Land we love, a monthly magazine devoted to literature, military history, and agriculture.

              THE LAND WE LOVE.
NO. V, SEPTEMBER, 1867. VOL. Ill
STOYALL'S BRIGADE AT JACKSOX, MISSISSIPPI, JULY 12tH, 1863.
Editor of "The Land ave Love:"
lu the issue of your interesting
periodical, for June, we have read
with much pleasure, an article
entitled, " .Sketch of General B.
H. Helm." In correcting one
•misapprehension of the author,
we beg that our motives may not
be misconstrued.
I would not wittingly abate one
Jot from the well-earned trophies
which illustrate the career of
General Helm. Biit his brow is
too rich with laurels for it to
assume a modest garland, which
rightfully belongs to one of his
brothers-in-arms.
Speaking of General Johnston's
operations around Jackson, Miss-issippi,
in July 1863, the article
on page 166 proceeds:
" On Sunday the 12th of July,
an attack was made upon Helm's
line, the heat was intense, the
Confederates were exhausted by
their long march, and seemingly
unfit for the unequal contest, but
the dauntless spirits of brave Ken-tuckians
never quailed, and now
led by their valiant commander,
they repulsed the enemy with a
VOL. III.—NO. Y.
loss of two hundred men, and
three stands of colors."
The attack referred to was made
by five regiments of the enemy,
not upon Helm's, but upon the
line of Brigadier General M. A.
Stovall, commanding a brigade
composed of the 1st, 3rd and 4th
Florida, 60th Xorth Carolina and
47th Georgia regiments, and its
object was the capture of Cobb's
battery, which was then reporting
to General Stovall, and which his
brigade was then supportino-.—
General Helm's brigade was in
line to the left of Stovall, and his
gallant Iventuckians, were unable
to do more than look on and
cheer—Avhich they did vociferous-ly—
at the repulse of the enemy,
with a loss of some two hundred
killed, two hundred and fifty
captured, and ^fe stands of colors.
Four of these stands of colors,
taken by the 1st, 3rd and 4th
Florida, and 47th Georgia reo-i-ments,
together with Cobb and
Slocumb's artillery, were in the
name of these commands, pre-sented
by General Stovall through
25
366 Stovall's Brigade. [Sept.
Major General Breckinridge, the
division commander, to General
Joseph E. Johnston. The reply
of General .Johnston with the en-dorsement
of General Breckin-ridge,
has been kept by General
Stovall. As a matter of interest
we append a copy
:
Jackson, July 1-2x11, 1863,
12 M.
General:
I have learned with high satis-faction
the success of your troops
this morning. It increases my
confidence in your gallant divis-ion.
I beg you to say it for nie.
Do me the kindness also to ex-press
to the 1st, 3rd and 4th
Florida regiments, the pride and
pleasure with which I accept the
splendid trophies they have pre-sented
me. -\.ssure them that I
equally appreciate the soldierly
courage and kindly feeling to my-self,
which have gained me these
noble compliments.
Respectfully and truly,
Your ob't. serv't:
J. E. JOHNSTON,
General.
To Mai. Gen. Breckinridge.
Endorsed.
These flags were handed me
with statement, that one Avas
taken by 4th Florida, one by 47tli
Georgia and one by 1st and 3rd
Florida, and one by the artillery,
(Cobb and Slocumb"s.)
I sent a verbal message with
the flags to the General. By
some mistake, the 47th Georgia
and artillery are not mentioned,
but General Stovall will explain it.
J. C. Bkeckinkidge,
Major General.
To Bris;. Gen. Stovall.
Under the operation of a July
sun, the bodies of the enemy de-composed
with inconceivable rap-idity.
The stench along the
line of Stovall's brigade, in two
days, became insufterable. An
arrangement was made thereupon
for their burial. The following
letter, with endorsements, formed
the credentials of the Federals-
Avho engaged in this labor, and
was handed to General Stovall.
—
We give it a place here, as also a
subject which may afford an in-terest
to these images.
Head-quarters, «S:c.,
July 14th, 1863, 12, M.
General Ord,
Dear General:
General Johnston has sent out
a flag of truce, asking three hours-to
bury our dead. Firing will
cease all along our lines until 4
p. m., at which time the pickets
will resume their places, and firing
resume. I have assured General
Johnston that if he will permit
two or three subordinate ofticers-of
the regiments engaged to re-cognize
the dead, he would oblige
us, and that if he is willing, we
will collect the dead and bury
them. You may send forward a
small part}^ making the same
offer, at the point where the dead
lie. I am, &c.,
W. T. Sherman,
Maj. Gen. Com'd'g.
Endorsed.
General Hovey:
You can send the party indi-cated
herein, and make the de-tails,
if the matter is arranged.
E. O. C. Ord,
Maj. Gen'l., «S:c.
Endorsed.
1867..] Roman Catacomhs. 367
Head-quarters,
1-2TH Div. 13 A. C.
July 14th, 1863.
Colonel Pughilst Illinois Vol's.
with three commissioned officers
and twenty men will visit the
iield of action, where the dead
are, and ifpermitted,bury our dead.
Alink p. Hovey,
Brig. Gen'l' Com'd'g.
Right Wing.
I am, General, very Respectfully
,
your ob't. serv't:
Jxo. P. C. Whitehead, Jr.,
Late A. A. G. Stovall's Brig.
ROMAN catacombs.
If your inspection of Rome has
confined itself only to her monu-jnental
and artistic treasures,
you have still left a most inter-esting
portion unexplored.
—
There is a silent city which ex-tends
its ramifications under busy
life above, having its history, its
monuments, and associations
fraught with interest, the most
profound. I allude to the Cata-combs.
The origin of these
sepulchral chambers has been
keenly disputed. The excavations
in which they began, were most
certainly made for the purpose of
digging out the volcanic earth,
used for building by the ancients,
as it is still by the moderns.
