Jared Irwin was born in Mecklenburg, N. C., in 1750, about two years after his parents arrived from Ireland. They emigrated from Mecklenburg County, N. C., and came to Burke County, Georgia, when Jared was seven years old. Years afterward Jared moved to Washington County.
He was a faithful soldier in the Indian wars, serving as a Brigadier-General in the Georgia Militia. In the Revolutionary War he served as Captain and afterwards as Colonel, fighting in the siege of Savannah and Augusta and in the battles of Camden, S. C., Briar Creek, Georgia, Black Swamp, and others.
Just after the first siege of Augusta, in 1780, Colonel Williamson was placed in command of Colonel Clarke's forces and on April 16th, 1781, he led them to Augusta and fortified his camp within twelve hundred yards of the British works. Here Captain Dun, and Captain Irwin with the Burke County men, joined him, where they guarded every approach to Augusta for nearly four weeks, never for a moment relaxing their vigilance, but waiting impatiently for the promised assistance from General Greene.
At last, the militia, destitute of almost every necessity of life, wearied of their hard service, and giving up all hope of aid, determined to return to their homes. The encouragement of Colonel Jackson roused their drooping spirits, inspired them with hope and courage, and saved them from tarnishing the laurels they had already won. The militia afterwards nobly did their part in all the fights around Augusta.
Jared with his three brothers John, William, and Alexander, built a fort in Washington County known as Fort Irwin, which was used as a defence against the British and with his private money he equipped his company of soldiers for the war.
Jane, the Governor's youngest child, received a claim through our great members, Alexander H. Stephens and Robt. Toombs, in the United States Congress, to the amount of ten thousand dollars for money expended by her father in the defence of his section of the country in time of the Revolutionary War.
Jared Irwin represented Washington County in the Legislature and was President of the State Senate at different times from 1790 to 1818. He was in the Convention for revising our Constitution in 1789, and was president of the body which revised it in 1798. At the close of the war of Independence he was a member of the Legislature that convened under our present form of government.
In 1796, the Legislature assembled in Louisville, then the Capitol of Georgia, and on the second day of the session, January 17th, he was elected Governor. The Legislature at once took up the Yazoo Act over which the State was greatly excited.
A committee of investigation pronounced it not binding on the State on account of the fraud used to obtain it. James Jackson introduced a bill known as the "Rescinding Act." This was at once passed by both houses and signed by Gov. Irwin, Feby. 13th, 1796.
It was resolved to burn the papers of the Yazoo Act and thus purge the records of everything relating to it. So on Feby. 15th, 1796, wood was piled in front of the State House, and, in the presence of Gov. Irwin and both branches of the Legislature, fire was kindled by the use of a lens and the records and documents were burned "with a consuming fire from heaven."
After the death of General James Jackson, United States Senator, Governor Milledge was elected to fill his place by the Legislature at an extra session held in June, 1806, and in September following tendered his resignation as Governor. In this way, Jared Irwin, President of the Senate, again became Governor, and when the Legislature met in November he was elected to that office for a full term, thus filling the Governor's chair from the 23rd of September, 1806, to the 7th of November, 1809.
His administration as Governor was distinguished for justice and impartiality. The spotless purity of his character, his affable disposition, his widespread benevolence and hospitality, made him the object of general affection. To the poor and distressed he was benefactor and friend.
In every position of public life, as a soldier, a statesman and a patriot, the public good was the object and the end of his ambition, and his death was lamented as a national calamity.
Governor Irwin married Isabella Erwin, his cousin, and they had four children, Thomas, John, Elizabeth and Jane. Thomas was among the nine in the first class that graduated from the University of Georgia on Thursday, May 31st, 1804, and had a speaker's place at Commencement. Jane the youngest child, lived and died an old maid; she said she would not marry for fear that the Irwin name might run out. She was spirited, a good talker, and affable in her manner, a patriotic, whole-souled, noble woman.
Governor Irwin died on March 1st., 1818, at the age of sixty-eight and was buried at his home at Union Hill, in Washington County.
In 1856 there was an appropriation by the Georgia Legislature to erect a monument to his memory; and in 1860, a Committee consisting of Colonel R. L. Warthen, Captain S. A. H. Jones and Colonel J. W. Rudisill, was appointed to select a site for same. It was decided to erect the monument in Sandersville, Ga., the county site of Washington County; and here it still stands on Court House square—a shaft of pure white marble—a gift from the State to the memory of her noble son who gave his life, love and ability to his beloved Georgia, "Empire State of the South."—Governor Jared Irwin Chapter, D. A. R.
By Mrs. DeB. Randolph Keim.
Regent Berks County, Reading Pa., Chapter and Honorary Vice-President General, D. A. R.
Again you are assembled to do honor to the memory of George Washington, Commander-in-Chief of the Continental armies during the war for Independence, this being the one hundred and seventy-ninth anniversary of his birth.
The first steps to the establishment of a school of systematic education of young men was William and Mary College, of Williamsburgh, the capital of Virginia, in 1617, twenty-six years before the foundation of Harvard in Massachusetts. But the character of the former was not granted until 1693, or fifty years after. The first common school established by legislation in America was in Massachusetts, in 1645, but the first town school was opened at Hartford, Conn., before 1642, and I feel proud to say I graduated from this same school over two hundred years later, then known as the Hartford Latin Grammar School and later Hartford Boys' and Girls' High School.
The only established schools of higher learning in America after William and Mary in Virginia and Harvard in Massachusetts for the education of young men later prominent in the Revolution were: St. John's, Annapolis, Md., 1696; Yale, New Haven, Conn., 1701; University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, 1740; Princeton, N. J., 1746; Washington and Lee, Lexington, Va., 1749; Columbia, New York, 1754.
Only the sons of men of means could avail themselves of these advantages. Therefore the great mass of those who became more or less prominent picked up whatever they knew as best they could. In Virginia, Patrick Henry, Washington and others had the limited opportunity and means of the old "Field or Plantation School" which was the only road to the rudest forms of knowledge. These were generally taught by men of fair education, but adventurous life, who were paid by the planters within a radius of eight or ten miles.
A notorious pedagogue, by the suggestive name Hobby, celebrated in Virginia annals for the brisk coercive switching of the backs of his "boys" as the most effective road to knowledge, is made famous in history as the rudimentary educator of the great man whose beginning of life's journey dates from this day. Washington's parents having removed from the place of his birth when a child resided within a journey of thirteen miles of the despotic jurisdiction of Hobby, and thither the boy walked or rode daily except Sundays in all kinds of weather, even being obliged to row across the Rappahannock River to Fredericksburg, where this vigorous applier of the ferrule held forth.
At eleven years, the death of Washington's father put an end to even this limited supply of "schooling." But the young man fortunately had a mother who was one of the few educated women of that period. We learn from a primitive record that Mary Ball, the name of Washington's mother, was educated by a young man graduated from Oxford, England, and sent over to be assistant to the rector of the Episcopal parish in which she lived. At the age of fifteen she could read, write and spell. In a letter preserved she wrote to a young lady friend: "He (her tutor) teaches Sister Susie and me and Madame Carter's boy and two girls. I am now learning pretty fast."
It was Governor Berkeley who, in a letter to his friends in England, boastingly "thanked God that there were no schools and printing in Virginia."
