FLAG DAY.
Hats off! This is The Flag's birthday. The banner of blue, crimson and white, is one hundred and thirty-six years old, 1913. Honor the colors today. The flag represents more than just stars and stripes. It represents the history of the Great Republic from its cradle to this very moment:
Fought to make and save the State;
Weary marches and sinking ships,
Cheers of victory on dying lips.
To ward her people from foreign wrong.
Pride and glory and honor all
Live in the colors, to stand or fall."
Throughout the country the D. A. R.'s are celebrating this great anniversary of our flag. Honor the flag. It belongs to every American citizen, whether we live under Northern or Southern skies, whether the American spirit is enthroned over civilization struggles with its problems upon the shores of the Pacific, or turns to problems as grave on this side.
And we are conquering the world under the emblem of Old Glory. The world turns to us as the maker of Peace, the mightiest since civilization's dawning, for genuine rule—those "common people," of whom Lincoln said, "The Lord must love them, he made so many."
The first flag hoisted on American soil about which we have any authentic record, was that seen by the earliest voyagers to our coasts. They found that the North American Indians carried a pole covered with wing feathers of the eagle as a standard.
Columbus, when he landed, October 12th, 1492, on the island of San Salvador, unfurled upon the shores of the new world the first European banners. The son of Columbus records that his father, dressed in scarlet, came ashore with the royal standard of Isabella emblazoned with the arms of Castile and Leon. He planted this standard together with its companion, a white flag with a green cross, on this small island. In the pictures of the ships of the time of Columbus these flags may be seen streaming from the ship's mast.
In 1499, the Eastern coast of South America was explored by the Florentine, Americus Vespucius. About the same time the Cabots planted the banners of England and of St. Mark of Venice on the North American shores.
The Red Cross of St. George was first raised on American shores at Jamestown, Virginia, in May 1607 and when the Pilgrims landed on Plymouth Rock in 1620 there floated from the mast of the Mayflower also the red cross of St. George. Our Pacific coast had been visited in the preceding century by Francis Drake, in his voyage around the world. Into the New York Harbor sailed Hudson with the Dutch flag, a tri-color, orange, white and blue. This banner, with the letters W. I. C., floated over Manhattan Island, proclaiming the rights of the Dutch West India Company. About the same time the Swedes floated their royal banner in the sunlight on the banks of the Delaware. This colony from the frozen north of Europe was so charmed with our country that to Cape Horn they gave the name of Paradise Point, and called their little settlement Christiana, after their far-away Queen.
During the period of our history known as Colonial and Provincial, the English flag was used from Maine to Georgia, with various devices and mottoes. Some flags were all red, with horizontal stripes, or red and blue stripes. Others were red, blue, white or yellow. The flags so frequently mentioned in the newspapers of 1774, were the ordinary English ensigns, bearing the Union Jack. These almost always bore a patriotic motto like "Liberty," "Liberty and Property," and "Liberty and Union."
So I could go on and dwell on the different flags, but I must hurry to our own, our native flag.
It is not generally known, and comes as a surprise to many, that the stars and stripes is one of the oldest National flags in existence, France being next; and England's present flag was not adopted until 1801.
The anniversary of the adoption of the Stars and Stripes by the Continental Congress, June 14th, 1777, should be observed by every American citizen.
In the year 1775, Congress appointed a Committee, of which Franklin was chairman, to consider and devise a national flag. This resulted in the adoption of the "King's colors," so called, as a union or corner stone, while thirteen stripes of alternate red and white stood as at present. This flag was publicly accepted, recognized and saluted at Washington's headquarters in Cambridge, Mass., January 2, 1776, from which fact it was often called the "Cambridge Flag," though sometimes the "Flag of the Union."
After the Declaration of Independence this flag lost its point, as nobody except the Tories wanted to see "King's colors." So in the Spring of 1777, Congress appointed another committee to design another suitable flag. George Washington and Robert Morris were members of the committee. So Washington and Robert Morris called upon Mrs. Elizabeth Ross, 239 Arch Street, Philadelphia, and from a pencil drawing of General Washington's, Mrs. Ross made the first flag. She suggested six pointed stars instead of five as Washington suggested and sketched. He accepted her suggestion, and so the flag was made.
Most interesting is the fact that the making of the American flag is largely woman's work. That the manufacture of flags has grown to be a large industry is proven by the fact that every year enough flags, great and small, are made to give one to every man, woman and child in the United States. Betsy Ross made flags for the government for many years; after her death, in 1836, her daughter, Mrs. Clarissa Wilson, succeeded to the business. Miss Sarah Wilson, great granddaughter of Betsy Ross, still makes duplicates of the original flag.
The great battle ships that are steaming around the world, flying our flag under circumstances that have made the nation assume a new importance in the eyes of millions who never before knew much about us, have the proper flag. It would never do for the American Government to fly an incorrect American Flag. It is a huge task to replace all the banners used. These are the facts, that keep busy hands at work, guiding the electrically driven sewing machines that take 3600 stitches a minute. Even though the machine that cuts the stars for the silk and wool bunting flags can create three thousand an hour, its operators have plenty to do. The stripes are cut from great rolls of colored bunting or silk, sometimes by skilled operatives, and again by machinery. The unions are cut in the same way. The stars are first pinned on the unions, and then sewed by machinery. That is, so far as the bunting flags are concerned. The silk flags are wholly hand work, even to the cutting out of the stars. The latter are embroidered on the blue field and then all the extra cloth is deftly scissored away.
The major number of small flags is printed. This is accomplished by the aid of the engraver and presses something like those on which newspapers are printed. Even in this mechanical work, women are found to be more serviceable than men. It always has been their field, and seems likely to so remain. There has been almost as much of an evolutionary process in the manufacture, as in the arrangement of the American flag.
On the same day that Congress adopted the stars and stripes, John Paul Jones received command of the Ranger, in Portsmouth. He immediately displayed the new flag at the main top, probably being the first person to hoist these colors over a United States warship. Jones is said to have remarked, pointing to the flag, "That flag and I are twins; we cannot part in life or in death. So long as we will float, we will float together; if we must sink, we shall go down as one."