—
There can be little question that
these quarries and caves were an-cient,
long before the cradle of
the twins of Rome floated among
the reeds of the Tiber, or the
udders of the she-wolf gave down
the strengthening milk that
nourished the founders of the
seven-hilled city. The cities that
once crowded the Campagna were
built, no doubt, out of the ma-terials
taken from these quarries.
When the Romans obtained a foot-hold
on the banks of the Tiber,
and began to erect temples,
forums, baths and dwellings, then
the demand for this volcanic earth
increased, and so it continued
under the magnificent reigns of
the Twelve Ceesars, down to the
time when the Romans left off"
quarrying, and turned to destroy-ing
old buildings, to find materials
for new.
These caves or excavations
seem to have been used as early
as the first century of our era, by
the early Christians as hiding
places. Pagan superstition had
pointed out these desolate places,
these dark and deep excavations
as the spots haunted by Canidia,
and her weird sister old Sagana.
Of course, they were shunned by
the superstitious Romans, and
this therefore made them a more
secure place of concealment for
the Christians. The Christians
at first interred in them no other
bodies, but those of their martyrs,
which they were often forced to
conceal from their persecutors.
—
It has been very j^lausibly con-jectured
that many of the work-men
employed in the excavations
368 Boman Catacombs. [Sept.,
being Christians, first suggested
to their fellow-worshippers, at
Rome, the use of these retreats
for the observance of their re-ligious
rites; thus guarding them
in those recesses, which thus very
early became places of conceal-ment
and devotion. ISTo doubt
the laborers in these subterranean
galleries formed a class by them-selves.
They were for the most
part slaves, the degraded and the
out- casts of the Imperial City.
—
It was natural that the religion
which proclaimed the great truth
of the equality of mankind before
God, which taught the heredi-tary
bondsman to look to a future
life for the reward of his suffer-ings
in this, that had selected
fishermen and publicans for apos-tles,
should be received with joy,
and embraced with gladness by
the neglected and despised labor-ers
in these sand caves.
One morning, we obtained a
special permit to visit the Cata-combs
of St. Calixtus, which con-tain
memorials of Christianity as
early as the first century, before
the last of the Apostles had left
the earth. About two miles from
the St. Sebastian gate, after trav-ersing
a portion of the Appian
"Way, we entered a large field
occupying the right of the road,
commanding a most glorious view
over the Campagna, and of the
distant ranges of the Appenines.
In the centre of this field, we
came to a large opening, which
revealed a long and steep stair-case
of stone, going down as it
were, into the very bowels of the
earth. As we descended, the
transition from the outer-world,
where all was sunshine and
warmth, into the regions of dark-ness
and dampness below, re-minded
one of Dante's descrip-tion
of his entrance into hell.
—
The first impression on entering
these Catacombs, where the light
of day is almost instantl}' lost,
and by the dim light of the torch-es,
one sees nothing in advance,
but the narrow gallery lined with
tiers of sepulchres; and feels every
moment the path beneath his feet
descending deeper and deeper—is
one of horror that chills and as-tonishes
the mind. The imagina-tion
then calls up what the reason
rejects, and plays as if fascinated
with ideal terrors. One remem-bers
then, with painful distinct-ness,
the band of students who,
with their tutor several years ago,
were lost in these very sepulchral
chambers, and whose remains
even, have never been found.
But soberly speaking, there is
not the least occasion for fear
the localities are perfectly familiar
to the guides, and many of the
more dangerous galleries have
been walled up, so as not to tempt
the wandering foot of imprudent
curiosity. Soon we were travers-ing
numerous corridors, inter-secting
each other, some at
acute, and some at obtuse
angles, and many of them
terminating in a rudely formed
niche, something in shape like the
tribune of a church, so that you
are obliged to strike off in a di-rection
quite different. As we
advanced along the narrow gal-leries,
on each side, we observed
with scarcely any interruption,
two, and sometimes three tiers of
grave like shelves, such as only
could have been used bv Christ-
1807.] Boman Catacombs. 369
ians, whose custom it was, not to
burn their dead. These graves
were mostly open, and in many
of them, were crumbling frag-ments
of bones, and in two or
three almost entire skeletons— at
their sides earthen flasks, and
sometimes flasks of glass contain-ing
a red sediment, these last
marking the resting place of mar-tj^
rs, this sediment being the re-mains
of their blood, which these
vases contained in small quanti-ties.
Some of these tombs are
still closed Avith slabs of marble,
bearing the name and age of the
deceased, with short comments,
all testifying their faith in bright-er
worlds beyond. One "sleeps
in Jesus," another "is buried
that she may live in the Lord
Jesus," while on another we read
almost the words of St. Paul
—
" dying yet behold she lives."
These inscriptions are chiefly in
Latin, often misspelt or ungram-matical,
occasionally written in
Greek characters, generally simple,
but in most cases, extremely af-fecting.
A parent briefly names
the age of his beloved child, or a
husband that of his wife, and the
years of their wedded life ; or the
epitaph adds a prayer that the
dead " may rest in peace," an-nexing
perhaps some rudely carv-ed
emblem of the believer's hope
of immortalit}'. Most of all, I
noticed the cross in its simplest
form, employed to testif}^ the
faith of the deceased. Whatever
ignorance and blind credulity may
have sprung up in later times,
here in these Catacombs, upon the
marble slabs, that shut their dead
from sight, the early Christians
have shown that with them, there
was no doubt of the full apprecia-tion
of that glorious sacrifice
—
"whereby alone we obtain re-mission
of sins, and are made
partakers of the kingdom of
Heaven." One inscription mter-ested
me very much, that I wrote
it down upon my tablets. Its
translation reads—"oh unhappy
times, when we cannot worship-in
safety, hardly in caverns, when
we are hunted like wild beasts-from
the surface of the earth."
