, he clambered over the side, climbed up the bank, and givin' me an extra grin, made off for the woods. I pushed the dugout back suddenly, and give him, as I felt safe agin, a double war whoop, that astonished him. I learned one thing that morning never to try to drown a b\ir 'specially by running him down with a dugout it wont pay !" 04 T ^ L E S, TRADITIONS AND ROMANCE OF BORDER AND REVOLUTIONARY TIMES. BIO JOE LOGSTON. DEBORAH, THE MAIDEN WARRIOR. GKEN. MORGAN'S PRAYER. BRAVERY OF THE JOHNSON BOYS. USTJKW YORK: BEADLE AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS, 118 WILLIAM STREET. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by BEADLE AND COMPANY, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. BIG JOE LOGSTON'S STRUGGLE WITH AN INDIAN. WE have plentiful stories of encounters between the white man and the red, in which the fierce rivalry is contested with rifles, knives, or the swift foot-race for life ; but it is seldom we hear of a genuine fat-fight between the hardy men of the forest and their implacable foe. Only two or three such novel incidents occur in the history of the Western border. Joe Logston was one of the race of famous frontier men, the " Hunters of Kentucky," whose exploits have been told in story and sung in song. He could, to use his own words, " outrun, outhop, ouljump, throw down, drag out and whip any man in the country " which was saying a good deal for those days, when men like Brady, Wetzel, M'Clelland, Adam Poe and Kenton sprung up to face the dangers of the hour. Joe was a powerful fellow of six foot three in his stockings, and proportionately stout and muscular, with a handsome, good-natured face, and a fist like a sledge-hammer. Fear was a word of which he knew not the meaning, while to fight was his pastime, particu larly if his own scalp was the prize he fought for. On one occasion he was mounted on his favorite pony, bound on an expedition outside the fort. The pony was leisurely picking his way along the trail, with his head down and half asleep, while his rider was enjoying a feast on some wild grapes which he had gathered as he passed along. Neither dreamed of danger, until the crack of two rifles on either side the path killed the horse and wounded the rider. A ball struck Joe, grazing the skin above 6 TALES AND TRADITIONS. the breast-bone, but without doing any material damage. The other ball passed through his horse, just behind the saddle. In an instant Joe found himself on his feet, grasping his trusty rifle, which he had instinctively seized as he slipped to the ground, ready for the foe. He might easily have escaped by running, as the guns of the Indians Vere empty, and they could not begin to compete with him in speed. But Joe was not one of that sort. He boasted that he had never left a battle-field without making his " mark," and he was not disposed to begin now. One of the savages spri:ng into the path and made at him, but finding his antagonist prepared, he " treed " again. Joe, knowing there were two of the varmints, looked earnestly about him for the other, and soon discovered him between two saplings, engaged in reloading his piece. The trees were scarcely large enough to shield his person, and in pushing down the ball, he exposed his hips, when Joe, quick as thought. drew a bead, and firing, struck him in the exposed part. Now that his rifle was empty, the big Indian who had first made his appear ance, rushed forward, feeling sure of his prey, and rejoicing in the anticipated possession of the white man's scalp. Joe w is not going to resign this necessary and becoming covering to his head without a struggle, and stood, calmly awaiting the savage, with his rifle clubbed and his feet braced for a powerful blow. Perceiving this, his foe halted within ten paces, and with all the vengeful force of a vigorous arm, threw his tomahawk full at Joe's face. "With the rapidity of lightning it whirled through the air ; but Joe, equally quick in his movements, dodged it, .suffering only a slight cut on the left shoulder as it passed, when he " went in." The Indian darted into the bushes, successfully dodging the blows made at his head by the now enraged hunter, who, becoming excited to madness at the failure of his previous efforts, gathered all his strength for a final blow, which the cunning savage dodged as before, while the rifle, which by this time had become reduced to the sim ple barrel, struck a tree and flew out of Joe's hands at least ten feet into the bushes. The Indian sprung to his feet and confronted him. Both empty- handed, they stood for a moment, measuring each the other's strength; it was but a moment, for the blood was flowing freelv 70 JOK LOGSTON S FIGHT WITH AN INDIAN. ? from the wound in Joe's breast, and the other thinking him more seriously wounded than he really was, and expecting to take advan tage of his weakness, closed with him, intending to throw him. In this, however, he reckoned without his host. In less time than it takes to recount it, he found himself at full length on his back, with Joe on top. Slipping from under him with the agility of an eel they were both on their feet again and again closed. This time the savage was more wary, but the same result followed he was again beneath his opponent. But having the advantage of Joe, in being naked to his breech-cloth, and oiled from head to foot, he could easily slip from the grasp of the hunter and resume his perpendicular. Six different times was he thrown with the same effect ; but victory fickle jade seemed disposed to perch on the banner of neither of the combatants. There were no admiring thousands looking on at this exciting "mill" no seconds to insist upon fairness and preserve the rules of the ring only one poor wounded spectator, and two foes fighting not for fame but life. By this time they had, in their struggles and contortions, returned to the open path, and Joe resolved upon a change of tactics. He was becoming sensibly weaker from loss of blood, while, on the other hand, the savage seemed to lose none of his strength by the many falls he had experienced. Closing again in a close hug, they fell as before; this time, instead of endeavoring to keep his antago nist down, Joe sprung at once to his feet, and, as his antagonist came up, dealt him a blow with his fist between the eyes, which, felled him like an ox, at the same time falling with all his might upon his body. This was repeated every time he rose, and began to tell with fear ful effect upon the savage's body as well as his face, for Joe was no light weight, and at every succeeding fall the Indian came up weaker, seeming finally disposed to retreat ; this his opponent decidedly ob jected to ; his " spunk was up ;" he dealt his blows more rapidly, until the savage lay apparently insensible at his feet. Falling upon him, he grasped the Indian's throat with a grip like a vice, intending to strangle him. He soon found that the savage was " playing pos sum," and that some movement was going forward, the purport of which he could not immediately guess. Following with his eye the 71 TALES AND TRADITIONS. direction of the movement, Joe found that he was trying to disen gage his knife which was in his belt, but the handle of which was so short that it had slipped down beyond reach, and lie was working it up by pressing on the point. Joe watched the effort with deep interest, and when it was worked up sufficient for his purpose, seized it, and with one powerful blow drove it to the owner's heart, leaving him quivering in the agonies of death. Springing to his feet the victor now bethought him of the other red-skin, and looked around to discover him. He still lay, with his back broken by Joe's ball, where he had fallen, and, having his piece loaded, was trying to raise himself upright to fire it ; but every time he brought it to his shoulder he would tumble forward and have again to renew the effort. Concluding that he had had enough fighting for exercise, and knowing that the wounded Indian could not escape, Joe took his way to the fort. Although he presented a frightful sight when he reached there his clothes being torn nearly from his person, which was covered with blood and dirt from his head to his feet yet his account was hardly believed by some of his comrades, who thought it one of Joe's " big stories," which had the reputation of being as big as him self, though not half so well authenticated. " Go and satisfy your selves," said he; and a party started for the battle-ground, where their suppositions were confirmed, as there were no Indians about, and no evidence of them, except Joe's dead horse in the path. On looking carefully about, however, they discovered a trail which led a little way into the bushes, where they discovered the body of the big Indian buried under the dead leaves by the side of a stump. Following on, they found the corpse of the second, with his own knife thrust into his heart and his grasp still upon it, to show that he died by his own hand. Nowhere could they discover the knife with which Joe had killed the big Indian. They found it at last, thrust into the ground, where it had been forced by the heel of his wounded companion, who must have suffered the most intense agony while endeavoring to hide .all traces of the white man's victory. Joe got the credit for his story, while his comrades universally lamented that they had not been spectators of this pugilistic encoun ter between " big Indian " and " big Joe." 72 THE SARGEANT'S STRATAGEM. 9 Another one of the forest scenes which stand out so vividly in pictures of American life, occurs to us. It is unique in its character, and will excite a smile, as well as a feeling of admiration for the tact and courage which enacted it. In the early part of the Revolutionary war, a sargeant and twelve armed men undertook a journey through the wilderness, in the State of New Hampshire. Their route was remote from any settlements, and they were under the necessity of encamping over night in the woods. Nothing material happened the first day of their excursion ; but early in the afternoon of the second, they, from an eminence, discovered a body of armed Indians advancing toward them, whose number rather exceeded their own. As soon as the whites were perceived by their red brethren, the latter made signals, and the two parties approached each other in an amicable manner. The Indians appeared to be much gratified with meeting the sargeant and his men, whom they observed they considered as their protect ors ; said they belonged to a tribe which had raised the hatchet with zeal in the cause of liberty, and were determined to do all in their power to repel the common enemy. They shook hands in friendship, and it was, " How d'ye do, pro, how d'ye do, pro," that being their pronunciation of the word brother. When they had conversed with each other for some time, and exchanged mutual good wishes, they at length separated, and each party traveled in a different direction. After proceeding to the distance of a mile or more, the sargeant, who was acquainted with all the different tribes, and knew on which side of the contest they were respectively ranked, halted his men and addressed them in the following words : " My brave companions, we must use the utmost caution, or this night may be our last. Should we not make some extraordinary exertions to defend ourselves, to-morrow's sun may find us sleeping never to wake. You are surprised, comrades, at my words, and your anxiety will not be lessened, when I inform you, that we have just passed our most inveterate foe, who, under the mask of pre tended friendship you have witnessed, would lull us to security, and by such means, in the unguarded moments of our midnight slumber, without resistance, seal our fate." The men with astonishment listened to this short harangue ; and 73 10 TALES AND TRADITIONS. their surprise was greater, as not one of them had entertained the suspicion but they had just encountered friends. They all imme diately resolved to enter into some scheme for their mutual preser vation and destruction of their enemies. By the proposal of their leader, the following plan was adopted and executed : The spot selected for their night's encampment was near a stream of water, which served to cover their rear. They felled a large tree, before which on the approach of night, a brilliant fire was lighted. Each individual cut a log of wood about the size of his body, rolled it nicely in his blanket, placed his hat upon the extrem ity, and laid it before the fire, that the enemy might be deceived, and mistake it for a man. After logs equal in number to the sar- geant's party were thus fitted out, and so artfully arranged that they might be easily mistaken for so many soldiers, the men with loaded muskets placed themselves behind the fallen tree, by which time the shades of evening began to close arouud. The fire was supplied in fuel, and kept burning brilliantly until late in the evening, when it was suffered to decline. The critical time was now approaching, when an attack might be expected from the Indians ; but the sar- geant's men rested in their place of concealment with great anxiety till near midnight, without perceiving any movement of the enemy. At length a tall Indian was discovered through the glimmering of the fire, cautiously moving toward them, making no noise, and apparently using every means in his power to conceal himself from any one about the camp. For a time his actions showed him to be suspicious that a guard might be stationed to watch any unusual appearance, who would give the alarm in case of danger ; but all appearing quiet, he ventured forward more boldly, rested upon his toes, and was distinctly seen to move his finger as he numbered each log of wood, or what he supposed to be a human being quietly en joying repose. To satisfy himself more fully as to the number, he counted them over a second time, and cautiously retired. He was succeeded by another Indian, who went through the same move ments, and retired in the same manner. Soon after the whole party, sixteen in number, were discovered approaching, and greedily eyeing their supposed victims. The feelings of the sargeant's men can better be imagined than described, when they saw the base and cruel 74 THE SARGEANT'S BTKATAGEM. 11 purpose of their enemies, who were now so near that they could scarcely be restrained from firing upon them. The plan, however, of the sargeant, was to have his men remain silent in their places of concealment till the muskets of the savages were discharged, that their own fire might be more effectual, and opposition less formi dable. Their -suspense was not of long duration. The Indians, in a body, cautiously approached, till within a short distance ; they then halted, took deliberate aim, discharged their pieces upon inanimate logs, gave the dreadful warwhoop, and instantly rushed forward with tomahawk and scalping-knife in hand, to despatch the living, and obtain the scalps of the dead. As soon as they had collected in close order, more effectually to execute their horrid intentions, the party of the sargeant, with unerring aim, discharged their pieces, not on logs of wood, but perfidious savages, not one of whom escaped destruction by the snare into which they led themselves. There must have been a touch of grim humor about that sargeant as well as of cool courage. Many instances are on record of those days of danger where either in battle or in the settlement of new countries,- the cruel and crafty red-man had to be encountered where the minds of men have been thrown from their balance by the sight of barbarities, or the suffering of afflictions, which overthrow their shuddering reasons. Some men have been called monomaniacs, from the fact of their rest less and rankling hatred of the race who had inflicted some great misery upon them or theirs. But it is hardly strange that when they saw those savages behave worse than tigers, they decided to treat them like wild beasts, and that they were justified in the attempt to exterminate them. There must be men in Minnesota, at this day, who are monomaniacs on the subject of the red-skins. One of the most noted of these Indian haters was John Moredock, of Kentucky ; and these are the circumstances which made him so, as given in a fine paper on the early settlers, in Harper's Magazine .for 1861: Toward the end of the last century there lived at Yincennes a woman whose whole life had been spent on the frontier. She had been widowed four or five times by the Indians ; her last husband, 75 IS TALES AND TRADITIONS. whose name was Moredock, had been killed a few years before the time of which we speak. But she had managed to bring up a large family in a respectable manner. Now, when her sons were growing up, she resolved to better their condition by moving " West." The whole of Illinois was a blooming waste of prairie land, except in a few places where stood the trading-posts built a hundred years before by the French. The lower peninsula of Illinois was not of a nature to attract emigrants when so much finer lauds were to be found on the banks of the Great River and its tributaries ; nor was a land journey over that marshy region, infested as it was by roving bauds of savages, to be lightly undertaken, when the two rivers furnished a so mucu more easy though circuitous way to the delightful region beyond. Hence it was usual for a company of those intending to make the journey to purchase a sufficient number of pirogues, or keel-boats, in them descend the Ohio, and then ascend the Mississippi to the mouth of the Kaskaskia, or any other destined point. By adopting this mode of traveling all serious danger of Indian attacks was avoided, except at one or two points on the latter stream, where it was necessary to land and draw the boats around certain obstructions in the channel. To one of these companies the Moredock family joined itself several of the sons being sufficiently well-grown to take a part not only in the ordinary labors of the voyage but in any conflict that might occur. All went well with the expedition until they reached the rock known as the " Grand Tower" on the Mississippi, almost within sight of their destination. Here, supposing themselves to be out of danger, the men carelessly leaped on shore to drag the boats up against the current, which here rushed violently around the -base of the cliff. The women and children, fifteen or twenty in number, tired of being cooped in the narrow cabins for three or four weeks, thoughtlessly followed. While the whole party were thus making their way slowly along the narrow space between the perpendicular precipice on one hand, the well-known yell of savage onset rung in their ears, and a volley of rifles from above stretched half a dozen of the number dead in their midst, while almost at the same mo ment a band of the painted demons appeared at each end of the fatal pass. The experienced border men, who saw at a glance that 76 THE GRAND TOWER MASSACRE. 18 their condition was hopeless, stood for one moment overwhelmed with consternation; but in the next the spirit of the true Indian fighter awoke within their hearts, and they faced their assailants with hopeless but desperate valor. The conflict that ensued was only a repetition of the scene which the rivers and woods of the West had witnessed a thousand times before, in which all the boasted strength and intelligence of the whites had been baffled by the superior cunning of the red-men. " Battle Rock," " Murder Creek," " Bloody Run," and hundreds of similar names scattered throughout our land, are but so many char acters in that stern epitaph which the aborigines, during their slow retreat across the continent toward the Rocky Mountains, and anni hilation, have written for themselves in the blood of the destroying race. The history of Indian warfare contains no passage more fear ful than is to be found in the narrative of the massacre at the Grand Tower of the Mississippi. Half armed, surprised, encumbered with their women and children, and taken in so disadvantageous a situa tion, being all huddled together on a narrow sand-beach, with their enemies above and on either side, their most desperate efforts availed not even to postpone their fate ; and in the space of ten minutes after the warning yell was heard, the mangled bodies of forty men, women and children lay heaped upon the narrow strip of sand. The conflict had ended in the complete destruction of the emigrant com pany so complete that the savages imagined not a single survivor remained to carry the disastrous tidings to the settlements. But one such wretched survivor, however, there was. John Moredock, who, having fought like a young tiger until all hope of saving even a part of the unfortunate company was lost, and who then, favored by the smoke, and the eagerness of the assailants for scalps, and the plunder of the boats, glided through the midst of the savages and nestled himself in a cleft of the rocks. Here he lay for hours, sole spectator of a scene of Indian ferocity which transformed his young heart to flint, and awoke that thirst for revenge which continued to form the ruling sentiment of his future life, and which raged as insatiably on the day of his death, forty years later, when he had become a man of mark, holding high offices in his adopted State, as it did when crouching among the rocks of the Grand 77 14 TALES AND TRADITIONS. Tower; and, beholding the bodies of his mother, sisters and brothers mangled by the Indian tomahawk, he bound himself by a solemn oath never from that moment to spare one of the accursed race who might come within reach of his arm ; and especially to track the footsteps of the marauding band who had just swept away all that he loved on earth, until the last one should have paid the penalty of life for life. How long he remained thus concealed he never knew ; but at length, as the sun was setting, the Indians departed, and John More- dock stepped forth from his hiding-place, not what he had entered it, a brave, light-hearted lad of nineteen, the pride of a large family circle and the favorite of a whole little colony of borderers, but an orphan and an utter stranger in a strange land, standing alone amidst the ghastly and disfigured corpses of his family and friends. He had hoped to find some life still lingering amidst the heaps of car nage ; but all, all had perished. Having satisfied himself of this fact, the lonely boy now transformed into that most fearful of all beings, a thoroughly desperate man quitted the place, and, guiding himself by the stars, struck across the prairie toward the nearest settlement on the Kaskaslda, where he arrived the next morning, bringing to the inhabitants the first news of the massacre which had taken place so near their own village, and the first warning of the near approach of the prowling baud which had been for several months depreciating, at various points along that exposed frontier, in spite of the treaties lately made by their nations with the Federal Government. John Moredock was by nature formed for a leader in times of danger, and his avowed determination to revenge the massacre of his friends and kindred by the extirpation of the murderous band coincided so exactly with the feelings of the frontiersmen, that, in spite of his lack of previous acquaintance, he in a few days found himself at the head of a company of twenty-five or thirty young men, whose lives had been spent in the midst of all kinds of perils and hardships, and who now bound themselves to their leader by an oath never to give up the pursuit until the last one of the marauding band engaged in the attack at Grand Tower should be slain. Stanch as a pack of blood-hounds this little company of avengers 78 JOHN MOREDOCK'S REVENGE. 15 ranged the frontier from the Des Moines to the Ohio, now almost within reach of their victims, and now losing all trace of them on the boundless prairies over which they roamed, unconscious of the doom by which they were being so hotly but stealthily pursued. Once, indeed, the whites came up with their game on the banks of a tributary of the Missouri, a hundred and fifty miles beyond the ut most line of the settlements ; but as the Indians, though unsuspi cious of any -particular danger, had pitched their camp in a spot at once easy to defend and to escape from, and as Moredock wished to destroy and not to disperse them, he forbore striking a partial blow, and resolved rather to postpone, his revenge than to enjoy it incom pletely. Fortune, however, seemed to repay him for this act of self-restraint by presenting the very opportunity he had sought, when, a few weeks afterward, he discovered the whole gang of marauders en camped for the night oil a small island in the middle of the Missis sippi. After a hasty consultation with his companions, a course of procedure was determined upon which strikingly displays both the 'monomanical tendency of the leader and the desperate ascendancy he had acquired over his followers. This was nothing less than to shut themselves up on that narrow sand-bar and to engage the sav ages in a hand-to-hand conflict a conflict from which neither party could retreat, and which must necessarily end in the total destruc tion of one or the other. A most desperate undertaking truly, when we reflect that the numbers of the combatants were about equal, and that lo surprise an Indian encampment was next to impossible. But John Moredock, and, probably, more than one of his companions, were monomaniacs, and considerations of personal danger never en tered into their calculations. Revenge, not safety, was their object, and they took little thought of the latter when the opportunity of compassing the former was presented. Slowly and stealthil} 1 ", therefore, the canoes approached the island when all sounds there had ceased, and the flame of the camp-fire had sunk into a pale-red glow, barely marking the position of the doomed party among the undergrowth with which the central por tion of the little isle was covered. The Indians, confiding in their natural watchfulness, seldom place sentinels around their camps ; and 79 16 TALES AND TRADITIONS. thus Moredock and his baud reached the island without being dis covered. A few moments sufficed to set their own canoes as well as those of the Indians adrift, and then, with gun in hand and tom ahawk ready, they glided noiselessly, as so many panthers, into the thicket, separating as they advanced so as to approach the camp from different quarters. All remained still as death for many min utes while the assailants were thus closing in around their prey, and not a twig snapped, and scarcely a leaf stirred in the thick jungle through which thirty armed men were making their way in as many different directions, but all converging toward the same point, where a pale glimmer indicated the position of the unsuspected savages. But though an Indian camp may be easily approached within a cer tain distance, it is almost impossible, if there be any considerable number of them, to actually strike its occupants while asleep. As savages, roaming at large over the face of the continent without fixed habitations, and relying upon chance for the supply of their few wants, they know nothing of that regularity of habit which de votes certain fixed portions of time to the various purposes of life, but each one eats, sleeps or watches, just as his own feelings may dictate at the moment, without any regard to established usages of time or place. Hence the probability of finding all the members of an Indian party asleep at the same time is small indeed. On the present occasion two or three warriors, who were smoking over the embers, caught the alarm before the assailants had quite closed in. Still the surprise gave the white men a great advantage, and half a dozen of the savages were shot down in their tracks be fore they comprehended the meaning of the hideous uproar, which suddenly broke the midnight stillness as Moredock and his company, finding their approach discovered, rushed in upon them. This fatal effect of the first volley was a lucky thing for the adventurers ; fir the Indians are less liable to panics than almost any other people, and they closed with their assailants with a fury that, combined with their superior skill in nocturnal conflict, would have rendered the issue of the struggle a very doubtful matter had the number of combatauts been more nearly even. As it was, the nimble warriors fought their way against all odds to the point where their canoes had been moored. Here, finding their expected means of flight 80 JOHN MOREDOCK'S REVENGE. 