The first recognition of our flag was by the flag of France. The first display over military forces took place on August 2, 1777, at Fort Stanwix, afterward Schuyler, New York. The fort was besieged by the British; its garrison had no colors, so they manufactured a standard of the approved pattern. They cut up their shirts as white material; for stars and stripes, an officer's coat supplied the blue; and small sections of red flannel undergarments furnished the third color. It is said that the flag thus pieced together was greeted with great enthusiasm and warmly defended.
The following September the stars and stripes were first displayed in battle at Brandywine. They first waved over a captured port at Nassau in the succeeding January. It was first borne around the world by Capt. John Kendrick, of the Ship Columbia, sailing from Boston in 1787. It had first been displayed in China, three years before, by Captain John Green, of the Empress. When the first ship appeared flying the Stars and Stripes, the new flag excited much interest and curiosity among the people of Canton. A strange new ship had arrived in port, they said, bearing a flag as beautiful as a flower, and everybody wanted to see the flower-flag ship. By this name of Flower-Flag the Chinese continued for many years to speak of our ensign, and its poetic beauty has often appealed to our own people. The sobriquet which appeals most strongly to the nation as a whole seems to be that of "Old Glory." Captain Stephen Driver was the first man to christen our flag "Old Glory." He was born at Salem, Mass., March 17, 1803. Just before he sailed on the brig Charles Doggett, in the year 1831, he was presented with a large American flag. As it was hoisted he called it "Old Glory" and this was the name he evermore used for it. This flag was always with the Captain on the sea and when he retired, he carried it home with him to Nashville, Tenn. His fondness for his flag was widely known, as also his being a Union man. During the late unpleasantness his neighbors desired to get hold of this particular flag but they searched his house and all in vain. The Captain had made a comforter out of it, having quilted the Old Glory with his own hands. He made his comforter his bed fellow. When peace was restored, he took the flag to the Capitol Building in Nashville. As he saw it on top of the building he exclaimed, "Now that Old Glory is up there, gentlemen, I am ready to die." He died in Nashville in 1886.
The original flag made by Betsy Ross remained unchanged until 1795. At this time, two new states had been added to the Union, Vermont and Kentucky, and it became evident some recognition of these States should appear upon the flag. Accordingly the number of stars was changed from thirteen to fifteen, though much opposition was shown to this change.
For twenty-three years the flag of thirteen stripes was the national standard. Under this banner, the United States fought and won three wars to maintain her existence. They were the wars with France in 1799, with the Barbary States in 1801, and with England in 1812. This was the "Star Spangled Banner" in honor of which Francis Scott Key composed our national song. A large national flag is kept floating over the grave of Francis Scott Key and is never taken down except to be replaced by a new one. This was the flag under which the good ship Constitution sailed.
In the year 1818, the number of States had increased to twenty, and five were in no way represented in the flag. Congress finally decided to have thirteen stripes, and a provision that for every State added to the Union a new star should appear in the galaxy upon the blue field, and that this star should appear upon the Fourth of July next following the admission of the new State. By this happy arrangement, the flag typifies at once the country as it was when first it became independent and as it is today. There is no law as to the method of arrangement for the stars, but the Army and Navy regulated this to suit themselves.
We think of ourselves as a new country, yet oddly enough our flag is one of the oldest in the world today. That of Denmark is the oldest European standard, dating back to 1219. Next is the Swiss flag, which was adopted in the seventeenth century.
In 1911, to the Army of the United States there were furnished 1207 storm and recruiting flags, 342 post flags, 31 garrison flags; the year previous, 1076 storm and 355 post flags. These sewed together would nearly, if not entirely, reach around the United States. Each battle ship of the American Navy is entitled to 250 flags every three years, though many are renewed oftener than this. The cost of the flags for each battle ship is about twenty-five hundred dollars, nothing small in this bill of Uncle Sam's for equipment, especially when you remember he has twenty-seven first and second class battleships in commission, to say nothing of the cruisers, torpedo boats, torpedo boat destroyers, submarine monitors, gun boats, supply ships, training and receiving ships, about seventy in all.
For the naval flags the United States uses up about forty-three thousand dollars worth of material every year; pays seventeen thousand dollars for wages, and produces an average of about sixty thousand flags of four hundred and eight different patterns. The material of which the flag is made must stand severe tests, for there are storms to be weathered and a sixty mile gale can whip average cloth to tatters. A strip of bunting two inches wide must have a strength of sixty-five pounds when proved on the testing machine. Two inches of filling must stand forty-five pounds. The bunting is American made and all wool and nineteen inches wide. It is washed for twenty-four hours in soap and fresh water and next day given a like treatment with salt water. Then for ten days it is exposed to the weather, thirty hours of sunshine being stipulated. The largest United States flag, 36 x 19, costs the government only forty dollars.
There is a statute law which prohibits the use of our flag for advertising purposes or decorating.
Where better can you realize the beauty of the American flag, and that which it represents, than when you see it flying over school houses or play grounds? The respect paid by the school children to the flag by rising and standing and with right hand raised to a line with their forehead while they pledge allegiance to their flag is most appropriate, but the pledge that appeals to me most is that for the children of the primary schools, which is, "I give my head and my heart to God and my country, one language and one flag."
When you see the hands of ten, nay, twenty, nationalities raised, while foreign tones mingle with those of our children expressing allegiance to one flag, where better can you realize the beauty of "Old Glory?" And though your word, your flag, your tiny nosegay may fall into the hands of just a
Where the windy panes are sooty and the roofs are tumble down;
Where the snow falls back in winter, and the melting, sultry heat,
Comes like pestilence in the summer through the narrow dirty street,"
you are giving into his hands the flag you would have him love, and in later years honor and defend.
The Sons of the Revolution print these regulations:
"The flag should not be hoisted before sunrise, nor allowed to remain up after sunset.
"At sunset spectators should stand at attention and uncover during the playing of 'Star Spangled Banner.' Military men are required to do so by regulation.
"When the national colors are passing on parade, or in review, the spectator should, if walking, halt; if sitting, arise and stand at attention, and uncover.