It is in one of the chapels to-which
I will refer presently, and -
just over a fresco, evidently rep---
resenting the three children in the
fiery furnace—emblemizing mar-tyrdom.
Most of the inscriptions -
are concise, and to the purpose, as •
the following—"Here lies Gordi--
anus, deputy of Gaul, who was
executed for the faith with all his •
family;" and then the touching,
conclusion—" Theophilas a hand-maid,
placed this stone in fear,,
but full of hope;" as if none were-left
but this poor hand-maid, wha
in fear erected this memorial,
which has handed down the mas-ter's
faith, and the poor hand-maiden's
faithfulness.
The intelligent priest, who ac-companied
us, seemed to think,
that in the peculiar form of these
tombs, the early Christians mani-fested
a desire to imitate that of
the Savior, and fashioning them
like caves, and closing the aper-ture
with a slab of granite or
marble—a very likely hypothesis,
and certainly a most beautiful
impulse of love, treating as sacred,
and to be imitated even the ac-cidental
and outward details con-nected
with the burial of the
Incarnate God.
370 jRoman Catacomhs. [Sept.,
In passing along these narrow
galleries of tombs, at intervals,
you come to small vaulted cham-bers,
many of them still orna-mented
with the rude frescoes by
which the early Christians symbol-ized
their faith. These small
apartments are the little chapels,
where several hundred feet below
the earth's surface, they met for
prayer and praise. The frescoes
are in every case symbolical of
facts in Gospel history. Among
them we noticed the figure of the
Good Shepherd, represented by a
rustic youth in tunic and buskins;
carrying a lamb upon his shoulder.
Here too are frescoes representing
Christ in the midst of his Apos-tles,
his entry into Jerusalem, and
several of the Redeemer's mira-cles,
but principally the miracle
at Cana in Galilee, and that of
the loaves and fishes. Frequently,
may be seen representations of
the history of Jonah. By the
ancient Church, the history of
Jonah was deemed typical of
death and the resurrection, and
ranked amongst the most popular
objects of representation employ-ed
in the Catacombs. In one
chapel I noticed the Holy Spirit
as the descending dove at the
baptism of Jesus, and in one of
the chapels, in close vicinity to
the tomb of the martyr Cecilia,
is a portrait of our Saviour in his
humanity representing him with
one hand extended, as if in the
act of blessing, clasping with the
other a book close to his breast.
This is interesting, as it is un-questionably
the earliest painting
we have of Christ, being of the
third or fourth century of our
era. It is exceedingly rude in its
design and finish, clearly furnish-ing
the face from which Ciambue,
Giotto, and most of the early
painters copied. Our Savior in
his exaltation is not represented
until many centuries later, as in
the earlier ages of the Church,
when its worship was pure and
devotional, all allusion to the
cucifixion was reverently avoided.
It was not until the sixth century,
when corruptions had crept in,
that frescoes representing the
solemn scene on Calvary are seen.
The portrait of Christ in the
Catacombs, it is claimed, was
painted as early as the latter part
of the second century. It repre-sents
a person with an oval face,
straight nose, arched eye-brows,
and a smooth and rather high
forehead. The hair is parted and
flows in curls upon the shoulders,
the beard not thick, but short and
divided. Over the left shoulder
is thrown some drapery. How
far this is authentic, I am not pre-pared
to say. It certainly is not
a painting of the early date claim-ed
for it ; and looks as if it might
have been painted in the fourth
century of our era. The earliest
description we have of Christ is
in a letter from Lentuius to the
Roman Senate. This Lentuius
was the successor to Pontius
Pilate. "Whether genuine or not,
the description harmonizes with
what every Christian would desire
to form of his Savior. In this
letter he is described "as a
man of lofty stature, of serious
and imposing countenance, in-spiring
love as well as fear. His
hair is of the color of wine or of
golden lustre, flowing in curls upon
his shoulders, and divided down
1867. Boman Catacombs. 371
L
the centre of his head after the
iinanner of the oSTazarene. The
forehead is smooth and serene, the
face without blemish, of a slightly
ruddy color. The expression
noble and engaging, the nose and
mouth of perfect form, the beard
abundant and of the same color
with the hair, the eyes blue and
brilliant, and the most beautiful
among the children of men."
We were some three hours un-der
ground wandering amid these
sepulchral chambers, deeply in-terested
in the revelations which,
at every step, opened upon us,
bearing the strongest testimony
to the truth of the Christian re-ligion.
The Catacombs are certainly a
gigantic monument to the truth
of Christianity, no less attecting
to the heart, than convincing to
the mind, proving with what
rapidity its doctrines spread, the
persecutions and sufterings to
which its professors had cheerfully
submitted by reason of the faith
that was in them, and more than
all, the identity of the primitive
Church in all its belief and prac-tice
with the scri]Dtural record.
These Catacombs of Calixtus
are the earliest: and it is well
ascertained from the dates on
several of the tombs, that they
were used as burial places by the
Christians, as early as the perse-cution
days under Nero, It was
in this persecution St. Paul perish-ed,
and it may be that the tradi-tion
which points to these Cata-combs
as the first resting place -of
the body of the Apostle is correct.
There seems no reason for dis-trust
in the main features of the
legend, certainly as to the scene
of St. Paul's martyrdom and
grave—the localties of which are
in themselves likely enough, and
derive some additional probability
from the fact, that it was an
event which would cling most
tenaciously to the memory of the
early Church, even in its minutest
details. The bones of the Apostle
are said to have been removed
from these Catacombs in the year
375, at a time when it might be
fairly presumed, that the Christian
Church, could not have forgotten
where they laid him. The pa-triotism
of Xew England still
cherishes authentic memorials of
the Pilgrim Fathers, and the
places of their sepulture of many
of them are known at this day:
and there is certainly a more
abundant reason why the Christ-ians
should remember the burial
place of the ablest and most
zealous of the Apostles, at as
early day in the Christian era, as
375 after Christ.