17 removed, and exposed upon the naked sand-beach, the survivors still made desperate battle until all were slain except three, who plunged boldly into the stream, and, aided by the darkness, succeeded in reaching the main land in safety. Twenty-seven of those engaged in the massacre at the Grand Tower had been destroyed at a single blow. But three had escaped from the bloody trap, and while these lived the vengeance of John Moredock was unsatisfied. They must perish, and he determined that it should be by his own hand. He therefore dismissed his faithful band, and thenceforth continued the pursuit alone. Having learned the names of the three survivors he easily tracked them from place to place, as they roamed about in a circuit of three or foui hundred miles. Had the wretches known what avenger of blood was thus dogging their tracks, the whole extent of the conti nent would not have afforded space enough for their flight, or its most retired nook a sufficiently secure retreat. But quite as relent less Moredock pursued his purpose, and but few even of his acquaint ances knew the motive of his ceaseless journey along the frontiers from Green Bay to the mouth of the Ohio, and far into the unset tled wastes beyond the Mississippi. At length, about two years after the massacre of his family at the Tower, he returned to Kaskaskia, having completed his terrible task, and bearing the scalp of the last of the murderers at his girdle. Moredock lived to be a popular and leading man in his State, an office-holder, a kind neighbor and beloved head of a family, yet he never relaxed in his hatred of the race who had poisoned the fount ain of youthful hope for him. 81 TALES AND TRADITIONS. DEBORAH SAMPSON, THE MAIDEN WARRIOR. THERE comes to us, from the days of chivalry, in song and story, legends of ladies who followed their lords to the distant field of Palestine, hiding their soft hearts under the disguise of the page's dress. Time, the romancer, has thrown his enchanting vail over their adventures, surrounding them with the grace of mystery and the glory of sentiment. Perhaps in the far-away future of our immortal republic, young men and maidens will dream over the story of DEBORAH SAMPSON, the girl-soldier of that Revolution which won us our liberties. It will not be said that she donned the uniform and shouldered the musket for the sake of some dear lover, that she might ever be near to watch over him in the hour of danger, and to nurse him if wounded, with all the tender solicitude of woman's love ; but it will be told that she went into the service of her country because men were few and her heart was in the cause. She had health and courage, and that high patriotism which burned alike in manly and feminine breasts. That she was brave, is proven by her being twice wounded in battle. There is no need of putting any other construction than that of pure patriotism upon her actions ; the steadiness with which she performed her duties show that it was no wild love of adventure which possessed her. Deborah Sampson was born in the county of Plymouth, Massa chusetts. Her parents were poor and vicious, and their children were taken from them by the hand of charity, to be placed with dif ferent families, where there was a prospect of their being better cared for. Deborah found a home with a respectable farmer, by whom she was treated as one of the family, except in the matter of education. To overcome this deprivation she used to borrow the books of school children, over which she pored until she learned to read tolerably well. This simple fact reveals that her mind was no ordinary one. She was a true child of New England, ambitious to be 82 DEBORAH SAMPSON, THE MAIDEN WARRIOR. 19 the equal of those by whom she was surrounded, and looking upon ignorance almost as degradation. Many of our now famous minds began their, culture in this humble way, by the side of the kitchen fire, perhaps with a pine-torch, by the light of which to pursue their eager groping after knowledge. As soon as the completion of her eighteenth year released her from indenture, she hastened to seek a situation in which to improve herself, and made arrangements with a family to work one-half her time for her board and lodging, while, during the other half, she attended the district-school. Her improvement was so rapid, that in a comparatively short space of time she was thought competent to teach, and by doing so for one term, the ambitious girl amassed the sum of twelve dollars ! In all this we see the remarkable energy and force of character which enabled her to carry out the career she afterward chose. The young bound-girl who so soon would raise herself to the position of teacher, must have had in her elements, which, had she been a man, would have urged her to the perform ance of deeds that would have given her prominence in those stir ring days. While Deborah was teaching^ her little summer school, the spirit of resistance to tyranny which long had struggled toward the light, burst forth over the whole country, never to be hid again. The first battle had been fought at Lexington ; the sound of the cannon had rolled from Bunker Hill in echoes which would not die. They thrilled and trembled along the air, in never-ending vibrations, smit ing the ears of patriots, and rousing their hearts to the duties and perils of the hour. Deborah, in her little schoolroom, heard the sound. For her it had a peculiar message ; it called her she could not resist 1 Something in her courageous breast told her that she was as well fitted to serve her beloved country as the young men, who, wLL kindling eyes and eager feet, were rushing to its assist ance. Walking slowly home from her school, along the lonely road, looking out at night from the little window of her chamber at the stars, she pondered the voice in her heart. The more she thought, the more earnest she became in her desire. There was no reason why she should silence the resolution which called her. She was accountable to none ; was friendless, without kindred or home. Why 83 *U TALES AND TRADITIONS. was she given this vigorous and healthy frame, and this heroic heart, if not for the service of her suffering country ? Perhaps Providence had loosened her from other ties, that she might attach herself solely to this holy cause. With such arguments as these she quieted the timidity which arose solely from maidenly fears that she might be detected in her plans, and subjected to the embarrassment of being refused or ridiculed on account of her sex. With that humble wealth of twelve dollars she purchased the ma terials for a suit of men's clothing. Upon the cloth she worked secretly, as she found the opportunity, each article, upon comple tion, being hidden in a stack of hay. When -her arrangements were completed she announced a determination to seek better wages, and took her departure, without her real purpose being suspected. When far enough away to feel secure, she donned her male attire, and pursued her way to the American army, where she presented herself in October, 1778, as a young man anxious to join his efforts to those of his countrymen in their endeavors to oppose the common enemy. She is described as being, at this time, of very prepossessing features, and intelligent, animated expression, with a fine, tall form, and such an air of modest courage and freshness as inspired confi dence and respect in those who had become associated with her. She was gladly received, as a promising recruit, and enrolled in the army under the name of Robert Shirtliffe, the period of her enlist ment being for the war. While the company was recruiting she was an inmate of the Cap tain's family, and, by her exemplary conduct, won the esteem of all. A young girl, visiting in the family, was much in the company of young " Robert ;" and, being of a coquettish disposition priding herself, perhaps, on the conquest of the young soldier she suffered her partiality to be noticed. " Robert," having no objections to see how easily a maiden's heart could be won, encouraged the feeling, until the Captain's wife, becoming alarmed, took occasion to remon strate with the youth upon the subject. " Robert " took the matter in good part, and the affair ended in the exchange of some few tokens of remembrance at parting. At the end of six or seven weeks, the company being full, was ordered to join the main army, and Deborah's military life 84 DEBORAH SAMPSON, THE MAIDEN WARRIOR. 21 commenced in earnest. The record does not give all the details of her career, though the record of a life in camp and on the field, under such circumstances, must be full of interest. She herself has said that volumes might be filled with her adventures. She performed her duties to the entire satisfaction of her officers ; was a volunteer on several expeditions of a hazardous nature, and was twice wounded severely ; the first time by a sword-cut on the side of her head, and the second by a bullet-wound through the shoulder. She served three years, and, during all that time, her sex never was suspected, though often in circumstances where detection seemed unavoidable. The soldiers nicknamed her "Molly," in playful allusion to her want of a beard ; but little did they suspect that their gallant comrade was, indeed, a woman. The last wound which she received, of a bullet through her shoulder, gave her great uneasiness, for fear that the surgeon, upon dressing it, would discover the deception which had been so long and so successfully practiced. She always described the emotion, when the ball entered, to be one of mental, not of physical anguish a sickening terror at the probability of her sex being revealed. She felt that death on the battle-field would be preferable to the shame she would suffer in such a case, and prayed rather to die than to be betrayed. Strange as it may appear, she again escaped undetected. Recovering rapidly, she soon resumed her place in the ranks, as brave and willing as ever. Sickness, however, was destined to bring about the catastrophe which the perils of the battle-field had never precipitated. She was seized with brain fever, then prevailing among the soldiers. For the few days that reason struggled with the disease her sufferings were great ; and these were intensely aggravated by her mental anxiety that ever-present fear, lest, during her unconsciousness, her carefully- guarded secret should become known. She was carried to the hospital, where the number of the patients and the negligent manner in which they were attended still secured her escape. Her case was considered hopeless, on which account she received still less atten tion. She continued to sink, until consciousness was gone, and life itself trembled on the faintest breath which ever held it. One day, the surgeon of the hospital inquiring "how Robert 85 22 TALES AND TRADITIONS. was ?" received assurance from the nurse that " poor Bob was gone." Going to the bed, and taking the wrist of the youth, he found the pulse still feebly beating. Attempting to place his hand on the heart, he found a bandage bound tightly over the breast. Then it was that the secret of the girl-soldier became known to the physi cian ; but if she had been his own daughter he could not have guarded it more delicately. Deborah had fallen into good hands, in this crisis of her affairs. It was Dr. Biruey, of Philadelphia, who was then in attendance at the hospital. Without communicating his discovery to any one, he gave his patient such care that she was raised from the grave, as it were ; and when sufficiently recovered to be removed, he had her conveyed to his own house, where she was the recipient of every kind attention from the family as long as she remained r.n invalid. And now occurred another of those romantic episodes which give an interest to the history of our hero-heroine. If Deborah Sampson had indeed been the " Robert " she professed to be, she would have been a favorite with the softer sex ; since, without her ceeking it, twice the affections of fair maidens were laid at her feet. We may conjecture, to the credit of the fair sex, that the purity and modesty of " Robert " his unassuming excellence and womanly goodness, had much to do with success in this line. A niece of the doctor's, a young and wealthy lady, became in terested in the youth whom she had aided in restoring to health, by her attentions. " Pity," which is " akin to love," gradually melted into that warmer feeling. The modest and handsome young man, who shrunk from taking the slightest advantage of he" kindness, aroused all the compassion and sensibility of her heart. Lovely and young, conscious that many, more influential than he, would be honored to sue for her hand, she yet allowed her affectio.is to turn to the pale and unassuming, the humble and poor, soldier. The uncle was warned of his imprudence in allowing the yojmg couple to be so much together, but he laughed in his sleeve at such sugges tions, tickling his fancy with the idea of how foolish the censorious would feel when the truth should be made known. He had not confided his knowledge even to the members of his own lamily. It is not probable that he really believed his niece's feelings were 86 DEBORAH SAMPSON, THE MAIDEN WARRIOR. 23 becoming so warmly interested, or lie would have given her a suffi cient caution ; she was allowed to be with the convalescent as much as she liked. At first the heart of "Robert" opened to this innocent and lovely girl, whom she loved as a sister, and whose gentle kindness was so winning; she showed the gratitude which she felt, and perhaps even confided to her some of the lonely emotions which had so long remained unspoken in her breast ; but it was not long before the young soldier, warned by past experience, felt apprehensive of the return of affection which she received, and strove, delicately, to withdraw from, the painful position in which she was being placed. Taking this shrinking embarrassment for the sensitive modesty of one who, friendless and poor, dared not aspire to the hand of one so much above him in social position, the fair heiress, trusting the evident goodness of his heart, and actuated alike by love and the noblest generosity, made known her attachment to " Robert," and signified her willingness to furnish him the means of fitting himself for such a station, and then to marry him. When Deborah beheld this guileless young creature, with blushes and tears, making this unexpected and unwelcome avowal, she felt, with bitter pain, the position in which she was placed. Then she wished that she indeed was the Robert Shirtliffe she had assumed to be, rather than wound the feelings of one to whom she was so much indebted, by a refusal of what had been so timidly offered. Yet to reveal her true character would be still more awkward and painful. The wounded sensibility of the young girl did not, in that hour, cause her so much suffering, as the remorse and regret of the false "Robert" caused him. Saying that they should meet again, and that, though ardently desiring an education, she could not accept her noble offer, Deborah endeavored to hurt the sensitive girl as little as possible, while with drawing from the dilemma in which she was placed. Shortly after, she departed, taking with her several articles of clothing, such as in those days were frequent gifts to the soldiers from the hands of fair women, and which were pressed upon her acceptance by the young lady. The denouement rapidly followed her recovery. The physician 87 24 TALES AND TRADITIONS. had a conference with the commanding officer of the company with, which Robert had served, which was followed by an order to the youth to carry a letter to General Washington. She now became aware, for the first time, that her secret was known, and that detec tion was no longer avoidable. She had suspected that Dr. Birney knew more than he had given intimation of, but her most anxious scrutiny of his words and countenance had never assured her of the truth of her fears. Now that the worst was come, she Lad no way but to meet it with that courage which was a part of her nature. Yet she would rather have faced the fire of the British cannon than to have confronted Washington with that letter in her hand. Trembling and confused, she presented herself before the Com- rnander-in-Chief, who, noticing her extreme agitation, with his usual kindness endeavored to restore her confidence ; but finding her still so abashed, bade her retire with an attendant, who was ordered to procure her some refreshment, while the General read the letter of which she had been the bearer. When she was recalled to his presence, he silently put into her hand a discharge from service, along with a brief note of advice, and a sum of money sufficient to bear her to some place where she might find a home. Very glad and grateful was she to escape thus unrebuked out of that presence. After the war she married ; and while Washington was President she paid a visit -to the seat of Government on his invitation. She was received with every attention. Congress was then in session, and passed a bill granting her a pension for life. She lived in comfortable circumstances, passing from the stage of human life at an advanced age. It is probable that, after several generations of historians, poets and romance writers have embellished the story of Deborah Samp son, she will become invested, to the eyes of our descendants, with a glory like that which encircles the memory of the Maid of Orleans. There is an incident of a most romantic and touching nature, connected with the history of the brave Sergeant Jasper, of Marion's brigade. A young girl, in this instance, followed the fortunes of war, not out of patriotic motives, like those which inspired Deborah Sampson, but impelled by a love which no wildest romance of the SALLY ST. CLAIR. 27 olden time can more than match. The page who drew the poison from her lover's wound, on the distant plains of the Holy Land, proved not so devoted as this young American girl, throwing her tender bosom between Jasper's heart and death. Sergeant Jasper was one of the bravest of Marion's men, possess ing remarkable talents as a scout, and often chosen for such expe ditions. He was one of those of whom Bryant says : "Our band is few, but true and tried, Our leader frank and bold ; The British soldier trembles When Marion's name is told. Our fortress is the good greenwood, Our tent the cypress tree ; We know the forest.'round us, As seamen know the sea. We know its walls of thorny vines, Its glades of reedy grass, Its safe and silent islands Within the dark morass." Sometime just before, or about the beginning of the war, Jasper had the good fortune to save the life of a young, beautiful, and dark- eyed Creole girl, called Sally St. Clair. Her susceptible nature was overcome with gratitude to her preserver, and this soon ripened into a passion of love, of the most deep and fervent kind. She lavished upon him the whole wealth of her affections, and the whole depths of a passion nurtured by a Southern sun. When he was called upon to join the ranks of his country's defenders, the prospect of their separation almost maddened her. Their parting came, but scarcely was she left alone, ere her romantic nature prompted the means of a reunion. Once resolved, no consideration of danger could dampen her spirit, and no thought of consequences could move her purpose. She severed her long and jetty ringlets, and provided herself with male attire. In these she robed herself, and set forth to follow the fortunes of her lover. A smooth-faced, beautiful and delicate stripling appeared among the hardy, rough and giant frames' who composed the corps to which Jasper belonged. The contrast between the stripling and these men, in their uncouth garbs, their massive faces, embrowned and discolored by sun and rain, was indeed striking. But none 91 28 TALES AND TRADITIONS. were more eager for the battle, or so indifferent to fatigue, as the fair-faced boy. It was found that his energy of character, resolution and courage amply supplied his lack of physique. None ever sus pected him to be a woman. Not even Jasper himself, although she was often by his side, penetrated her disguise. The romance of her situation increased the fervor of her passion. It was her delight to reflect that, unknown to him, she was by his side, watching over him in the hour of danger. She fed her passion by gazing upon him in the hour of slumber, hovering near him when stealing through the swamp and thicket, and being always ready to avert danger from his head. But gradually there stole a melancholy presentiment over the poor girl's mind. She had been tortured with hopes deferred ; the war was prolonged, and the prospect of being restored to him grew more and more uncertain. But now she felt that her dream of happiness could never be realized. She became convinced that death wa about to snatch her away from his side, but she prayed that she might die, and he never know to what length the violence of her passion led her. It was an eve before a battle. The camp had sunk into repose. The watchfires were burning low, and only the slow tread of sen tinels fell upon the profound silence of the night air, as they moved through the dark shadows of the forest. Stretched upon the ground, with no other couch than a blanket, reposed the warlike form of Jasper. Climbing vines trailed themselves into a canopy above his head, through which the stars shone down softly. The faint flicker from the expiring embers of a fire fell athwart his countenance, and tinged the cheek of one who bent above his couch. It was the smooth-faced stripling. She bent low down as if to listen to his dreams, or to breathe into his soul pleasant visions of love and hap piness. But tears trace themselves down the fair one's cheek, and fall silently but rapidly upon the brow of her lover. A mysterious voice has told her that the hour of parting has come ; that to-morrow her destiny is consummated. There is one last, long, lingering look, and then the unhappy maid is seen to tear herself away from the spot, to weep out her sorrows in privacy. Fierce and terrible is the conflict that on the morrow rages on 92 EMILY GEIGEB. 29 that spot. Foremost in the battle is the intrepid Jasper, and ever by his side fights the stripling warrior. Often during the heat and the smoke, gleams suddenly upon the eyes of Jasper the melancholy face of the maiden. In the thickest of the fight, surrounded by enemies, the lovers fight side by side. Suddenly a lance is leveled at the breast of Jasper ; but swifter than the lance is Sally St. Clair. There is a wild cry, and at the feet of Jasper sinks the maiden, with the life-blood gushing from the white bosom, which had been thrown, as a shield, before his breast. He heeds not now the din, nor the danger of the conflict, but down by the side of the dying boy he kneels. Then for the first time does he learn that the stripling is his love ; that often by the camp-fire, and in the swamp, she had been by his side ; that the dim visions, in his slumber, of an angel face hovering above him, had indeed been true. In the midst of the battle, with her lover by her side, and the barb still in her bosom, the heroic maiden dies ! Her name, her sex, and her noble devotion soon became known through the corps. There was a tearful group gathered around her grave; there was not one of those hardy warriors who did not bedew her grave with tears. They buried her near the river Sautee, " in a green, shady nook, that looked as if it had been stolen out of Paradise." The ^yomen of the Revolution won a noble name by the part they took in the conflict which has secured for their descendants so glo rious an inheritance. Privations of all kinds they endured patiently, joyfully sending their dearest ones to the field, while they remained in their lonely homes, deprived of the care and society of fathers and sons ; finding their pleasantest relief from the heart-ache of grief and suspense in labors at the loom or with the needle for the benefit of the ill-provided soldiers. Many individual instances of female heroism are preserved, where the bravery of naturally timid hearts was tested in exposure to the rudest vicissitudes of war. They played the parts of spies, messen gers, and defenders. Among other anecdotes we have one of a young girl of North Carolina. At the time General Greene retreated before Lord Rawdon from Ninety-Six, when he had passed Broad Riyer, he was very desirous to send an order to General Sumter, 93 30 TALES AND TRADITIONS. who was on the Wateree, to join him, that they might attack Raw- tlon, who had divided his force. But the General could find no man in that portion of the State who was bold enough to undertake so dangerous a mission. The country to be passed through for many miles was full of bloodthirsty Tories, who, on every occasion that offered, imbrued their hands in the blood of the Whigs. At length this young girl, Emily Geiger, presented herself to General Greene, proposing to act as his messenger, and he, both surprised and delighted, closed with her proposal. He accordingly wrote a letter and delivered it, while, at the same time, he communicated the contents of it verbally, to be told to Sumter, in case of accident. She started off on horseback, and on the second day of her jour ney was intercepted by Lord Rawdou's scouts. Coming from the ifrrection of Greene's army, and not being able to tell an untruth without blushing, Emily was suspected and confined to a room ; but as the officer in command had the delicacy not to search her at the time, he sent for an old Tory matron to perform the duty. Emily was not wanting in expedient ; as soon as the door was closed, and the bustle a little subsided, she ate up the. Utter, piece by piece. After a while the matron arrived, who found nothing of a suspicious nature about the prisoner, though she made a careful search, and the young girl would disclose nothing. Suspicion being thus allayed, the officer commanding the scouts suffered Emily to depart whither she said she was bound ; she took a circuitous route to avoid further detection, soon after striking into the road which led to Su niter's camp, where she arrived in safety. Here she told her adventure and delivered Greene's verbal message to Sumter, who, in consequence, soon after Joined the main army at Orangeburg. This young heroine afterward married a rich planter, named Therwits, who lived on the Congaree. A similar adventure is related of Miss Moore, daughter of Captain Moore, who was present at Braddock's defeat, and who died in 1770. This girl was also a " daughter of the Carolinas." Alas, that the fair descendants of women so brave as these, should aid in imperiling the country and the cause for which their mothers sacrificed and suffered so much ! Her youth was passed among the eventful scenes of our Revolution, 94 BEHETHLAND MOORE. 