Washington was always methodical, and what he undertook was done well. This trait he inherited from his mother, as she was a woman worthy of imitation. From her stern disciplinary character and pious convictions her son learned self-control and all the characteristics of address and balance, which carried him through the most intricate and discouraging experiences of his career.
The tastes of Washington in childhood were instinctively military; all his amusements pointed that way. At twenty-one his first mission to the French at le Boeuf, fixed his career as a fearless man of action. The rescue of Braddock's Regulars from destruction by the savages was his baptism of fire; the rest, a manifestation of human greatness put the stamp of military prowess upon him. Virginia furnished more of the leaders of the first rank in the contest with the Crown than any other one colony, and yet some of the men who contributed most to the incisive work of the conflict had few opportunities of education.
For instance, Patrick Henry, who electrified the issue in his famous epigram which struck the fulminate of the combat for independence: "Caesar had his Brutus, Charles the First his Cromwell and George the Third" (Treason, treason being shouted), rejoined, "if this be treason, make the most of it." This same authority, being criticised by aristocratic loyalists for his lack of education, replied: "Naiteral pairts are more acount than all the book lairning on the airth."
Thomas Jefferson, on the other hand, was a man of higher education. The private schoolhouse ten feet square on the Tuckahoe plantation, thirteen miles west of Richmond, in which Thomas Jefferson and his kinsman, Thomas Marr Randolph, were educated, in part by a private tutor, was in a good state of preservation when I had the pleasure of visiting Tuckahoe at the time of the international review at Hampton Roads.
What we today call free school education began in a simple form under the Quakers of Philadelphia in the earliest years of the Provincial government of Penn, the first proprietary. Thomas Holme in bad rhyme and not much better grammar tells about these schools in 1696. In what the Germans would call the hinterland the school was at a low ebb. There being no towns there were no facilities to get enough scholars together to make the pay of a teacher worth the while. The Germans, the dominant element, when educated at all, were under the tuition of teachers of parochial schools of the evangelical denominations and sects of their own, frequently pastors or missionaries in the language of the Fatherland. In Pennsylvania among the emigrants who came over in colonies there was a preacher and a schoolmaster. This was particularly so among the Dutch, Swedes and Germans. The English Quakers began schools in Philadelphia very soon after the foundation of that town. In the interior schools were rare as the settlements were scattered.
Reading was not founded until 1748, therefore education had not made headway at the time when the men prominent in Berks affairs during the Revolution were at the educational age. Yet those who figured during that period in prominent places held their own with any of their city contemporaries. Among the people generally, according to the oath of allegiance list, handwriting was evidently not widespread, judging from the number of "his (cross) mark," substituted for signatures in 1777-1778.
In 1714 Christopher Dock, a German, opened a school at Skippach, below what is now Pottstown, about thirty miles from this large assemblage of educated young ladies. Christopher Dock was a man of real learning, unexcelled by any outside of Pennsylvania in his time. His "Schule Ordnung" written in 1750 and printed by Christopher Sauer, of Germantown, 1770, was the first treatise on education produced in type in the American colonies. The leaders in the German emigration prior to the American Revolution were often men of the highest scholastic training.
In New England began the earliest systematic preliminaries and expansion in the line of schooling. It has the honor, as I have shown, of founding the second institution of higher learning which survives today. James Otis, Samuel and John Adams, foremost agitators on the legal technicalities of opposition to England, were the best types of the output of New England's educational opportunities of the times.
It is one of the greatest tributes to our forefathers that with these limited and more frequently rude means of getting an education there should have been so many examples of brain and culture to meet the educational requirements of the conflict with the British Crown, the preparation of documents which stood the most critical scrutiny, and as well the preparation and negotiating of correspondence, conventions and treaties to compare favorably with the most advanced university educated statesmen of the Old World.
What I have said applies to men, but what about the young women of the same period? Except in the few largest towns where some enterprising woman was courageous enough of her own volition to establish a school for young ladies, the education of women was not considered of importance. The Moravians were the first and most notable exceptions. The seminary at Bethlehem, almost in sight of where we are now gathered, was famous in Revolutionary days.
In New York and Philadelphia there was an occasional fashionable "school" for young ladies.
Abigail Smith, who became wife of John Adams, one of the earliest agitators and leaders of the contest, one of the committee that drafted the Declaration of Independence, first Vice-President and second President of the United States, was a woman of education. Being the daughter of a Congregational preacher and having a taste for books, her father devoted much care to her instruction.
As John Adams, on account of his radical patriotism was the man the British authorities most feared, and were looking for, the letters of Mrs. Adams to her husband and his replies are valuable contributions to American history.
They were perfect in writing, spelling, grammar and composition. I may add, though, of a date long after, history is indebted to her letters to her daughter for the only eye witness account we have of the trials and tribulations of the journey of the President's family from Philadelphia to Washington, in the fall of 1800, then the new seat of government, getting lost in the woods and taking possession of the unfinished President's palace, as it was called, without firewood during bleak November days and nights with no looking glasses, lamps, nor anything else to make a President's wife comfortable.
As a rule, young women were not educated in books, but taught to sew, knit, spin, weave, cook, wash, iron and perform all other household requirements. Her value in the scale of life was in proportion as she was skilled in the duties of a housewife. This was the real type of womanhood in those days, and should always be, with a cultivated mind added.
When we read of their heroic maintenance of the home, care and training of children, management of the farm, sale of its products and often facing hardships in keeping the wolf from the door, while husbands, sons and brothers were fighting for liberty and independence, we care not whether they could read, write, spell, cast up accounts or not, but think of their woman's contribution to the success of the contest.
It is positive that the fathers of the Revolution would not have been successful but for the women, perhaps uneducated in books but competent and self-sacrificing in maintaining the home, while the men were fighting for liberty and free exercise of all its enjoyments. If this great nation is a testimonial of what women without the aid of books contributed in laying the foundation, what must now be expected of women having every advantage of education from kindergarten and primary schools to the woman's college?
I might mention sixteen colleges now exclusively devoted to the education of young women in New York, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, Maryland, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, Ohio, and Illinois with a roll of eight thousand young women students.
The first seniority is Mount Holyoke, Mass., founded in 1837, having 755 scholars; the largest is Smith College, Northampton, Mass., 1,620 young women; next Wellesley, Mass., 1,375, and Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania, 1,125. To show the difference between now and the days of our revolutionary fathers, the school houses were built of logs, one story high, with bark roofs and puncheon or dirt floors, which on account of incessant tramping usually became covered several inches deep with dust. The teacher sat in the center of the room.
In the log walls around were driven wooden pegs upon which were laid boards that formed the desks. The seats were rough stools or logs. All sat with backs to the teacher. The windows to admit light were fitted with white paper greased with lard instead of glass. The boy scholars wore leather or dried skin aprons and buckskin tunics and leggins, when they could not get woven materials. And the girls, coarsely woven flax or wool bodices, skirts, kerchiefs, and aprons and footwear of wood, coarse leather, not a few going barefoot.
The writing equipment in Revolutionary days consisted of ink which was of home manufacture from an ink powder, quills and a pen knife, cutting pens from goose quills being an art. The rest of the materials were paper, pumice, a rule, wax, and black sand, shaken from a pepper box arrangement, instead of blotting paper.