"In placing the flag at half staff, it should first be hoisted to the top of the staff and then lowered to position, and preliminary to lowering from half staff it should be first raised to the top."
There is one general rule for the care of the flag which should always be remembered. "Treat the flag of your country with respect—this is the fundamental idea. Whatever is disrespectful is forbidden in dealing with symbols of national existence. Do not let it be torn; if it should become snagged or torn accidentally, mend it at once. Do not let the flag be used in any way dishonorable."
I once heard of a flag used to cover the floor of a stage when an officer of the navy present took up the flag, saying: "I will never allow anyone to stand on the flag while I am present."
The national flag is raised on school buildings on all national or state holidays and on anniversaries of memorable events in our country's history. Most all schools now know the Star Spangled Banner and when it is brought forward every pupil rises and gives a military salute and distinctly repeats: "I pledge allegiance to my flag and to the Republic for which it stands, one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice to all."
The eye of the home-comer catches sight of the large American flag which floats from a steel pole 300 feet high at Mt. Claire, New Jersey, before even he sees the Statue of Liberty.
Here's our love to your streaming stripes and your stars in a field of blue;
Native or foreign, we're children all of the land over which you fly,
And native or foreign, we love the land for which it were sweet to die.
On June 14, 1777, in old Independence Hall, Philadelphia, Congress adopted the following resolution:
Resolved, That the flag of the thirteen United States be thirteen stripes, alternate red and white; that the union be thirteen stars, white in a blue field, representing a new constellation, the stars to be arranged in a circle.
It was thirty-seven years before the Song to Immortality, the name of our Star Spangled Banner, was written.
END OF THE REVOLUTION.
By Rev. Thomas B. Gregory.
The last battle of the Revolutionary war was fought at Blue Lick, Kentucky, August 20, 1782.
England died hard, and in ways that were far from being in strict keeping with international law tried to postpone the final surrender as long as she could. It was in consequence of such tactics that the battle of Blue Lick was fought.
On the 16th of August, 1782, a force of several hundred Canadians and Wyandotte Indians laid siege to Bryan's Station, some five miles from the present city of Lexington, the capital of the famous Blue Grass region.
The next day a party of 180 frontiersmen, commanded by Daniel Boone, John Todd and Stephen Trigg, hastened to the rescue, notwithstanding the fact that they were greatly outnumbered by the enemy.
Upon reaching the near neighborhood of the station a council of war was held to determine upon the line of attack. Boone's advice was to march silently up the river and fall upon the rear of the enemy, while, at the same time, the main attack should be delivered in front.
Unfortunately, this sensible advice was spoiled by the rash action of a major named McGray, who dashed his horse into the river, shouting: "Let all who are not cowards follow me." Of course, McGray's action was madness, but it was a madness that became instantly contagious, and soon most of the men were fording the stream hard after the rash major.
Crossing without molestation they reached the top of the ridge, when their troubles began in dead earnest. From front and flanks they received a deadly fire from the Indians and their Canadian allies. They had been ambushed, and the invisible foe shot them down like dogs.
Outnumbered three to one, and presently quite surrounded, they fought like the brave men they were until they realized that to remain longer was to be annihilated, whereupon they broke through the fiery cordon and escaped as best they could.
Sixty-seven Kentuckians were killed outright and many of the wounded were afterward massacred. The loss of the Canadians and Wyandottes was never known, as they carried away their killed and wounded.
But the redmen made no more trouble for Kentucky. The treaty of peace deprived them of their British backing, and the United States was left to deal with them after its own way. The memory of the brave fight that was put up by the handful of frontiersmen lingered with them, and, with no hope of help from England, they gave the Kentuckians a grand letting alone.
Such, in brief, is the story of the last battle of the war of the Revolution. Beginning away up in Massachusetts, the great struggle ended at Blue Lick, Kentucky, a region that was an unknown wilderness when the struggle began.
COUNTIES OF GEORGIA BEARING INDIAN NAMES.
Seven of the counties in Georgia have been named to perpetuate the memory of the first American, the Indian. Of peculiar interest is the derivation and meaning of the names of these counties.
Catoosa: Gatusi in Cherokee language and means "mountain."
Chattahoochee: (Creek: Chatu "rock" hutchas "mark," "design": "pictured rocks"). A former Lower Creek town on the upper waters of Chattahoochee River to which it gave its name; seemingly in the present Harris County, Georgia. So called from some pictured rocks at that point.
Chatooga: (Also Chatuga, a corruption of the Cherokee Tsatugi, possibly meaning "he drank by sips," or "he has crossed the stream and come out on the other side," but more likely of foreign origin).
Cherokee: The tribal name is a corruption of Tsalagi or Tsaragi, the name by which they commonly called themselves, and which may be derived from the Choctaw Chilukki, "cave people," in allusion to the numerous caves in their mountain country.
Coweta: (Kawita). The name of the leading tribe among the Lower Creeks, whose home was at one time on the Ocmulgee, and later on the western side of Chattahoochee below the falls. According to one old Creek tradition the name means "those who follow us," and was given them by the Kasihta Indians, another Creek tribe who traditionally marched in advance when the Creeks invaded Alabama and Georgia.
Muscogee: (Muscogee, properly Maskoki) meaning unknown. Its derivation has been attributed to an Algonquian term signifying "swamp" or "open marshy land." Muscogee is the name by which the dominant tribe of the Creek confedracy knows itself and is known to other tribes.
Oconee: Was the name of a tribe which anciently lived on Oconee River, but subsequently moved first to the east bank of the Chattahoochee and later to Florida where it found a nucleus of the people later known as Seminoles. Oconee, their chief town, was situated, according to Hawkins, about four miles below Milledgeville. Weekachumpa, their chief, known to the English as Long King, and one of his warriors were among the Indians assembled to welcome Oglethorpe when he arrived in Georgia in 1732.—Compiled by Mrs. J. S. Lowrey.
STORY OF EARLY INDIAN DAYS.
