Revolutionary Reader: Reminiscences and Indian Legends

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A ROMANCE OF REVOLUTIONARY TIMES.

About 1768, the only son of Sir John Stirling, of Scotland, was sent to one of the West India Islands to look after some property. If he needed money he was to write home for it, putting a private mark on his letters. A serious illness caused him to forget the private mark, so no attention was paid to his letters with request for money. So he found himself stranded among strangers without money and without health.

A kindly sea captain, whom he met, offered to take him in his vessel to Connecticut without money. He gladly accepted the offer and sailed for a more healthful climate. Shortly after he left the West Indies, letters were received there from his father inquiring for him. The answer was sent to the father that his son had been very ill, and as he had disappeared they supposed he was dead. In the meantime young Stirling had gone to Stratford, Connecticut, where he taught school as a means of support. He soon fell in love with one of his pupils, pretty Glorianna Folsom, the beauty and belle of the village. Her father was a prosperous farmer. They were married in 1772. After the birth of their first child, a young minister, who was going to Scotland to be ordained, offered to hunt up his family if he would give him the necessary proofs of his identity. He did so, though reluctantly and hopelessly. The minister sailed for Scotland and soon found the family who were in deep mourning for the son they had supposed dead. They were overjoyed to hear he was alive, and at once wrote him to come home by the first vessel, not waiting for his wife and child to get ready; that they would send for them later. He did so, and his sudden departure caused the gossips to decide that Glorianna and her little daughters (for the second one was born after he left) had been deserted. It may have seemed a long period, but after he had had time to prepare a home for her and a quantity of beautiful clothing, he sent a ship to New York for her and she was requested to embark immediately. She found everything provided for her comfort and convenience and a servant to wait on her. They lived near Stirling Castle and afterwards in Edinborough and young Stirling succeeded to the honors and estates of the Baronet in due time.

Glorianna was a woman of remarkable character as well as beauty, and was the mother of eighteen children.—Grace Martin, Piedmont Continental Chapter, D. A. R.

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"FT.   MOTTE."

We have in our county of Orangeburg an historic spot which rightly in name is a monument to the self-sacrifice and heroism of Mrs. Rebecca Motte, the wife of Col. Isaac Motte.

This family had moved from Charleston to St. Matthew's Parish and owned a beautiful plantation home on the Congaree river, about where the present town of Fort Motte stands.

As Nathaniel Greene, aided by the partisan leaders, drove the British from post to post back into Charleston, the British fortified Motte's, the chief part of the post being Mrs. Rebecca Motte's home. The family had been driven out by the British and were living in the neighborhood.

Lee's and Marion's men built a mound of earth, which is still to be seen, from which the riflemen could command the inside of the fort, but the house protected the enemy still. It was found necessary to burn it.

They informed Mrs. Motte that they would probably have to burn her home, which stood in the center of the fort; she begged them that they would not consider her house of any consequence in the general cause and with great patriotism and firmness presented them with a bow and quiver of arrows and showing them how to set fire to the house, requested that they should burn it quickly.

By this means the Whigs threw fire on the roof, compelling the garrison commanded by Lieutenant McPherson to surrender or be roasted. Mrs. Motte was extremely rejoiced when she saw the garrison surrender.

Lee's and Marion's men extinguished the flames and the house was afterwards rebuilt.

Some authorities say that the bow and arrows were a present sent Mrs. Motte from India, others that they were borrowed of a negro boy. However this may be the mound of earth is all that is now visible as a reminder of Mrs. Motte's sacrifice.

The place where the house stood is at present a cotton field and owned by Mrs. A. T. Darby.

Time, the eradicator, will eventually wipe out the mound and all that will commemorate this brave deed will be the name, "Fort Motte," on the written page.—Mrs. Bessie Goggans Owen, Vice-Regent Moultrie Chapter, in American Monthly.

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PETER STROZIER.

About the year 1748, Peter Strozier, the hero of our story, was born in Germany. We know nothing of his childhood or early life, but in manhood we know him as our worthy ancestor and find him bravely fighting for American independence. He was married to Margaret Dozier in his native land and he, with four brothers, came to America about the time of the out-break of the Revolutionary War and settled in Virginia.

To the call of the country that he had come to share its reverses as well as its prosperity, and in the spirit of liberty he was ready to draw the sword when the iron heel of oppression was set upon its cherished rights.

During the seven years of faithful service he gave to his country, his wife and five children were left alone in a country home, where their lives were in constant danger. But God, in His all wise providence had sent into their home an orphan boy who was left to care, as best he could, for the family. This orphan boy, whose name was Captain Paddy Carr, was reared by our worthy ancestor, and during his life his gratitude never waned for his benefactor and benefactress. In the meantime Captain Carr moved the family to Georgia but found the condition of affairs even worse than in Virginia. The Tories at this time held full sway in Georgia and in no other state were they so wicked and cruel. The people were divided into two parties, the Tories and the Patriots. The Tories were those who took the oath of allegience to the King, and those who refused to take the oath and would rather suffer and fight for American Independence, were called Patriots. So the Tories and Patriots hated each other with a bitter hatred. While these Patriots, brave and liberty loving men, were fighting for their independence, the Tories were left unmolested in their homes. The Patriots were forced to leave their property and helpless families to the mercy of the British and Tories. The Tories were far worse than the British. They formed themselves into companies, roving over the country, committing all kinds of outrages; robbing and burning houses, throwing old grayheaded fathers and grandfathers into prison and driving helpless wives and children from their homes, showing mercy to no one who favored the American cause.

One venerable great grandmother, Margaret Strozier, fell a victim to a band of these Tories, who robbed and burned her home and drove her away. She walked with five children to South Carolina. When the young Patriot, Captain Carr, heard of the robbery and burning, his fiery blood boiled in his veins and he swore vengeance on all Tories. Henceforth he lost no opportunity to avenge the wrong done to the woman who was the only mother God had given him, and to children who were his only brothers and sisters. Tradition tells us that at the point of his own gun, he captured at one time five Tories and held them until his Company came up, and to them he showed no mercy.

Having gone through the Revolutionary War, which closed in 1782, Peter Strozier, with his family, settled in Wilkes County, Georgia. Tradition also tells us that he was a man of noble traits, with great force and dignity of character. His last days were passed under a silver-lined cloud, and in the old county of Wilkes he lies buried today. After his death, his wife, Margaret Dozier Strozier, who had shared with him the sufferings and hardships of the cruel war, moved to Meriwether County, Georgia, with her son Reuben Strozier, and she lies buried in the old family graveyard about four miles west of Greenville, Georgia, near the old Strozier homestead.

We can say by tradition, from generation to generation, that there sleep today no truer, no purer, no nobler ones than Peter and Margaret Strozier. How we love and cherish the memory of our fore-fathers! So will generations, after generations, and may we never tire in our efforts to preserve the records of the lives and struggles of those who fought and bled and died for our freedom.—Nannie Strozier Thrash.