31 and a number of incidents are related, that go to prove her calm courage, and her inflexibility of purpose. She was born in 1764, and, therefore, in the earlier part of the contest was nothing more than a child. The terrors of the war were often enacted before the very door of her step-father's residence. On one occasion, a most sanguinary skirmish took place just before the house, between a body of Colonel Washington's cavalry and some of Rawdon's men. Shortly after, a party of the British in search of plunder broke into the house. But the family had been forewarned, and concealed their treasures. In searching for plunder they discovered a quantity of apples, and began to roll them down the stairs, while the soldiers below picked them up. Miss Moore, nothing fearing, commanded them to desist, with an air so determined and resolute, that an officer standing by, admiring so courageous a spirit in a girl so young, ordered the soldiers to obey her. On another occasion, a party of Tories, in pillaging the house, commanded one of the servants to bring them the horses. Miss Moore commanded him not to obey. The Tories repeated the order, accompanied with a threat to beat him if he refused. The command of the young girl was reiterated, and just as the Tory was about putting his threat into execution, she threw herself between them, and preserved the slave from the intended violence. At one time, great danger was threatening Captain Wallace, who commanded a small force, a few miles distant. It was of the utmost importance that this intelligence should be conveyed to him, but there was no male whose services could be commanded, and, there fore, Miss Moore volunteered to convey the message herself. This was when she was but fifteen. Midnight was chosen as the hour, and accompanied by her little brother and a female friend, she set out in a canoe up the river toward the encampment of the Whigs. Silently and swiftly they propelled their frail vessel up the dark current, through forests buried in darkness, and a profound silence that awed them; with the calm stars above, and the deep river gloomily rolling by, and no human sounds to relieve the oppressive solemnity of the hour. It was the hour, too, when the enemy usually set out on their marauding expeditions, and the young girls 95 32 TALKS AND TRADITIONS. knew that neither their sex nor their innocence would preserve them from ruthless foes, who were more relentless and cruel than the swarthy savages of the forest. But the fate of many of their coun trymen depended on their exertions, and, as it proved, the future destiny of our heroine was involved in the successful issue of their enterprise. Undismayed by the perils of the journey, the j r oung girls bent their energies to the task before them, and at last saw lights glimmering in the distance, that pointed out their destination. They soon reached the encampment, a picturesque scene, with the ruddy glow from the camp-fires casting the surrounding scene in still greater shadow, and motley groups of figures gathered around the fires, sleeping, talking, eating, etc. After delivering the warning to Captain Wallace, the girls embarked in their canoe to return, and soon left the encampment behind, winding their way through dense forests, and reached their home in safety. The next morning, a handsome and gallant-looking American officer rode up to the door of Captain Savage's residence, and requested to make a few inquiries of the young lady by whose energy and zeal her countrymen had been saved from an impending danger. Miss Moore appeared, and when her youthful and bloom ing beauty greeted the eyes of the 3 r oung officer, an exclamation of pleasure burst from his lips. He almost forgot to make his inqui ries, until reminded by the blushing damsel, but her voice rather increased than relieved his embarrassment. All his questions having been at last answered, and having no excuse by which to prolong the interview, he was reluctantly compelled to depart, but his eyes to the last rested on the fair girl's form. It is said that the young lady was no less struck with the handsome dragoon's figure, and that his face came often to her in her dreams that night. It was not long before the young officer made an excuse for again visiting the house where resided the beauty who had bound him captive to her charms, and as these impressions were reciprocal, he soon discovered welcome in her manner, and drew happy auguries therefrom. He became an accepted suitor. But their love, in a measure, verified the old adage. The step-father opposed the union ; at first strenuously, but the perseverance of the lover gradually broke down his opposition, and he eventually yielded consent, LYDIA DARRAH. 33 This officer was Captain, afterward General, Butler. They were married in 1784. Mrs. Butler filled a distinguished place in society, being- celebrated both for her virtues and graces. Even the meek spirit of the non-resisting Quakers was roused to patriotic ardor by the noble stake for which the battles of the Revo lution were fought. In proof of what one of their women did in aid of the good cause, \ve have the following account of a signal service rendered by a Quakeress : When the British army held possession of Philadelphia, General Harris' head-quarters were in Second street, the fourth door below Spruce, in a house which was before occupied by General Cadwala- der. Directly opposite, resided William and Lydia Darrah, mem bers of the Society of Friends. A superior officer of the British army, believed to be the Adjutant-General, fixed upon one of their chambers, a back room, for private conference ; and two of them frequently met there, with fire and candles, in close consultation. About the second of December, the Adjutant-General told Lydia that vhey would be in the room at seven o'clock, and remain late, and that they wished the family to retire early to bed ; adding, that when they were going away, they would call her to let them out, and extinguish their fire and caudles. She accordingly sent all the family to bed ; but, as the officer had been so particular, her curiosity was excited. She took off her shoes, and pu,t her ear to the key hole of the conclave. She overheard an order read for all the British troops to march out, late in the evening of the fourth, and attack General Washington's army, then encamped at White Marsh. On hearing this, she returned to her chamber and laid herself down. Soon after, the officers knocked at her door, but she rose only at the third summons, having feigned to be asleep. Her mind was so much agitated that, from this moment, she could neither eat nor sleep, supposing it to be in her power to save the lives of thousands of her countrymen, but not knowing how she was to convey the necessary information to General Washington, nor daring to confide it even to her husband. The time left was, however, short ; she quickly determined to make her way, as soon as possible, to the American outposts. She informed her family, that, as they were in want of flour, she would go to Frankfort for some ; her husband 23 97 34 TALES AND TRADITIONS. insisted that she should take with her the servant-maid, but, to his surprise, she positively refused. She got access to General Howe, and solicited what he readily granted a pass through the British troops on the lines. Leaving her bag at the mill, she hastened toward the American lines, and encountered on her way an Ameri can, Lieutenant-Colonel Craig, of the light horse, who, with some of his men, was on the look-out for information. He knew her, and inquired whither she was going. She answered, in quest of her son, an officer in the American army, and prayed the Colonel to alight and walk with her. He did so, ordering his troops to keep in sight. To him she disclosed her momentous secret, after having obtained from him the most solemn promise never to betray her individually, since her life might be at stake with the British. He conducted her to a house near at hand, directed a female in it to give her something to eat, and he speeded for head-quarters, where he brought General Washington acquainted with what he had heard. Washington made, of course, all preparation for baffling the medi tated surprise, Lydia returned home with her flour ; sat up alone to watch the movement of the British troops ; heard their footsteps ; but when they returned, in a few days after, did not dare to ask a question, though solicitous to learn the event. The next evening, the Adjutant-General came in, and requested her to walk up to his room, as he wished to put some questions. She followed him in terror ; and when he locked the door, and begged her, with an air of mystery, to be seated, she was sure that she was either suspected or had been betrayed. He inquired earnestly whether any of her family were up the last night he and the other officer met ; she told him that they all retired at eight o'clock. He observed : " I know you were asleep, for I knocked at your chamber door three times before you heard me ; I am entirely at a loss to imagine who gave Washington information of our intended attack, unless the walls of the house could speak. When we arrived near White Marsh, we found all their cannon mounted, and the troop prepared to receive us ; and we have marched back like a parcel of fools." In contrast with these, and hundreds of similar instances of cour age and sagacity combined with ardent patriotism, the occasions upon which American women played the part of traitors are few MRS. BENEDICT ARNOLD. 35 indeed. Efforts have been made, of late years, to affix to the memory of the wife of Benedict Arnold a still blacker ignominy than that which blasted the name of the husband whom she is said to have persuaded into his treachery. In a " Life of Aaron Burr," published three or four years ago, we have a story whose truth we may well doubt, unsupported as it is by any corroborative evidence : " It fell to Burr's lot to become acquainted with the repulsive truth. He was sitting one evening with Mrs. Prevost (his future wife), when the approach of a party of horse was heard, and soon after, a lady, vailed and attired in a riding-habit, burst into the room, and hurrying toward Mrs. Prevost, was on the point of addressing her. Seeing a gentleman present, whom, in the dim light of the room, she did not recognize, she paused, and asked, in an anxious tone : " * Am I safe ? Is this gentleman a friend ?' "'Oh, yes,' was Mrs. Prevost'a reply; 'he is my most particular friend, Colonel Burr.' " ' Thank God !' exclaimed Mrs. Arnold, for she it was. ' I've been playing the hypocrite, and I'm tired of it.' " She then gave an account of the way she had deceived General Washington, Colonel Hamilton and the other American officers, who, she said, believed her innocent of treason, and had given her an escort of horse from West Point. She made no scruple of confessing the part she had borne in the negotiations with the British General, and declared it was she who had induced her husband to do what he had done. She passed the night at Paramus, taking care to act the part of the outraged and frantic woman whenever strangers were present. Colonel Burr's relations with the Shippen family, of which Mrs. Arnold was a member, had been of the most intimate character from boyhood. They had been his father's friends ; and the orphan boy had been taken from his mother's grave to their home in Phila delphia. He stood toward this fascinating, false-hearted woman almost in the light of a younger brother, and he kept her secret until she was past being harmed by the telling of it." Now Colonel Burr was not present at that interview, but was told of it, some time after, by Mrs. Prevost, then Mrs. Burr. We should hesitate before we consigned Mrs. Arnold to infamy upon such 99 36 TALES AND TRADITIONS. testimony. It is true that the authorities of Philadelphia were sus picious of her, as they compelled her, against her will, to leave the city and go to her husband. On the other side, it is said that she declared her abhorrence of her husband's crime, and her desire for a separation from him, after his treachery ; that her father and brother, influential persons in Philadelphia, begged for her not to be banished to one from whom her heart r-ecoiled, and that she promised never to write to her husband, or to receive any letters from him except such as the authorities should read, if permitted to remain with her family. Such, however, was the feeling against her, that she was compelled to leave the State. If these proceedings against her were just, swift was the punishment which overtook the traitress, for she never realized the brilliant position which she hoped to achieve by going over to the king's side, and has left only infamy as a legacy to the future. But if she were, indeed, as innocent as we have good reason for hoping was the case, it is melancholy to think of her gentle soul being crushed beneath the weight of retribution which fell upon her husband, and thus also upon her. MORGAN'S PRAYER. THERE never was a man so bold that his soul has not, at times, felt its own powerlessness, and silently appealed to the mighty God for a strength to sustain it in the hour of need. Daniel Morgan, as rough and self-reliant as he was brave, did not hesitate to confess chat more than once in the hour of approaching trial, when the weight of responsibility was more than he could bear, he threw off the burden of his cares and fears at His feet who bears the destinies of the universe. " Ah," said he, on one occasion, " people thought that Morgan was never afraid people said that * Dan Morgan never prayed.' I'll tell you what it is, Daniel Morgan, as wicked as he was, has prayed as hard and as earnestly as ever a man prayed in this world." 100 MORGAN'S PRAYER. 37 We look back now with pride to the victory of the Cowpens, which was one of Morgan's most glorious achievements. But before that battle was fought, while it was being decided upon and prepared for, one of those moments occurred to the intrepid leader, of inward dismay and trouble, which it would never do to disclose to his men, looking to him for direction and example. It is not strange that his soul was troubled. His whole command consisted of not more than six hundred men three hundred infantry under Lieutenant- Colonel Howard, two hundred Virginia riflemen, and about one hundred gallant dragoons under Colonel Washington. With this little band he was retreating, with consummate prudence, before the " haughty Tarleton," who had been sent by Cornwallis, to force him into action, with eleven hundred veteran soldiers, besides two field- pieces well served by artillerists. Tarleton had light and legion infantry, fusileers, three hundred and fifty cavalry, and a fine bat talion of the Seventy-First regiment ; he promised himself an easy victory over the American " wagoner," as well he might, with the forces at his disposal. Boldly he pursued the retreating enemy, expecting to overtake only to destroy him. But he had now to encounter a General who had braved the snows of Camden, had scaled the walls of Quebec, and had faced the legions of Burgoyne. With the greatest prudence, Morgan retreated until he reached the memorable field of Cowpens, near one of the branches of the Pacolet river. Here, in the face of superior numbers, as well as superior arms and discipline, he resolved to make a stand. He communicated his design to his inferior officers, who with ready spirit prepared the minds of their men for the combat. These, hating the British for their late oppressions, burning with the love of liberty and the desire for revenge, and placing implicit confidence in the wisdom of the General who ordered the battle, declared themselves ready for the fray. Morgan's arrangement was simple but masterly, showing a perfect knowledge of the character both of his own force and that of Tarleton. In the open wood which formed the Cowpeus, he estab lished three lines. The first consisted of the militia under Colonel Pickens, a brave officer who had been recently relieved from captivity among the English. The next line embraced all the regular infantry 101 88 TALEiS AND TRADITIONS. and the Virginia riflemen, and was commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Howard. The third was formed by "Washington's dragoons, and about fifty mounted militia armed with pistols and swords. Know- tug that the militia, though full of courage, were liable to panics, Morgan directed that the first line, if overpowered, should gradually retire and form on the right and left of the second. Thus prepared, he awaited the attack of the foe, who had come up, and was rapidly forming in the front. His face did not betray the trepidation of his heart. He knew how much depended upon the result, and when he looked upon his own small army, composed of such rude material, wretchedly equipped and but poorly disci plined, and his gaze wandered through the open forest and rested upon veteran troops with whom he was about to contend, his heart failed him. Not daring to betray his despondency to those. who looked up to him for the courage so much needed, in that solitary and friendless hour, when even the brave officers by his side could give no comfort to his mental trouble, the rough, heroic General made God his friend and adviser. In a quiet dell just back of the spot where his reserve was posted, he found a large tree which had been blown up by the roots. Hidden by the branches of this giant of the forest, he threw himself upon his knees before the Lord of battles, beseeching Him to wield the lance of delivery on the side of those who were fighting for their homes, their families and their liberties. With an impulsive force characteristic of his nature, he wrestled with his Maker, with an energy of spirit and a power of language scarcely to be expected in one so unused to the " melting mood." Rising from his knees with feelings relieved, and an oppressive weight taken from his soul, he returned to the lines, where he cheered his men in his own blunt, impulsive manner, and was replied to by shouts and huzzas which showed on their part a determination to do or die. When Tarleton found his foe drawn up in battle order, he rejoiced in the hope of a speedy victory, and though his troops were some what fatigued by a rapid march, he gave orders for a charge. Before his first line was perfectly formed, he placed himself at its head, and in person rushed to the onset. Colonel Pickens ordered his men not to fire until their adversaries were within fifty yards, and their 102 MORGAN'S PRAYER. 89 fire was delivered with great steadiness and severe effect. But so impetuous was the British charge, that the militia gave way, and attempted to form on the second line. At the head of his fusileers and legion, Tarleton pressed upon the regulars and riflemen, who, notwithstanding their stern resistance, were borne down by numbers, and forced to yield their ground. The British regarded their victory as secured, and for a moment the hearts of the republicans failed. But Morgan was everywhere, encouraging his men by his voice and presence. At this time, when their very success had caused some confusion among the fusileers, Washington, at the head of his dragoons, made a furious charge, and dashing in among them, overthrew them in a moment. His horses passed over the British infantry like a storm, and the swords of his men hewed them down with resistless fury. In this happy crisis Howard succeeded in restoring the Continentals to order, while Pickens rallied the militia, and brought them again into line. " By the wind the smoke-cloud lifted lightly drifted to the nor' ward, And displayed, in all their pride, the scarlet foe ; We beheld them, with a steady tramp and fearless moving forward. With their banners proudly waving, and their bayonets leveled low. "Morgan gave his order clearly : 'Fall back nearly to the border Of the hill, and let the enemy come nigher !' Oh, they thought we had retreated, and they charged in fierce disorder, When out rang the voice of Howard : ' To the right, about face ! fire !' " Then upon our very wheeling came the pealing of our volley, And our balls made a red pathway down the hill ; Broke the foe, and shrunk and cowered; rang again the voice of Howard : ' Give the hireling dogs the bayonet !' and we did it with a will." Struck with astonishment at finding themselves thus assaulted by men they had just regarded as defeated, the English troops wavered and broke in disorder. In vain their officers endeavored to rally them, for a renewed stand. The spirits of the patriots were roused, and pressing forward with their bayonets, they carried every thing before them. Nearly two hundred of Tarleton's horse, and among them the haughty Tarlelon himself, retreated in dismay from the field, riding over their comrades and involving them in hopeless confusion. The Americans gained the two field-pieces, and Colonel Howard, coming up with a large body of infantry, and summoning 103 40 TALES AND TRADITIONS. them to surrender, they laid down their arms on the field. The rout of the British was complete; a more signal victory our forces had never obtained. Washington and his horse followed the flying foe for several hours ; Tarleton himself narrowly escaped falling into the hands of his determined pursuer. May we not safely conjecture that after this brilliant success Morgan returned thanks to the Lord of victories as ardently as he had implored him for aid ? On another occasion, previous to this, Morgan had knelt in the snows of Canada, to beseech the blessing of God upon an undertaking as important as it was arduous. It was in 1775. Montgomery was already in Canada, where partial success had crowned his arms ; but the capture of Quebec was deemed all-important, and to insure it, Washington resolved to send a detachment across the unexplored country between the province of Maine and the St. Lawrence River. To form any idea of the difficulty of this route it must be remem bered that the whole of that region was then covered by gloomy forests, in which even the red-man could hardly find subsistence, and that in the winter season the country was bound in ice and snow. To command the expedition, Colonel Benedict Arnold was selected, and Morgan, then a Captain, eagerly sought a service so congenial to his habits and character. The whole detachment consisted of eleven hundred men, who were formed into three divisions. After ascending the Kenncbec as far as it was navigable, they were forced to take the forest roads. Morgan, at the head of his riflemen, formed the vanguard, upon whom devolved the duty of exploring the country, sounding the fords, pioneering for his companions, and seeking out spots where the bateaux might again be employed in the streams. They were then forced to pass through forests where men had never dwelt, to scale rugged hills, to contend with torrents swollen with the snow-storms of that region, to wade through marshes which threatened to ingulf them. Not only the baggage of the army, but often their boats were borne upon their shoulders at those places where the river was frozen, or where rapids and cataracts impeded their progress. The sufferings of this devoted baud can not be exaggerated. No subsist ence could be obtained from the country, and to their other trials 104 MORGAN'S PRAYER. 