A pretty story of early times in America is that of the restoration of a little girl to her parents by the Indians. It is quoted from Currey's "Story of Old Fort Dearborn," by the New York Post. The child, who was nine years old at the time of her capture in western Pennsylvania, was well treated, came to regard the chief and his mother with love and reverence, learned their language and customs, and almost forgot her own. At the end of four years, this chief was invited by a colonel who was very popular with the red men to bring the girl to a council fire at Ft. Niagara. He accepted the invitation upon condition that there should be no effort to reclaim the child. When the boat in which the chief and his captive had crossed the Niagara River touched the bank, the girl sprang into the arms of her waiting mother. The chief was deeply moved. "She shall go," he said. "The mother must have her child again. I will go back alone." In the words of her daughter-in-law, who wrote of this period many years afterward:
"With one silent gesture of farewell he turned and stepped on board the boat. No arguments or entreaties could induce him to remain at the council; but having gained the other side of the Niagara, he mounted his horse, and with his young men was soon lost in the depths of the sheltered forests."
The girl became the wife of John Kinzie, "Chicago's pioneer."
CHIEF VANN HOUSE.
At the foot of one of the highest peaks of Cohuttah Mountains in North Georgia, there stood, one late autumn day, an Indian girl, the daughter of a Cherokee Chief, and her half-breed lover.
As they talked she told him how the young men of her tribe hated him and how they taunted her about her pale faced lover, and told her he would be cruel and false to her. The old chiefs had told her of the great white chief, DeSoto, who had built the fort on this very mountain where they stood, when he rested in his journey from the Indian village, Chiaha (the place where the city of Rome, Ga., now stands). They told her how cruelly his followers had treated her people, tearing down their wigwams, desecrating their graves, in their search for Tau-lan-neca (yellow money) and they warned her that he belonged to that same cruel race.
He answered her, his heart swelling with love for his father's people, that they were not false and cruel but kind and good. He told her of his recent trip to Washington where he had gone as interpreter for their great Chief, Ridge, who loved the white people. He said they had seen the great white father and he had talked kindly to them and had advised them to sell their lands to the white people who would pay them well for it and would give them lands just as beautiful in the far west, which would be theirs as long as "grass grew and water ran."
He told her that if her people should be guided by Chief Ridge, and go to this far away land, he, too, would go with them and try to make her happy among her own people. If they did not go he would stay among them and build her a house like the white people lived in, a house good and strong that would last as long as their love, which would be forever. (It seems a prophecy for it is still standing).
He kept his promise to her and the house he dreamed of was built. What a marvelous thing it was to those savage people to watch the building of this house, with its carved mantels that reach to the ceiling, and the wonderful spiral stairway that excites the admiration of the skilled workmen of today and the hinges of the doors of beaten brass.
This palefaced lover little dreamed of what the future held in store, that he (David Vann) should become a chief of his Nation and go again to Washington with Chief Ridge and bring back to their tribe the purchase money for their lands, how dissensions had arisen among them in regard to the division of the money, how he buried the money near his home and how the wife that loved him begged him not to tell her where he buried it for fear the Indians would come and torture her and make her tell where it was buried.
Little did he dream that he and Chief Ridge would be basely murdered by the Indians.
This house has never been known by any other name but the Chief Vann house. It is impossible to find out the exact time it was built, as there were no white people living here at that time. White, in his Georgia Statistics, says that when the Moravian Mission was started in Spring Place that Chief Vann gave them the land for their buildings near his house and sent his children to their school. That was in 1802, so the house had been built before that date.
Judge George Glenn in a published article has told of Chief Vann's later life, his marriage to an Indian princess, his visits to Washington, his receiving and burying the gold, and his murder by the Indians, all of which is authentic.
The material for the house was said to have been carried on the backs of Indian ponies from Savannah, Ga., but other accounts say that Chief Vann taught the Indians to make and burn the brick there.
Thus ends the romance, mingled truth, and tradition, but the house in fairly good repair is still standing in Spring Place, Ga., today. This little town was the only place of any size at that time. In the jail at this place John Howard Payne was imprisoned, accused of being a spy. The jail is still standing.—Mrs. Warren Davis, Historian, John Milledge Chapter, D. A. R., Dalton, Ga.
INDIAN TALE.
"Grandfather, tell me about the Indians," said little Annie Daniel, as she climbed upon the arm of a large rocking chair in which Mr. Abel Daniel was sitting, dreaming of the past with its many varied experiences. The person thus addressed had even now reached his fourscore years and ten, yet his mind was keenly alert, his carriage erect and his immaculate dress revealed the "Gentlemen of the old school." Washington County, Georgia, was proud to claim so distinguished a son, so valiant a hero and such a cultured gentleman. Capt. Daniel had survived three noted wars; the "War of 1812," the Indian and the Mexican, in all of which he had been a true soldier and had won honor for his home and native state. His gallant service in the wars with the British and the Mexicans interested the grown people. How he helped General Gaines and his men capture the little village in Clay County on the banks of the Chattahoochee, which is now called Fort Gaines and drive the Indians back into Florida, always delighted the young boys and his lullabies sung in the Indian language pleased little Annie, but tonight she begged for a real Indian story.
"Well, dear, I shall tell you of one which relates to my own life and is really a great part of it," said grandfather. "After helping to expel the Indians from our borders, I decided to go live with them for a time in order to learn their crafts and become better acquainted with a people whom I believed to be honest and loyal."
"Having crossed the border and tied my handkerchief to a leafy branch and waived it aloft as a flag of truce, they quickly responded and gave me a most cordial welcome. During the seven years of my stay with them, I was known as the 'White Man' and treated as some superior being. The best of all they possessed was at my command and they counted nothing too dear that would add to my pleasure. I was made a sharer in all their hunting and fishing sports, having been presented with one of their very best ponies.
"All went well until one day I discovered that the Chief was plotting a marriage between me and his beautiful daughter. As a marriage dowry he would present us with several barrels of specie, thus showing in what esteem he held me. I could never think of marrying this Indian maiden so I at once began to plan my escape. The next day I rode my pony as far as possible, taking my gun along as a pretense of hunting, but returned the following day with my game. After letting my pony rest a day I started out a second time to test her strength still further. This time I stayed two days and two nights and decided my pony was equal to any undertaking. After a second rest we started out the third time and made a safe flight across the line to my own people.