The earliest method of teaching before school text-books were known was by what was termed the hornbook, a tablet of wood about 5 by 2 inches upon which was fastened a paper sheet containing the alphabet in capitals and small letters across the top and simple syllables like, ab, ad, etc.; below and underneath the whole the Lord's Prayer. The paper containing this course of study was covered with a sheet of transparent horn fastened around the edges. At the lower edge was a small handle with a hole through it and a string to go around the neck. By this means the advantages of a colonial education stayed by the scholars if they wished to avail of them or not.
These hornbooks were made of oak, bound with metal for common folks, but for the rich of iron and metal, often silver. Some were wrought in silk needle work. Their popularity is shown by their advertisement for sale in the Pennsylvania Gazette, December, 1760, and New York Gazette, May, the same year. Battledore book was another name. Another style was the printed cardboard battledore, about fifteen inches long and folded over like a pocket book.
The primer succeeded the hornbooks, the New England Primer being one of the earliest. It is recorded that three millions of these were sold, so great was the desire for education in times preceding the Revolution. These little books were five by three inches and contained 80 pages. They gave short tables of easy spelling up to six syllables; also some alphabetical religion in verse, as
K—for King Charles the good,
No man of blood.
In the Revolutionary days this was transposed to
K—for Kings and queens,
Both have beens.
Z appears to have been a poser in this alphabetical array of rhythmic religion, rendered
The hours of study were eight a day.
There were also text-book writers in those early times.
Among the titles one reads: "A delysious syrup newly claryfied for young scholars yt thurste for ye swete lycore of Latin speche." Another: "A young Lady's Accident or a short and easy introduction to English Grammar designed principally for the use of young learners, more especially for those of the fair sex though proper for either." Fifty-seven pages. It had a great sale.
It was the style of the time to set books of instruction in doggerel verse, even spelling, grammar and arithmetic. The latter was taught by means of "sum books," simply "sums" copied by the learner from an original furnished by the teacher.
Alphabet lessons were similar to the alphabet blocks children play with to-day, generally beginning with verses from the Bible. An interesting fact is that we find the child's prayer, "Now I lay me down to sleep," in the New England Primer catechism as far back as 1737. A more beautiful tribute could not be paid to this invocation of childhood than the thought of the generations of American children who were thus taught in their everyday lessons their dependence upon the Supreme Being.
Some of the most interesting contributions we have to the literature of the Revolutionary period are the letters of the educated women of the time. They are the more pleasing because they relate to the affairs of home and social life.
You, of this age of education of women are expected to exert a large share in their extension and enjoyment.—American Monthly Magazine.
Many people believe that Nancy Hart was a myth. But not so. In the "Life and Times of William H. Crawford," by J. E. D. Shipp, of Americus, the story is reproduced, as the Hart family lived not far from the home of the Crawfords. Col. Shipp says:
On the north side of Broad River at a point about twelve miles from the present city of Elberton, Ga., and fourteen from historic Petersburg, in what is now Elbert County, was situated the log house in which Benjamin Hart and his wife, Nancy Morgan Hart, lived at the commencement of the Revolution. The spot is easily located to this day as being near Dye's and Will's ferries, and on the opposite side of the river from which Governor Matthews settled in 1784, near a small and romantic stream known as "War Woman's Creek." This was the name given to it by the Indians in honor of Nancy Hart, whom they admired and feared. Her home was near the entrance of the stream into the river.
The State records show that Benjamin Hart drew 400 acres of land on Broad River, and afterwards another body of land in Burke county. He was a brother to the celebrated Col. Thomas Hart of Kentucky, who was the father of the wife of Henry Clay. He was a well-to-do farmer, and was compelled to take his stock and negroes to the swamp to protect them and his own life from the unrestrained Tories. As captain of a small company of 'Partisans,' he would sally forth from his hiding place only whenever there was a chance of striking the enemy an effective blow.
The Tories generally spared the women, but killed the men, though unarmed. Nancy Hart, alone with six boys—Morgan, John, Thomas, Benjamin, Lemuel and Mark—and her two girls, Sally and Keziah, presents a unique case of patriotic fervor, courage and independence of character. Rough, six feet tall, spare, bigboned and exceedingly strong, she was highspirited, energetic and shrewd. The Whigs loved her—the Liberty boys called her "Aunt Nancy." The Tories hated her.
When General Elijah Clark moved the women and children away from Broad River settlement to a place of safety in Kentucky most of them were anxious to go, but Nancy refused, and remained alone with her children after her Whig neighbors had departed. Her house was a meeting place for her husband's company. She aided as a spy and kept him informed of the movements of the enemy. She always went to the mill alone and was an expert equestrienne. One day while on her rounds she was met by a band of Tories with the British colors striped on their hats. They knew her and demanded her "pass." She shook her fist at them and replied: "This is my pass; touch me if you dare."
Tories lived on the opposite side of the river from her, and she had many trials with them. Some are noted. One night "Aunt Nancy" was boiling a pot of lye soap in the big fireplace of her stack chimney. Suddenly she noticed a pair of eyes and a bearded face at a crack between the logs. Pretending not to see the prowler, she went on stirring the soap and chatting with the children. Biding her time, she deftly threw a ladleful of the boiling soap into the face of the intruder, whom, blinded and roaring, Nancy bound fast and the next morning marched him across the river, wading the ford, and delivered him to Colonel Clark. She had many encounters, capturing Tories and taking them to the commander.
But of all her acts of heroism this one eclipses all others. From the detachment of British soldiers sent out from Augusta, and which murdered Colonel Dooly, there were five who diverged to the east and crossed Broad River to examine the neighborhood and paid a visit to Nancy Hart. They unceremoniously entered her cabin. Being hungry, they ordered her to cook food for them. She replied that the Tories and the villains had put it out of her power to feed them, as she had nothing. "That old gobler out there is all I have left." The leader of the party shot down the turkey, brought it in and ordered Nancy to prepare it without delay. She and her children went to work at the task. Finally she heard her unwelcome guests boasting of killing Col. Dooly. Then she appeared in good humor and exchanged rude jests with them. Pleased with her freedom they invited her to partake of their liquor, which she accepted with jocose thanks. While the turkey was cooking Nancy sent her eldest daughter to the spring for water, with directions to blow the conch shell, which sound her father would interpret. The Tories became merry over the liquor, pouring it from the jug with laughter, as they hurried up Nancy, anticipating a good feast. They were at ease. They stacked their arms within easy reach, and Nancy would ocasionally pass between the men and their muskets. The Tories again called for water and Nancy again sent the daughter to the spring for water—and to blow the signal for Captain Hart. Nancy was thinking fast. Through a crack between the logs she slipped outside two of the five guns. When the third was being put out she was discovered, and the men sprang to their feet. In an instant Nancy brought the musket to her shoulder, declaring she would kill the first man that moved. Appalled by her audacity and fury, the men for a moment stood still; then one of them made a quick movement to advance on her. She shot him dead. Instantly seizing the other musket at her side she leveled it, keeping the others at bay. By this time the daughter returned from the spring and took the other gun out of the house, saying: "Father and the company will soon be here." This alarmed the Tories and they proposed a general rush. So Nancy fired and brought down another man dead at her feet. The daughter handed her another gun and Nancy, moving to the doorway, demanded surrender of the three living. "Yes, we will surrender, and let's shake hands on the strength of it." But Nancy did not shake hands. When Captain Hart and company arrived Nancy would not let them shoot, saying: "These prisoners have surrendered to me; they have murdered Colonel Dooly. I heard them say so." And George Dooly, brother of Colonel Dooly, and McCorkle followed and saw that the captured murderers were hanged.