43 was added that of famine. They were driven to feed upon their dogs, and even upon the leather of their shoes, before they reached the first settlement of Canadians, and astonished them by their account of their achievements. The spirit which endured such trials was the best surety of their success. But reinforcements had been received in Quebec. The garrison was prepared, and Arnold, after making some demonstra tions, retired to Point au Tremble, twenty miles distant, to await the coining of Montgomery. When the two forces were joined, they were yet inadequate to the attack of the strongest fortress in America ; but the hero who now commanded the Americans could not endure the thought of retreat. On the last day of the year 1775, in the midst of a furious snow storm, the memorable attack was made. On this occasion it was, as Morgan confessed afterward, that he was "afraid" but fear, to his nature, was not a passion which weakened him, but which urged him on. It was not for himself, personally, that he was afraid ; no, he dreaded the effect of a defeat upon his country ; he could not see, without shrinking, his brave friends and comrades rushing upon what seemed like death in the land of the enemy. In his own words we have his thoughts : " The night we stormed Quebec, while I was waiting with my men, in the cold, driving storm, for the word to advance, I felt unhappy ; I looked up at the frowning battlements above me, and then around upon my armful of men, and felt that the enterprise was more than perilous ; I felt that nothing short of a miracle could pre vent our being destroyed in a contest where we fought at such an immense disadvantage. With such feelings I stepped aside, and kneeling down in the snow, alongside an old gun, with the storm beating into my face, I poured out my soul in an humble petition to God, beseeching him to be my shield and protection in the coming struggle for nothing but an Almighty arm could save us and I really and sincerely feel that I owed my safety to the interposition of Providence, and I thought so at the time." In the attack which followed, and which was unsuccessful, Mor gan did all that a brave man could do. He scaled the walls of the fortress, and sprung down alone amid the surprised garrison, though 107 44 TALES AND TRADITIONS. speedily followed by numbers of his men. The enemy, appalled by such heroism, fell back to the second barrier, and here, had he been properly supported, Morgan might have been again successful ; but the men had rendered their guns useless; the riflemen who hud followed him were unsupported ; to face a double row of bayonets and climb a wall was beyond the power of the most desperately brave. After an obstinate resistance Morgan and his corps were forced to surrender. So much did Morgan's bravery impress the English, that, when a prisoner in their hands, he was offered the rank of Colonel in the English service, and many persuasive reasons were given why he should accept it. It need not be said that he rejected the temptation with scorn. General Daniel Morgan was born of Welch parentage, in New Jersey, in the year 1736. Like so many of our most illustrious heroes, he was a " self-made man." His family, which belonged to the " middle class," had an interest in some Virginia lands, to attend to which he visited that colony when about seventeen years old. Glowing with health, and full of that love of adventure which always characterized him, he determined to remain in Virginia, and begin the business of life for himself. He had money enough for the pur chase of a wagon and pair of horses. With these he entered upon the employment which gave him the name of the "wagoner" long after he had risen to military fame. He remained near Winchester for about two years. When General Braddock's army commenced its march against Fort Duquesne it was accompanied by several corps of provincial troops. Morgan, the " ruling passion" thus early displaying itself, joined one of these corps. He drove his own team in the baggage-train. On the way occurred one of those instances, too frequent in military experience, where the power of an officer is used with meanness and tyrannj' against the soldier in his power. The ruggedness of the way causing much trouble with the train, and Morgan's team becoming impeded, along with many others, a British Officer approached him, and, with much impatience demanded why he did not move along. He replied that he would move as soon as he was able. The officer, yielding to his irritable temper, with unmerited harshness declared that if he did not move along he would 108 MORGAN'S PRAYER. 45 run him through with his sword. The high spirit of the wagoner- hoy could not brook this insult ; he gave a fierce reply, when the officer at once made a pass at him with his weapon. Morgan held in his hand a heavy wagon-whip ; parrying the stroke with the quickness of thought, he closed with his superior; the sword was broken in the struggle ; then, using his whip with the skill which long practice had given him, he inflicted upon the Englishman a severe castigation. Such a breach of military law of course was not to be forgiven. Morgan was tried by a court-martial, which sentenced him to receive five hundred lashes. The sentence was carried into effect. The young victim bore this horrible punishment with mute heroism, silently fainting from torture and exhaustion, while fifty lashes were yet in reserve, which were of necessity remitted. Three days afterward, tire officer who had been the occa sion of this barbarity became convinced of his injustice, and, seeking Morgan in the camp hospital, implored his forgiveness. Through this miserable occurrence, the brave young volunteer was disabled from duty, and escaped the danger and disgrace of Braddock's defeat. Not long after his return from this unhappy campaign, he was appointed an ensign in the colonial service. His merit had become apparent to the Government of the colony ; already he had won the friendship of Washington, which afterward availed him on many trying occasions. His known courage and activity caused him to be employed in the most dangerous services. On one occasion, accom panied by two soldiers, he was carrying dispatches to one of the frontiers of Virginia, infested by cunning and ferocious savages. While in cautious progress through the forest, unaware that any eye was upon them, or any stealthy step tracking them fatally and silently, suddenly the discharge of rifles was heard ; his two com panions fell dead by his side. Morgan himself received the only severe wound he ever had during his military career ; a rifle ball entered the back of his neck, and, shattering his jaw, passed out through his left cheek. Though he believed himself mortally wounded, his presence of mind did not fail. Leaning forward on his saddle, he grasped the mane of his horse, and pressing the spurs into his sides, darted forward at full speed toward the fort, A single 109 46 TALES AND TRADITIONS. Indian followed, him, eager for his scalp. Morgan, in after years, oflen spoke of the appearance of this savage, who ran with his month open, and his tomahawk raised to strike the fatal blow. Finding his pursuit in vain, the Indian finally threw the tomahawk with all his force, hoping it would hit the soldier; but it fell short; the horse, with his bleeding rider, gained the fort. Morgan was per fectly insensible when taken from the animal ; but proper treatment, and the vigor of his constitution, restored him to health in six months. From this time until the commencement of the Revolutionary War, he remained in Frederick, employed in his old business as a wagoner. At this time, he was wild and reckless, proud of his immense strength, inclining to rough society, fond of the most rollicking pastimes, and even, it is said, frequenting the gaming table. His nature was of that active and superabundant kind, that he could not live without excitement ; that which in times of idle ness became a fault, or almost a crime, leading him into wild excesses, was the same energy which, as soon as there was a noble object for its exercise, sprung to the labor of defending liberty. It is said that pugilistic encounters were his daily pastime such from the fact that he was usually the victor. Few men of his time encountered him without signal defeat. But though Morgan was generally successful, we have an account of a reverse which he experienced, too salutary in the lesson it inculcated to be lost. General Carson, of Frederick county, Virginia, where the affair took place, tells the anecdote as one entirely authentic : " Passing along a road with his wagon, Morgan met a gentleman of refined manners and appearance, who, as he approached the wagoner, had his hat struck off by a bough overhead. This stopped him for a moment, and Morgan, thinking that the stranger felt undue pride in sustaining the character of a gentleman, determined to humble him. Alighting from his horse which he rode, teamster- fashion, instead of driving he addressed the traveler: " ' Well, sir, if you want a fight, I'm ready for you !' " The stranger, in amazement, assured him that he wanted no fight, and had made no signals to such a purpose. But Morgan was not to be thus repulsed, and urged a contest upon him, until the stranger, 110 MORGAN'S PRAYER. 47 becoming enraged, in short terms accepted the challenge. The battle commenced. In brief space the well-dressed man planted such a series of rapid and scientific blows upon Morgan's front, that he knocked him down, and inflicted upon him a severe chastisement. Morgan never forgot this reverse ; he found that he was not the only man in the world that ' might did not make right.' He often spoke of it afterward as having had a happy effect upon his character." In after years, he gained more dignity of character, these youthful ebullitions merging into deeds of valor of which his country is proud. Immediately upon the breaking out of the Revolutionary War, he stood ready' to aid his country. Congress appointed him a Captain of provincials, and so great was his reputation, that, in a short time after his call for recruits, ninety-six riflemen were enrolled in his company. This was the nucleus of that celebrated rifle corps which rendered so much brilliant service during the war. It was composed of men who had been trained in the forest, and who had each been accustomed to the use of his own rifle with wonderful skill. They were hardy in body and dauntless in heart. From this time on, his career was one of glory, although the hardships which he suffered finally undermined his splendid health, and forced him to retire, with the rank of Major-General, to his estate near Winchester, called " Saratoga," after one of the places where he had distinguished himself. It was here that he died in 1802, in the 67th year of his age. A passer-by would hardly notice the humble slab, of little pretension, which marks his grave in the Presbyterian church-yard, at Win chester ; yet on it is inscribed a name which Americans will ever delight to honor : " The hero of Quebec, of Saratoga, and the Cow- pens : the bravest among the brave, and the Ney of the West." In Irving's Life of Washington we have read an amusing account of an impromptu fray, one party to which was a corps of Virginia riflemen, very likely to be those commanded by Morgan, in which it would appear as if the early habits of their leader had infected his men, and in which the immortal Washington himself appears in a new and picturesque attitude. " A large party of Virginia riflemen," says the author, " who had recently arrived in camp, were strolling about Cambridge, and viewing the collegiate buildings, now turned 111 48 TALES AND TRADITIONS. into barracks. Their half-Indian equipments, and fringed and ruffled hunting-garbs, provoked the merriment of some troops from Marble- head, chiefly fishermen, and sailors, who thought nothing equal to the round-jacket and trowsers. A bantering ensued between them. There was snow upon the ground, and snow-balls began to fly when jokes were wanting. The parties waxed warm with the contest. They closed and came to blows ; both sides were reinforced, and in a little while at least a thousand were at fisticuffs, and there was a tumult in the camp worthy of the days of Homer. * At this juncture,' writes our informant, ' Washington made his appearance, whether by accident or design, I never knew. I saw none of his aids with him ; his black servant just behind him, mounted. He threw the bridle of his own horse into his servant's hands, sprung from his saddle, rushed into the thickest of the melee, seized two tall, brawny riflemen by the throat, keeping them at arm's length, talking to and shaking them.' As they were from his own province, he may have felt peculiarly responsible for their good conduct ; they were engaged, too, in one of those sectional brawls which were his especial abhor rence; his reprimand must, therefore, have been a vehement one. He was commanding in his serenest moments, but irresistible in his bursts of indignation. On the present occasion, we are told, his appearance and rebuke put an instant end to the tumult. The veteran who records this exercise of military authority, seems at a loss which most to admire, the simplicity of the process, or the vigor with which it was administered. ' Here,' writes he, ' bloodshed, imprisonments, trials by court-martial, revengeful feelings between the different corps of the army, were happily prevented by the physical and mental energies of a single person, and the only damaging result from the fierce encounter was a few torn hunting- frocks and round-jackets.' " We may well believe that what was done by Washington was well done, even to the stilling of this Homeric tumult. Occasions of great danger and trial were so frequent that the leaders of the Revolution had recourse to prayer more frequently, we are led to believe, than history mentions One anecdote is told of Washington's having been overheard supplicating at the throne of grace, but how can we conceive the Father of his Country as other 112 WASHINGTON AT PRAYER. 49 than the devout leader who at all times felt and "acknowledged the hand of Providence over him ? The anecdote specially referred to was related by Potts, the Quaker. During the winter of 1777, the Continental army was encamped at Valley Forge a suffering, dis pirited, yet still patriotic little host. Clothing was scant, food was scarce, numbers were too few for opposing the triumphant foe, and all things seemed to betoken a most inauspicious future for the patriot cause. Washington, outwardly firm, resolved, and apparently not dissatisfied, was, as his correspondence shows, deeply concerned for the result of the early spring campaign ; and that, in his hour of trial, he prayed for aid from on high we can well believe. One day, Potts had occasion to go to a certain place, which led him through a large grove, at no great distance from head-quarters. As he was proceeding along, he thought he heard a noise. He stopped and listened. He did hear the sound of a human voice al some distance, but quite indistinctly. As it was in the direct course he was pursuing, he went on, but with some caution. Occasionally he paused and listened, and with increasing conviction that he heard some one. At length he came within sight of a man, whose back was turned toward him, on his knees, in the attitude of prayer. It was a secluded spot a kind of natural bower ; but it was the house of prayer. Potts now stopped, partly leaned forward, and watched till whoever it might be was through his devotions. This was not long. And whom should he now see but Washington himself, the commander of the American armies, returning from bending pros trate before the God of armies above. Potts himself was a pious man. He knew the power of prayer ; and no sooner had he reached home, than in the fullness of his faith he broke forth to his wife Sarah, in the language o." a watchman : " Wife Sarah, my dear, all's well all's well I Yes, George Washington is sure to beat the British sure /" " What what's the matter with thee, Isaac ?" replied the startled Sarah. " Thee seems to be much moved about something." " Well, and what if I am moved ? Who would not be moved at such a sight as I have seen to-day ?" " And what has thee seen, Isaac ?" 14 Seen ! I've seen a man at prayer, in the woods George 2 4 11,3 50 TALES AND TRADITIONS. Washington himself! And now I say just what I have said' All's well ; George Washington is sure to beat the British sure !' " Whether Sarah's faith was as strong as Isaac's, we can not say ; but Potts' logic was sound that in a good cause, a man of prayer is sure to succeed SURE ! That Washington was a constant attendant upon divine worship, and a man of prayer, admits of no doubt. This was highly to his credit ; for it too often happens that men in important stations think that their pressure of business will justly excuse them for neglecting all religious duties. It is related of Washington, that in the French and Indian war, when he was a Colonel, he used himself, in the absence of the chap lain, on the Sabbath, to read the Scriptures to the soldiers of his regiment, and to pray with them ; and that more than once he was found on his knees in his marquee at secret prayer. While at home at Mount Vernon, he was always punctual to go to church. Sometimes he had distinguished men to visit him, and who he knew had no great regard for religion. This made no dif ference with his conduct. On such occasions he regularly attended church, and invited them to accompany him. During his residence in Philadelphia, as President of the United States, he was a constant attendant at the house of God, on the Sabbath ; thus setting a becoming example to others in authority. And it has often been remarked, that in all his public messages to Congress, he was particular to allude in some appropriate manner to God's overruling providence, and his sense of his own and the nation's dependence upon divine favor, for individual and national prosperity. The greatness of Washington was conceded even more fully by the great than by the "common herd" of mankind. Bonaparte paid a tribute to the American's fame scarcely to be exceeded for its terms of admiration. " Ah, gentlemen," the French General exclaimed to some young Americans happening at Toulon, and anxious to see the mighty Corsican, had obtained the honor of an introduction to him, " how fares your countryman, the great Washington?" " He was very .well," replied the youths, brightening at the thought 114 ANECDOTES OF WASHINGTON. 51 that they were the countrymen of "Washington, "he was very well, General, when we left America." "Ah, gentlemen," rejoined he, "Washington can never be other wise than well. The measure of Jiis fame is full. Posterity will talk of him with reverence as the founder of a great empire, when my name shall be lost in the vortex of revolutions." This recalls the celebrated "toast scene" wherein Dr. Franklin "paid his respects" to the English and French. It is thus recited: Long after Washington's victories over the French and English had made his name familiar to all Europe, Dr. Franklin chanced to dine with the English and French embassadors, when the following toasts were drunk. By the British embassador : " England the sun, whose bright beams enlighten and fructify the remotest corners of the earth." The French embassador, glowing with national pride, but too polite to dispute the previous toast, drank : " France the moon, whose mild, steady and cheering rays are the delight of all nations, consoling them in darkness, and making their dreariness beautiful." Dr. Franklin then rose, and with his usual dignified simplicity, said: "George Washington the Joshua, who commanded the sun and moon to stand still, and they obeyed him." We could fill many pages with anecdotes of Washington, illustra tive of his goodness, his real, heart piety, his reliance on an over ruling Providence ; but will not, at this time, devote more space to the theme, promising ourselves the pleasures of again recurring to the truly august subject. 115 52 TALKS AND TRADITIONS. THE JOMSOI BOYS KILLING THEIR CAPTORS. THE father of the little heroes whose daring exploit is here illustrated, removed from Pennsylvania in 1786, or thereabouts, and settled on what was called Beech-bottom Flats, in the State of Ohio, some two miles from the Ohio River, and three or four miles above '.he mouth of Short Creek. In common with all the early settlers of that State, Johnson was subject to the depredations of the Indians, who felt that the white men were encroaching upon their hunting-grounds, and did not hesitate to inflict upon them the fullest measure of ven geance. Protected by the station, or fort, near which thoy resided, the family enjoyed, however, a tolerable share of security. One Sunday morning, in the fall of 1793, two of his sons John, aged thirteen, and Henry, eleven started for the woods to look for a hat which the younger had lost the previous evening, while out after the cows. Having found the hat, they started for home, but coming to the foot of a hickory tree, whose tempting fruit lay in bounteous profusion on the ground before them, they, boylike, and dreaming neither of Indians nor of any other danger, sat clown on a fallen log and amused themselves cracking and eating nuts. While thus engaged, they observed two men approaching from the direction of the station, who, from their dress and appearance, they took to be ^neighbors, seeking for strayed horses, one of them having a bridle in his hand. Satisfied of this fact, they continued their employment, until the men had approached qnite near to them, when, upon look ing up, they discovered, to their horror, that they were Indians, dressed in the garb of white men. Their first impulse was to fly ; but upon rising to their feet, one of the intruders presented his rifle, and told them to stop or he would shoot. Coming up to them, the other presented his hand, and said: "How do, brodder?" The oldest boy, John, immediately instinctively, as it were called into requisition a tact perfectly astonishing in such a child. Accepting the savage's hand, he shook it with a smile, asking with apparently 116 THE JOHNSON BOYS KILLING THEIR CAPTORS. 53 pleased curiosity if they were Indians. Their captors replied that they were, telling the boys that they must go with them. Conceal ing their feelings of fear and distress, the little fellows submitted, and took up their line of march for the wilderness, not without the most poignant emotions at thus being rudely torn from their home and parents. They had heard enough, young as. they were, of Indian captivity, to guess what was in store for them that, even at the very best, there would be years of wild, uncivilized life before them, should they be spared to live at all. But hiding the sinking of his heart, the oldest took the small buckskin bag which was given, him to carry, with outward cheerfulness, and entered with spirit into the search of the Indians after the horses of the white men. The bag, from its weight, he supposed to contain money, the product of their depredations upon the white community. The Indians and their captives spent the afternoon in pursuit of horses, taking a circuitous route through the bottom and over the Short Creek hill ; but evening approaching without their meeting with success, they drew off some distance into the woods, in search of some place to camp. Coming to a spring in a hollow, which answered their purpose, they halted ; and while one of them scouted around the camp, the other proceeded to build a fire, by flashing his gun into some dry "tinder" wood. While the latter was gone to procure the wood from a decayed stump, John took up the gun he had left behind, and cocked it, with the intention of shooting him as he came back; but Henry stopped him, for fear the other might be near, and able to overpower them, at the same time promising to aid his brother if lie would wait until the Indians were asleep. After they had cooked their supper, and eaten it by the fire, the savages began to converse apart in their own tongue. The result of their council soon became painfully apparent to the boys. Draw ing their knives, they began to whet them, at the same time con tinuing their discussion, with occasional sidelong glances at the boys. Seeing this, with that remarkable discretion which had hitherto marked his conduct, John entered into conversation with them, in. the course of which he remarked that he led a hard life with his parents, who were cross to him, and made him work hard, giving 117 54 TALES AND TRADITIONS. him no chance for play. For his part, he liked to hunt and fish, and when he got to their towns, he meant to be a warrior and live with them. This pleased the Indians, and led to farther converse, during which one of them asked the boys which way home was. John, who assumed to be spokesman, answered, always pointing the wrong way, which led them to believe that their captives had lost their reckoning. The business of sharpening the knives was sus pended, and John's bright eyes, smiling but anxious, were not sorry to see them restored to the belts of the wearers. The Indians, although pleased and conciliated, were careful not to trust their little prisoners too far, but pinioned their arms, and when they laid down to sleep for the night, placed the boys between them, secured by a large strap, which passed under their own bodies. Late in the night, one of the savages, becoming cold, stirred in his sleep, caught hold of John in his arms, and turned him over to the outside, soon relapsing into sound slumber with the renewed warmth thus obtained. In this situation the boy, awake and alert, found means to get his hands loose; he then nudged his brother, made him get up, and untied his arms. This done, Henry thought of nothing but of running off as fast as possible; but when about to start, his brother caught hold of him, whispering : " We must kill these Indians before we go." After some hesitation, Henry agreed to make the attempt. John took one of the rifles of their captors, and placed it on a log with the muzzle close to the head of one of them. He then cocked the gun, and placed his little brother at the breech with his finger on the trigger, with instructions to pull it as soon as he should strike the other Indian. He then took one of the tomahawks, and placed himself astride the second foe. All this time the savages slumbered on in their fancied security. That moment he gave the word to fire, while he brought the tomahawk down with all the force of his young arm upon his sleeping enemy. The blow, how ever, fell upon the back of the neck and to one side, so as not to be fatal; the wounded savage attempted to spring up, but tie little fellow, urged to desperation, plied his blows with such force and rapidity upon the Indian's skull, that, to use his own words in. describing it, " the Indian laid still and began to quiver." At the moment of the first stroke given by the elder brother, the 118 THE JOHNSON BOYS KILLING TIIEIll CAPTORS. 