"Before reaching the old homestead a neighbor had informed me of my father's death and my mother's total blindness. The dear old soul was seated on the porch as I rode up; near her was a water bucket over which was hanging a long handled gourd. Just as her feeble hands reached out for the gourd, I handed it to her, saying; 'Here it is, mother.' She recognized my voice as that of her baby boy and fainted away. From that day I never left my aged mother, but tried to make amends for the sorrow my wanderings must have caused, by attending to her every want and making her last days as comfortable, happy and free from care as ever a loving child could.
"My Indian pony was treasured as a relic of the years spent with the Indians and my fortunate escape from the hand of his daughter.
"But my little girl is getting sleepy, so kiss grandfather good night, and he'll tell you more another time."—Mrs. Annie (Daniel) Clifton, Stone Castle Chapter, D. A. R.
WILLIAM WHITE AND DANIEL BOONE.
In 1750, William White and Daniel Boone settled at what is now known as Bull Bradley Springs in Tennessee. The Indian trail from the Hiwassee town Northward, passed near this home.
One evening, two of the boys, aged ten and twelve, went out into the forest to cut and prepare wood for the night. When darkness came on and the boys did not return, a search was made and their axe was found leaning against a small hickory tree which the boys must have been cutting down when they stopped their work. Signs of Indians were discovered. These were followed next morning and were found to lead into the Indian trail. There seemed to have been a large party of the Indians going Northward. The pursuers failed to overtake the Indians and despite all their efforts were unable to rescue the boys.
Years afterward an officer in Wisconsin had published, for the benefit of any relatives of the parties concerned, that two white men, past middle age, had been found with one of the Northwest tribes. These men had forgotten all knowledge of the English language. They remembered that they had been captured by Indians while engaged in cutting wood and that their captors had brought them many miles, but in what direction they were uncertain.
This description, though meager, made all certain that these men were no others than the lost sons of William White. They had become so thoroughly "Indianized" that they refused to leave the tribe and come back to their people.
On the day of the boys' capture, William White was getting out a rock for a hearth. These rocks were cut from a single stone, and were called "Hath-stones." When no trace of his boys could be found, Mr. White went on with his hearth making, laying the "hath-stone" in its place, and on it he carved the date of their capture. The stone is still to be seen in a hearth in the home now located where White's house stood. The date and names are plainly visible. Some of White's descendants still reside in the historical home.—Roberta G. Turner, Xavier Chapter, D. A. R., Rome, Ga.
A LEGEND OF LOVER'S LEAP, COLUMBUS, GEORGIA.
One mile above the city of Columbus, Georgia, the Chattahoochee's turbid waters dash, fret and foam in angry surges over and among a group of giant bowlders forming what was called by the Red Men of the forest, "Tumbling Falls."
From the eastern bank of the river rises a rugged, perpendicular cliff to a lofty height, which is covered almost to its verge by majestic trees, vines and shrubs of a semi-tropical growth. This is crowned by a colossal bowlder of dark granite, and from its summit is one of the most magnificent and picturesque views of river scenery that nature has produced.
This is "Lover's Leap," famous in song and story; where the "Young Eagle" of the Cowetas clasped to his brave heart the bright "Morning Star" of the Cussetas and leaped into the deep, restless waters below.
The Alabama hills, forming a long, undulating chain, and covered with verdant beauty, arise across the river, which, below the precipice, flows gently onward until it reaches the city limits, where the waters again dash with insane fury over clustering bowlders and form the Coweta Falls, which are there arrested and utilized by the palefaced stranger to turn thousands of looms and spindles for his own use and profit.
A short distance below the Leap is the "Silver Wampum," a lovely stream of pellucid water, which rises beneath a clump of sweet-scented bays and magnolias, and flows and quivers in sunlight and moonlight, like a silver girdle, along its green and flowerdecked banks, until it reaches a rocky bed, where it falls by a succession of cascades, which form an exquisite fringe to the "Wampum" before dropping into the Chattahoochee.
There the beautiful "Morning Star" would often sit indulging in love dreams, as she beaded the gay moccasins, bags and wampums, while the "Young Eagle" followed the chase. There he would bring her the first fruits and flowers of the season.
From some warmer climate unknown to his rivals he would often procure boughs of the fragrant calycanthus, queenly magnolias and sweet-smelling jasmines, and secretly adorn this sylvan retreat in anticipation of her coming, long before the native buds began to expand their beauty. Frequently she would be startled in her blissful reveries by the rolled petal of a magnolia falling like a great snow-flake at her feet.
This she recognized as a private dispatch from "The Young Eagle," Cohamoteker (blow gun) to apprise her of his approach and hastily arising she would eagerly await his coming.
At a later date, when duty required her attentions at the wigwam, she would frequently find rare products of the chase suspended without. This was always prepared with unusual care, and relished by her father, the chief, who was too old to indulge often in his favorite pastime, and was somewhat dependent upon his braves for many luxuries of that kind.
Consequently, he did not question the source from which they came, but when particularly pleased with his repast he would say:
"Yaho Hadjo (Crazy Wolf) is good. In his wigwam will be found the richest venison and rarest birds of the air. He is a worthy mate for the Morning Star!"
When a child she had been betrothed to Young Eagle, the noble son of the Coweta chief. Their love had grown with their growth and strengthened with their strength, until it had reached an intensity where death appeared preferable to a life apart.
A rivalry had suddenly sprung up between the two tribes, who had so long smoked the calumet of peace together. The pledged word of the veterans was broken, and a feud more deadly than that of the Montagues and Capulets then existed between the brave Cowetas and Cussetas, who were of equal prowess.
The aged chief of the latter could no longer follow the warpath with the alacrity of his youth, but by the council fire all did reverence to his eloquence, and were ready to rally at his battle-cry.
His lion-hearted sons, the pride of a war-like sire, had gone in the vigor of their early manhood to the Spirit Land and the chieftain stood alone, like a giant oak of the forest, stately and grand in age and decay, with the once vigorous branches all leafless and dead save one, which still flourished in pristine beauty.