Great eftbrts are now being
made by the Papal Government
to secure the Catacombs from
destruction. Manj' of the galleries
have been strengthened by arches,
and shafts are being sunk to let
the light of day into these gloomy
recesses. Several new ones have
lately been discovered, and are now
being excavated : and of all ofthem,
the most interesting, because the
most ancient are the Catacombs of
Calixtus. Ko Sovereign has in-terested
himself more in these
researches, and been at more ex-pense
in the work, than the pres-ent
incumbent of the Papal Chair,
who is so remarkable for the zeal
he has manifested in sustaining
and employing the peculiar tenets
372 Soman Catacombs, [Sept.
of the Church, over whose inter-ests
he presides with so much ur-banity
and dignity.
As we emerged from the gloomy
recesses of the Catacombs, and
stood once more in the bright sun-shine,
breathing heaven's pure
air—the scene before us, was one
of melancholy interest. Directly
below stretched the long line of
Appian Way, marked at inter-vals
by the crumbling ruins of the
once sumptuous tombs, that their
owners vainly built to make their
lives immortal: before and around
us, the dreary waste of the
Campagna lay in all its desola-tion.
There cities had been born,
and there they perished from the
world forever—there fields had
been lost and won, when Kome
was struggling for the mastery
with the fierce nations that sur-rounded
her. It was over this
vast plain swept that red whirl-wind,
descried by the wan burgh-ers
from "the rock Tarpeian,"
when was heard
" The trumpets war note proud,
The trampling and the hum,
And plainly and more plainly,
Xow through the gloom appears,
Far to left, and far to right.
In broken gleams of darkhlue light.
The long array of helmets bright,
The long array of spears."
Looking towards " the Eternal
City," the huge dome of St.
Peter's lifted itselfin the air, which
with the Tower of St. Angelo,
and the high roof of the palace of
the Corsini were glowing in the
light of departing day. There
too, just darkened by the ad-vancing
shadows of evening,
might be discerned the grey and
lofty pile of the Colosseum, and
the desolate line of the Forum,
with its solitary arches and ruin-ed
fragments. Words are insuf-ficient
to describe the melancholy
emotions which crowd the mind
upon looking out upon such a
scene as this. It is the huge
grave which covers the remains of
the loftiest human greatness, that
ever had existence. Gazing upon
such a scene
" The heart runs o'er
With silent homage of the great of old,
The dead, hut sceptered sovereigns
who still rule
Our spirits from their urns."
"The Lord reigneth; let the "The Lord reigneth; let the
people tremble: he sitteih hetv-een earth rejoice; let the multitude
the cherubim; let the earth be of isles be glad f/iereo/."
moved."
1867.] Artist-Work.
I
ARTIST-WORK,
" The theme iucludes a lesson. I will write
The thought out to a full and fine result:
—Old Leonardo, with his grand, grey head,
And patriarchal beard, day after day
Sitting within the Milan market-place
;
Searching amid that humanest of crowds,
To find some face that he might glorify
With his rare art, until the shepherd-boy
Looks from his canvass—a divine Saint -John.
"I"ll paint the potrait with Correggio's charm
Of light and shadow;—the most royal brow,
—
The meditative gaze,—the stately pose,—
•
The simple Doric dignity of dress
—
Till the old master glows upon my page
In nature's living colors.
" Round him then,
I'll group the common folk, that come and go;
The brawny-arm'd, red turban'd fisherman,
The chestnut-vender, with his scowling glance
—
(A hint of Judas in his sinister eye)—
•
The mild-faced mother who looks smiling down,
A jDossible Madonna—on the child
That grasps her finger;—innocent flower-girls,
And bronze-cheek'd, wrinkled gossips.
"I will prove.
That genius beckoned, when Da Yinci shut
His dreamy studio,—leaving on the wall.
The half-done picture which his fancy failed
To summon models for,—and sought and found
Within the commonest lives, new elements
Of inspiration. I will make it clear.
That he who with subjective introspection.
Paints from the airy beings of his brain.
Is never truthful artist. He who aims
To catch the lineaments of Nature's face,
Must bring his pallette's mingled colors forth
Into the open daylight,—matching there
The pearly shades of cumulated clouds,
—
The skyey spaces, tinct with changeful blue,—
374 Artist-Worl: [Sept.,
And all the mysteries of this grey-green earth,
Kot learned beneath close roofs.
"Thus will I teach
The lesson often taught,—that we look
About our feet for the material
From which to mould high purpose :—that the life
Hemming us round, has rich suggestiveness,
—
That even the homeliest office of the hour.
If duty dignify and lift it up,
And if for terms of service, it demand
Renunciations—strict self-sacritice
—
Small abnegations
" Darling, are 2/ou thereV
And did you ask if I restored the buttons
Lost from your shooting-jacket? Xay—forgive!
My Poem—" Household Priestesses^'—detained me.
And I forgot the buttons.
" Ah—he's gone I
I hear him Avhistling to his pointers now:
Xonder he stops beneath the apple-tree.
To strap his game-bag: and I hear his voice;
(—I never heard one sweeter than my husband's—
)
What is he singing?"
HVSBAXD.
" Carolling lark,—so high—so high.
Up in the sk}-.
—
Floating a fairj^, airy mote.
Earthward dropping a liquid note,
Tenderly clear.
Such as it quickens my heart to hear.
Out of vision, as stars withdrawn
Into the dawn
Blotted away from mortal view.
Drowned in infinite depths of blue.
Xever to be
Aught but a creature of air to me
!
Xever to stoop from flight so broad.
Down to the sod,
Where you fashioned your grassy nest
—
'Tis too lowlj' a place of rest:
—
Twitterers there,
Chirp, but 3-ou heed not, high in air.