55 younger one pulled the trigger, as directed ; but bis skot was not more fatal tban the other's blow, for he only succeeded in blowing off a large part of his antagonist's lower jaw. This Indian, an instant after receiving the wound, began to flounce about and yell in the most frightful manner. The boys were glad to abandon him to his fate. They made the best of their way to the fort, reaching it a little before day-break. On getting near the station, they found the people all up, and a great anxiety on their account. On hearing u woman exclaim : " Poor little fellows, they are killed or taken prisoners !" the eldest one answered : " No, mother, we are here yet I" Having brought away nothing from the Indian camp, their relation was not credited, and a party was made up to go in search of its truth. On arriving at the camp, they found the Indian whom John had tomahawked, dead ; the other had crawled away, leaving a heavy, bloody trail, by which he was traced to the top of a fallen tree, where he had ensconced himself, determined to sell his life clearly. At the approach of the party he attempted to fire upon them ; but his gun flashed in the pan ; and one *>f the men remark ing that he "didn't care about being killed by a dead Injin," they left him to die of his wounds. His skeleton and gun were found, some time afterward, near the spot. It was conjectured that the bag of specie which the Indians had, was appropriated by one of the settlers, who had slipped off in advance upon hearing the story of the boys. For some time after this person seemed better supplied with money than he had ever been before. The story of the heroism of the little warriors got abroad, and even the Indians themselves gave them credit for it. After the treaty with General Wayne, an old Indian, who was a friend of the two who were killed (and who, it seems, had been distinguished warriors), inquired of a man from Short Creek what they had done with the two young braves who had killed the Indians. Being answered that they lived at the same place with their parents, he replied : " Then you have not done right ; you should have made kings of those boys." There are a good many stories told of those early days, far pleas- anter for the boys of this generation to read in safety, by the 119 50 TALES AND TKADITIONS. comfortable winter fire, than it was for the hardy and sagacious little heroes to enact them. In August, 1786, a lad by the name of Downing, who lived at a fort near Slate Creek, in what is now Bath county, was requested by an older companion to assist him in hunting for a horse which had strayed away the preceding evening. Downing readily complied, and the two friends searched in every direction, until at length they found themselves in a wild valley, some six or seven miles from the fort. Here Downing became alarmed, and repeatedly told his com panion, Yates, that he heard sticks cracking behind them, and was certain that Indians were dogging them. Yates, an old backwoods man, laughed at the fears of the boy, and contemptuously asked him at what price he rated his scalp, offering to insure it for sixpence. Downing, however, was not so easily satisfied. He observed that in whatever direction they turned, the same ominous sounds continued to haunt them, and as Yates continued to treat the matter recklessly, he resolved to take measures for his own safety. Gradually slack ening his pace, he permitted Yates to advance twenty or thirty steps ahead, and immediately afterward, as they descended the slope of a gentle hill, Downing slipped aside and hid himself in a thick cluster of whortleberry bushes. Yates proceeded on, singing carelessly some rude song, and was soon out of sight. Scarcely had he disappeared, when Downing beheld two savages put aside the stalks of a cane- brake, and cautiously look out in the direction Yates had taken. Fearful that they had seen him step aside, he determined to lire upon them, and trust to his heels for safety ; but so unsteady was his hand, that in raising his gun to his shoulder, it went off before he had taken aim. He immediately ran, and after proceeding about fifty yards, met Yates, who had hastily retraced his steps. The enemy were then in full view, and the woodsman, who might have outstripped the lad, graduated his steps to those of his companion. The Indians, by taking a shorter path, gained rapidly upon the fugi tives, across whose way lay a deep gully. Yates easily cleared it, but Downing dropped short, and fell at full length upon the bottom. The savages, eager to capture Yates, continued the pursuit, without appearing to notice Downing, who, quickly recovering his strength, began to walk slowly up the ditch, fe&ring to leave it, lest the 120 THE ATTACK ON CAPTAIN HUBBELL'S FLAT-BOAT. 59 enemy should see him. He had scarcely emerged into the open ground before he saw one of the Indians returning, apparently in quest of him. His gun being unloaded, Downing threw it away, and again took to flight ; but his pursuer gained on him so rapidly, that he lost all hope of escape. Coming at length to a large poplar, which had been blown up by the roots, he ran along the body of the tree on one side, while the Indian ran along the other, expecting to intercept his game at the root. But here fortune favored the latter in the most singular manner. A she-bear which was suckling her cubs in a bed at the root of the tree, suddenly sprung upon the Indian, and while the latter was yelling and stabbing his hirsute antagonist with his knife, Downing succeeded in reaching the fort, where he found Yates reposing after a hot chase, in which he, also, had distanced his pursuers. Whether the bear or the Indian came off victor in the im promptu engagement so suddenly entered into, the historian sayeth not. In the following narrative, the incidents of which are included in the History of the State of Kentucky, will be noticed the fortitude of another lif.tle hero, who, in the midst of appalling circumstances, received two severe wounds, one of which must have been extremely painful, yet who made no sign would not even allow it to be known that he was injured, until the conflict was over. In March, 1788, Captain William Hubbell, floating down the Ohio River in his flat-boat, on his return from the east, after leaving Pitts- burg, saw traces of Indians along the banks of the stream, which excited his suspicions and increased his watchfulness. On the bpat, besides Captain Hubbell, were 'Daniel Light, and William Plascut and his family. Before reaching the mouth of the Great Kanawha, their number was increased to twenty, among whom were Ray, Tucker and Kilpatrick, also two daughters of the latter, a man by the name of Stoner, an Irishman, and a German. Information at Galli- polis confirmed their previous expectation of a conflict with a large body of Indians ; Captain Hubbell therefore made every preparation to resist the anticipated attack. The men, divided into three watches for the night, were alternately on the look-out for two hours at a time. The arms on board unfortunately consisted mainly of old 123 60 TALES AND TRADITIONS. muskets much out <6f order. These were put in the best possible condition for service. On the 23d, Hubbell's party overtook a fleet of six boats descend ing the river in company, and, for mutual protection, at first con cluded to join them. Finding them, however, a careless, noisy set of people, more intent on dancing than watching for Indians, Hub- bell determined to push forward alone. One of the six boats, desirous of keeping up with Hubbell, pushed forward for a short time ; but its crew at length dropped asleep, and it was soon left in the rear. Early in the night, a canoe was seen flying down the river, in which probably were Indians on the watch. Fires and other signs also were observed, which indicated the presence of a formidable body of the savages. At daybreak, before the men were at their posts, a voice some distance below repeatedly solicited them, in a plaintive tone, to come on shore, representing that some white persons wished to take a passage in their boat. This the Captain naturally concluded to be an Indian artifice. He accordingly placed every man upon his guard. The voice of entreaty soon was changed into insult, and the sound of distant paddles announced the approach of the savage foe. Three Indian canoes were seen through the mist rapidly advancing. With the utmost coolness, the Captain and his conifvinions prepared to receive them. Every man was ordered not to fire until the savages came nearly up to the boat; the men, also, were directed to fire in succession, that there might be no intervals. The canoes were found to contain from twenty-five to thirty Indians each. When within musket-shot, they poured in a general fire from one of the canoes, by which Tucker and Light were wounded. The three canoes now placed themselves on the bow, stern and side of the boat, opening a raking fire upon the whites ; but the steady firing from the boat had a powerful effect in checking the confidence and the fury of the savages. Hubbell, after firing his own gun, took up that of one of the wounded men, and was in the act of discharging it when a ball tore away the lock. He deliberately seized a brand of fire, and, applying it to the pan, discharged it with effect. When in the act of raising his gun a third time, a ball passed through his right arm, which for a moment tlis;tbiod him. Seeing 124 THE ATTACK ON CAPTAIN HUBBELL's FLAT BOAT. til this, the savages rushed for the boat, to board it. Severely wounded as he was, Hubbell rushed to the bow, arid assisted in forcing the enemy off, by the discharge of a pair of horse pistols, and by billets of wood. Meeting with so desperate a resistance, the Indians at length discontinued the contest, for the moment. The boat which Hubbell had recently left behind now appearing in sight, the canoes rushed toward it. They boarded it without opposition, killed Captain Greathouse and a lad, placed the women in the center of their canoes, and then manning them with a fresh reinforcement from the shore, again pursued Hubbell and his party. The melancholy alternative now presented itself to these brave but desponding men, either of falling a prey to the savages, or to run the risk of shooting the white women in the canoes, purposely placed there by the Indians, in the hope of obtaining protection by their presence. Hubbell, well knowing how little mercy was to be expected if the savages were victorious, did not hesitate. He resolved to war to the last. There were now but four men left on board of the boat capable of defending it. The Captain himself was severely wounded in two places. Yet. the second attack was resisted with incredible firmness. Whenever the Indians would rise to fire, the whites would, com monly, give them the first shot, which in almost every instance would prove fatal. Notwithstanding the disparity of numbers and the exhausted condition of Hubbell's party, the Indians, despairing of success, retired to the shore. Just as the last canoe was depart ing, Hubbell called to the Indian chief in the stern, and on his turn ing round, discharged his piece at him. When the smoke was dissipated, the savage was seen lying on his back, severely, perhaps mortally, wounded. Unfortunately, the boat had drifted near to shore, where the Indians were collected, and a large concourse, probably between four and five hundred, were seen rushing down on the bank. Ray and Plascut, the only men remaining unhurt, took to the oars. As the boat was not more than twenty yards from shore, it was deemed prudent for them to lie down, and attempt to paddle out into the river with the utmost practicable rapidity. While thus covered, nine balls were shot into one oar, and ten into the other, without 125 2 TALES AND TRADITIONS. wounding the rowers, who were protected by the side of the boat and the blankets in its stern. During this exposure to the fire, which continued about twenty minutes, Kilpatrick observed a par ticular Indian, whom he thought a favorable mark for his rifle, and, despite the solemn warning of Captain Hubbell, rose to shoot the savage. He immediately received a ball in his mouth, which passed out at the back part of his head, and was, almost at the same moment, shot through the heart. He fell among the horses that about the same time were killed, presenting to his afflicted daughters and fellow travelers, who were witnesses of the awful occurrence, a spectacle of horror which it were impossible to describe. The boat, providentially, was then suddenly carried out into the stream, beyond reach of the enemy's balls. The little band, reduced in numbers, wounded, afflicted, and almost exhausted by fatigue, still were unsubdued in spirit, and being assembled in all their strength, men, women and children, with an appearance of triumph gave three hearty cheers, calling to the Indians to come on again if they were fond of the sport. Thus ended this stubborn conflict, in which only two out of nine men. escaped unhurt. Tucker and Kilpatrick were killed on the spot, Stoner was mortally wounded, and died on his arrival at Lime stone, and all the rest, excepting Ray and Plascut, were severely wounded. The women and children all were uninjured, excepting a little son of Mr. Plascut, who, after the battle was over, came to the Captain, and with great coolness requested him to take a ball out of his head. On examination, it appeared that a bullet, which had passed through the side of the boat, had penetrated the forehead of this little hero, and still remained under the skin. The Captain took it out, when the youth, observing, " That is not all," raised his arm, and exhibited a piece of bone at the point of his elbow, which had been, shot off, and hung only by the skin. His mother exclaimed : " Why did you not tell me of this ?" " Because," he coolly replied, " the Captain directed us to be silent during the action, and I thought you would be likely to make a noise if I told you." Here was true pluck. 126 THE ATTACK ON CAPTAIN HUBBELL'S FLAT-BOAT. 68 The boat made its way down the river as rapidly as possible, the object being to reach Limestone that night. The Captain, tormented by excruciating pain, and faint through loss of blood, was under the necessity of steering the boat with his left arm, till about ten o'clock that night, when he was relieved by William Brooks, who resided on the bank of the river, and who was induced by the calls of the suffering party to come out to their assistance. By his aid, and that of some other persons, who were in the same manner brought to their relief, the party was enabled to reach Limestone about twelve o'clock that night. On the arrival of Brooks, Captain Hubbell, relieved from labor and responsibility, sunk under the weight of pain and fatigue, and became for a while totally insensible. When the boat reached Limestone, he found himself unable to walk, and was carried up to the tavern. Here he continued several days, until he acquired sufficient strength to proceed he me ward. On the arrival of Hubbell's party at Limestone, they found a con siderable force of armed men ready to march against the Indians. They now learned that, on the Sunday preceding, these very same savages had cut off a detachment of men ascending the Ohio from Fort Washington, at the mouth of Licking River, and had killed with their tomahawks, without firing a gun, twenty-one out of twenty-two men, of which the detachment consisted ! Crowds of people, as might be expected, came to examine the boat which had been the scene of so much heroism and such horrid carnage, and to visit the resolute little band by whom it had been so gallantly defended. On examination, it was found that the sides of the boat were literally filled with bullets and bullet-holes. There was scarcely a space of two feet square in the part above water, which had not either a ball remaining in it, or a hole through which a ball had passed. Some persons who had the curiosity to count the number of holes in the blankets which were hung up as curtains in the stern of the boat, affirmed that in the space of five feet square there were one hundred and twenty-two. Four horses out of five were killed. The escape of the fifth, amidst such a shower of balls, appears almost miraculous. The day after the arrival of Captain Hubbell and his companions, the five boats passed on the night preceding the battle reached 127 64 TALES AND TRADITIONS. Limestone. The Indians, it would appear, had met with too formid able a resistance from a single boat to attack a fleet, and suffered them to pass unmolested. From that time, it is believed that no boat was assailed by Indians on the Ohio. The force which marched out from Limestone to disperse this formidable body of savages discovered several Indians dead on the shore, near the scene of action. They also found the bodies of Captain Greathouse and several others men, women and childrcn-- who had been on board of his boat. Most of them appeared to have been whipped to death, as they were found stripped, tied to trees, and marked with the appearance of lashes; and large rods, which seemed to have been worn with use, were observed lying near them. It is wonderful, when we consider the perils whicli beset the early settlers, that Ohio, Kentucky and Indiana did not remain untenanted by white men. We can not open the history of the years, from 1787 to 1814, that we do not find, upon almost every page, a story of suffering, of miraculous escape, or of appalling death which every where seemed to be in store for the daring pioneer. In the course of this series of tales we shall have occasion to repeat many of those stirring episodes, which will be perused with commingled feelings of pain and admiration. Every youth, and particularly every one dwelling west of the Alleghanies, should study these episodes, and learn from them through what trials came their blessings. 128 T ^ L E S, TRADITIONS AND ROMANCE OF . *. BORDER AND REVOLUTIONARY TIMES. A QREAT HUNTINGS ADVENTURE. COLONEL HORRY'S EXPLOITS. ELERSON'S EAMOUS RACE. MOLLY PITCHER AT MONMOUTH. 3STJEW YORK BEADLE AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS, 118 WILLIAM STEEET. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by BEADLE AND COMPANY, lu the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. A KEMARKABLE HUNTING EXCURSION. ON a September morning of the year 1817, Solomon Sweatland, of Conneaut, on the Ohio shore of Lake Erie, had risen at earliest dawn to enjoy his favorite amusement of hunting deer. Royal game was this, and hunted in royal parks, which the dukes and princes of haughty old England might envy, and, best of all, they were not barred from the poorest settler. There was no punishment for "poaching" on the magnificent prairies, and in the glorious forests of the West. The men who there slung their rifles over their shoulders, and set out, careless whether they met a fawn or a panther, would have sneered at an English hunting-ground as a bit of a hand kerchief which one of their favorite "per-raries" could tuck away in her pocket and never feel it. Men who can " drive the nail" and " snuff a candle," three shots out of six, and who kill such dainty game as squirrels by blowing the breath out of them with the wind of their bullets instead of lacerating their little bodies with the ball ; who have hand-to-hand, or hand-to-paw, tussles with ferocious grizzlies, and make nothing of two or three deer before breakfast, may afford to smile at their fox-hunting, partridge-shooting English cousins. Such were the men who first settled our now populous Western States; and we may well believe that the healthy and thrilling excitement of pursuits like these compensated for the want of many luxuries, and that they became so attached to their free and venturesome modes of life, as to feel stifled at the idea of the con straints of society. " Their gaunt hounds yelled, their rifles flashed The grim bear hushed his savage growl; 133 ft TALES AND TRADITIONS. In blood and foam the panther gnashed His fangs, with dying howl ; The fleet deer ceased its flying bound, Its snarling wolf-foe bit the ground, And, with a moaning cry, The beaver sunk beneath the wound, Its pond-built Venice by." Fascinating, even in contemplation, is a life like this. It makes the blood tingle in the veins, the sinews stretch, and the lungs expand, to read of the scenes which cluster around it, and to breathe, in fancy, the pure air, and sweep, with our vision, the wide horizon. But we must go back to our hunter, who stood, in the gray light, of dawn, without coat or waistcoat, outside his cabin, listening to the baying of the dogs, as they drove the deer. In this part of the country, lying along the lake, it was the custom for one party, aided by dogs, to drive the deer into the water, when another would pur sue them in boats, and when the game was a little tired, shoot it without difficulty. Sweatland had a neighbor who hunted with him in this manner, and he it was who had already started a noble buck, which dashed into the lake, while Sweatland stood listening for the direction of the clogs. In the enthusiasm of the moment, he threw his hat on the beach, jumped into his canoe, and pulled out after the animal, every nerve thrilling with intense interest in the pursuit. The wind, which had been blowing steadily from the south during the night, had now increased to a gale, but he was too intent upon securing the valuable prize which was breasting the \vaves in advance, to heed the dictates of prudence. The race promised to be a long one, for the buck was a powerful animal, and was not easily to be beaten by a log canoe and a single paddle. A considerable distance from the land had been obtained, and the canoe had already shipped a heavy sea, before he overtook the deer, which turned and made for the opposite shore. Upon tacking to pursue him, Sweatland .was at once apprised of his danger by the fact that, with his utmost exertions, he not only made no progress in the desired direction, but was actually drifting out to sea. He had been observed, as he Left the shore, by kis neighbor, and also 134 A REMARKABI.T: HUNTING EXCURSION. 7 by his family, and as lie disappeared from sight, great apprehension was felt for his safety. The alarm was soon given in the neighborhood, and it was decided by those competent to judge, that his return would be impossible, and unless aid was afforded him, that he was doomed to perish. Actuated by those generous impulses which often induce men to risk their own lives for the salvation of others, three neighbors took a light boat and started in search of the wanderer. They met the deer returning, but saw nothing of their friend. The}- made stretches off shore in the probable range of the hunter, until they reached a distance of five or six miles from land, when, meeting with a heavy sea, in which they thought it impossible for a canoe to live, and seeing no signs of it on the vast expanse of waters, they reluctantly, and not without danger to themselves, returned to shore, giving Sweatland up as lost. Meantime, the object of their search was laboring at his paddle, in the vain hope that the wind might abate, or that aid might reach him from the shore. " An antlered dweller of the wild Had met his eager gaze, And far his wandering steps beguiled Within an unknown maze." Willingly would he now have resigned every lordly buck of the forest, to warm himself by his cabin fire, hear the laugh of his little ones, and breathe the odor of the welcome breakfast ay, even for his coat and a biscuit he would have given much. One or two schooners were in sight in the course of the day, but although he made every effort to attract the notice of their crews, he failed to do so. For a long time the shore continued in sight, and as he traced its fast-receding outline, and recognized the spot where stood his home, within whose precincts were the cherished objects of his affection, now doubly dear from the prospect of losing them forever, he felt that the last tie which united him in companion ship with his fellow-men was about to be dissolved the world, with all its busy interests, was floating far away. Sweatland possessed a cool head and a stout heart ; these, united to considerable physical strength and power of endurance, fitted him 135 8 TALES AND TRADITIONS. for the emergency in which he found himself. He was a good sailor, and liis experience taught him that " while there was- life there was hope." Experience taught him also, as the outline of the far-off shore receded from sight, that his only expedient was to endeavor to reach the Canada shore, a distance of fifty miles. It was now blowing a gale, so that it required the most incredible exertions to trim his uncouth vessel to the waves. He was obliged to stand erect, and move cautiously from one end to the other, well aware JJiat one lost stroke of the paddle, or a tottering movement, would bring his voyage to a sudden termination. Much of his attention was likewise required in bailing out the canoe, which he managed to do with one of his shoes, which were a substantial pair of stogas. Hitherto he had been blessed by the light of clay, but now, to add to his distress, night approached, and he could only depend upon a kind Providence to guide him over the watery waste. The sky, too, began to be overcast ; an occasional star, glistening through the scudding clouds, was all the light afforded him through that long and fearful night. Wet to the skin by the dashing spray ; part of the time in water half way to his knees ; so cold that his blood chilled in his veins, and almost famished, he felt that death was preferable to such long- continued suffering ; and nothing but the thought of his family gave him courage to keep up his exertions. When morning dawned, the outline of the Canada shore greeted his sight ; he soon made the land in the vicinity of Long Point. Here he met additional difficulties in an adverse wind and heavy breakers, but the same hand which had guided him thus far re mained with him still ; he succeeded in safely landing. What his emotions were upon again treading " the green and solid earth," we may faintly imagine ; but his trials were not ended. Faint with hunger and exhausted by fatigue, he was forty miles from human habitation, while the country which intervened was a desert, filled with marshes and tangled thickets, from which nothing could be drawn to supply his wants. These difficulties, together with his reduced state, made his progress toward the settlements very slow. On his way he found a quantity of goods which had been thrown ashore from the wreck of some vessel, which, though they afforded ISO A REMARKABLE HUNTING EXCURSION. no immediate relief, were afterward of service to him. After a long and toilsome march through the wilderness, he arrived at a settle ment, where he was treated with great kindness by the people. When his strength was sufficiently recruited, he procured a boat, and went after the wrecked goods, which he found and brought off. He then started overland for Buffalo, where he disposed of part of his treasure, and with the proceeds furnished himself with a complete outfit. Here, finding the Trawler, Captain Brown, from Conneaut, in the harbor, he engaged passage on board of her. The Captain and crew, having heard of his disappearance, looked upon him almost as one risen from the dead. His story was so astonishing as hardly to be credible ; but as he was there, in person, to verify it, they were obliged to believe the testimony. Within a day or two, he was on his way to rejoin his family, who, the Captain informed him, had given him up, and were in great grief and distress. When the packet arrived opposite the house, the crew gave three loud, long and hearty cheers, and fired guns from the deck in token of joy, which led the family to anticipate his return. On landing, he found that his funeral sermon had been preached, and had the rare privilege of seeing his own widow clothed in the habiliments of mourning. Deer hunting, even down to a recent period, was a chosen amuse ment in Ohio. At this time the animal is only found in the great forests of the north-west counties of Paulding, Van Wart, Williams, etc., and in the heavy woods of Wyandot and Hardin counties. Saudusky Bay, an estuary of Lake Erie, and one of the most beautiful sheets of water in America, is yet a great sportsman's resort, though now chiefly for wild water-fowl, whose spring and fall season calls thither many a modern Nimrod. The writer of this has spent many a season among the marshes and overflow-lands at the head of the bay in pursuit of game which, with proper care, will continue for years to afford good gunning. Only keep out the murderous blunder