His daughter, with her starry eyes and step as fleet and graceful as a wild fawn, was the idol of his heart. In childhood he had called her "Minechee" (smart, active.) As she grew in stature and beauty, twining herself more closely around his heart, he called her "The Morning Star," for she would arise with the birds, and often waken him from slumber with songs and merry laughter while preparing for his comfort.
By the latter name she was known among the tribe.
"The Morning Star is up and shames the laggard to the chase! He should have been over the hills and far away."
The young warriors likened her to some ideal being, who basked in the smile of the Great Spirit, and worshiped her with truly loyal hearts. If we could raise the curtain of time, and read the thoughts that agitated the dusky bosoms of those fearless young braves, it would be evident that the affection and attention lavished on their old chief was partially due to their admiration for the bright and beautiful Morning Star.
Among her many suitors was Yaho Hadjo, who had cunningly ingratiated himself into her father's favor, and had long vainly sought the hand and heart of the bright-eyed maiden. In his fierce wrath, he had secretly vowed vengeance against a more successful rival. Under the garb of friendship and loyalty to his chief, he had secured a firm footing in his wigwam, and thus constituted himself a spy on the actions of the unsuspecting daughter.
She had waited long and patiently, hoping that time would soften the feud and remove every impediment to her union with the peerless Young Eagle, while he had endeavored to conciliate his tribe by every possible means that a brave warrior could to restore peace to the nation.
Alas! jealousy, that hydra-headed monster, had completely enslaved the heart of Yaho Hadjo, and at its bidding he continued to secretly add fresh fuel to each expiring flame until it had reached enormous proportions, and open hostilities seemed inevitable.
The lovers no longer dared to meet by day, but beside the Silver Wampum, when the Great Spirit marshalled his starry hosts through the blue vaulted sky, they met to renew vows of eternal love.
The stealthy footsteps of Yaho Hadjo had followed the Morning Star to the trysting place, and his watchful eye had witnessed the tender meeting with the Young Eagle.
The plans of the jealous rival were immediately formed with characteristic craftiness. He then cautiously retraced his steps and sought the presence of his chief.
Into his ear the wily creature whispered a malignant falsehood of broken faith, treachery and a contemplated raid by the Cowetas upon the Cussetas.
The old warrior's anger was instantly aroused. With all the venom of his nature rankling in his savage heart, he arose to give the war-whoop to his sleeping braves.
But Yaho Hadjo urged extreme caution, saying the Young Eagle was the ruling spirit and instigator of the intended diabolical assault, and was perhaps now prowling around like a hungry fox with a hope of capturing the Morning Star. A better and surer plan would be to offer privately a handsome reward for the person or scalp of the Young Eagle.
By that means the villainous savage thought to have his unsuspecting rival cruelly assassinated and his body secretly disposed of without arousing any suspicion of the dark deed among the Cowetas.
He doubted not the success of his cowardly undertaking; and then, without opposition, he would secure the beautiful maiden for his squaw.
He dared not insinuate to the chief that his daughter would have been a willing captive, for he had confidence in her integrity, and knew she would never forsake him to link her fate with his enemy. She had made a promise to this effect, and the Morning Star never dealt falsely.
At the conclusion of Yaho Hadjo's heartless suggestion, the old man bowed his head in troubled thought for a brief period, and then rising to his full stature, he said:
"Yes, yes; it is best! Go say to my young warriors that he who brings the chief the person or scalp from the dead head of the daring Young Eagle of the base Cowetas, shall wear on his brave heart the Morning Star of the Cussetas."
Yaho Hadjo hastened to arouse a few sleeping braves from their couches and they hurried forth rapidly but noiselessly to the Silver Wampum.
The unsuspecting lovers were totally oblivious of surrounding danger, and loth to separate, they lingered for a last farewell and final embrace, when stealthy footsteps were heard approaching.
They gave a startled glance around and beheld Yaho Hadjo and his followers with uplifted tomahawks rushing madly upon them.
Minchee threw her arms wildly around her lover.
For a brief second the assailants halted, not daring to strike the daughter of their chief.
The Young Eagle clasped her firmly to his bosom and bounded away with the speed of an antelope, he knew not wither.
Onward, over rocks and dells he flew with his precious burden, her arms thrown protectingly around and above him. Upon the narrow defile to the fearful precipice he bore her and then suddenly halted. He thought to release her there, believing she could return safely to her father, but she grappled to him as though her slight arms were hooks of steel.
The hot breath of the hated rival was felt upon his cheek, and his tomahawk flashed like a meteor above him.
The Young Eagle gave the would-be assassin one proud, defiant glance, and folding the Morning Star in a closer embrace, he leaped into the foaming torrent below.
Yaho Hadjo's uplifted weapon fell forward with a sudden impetus which forced him headlong down the lofty pinnacle, among the sharp, rugged bowlders, where his body was afterwards found a mangled, lifeless corpse.
The remaining warriors were transfixed with horror and dismay as they gazed wildly into the furious river.
To attempt a rescue would have been folly and madness, as no breathing creature could have survived the fall.
Slowly and sadly they then retraced their steps and silently entered the presence of the childless patriarch.
Alarmed by the expression of their grief-stricken faces he exclaimed:
"Where is Yaho Hadjo? Why does the Morning Star linger in the forest?"
The boldest of them dropped his head and answered slowly and hoarsely:
"The Great Spirit has taken her from us to brighten his own beautiful land. She will come no more to gladden our hearts. The Morning Star will never beam on the hunter's pathway again!"
The chief listened in silence, but evidently did not comprehend. An explanation was sternly demanded.
At length the sad story was told with all of its tender and heart-rending details.
He realized at last his total bereavement, and acknowledged it was the result of Yaho Hadjo's jealousy and falsehood. Fierce and vindictive was the malediction pronounced upon the cowardly murderer.
A dead calm followed; then rising and clasping his hands high above his head, he stood for a moment like a splendid bronze statue of despair, and in singularly pathetic tones exclaimed:
"Minechee! Minechee! Bright Morning Star! Sole treasure of my aged heart! Gone, gone, forever, and I am desolate!"