John Hart, second son of Nancy, became an influential citizen of Athens. Nancy lived with him after the death of Capt. Hart. In 1787, when the two Virginia preachers, Thomas Humphries and John Majors, were holding a great campmeeting in Wilkes County, Nancy became a staunch adherent of the new faith and joined the church—Wesley's. She finally moved to Kentucky, where her relatives, the Morgans, lived. Hart County was named for her, and the town of Hartford, which in 1810 was the county seat of Pulaski.
By Marion Jackson Hall.
In the spring of 1728, a handful of sturdy Scotchmen started from Chelmart, Scotland, for America, "The Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave." Among these were the parents of the boy William Cleghorn, whose true story is herein narrated.
He was a frail lad and partly for the love of the sea and partly for his health, he enlisted in the Navy. We find him enrolled at Brunswick, N. C., September 8th, 1748, as a member of Capt. Samuel Corbin's Company. He proved a daring sailor, yet he was not so interested in the Navy but that he had time to fall desperately in love with sweet Thankful Dexter, of Falmouth.
Now, Thankful's father was a man of wealth, great wealth, for those days, and a son-in-law, with nothing to recommend him but good looks and a fine record as a daring sailor, did not appeal to him, but demure, sweet Thankful had a will of her own. She saw that young William was worthy of any woman's love, so never for an instant did she even think of giving him up.
As time went on our hero began to be a power in the colonies. He was interested in everything pertaining to their welfare. He soon began to prosper financially, and on February 12, 1782, we find recorded that he gave security for twenty thousand ($20,000.00) dollars, and took command of the ten-gun ship "Virginia." Rickerton, the historian, tells us in his history that our hero was "one of the earliest and most intelligent ship masters" but "all the world loves a lover," and I started to tell you chiefly about his love affair.
Thankful was always dreaming of William's bright, cheery face, and we may be sure she lost no opportunity to say to her worldly, bustling father, "Didn't I tell you so?" every time William brought new honors upon himself.
As time went on this energetic young man conceived the idea of building a sloop, which he did and named it the "Betsy." We wonder why he did not call it "The Thankful" but perhaps Thankful had something to say about that.
William loaded the "Betsy" with an immense cargo of oil and sailed around Cape Horn. This was the very first voyage ever made around the Cape, and can you not imagine how proud young William Cleghorn was? And can you not almost hear Thankful telling her father about the wonderful journey around Cape Horn?
The father was now convinced that William was not only valiant in war and a persistent lover, but that he was an excellent business man as well, so he withdrew his objections and Thankful Dexter became the happy wife of William Cleghorn.
We can almost see the radiant Thankful in her homespun gown and pertly poke bonnet, and the erect happy William with the air of a conquerer, coming side by side from the little church, through the narrow paths of Martha's Vineyard, to the home all ready for the happy couple, for William was now a well-to-do young man.
We must not take them all through life's journey, for this is to be a child's story, but alas for human joys, while on a visit to Boston in 1793, William Cleghorn was stricken with appoplexy and very suddenly passed away.
When you go to Boston, go out to the old Granary Cemetery, so well known by lovers of history, and inclosed in an iron railing you see a white stone standing alone. Draw near and read the inscription and you will see that there lies your hero, William, for on the stone you read:
Captain William Cleghorn
of
New Bedford.
Who died in a fit of appoplexy on a visit to this town,
February 24, 1793, in the 60th year of his age.
In the record of his will we find the following, which will show you how our ancestors made their wills:
Two mahogony tables, 1 square table, 16 leather bottom chairs, 1 mahogony desk, 7 looking glasses, 1 set of china (42 pieces), 1 coffee set (30 pieces), 34 linen sheets, 25 pair pillow cases, 1 pew in First Congregational Meeting House, 1 pew in Second Congregational House, etc., etc., besides a long list of notes and other properties.
This is very different from the wills of today, isn't it? I presume we have many boys as brave and true as William, and many girls as dear and sweet as Thankful, and perhaps one hundred years from now other boys and girls will be reading about some of you. So let us live in such a way that we may have our story written and enjoyed as is this true story of Thankful Dexter and William Cleghorn.—Evelyn Cleghorn Dimock Henry, Xavier Chapter, D. A. R., Rome, Ga.
Usually in discussion of blue laws, those very Draconian regulations which have so aroused the ire or the respect of moderns, depending upon which way they look at it, the debaters confine themselves mostly to New England Puritan forms, or those of New York, Pennsylvania or New Jersey.
In the days the Puritans formulated the blue laws, Virginia was looked upon as the home of high living and frivolity. Even to this day few would look for such measures among that old aristocratic colony.
As a matter of fact, the Virginians of the seventeenth century, had a habit of enacting indigo-tinted laws, and likewise enforcing them, which might have made the Puritans sit up late at night to beat them.
Aside from the stern and vindictive intolerance which finds utterance in the acts of the Virginia Assembly between the years 1662 and 1680, the most striking element in them is the tremendous premium placed upon spying and informing. In most every case in which such a reward is possible the law encouraged the man to spy upon his neighbor.
If the Virginia husbands agreed with Kipling that "a woman is only a woman, but a good cigar is a smoke," the following act must have been the occasion of much domestic infelicity.
"If a married woman shall slander a person the woman shall be punished by ducking, and if the damages shall be adjudged more than 500 pounds of tobacco her husband shall pay, or the woman receive a ducking for every 500 pounds so adjudged against her husband if he refused to pay the tobacco."
Unless a man was well stocked with the divine weed it was worth while to attend church with promptness and regularity:
"Enacted that the Lord's Day be kept holy and no journeys or work done thereon, and all persons inhabiting in this country shall resort every Sunday to church and abide there quietly and orderly during the common prayers and preaching, upon the penalty of being fined fifty pounds of tobacco."
Devices for public instruction and amusement were not to be neglected with impunity, even by the courts of the colony, as witness the following:
"The Court in every county shall set up near the courthouse, in a public and convenient place, a pillory, a pair of stocks, a whipping post and a ducking stool. Otherwise the Court shall be fined 5,000 pounds of tobacco."
There is no record of the Court ever having been mulcted of tobacco for depriving the people of the opportunity to watch the sufferings of their friends and neighbors.
Severe laws were directed against Quakers. Prior legislation had attempted to put a damper on being any kind of a "separatist," which meant any fellow who didn't agree with the Established Church. Evidently a little further law on the subject was thought necessary, for in 1663 the Virginia Assembly passed the following act:
"Any person inhabiting this country, and entertaining a Quaker in or near his house, shall, for every time of such entertainment, be fined 5,000 pounds of tobacco, half to the county, half to the informer."
Even Virginia hospitality might well have paused in the face of such a flying start toward bankruptcy.
That a stowaway might prove costly is demonstrated by the following:
"Every master of a vessel that shall bring any Quakers to reside here after July 1 of this year shall be fined 5,000 pounds of tobacco, to be levied by distress and sale of his goods, and he then shall be made to carry him, her or them out of the country again."
Evidently a little thing like a couple of years in servitude did not deter the lovers of pork chops from appropriating their neighbors' swine, for in 1679 the Assembly delivered themselves of the following act:
"The first offense of hog stealing shall be punished according to the former law; upon a second offense the offender shall stand for two hours in the pillory and shall lose his ears, and for the third offense shall be tried by the laws of England as in case of felony."