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INDEPENDENCE DAY.

—By Mamie Crosby.

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SARAH GILLIAM WILLIAMSON.

The most remarkable woman who lived in Georgia during the Revolutionary War, perhaps, was Sarah Gilliam Williamson. Considering her loyalty to the cause of the colonies, her courage in managing the plantation and large number of negro slaves during the absence of her husband in the army, her sufferings at the hands of the enemy, together with the success of her descendants, she stands ahead of any of the Georgia women of her day.

Sarah Gilliam was born in Virginia about the year 1735. Her father was William Gilliam, and her mother Mary Jarrett, the sister of Rev. Devereau Jarrett, the distinguished Episcopal minister.

Sarah Gilliam married Micajah Williamson, a young man of Scotch-Irish parentage. In 1768 the young couple moved to Wilkes County, Georgia, and settled on a fine body of land. It was while living here in peace and abundance, with their growing family around them, that the difference between the mother country and the colonies began.

Sarah Williamson and her husband both warmly espoused the cause of the colonies, and when hostilities commenced a Georgia regiment took the field with Elijah Clarke as Colonel, and Micajah Williamson as Lieutenant-Colonel. Micajah Williamson was present in all the conflicts of this regiment and in the battle of Kettle Creek Col. Clarke gave him full credit for his part in winning the victory.

Many scenes of this nature were enacted in the neighborhood of Sarah Williamson's home, and this fearless woman not only witnessed the conflicts, but sometimes participated in them. Her husband was twice wounded and to him she gave the care of a devoted wife, nursing him back to health and to the service of his country.

Year after year during this long struggle Sarah Williamson bravely assumed the part of both the man and the woman. Under her excellent management the plantation was cultivated, supplies were furnished the army, and spinning wheels were kept busy making clothes for husband, children and slaves. Thus she toiled in the face of ever-present danger, threatened always with hostile Indians, cruel Tories and British soldiers.

Finally, one day the dreaded Tories, incensed at her husband's activity in the cause of the colonies, made a raid on the home and after taking all they wanted, destroyed by fire every building on the plantation, and their fiendish hearts not being yet satisfied with the suffering of this loyal woman, they hung her eldest son, a handsome youth, in the presence of his mother.

Her courage undaunted by this great calamity, Sarah Williamson had the faithful slaves gather up the remaining live stock running at large in the woods, and with her entire household went as a refugee to the mountains of North Carolina, where they remained until the close of the war, when they returned to the plantation.

A few years later the family moved to Washington, Georgia. Here again it became necessary for her to manage for the family when her husband was commissioned Major-General of Georgia troops and led an army against the hostile Cherokee Indians. Peace was made, however, before a battle was fought.

Now Sarah Williamson began to reap the reward her love, sacrifice, energy and labor had won. Her five sons grew to be successful men, her six daughters to be refined, educated and beautiful women, who became the wives of prominent men. One daughter married John Clarke who became Governor of Georgia.

To this Georgia mother belongs the distinguished honor of being the first American woman to furnish from her descendants two Justices of the Supreme Court of the United States; Justice John A. Campbell of Alabama was her grandson, and Justice L. Q. C. Lamar of Georgia and Mississippi was her great grandson.—Ruby Felder Ray, State Historian, D. A. R.

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A COLONIAL HIDING PLACE.

In sailing up the Hudson River, about one hundred miles above New York, you will discover on the west side a rather broad estuary, named by the old Dutch settlers, the Katterskill Creek.

This creek flows through a cleft in the mountains, known in the quaint language of the Dutch as the Katterskill Clove.

This clove, nature's pass through the mountains, was well known, and used by the tribes of the Six Nations, and especially by the vindictive, and blood thirsty Mohawks, as an easy trail by which they would descend upon the peace-loving and thrifty Dutch settlers; kill all the men who had not fled for refuge to the strong stone houses which were specially built for defence; capture the women and children, and kill all the live stock.

On the peninsula between the river and the creek, the latter being wide and deep enough to float the magnificent steamers which ply between Albany and New York, stood the colonial mansion to which your attention is called.

This mansion, for it was a splendid structure for those days, and the term would not be a misnomer in these, was built in 1763 by a Madam Dies, a Dutch matron, who afterwards married an English army officer. This man was so infatuated with his Dutch "vrow," and her wealth, that he deserted the colors, and would hide from search parties in the place to be hereinafter described.

The house was built of the gray sand stone found in that region, and was two stories high, with a capacious cellar, and an immense garret. The walls were nearly three feet thick, set in cement, which became so hard that when the day of destruction came a few years ago, the workmen were unable to tear the walls apart, but had to blow them down with dynamite. One hundred and fifty years had that cement been setting, and it was as hard as the stone itself.

In the cellar was a well to provide water in case of siege by the Indians, and heat was obtained by huge fire places in each of the eight large rooms, the smoke from which was carried off by two giant chimneys, and on one of these chimneys hangs the tale which is the excuse for this article.

Madam Dies, true to her name, was gathered to her fathers, and her craven husband went to the place prepared for those who desert their colors.

Leaving no direct heirs, the house with its ten acres of grounds, and known from its elegance and size as "Dies Folly" passed into other hands, and finally, early in the nineteenth century, was purchased by Major Ephriam Beach, and remained in the family for nearly one hundred years, until destroyed by the exigencies of business.

The huge chimneys reared their massive proportions in the center of each side of the house, and Major Beach, wishing to rearrange the interior of his dwelling, tore down the one on the north side. As it was being taken down, brick by brick, they came to where it passed through the garret, and there the workmen discovered a secret recess capable of holding several people.

It was cunningly conceived with the entrance so arranged as to exactly resemble the brick composing the chimney, and an enemy might hunt for days and fail to discover the secret hiding place. It was evidently intended as a concealed refuge in case the house should be captured by the Indians, but so far as known was never used for that purpose, the village never being attacked after the house was built. Some dishes and a water jar which were found in the hidden chamber, served to prove that the husband of Madam Dies used it to conceal himself from the British soldiers when they were hunting him, but apart from that undignified proceeding it was never used.

The house was well known to be haunted, and there are many well authenticated ghost stories told in connection with it; but the spooks were a decent and well behaved lot, and never disturbed the writer, who spent many years within its substantial walls.

The daughter of the writer was the last of my children born therein, and she never saw even a fairy Godmother, although both of her grandmothers hovered around her cradle.

The writer, Edward Cunningham Beach, is a grandson of Major Ephriam Beach, herein mentioned and the baby daughter in aforesaid is Mrs. Barrett Cothran, of Atlanta, Georgia.—Council Safety Chapter, D. A. R.

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A HERO OF THE REVOLUTION.

The descendants of Grace (Pittman) McArthur still tell to their children the story of Philip Pittman, her father, as it has been handed down from father to son.