busses of certain Englishmen, which sweep away a whole flock of green-heads and canvas-backs at a shot. We have often been tempted to have arrested, as a common nuisance, these sneaking prowlers after " a shot for twenty birds not a whit less." But it was not of 137 10 TALES AND TRADITIONS. birds we are to write. Sandnsky Bay, in days gone by, used to afford rare sport in deer-hunting in the water. To illustrate : The bay is bounded on the east by a narrow strip of sand and cedars, which divides it from Lake Erie. On the north is the peninsula, another strip of rich soil, once densely covered with forests, stretching far to the west. The sport practiced in early times was to drive the deer with dogs from Cedar Point and the peninsula into the water, when they would make for the opposite shore, above the town of San- diisky. The heads of the beautiful animals could be seen a great dis tance, as they glided along the surface of the clear waters. Then boats would put out, in each of which was a dog no guns being allowed the men being armed only with a knife. The deer always would scent the danger from afar, and, with extraordinary celerity, move off up the bay, followed by the boats. When a comparatively near approach was at length made, after hard pulling for two or three miles, the dogs were let loose. Being fresh, and the deer somewhat exhausted from their long swim, the dogs would gain on their prey rapidly, and soon the struggle in the water would commence the noble bucks always receiving their enemy, while the ewes and fawns were kept out of harm's reach. The bucks were, if not too much exhausted, quite a match for the dogs.' Not unfrequently their antlers would crimson the water with the blood of their canine foe. The boats, mean while, were but spectators of the contest, and only came up when their dogs showed signs of defeat. A good dog, however, generally succeeded in fastening to the throat of his prey, and there clung with such tenacity as to sink and rise with the buck, avoiding the terrific strokes of its hoofs by laying close to the deer's body. One blow of a fore-hoof has been known to smash the skull of a mastiff. The sport, to those in the boats, is exciting in the extreme ; but strict honor used to govern the combats. The fawns and most of the ewes were permitted to escape, and the bucks were only slaughtered with the knife when it became evident that the dogs would be over powered, or when some favorite mastiff brought his game to the boat in a conquered condition. A startling adventure once occurred in the waters of the bay. A well-known hunter, named Dick Moxon, somewhat addicted to drink, one day saw a fine drove of deer coming in to land from the opposite *188 DICK MOXON'S FIGHT WITH THE DEER. 11 shore. He at once advanced, knife in hand, into the water to his waist. The bucks, three of them, led the convoy, and made directly for their enemy to coyer the retreat of the females. The hunter found himself in a position of imminent clanger, and sought to retreat, but this the deer did not permit, as one of them drove him down into the water by a terrible butt with his ugly antlers. Moxon grappled the deer, but the animal trampled the hunter and kept him down. With great presence of mind, Moxon disappeared under water and swam for the shore, coming up a rod nearer the land. This dodge did not save him, however, for the infuriated bucks pur sued, and soon the combat became terrible. Moxon cut right and left with his knife, making shocking wounds in the glistening bodies of the noble beasts ; but the fight was not stayed, and the hunter's strength, so severely overtaxed in the first encounter in deep water, began to give way entirely. A few minutes more must have seen him down in the water under the hoofs of the frenzied animals. At this moment a woman appeared on the shore. It was Moxon's wife, whose cabin was not far distant in the woods. Sally Moxou was as "coarse as a cow, but brave as a catamount," as her husband always averred ; and so she proved in this moment of Dick's peril. Seizing his rifle, which lay on the bank, she advanced to the rescue. One buck quickly fell from the well-aimed shot. Then she " clubbed" her gun, and made at the nearest beast with great caution. The buck made a furious dash at her, leaping at a bound out of the water, almost upon her, but Sally was wide awake, and was not caught by the ugly horns and hoofs. She struck the beast such a blow on its neck as broke both the gunstock and the buck's spinal column. With the rifle-barrel still in. her hand, Sally then made for the last buck, a very savage fellow, who still confronted Dick in a threaten ing manner. The fight which followed was severe. Sally was knocked down into the water, but Moxon's knife saved his spouse from being "trampled into a pudding," as he afterward expressed it. With all his remaining strength, he seized the deer by the horns, while with his left hand he buried his knife to the hilt in the ani mal's shoulder. The deer fell in the water, and Moxon went down under him ; but Sally was, by this time, on her feet again, and drag ged Dick's almost inanimate form to the shore. The victory was 139 12 TALKS AND TRADITIONS. complete, though Dick was so terribly bruised that the meat of the three bucks was long gone before the hunter could again go forth to kill more. The moral of the story is that he learned not only never to attack three bucks, single-handed, in four feet of water, but to let the whisky bottle alone. The adventure which we are now about to chronicle is quite as marvelous as those above related, although of another character. It is deeply interesting, as illustrating one of the many phases of danger which constantly lurked on the steps of the pioneers. Start ling as were the romantic realities of those early days, needing not the touch of fiction to heighten their interest, it will be confessed that few incidents can equal this for a novel combination of perils. The family of John Lewis were the first settlers of Augusta, in the State of Virginia, and consisted of himself, his wife, and four sons, Thomas, William, Andrew and Charles. Of these, the first three were born in Ireland, from whence the family came, and the last was a native of Virginia. Lewis was a man of wealth and station in the old country, and the cause of his present emigration to America was an attempt, on the part of a man of whom he hired some property, to eject him therefrom, which led to an affray, in which the noble landlord lost his life. Fearing, from the high standing of his antagonist, the desperate character of his surviving assailants, and the want of evi dence to substantiate his case, that his life would be in danger if he stayed, Lewis fled the country, accompanied by a party of his tenantry, and settled in the then western wilds of Virginia. The father appears to have been a man of remarkable force and energy, and all four of his sous rendered themselves conspicuous for deeds of daring and determined bravery during the early history of Western Virginia, and that of her infant sisters, Ohio and Kentucky, which would require volumes to relate. Charles Lewis, the hero of this sketch, was, even in early youth, distinguished for those qualifications which have rendered the class to which he belonged the Indian fighters so remarkable among men. .He was a young man when the Indians commenced their attacks upon the settlement of Western Virginia, but entered the contest with a zeal and courage which outstripped many of his 140 LEWIS AND THE RATTLESNAKE. 13 older and more boastful compeers. His astonishing self-possession and presence of mind carried him safely through many a gallant exploit, which has rendered his name as familiar, and his fame as dear to the memories of the descendants of the early settlers, as household words. Cool, cairn and collected in the face of danger, and quick-witted where others would be excited and tremulous, he was able to .grasp on the instant the propitious moment for action, and render subservient to his own advantage the most trifling incident. He was so unfortunate, on one occasion, as to be taken prisoner by a party of Indians while on a hunting excursion. Separated from his companions, he was surprised and surrounded before he was aware of his danger, and when he did become aware of his critical situation, he saw how futile it was to contend, and how reckless and fatal it must be to himself, should he kill one of his antagonists. He knew full well that the blood of his enemy would be washed out in his own, and that, too, at the stake ; whereas, if he surren dered peaceably, he stood a chance of being adopted by the Indians as one of themselves. Revolving these things in his mind, he quietly delivered up his rifle to his captors, who rejoiced exceedingly over their prisoner. Bareheaded, with his arms bound tightly be hind him, without a coat, and barefooted, he was driven forward some two hundred miles toward the Indian towns, his inhuman cap tors urging him on when he lagged, with their knives, and tauntingly reminding him of the trials which awaited him at the end of his journey. Nothing daunted, however, by their threats and menaces, he marched on in the weary path which led him further and further from his friends, perfectly tractable, so far as his body was concerned, > but constantly busy in his mind with schemes of escape. He bided Iris time, and at length the wished-for moment came. As the distance from the white settlements increased, the vigilance of the Indians relaxed, and his hopes strengthened. As the party passed aloug the edge of a precipice, some twenty feet high, at the foot of which ran a mountain torrent, he, by a powerful effort, broke the cords which bound his arms, and made the leap. The Indians, whose aim was to take him alive, followed him, and then commenced a race for life and liberty, which was rendered the more exciting by 141 14* TALES AND TRADITIONS. the fact that his pursuers were close upon him, and could at any moment have dispatched him. But such was not their desire, and on, on he sped, now buoyed up by hope as his recent captors were lost to sight, and anon despairing of success as he crossed an open space which showed them almost at his heels. At length, taking advantage of a thicket, through which he passed, and which hid him from their sight for a moment, he darted aside and essayed to leap a fallen tree which lay across his path. The tangled under brush and leaves which grew thickly around and almost covered the decaying trunk, tripped him as he leaped, and he fell with consid erable force on the opposite side. For an instant he was so stunned by the fall as to lose his consciousness, but soon recovered it to find that the Indians were searching every nook in his immediate vicinity, and that he had fallen almost directly upon a large rattlesnake which had thrown itself into the deadly coil so near his face that his fangs were within a few inches of his nose. Is it possible for the most vivid imagination to conceive of a more horrible and terrifying situation ? Tiie pursuit of his now highly exasperated and savage enemies, who thirsted for his recapture that they might wreak upon him an appalling revenge, which of itself was a danger calculated to thrill the nerves of the stoutest system, had now become a secondary fear, for death in one of its most terrifying and soul-sickening forms was vibrating on the tongue, and darting from the eye of the reptile before him, so near, too, that the vibratory motion of his rattle as it waved to and fro, caused it to strike his ear. The slightest move ment of a muscle a convulsive shudder almost the winking of an eyelid, would have been the signal for his death. Yet, in the midst of this terrible danger, his presence of mind did not leave him, but 4 like a faithful friend did him good service in his hour of trial. Know ing the awful nature of his impending fate, and conscious that the slightest quivering of a nerve would percipitate it, he scarcely breathed, and the blood flowed feebly through his veins as he lay looking death in the eye. Surrounded thus by double peril, he was conscious that three of the Indians had passed over the log behind which he lay without observing him, and disappeared in the dark recesses of the forest. Several minutes which to him were as many 142 COLONEL HOURY, OF " MARION'S BRIGADE." 15 hours passed in this terrifying situation, until the snake, apparently satisfied that he was dead, loosed his threatening coil, and passing directly over his body, was lost to sight in the luxuriant growth of weeds which grew up around the fallen tree. Oh ! what a thrill what a revulsion of feeling shook his frame as he was relieved from this awful suspense. Tears tears of joyous gratitude coursed down his cheeks as he poured out his heart to God in thankfulness for his escape. " I had eaten nothing," said he to his companions, after his return, " for many days ; I had no fire-arms, and I ran the risk of dying with hunger before I could reach the settlements; but rather would I have died than have made a meal of that generous beast.* He was still in imminent danger from the Indians, who knew that he had hidden in some secluded spot, and were searching with the utmost zeal every nook and corner to find him. He was fortunate enough, however, to escape them, and after a weary march through the wilderness, during which he suffered intensely from hunger, he reached the settlements. COLONEL HORRY, OF " MARIOFS BRIGADE." IT is much to be regretted that the chronicles of the war of the Rev olution in the South are so meager in personal incidents. There can be but one reason for this : the want of a local historian to gather up and preserve in print the details of the contest, ere the actors of those stirring scenes had passed from the stage for the wild and stirring adventures of " Marion's Men," and of others in North and South Carolina, must have been as full of romance as the heart of the historian could- desire. It is fortunate that one of Marion's oflicers did wield the pen a little, as well as the sword. Colonel Horry served under General Marion. His adventures were numerous and some of them amusing. He left a manuscript memoir, giving the particulars of some of his exploits, among others the one illustrated in our engraving. * It was no unusual thing for hungry hunters, like the Indians, to dine upon broiled rattlesnake! 143 10 TALES AND TRADITIONS. He was brave, and ambitious of distinction. This ambition led him to desire a command of cavalry rather than of infantry. But he was no rider was several times unhorsed in combat, and was indebted to the fidelity of his soldiers for his safety. On one occa sion his escape was more narrow from a different cause. Crossing the swamp at Lynch's Creek, to join Marion, in the dark, and the horse swimming, he encountered the bough of a tree, to which he clung while his horse passed from under him. He was no swimmer, and but for timely assistance from his followers would have been drowned. Another story is told of him which places him in a scarcely less ludicrous attitude : He was ordered by Marion to await, in ambush, the approach of a British detachment. The duty was executed with skill : the enemy was completely in his power. But he labored under an impediment in his speech, which we may readily suppose was greatly increased by anxiety and excitement. The word " Fire !" stuck in his throat, as " amen" did in that of Macbeth. The emergency was pressing, but this only increased the difficulty. In vain did he make the attempt. He could say : " Fi fi fi 1" but he could get no further ; the " er " was incorrigible. At length, irritated almost to madness, he exclaimed : " Shoot, d n you, shoot ! you know what I w T ould say ! Shoot, and be d d to you !" He was present, and acted bravely, in almost every affair of con sequence, in the brigade of Marion. At Quimly, Captain Baxter, a man distinguished by his great strength and courage, as well as size, and by equally great simplicity of character, cried out : " I am wounded, Colonel !" " Think no more of it, Baxter," was the answer of Horry, " but stand to your post." " But I can't stand," says Baxter, " I am wounded a second time." ** Lie down then, Baxter, but quit not your post." "They have shot me again, Colonel," said the wounded man, "and if I stay any longer here, I shall be shot to pieces." " Be it so, Baxter, but stir not," was the order, which the brave fellow obeyed, receiving a fourth wound ere the engagement was over. 144 COLONEL IIORRY, OF " MARION'S BRIGADE." 19 Another adventure is thus related by Hony himself: " I was sent," he writes, " by General Marion to reconnoiter Georgetown. I proceeded with a guide through the woods all night. At the dawn of day, I drew near the town. I laid an ambuscade, with thirty men and three officers, near the road. About sunrise a chair ap peared with two ladies escorted by two British officers. I was ready in advance with an officer to cut them off, but reflecting that they might escape, and alarm the town, which would prevent my taking greater numbers, I desisted. The officers and chair halted very near me, but soon the chair went on, and the officers galloped in retro grade into the town. Our party continued in ambush, until ten o'clock, A. M. Nothing appearing, and men and horses having eaten nothing for thirty-six hours, we were hungered, and retired to a plan tation of my quartermaster's, a Mr. White, not far distant. There a curious scene took place. As soon as I entered the house, four ladies appeared, two of whom were Mrs. White and her daughter. I was asked what I wanted. I answered, food, refreshment. The other two ladies were those whom I had seen escorted by the British officers. They seemed greatly agitated, and begged most earnestly that I would go away, for the family was very poor, had no provi sions of any sort that I knew that they were Whigs, and surely would not add to their distress. So pressing were they for my im mediately leaving the plantation, that I thought they had more in view than they pretended. I kept my eyes on Mrs. White, and saw she had a smiling countenance, but said nothing. Soon she left the room, and I left it also and went into the piazza, laid my cap, sword and pistols on the long bench, and walked the piazza ; when I discovered Mrs. White behind the house chimney beckoning me. I got to her, undiscovered by the young ladies, when she said : ' Col onel Horry, be on your guard ; these two ladies, Miss F and M , are just from Georgetown ; they are much frightened, and I believe the British are leaving it and may soon attack you. As to provi sions, which they make such a rout about, I have plenty for your men and horses in yonder barn, but you must affect to take them by force. Hams, bacon, rice and fodder are there. You must insist on the key of the barn, and threaten to split the door with an ax if not immediately opened.' I begged her to say no more, for I was 147 20 TALES AND TRADITIONS. well acquainted with all such matters to leave the ladies and every thing else to my management. She said ' Yes ; but do not ruin us : be artful and cunning, or Mr. White may be hanged and all our houses burned over our heads.' We both secretly returned, she to the room where the young ladies were, and I to the piazza I had just left." This little narrative will give some idea of the straits to which the good whig matrons of Carolina were sometimes reduced in those days. But no time was allowed Horry to extort the provisions as suggested. He had scarcely got to the piazza when his videttes gave the alarm. Two shots warned him of the approach of the foe, and forgetting that his cap, saber and pistols lay on the long bench on the piazza, Horry mounted his horse, left the inclosure, and rushed into the melee The British were seventeen in number, well mounted and commanded by a brave fellow named Merritt. The dragoons, taken by surprise, turned in flight, and, smiting at every step, the partisans pursued them with fatal earnestness. But two men are reported to have escaped death or captivity, and they were their Captain and a Sergeant. It was in approaching to encounter Men-it that Horry discovered that he was weaponless. " My officers," says he, " in succession, came up with Captain Merritt, who was in the rear of his party, urging them forward. They engaged him. He was a brave fellow. Baxter, with pistols, fired at his breast, and missing him, retired ; Postelle and Greene, with swords, engaged him ; both were beaten off. Greene nearly lost his head. His buck skin breeches were cut through several inches. I almost blush to say that this one British officer beat off three Americans." The honor of the day was decidedly with Merritt, though he was beaten. He was : no doubt a far better swordsman than our self-taught cav alry, with broadswords wrought out of mill-saws. Merritt abandoned his horse, and escaped to a neighboring swamp, from whence, at midnight, he got into Georgetown. Colonel Horry, after the war, met Captain Merritt in New York, when the latter recognized him, and in the interview which followed, confessed, that although so desperate in his self-defense he was never more frightened in his life. " Believe me, sir," said he, " when I assure you that I went out 148 COLONEL HORRY, OF " MARION'S BRIGADE. 21 that morning with my locks as bright an auburn as ever curled upon the forehead of youth, but by the time I had crawled out of the swamp into Georgetown that night, they were as gray as a badger I" If this is true, he must indeed have been wofully frightened, for the records of such an effect of terror are few and far between. One of Byron's heroes says that " His locks grew white, In a single night." But that was with grief, and not with fear. Kerry's award of praise to the British Captain for his courage in beating off three of his own men, was both generous and ingenious, when it is considered that the Englishman was a scientific swords man, possessing a superior weapon, while his antagonists were self- taught, and their swords, if not beaten out of " plowshares," were veritably made out of mill-saws. In one of his numerous encounters, while his men were individu ally engaged and scattered through the woods around him, he sud denly found himself alone, and assailed by a Tory Captain, named Lewis, at the head of a small party. Lewis was armed with a musket, and in the act of firing, when an unexpected shot from the woods tumbled him off his horse, in the very moment when his own gun was discharged. The bullet of Lewis took effect on Horry's horse. The shot which so seasonably slew the Tory was sent' by the hand of a boy named Given. Colonel Horry gives, in his memoirs, a good illustration of the mingled firmness and forbearance with which Marion enforced disci pline amidst men and circumstances not any too easily governed. Marion had placed one of his detachments at the plantation of George Crofts, on Tampit Creek. This person had proved invariably true to the American cause ; had supplied the partisans frequently, though secretly, with munitions of war, cattle and provisions. He was an invalid, however, suffering from a mortal infirmity, which compelled his removal, for medical attendance, to Georgetown, then in posses sion of the enemy. During the absence of the family, Marion placed a Sergeant in the house for its protection. This guard was ex pelled from the premises by two officers of the brigade, who stripped the house of its contents. Colonel Horry disclosed these facts to U9 23 TALES AND TRADITIONS. General Marion the Colonel having received them from Mrs. Crofts, who had pointed to the sword of her husband hanging by the side of the principal offender. The indignation of Marion was not apt to expend itself in words. Redress was promised to the complainant, and she was dismissed. The offenders were men of some influence, and had a small fac tion in the brigade, which had already proved troublesome, and which might easily become dangerous. One of them was a Major, the other a Captain. They were in command of a company of men known as the Georgia Refugees. Upon the minds of these men the offenders had already sought to act, in reference to the expected col lision with their General. Marion dispatched Horry to the person who had possession of the sword of Crofts, with a formal demand for the weapon. He refused to give it up, alleging that it was his, and taken in war. " If the General wants it," he added, " let him come for it him self." When this reply was communicated to Marion, he instructed Horry to renew the demand. His purpose seems to have been, dis covering the temper of the offender, to gain the necessary time. His officers, meanwhile, were gathering around him. He was making his preparations for a struggle which might be bloody which might, indeed, involve, not only the safety of the brigade, but his own future usefulness. Horry, with proper spirit, entreated not to be sent again to the refractory officer, giving as the reason for his reluc tance, that, in consequence of the previous rudeness of the other, he was not in the mood to tolerate a repetition of the indignity, and might, if irritated, be provoked to violence. Marion then dispatched his orderly to the guilty Major, with a civil request that he might see him at head-quarters. The Major appeared, accompanied by the Captain who had joined him in the outrage, and under whose influence he appeared to act. Marion renewed his demand, in person, for the sword of Crofts. The Major again refused to deliver it, asserting that Crofts was a Tory, even then with the enemy in Georgetown. " Will you deliver me the sword, Major ?" repeated the General. " I will not." 150 COLONEL IIORKY, OF " MARION'S BRIGADE." 