As the English law of the period usually prescribed hanging for a twice convicted felon, it is presumed that the third dose of justice proved an efficient remedy.
Not only in the stringency of their laws did the gray cavaliers of the Old Dominion run neck and neck with the grim-visaged gentry of Plymouth Rock, but the doubtful honor of being the last to relinquish the gentle art of witchcraft persecution probably belongs to them as well.
The witchbaiters around Salem and throughout New England generally ceased to a considerable extent their punishment for alleged witchcraft before the eighteenth century, but the Virginian records show the arrest and persecution of Grace Sherwood, of Princess Anne County, for witchcraft in 1706.
For six months this young woman was imprisoned, being brought time and again before the court in an effort to convict her. Finding no evidence in her actions to justify the persecution, the Attorney-General caused the Sheriff of the county to impanel a jury of women to examine Grace Sherwood physically and instructed them to find something to indicate that she was a witch. This the women failed to do and they were threatened with contempt of court for their failure.
Everything else having failed, it was decided to put Miss Sherwood to the water test, which consisted in tying her hands and feet and throwing her overboard in the nearest lake or river. If she sank she was innocent, but if by her struggles she managed to keep afloat for a few moments, she was guilty of witchcraft.
The full account of this trial is preserved by the Virginia Historical Society, and the last two court orders in the case are of interest as marking the close of witchcraft persecution in the colonies.
"Whereas, Grace Sherwood, being suspected of witchcraft, have a long time waited for a fit opportunity for a further examination, & by her consent & approbacon of ye court, it is ordered that ye sheriff take all such convenient assistance of boats and men and shall be by him thought fit to meet at Jno. Harpers plantation, in order to take ye Grace Sherwood forthwith and BUTT her into the water above a man's debth & try her how she swims therein, always having care of her life to preserve her from drowning, & as soon as she comes out that he request as many antient and knowing women as possible he can to search her carefully for all spottes & marks about her body not usuall on others, & that as they find the same to make report on oath to ye truth thereof to ye court, and further it is ordered that some woman be requested to shift and search her before she goes into ye water, that she carry nothing about her to cause further suspicion."
On the afternoon of July 10, 1706, the court and county officers and populace assembled on John Harper's plantation, and the arrangements being completed, Grace Sherwood was carried out to a nearby inlet of Lynnhaven Bay. The official court reporter tells quaintly the rest of the story:
"Whereas, on complaint of Luke Hill in behalf of her Magisty, that now is against Grace Sherwood for a person suspected of witchcraft, & having had sundry evidences sworn against her, proving manny cercumstances, & which, she could not make any excuse or little or nothing to say in her own behalf, only seeming too rely on what ye court should do, and thereupon consented to be tried in ye water, & likewise to be serched againe with expermints; being tried, and she swimming when therein & bound, contray to custom and ye judgments of all ye spectators, & afterwards being searched by five antient women who have all declared on oath that she is not like them; all of which cercumstances ye court weighing in their consideracon, do therefore order that ye sheriff take ye said Grace Sherwood into his custody & comit her body to ye common goal of this county, there to secure her by irons, or otherwise there to remain till such time as he shall be otherwise directed."
The woman was finally turned free, and thus ended the last legal prosecution for witchcraft in the colony.
By Mrs. John H. Morgan, Regent Brunswick Chapter, D. A. R.
It is to be regretted that our historians have given so little space to one of our Georgia patriots of the Revolution—Elijah Clarke. One of our greatest national needs is that of commemorating the memories of our men who "did greatly," who fought, suffered and endured for our national independence. This is one of the prime objects of the existence of the Society of the Daughters of the American Revolution; "To perpetuate the memory of the Spirit of the men who achieved American Independence."
Among the many contributed to this great cause by Georgia, was Elijah Clarke. After the fall of Georgia, for the time being, many of our most distinguished men became voluntary exiles among their "brethren" in the West. Among the most prominent of these was Colonel Clarke; one to whom our liberty and the justness of the cause was dear.
He did not give up hope; for his heart was filled with the desire to return and renew the contest. He employed his entire time in the preparation of a sufficient force that would enable him to return when the opportunity should present itself.
Augusta was the key to the northern part of the state, and its possession was of great importance to our patriots. Upon hearing that the time for the arrival of the annual Indian presents was near, the desire to recover Augusta became, to Colonel Clarke, irresistible. He immediately set about collecting troops and his arguments were so successful that in a very short time five hundred enthusiastic warriors and men from the hills were assembled and marched to Augusta.
Upon their arrival, the division under Major Taylor attacked the Indian camp on Hawks Gully, thereby drawing the British under Colonel Thomas Brown to the support of the Indian allies, leaving the south and west of the city unguarded. Colonel Clarke entered at the points, with the remainder of his army, captured the garrison and finally, driving out Colonel Brown, occupied the town.
The British under Colonel Brown, after being driven out of Augusta, took refuge in a strong house called Seymour's White House, which they had fortified.
Colonel Clarke besieged them and was on the point of capturing them, after a four days siege, when Col. Cruger, coming with another British force compelled Clarke to retreat.
Lord Cornwallis ordered Colonel Ferguson to intercept Colonel Clarke. Just as Col. Ferguson started to carry out these orders, he heard that a new enemy was approaching, for the very purpose of doing just what Colonel Clarke had failed to do. This force consisted of rifle militia and had been drawn from Kentucky, the western country of Virginia and North Carolina, and was under the command of the famous independent colonels, Campbell, Cleveland, Williams, Sevier and Shelby. Upon hearing of Clarke's repulse and of Ferguson's orders to intercept Clarke, they gave up their enterprise on Colonel Brown, and turned against Ferguson; which ended in a crushing defeat for the British and the destruction of Colonel Ferguson at King's Mountain.
"Although Clarke failed in the reduction of Augusta, his attempt led to the destruction of Ferguson; and with it to the present relief of North Carolina." Such is the testimony of "Light Horse" Harry Lee, his companion in arms, and the father of our beloved General Robert E. Lee.
General Clarke, as he became, was brave and patriotic, and his services during the Revolution were valuable to the country, and deserve the recognition of his state. He died December 15th, 1799—one day after the death of Washington.
"Poor is the nation that boasts no heroes, but beggared is that country that having them, forgets."
General Clarke was one of Georgia's heroes. Let us honor him.
The subject of this sketch is General Francis Marion and a pleasant duty it is to revive the memory of this almost forgotten hero who was one of the most famous warriors of the American Revolution. General Nathaniel Greene had often been heard to say that the page of history had never furnished his equal.
He was born near Georgetown, South Carolina, of French parents, who were refugees to this country after the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes. From them he inherited that love of liberty which had caused them to forsake home and friends and commence a new life among strangers that they might enjoy freedom of thought and action at King's Mountain.
He manifested early in life a love of adventure. His first warlike experience was against the Indians. He served as a Lieutenant of volunteers. In his encounters with the savages he showed such courage and skill that he soon became famous, and to his credit, it must be said, he was always humane and just.
When war was declared against England and troops had to be raised, Marion received a Captain's commission. He went forth to raise a company. Money was lacking and he had to depend entirely on volunteers. He very soon, however, succeeded in getting his complement of men and was unexcelled in his dealings with these raw recruits. He could enter into their feelings and appreciate their conduct. He did not exact impossibilities of them and he was celebrated for what was called his patience with the militia.