Philip was born July 7, 1765. He was one of eleven children of John and Mary Pittman. His father served in the Revolution, as Matross in Capt. Harman Davis' Company, 4th Artillery Regiment of South Carolina, commanded by Col. Barnard Beckman.

Though too young, probably, to enlist, the revolutionary fires burned so brightly in the young patriot's breast that he was ready to give his life to his country even though he might not carry sabre or musket.

As the story goes, Philip was overtaken by Tories at one time while he was making his way over the country with provisions for his father John and some comrades.

Thinking this an easy way to find out the whereabouts of the Patriot army the Tories commanded the boy to tell where his father was, but they reckoned without their host.

The boy stoutly refused to tell, and even though strung up and hung to a near by limb until almost too near dead to talk, he still refused. Whereupon the officer, moved perhaps by the extreme youth of the boy, ripped out an oath and ordered him cut down, remarking that the —— rascal would die before he would tell.

Philip did not die, but lived to grow to manhood, enlisted in the war and served as one of Georgia's soldiers line in the Revolutionary War.

He was three times married, raised a large family of children whose allegiance to their country was only equaled by that of their father. Philip died in south-west Georgia, July 14, 1849.—Mrs. J. D. Tweedy, (Lula McArthur), Dawson, Ga., Dorothy Walton Chapter, D. A. R.

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JOHN PAUL JONES.

What American or French girl or boy does not like to hear of that "wizard" of the sea,—John Paul Jones! That "Pirate," as he was called by the English minister in Holland, when Jones took his captured prizes there, but he was no more a Pirate than you or I. The word Pirate means one who is at war with mankind, and John Paul was holding an honest position in an honorable service and fighting only the enemies of his adopted country—America.

He was born July 6th, 1747, at Arbigland, Scotland, of poor and obscure parents, his father being a gardener, but the right material was in him to make a great man and he won for himself a world-wide fame as a leading figure in the American Navy. The only conquerer to whom he ever lowered his colors was death.

At twelve years of age he was apprenticed, then went to sea on the "Friendship" to visit his brother William Paul, in Virginia. While in North Carolina, in 1773, he changed his surname to Jones for the love he bore to a family of that name living there. To show what one can do when he tries and has faith in himself, I will tell you that Jones was a poor sailor at twelve, officer at seventeen, Naval Lieutenant at twenty-eight, Captain at twenty-nine, Commodore at thirty-two, at forty-one a Vice-Admiral in the Imperial Navy of Russia, at forty-three a prominent figure in the French Revolution, and died at the age of forty-five, deeply deplored by Napoleon, who expected to do great things in conjunction with him.

Jones loved France and France loved him, and with him and France we were able to gain our liberty from the British yoke. He loved America because he loved liberty, and he put all his grand titles aside when making his last will and testament to sign himself, "I, John Paul Jones, an American citizen." Such men as Washington, Franklin, Hamilton and LaFayette, were his staunch friends. Kings and Queens delighted to do him favor. Louis XVI knighted him and presented him with a sword of honor. Catherine, of Russia, made him an Admiral and loaded him with honors. These are only a few of his distinguished friends.

In personal appearance he was slender and swarthy, with black hair and eyes; always well dressed, graceful and courtly. He was as much at home at the most aristocratic courts of Europe as when treading the deck of a man-of-war. He was grave by nature, but quite witty.

A kinder heart never beat in the breast of any man.

He hoisted the first American Flag that ever flew from an American war vessel, on his ship, the "Ranger," and at the same time Congress decided to accept the present form of the flag, it made him Captain of the "Ranger," hence his remark: "The flag and I are twins; born at the same hour, from the same womb of destiny; we cannot be parted in life or death."

February 14th, 1778, the French naval commander, Lea Motte Piquet, saluted for the first time from a foreign power the Stars and Stripes,—gave thirteen and received nine guns.

Just a word right here about the flag, so dear to us:

When Betsy Ross made our flag, she objected to the six pointed stars that General Washington wanted, because the English used it, but told him it would be more appropriate to use the five pointed star that the French and Dutch used, as they were friendly to the colonies; and she had her way.

I haven't space to tell of the many victories of Jones, but one of the greatest was when he captured the "Serapis" from the British, September 23, 1779. His own little weak vessel, the "Bonhomme Richard" went down with the flag flying, but just before it sank, his antagonist thought he was about to give up the fight, and asked him "if he had struck his flag?" He answered, "I've just begun to fight." So he won the battle and captured the prize.

Jones died July 18, 1792, in Paris, of dropsy of the chest. He was buried in the old St. Louis cemetery, in the northeastern part of Paris, and lay there one hundred and thirteen years before he was brought back to the United States. General Horace Porter is the man who, after six long years of search, finally found his body in the old cemetery, which by this time was the dumping ground for horses and dogs.

The body had been put in a leaden coffin, carefully packed with straw and hay, and then filled with alcohol to preserve it. Rear Admiral C. D. Sigsbee, was sent to France to bring the remains of the hero home.

Knowing Jones' love for our flag, the Daughters of the American Revolution Society presented Admiral Sigsbee with a beautiful silk flag, June 15th, 1905, to be used in connection with the return of Jones' remains. Afterward it was hung in Continental Hall, Washington, D. C.

On July 25, 1915, the body of Jones was placed in a brick vault, Naval Academy grounds, Annapolis, with religious and military ceremonies. On April 29, 1906, commemorative ceremonies were held in the Armory of the Naval Academy, Annapolis, and then the casket was put in Bancroft Hall. Here all that is mortal of the conquerer of the "Serapis" lies, and in the battles of life when the odds seem against us, may we be able to exclaim with him, "I've just begun to fight."—Mrs. W. E. Wimpy, Piedmont Continental Chapter, D. A. R.

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THE REAL GEORGIA CRACKER.

—L. G. Lucas.

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THE DYING SOLDIER WHO GAVE HIS WIFE FOR HIS FRIEND.

Many years ago there lived in Virginia a little boy whose name was John Davenport. His father was a farmer who planted and raised large crops of tobacco in the fields about his home. His parents were good and wise people, and carefully brought up and trained their children. John was a good boy. He was honest, truthful, obedient, bold and strong. If he had any thing to do, either in work or play, he did it well. He grew up like other boys of his day. He went to school and made many friends among his playmates by his manly conduct.

There lived in the same county in Virginia another little boy of strong and sterling character whose name was Harry Burnley. These two little boys were near neighbors and great friends, and they played and hunted and fished together all during their early boyhood days.

When John Davenport was quite a young man he met and married Lucy Barksdale, a girl of great merit and beauty who was just sixteen years old at the time of their marriage in 1772.

This couple spent many happy days together; children came to gladden their home; and life looked rosy and bright before them. As these peaceful and happy days were gliding by in their Virginia home a tempest was gathering—a great war cloud—which was destined to bring much sorrow to this happy pair.