1867.] Artist-Work. 375
Tame little robin, piping so sweet,
Here at my feet,
Cheerily cliirrnping all day long,
Only for me: "With such a song.
Wherefore should I
Care for the music that floods the sky I"
WIFE.
" So man would have it! Let Mm be the lark,
To spring straight upward from the trampled grass,
To shed the dampness from his fretted wings
—
To leave the querrulous fledglings far below
—
And out upon the golden air to soar
Unhindered,—wasting all his fervid soul
Upon the careless breeze: and then, when tired.
To drop down slowly to the clover-nest,
"Where all the while, his mate has fed their brood,
In patient love,—oblivious of the sky.
Unconscious of the sunshine
"Yet—and yet
—
As I'm true wife and woman, I would rather
Be the brown sparrow picking from his hand.
If so it xjlease him better,—than inspire
A thousand other listeners with my song!
" But what, my little scholar?—Have 3^ou too
Lost buttons from your jacket?"
CHILD.
" Mother, I have come to ask
That you'll help me to decline
All these nouns: I've conned my task.
But I cannot read a line.
Tell me what officium, means:
Here is 'facere—to do,'
—
But this verb that intervenes,
I am puzzled to construe.
And this philologic stuff,
Mother, I should like to know
If I did not learn enough
Enorlish Grammar long ago.
376 Ticelve months in Sjjctin. [Sept.,
Then these sums—they vex me yet
Ptule of Two, or Kule of Three,
Which is proper?—I forget,
For it's quite all one to me.
What's an equinoctial lineV
What's a zone—a parallel?
Mother dear, will you define?
For I'm sure J cannot tell."
WIFE.
" Yes, yes, my son, I'll help you. Let me first
Put up my writing.
" Themes for charmed thought,
-
The quiet, studious ease—the author's desk
—
The chosen hours withdrawn from household use.
And hedged from interruption,—these, 'tis plain.
Are not for wives and mothers. They must sit
Like Leonardo in the market place,
Amid the jostling stir of clamorous life.
And catch suggestions of the beautiful.
For love—true artist,—to idealize
In living frescoes on the walls of Ho^ieI"
TWELVE arONTHS IN SPAIN"'
i
Passing Trafalgar, where Xel-son
greatly died, our steamer
entered the Straits of Gibraltar.
—
As we could not possibly reach
that Fortress before sun-set, when
the gates would be closed, an
American friend and myself, with
the double view of seeing Tarifa,
and of avoiding a night on
board, determined to go ashore at
Land's End of Europe, and thence
on horse-back to "The Eock."—
And here a bit of etymology may
not be out of place. " If you
* Continued from page 134.
turn to a map of Spain," says-
Trench on Words, "you will
take note at its Southern point,
and running out into the Straits
of Gibraltar, of a promontory,
which from its position, is ad-mirably
adapted for commanding
the entrance of the Mediterranean
Sea, and watching the exit and
entrance of all ships. A fortress-stands
upon this promontory,
called now, as it was also called in
the times of the Moorish domina-tion
in Spain, Tarifa ; the name,
indeed, is of Moorish origin. It
was the custom of the Moors to-
1867.] Twelve 3Iontlis in Spain. 377
watch from this point all mer-chant-
ships going into, or coming
out of, the Midland Sea, and,
issuing from this strong-hold, to
levy duties, according to fixed
rates, on all merchandise passing
in and out of the Straits; and this and a prison for galley-slaves, was,
was called, from the place where in its prime, a strong Castle and a
one eye—a most tantalizing mode,
especially as the women of Tarifa
are said to be exceedingly pretty:
" Whose lovely visage Is too bright
To hit the sense of human sight."
The Alcazar, now dilapidated
it was levied, Harifa'' or Ho.r-
/(f,-' and in this way we have
acquired the word." But how did
the place come to be called Tarifa ?
So named in honor of Tarif Ibu
fine specimen of the Moorish
style. A window is still pointed
out where was enacted, in the
war between the Christians and
Saracens, one of those scenes that
Malik, a Moorish chieftain, who reminds us of the heroic virtue
landed here A. D., 711, and who, of old Eome. I tell the story,
besides the celebity of being the which is authentic, as it is told in
first to lift the standard of the the guide-books.
Crescent in Europe, has also i^ 1292, Sancho, the Brave,
given to modern tongues a new captured Tarifa. Alonzo Perez
term, and to modern politics a ^q Guzman, when all others de-new
problem. All the ancient clined, offered to hold this post of
nations practiced free trade.— danger for a year. The Moors
These early Arabs, at the gate- beleaguered it, aided by the In-way
of the Mediterranean, were fante Juan, a brother of Sancho,
the first to lay a tribute on com- ^^o had turned traitor to the
merce. It was evidently, in their Christians,and to whom xUonzo's
case, purely an exercise of might, only son, aged nine, had been
since they had no pretence of previously entrusted as a page.—
right to arrest merchandise,which, juan now brought the boy under
passing from one great sea to the walls, and threatened to kill
another, did not enter, or seek to ^im if his father would not sur-enter
their ports on either side of render. Alonzo drew his dagger
the passage. But the idea thus and threw it down, fiercely ex-lawlessly
started has, in a modified claiming, "I prefer honor with-form,
become the vexata qucestio out a son, to a son with dishonor."
of political science. He retired from the window, and
.
As Tarifa was the first to re- the Prince Juan proceeded im-ceive
the invader, so it remains to mediately to put the child to
this day more truly oriental than death, A cry of wail and horror
any town in Spain. The streets ran through the Spanish battle-are
narrow, tortuous and clean— ments. Alonzo again rushed to
the houses flat-roofed and nearly the window, ignorant of what had
windowless towards the street.— caused the cry among his troops,
What strikes you as peculiarly and beheld his son's body. Turn-
Eastern, is the manner of wear- ing to his wife, now a childless
ing the mantilla, which is so fold- mother, he calmly said, " I feared
ed as to conceal all the face but the Infidel had gained the city."