He gave one long, low, piercing wail and tottering as a tree beneath the final stroke of the woodman's axe, he fell prostrate to the earth.
His companions exerted themselves in behalf of the stricken chieftain and partially succeeded in restoring him to consciousness, but he refused to be comforted and declined all nourishment.
After a prolonged interval of silence, he arose, quitted their presence and slowly descended the hill to a ravine in the bluffs and seated himself.
He signified a desire to be alone. He wished to humble himself before the Great Spirit, that he might take pity on him. Finding he could not be persuaded to leave the place, his braves stretched a mat above his bowed head and placing food and water within reach they left him alone in his sorrow.
A few days after they found him occupying the same position, but cold and lifeless.—Mrs. Mary Cook.
INDIAN MOUND, EARLY COUNTY, GEORGIA.
On the outskirts of Blakely, County Seat of Early County, and commanding a view of a beautiful stretch of landscape, rises the famous old Indian Mound, supposed to have been made by the Creek Indians, who hunted and fished and roved so happily through the tall pines and magnolias, the great oaks and low marshes. While tradition associates this particular mound with the Creeks and Cherokees, it has been argued by scientists that it must have been built by a race of people who preceded the Indians and were partly civilized; however, that may be, the visitor to Early has missed a rare bit of romance and historic thought, who fails to see the Indian Mound, reminiscent as it is of the sacredness of a brave race, now almost extinct.
The Mound is fully seventy-five feet high and is almost five hundred feet in circumference. It is covered with large trees of oak and the same dense foliage of bamboo, pine and cedar as that which grows so profusely over the surrounding country as far as the eye can reach. The picturesque and fertile valleys below have now become a favorite place for pleasure seekers each spring, for picnic grounds and camping, and the Indian Mound cannot fail to impress the most heedless as it rises mysteriously and majestic. Parties in search of buried treasures have penetrated the Mound to a depth of fifty feet, but nothing has ever been found except human bones. Then later scientists have sunk a shaft in the very center of this Mound to a great depth and have reached a mass of bones five feet in thickness. Nothing to throw light upon the builders of this huge old relic has ever been unearthed but bones, and the people of the County, with interested visitors, have nearly all associated the site with the Indians who inhabited so thickly this part of Georgia before Early County was created.
Early County was created by Legislature, October 1818, and included then the Counties of Baker, Calhoun, Decatur, Miller, Mitchell and Dougherty. It was named in honor of George Peter Early, Chief Executive of Georgia in 1813. Governor Early, previous to the purchase of these lands from the Indians, had rendered great service to the white settlers here in protecting them from the Indians, in both their treaties with the Indians and in protection to their lives. In gratitude for this service Early County was named.
While it has never been positively decided whether the Mound Builders or the Indians are the original makers of Indian Mound, it stands a grim memorial of a dead and gone race, worthy of a visit, with its great trees yellow with age, and weeds and moss overgrown, the only epitaphs to the mystery within its depths.—Mrs. Walter Thomas, Regent, Governor Peter Early Chapter, D. A. R.
STORIETTE OF STATES DERIVED FROM INDIAN NAMES.
So many States are derived from Indian names, so I write this storiette, using all that have Indian origin.
Illinois—Tribe of Red Men.
Alabama—Here we rest.
Arizona—Small Springs.
Arkansas—Bend in the Smoky Water.
Connecticut—Long River.
Idaho—Gun of the Mountain.
Indiana—Indian's Land.
Iowa—Beautiful Land.
Kansas—Smoky Water.
Kentucky—At the head of the river.
Massachusetts—Place of Blue Hills.
Michigan—Fish Wier.
Mississippi—Great Father of Water.
Missouri—Muddy (River).
Nebraska—Water Valley.
North and South Dakota, allies:
Ohio—Beautiful River.
Oklahoma—Home of the Red Men.
Tennessee—River with a Great Bend.
Texas—Friends.
Utah—Ute.
Wisconsin—Gathering of the waters.
Wyoming—Great Plains.
Once upon a time a tribe of Red Men (Illinois) set out to find a Plan of the Blue Hills (Massachusetts.) Their canoes were safely launched in the Long River (Connecticut). At the Bend in the Smoky Water (Arkansas) they were surprised to see a canoe coming their way and that it was guided by a maid Minnehaha, the beautiful daughter of Uakomis of the Ute (Utah) Tribe of Indians. "Young maid" said the gallant Chief Hiawatha, "Is this where the Indians Land?" (Indiana). "Yes," replied the maid, "This Water Valley (Nebraska) is the home of the Red Men" (Oklahoma). Then spoke the Chief, who had at once been attracted to the Maid: "This is indeed a Beautiful Land (Iowa) and I dare say you are the Gem of the Mountain" (Idaho). The maid smiled and said: "I hope we will be friends" (Texas.) "Let us row to the Head of the River" (Kentucky). As they drifted near the bank they decided to tarry by the Beautiful River (Ohio). "Here we rest" (Alabama), said Hiawatha and whispered words of love. As they returned to the other members of their tribe, who had pitched their tents on the mountain side by some Small Springs (Arizona) each man looked up as the two approached and read the happiness that was theirs, by their smiling faces. "We will return" said Hiawatha, "to Nakomis and his Allies, of the Great Plains near the River" (Missouri), "the Great Father of Waters (Mississippi), and there on the Banks of the Sky-Tinted Water (Minnesota) we will pitch our Wigwam near the Fish Wier (Michigan) and there watch the gathering of the Waters (Wisconsin) and live in peace and happiness until we journey to our Happy Hunting Ground."—Mrs. Will Chidsey, Rome, Ga., Xavier Chapter, D. A. R.
SEQUOIA, INVENTOR OF THE CHEROKEE ALPHABET.
The invention of the Cherokee alphabet by Sequoia, or George Guess, in 1815, was the most remarkable achievement in the history of the Indian tribes of America.
Sequoia was in appearance and habits, a full Cherokee, though he was the grandson of a white man. He was born in Tennessee about 1765, and he lived at one time near Chiaha, now Rome, Georgia, but for some years before the Cherokees were moved to the West, he lived at Alpine, in Chattooga County, on what was later known as the Samuel Force plantation.