England, the mother country, who at first dealt kindly and justly with the colonists, had begun to be unkind to them and to tax them unjustly. These oppressive and burdensome taxes the colonists refused to pay. England sent over trained soldiers to the American colonies to enforce obedience to her unjust laws. The colonists were weak, and had no trained soldiers; but they raised an army and determined to fight for their liberties. So war began.

After the Declaration of Independence by the patriots on July 4th, 1776, John Davenport, ever true to his country and his convictions of right and wrong, though regretting to leave his beautiful young wife and his happy children, took up arms to fight for liberty. Harry Burnley went with him to fight for the same noble cause. They were both brave soldiers and fought in most of the prominent battles of the Revolutionary war. They were mess-mates and bunk-mates throughout the war.

On the night of March 14th, 1781, while the two opposing armies were encamped near Greensboro, at Guilford Court House, North Carolina, and stood ready to join in bloody battle the next day, these two devoted friends were sitting by their camp fire, talking of the coming battle and thinking of their loved ones at home. John Davenport seemed sad and much depressed. Harry Burnley noticed his depression and asked him why he was no downcast. He said, "Harry, somehow I feel that I will be killed in battle tomorrow. I almost know it." Harry Burnley tried to dissipate his gloomy forebodings and cheer him up, by laughing at him and by making light of presentiments and by tusseling with him, but all without success. Determined to cheer up his friend, Harry finally said, "John, if you are killed tomorrow, I am going back home and marry your widow," Harry being an unmarried man.

On the next day the cruel battle was fought. The ground was covered with dead and dying men, soldiers on both sides, covered with blood and dust. One of these soldiers was John Davenport. He had been wounded and would die; and he was suffering from both pain and thirst. When the battle was over, his devoted friend hurried to his side and found him mortally wounded. When he found him, skulkers were stripping him of the silver buckles which he wore.[2]

He was tenderly nursed by his life-long friend during the few hours that he lived. Realizing that the end was near, John Davenport said to his friend, "Harry, I am dying; and you remember last night you said to me in jest that if I lost my life today, that you were going home and marry Lucy. You have been my best friend, you are a noble and good man, and I now ask you in earnest to do as you said you would in jest—go back home after the war is over, marry my wife, and take care of her and my five little children."

About one year after the death of John Davenport, Harry Burnley and Mrs. Lucy Davenport were married. Several years later they moved to Warren County, Georgia, where they lived and died and were buried. Mrs. Lucy Davenport Burnley was the mother of fourteen children, five by her first marriage and nine by her second. Among her descendants are to be found very many noble men and women in America—distinguished as writers, lawyers and educators, and in every walk of life. Many of her sons and grandsons have sacrificed their lives for their country.—Mrs. Annie Davidson Howell.

FOOTNOTE:

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WHEN BEN FRANKLIN SCORED.

Long after the victories of Washington over the French and the English had made his name familiar to all Europe, Benjamin Franklin was a guest at a dinner given in honor of the French and English Ambassadors. The Ambassador from England arose and drank a toast to his native land: "To England—the sun whose bright beams enlighten and fructify the remotest corners of the earth."

The French Ambassador, filled with his own national pride, but too polite to dispute the previous toast, offered the following: "To France—the moon whose mild, steady, and cheering rays are the delight of all nations, consoling them in darkness and making their dreariness beautiful."

Then arose "Old Ben Franklin," and said in his slow but dignified way: "To George Washington—the Joshua who commanded the sun and the moon to stand still, and they obeyed him."

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A REVOLUTIONARY BAPTIZING.

After the cold winter at Valley Forge, Captain Charles Cameron was sent home to Augusta County, Virginia, to recruit his Company. On his way back to the Continental Army, he and his men captured a Tory on the right bank of the Potomac River and decided to convert him, by baptism, into a loyal Patriot. Taking him down to the river bank they plunged him in.

Once—"Hurrah for King George!" came from the struggling Tory as he arose from the water.

Twice—"Hurrah for King George! Long live King George!" The Tory was again on top.

Three times—"Hurrah for King George! Long live King George! King George forever!"

The men looked helplessly at their Captain. "Loose him," were the orders, "and let him go. He is unconvertible."

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GEORGE WALTON.

The youngest of the three signers of the Declaration of Independence, from Georgia, was George Walton, who was born in Prince Edward County, Virginia, in 1749. He became an orphan when quite young and his guardian did not care to be burdened with his education, so he was given to a carpenter as an apprentice and put to hard work. After his days work he would light a fire of fat pine and study until the wee small hours of the night, thus gaining an education most boys would let go by. The good carpenter, seeing him so industriously inclined and anxious for an education, allowed him to keep the money he earned and helped him all he could and at last relieved him of his apprenticeship, and he then decided to come to Georgia. At twenty years of age he went (by private conveyance) to Savannah, which was then a small town of only a few thousand people. He studied law in the office of Henry Young and was soon admitted to the bar.

In June, 1775, a call signed by George Walton, Noble W. Jones, Archibald Bullock and John Houston, was issued asking people to meet at Liberty Pole to take measures to bring about a union of Georgia with her sister colonies in the cause of freedom. The meeting was a success, a council of Safety Chapter organized, of which George Walton was a member, the Union Flag was raised at the Liberty Pole, and patriotic speeches were made.

In July, 1775, a Congress of Representatives from all over Georgia was held in Savannah. This Congress has been called "Georgia's first Secession Convention" for it declared the colony was no longer bound by the acts of England, since the mother country was acting unjustly and oppressively. George Walton was present and though only twenty-six years old, he was recognized as one of the most influential representatives of the convention.

In December, 1775, George Walton became President of the Council of Safety and practically had charge of the colony. He was sent as a delegate to the Continental Congress in Philadelphia in 1776. The war had begun and the country was much excited. It was decided that Independence was the only proper course, so July 4th, 1776, the Declaration of Independence was signed by all delegates.

In 1777, George Walton married Dorothy Chamber; 1779 he was Governor of Georgia, then he went back to Philadelphia as a member of Congress, where he stayed until October, 1781. In December, 1778, he became Colonel in the First Regiment of Foot Militia for the defence of Georgia. The British were then bent on capturing Savannah. Col. Walton with one hundred men was posted on the South Common to guard the approach to Great Ogeeche Ferry. General Robert Howe was in command of the American forces, and Colonel Walton had informed him of a pass through the swamp by which the enemy could attack them in rear, but General Howe paid no attention to this. The result was this pass being left unguarded, the British made their way to the rear of the American forces and fell upon them with great disaster. Col. Walton was shot in the thigh, the bone being broken; and falling from his horse, was captured by the British. The enemy entered Savannah and held that city captive. Col. Walton was taken prisoner to Sunbury, where he was well cared for until his recovery. He never, however, regained complete use of his leg, for he limped the rest of his life. He was exchanged for a Captain of the British Navy and proceeded to Augusta. Soon after his return to Augusta he was made Governor of Georgia, but the state being so over-run by British, he had little to do.