No service was ever more strictly voluntary than that of those who constituted the company known as "Marion's Men" and he led them to perform deeds of valor which seem almost incredible. There was an air of mysterious daring in what he undertook, which gave a charm to the life his followers led, while they had the most perfect confidence in their leader. Insubordination was rare among his men on account of their devotion to him. If it did occur he usually visited it by dismissal from his band. This ignominy was dreaded more than any other mode of punishment. He seldom resorted to the military methods of severe discipline. His band was composed largely of the planters, and some of them were boys who lived in the section of the country where his daring exploits harrassed so severely the British. These men were devoted to field sports and were consequently fine riders and marksmen.
Marion and his men are connected with the most romantic adventures of the Revolution, equal to any we have read of in song or story. The writer has often listened with intense interest to the accounts given by her grandfather of the recitals of his party. William Pope, who was one of "Marion's Men," tells of the many hazardous undertakings against the British and Tories. The famous rides at night when they would leave their hidden places in the swamps, or some forest so densely wooded that they alone knew the trails by which they found their way in and out; how they would start on one of their swift rides to intercept the passing of British troops from one post to another or attack an army wagon train with provisions and ammunition, etc. The descent of Marion and his men would be so sudden that the enemy would be completely demoralized.
Marion kept bands of scouts constantly watching the enemy and by this means he was enabled to give our army most valuable information.
At one time our hero and his men learning of the encampment of some British troops near a river, started out to attack them at midnight. They had to ride many miles to reach the river and in crossing the bridge the noise of the horses aroused the sentinels of the enemy and they were prepared for resistance. The fight which ensued was a fierce one, but ever after that experience, when Marion found it necessary to cross a bridge, he made the men dismount and spread their blankets over the bridge to muffle the sound of the horses feet. It was a rule with him never to use a bridge when he could ford a river, and he burned all bridges for which he had no use. These long rapid rides were exhausting to man and beasts. They returned as rapidly as they went forth and when they reached their place of safety, they would secure their horses, throw themselves on the ground with only a blanket and a saddle for a pillow and sleep so soundly they would be unconscious of the falling rain and often awaken in the morning to find themselves surrounded by water. Amid all these scenes of hardship there were times when this band of devoted patriots indulged in revelry, as they were safely gathered around the camp fires among the lofty moss-draped cypress trees and gum trees of the swamps to enjoy the captured supplies from the enemy's commissary stores, which enabled them to supply themselves with clothing, arms and ammunition. Thus they largely provided for their own subsistence by their daring prowess.
The British established a line of military posts in South Carolina extending from Georgetown to Charleston. They found it exceedingly difficult to hold any communication, for Marion's scouts were always on the lookout to report their movements. Colonel Watson, of the enemy, attempted to take a regiment from one post to another. He was so harrassed by the sharpshooting of "Marion's Men" who lay in ambush along his route, that he sent a letter by flag of truce to Marion reproaching him for fighting like a savage and invited him to come out in open field and fight like a gentleman. But Marion was too shrewd to put in open field his comparatively small band, with their peculiar mode of warfare, against a far greater number of finely drilled regulars of the enemy and Colonel Watson had to retreat and encamp his men in the first open field he could find.
Marion had a number of interviews by flag of truce with British officers. One of the most noted is the one in which he entertained the officer at dinner. After business affairs had been settled General Marion invited the officer to dine with him and he accepted. Marion ordered dinner. The officer looked around with curiosity as he saw no preparations for dinner and his surprise was great when the cook placed before him on a piece of bark a few sweet potatoes which had been roasted in the fire near by. The officer remarked to Marion that he supposed his supplies had fallen short, endeavoring to relieve Marion of any embarrassment he thought he might feel in offering him such meager fare, but Marion replied that he considered himself fortunate, as he had a guest that day, he had that much to offer him. The officer was amazed and profoundly impressed with what he had seen. He returned to his command with such feelings of admiration and respect for men who endured so cheerfully such privations and so many hardships for the sake of liberty, that he said it was useless to fight such men, that they were entitled to liberty and he would not continue to fight against them. He resigned his commission in the army.
The enemy at this time had absolute command of this portion of South Carolina excepting as they were disturbed by Marion. He shifted from swamp to swamp and thicket to thicket and never relaxed his struggle for liberty. So harrassed were the enemy by him, they determined a number of times to make a special effort to capture him or drive him out of the state. All in vain. Marion was too alert and often met them with more promptness than they desired.
Colonel Tarleton, a British officer, with a reputation for great activity undertook one of these expeditions against Marion and narrowly escaped being captured himself. He retreated from his attack exclaiming to his men "Come on boys, we will go back, there is no catching this 'Swamp Fox'." By this same name he was ever afterward called by his followers.
When Gen. Nathaniel Greene took command of the Southern Army, he wrote to General Marion and begged him to remain in his independent position and keep the army supplied with intelligence, in which important part he rendered most active service, also in the battles of Georgetown, Ninety Six, Charleston, Savannah and others. So highly appreciated by the Government was the brave and valuable part performed by Marion and his men, that Congress passed a series of resolutions expressing the gratitude of the country to them.
Governor Rutledge appointed him Brigadier-General. In addition to the usual military rank, extraordinary powers were conferred upon him, such as were only granted to extraordinary men.
In the circumstances of life, there was a remarkable resemblance between him and the great Washington. They were both volunteers in the service of their country. They learned the military art in Indian warfare. They were both soldiers so vigilant that no enemy could ever surprise them and so equal in undaunted valor that nothing could disturb them, and even in the private incidents of their lives, the resemblance between these two great men was closer than common. They were both born in the same year, both lost fathers early in life, both married excellent, wealthy wives, both left widows and both died childless.
In reviewing the life of Gen. Marion, we find patient courage, firmness in danger, resolution in adversity, hardy endurance amid suffering and want. He lived that liberty might not die and never relinquished his sword until the close of the war. He then retired to his plantation near Eutaw, where he died. His last words were: "Thank God, since I have come to man's estate, I have never intentionally done wrong to any man."
Marion's remains are in the church yard at Belle Isle in the parish of St. John's Berkely. Over them is a marble slab upon which is the following inscription:
"Sacred to the memory of Brigadier-General Francis Marion, who departed this life on the twenty-ninth of February, 1795, in the sixty-third year of his age, deeply regretted by all of his fellow citizens. History will recall his worth and rising generations will embalm his memory as one of the most distinguished patriots and heroes of the American Revolution; who elevated his native country to honor and independence and accrued to her the blessings and liberty of peace." This tribute of veneration and gratitude is erected in commemoration of the noble and distinguished virtues of the citizen and of the gallant exploits of the soldier who lived without fear and died without reproach.
This brief and imperfect sketch of one of the most noted military men of his day has led to the reflection that many of the most valiant leaders of the Revolution are comparatively little known among the rising generation. The old histories written in the early part of this century which recorded their brilliant deeds and virtues, are out of print, a few to be found in old libraries, and the old readers which were used in the schools forty and fifty years ago were full of the accounts of their achievements, which thrilled the hearts of the students and stimulated in them a love of country, as only such deeds of valor could inspire. But today these heroes who taught us such lessons of patriotism have passed away forgotten, others scarcely a memory. Ought it to be so?