378 Ticelve Months in Sjmin. [Sept...
Leaving Tarifa, which a few
hours sufficed to see, we took
horses for Gibraltar. We turned
from the direct road somewhat to
the left in order to cross a plain,
a few miles from Tarifa, famous
in the annals of war, where a
great battle was fought in 1340,
between the Spaniards and Moors,
under Alonzo XI and Yusuf I.
The forces on each side are stated
as follows: Spaniards 25,000 in-fantry
and 1-1,000 cavalry; Moors
400,000 infantry and 70,000 caval-ry.
The Spanish loss was only 20
men, the Moorish 200,000. These
figures, furnished by Spanish
Chronicles, are laughed at as
fabulous. And much exaggera-tion
should be allowed, undoubt-edly,
to the pride of race and to
the boast of victory. Still the
figures may not be so wide of the
mark, after all. Accounts of
other battles, deemed quite his-torical,
exhibit almost equal dis-parity
of numbers and even great-er
destruction of the vanquished
—
Platrx'a, for instance, where of the
300,000 Persians who went into
the fight, but 3,000 escaped alive.
We should note, as an event in
the progress of arms, that in this
engagement the Moors had ar-tillery,
six years before the battle
of Cressy, Avhere it is generally
considered cannon was first used
in Europe. And, in fact, it was
the unskillful handling of this
new weapon, instead of relying
upon the close-fight to which they
were accustomed and in which
they excelled, that so disastrous-ly
lost them the day. For what-ever
else may be uncertain about
the battle here fought, its result is
not uncertain. It settled forever
the question between the Cross-and
the Crescent in the Peninsu-la.
It secured Spain to Christi-anity.
Kot that the Infidel domi-nation
fell " like the sudden down-come
of a tower," but men every-where
foresaw, even slowly as
causes operated in that age, that
fall it must. It was death-doomed
on this plain, which is now rank
and fragrant with weed and wild
fiower. Foitr or five miles from
here is another embattled field,
where July 19, A. D., 711, a seven-days'
action was begun, between
the Moors and Spaniards, which
ended in the utter defeat of the
latter, and gave Spain to the
Moslem. Thus a single battle,
fought on almost the self- same
ground, though at an interval of
more than six centuries apart,
both established and subverted
the Spanish-Arabic ascendency.
—
The two-fold coincidence is strik-ing,
if not unexampled.
We regained our direct road,
and our ride presented us at every
step with a varied succession of
beautiful and sublime prospects.
Spain, like all peninsulas, ter-minates
Southward in bold cliffs,
from the summits of which the
view is magnificently extensive.
Sometimes, through the leafy vista
of the wild forest, we could see
the mountain torrent leaping, as
a hart, over rock and precipice
till its crystal stream softly min-gled
with the waters of the un-rufiled
Bay. We repeatedly called
to mind Moore's fine imagerj"
" .is a bright river that, from fall to
fall
In anany a maze descending-, bright
through all,
Finds some fair region where, each
labyrinth past.
In one full lake of light it rests at last."
1867.1 We do all fade as the Leaf.' 379
Far off to the right our eyes
caught, at intervals, the snowy
ridge of the Atlas, while nearer
at hand, on either side of the
Strait, the fabled Pillars of Her-cules
—"Gibel Mousa" on the
African coast and " Gibraltar "
on the European—lifted their gi-gantic
masses grandly from the
sea.
Englishmen are fond of dis-covering
in the shape of Gibraltar,
'' full - charged with England's
thunders," a resemblance to a
lion couchant: and seen, as we
now saw it, at a distance of ten
or tifteen miles, there is, in truth,
something in the outline not un-like
England's national symbol.
In the evening, crossing the
Bay from Algiceras, we reached
Gibraltar, which is a free port,
and consequently we were not an-noyed
by officials curious to in-spect
our passports and rummage
our baggage for contraband. Yet
we barely escaped an annoyance
more vexatious than the custom-house—
for we had scarcely touch-ed
the celebrated Rock, ere the
signal-gun, " booming slow with
sullen roar," announced that the
gates were shut and would not be
opened till next day at sunrise.
We do all fade as the Leaf.
Autumn has clustered his cohorts
An army with banners green.
Tossing their branches like knightly spears.
In the sunshine's golden sheen.
September's sun is flaming
On ripened shock and sheaf.
In lines of light proclaiming
The fading of the leaf.
Per the frost with its chilling hand comes down,
And snatches from nature her clustering crown,
—
He spreads his cloak on the forest bright
And its pomp is passed in a single night,
While each waving bough where the woodbirds sung
it's shriveled leaves to the ground has flung,
And the birds to a brighter home have past.
For a withering blight on the scene is cast.
And the lingering shadows faintly fall
On the faded flowers like a funeral pall.
And over the blue of the beaming skies
A hazy veil like a covering lies,
And a softening calmness sadly steals
380 " We do all fade as the Leaf.'' [Sept.,
On the pensive spirit which shrinking feels:
—
What a thousand wordless voices sa}^
—
" Seed time and harvest have passed away!''
The Lord of autumn assembles
An army exceedingly grand,
Glowing in beauty and strength supreme,
Arranged by the Master's hand
;
Each buoyant breast is bounding
With a bliss as bright as brief,
While spirit knells are sounding
The fading of life's leaf!
For a fiercer blast and a keener chill
Than the touch of winter its pulses still,
And its joy dissolves with a mocking gleam.
And its visions fade like a fairy dream,
As over the heart with a murmur deep
The tempests of desolation sweep!
—
High hopes like the summer birds are flown
—
Sweet fancies along with the leaves are strown
—
And fast on the future's trembling track
Forebodings are falling heavy and black,
While a legion of fearful fancies shroud
The path of the present as with a cloud,
And a m-ist, which no gleam of faith divides
The face of heaven from our vision hides,
And the soid repeats with a dumb dismay:
"Seed time and harvest have passed awa}'."