Peace came to the colonists in 1782, and the British withdrew from Savannah. America was free and the states independent in 1783. George Walton was made Chief Justice of Georgia, and for seven years was a beloved judge in all parts of Georgia. In 1789 he was again made Governor of Georgia for a term of one year. While he was governor he received a copy of the Constitution of the United States which had been framed by the delegates from all the states.

In 1795 and 1796, George Walton was sent as a Senator to the Congress of the United States. For many years, and up to the time of his death he was judge of the middle circuit of Georgia. During the latter part of his life, his home was near Augusta at a beautiful country place named Meadow Garden. The house is still standing, and was bought by the Daughters of the American Revolution, and is being preserved by them as a memorial to George Walton. He died February 2nd, 1804, at Meadow Garden, in the fifty-fifth year of his life. He was buried several miles from Augusta, at Rosney, here his body rested until 1848, when it was reinterred, being brought to Augusta and placed under the monument on Greene Street, in front of court house, the body of Lyman Hall being placed there at the same time. The grave of Button Gwinnett could not be found; so only two of the signers of the Declaration rest under this stately memorial.

Few men have received as many honors as George Walton. He was six times elected representative to Congress, twice Governor of Georgia, once a Senator of the United States, four times Judge of the Superior Court, once the Chief Justice of the state. He was a Commissioner to treat with the Indians, often in the State Legislature, a member of nearly every important committee on public affairs during his life. His name occurs in the State's Annals for over thirty years of eventful and formative history.—Compiled from "Men of Mark of Georgia."

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THOMAS JEFFERSON.

In writing of a man like Jefferson, whose name has been a household word since the birth of the Nation, it is well-nigh impossible to avoid being commonplace; so that in the beginning, I ask you indulgence, if in reviewing his life, I should recount facts that are as familiar to you as the Decalogue.

Yet, in studying that life, I find such a richness of achievement, such an abundance of attainment, such a world of interest, that I am at a loss how to prepare a paper that will not require an extra session for its reading.

Thomas Jefferson was the eldest child of a seemingly strange union; the father, an uneducated pioneer, surveyor, and Indian fighter, living in the mountains of Virginia—the mother, Jane Randolph, coming from the best blood of that blue blooded commonwealth. I think we need dig no further around Jefferson's family tree in order to understand how a gentleman of education, culture, and aristocratic instincts could affect a dress so different from men of his class, and could so deeply and sincerely love the masses as to spend his life in their behalf. And this he certainly did. He worked, thought, planned, and accomplished for them—yet, throughout his life, his associations were always with the upper classes.

He began life in 1743, in the small village of Shadwell, Va., where he spent his childhood and youth among the freedom of the hills. Afterwards, whenever he escaped from public duty, it was to retire to this same neighborhood, for it was on one of his ancestral hills that Monticello was built.

Thanks to his mother, he was carefully educated at William and Mary College, from which he graduated at the age of eighteen. The Brittanica draws the following picture of him as a young man:

"He was an expert musician, a good dancer, a dashing rider, proficient in all manly exercises; a hard student; tall, straight, slim, with hazel eyes, sandy hair, delicate skin, ruddy complexion; frank, earnest, sympathetic, cordial, full of confidence in men, and sanguine in his views of life." Is not that a pleasing portrait?

Being the eldest son, his father's death, while he was at college, left him heir to his estate of nineteen hundred acres, so that he could live very comfortably. Jefferson lived in a day when a man's wealth was measured in great part by the land he owned. It is indicative of his thrift and energy that his nineteen hundred acres soon grew to five thousand—"all paid for," we are told. Indeed, he was strictly honest in paying his debts.

He was a born farmer, and to the end of his life retained his love for that mode of existence.

However, he chose the law for his profession. That he did not have to watch his practice grow through a long season of painful probation is shown by the record of sixty-eight cases before the chief court of the Province during the first year after his admission to the Bar, and nearly twice that many the second year.

Although, as I said, he loved a farmer's life, he was allowed little leisure to follow it, serving in succession as member of the Virginia House of Burgesses, member of Congress, Governor of Virginia, member of Congress again, Minister to France, Secretary of State, Vice-President, and President.

Perhaps many other men have served the public for as long a term, but I challenge history to find another who has accomplished so much for his country.

From the founding of Jamestown to the present day, no man, Washington not excepted, has had the influence over the nation that Jefferson wielded.

To have been the author of the great Declaration, it would seem, were fame enough for one American, but for him that was only the beginning. Independence achieved, he set about making his own state really free and introduced into the Virginia Legislature bill after bill which cut off the excresences of a monarchial system, lingering in the practices of a new-born nation. These bills were not all carried when he proposed them, by any means, but hear what, in the end they gave to Virginia, and remember that these things came through the efforts of one man: religious freedom, the fight for which began in '76 and continued till 1785; the system of entails broken up; the importation of slaves prohibited, and primo-geniture discontinued.

Jefferson was not a fluent speaker, but a clear thinker. Besides this, he had a great antipathy to appearing in print. Therefore, when it was necessary to say or do anything, he had only to tell somebody what to say or do, and the thing was accomplished.

Leicester Ford, who has compiled a very thorough Life of Jefferson, says that "he influenced American thought more than any other person, yet boasted that he never wrote for the press. By means of others, he promulgated that mars of doctrine, nowhere formulated, known as The Jeffersonian Principles." The doctrine that goes by the name of Monroe was probably his also.

That the principles of the Democratic Party have remained unchanged from his day to ours only shows the clearness and correctness of his logic. Not only is this true, but he thoroughly and conscientiously believed in the things he taught, the theory of States Rights being a child of his own brain.

During his two terms as President, and throughout the remainder of his life, such was the faith of his party in his wisdom, foresight, and political integrity, that he had only to express a wish, and it became, unquestioned, the law of the land.

After his retirement, his party proposed no measure until a visit was first made to the "Sage of Monticello," and his opinion obtained.

President followed President, Jefferson became old and infirm, but to the day of his death, he was undisputed leader of the American nation.

Did he not deserve the name of seer? Years before the Revolution, he warned the people against slavery, declaring that "nothing is more certainly written in the book of fate than that these people are to be free." He owned the slaves that came to him from his father and his wife, but is said never to have purchased any.

Among the things accomplished during his presidency are the extermination of the Mediterranean pirates, the exploration of the West, public debt diminished, emigration of Indians beyond the Mississippi promoted, and the wonderful Louisiana purchase.

Though his second term was clouded by constant war in Europe, and the continued depredations on American commerce, at its close, he was urged to serve for the third term, the Legislatures of five States requesting it, showing that he was not held responsible for the condition of affairs.

His was a many sided nature. Great statesman that he was, great political scientist, his ability did not stop there. His interest in commerce, agriculture, literature, history, music, education, and the natural sciences was unbounded, and his private collections, perhaps, were unexcelled at that time.

No man has done more for the cause of education among us than he. He it was who proposed a bill for "the free training of all free children, male and female." This was ten years before the admission of girls to the common schools of Boston. His reason for wanting good schools in Virginia was unique—he said he objected to being a beggar for the crumbs that fell from the tables of the North. He pleaded for nonsectarian schools, and was, therefore, called by many atheistic.