As our society is for the purpose of advancing the cause of patriotism, no effort on the part of its members would do more to bring this about than for some of them situated in different parts of our country to unite in collecting material for a new reader for the use of schools in which the deeds of these revolutionary patriots would be once more revived and made conspicuous to those who should ever hold them in grateful veneration.
This thought is one that might advantageously engage the attention of some national publisher who might employ compilers from different localities of our country for this purpose.
Among the "Readers" alluded to, was a tribute to Gen. Marion and his men, which was at the same time a graphic account of their lives and services. It was written by one of our favorable national poets, William Cullen Bryant, and was a favorite selection for declamation among American juvenile orators many years ago. It has disappeared from the modern editions of "Readers," but would fitly embellish a new "American Speaker," a book which would be popular throughout our land in these days of Sons and Daughters of the Revolution.
This suggestion will be enhanced by the reproduction of the ringing lines with which this article will close:
SONG OF MARION'S MEN.
—Mrs. F. H. Orme, Atlanta Chapter, D. A. R.
The Lee family was illustrious both in England and America. They clearly trace their ancestry to the Norman Conquest, Launcelot Lee being the founder of the family. The Lees were prominent in English history down to the colonization of this country. Robert E. Lee is descended from Richard Lee, a younger son of the Earl of Litchfield, who was sent to this country in 1641 during the reign of Charles I. He came as colonial secretary under Sir William Berkeley. He was loyal to the royal party during the struggle between the Cavaliers and Roundheads. Richard Lee, second son of the Richard mentioned above, was born in Virginia in 1646 and educated in England and studied law. He took an active part in colonial legislation. His son, Thomas, was the first to establish himself in Westmoreland County. He was very prominent in the early history of the state. The fine mansion of Stratford was built for him by the East India company, and several of the prominent Lees were born in that home. Henry Lee, the son of Richard Lee, filled no prominent place in colonial history. He married a Miss Bland and had three children, the second son being Henry, who married a Miss Grymes in 1753. He left six sons and five daughters, the third son being Henry, the ancestor of R. E. Lee. He went to Princeton and was preparing to study law when hostilities with England changed his plans. When quite young he raised a company of cavalry and soon after the battle of Lexington joined Washington's forces. He soon became noted as an able leader and was promoted to the rank of lieutenant-colonel and had command of "Lee's Legion," consisting of infantry and cavalry. He was actively engaged in the service to the close of the war and was conspicuous in this state for some time. Owing to his rapid movements he was known as "Light Horse Harry." About 1781 he married his cousin, a daughter of Colonel Philip Ludwell Lee, of Stratford. Four children were born to them, all of whom died except one son. The wife died in 1790. He was elected to congress and afterwards was governor of Virginia. He next married Miss Anne Hill Carter, daughter of Charles Carter, of Shirley. He again entered political life and was elected to the general assembly. The children of his second marriage were Charles Carter, Sidney Smith, Robert E., Anne and Mildred. Robert Edward Lee was born in the Stratford mansion in which two signers of the Declaration of Independence were born. In 1811 Henry Lee moved to Alexandria to educate his children. Here he was made major-general during the war of 1812. He was the author of "First in war, first in peace, first in the hearts of his countrymen," when pronouncing a eulogy on Washington. His health failed in 1817 and he was induced to make a trip to the West Indies, but finding that he was not benefited, he returned and landed on the coast of Georgia, where he enjoyed the hospitality of a daughter of his old friend, General Nathaniel Greene, who was living in the family residence on Cumberland Island. After lingering a short time he died and was buried there, March 25, 1818.
General A. C. Long wrote the memoirs of R. E. Lee. He publishes an incident which occurred in 1862, when Lee was sent to this state to examine our lines and means of defense. General Long accompanied him. When they reached Savannah General Lee secured a vessel and went to Cumberland Island. He had the boat anchored and the two went on shore. They entered the old Greene mansion, which was in bad condition. Going through that to the rear, General Lee went alone to an old neglected cemetery. After that he returned with a flower in his hand, but never spoke a word about the visit to his father's grave. In silence he showed his reverence; with his usual modesty he refrained from speaking about it. From that old cemetery on Cumberland Island the body of "Light Horse Harry" Lee, ninety-five years after his death, was carried back to his old Virginia home and laid in its final resting place.
—Hannah A. Foster in American Monthly Magazine.
In the prologue to "The Princess," Tennyson makes one of the group of collegemates assembled during the holiday season at Vivian Place find in an old chronicle the story of a brave woman whom a wild king besieged. But she armed
When this story was read to the ladies present, one of the men asked: "Where lives there such a woman now?" To which
On the first day of February, 1776, General McDonald, chief of the McDonald clan in the Cape Fear region, issued a proclamation, calling upon all true and loyal Highlanders to join his standard at Cross Creek, now Fayetteville, and prepare to assist General Clinton and Governor Martin in maintaining the king's authority in the province of North Carolina. About fifteen or sixteen hundred of them obeyed the summons. From Cross Creek they marched down the Cape Fear River until they came to Moore's creek, where they were met on February 27th by a Whig force about a thousand strong under the command of Richard Caswell, The following from a letter from Caswell to Cornelius Harnett shows the result of the meeting:
"I have the pleasure to acquaint you that we had an engagement with the Tories, at Widow Moore's creek bridge, on the 27th current. Our army was about one thousand strong, consisting of the Newbern Battalion of Minute Men, the militia from Craven, Johnston, Dobbs and Wake, and a detachment of the Wilmington Battalion of Minute Men, which we found encamped at Moore's Creek the night before the battle, under the command of Colonel Lillington. The Tories by common report were three thousand, but General MacDonald, whom we have prisoner, says there were about fifteen or sixteen hundred; he was unwell that day and not in the battle. Captain McLeod, who seemed to be principal commander, and Captain John Campbell, are among the slain."
This was the first pitched battle of the Revolution won by the Whigs; the only victories of an earlier date being the capture of Forts Ticonderoga and Crown Point on May 10, 1775. It would be difficult to overestimate the importance of the victory. Besides the capture of about 900 prisoners and 2,000 stands of arms of which the Americans stood in great need, the crushing of the Tory spirit and the corresponding rise of the Whig spirit, meant untold strength to the cause of freedom.
But it is not the political nor the military result of this battle with which this story is to deal. With the foregoing as an introduction, it is interesting now to turn to the story of the heroine of Moore's creek, Mary Slocumb.
Mary Slocumb was the young wife of Ezekiel Slocumb, of Wayne County. He afterwards became a prominent member of the house of commons, serving in the session of 1812 to 1818. She was but yet a girl when her husband rode away from home to join Caswell in crushing McDonald and the enemies of liberty. The men of that section, more than eighty strong, rode away one calm Sunday morning, under the lead of Slocumb. Before the long ride was begun, his young wife went out with the colonel to inspect the men. She says that she looked at them well, and could see that every man meant mischief. No doubt it was a sturdy, stern and determined band that rode away that day to battle for their rights. These men rode away in high spirits, some to a glorious death, some to a glorious victory; none to defeat or dishonor.
It is easy to imagine what a long, lonely day the young wife had at home that quiet Sabbath day; it is easy to imagine where her thoughts were; it is easy to imagine how she concealed the anxiety of her heart under the assumed cheerfulness of her face. "I slept soundly and quietly that night," she says, "and worked hard all the next day; but I kept thinking where they had got to, how far, where and how many of the regulars and Tories they would meet; and I could not keep from that study."