2-j "At these words," says Horry, in liis memoirs, "I could forbear no longer, and said with great Avarmth, and a great oath : " Did I, sir, command this brigade, as you do, I would hang them both in half an hour !" Marion sternly replied : " This is none of your business, sir ; they are before me ! Ser geant of the guard, bring me a file of men with loaded arms and fixed bayonets." " I was silent," added Horry. " All our field-officers in camp were present, and they had put their hands to their swords in readiness to draw. My own sword was already drawn." In the regular service, with officers bred up to the severe sense of authority considered necessary to proper discipline, the offender would probably have been hewn down in the moment of disobedience. The effect of such a measure, in this instance, might have been most, unhappy. The esprit du corps might have prompted the Major's immediate followers to have resisted, and, though annihilated, as Horry says they would have been, yet several valuable lives would have been lost, which their country could ill spare. The mutiny would have been put down, but at what a price ! The patience and prudence of Marion's character taught him forbearance. His mildness, by putting the offender entirely in the wrong, so justified his severity, as to disarm the followers of the criminals, who were about sixty in number. Horry continues : " The purpose of the officers was, to call upon these men for support we well knew they meant, if possible, to in timidate Marion, so as to compel him to come into their measures of plunder and Tory killing. The affair, fortunately, terminated with out any bloodshed. The prudence of the General had its effect. The delay gave time to the offender for reflection. Perhaps, look ing around upon their followers, they saw no consenting spirit of mutiny in their eyes ; for, though many of the refugees were present, none offered to back the mutinous officers and when the guard which was ordered appeared in sight, the companion of the offender was seen to touch the arm of the other, who then proffered the sword to Marion, saying: " ' General, you need not have sent for the guard.' " 115 24 TALES AND TRADITIONS. Marion, refusing to receive it, referred him to the Sergeant of the guard, and thus, doubly degraded, the dishonored Major of the Con tinentals disappeared from sight, followed by his associate: Another one of Marion's bravest men was Sergeant Jasper, of whom the readers of a former number have already heard in connec tion with the melancholy and romantic story of the young Creole girl, who followed him to camp, in the disguise of a soldier, and sacrificed her life to preserve that of the man she loved, by rushing in between him and the shot aimed at his breast. Sergeant William Jasper, at the time of the affair which we are about to relate, belonged to the Second regiment of the South Caro lina militia, having enlisted under Marion, who was then a Captain. Jasper, from the day of his entering the camp, had been proverbial for his bravery. His coolness and valor in times of emergency, and more than all, his utter disregard of danger, had won for him the golden opinions of his comrades, with the esteem and confidence of his commander. Jasper possessed remarkable talents and capacity for a scout. Bold, active and shrewd, with a frame capable of every endurance the result of a hardy, backwoods life and retaining those noble qualities of bravery and generosity which were the shining points of his character, he was admirably adapted for that dangerous but important branch of the service. Combining, in happy harmony, so many virtues, it is not surprising that he won the affec tions of his associates, and the entire confidence of his commander, who was so assured of his fitness that he granted him a roving commission, with full power to select from the brigade such men and as many as he should think proper. But of these he never, or sel dom, selected more than six or eight, preferring, by this small band, celerity and secrecy. He was almost universally successful, often penetrating the enemy's camp, or cutting off his rear or advanced guard, and then returning with his prisoners, or his information, according to the circumstances of the case. So rapid were his move ments, that he has been known to disappear from the camp and return again with his prisoners, ere his absence was noticed by the commandant. He would often enter the enemy's camp as a deserter, and complaining of the ill usage he had received from his country men, so gain upon their confidence, that he would completely disarm 153 SERGEANT JASPER. 2.") them of his real intentions, and after satisfying himself of their strength, position, intentions, and the like, would return and report his knowledge to the commander. Oil one of these occasions, he remained in the enemy's camp eight days, and then returned, after first informing himself of every thing necessary that could be of any use to his General. This game, however, could be played but once. Never at a loss how to proceed, he, with his usual promptness, devised other ways and means to gain his information. It was while he was in the employment of one of these roving expeditions, that he prepared to again enter the camp of the British at Ebenezer. It so happened that he had a brother at this post, who was in the employ of the enemy a melancholy instance among many other cases of a like nature, which occurred during the war who was a Tory, and who held the same rank in the British army that he possessed in the American. The brothers were equally dear to each other, though opposite in political sentiment. William Jasper loved his brother in the natural warmth of his generous heart, and wished to see him. He also wished to inform himself of the enemy's movements. With this double object in his mind, he therefore prepared for his departure, taking with him only one companion, a brave 3 7 mmg fellow, like himself, who had shared with him many a " happy hunt," as he termed it, to the united honor of both. This young officer's name was Newton, holding the same rank in the service as Jasper, namely, a Sergeant. It was about sunset when the two young officers left the camp for their destination. Passing the American lines, they proceeded on rapidly toward the British camp, which lay some few miles from Abercorn. Taking the direct road to the latter place, they traveled rapidly until they arrived in sight of the encamped British force, at Abercorn. " We must now make a detour" said Jasper, halting, " in order to avoid the British at this place, and not be discovered. Our route lies to the south-east a little, and to shorten the journey, we must pass yonder forest, the southern side of which borders upon a small lake or pond, a very convenient place for a respite after the toils and fatigues of a whole clay's travel. I have often met straggling parties of Tories or British in this forest, or around the margin of the lake, 153 20 TALES AND TRADITIOHS. and it is necessary, therefore, to proceed carefully while passing if. Just beyond the lake is a small hill, from the summit of which the town of Ebenezer can be seen some three or four miles distant. After we pass this forest and hill, we must observe the utmost silence and scrutiny, for we are then in the immediate vicinity of and between the two British posts, which will necessarily place us in a double danger from the meeting of scouts or Tories from either or both camps." With these directions the two now resumed their journey, taking a small path leading to the left, and directly in line of the forest. A few minutes of brisk walking brought them to the outskirts of the forest, which was an extensive piece of woodland, stretching with occasional intervals far to the south-east, interrupted by a few broken and uneven ranges of hills, somewhat elevated, but scarcely sufficiently so to be called mountains. On the left of our travelers, the forest broke off abruptly, a short distance above them, while its width was about a quarter of a mile. It was quite dark ere they reached the woods, which seemed to them almost impenetrable, having nothing but the faint glimmering of the stars to guide them. The day had been very clear, however, which left the atmosphere perfectly free, with nothing to interrupt the twinklings of the little suns in the distant spheres. As they entered the forest, they turned to the right, and struck into the main road leading from Abercorn. They had proceeded some fifty yards, when Jasper's accustomed ear caught the sound of horses' hoofs upon the dry soil, moving somewhat rapidly toward them. Motioning his comrade to halt, he remained an instant listening to the sound, and then darted off into the thicket on his left, quickly followed by Newton. Scarcely were they concealed behind a thick cluster of small cedars, ere the horsemen, for such they proved to- be, came up. Jasper instantly recognized them as a party of British horse, bound on some scouting expedition. Halting directly opposite to our travelers, two of them, who appeared to be the leaders of the squad, dismounted and withdrew a short distance. The road, at this place, was considerably wider than the usual width, which caused a small opening in the wood, and which seemed a very convenient situation for a halt. As the officers retired, they fortu- 154 SERGEANT JASPER. 27 nately came directly abreast of the cedars, behind which Jasper and his comrade were ensconced, so that their conversation could easily be distinguished by both of the latter. " Our prisoners are no doubt safely within the lines of Ebenezer, ere this," began the first, " unless rescued by some of their rebel brethren, which I think can hardly be the case, as we were close to the town when we left them." " No fear of that, Lieutenant," replied the second, " for the rebel dogs would not dare to be so audacious." " I am not so sure *of that," exclaimed the other, doubtingly ; " that Jasper has the audacity of Satan himself, and if he should be in the neighborhood, I should almost fear for our prisoners. How ever, if they are once within the lines, no power will save them, as I am assured by the commandant that they will be sent to Savannah for trial and execution, which will have the effect of intimidating, at least, these rebel curs from further marauding expeditions ;" and he chuckled with an air of self-satisfaction at the thought of their petty victory. J' Well, be that as it may, Lieutenant," replied his comrade, " it is another letter in our catalogue of victories, which serves to make us more popular with the commandant. In either case, we get our thanks, you know, and that is something toward elevating us toward our desired height." " True," rejoined the Lieutenant. "But let us not waste more time and words than is necessary. Let me see," he added, thought fully, " we will pursue our course north to Abercorn, and deliver our message to the commander, and then shape our proceedings as shall seem most fit." With these words, the two officers mounted their horses, and were soon lost to view, with their party, on the road to the northern station. Jasper and his friend now emerged from their place of conceal ment, and taking the road opposite to the direction of the royalists, resumed their journey. " So, so," exclaimed Jasper, as they hurried along, " they have taken some 'rebel curs' prisoners, have they? And they will no doubt give them the benefit of ' short shrift and sudden cord,' if they 155 TALES AND TRADITIONS. act in consonance with their general character. But we must endeavor to rescue them, if their guard is not too strong for us, which I hardly think will he the case, as they will have no fear of such a thing in the immediate vicinity of their own lines." " It is a hazardous undertaking, Jasper," replied Newton, " and must be attended with a great deal of risk, as, you know, the enemy occupy every point of note between this and Savannah ; and besides, there is scarcely an hour of the day that some of their scouting- parties do not prowl between the posts." " So much the more glory if we succeed," said the noble Jasper ; " and if we fail, why then we share their fate. And we could not sacrifice ourselves in a nobler cause. There is another reason why we should endeavor to rescue them, and that is, they are prisoners, and will, no doubt, be driven to their execution within the walls of Savannah without even the right of a trial ; for the British are notorious for their bloody propensities, and seek to vent their hate upon poor captives in a cruel and shameful manner." " I am certainly of your opinion," said Newton, " still we must not be impetuous. Our country needs all the help she can command, and she does not require us to sacrifice our lives in endeavoring to accomplish impossibilities. However, we shall soon see." The officers had now nearly reached the limits of the forest, and taking the right of two roads which here joined, they were presently in the open country. Nothing of importance occurred to them during the rest of the journey, which was accomplished in safety to the British lines. Arriving at the advanced guard, and having left New ton concealed until his return, Jasper promptly gave the password, and soon found himself within the enemy's camp. Passing on hastily, he entered his brother's quarters, whom he found just about issuing forth to detail a file of men for special duty to guard the prisoners recently captured, having been sent into Ebenezer on their way to Savannah for trial. These prisoners had taken up arms against their countrymen at the beginning of the contest ; but as the British had been in a measure overthrown, they again joined the ranks of the patriots, and on being taken, were to be executed. This was only one instance of hundreds of others who had acted similarly. 156 SERGEANT JASPER. 29 The brothers Jasper were mutually rejoiced to see each other ; but the Tory shook his head doubtfully as he beheld his brother again within the British camp, after having so shrewdly deceived them on a former occasion. But William Jasper quickly reassured his mind on this point, and bade him be under no uneasiness. Having ascertained from his brother the number of men who were to conduct the prisoners to Savannah, at what time they intended to leave, aud also making such other inquiries as he deemed proper, Jasper bade him adieu, and soon sought his comrade, New ton, whom he found anxiously waiting his return. " I have received information from my brother," he said, " that these prisoners leave to-morrow morning at sunrise for Savannah, under a guard of eight men, and accompanied by a Sergeant and a Corporal. The odds is not so very great after all ; and I think by a little stratagem and boldness we can succeed in rescuing them. At all events, let us make the trial." But Jasper's friend was not so sure of success. Ten to two, and those two unarmed, seemed to him too great odds to contend with, as having any chance of succeeding. But when Jasper related to him that one of these prisoners was a woman who had a young child, and that she was the wife of one of the captured men, his heart was touched at the melancholy spectacle, and he instantly coincided with his friend that they should attempt their rescue. This being their conclusion, they conferred as to the best means of accom plishing the desired object. This was soon decided upon. They determined to linger around the fortifications until they should see the prisoners, with their guard, set out for the place of destination, and then follow their footsteps until a convenient opportunity offered to put into force the execution of their design. Accordingly, select ing a secure concealment near the lines to await the approach of dawn, they threw themselves upon the ground, and being somewhat fatigued, soon fell asleep. The day was just beginning to emerge ere Jasper awoke, so sound had been his rest, aud springing up, he aroused his friend. All was activity in the British camp. Men were hurrying to and fro, preparing for the duties of the day. In fact, the whole camp seemed to be astir to Jasper and his comrade, as they issued 157 30 TALES AND TRADITIONS. from their place of concealment to watch the movements of the enemy. They had not proceeded far before their attention was arrested by a file of soldiers marching out into the iuclosure and then coming to a halt, as though waiting further orders. Presently a body of men, with their arms pinioned, was marched directly to their front. Dividing their force, the prisoners were placed in the center, with a portion of their guard in front and rear. Every thing being now in readiness, the whole party started off toward their destined point, leaving the village at the southern extremity. Jasper and his companion now made a circuit of the village, so as not to be discovered, and in order to place themselves on the track of the troop. Having secured a suitable distance from the guard, they followed them silently, watching their opportunity when to make the endeavor. In this way they continued to track their friends and their guards for some time, without any prospect of accomplishing their design, until they were within two miles of Savannah. They had become nearly discouraged, when Jasper suddenly recollected that just ahead of them there was a noted spring, at which place they conjectured the guard would halt, with their prisoners, to refresh themselves. The spring was known to travelers, who, when journeying that way, seldom or never passed it without tasting its crystalline waters. Jasper and Newton were right in their conjectures. Arriving opposite the spring, the guard halted their prisoners in the road under the shade of a large oak-tree, \vhich stood just on the margin of the road, and between that and the spring. Our heroes, however, had reached the spring before the British, having taken an obscure path with which they were well acquainted, and placing themselves in ambush, awaited the arrival of the enemy. The day was warm, and as the guard halted, the prisoners, glad to rest their wearied limbs after so long a march, threw themselves upon the earth under the shade of the tree, little dreaming of the succor so near at hand. Very soon after, they were conducted to the spring by the Corporal with four men. The remainder of the guard were under the charge of the Sergeant, who halted them on the road a short distance from the spring, and having ordered them 158 SERGEANT JASPER. 31 1.o stack their arms, brought up the rear. After having sufficiently quenched their thirst, the whole party returned, leaving two men on guard of the arms which were all stacked near the spring. These two men kept guard but indifferently. They had nothing to fear within so short a distance of the fortress at Savannah, conscious of being surrounded by none of their foes, and inclosed within the ver}' stronghold of the British lines. It is not surprising that they should not maintain a very strict watch under such circumstances. The propitious moment for the daring and hazardous attempt was drawing near, which was eagerly watched by Jasper and his com rade in their adjoining ambush. The localities of the place, the position of the guard, the nearness of the ambush in short, every thing seemed most appropriate and advantageous. The spring, as we have said, was situated on the left, within a few feet of the road, between which and the water stood the arms of the guard in charge of the two men, who were lazily em ployed in watching the bubblings of the fountain, and then tracing its clear waters as they flowed silently off in a small rivulet in a winding direction, until lost in the thick foliage a few rods below. Beyond, and in full view, were the walls and fortifications of Savan nah, almost within hailing distance of the spot which our heroes have rendered immortal by their daring achievement. The remaining guard stood in a group on the opposite side of the road, conversing freely and gayly, and utterly unconscious of the presence of an enemy, while the prisoners were reclining under the stately oak, a little on the left of the British. The two soldiers were conversing cheerfully, having seated them selves by the side of the spring, little dreaming that this colloquy was destined to be their last. Presently, the two arose, and leaning their muskets against a small tree, close to where Jasper and his comrade lay concealed, they proceeded to fill their canteens with the refreshing draught of the spring. At this moment Jasper gave the signal. Springing out from their ambush, he and his companion seized the loaded weapons, and instantly leveling them, shot the two soldiers dead upon the ground. 33 TALES AND TRADITIONS. Then rushing upon the guard, they clubbed theii muskets, and as sailing two of the remaining soldiers, who were in advance of tho rest, they felled them to the earth, and before the astonished guard could recover from their surprise, they rushed to the stack of arms, and with presented weapons, instantly demanded the surrender of the whole troop. The British officers seeing their perilous situation, and noticing the determined looks of Jasper and Newton, and bein.j; withal deprived of their arms, complied with their demand, and yielded themselves and their men as prisoners of war. To set free the captives was but the work of an instant, and placing the muskets of the captured British into their hands, Jasper ordered the irons to be placed upon the new prisoners ; and then hurrying away from this spot, which they have immortalized with a name not soon to be forgotten, they crossed the Savannah with both friends and foes, and were soon rapidly marching toward the American camp. Thus was this noble act achieved, of which history furnishes but few parallels ; and which strikingly illustrates the coolness, determi nation and bravery, which ever characterized the noble-hearted Jasper. But, unforturrately for his country, she was soon destined to lose his valuable services, when, in the very hey-day of his youth, he sealed his patriotism with his heart's blood before the walls of Savannah. ELERSOFS TWENTY-FIVE MILE RACE. AMONG the members of that celebrated rifle corps, commanded by Daniel Morgan, to which we already have referred, was a man by the name of Elerson, who, in deeds of daring and intrepidity, was almost a mulch for Timothy Murphy, whose frequent companion lie was when on an expedition against their mutual enemies, the Tories, red-coats, and Indians. Quick of perception, rapid in his conclu sions and his actions, light of foot, and brave as a lion, he was an enemy whom the Indians feared, and a friend whom all reckoned as second only to the renowned Murphv himself. The corps to which 160 ELEIISON'S TWENTY-FIVE MUE RACE. 35 these celebrated marksmen belonged was attached to the expedition of Generals Clinton and Sullivan against the Six Nations in 1779. Elerson was with Clinton when that officer halted at Otsego Lake, to await the coming up of his superior, from the direction of Wyo ming. While the army lay at this place, Elerson rambled off from the main body, in search of adventure, and pulse for the dinner of the mess to which he belonged. Regardless of danger, he wandered about until he had procured a quantity of the weed, when he pre pared to return to camp. It seems that he had been discovered and tracked by a party of Indians, who determined upon his capture. As he was adjusting his burden, he heard a rustling of the leaves near him. Looking in the direction indicated, he discovered a band of six or eight Indians, stationed between him and the camp, so as to cut off his retreat in that direction, and who were in the act of springing upon him. Conscious of their object for he might have been shot down with ease he determined to foil them if in his power, knowing full well the fate of a prisoner in their hands. Seizing his rifle, he dropped his bundle, and fled through the only avenue left open for his escape, followed by the whole pack, hooting and yelling at his heels. As he started to run, half a dozen toma hawks were hurled at him, and came whizzing and flying through the air. Fortunately but one reached its object, and that nearly cut the middle finger from his left hand. With the agility of the hunted stag, Elerson bounded over an old brushwood fence which stood in his path, and darted into the shades of the forest, followed by his no less rapid pursuers. Aware that the course he had taken was away from the camp so also were his enemies he prepared himself for a mighty effort, trusting that an opportunity would offer to " double" and find his way back. Vain hope ! The Indians, aware that such would naturally be his aim, took care to prevent it by spreading themselves somewhat in the form of a crescent ; but, in so doing, they nearly lost sight of their prey. Fearful that he might escape, they discharged their rifles hoping to wound or kill him but with no effect. The brave fellow tried every nerve to outstrip, and every stratagem and device to mislead his savage pursuers ; but they were too cunning to be deceived, and* kept on his track with the ardor of blood-hounds. Four long hours the chase continued 163 88 TALES AND TRADITIONS. thus, until overtasked nature threatened to give way, and yield him to the tomahawk and seal ping-knives of his enemies. Like some powerful engine, his heart was forcing the blood through his dis tended and throbbing veins, which were swollen to bursting with the mighty efforts of the chase. His breath came short and rapid, be tokening a speedy termination of the race, unless a breathing spell was afforded him. An opportunity at last was offered, when, hav ing, as he thought, outstripped his pursuers for a moment, he halted in a little lonely dell to recover his waning strength. His hope was destined to disappointment, however, for the circle closed in upon him, and the bust of an Indian presented itself at a slight opening in front. He raised his rifle to fire, but at that moment a shot from his rear admonished him that danger was all around ; another took effect in his side, and warned him of the danger of delay. The In dian in front had disappeared, and he hastened forward, with the love of life still strong in his breast. The wound in his side bled freely, although only a flesh-wound, and therefore not dangerous nor painful. It served, however, to track him by, and, conscious of the fact, he managed to tear a strip from his hunting-shirt and staunch the blood. On, on went pursuer and pursued over hill and dale, brook, stream let and running stream through brier and bramble, through field and wood until the parched and burning tongue of the fugitive protruded from his mouth swelled to such distention as almost to stop his breathing. Exhausted nature could do no more ; he threw himself prostrate on the bank of a tiny brook, resolved to yield the contest for the sake of a hearty draught of its clear, sparkling waters. He bathed his brow in the cool element, and drank deeply of its reviving virtues. Raising his head, he discovered the fore most of the now scattered and equally exhausted enemy, crossing the brow of a ridge over which he had just passed. The instinct of preservation was awakened afresh in his bosom at the sight ; he started to his feet and raised his rifle, but failing strength would not allow of a certain aim, and an empty weapon would insure his death. Another moment, and he would be at the mercy of his enemy, with out hope or chance of life. Again he raised his trusty rifle, and, steadying its barrel against a sapling, he secured his aim, fired, and the Indian fell headlong in death. Before the echoes of the report 164 WILLIAM KENXAN. 