This was one of the obstacles that he had to overcome in his fight for the University of Virginia. Princeton was then sectarian—William and Mary was controlled by the Episcopal Church. The result of all this thought and desire exists for us today in the University of Virginia—the first real University in America.

Thomas Nelson Page says, "No stranger story of self sacrifice and devotion to a high ideal in the face of trials, which to lesser genius might have appeared insurmountable, and of disappointments which to less courage must have proved fatal, has ever been written than that which recounts the devotion of the last twenty years of the life of Thomas Jefferson to the establishment of a great university." The corner stone of Central College, which was afterwards enlarged to the University of Virginia, was laid in 1816 by President Monroe, in the presence of Jefferson and Madison, ex-presidents.

Not only did Jefferson see the need for this school, and work to carry it through, but he actually drew the plans for the buildings, modelling them after those of ancient Greece and Rome.

Page says, to quote from the same author—and, if you want to read an interesting book, read his "Old Dominion"—"If any pile of buildings in the world is fitted by its beauty to be the abode of philosophy it is this. * * * * The University has excelled in scholastic results any similar institution in the country. She has a larger representation in Congress than any other, a larger representation on the bench and a larger representation in the medical departments of both army and navy. This has been accomplished on an income less than that of many second rate colleges."

This result, and the high standard prevailing in the University today, have more than justified Jefferson for all his labor. His constant refrain was, "We are working for posterity."

The project was in his brain five years before he began work on it. One of his proudest titles is "Father of the University of Virginia."

Jefferson's writings consist mostly of letters and addresses, besides "A Summary View of the Rights of British America," written before the Revolution, circulated in England, and attributed to Burke, and the well known and valuable "Notes on Virginia."

He loved his home and his family, and seems to have been peculiarly blessed in them. He married a rich young widow—Martha Skelton—though it does not appear that he did so because she was rich.

Of several children only two grew to maturity, and only one survived him. His wife lived just ten years after their marriage, and almost with her last breath begged him not to give her children a step-mother. He made and kept the promise.

I know I have given a rose-colored account of him, yet some shadow belongs to the portrayal. No one could do the things that he did and not have enemies. Particularly do politicians not handle each other with gloves. Jefferson has been called all the ugly names in man's vocabulary, but very little, if any, real evidence can be adduced to support any of this.

With all his gifts, he was unfitted to lead a people in the trying time of war; consequently, his governorship of Virginia, occurring during the Revolution, and his second term as President were not eminently successful. No one can deny the bitter emnity between him and Hamilton any more than any one can prove that the former was more to blame than the latter. Admit that he was often theoretical and visionary, yet the work he accomplished proves that he was even more practical and farsighted.

That he was not free from idiosyncrasies is shown by the manner in which he went to his first inauguration, and the fact that he always dressed as a farmer—never as a President.

All this was to prove his steadfastness of faith in democratic ways and institutions. He would not indulge in making a formal speech at the opening of Congress, but wrote and sent his "message" by hand—a practice followed by every President since, with the exception of President Wilson, 1913.

In all things he was a strict constructionist. But none of these things can detract much from the name and fame of a man who has put such foundation stones in our civilization.

I have drawn my data mostly from the writings of one who holds the opposite political tenets—yet I find it recorded that "Jefferson's personal animosities were few"—that he couldn't long hold anger in his heart—that "to this day the multitude cherish and revere his memory, and in so doing, pay a just debt of gratitude to a friend, who not only served them, as many have done, but who honored and respected them, as very few have done."

His hospitality and the public desire to see him were so great that his home was for many years a kind of unprofitable hotel, because everything was free of charge. It was always full, and sometimes his housekeeper had to provide fifty beds. This great expense, added to some security debts, left him a poor man. In fact, he was in need, but when the public found it out, money came in in sufficient quantities to enable him to continue his mode of life.

Like Shakespeare, he wrote his own epitaph, any one item of which would entitle him to the love of posterity: "Here was buried Thomas Jefferson, Author of the Declaration of American Independence, of the Statute of Virginia, for religious freedom, and Father of the University of Virginia."

I fear I have been tedious, I know I have been trite—yet I beg you to read for yourselves the history and letters of this great man.

That his death occurred on the 4th day of July, 1826, just fifty years from the day when the wonderful Declaration was made, and coincident with that of his former colleague, another ex-president, seems a fitting close to a most remarkable career.

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ORATORS OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION.

Miss Susie Gentry, Vice State Regent, Tennessee.

Time, the artificer, makes men, as well as things, for their day and use.

The Revolution was the evolution of an idea—one inherent in all humanity—Liberty!

First, was the thought of a home, the most sacred and best of man's sanctuaries. These pioneer Colonists, fleeing from religious persecution, debt and poverty, often came to an untrodden wilderness of limitless forest and plain, to form a local habitation and a name.

After the establishment of the home, education and its application followed, through the teaching and oratory of the pulpit to the white man and Indian. Next in order was self-government. The Revolutionary period was productive not only of the general and soldier, but the statesman and orator, who set forth the "grievances of the people" in most glowing and convincing terms. The term "orator" has two specific meanings—in common language, one who delivers an oration, a public speaker; and technically, one who prays for relief, a petitioner. The orators of the Revolutionary period were both in one. The true orator is the poet of the practical. He must be an enthusiast; he must be sincere; he must be fearless, and as simple as a child; he must be warm and earnest, able to play upon the emotions, as a skillful musician his instrument that responds to his every touch, be it ever so light and delicate. So shall his words descend upon the people like cloven tongues of fire, inspiring, sanctifying, beautifying and convincing; for an orator's words are designed for immediate effect.

When the "Stamp Act" was repealed, March 18, 1766, Jonathan Mayhew delivered a thrilling speech, known as "A Patriot's Thanksgiving," in which he said: "The repeal has restored things to order. The course of justice is no longer obstructed. All lovers of liberty have reason to rejoice. Blessed revolution! How great are our obligations to the Supreme Governor of the world!"

Even the conservatives, Benjamin Franklin and George Washington, take of the promethean fire of patriotism; it is seen in Franklin's writings, in Washington's "Farewell Address"—his masterpiece of prophetic admonition, delivered in the style and diction of a gifted orator. A long and faithful career of usefulness, and the very human touch he had gained as a soldier and general, particularly during that terrible year of 1777, developed the hitherto unknown gift.

Of the men who composed the Second Colonial and First Continental Congress, which met at Philadelphia, September 5, 1774, William Pitt said in his speech to the House of Lords: "History has always been my favorite study, and in the celebrated writings of antiquity I have often admired the patriotism of Greece and Rome, but, my lords, I must avow that in the master states of the world I know not a people or senate who can stand in preference to the delegates of America assembled in general congress at Philadelphia."