This American Cadmus was an illiterate Cherokee Indian. He could neither write or speak English, and in his invention of the alphabet he had to depend entirely on his own native resources.
He was led to think on the subject of writing the Cherokee language, by a conversation which took place one evening at Santa. Some young men were remarking on the superior talents of the white people. They saw that the whites could "put a talk" on paper and send it to any distance, and it would be understood by those who received it. This seemed strange to the Indians, but Sequoia declared he could do it himself; and picking up a flat stone, he scratched on it with a pin, and after a few minutes read to his friends a sentence which he had written, by making a mark for each word. This produced only a laugh among his companions. But the inventive powers of Sequoia's mind were now aroused to action, and nothing short of being able to write the Cherokee language would satisfy him. In examining the language he found that it is composed of the various combinations of about ninety mono-sylables and for each of these sylables he formed a character. Some of the characters were taken from an English spelling book, some are English letters turned upside down, some are his own invention; each character in the Cherokee alphabet stands for a monosylable.
From the structure of the Cherokee dialect, the syllabic alphabet is also in the nature of a grammar, so that those who know the language by ear, and master the alphabet, can at once read and write. Owing to the extreme simplicity of this system, it can be acquired in a few days.
After more than two year's work his system was completed. Explaining to his friends his new invention, he said, "we can now have speaking papers as well as white men."
But he found great difficulty in persuading his people to learn it; nor could he succeed, until he went to Arkansas and taught a few persons there, one of whom wrote a letter to a friend in Chiaha and sent it by Sequoia, who read it to the people. This excited much curiosity. Here was "talk in the Cherokee language," come from Arkansas sealed in a paper. This convinced many, and the newly discovered art was seized with avidity by the people of the tribe, and, from the extreme simplicity of the plan, the use of it soon became general. Any one, on fixing in his memory the names and forms of the letters, immediately possessed the art of reading and writing. This could be acquired in one day.
The Cherokees, (who, as a people, had always been illiterate) were, in the course of a few months, able to read and write in their own language. They accomplished this without going to school.
The Cherokee Council adopted this alphabet in 1821, and in a short time the bible and other books were printed in the language, and a newspaper, The Cherokee Phoenix, devoted entirely to the interests of the Indians, was published, in 1826, at New Echota, the capitol of the Cherokee Nation, situated about five miles west of Calhoun, in Gordon County, Georgia.
This paper was edited by Chief Elias Bondinot, one of the signers of the New Echota Treaty.
Sequoia spent much of his time with his kindred who had already gone to the West, and a few years after the final removal of the Cherokees from Georgia, he was instrumental in establishing several newspapers in their new home.
This Indian remains today the only man, in the long history of the aborigines, who has done anything for the real and lasting benefit of the race. His Cherokee alphabet is in general use by every Indian tribe in America.
Scientists have honored him by naming the largest tree that grows in California the Sequoia Gigantia. This name was given to the big red wood tree by Dr. Eulicher, the famous Hungarian botanist, who was born 1804 and died 1849. The tree is native to California and is the largest known, often measuring thirty to thirty-six feet in diameter, height from two hundred to four hundred feet, bark is often fifteen inches thick.
In 1908, a specimen of the Sequoia Gigantia came in a letter from California. The tiny sprig was five inches high and one-eighth of an inch in diameter, and was planted on Myrtle Hill cemetery in Rome, Georgia. It is now (1913) about thirty inches high and one inch in diameter.
The Sequoia Gigantia is an evergreen monument to the American Cadmus, a one-time resident of Rome, Georgia.
In his honor, Oklahoma has named a County Sequoyah.—Beatrice O'Rear Treadaway, Xavier Chapter, D. A. R.
THE BOY AND HIS ARROW.
The Barbadoes or Windward Islands have long been the territory of Great Britain and her colonies were planted there as early as on the main land of America.
Early in the eighteenth century dissatisfaction arose concerning taxes and other injustices, and some of these colonists removed to the continent, chiefly to Virginia and the Carolinas. Among these was Edmond Reid, with his family, landing at Norfolk, Virginia. He brought with him quite a number of slaves. These slaves were remarkable in many ways. They must have been part Carib; they had thin lips, straight noses and arched feet. They were erect and alert. Some of these slaves in the fourth generation came to my mother and were above the ordinary African and were so dark they evidently had no Caucasian blood.
John Reid, son of Edmond Reid, married Elizabeth Steppe, and served in the Revolution. James, the son of John and Elizabeth, was born during the Revolution, February 21st, 1778. Archery was a great sport in those days, handed down no doubt from our British ancestry and kept alive by the bows and arrows of the Indians, some of whom were still among the neighbors in the colonies. At twelve years of age James Reid was shooting arrows, and as an experiment shot one up straight toward the sky. Quickly it went up, but more quickly, with accelerated speed it returned and pierced the eye of the little archer. Painfully the arrow (in this case a pin point) was taken from the eye. Youth and a fine constitution combined to heal the wound without disfigurement of the eye, and so he seemed to have two perfect eyes, while one was sightless.
Our young Republic was just beginning to try her powers when England provoked the war of 1812. James Reid, now in the prime of manhood, enlisted when the British threatened New Orleans. As many others did, he left his wife and two little ones at home under the protection of slaves.
A few days after his return from the war, on a summer day, a pain came to the eye pierced so long ago by the arrow. The local physician was sent for, but his lotions and applications failed to give relief. At that time no surgeon, except those perhaps in France, understood surgery of the eye. So nature took her course, seemingly a cruel, dreadful course. The suffering man could neither sleep nor eat and finally could not stay in the house. He went out under the trees in the grove and when unable to stand rolled around on the grass in great agony. His wife and children and servants followed him with cold water and pillows—a sorrowing and helpless procession. After several days and nights the abscess in his eye bursted and gave instant relief. All the fluids of the eye escaped leaving it sightless and shrunken, and so it remained ever after. I never see a shrunken eye but what I recall the old man, so spirited, so cheery, so kind, our own grandfather who passed away many years ago—Mrs. R. H. Hardaway, Regent, Sarah Dickinson Chapter, D. A. R.