Going to bed in this anxious state of mind, her sleep was disturbed by a terrible dream. She seemed to see lying on the ground, surrounded by the dead and wounded, a body, motionless, bloody, ghostly, wrapped in her husband's cloak. With a cry of alarm she sprang to her feet into the middle of the room. So vivid was the impression that it remained with her even after she awakened from sleep and in rushing forward to the place where the vision appeared, she ran into the side of the house. The light was dim; all around was quiet and peaceful, but her heart kept up a great commotion. "If ever I felt fear," she says, "it was at that moment." The more she reflected on the vision the more vivid and more fearful it became, until at last she could bear the suspense no longer and starting up she said aloud:
"I must go to him."
In the stable was her favorite and own particular horse, "as fleet and easy a nag as ever traveled." In an instant, leaving her baby and the house in the care of the nurse, she rushed out to the barn, saddled her mare, and in less time than it takes to tell it, was flying down the road at full speed.
The night air was cool; the spirit of the race was in the nag; and mile after mile was quickly left behind, as the sound of her rapidly falling hoofs fell clear and distinct in the quiet night air. All alone, urged onward by love and fear, this brave little woman swept on through the dark night, dashing over bridges, whirling through dark woods, flashing past farm houses, until when the sun began to appear in the east thirty miles lay between her and her quiet home. Shortly after sunrise she passed a group of women and children anxiously awaiting news from the troops. From these she learned the exact route taken by Caswell and with only a few minutes' stop she was again skimming over the ground. There was no flagging in her spirits, nor those of the mare. On the contrary, the excitement became more and more intense the nearer they got to the end of their journey. It seemed as if the woman had infused her spirits into the horse.
The sun was well up when a new excitement was added to the race—she heard a sound like thunder rolling and rumbling in the distance. She pulled her mare up suddenly. What was it? Though she had never heard the sound before, she knew it must be the roar of the cannon; and as she thought of what it meant, the blood coursed more rapidly than ever through her veins; she was more than ever impatient to be on the scene, and away she dashed again. But then a thought rushed into her mind that for a moment made her feel very foolish to be here so far away from home and child, on what might after all be but a fool's errand.
"What a fool I am," she thought. "My husband could not be dead last night, if the battle is only fighting now."
But she had come too far now to turn back and so she pressed on faster than before. As she drew nearer, she could hear the roar of the deadly muskets, the fatal rifles, and the triumphant shouts of the victors. But from which side did they come? Did those shouts mean the defeat of her husband; or did they mean his triumph? This was the most trying moment of all—this terrible suspense. If it was his victory, then he would rejoice to have her share his glory; if his defeat, then he would need her to soothe his sufferings; so on she pressed to share with him weal or woe. Crossing the Wilmington road a few hundred yards below the bridge, she saw a clump of trees under which were lying perhaps twenty wounded men. What was this she saw? Her blood froze in her veins; her heart leapt to her mouth, for there was the vision realized. The scene before her—she knew it as well as if she had seen it a thousand times; the spot, the trees, the position of the men, the groans of the wounded, and her sight fell upon a body lying in the midst of the group, her brain became dizzy, and the world seemed whirling around her at the rate of ten thousand miles a second—there lay a body, motionless, bloody, ghostly, wrapped in her husband's cloak. Her whole soul became centered in that one spot. "How I passed from my saddle to this place I never knew," she said afterwards; but in some way she succeeded in reaching the body, and mechanically uncovered the head. She saw before her an unrecognizable face crusted with dust and blood from a gash across the temple. What a relief to her aching heart was the strange voice which begged her for a drink of water! Her senses came back to her at once so she was able to minister to the sufferer's wants. She gave him a swallow as she held the drooping head in her lap; and with what remained of the water, bathed the dirt and gore from the face. From the ghastly crust came the pale face of one of her neighbors, Frank Cogdell. Under the gentle care of his nurse, he revived enough to speak, and when she attempted to dress the wound on the head, he managed to gasp out:
"It's not that; it's the hole in my leg that's killing me."
Lifting the wounded leg from the puddle of blood in which it lay she gently cut away the trousers and stockings and found a shot hole through the fleshy part of the limb. What nerve it must have taken for this young girl, unused to such work, alone, without help or advice, to go through with the painful ordeal. But she was of the stuff of which North Carolina moulds her heroes, and she did not flinch from her duty. Gathering a handful of heart leaves, the only thing in sight suitable for binding the wound, she tied these tight to the hole and the bleeding stopped. No sooner had she completed this pressing duty, than she turned to others of the unfortunate men who lay in pain and need and, as she says, "dressed the wounds of many a brave fellow who did good fighting long after that day." During all this time, the first anxiety for her husband relieved, she had not had time to make inquiries after him, but with true heroism devoted herself to the more pressing duties of the moment. While she was busily engaged in bringing home to these poor fellows the blessings of a woman's care, General Caswell rode up. With great surprise at seeing Mrs. Slocumb, he raised his hat and was about to address her with a compliment, when she interrupted him with the question:
"Where is my husband?"
"Where he ought to be, madam; in pursuit of the enemy. But pray, how came you here?"
"Oh," she replied, carelessly, "I thought you would need nurses as well as soldiers. See! I have dressed many of these good fellows." Then pointing to Frank Cogdell, she continued, "Here is one who would have died before any of you men could have helped him." As she spoke she lifted Frank's head in her arms and gave him a drink of water. When she raised her head, there before her stood her astonished husband, "as bloody as a butcher and as muddy as a ditcher."
"Why, Mary," he exclaimed, "what are you doing there, hugging Frank Cogdell, the greatest reprobate in the army?"
"I don't care," she cried. "Frank is a brave fellow, a good soldier and a true friend of congress."
"True, true, every word of it," exclaimed Caswell, who stood by much amused at the scene. "You are right, madam," with a bow that would have shamed Chesterfield himself.
Mrs. Slocumb says she could not tell her husband what had brought her there. "I was so happy," she says, "and so were all. It was a glorious victory; I came just at the height of the enjoyment. I knew my husband was surprised, but I could see that he was not displeased with me."
It was of course long into the night before the excitement subsided. The news spread like wild fire, and the Whigs all over the country heard it with rejoicing and thanksgiving; and everywhere the news of the victory was heard, went also the story of the heroine, her brave ride, her heaven-sent aid, her soothing care of the wounded and suffering. Many a soldier breathed a prayer of thanks for the vision which came to her and for her courageous response. But the prettiest side of the story is the simple and unaffected way in which she looked upon her act. Nothing of force or beauty can be added to her own simple and touching words about her return home. After staying in camp long enough to offer intercession in behalf of the unfortunate prisoners and to receive assurance from Caswell that they would be well treated, she prepared to start home. "In the middle of the night," she says simply, without thinking apparently of her course, "I again mounted my mare, and started home. Caswell and my husband wanted me to stay till next morning and they would send a party with me, but no! I wanted to see my child, and told them they could send no party that could keep up with me. What a happy ride I had back! and with what joy did I embrace my child as he ran to meet me!"
This is a story full of meaning and significance to him who loves his state; who admires her noble women, and brave men; who glories in her heroic deeds and great achievements. As long as the old North State can produce such women as Mary Slocumb, she need entertain no fears as to what her men will be.—R. D. W. Connor, Wilmington, N. C., in American Monthly Magazine.