The harvest is ended, summer is past
And death and winter are hurrying fast.
But the balmj- breath of another spring
A fresher bloom to the earth will bring,
And the soul which drinks at the sacred fount
Of its God's supplying, shall upward mount
To a holy haven where sorrows cease
And doubt and despairing are merged in peace;
—
And the weary heart and the aching breast
Are filled with the rapture of perfect rest,
And the spirit blooms in a brighter day
Though seed time and harvest have passed away!
1SG7. Battle of King''s Mountain. 381
BATTLE OF KIXG'S MOUIsTAIX.
The hard fought and decisive
battle of King's Mountain took
place on the 7th of October, 17S0.
Its importance to the success of
the American arms in the Kevo-lutionary
war, and the decided
influence of the victory obtained
there, upon the cause of American
Independence, have scarcely been
alluded to, by the historians of
the Xorth. By some of them, it
has been mentioned, in a brief
paragraph, as an unimportant
skirmish,—out upon the remote
frontier,—with few of its details
and with no reference to its ulti-mate
bearing on the question of
liberty and independence. Bot-ta—
and he a foreigner—is the
only historian who has given to
the South even the appearance of
justice, in his excellent history of
the American Revolution. By
other historians, defeats in the
Korth have been magnified into
victories, while the real and sub-stantial
triumph of the Southern
soldiers and patriots at King's
Mountain, is barely mentioned or
entirely omitted.
To estimate fully and to under-stand
properly the extent of this
victory, it will be necessary to
make a hasty examination of the
condition of American affairs at
the time of its occurrence.
The failure of the conlT)ined
forces of General Lincoln and
Count D'Estaing to re-capture
Savannah, had left Georgia in the
quiet possession of the enemy.
—
This brought to the aid of the
British, many of the Indians and
YoL. III.—Xo. T.
of the loyalists who had fled from
the Carolinas and taken refuge
among them. These were now
emboldened to collect from all
cjuarters, under cover of Pre-vosts'
army. They either united
with it, or joined in formidable
bodies to hunt up and destroy the
whig inhabitants. Many of these
were forced in their turn, to for-sake
their homes, and transport
their families beyond the mount-ains,
to the secure retreats of
"Watauga and iN'ollichuchy. It
became evident that all that was
wanting to complete British as-cendancy
in the South, was the
possession of Charleston. Should
that metropolis and the army of
Lincoln that defended it, be cap-tured,
the reduction of the whole
State, and probably of Xorth
Carolina also, would ensue.
—
Charleston was, on the 29th of
March, 17S0, invested by Prevost.
The defence was protracted under
every discouragement and disad-vantage,
to the 12th of May,
when General Lincoln found him-self
obliged to capitulate. The
fall of Charleston was soon after
succeeded by the rapid conquest
of the interior country, and from
the sea-coast to the mountains,
the progress of the enemy was
almost wholly an uninterrupted
conquest. The inhabitants gener-ally
submitted, and were either
paroled as prisoners, or took pro-tection
as British subjects. A
few brave and patriotic men, un-der
gallant and indomitable lead-ers,
remained in arms, but were
26
382 Battle of Kinrfs Mountain. [Sept..
surprised and cut to pieces hj
Tarleton and Webster, or for se-curity
from their pursuit, with-drew
into Xorth Carolina. Tlie
inarch of tlie enemy was con-tinued
towards the populous whig
settlements, and garrisons were
established at prominent points
of the country, with the view of
pushing their conquest still further
into the interior. South Carolina
was indeed considered, as a sub-dued
British Province, rather than
an American State, and the Com-mander-
in-Chief, Sir Henry Clin-ton,
believing the conquest of the
South complete, invested Lord
Cornwallis with command and
sailed for Xew York.
But in the midst of the general
submission of the inhabitants,
there remained a few unconquer-able
spirits, whom nothing but
death could quell. These were
Sumter, Marion and Williams,
of South Carolina, and Twiggs
and Clarke, of Georgia. The lat-ter
had withdrawn with about one
hundred of his valiant, but over-powered
countrymen, and sought
safety in the remote settlements
on the western waters. Here,
their representations of the
atrocities perpetrated by the loyal-ists,
stimulated into life, the pas-sion
of the frontier-men for re-taliation
and revenge. They had
left parents and kindred and
countrymen east of the Alle-ghanies,
and their hearts yet
yearned for their safety and wel-fare.
The homes of their youth
were pillaged and the friends they
loved were slain, or driven into
exile. Above all, the great cause
of American freedom and inde-pendence
was endangered, the
country was invaded by a power-ful
foe; and the exigencies of
Carolina called aloud for the re-turn
of every absent son, for her
rescue and defence. The call was
promptly obeyed. And the
mountain men—pioneers of Ten-nessee—
were the first to resist the
invaders.
In the meantime, the British'
army had advanced to Ninety
Six, Camden and Cheraw. Their
successes had stimulated into act-ivity,
the hitherto dormant dis-affection
of some of the inhabi-tants
of North Carolina. The
enemy was now ai^proaching, in
his career of conquest and victory,
the southern boundary of that
State. Many who had hitherto
worn the mask of friendship, be-came
now the avowed enemies of
the American cause, and under
loyalist leaders, assembled to-gether
at Eamsour's Mill, North
Carolina, and after a hard con-flict,
had been dispersed. A simi-lar
body met on the Pacolet in
South Carolina, under the com-mand
of Col. Patrick Moore.
—
Against these Colonels Sevier and
Shelby, with their mountain men,
and Colonel Clark6, with his refu-gee
Georgians, six hundred in all,
were dispatched by Gen. McDow-ell.
The tory garrison surrender-ed.
xVnother body of tories, un-der
command of the British Col.