Samuel Adams was one of the foremost orators and patriots of America, and was of Massachusetts' famous bouquet—James Otis, Joseph Warren, Josiah Quincy, John and John Quincy Adams—and left his work on the history of America as a signer of the Declaration of Independence.

James Otis, next in chronological order, was a bold, commanding orator, and the first to speak against the taxing of the colonies. He was called "the silver-tongued orator" and "a flame of fire." His death was as unusual as his gift—he was killed by a stroke of lightning May, 1772.

Joseph Warren and Josiah Quincy were both men of great talents and power, Warren was elected twice to deliver the oration in commemoration of the massacre of the fifth of March; he rendered efficient service by both his writing and addresses; and was distinguished as a physician, especially in the treatment of smallpox. He was killed while fighting as a volunteer at Bunker Hill.

Josiah Quincy's powers as an orator were of a very high order. It is sad to think that he died the very day he reached his native land, after a voyage to Europe in the interest of the colonies. One does not wonder that John Adams possessed influence, when in voting for the Declaration of Independence he exclaimed: "Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give my heart and hand to this vote;" nor that the son of such a father was called "The Old Man Eloquent" and the "Champion of the Rights of Petition," who thought "no man's vote lost which is cast for the right."

John Adams is the one man who remembered liberty and the people, for when he died July 4, 1826, his last words were, "It is the glorious Fourth of July! God bless it—God bless you all!"

From this cursory glance of the orators of Massachusetts, we can well understand how, like the "alabaster box" of old, the perfume of their noble deeds for the cause of right still lingers.

Alexander Hamilton was an orator that accomplished much for the colonies with his forceful, facile and brilliant pen, as did Madison and Jay, in the "Federalist." Patrick Henry, the red feather, of the Revolutionary period, as is E. W. Carmack of to-day—is by the South regarded the Magna Stella of that marvelous galaxy of stars. It is probable that his oratory was not as much a product of nature as was thought at the time when it was so effective. It was somewhat an inheritance, as he was the great-nephew of the Scotch historian Robertson, and the nephew of William Winston who was regarded as an eloquent speaker in his day.

Patrick, after six weeks study of law, we are told, commenced the practice of law (having the incumbrance of a family and poverty) and with what success, all the world knows. It was in the celebrated "Parson's case" that he won his spurs, and the epithet of "the orator of Nature;" also his election to the House of Burgesses, of Virginia. Nine years after he made his famous speech in which he told George III he might profit by the examples of Caesar and Charles I, he delivered his greatest effort of oratory—in which he said, "I know not what course others may take, but give me liberty, or give me death!"

Thomas Jefferson was the father of that instrument, the Declaration of Independence—that gives us "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness," in so far as we trespass not on the moral and civil rights of our neighbor—and was persuasive and eloquent, as well as an acute politician. He was the acknowledged head of his party; and his work was of the uttermost importance to both the colonies and states. No one politician and orator has left a more indelible impression upon succeeding generations than he.

Thomas Paine also did his quota as an orator and writer; and great were the results accomplished by his "Common Sense" and the first "Crisis." Paine was not only a writer and orator, but a soldier. Under General Nathaniel Greene he rendered such efficient and valuable service that he was called the "hero of Fort Mifflin." Although he was an Englishman, who came to America and espoused the cause of the Continentals, the English nation are glad to own him. William Cobbett (the English statesman) says "whoever wrote the Declaration, Paine was its author."

Paine was one of the most noted orators, if we remember that an "orator is one who prays for relief—a petitioner," whether it be viva voce or with the pen. We wish it were possible in the time allotted to us to give extracts from the speeches and writings of these orators of the Revolution. How grateful we should be, and what a debt of gratitude we owe each of them, for their labors that have long since received the encomium from God and man—"well done, thou good and faithful servant."—American Monthly.

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THE FLAG OF OUR COUNTRY.

—Metta Thompson in American Monthly.

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THE OLD VIRGINIA GENTLEMAN.

Many of you have no doubt heard or read the famous lecture of Dr. Bagley, entitled "Bacon and Greens," and chuckled over his vivid description of "The Old Virginia Gentleman." You may be interested in knowing that a portrait of the Hon. James Steptoe, of Federal Hill, Bedford County, Virginia, painted by Harvey Mitchell in 1826, was the inspiration of this interesting lecture.

This "Old Virginia Gentleman" was a worthy representative of the House of Steptoe, whose forefathers played an important part in the history of the "Old World." The progenitor of this interesting family was Anthony Steptoe, the third son of Sir Philip Steptoe, of England. Anthony and his wife, Lucy, came to the Colony in 1676, and located in Lancaster County, Virginia, and they were the great grandparents of Hon. James Steptoe.

"The Old Virginia Gentleman" was one of four brothers, George, James, Thomas, and William; they had four half sisters, Elizabeth and Ann Steptoe; Mary and Anne Aylett; and two step-sisters, Elizabeth and Ann Aylett; thus the families of Steptoe and Aylett are often confounded.

Col. James Steptoe, M. D., of "Homany Hall," Westmoreland County, Virginia, was born in the year of 1710, and died in 1778. He was a distinguished physician, and held many positions of honor and trust in affairs of Church and State. He married firstly Hannah Ashton, and secondly Elizabeth Aylett, the widow of Col. William Aylett and a daughter of Col. George Eskridge. The descendants of Colonel Steptoe and Colonel Aylett are often confounded.

Col. Aylett married first Ann Ashton, a sister of Colonel Steptoe's first wife, and had two daughters, Elizabeth and Ann. Elizabeth Aylett married William Booth, and Ann married William Augustin Washington (a half-brother of our beloved Gen. George Washington). Colonel Aylett married secondly Elizabeth Eskridge, and had two daughters, Mary and Anne; Mary married Thomas Ludwell Lee, of "Bell Vieu;" and Anne married Richard Henry Lee, of "Chantielly."

Col. James Steptoe had two daughters by his first marriage, Elizabeth and Ann; Elizabeth married first Philip Ludwell Lee, of "Stratford," and secondly Philip Richard Fendall; and Ann married first Willoughby Allerton, and secondly Col. Samuel Washington, a younger brother of Gen. George Washington. Of the four sons of Col. James Steptoe, George and Thomas never married; William married Elizabeth Robinson, and they resided at the old Robinson homestead, "Herwich." The Hon. James Steptoe, the original "The Old Virginia Gentleman," was born in the year of 1750, at "Homany Hall," Westmoreland County, Virginia. He was educated at William and Mary College, and while there was a fellow student of Thomas Jefferson. They formed a close friendship, which continued throughout life. It was through the influence of Jefferson that James Steptoe was appointed to an office under Secretary Nelson, after which he was transferred in 1772, at the early age of 22, to the clerkship of the District Court at New London, in Bedford Co., Va. This position he held until his death in 1826, having served fifty-four years. He married Frances Calloway, a daughter of Col. James Calloway, of Bedford County.