37 had died away in the neighboring hills, he beheld the remainder of the band of eager, hungry pursuers coming over the ridge ; he then felt that his minutes indeed were numbered. Hidden partially by the tree behind which he stood, they did not discover him, how ever ; and while they paused over the body of their fallen comrade, he made another attempt to fly. He staggered forward fell and, exerting his failing powers to the utmost, he managed to reach a thicket of young trees, overgrown with wild vines, into which he threw himself with the energy of desperation. Fortune favored him ; he discovered the rotten trunk of a fallen tree, whose hollow butt, hidden and screened by the deep shadow of the surrounding foliage, offered an asylum from the impending death which seemed so near. The approaching steps of the savages quickened his move ments, as he crawled head first into the recess, which was barely large enough to admit his person. Here he lay within, hearing of the efforts made to discover his hiding-place, until they died away in the distance. Conscious, however, that the Indians would search long and anxiously for him, he lay in this situation for two days and nights. When he ventured out he knew not which way to turn, but striking off at random, he soon emerged upon a clearing near Cob- bleskill a distance of twenty-five miles from his place of starting. The brave fellow had earned his liberty ; and the Indians never ceased to recur to the race, with grunts of approbation at the white man's power of endurance. Another race for life, not so lengthy, but equally exciting while it lasted, is related in the historical records of Kentucky that State whose infancy was " baptized in blood." William Kennan, a brother spirit of Kenton, Hunt, and Boone, a ranger renowned for strength and courage, had joined the expedition of St. Clair against the Indians. In the course of the march from Fort Washington he had repeated opportunities of testing his surprising powers, and was admitted to be the swiftest runner of the light corps. This expedi tion of St. Clair was organized after the disastrous defeat of Har- mar by the Indians, in 1779. Washington, who was at this time President, determined to employ a force sufficient to crush out the savages. This force was to have been two thousand regular troops, composed of cavalry, infantry and artillery, and a large number of 165 TALES AND TRADITIONS. militia which were ordered to move from the several States in which they had been enlisted, toward Fort Washington, now Cincinnati, where the men rendezvoused in September. The object of the cam paign was to establish a line of posts, stretching from the Ohio to the Maumee, to build a strong post on the latter river, and by leav ing in it a garrison of a thousand men, to enable the commander of the fort to send out detachments to keep the Indians in awe. But there was difficulty about organizing the array, St. Glair being very unpopular in Kentucky ; the season was far advanced before he took the field, and when he did, he had only about two thousand men all told, and from these, desertions were continually taking place. The Kentucky levies were reckless and ungovernable, the conscripts from the other States were dissatisfied, and to make matters worse, the mountain leader, a Chickasaw chief, whose knowledge of Indian tactics would have been invaluable, losing faith in the success of the whites, abandoned the enterprise with his band of warriors. St. Clair, however, continued his march ; and on the evening of the third of November, halted on one of the tributaries of the Wa- bash. A few Indians were seen, who fled with precipitation. The troops encamped ; the regulars and levies in two lines, covered by the stream ; the militia on the opposite shore, and about a quarter of a mile in advance. Still further in advance was posted Captain Hough with a company of regulars. His orders were to intercept small parties of the enemy, should they venture to approach the camp, and to give intelligence of any occurrences which might transpire. Colonel Oldham, who commanded the Kentucky levies, such as had not deserted, was cautioned to remain on the alert during the night, and to send out patrols of twenty-five or thirty men each, in different directions, before daylight, to scour the adjoining woods. Kennan was with one of these patrols. Just as day was dawn ing he perceived about thirty Indians within one hundred yards of the guard fire, cautiously approaching the spot where he, with about twenty other rangers, stood, the rest of his company being consid erably in the rear. Supposing it to be a mere scouting party, not superior in numbers to the rangers, he sprung forward a few paces to shelter himself in a spot of tall grass, where, after firing with 1G6 WILLIAM KENNAN. 39 quick aim upon the foremost savage, he fell flat upon his face, rap idly reloading his gun, not doubting but what his companions would maintain their position. However, as the battle afterward proved, this, instead of being a scouting-party of savages, was the front rank of their whole body, who had chosen their favorite hour of daybreak for a fierce assault upon the whites, and who now marched forward in such overwhelm ing masses, that the rangers were compelled to fly, leaving Kennan in total ignorance of his danger. Fortunately, the Captain of his company, observing him throw himself in the grass, suddenly ex claimed : " Eun, Kennan ! or you are a dead man !" Instantly springing to his feet, he beheld the Indians within ten feet of him, while his company was more than a hundred yards in front. He had no time for thought ; but the instinct of self-preser vation prompted him to dart away, while the yells of his pursuers seemed absolutely close in his ears. He fancied he could feel their hot breath. At first, he pressed straight toward the usual fording- place in the creek, which was between the savages and the main army. Ten feet behind him ! ay, they were before, and all about him ! Several savages had passed him, as he lay in the grass, with out discovering him ; and these now turned, heading him off from the ford. ' There was but one way possible.for him to reach the camp, which was to dart aside, between his pursuers, and make a long circuijt. He had not succeeded in reloading his rifle ; with a pang of regret, he threw it down, for it encumbered him, in the exertions he was mak ing, and putting every nerve to its utmost strain, he bounded aside and onward. Running like a deer, he soon had the relief of out stripping all his pursuers but one, a young chief, perhaps Messhawa, who displayed a swiftness and perseverance equal to his own. Here was a race worth seeing 1 With long, panther-like bounds, the agile Indian chased the fugitive, who scarcely knew whether he fled on air or earth. The distance between them on the start was about eighteen feet ; the herculean efforts of Kennan could not make it one inch more, nor the equally powerful leaps of the savage make it one inch less. Kennan was at a great disadvantage. He had to 167 40 TALES AND TRADITIONS. watch the pending blow of his adversary, whose tomahawk was poised in the air, ready for the first favorable opportunity to be dis charged at him. This gave him small chance to pick his footsteps with prudence. Growing tired of this contest of skill, in which neither gained, fie ranger, seeing that no other Indian was near enough to interfere, resolved to end the matter by a hand-to-hand conflict. Feeling in his belt for his knife, he found that it was gone. " I'm tellin' the straight out-and-out truth, my friends," Kennan used to remark, when he related this adventure, " when I felt for sartin that knife was lost, my lia'r just lifted my cap off my head- it stood straight up that's a fact I" But if fear lifted his hair up, it lifted his body up, likewise. The thought of his unarmed condition gave him wings, which, verily, he needed, for he had slackened his pace as he felt for his knife, and the tomahawk of his enemy was now almost at his shoulder. For the first time he gained ground a trifle. He had watched the motions of his pursuer so closely, however, as not to pay attention to the nature of the ground, so that he suddenly found himself in front of a large tree, which had been torn up by the winds, and whose dry branches and trunk made an obstacle eight or nine feet high. As he paused before this hindrance, the young chief gave a W,hoop of triumph. " Yell yer throat open, yer blasted red blood-hound !" thought the invincible Kentucky ranger. Putting his soul into the effort, he bounded into the air with a power which astonished himself as much as his pursuers ; trunk, limbs, brush, were cleared he alighted in perfect safety on the other side. A loud yell of amazement burst from the band of savages who witnessed the feat, which not even the young chief, Messbawa, had the hardihood to repeat. Kennan, however^had no leisure to enjoy his triumph. Dashing Into the creek, where its high banks protected him from the fire of the Indians, he ran up the edge of the stream until he came to a convenient crossing-place, when he rejoined the encampment, where he threw hfmself on the ground, exhausted by his exertions. He had little time for re;t. The Indians had begun a furious 168 WILLIAM KENNAN. 41 attack, which raged for three hours, and which resulted in a defeat of the whites still more disastrous than that of Harmar's. In the retreat which followed, Kennan was attached to the bat talion which had the dangerous service of protecting the rear. This corps quickly lost its commander, Major Clarke, and was completely demoralized. Kennan was among the hindmost when the retreat commenced ; but the same powers which had saved him in the morn ing enabled him to gain the front, passing several horsemen in his flight. The retreat of the whole army was in the utmost disorder- The camp, artillery, baggage and wounded were left in the hands of the enemy. Most of the officers, who had fought bravely, were already fallen. St. Clair himself, who had been confined to his tent with the gout, made his escape on a pack-horse, which he could neither mount nor dismount without assistance. The flying troops made their way back to Fort Jefferson. Under such circumstances, it may be im agined that the line of flight was a scene of fearful disorder. The Indians, making matters more appalling by their yells of triumph, pursued the routed foe. Giving up all efforts to protect the rear, the battalion to which Keimaii belonged fled as it could, every man for himself. It was here, as he was making good his own retreat, that our hero came across a private in his own company, an intimate friend, lying upon the ground with his thigh broken, who, in tones of pierc ing distress, implored each horseman to take him up. When he be held Kennan coming up on foot he stretched out his hands entreat- ingly. Notwithstanding the imminent peril, his friend could not withstand this passionate appeal ; he lifted him upon his back, and ran in that manner several hundred yards. The enemy gained upon them so fast that Keunan saw the death of both was certain unless he relinquished his burden. He told his friend that he had done all he could for him, but that it was in vain. He could not save him, and unless he wished both to perish, to let go his clasp about his neck. The unhappy man only clung the more tenaciously ; Keunan staggered on under his burden, until the foremost of the enemy were within twenty yards of him then, yielding to a cruel necessity, he drew his knife form its sheath and 169 42 TALES AND TRADITIONS. severed the fingers of the wounded man, who fell to the ground, and was tomahawked three minutes after. But if unsuccessful in the attempt to save this fated fellow-soldier, he had the pleasure, before the race was over, of saving the life of one who afterward became his warm and helpful friend. Darting forward with renewed swiftness, after cutting his burden from him, he was again out of immediate danger, when he came across a young man, sitting upon a log, calmly awaiting the ap proach of his enemies. He was deadly pale, but his refined and handsome face wore not the least expression of fear. " Don't you know the red-skins are upon us ?" called out the ranger. "I know it; but I can not help it. I have never been strong, and now I am wounded. I could . not take another step to save my life. Go on don't stop to pity me." Kennan was too brave himself not to admire the calm courage of this young man. He looked about. A short distance off he saw an exhausted horse, refreshing himself upon the luxuriant grass. Running after the animal, he caught him without difficulty, brought him up, assisted the wounded stranger to mount, and ran by his side until they were out of danger. Fortunately the pursuit ceased about that time, the spoils of the camp offering attractions to the savages more irresistible even than the blood of the remaining whites. The stranger thus saved by Kennan was Madison, afterward Governor of Kentucky, who continued through life the friendship formed that day. Kennan never entirely recovered from the superhuman exertions he was compelled to make on that disastrous day. Of this melancholy campaign of St. Glair's, Hall, in his sketches of the West, says : " The fault was not in the leader, but in the plan of the expedition, and the kind of troops employed. All that an old commander,, could effect with such a force, under the circum stances by which he was surrounded and overruled, was accomplished by General St. Glair. The brilliant talents of this brave soldier and veteran patriot were exerted in vain in the wilderness. The wari ness and perseverance of Indian warfare created every day new obstacles and unforeseen dangers ; the skill of the experienced leader 170 WILLIAM KEN A AN. 43 was baffled, and undisciplined force prevailed over military science. The art of the tactician proved insufficient when opposed to a count less multitude of wily savages, protected by the labyrinths of the forest and aided by the terrors of the climate. At a moment of fancied security his troops Avere assailed upon all sides by a numerous and well-organized foe, who had long been hanging on his flanks, and had become acquainted Avith his strength, his order of encamp ment, and the distribution of his force Avho knew when to attack and where to strike." The loss on this occasion Avas mournfully great ; thirty-eight offi cers and eight hundred men were slain. Hall further says : " In reference to all these (Indian) Avars, it has never been sufficiently urged, that they were but a continuation, and a protracted sequel to the War. of Independence. For years after the United States had been acknowledged as a nation, Great Britain continued to hold a number of military posts within her North - Avestern limits, and to urge a destructive warfare through her savage allies. It was against Britain that St. Clair, Harmar, Wayne and Harrison fought ; and they, with others, who bled in those Western wilds, contributed as much to the purchase of our independence, as those who fought for our birthright at an earlier period." Oh, mother-country ; how very like the worst personification of a stepmother thou hast ever been, and still art, to this fairest of thy children. The Indians are remarkable for fleetness of foot and endurance. Trained from childhood to the forest and chase, to run without tiring is one of their most esteemed virtues. They have been known fre quently to run down the deer. We have seen them, on the western plains, exhaust the horse in the contest for strength of " wind." One savage of the Osages used to run from one village to another, a distance of fifteen miles, in one hundred minutes, for a swallow of " fire-Avater," and his squaw once performed the feat in the space of two hours, for the price of three yards of red ribbon. The stories IIOAV related of Ellerson and Kennan prove that, in speed and endur ance, the white man sometimes excels even the savages. We shall, in the course of these pages, have occasion to mention other instances of running for life. 171 44 TALES AND TRADITIOKS, MOLLY PITCHER AT MONMOUTH. THE battle of Monmouth was one of the most severely contested engagements of the Revolution. From the rising to the setting sun, on that sultry Sabbath in June, two armies strove for the mastery of that ensanguined field, until heaps of dead and dying strewed the plain, marking the path of the serried ranks as the ebb and flow of battle changed their relative positions. Both armies fought with a desperate determination to conquer, and instances of personal bravery and daring were innumerable ; yet, when night drew her sable mantle over the earth, shrouding from sight the soul-sickening scene, neither party could claim the meed of victory. Of the many thrilling incidents of that eventful day, that which brought into conspicuous notice the heroine of our story was not the least interesting. Molly Pitcher, or, as she was afterward more familiarly known, Captain Molly, was a sturdy young Irish woman of some twenty-two or twenty-three years of age, short, thick-set, with red hair, a freckled face, and a keen, piercing eye, which gave token of a spirit of mis chief ever ready for a frolic or a fight. She was the wife of a Sergeant in an artillery corps, which had seen service since the commencement of the war, and was attached to him with all the warmth of the Irish disposition. She had followed him through all his campaigns, and was with him at Fort Clinton, in the Hudson highlands, when that post was attacked and captured by Sir Henry Clinton. Here, too, she gave a specimen of that reckless courage which distinguished her at Monmouth some nine mouths after. Her husband, who was in the act of touching off his piece, seeing the British scaling the walls, and getting in his rear, dropped his match, and calling to Molly to follow, fled as fast as his legs would carry him. She, determined not to waste powder and ball, and knowing that her "petticoats" would protect her retreat in a measure, picked up the linstock, fired the piece, and then scampered off. She 172 MOLLY PITCHER AT MONMOUTH. 45 escaped scot-free, and when the scattered fugitives from the forts were collected, and the artillery was attached to the main army, she accompanied her husband as a sutler, and was with him through that bitter winter at Valley Forge. When Sir Henry Clinton evacuated Philadelphia, and took up his march across the Jerseys, Washington left his winter camp and pre pared to follow, hoping to get an opportunity to strike a blow which should animate his own troops and effectually cripple, perhaps cap ture, the British army. On the plains of Monmouth the hostile armies met in battle array. Of the details of the action it is not our province to speak. It will suffice our purpose to sny that Lee had been ordered to attack the British on their first movement, and engage them until the main army of the Americans could be brought into action by Washington in person. The first part of his orders he had obeyed ; the latter, for reasons never fully explained, he did not conform to, but retreated unexpectedly toward the main body, which movement was timely checked by Washington, who ordered the whole army into action. It became necessary, however, for a portion to fall back a second time ; and to check the pursuit, the ar tillery, to which Molly's husband was attached, was stationed on an eminence,-in the rear of a hedge-row, for that purpose. Molly her self was engaged in bringing water from a spring to assuage the thirst of the men at the guns, when she saw her husband struck down by a cannon-shot from the enemy, which cut him nearly in two, killing him instantly ; at the same time she heard the comman dant order the piece withdrawn, as he had no one to fill the place now vacant. Molly heard the order, and maddened by her loss, rushed forward, exclaiming as she did so : " No ! you shan't remove the gun, neither. Sh ure, can't I ram it as well as Tom, there? Ah ! it's kilt entirely he is, bad luck to the bloody vagabond th; t p'inted the gun that shot him. Sorra a day was it when ye 'listed, darlint, to leave me a lone widdy now, with nary a soul to care wliether I live or die. But I'll pay the dirty vagabonds for this day's work, cuss 'em." And thus alternately apostrophizing her husband and anathematizing the British, she continued to ram the gun until it was withdrawn. The activity and courage which she exhibited attracted the attention of all who witnessed it, and on the 173 46 TALTC3 AND TRADITIONS. morning after the battle the circumstance was reported to General Greene, who was so much pleased at her bravery and spirit that he sent for her and determined to present her to the Commander-in- Chief. This he did, covered with dirt and blood as she was, and Washington, after questioning her, conferred on her a warrant as Sergeant, and subsequently, by his influence, her name was placed on the list of half-pay officers for life. She went ever after by the name of " Captain Molly" and the French officers, particularly, took a great deal of notice of her, and made her many presents. She dressed in a mongrel suit, composed of a cocked hat, soldier's coat with an epaulette on one shoulder, and petticoats. In this rig she would pass along the French lines any clay and get her hat filled with crowns. Molly Pitcher's bravery was not, perhaps, of the highest order, being a part of the natural recklessness of her character ; but there were women, plenty of them, in the time of our country's peril, and dur ing the still more dreadful dangers of the new country, who proved their heroism to be of the noblest sort. Not only the heroism of endurance, in which women always excel the endurance of fear, privation, loneliness and grief but the heroism of action. Of such metal was the deed of prowess which has immortalized the name of Elizabeth Zane. In 1777, Fort Henry, in Ohio county, Virginia, was attacked by Indians. The defence was made with vigor, until the ammunition became exhausted, when surrender seemed the only alternative a fearful alternative, in view of the treacherous charac ter of their enemies. There was a keg of powder in a house about twelve rods distant, to obtain which would prolong the defense, and perhaps preserve the lives of the whole garrison. It was resolved that one person should venture out, and, if possible, secure and bear into the fort the valued prize. The Indians having retired a little distance, a favorable opportunity was afforded ; but it became diffi cult to decide who should undertake the service, as many soldiers were emulous for the honor of executing the perilous enterprise. Their contention was cut short by Miss Zane, who claimed to be chosen for performing the duty, upon the ground that the life of a soldier was more valuable to be employed in defending the fort, and also that her sex might save her errand iVuui suspicion and thus 174 ELIZABETH ZANE. 47 secure its success. It was the latter plea, which was somewhat plausible, united to her resolution, which overcame the scruples of the officer in command, far enough to permit her to make the attempt. Her sex migJit protect her ! Ah ! no one better than the girl her self knew how very slender was that " migh t" for an instant her heart stood still in her bosom, as the gate of the fort opened a little and closed behind her, shutting her out in the very shadow of the valley of death ! For one instant her eyes grew dark and her ears rung, and in her bosom she felt, by apprehension, the piercing anguish of a dozen bullets ; but, as quickly, she rallied, and with a light, fleet foot passed on to the house, not running, for fear of calling down the suspicions of tho murderous eyes which watched her every movement. The Indians observed her leave the fort, but, as she had hoped, did not at first comprehend her actions, allowing her to pass on to the building, without molesting her, probably absorbed in a momentary wonder at her sex and her audacity. She reached the house, seized the powder, and hastened to return. By this time the savages had recovered from the spell which the first sight of the young heroine had thrown upon them ; they saw the keg of powder in her arms, and with yells of anger, fired a vol ley after her as she ran rapidly toward the fort. Fortunately, not a bullet touched her. As they rattled about her, singing past her ears, they only gave activity to her movements. In another moment she was safe within the gate, to the unbounded joy of the garrison. Animated by so noble an example, the men fought with a vigor which the enemy could not overcome, who were compelled to raise the siege. The following anecdote, which is too well authenticated to be dis puted, furnishes one instance, among thousands, of that heroic spirit which animated the American women during the struggle for Inde pendence. In 1775, a good lady lived on the seaboard, about a day's march from Boston, where the British then were. By some unaccountable mistake, a runior was spread, in town and country, in and about her residence, that the regulars were on a march for that place, where they would arrive in about three hours. This was after the battle 175 48 . TALES AND TRADITIONS. of Lexington, and all, as might be supposed, was in sad confusion ; some were boiling with rage and full of light ; some in fear and tribulation were hiding their treasures : others flying for life. In this wild moment, when most people, in one way or another, were frightened from propriety, our heroine, who had two sons, aged re spectively nineteen and sixteen, was seen preparing them to dis charge their duty in the emergency. The eldest she was enabled to- equip in fine style ; she took her husband's fowling-piece, " made for duck or plover," (the good man being absent on a coasting voyage to Virginia,) and with it, the powder-horn and shot-bag. But the lad, thinking the duck and geese-shot not quite the size to kill regu lars, his mother, with the chisel, cut up her pewter spoons, ham mered them into slugs, put them into his bag, and he set off in great earnest, calling a moment, on the way, to see the parson, who said : " Well done, my brave boy. God preserve you !" The youngest was importunate for hi* equipments, but his mother could find nothing to arm him with but an old rusty sword. The boy seemed unwilling to risk himself with this alone, linger ing in the street until his mother thus upbraided him : " You, John H , what will your fathei^say, if he hears that a child of his is afraid to meet the British ? Go along ; beg or borrow a gun, or you'll find one, child; some coward, I dare say, will be running away ; then take his gun and march forward ! If you ccme back, and I hear you have not behaved like a man, I shall carry the blush of shame on my face to the grave." She then shut the door, wiped the tear from her eye, and abided the issue. There were not wanting American ladies whose wit and courage could bring the blush of shame or anger to the haughtj r faces of the British officers. There is scarcely a more stinging retort on record than that which was given to the insolent Tarleton by a lady at Wash ington, before whom he was boasting his feats of gallantry. Said he : " I have a very earnest desire to see your far-famed hero, Colonel Washington." " Your wish, Colonel, might have been fully gratified," she promptly replied,