The Hon. James Steptoe built the mansion house known as "Federal Hill," and it was here that he spent his useful life surrounded by his family, and noted for his sincerity and hospitality. This mansion was situated three miles from "Poplar Forest," the abode of his friend, Thomas Jefferson, who loved to seek seclusion there during his intervals of rest from public service.

Upon one occasion when Gen. Andrew Jackson, on his way to Washington just after the battle of New Orleans, had stopped to dine with his friend, James Steptoe, he met Thomas Jefferson just at the gateway. The two great men dismounted from their horses and exchanged salutations with each other and with their host, who awaited them within upon the lawn. Mr. Jefferson, with his courtly manner, waving his hand, stood back for "Old Hickory" to pass before him; but that gallant soldier, bowing low, said: "Surely, Mr. Jefferson does not think that I would go before an ex-President of the United States." To which Mr. Jefferson graciously replied: "It would ill become me to take precedence of the hero of New Orleans." Thus these two distinguished men stood bowing and scraping to each other in the roadway in true "Gaston and Alfonse style," while Mr. Steptoe waited for them with, I am sure, amused impatience; until at length General Jackson threw his arms about Mr. Jefferson and gently lifted him quite over the threshold, and then the General's aide and the other gentry coming up, we may be sure they had a jolly good time—a "feast of reason and a flow of soul," not forgetting Mrs. Steptoe's bountiful dinner served on the famous Steptoe silver, a veritable feast of "wines on the leas," which to read about makes us long more than ever for a return of those good old times.

But once a shadow fell upon the friendship of Mr. Jefferson and Mr. Steptoe, as clouds will fall upon human friendships. James Steptoe had another valued friend, Major Gibbon, a gallant officer of the Revolutionary army, who had led the forlorn hope at the battle of Stony Point. This old hero had been given the appointment of collector of customs at Richmond, but had been removed by Jefferson because it had been represented to him that Major Gibbon was on familiar terms with Aaron Burr, who was then on trial at Richmond for acts charged against him as treasonable. Soon after the removal of Major Gibbon Mr. Jefferson was on one of his visits at Poplar Forest, but his old friend, James Steptoe, who was usually the first to welcome him, the illustrious visitor, to his summer home, neither went in person nor sent a message of salutation to his life-long friend. Days lengthened into weeks, and still he made no sign, and at length Mr. Jefferson, on a bright summer morning, rode over to Mr. Steptoe's and dismounted from his horse at the gate, and on entering the yard found Mr. Steptoe walking to and fro on his porch, apparently unconscious of his guest's arrival.

Mr. Jefferson advanced with outstretched hand and cordial smile, but Mr. Steptoe gazed cold and stern upon his visitor, returning no look or word of kindness for the offered greeting of the President, who thus addressed him: "Why, James Steptoe, how is this? I have been for weeks within a stone's throw of you, and though you have usually been the first to welcome me home, your face is now turned from me, and you give me no welcome to your house." To this Mr. Steptoe coolly replied: "Mr. Jefferson, I have been disappointed in you, sir, you are not the man I took you to be. You know as well as I do that Maj. James Gibbon was a brave, a meritorious officer in the Revolutionary army, that he served under Aaron Burr, who was also a gallant soldier, and his officers were greatly attached to him. Now when Colonel Burr has been brought to Richmond for trial, committed to prison and every indignity heaped upon him, and just because Major Gibbon has supplied his old commander with some necessaries and comforts, you, from hatred of Burr, have wreaked your vengeance on Gibbon and deprived a faithful old soldier of an office which was his only means of support." "Why, Steptoe, is that all?" said Jefferson, "I assure you the matter had not been so presented to me before. But the same hand that removed Major Gibbon can replace him, and justice shall be done him at once." "Then you are, indeed, my friend, and welcome as ever to my home and heart," cried James Steptoe.

James Steptoe's land and silver are gone, his bones have turned to dust; and ere long his name may be forgotten, but let us now honor the man who would refuse the proffered hand of the President of the United States, when that hand was stained by an unworthy act. Would there were more men of such mettle in our day!

James Steptoe was not only noted for his hospitality and justness, but also for his charity. Driving along in his coach and four, he passed the house of a certain widow, Mrs. Chaffee. Upon noticing a crowd gathered around, he sent his coachman, Ben, to inquire the cause. Hearing that the poor woman was being sold out for debt he descended from his carriage, stopped the auction, paid the mortgage, and added one more noble act of charity to his record.

James Steptoe was beloved by everyone, and especially so by his slaves, whom he had taught different trades that they might support themselves after his death when, by his will, they were all set free. A handsome monument in the old family burying ground in Bedford County, bears this inscription, "James Steptoe, born 1750, died 1826, for fifty-four years the Clerk of Bedford County."

The office of clerk of the Court of Bedford County has been held by the Steptoe family in its lineal and collateral branches for more than a hundred years.

The character of James Steptoe may be described in a few words, integrity, independence, and the strictest form of republican simplicity. Though descended, as has been shown, from a long line of the better class of English gentry, he never alluded to it himself; in fact, it was not known in his family until after his death, when they learned it through his correspondence. He was a man who held very decided opinions on all subjects, and would at times express them as to men and public affairs in very strong language, being strong in his friendships and equally strong in his dislikes. As a clerk, he was everything that could be desired, polite and obliging, as all Old Virginia Gentlemen are; careful and attentive in the business of his office and in court, and ever ready at all times to give information and advice to those who needed it.

The Hon. James Steptoe and his wife, Frances Calloway, were the parents of five sons and four daughters, as follows: Major James, who succeeded his father as Clerk of Bedford, and who married Catherine Mitchell; Dr. William, of Lynchburg, who married first Nancy Brown, and second Mary Dillon; George, of Bedford County, who married Maria Thomas; Robert, of Bedford County, who married Elizabeth Leftwich; Thomas, who inherited the old home, married Louise C. Yancy; Elizabeth Prentise, who married Hon. Charles Johnston, of Richmond, Va.; Frances, who married Henry S. Langhorne, of Lynchburg, Va.; Sallie, who married William Massie, of Nelson County, Virginia; Lucy, who married Robert Penn, of Bedford County, Virginia. James Steptoe's descendants are scattered throughout the United States, and are among our most distinguished citizens. He has also descendants in England.

The old portrait by Harvey Mitchell is now owned by the Rt. Rev. James Steptoe Johnston, Bishop of Western Texas; and a fine copy of the same is owned by Mrs. William Waldorf Astor, of Cliveden-on-the-Thames, England,—Edna Jones Collier, in American Monthly.

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WHEN WASHINGTON WAS WED.

It is difficult to give the proper credit for the above poem. Mrs. Walter J. Sears, New York City Chapter, found a few beautiful lines, author unknown, added some lines herself, and then sent the whole to "Will Carlton," who revised and added to them. Mrs. Sears recited the poem at the celebration of Washington's wedding day by the New York City Chapter, D. A. R., in January, 1909.