Ennes, was also met and van-quished
at Musgrove's Mill. The
battle was scarcely over when a
messenger rode into camp bear-ing
the information that the grand
army of General Gates had been
disastrously defeated at Camden,
and advising the Whig leaders to
get out of the way as soon as pes-
18G7.] Battle of Kinrfs Mountain. 383
sible, and escape with the prison-ers
they had captured. After a
very earnest pursuit by Dupois-ter,
Sevier, Shelby and Clarke
made good their retreat across
the mountain, and Gates, with
the scattered fragments of his
army, after the ill-advised and
badly arranged battle near Cam-den,
had ingloriously fallen back
to Hillsborough; thus leaving
scarcely a single armed corps to
meet and repel the advance of
Cornwallis into Xorth Carolina,
which he declared to be only the
stepping stone to the easy con-quest
of Virginia. But these sev-eral
military disasters were not
the alone causes of the gloom and
despondency, that now hung like
a pall over the discouraging pros-pects
of American success. The
finances of Congress were in a
most deranged condition, and
daily becoming worse. The State
treasuries were exhausted, and
it had become impossible to sub-sist
the army and to furnish the
famishing soldiers either with
clothing or ammunition. The
confidence of the most steadfast
friends of America was shaken,
and hope of final success was al-most
annihilated in the bosom of
every patriot.
This was the darkest period in
the Kevolutionary war. The
British flag floated in triumph
over Savannah and Charleston.
South Carolina was not only over-run,
but was subdued and inlhe
possession of the enemy, from the
sea-coast to the Blue Kidge.
—
Cornwallis was in Charlotte, X.
C, and profaning there the first
Temple of Liberty and Indepen-dence.
The confidence even of
Washington, in our eventual suc-cess,
was shaken. The brave had
despaired and sought for safety
in the remote seclusion of the
Trans-montane settlements.
The timid were suing to the in-vaders
for protection. But under
all these discouragements—amid
the conquests of the enemy, and
the defection ofquondam Whigs.
—
there were gallant patriots whose
spirit never quailed. On the
mountain heights and in the quiet
retreats beyond them, was found
the stern determination to con-quer
or to die. To rescue the
country or become victims in its
defence.
Cornwallis, elated with the con-quest
he had already made, re-mained
in Camden only long
enough to arrange civil aftairs in
South Carolina, before he should
advance to further successes in
jSTorth Carolina. But in the mean
time he had sent Col. Tarleton
and Major Ferguson with a de-tachment
of soldiers to scour the
country, to encourage the loyal-ists,
and to intimidate the few
remaining whigs, while he, with
the main army, advanced to and
took possession ofCharlotte, where
he intended to establish a post
and garrison. This place he en-tered
September 25, 1780.
Perguson, who had been sent
to the populous districts on the
left of Cornwallis, to watch the
movements of the patriot whigs
on the Pacolet and Enoree, was
near to Musgrove's Mill when
that victory was won, and had de-tached
Dupoister his second in
command,in pursuit of the mount-ain
men. Ferguson himself with
the main body of his army follow-
384 Battle of Kinrfs Mountain. [Sept.,
ed close upon the heels of Dupois-ter,
determined to retake the pris-oners
or to support his second in
command, if he should overtake
and engage the escaping enemy.
But finding that his efforts were
fruitless, he took post at a place
then called Gilbert Town, two
or three miles from the present
Rutherfordton. From this place
he sent a most threatening mes-sage
by Samuel Philips, a paroled
prisoner, that if the people west
of the mountains did not lay down
their opposition to the British
arms, he would march his army
over, burn and lay waste their
country, and hang their leaders.
Patrick Ferguson, who had sent
this insolent threat, was at the
head of a large army. Of the
loyalists composing a part of his
command, some had previously
been across the mountains, and
were familiar with the passes
b}'- which these heights were pene-trated.
One of them had been
subjected to the indignity of a coat
of tar and feathers, inflicted dur-ing
the past summer by the light-horse
men of Capt. Robert Sevier,
on Xollichuchy. He proposed to
act as pilot to the command, which
now stood at the foot of the Blue
Ridge, ready to carry into effect,
the threat made by Ferguson.
This officer had already dis-played
that combination of in-trepid
heroism, inventive genius
and sound judgment, which con-stitute
the valiant soldier and the
able commander. In early youth,
he entered the British army, and
in the German war was distin-guished
by a courage as cool, as it
was determined. The boasted
skill of the xVmericans in the use
of the rifle, was an object of ter-ror
to the British troops, and the
rumors of their fatal aim, opera-ted
upon, and stimulated the
genius of Ferguson. His in-vention
produced a new species of
that instrument which could be
loaded at the breech, without
using the rammer or turning the
muzzle away from the enemy, and
with such quickness of repetition
as to fire seven times in a minute.*
In his march through the
country, Ferguson had armed
such of the inhabitants as were
well affected to the British cause
and had embodied them for their
own defence. Xow a Lieutenant
Colonel, he was entrusted with
the charge of thus marshalling
the militia of all the upper Dis-tricts.
Under his direction and
conduct, a military force, at once
numerous and select was enrolled
and disciplined.
Receiving by the paroled prison-er,
the threatening message from
Ferguson, Colonel Shelby began
at once to concert measures,
suited to the approaching crisis.
He visited Colonel Sevier, and
they came to the determination,
to raise all the riflemen they could,
march hastily through the mount-ains
and endeavor to surprise
Ferguson in his camp. Thej'
hoped to be able, at least to crip-ple
him, so as to prevent the exe-cution
of his threat. The day
and the place were appointed for
the rendezvous of the men. The
time was the 2oth of Sei^tember,
and the Sycamore Shoals, on
Watauga, selected, as the most
central point, and abounding
* Bisset.
1807.] Battle of Kinrfs Mountain. 385
most in the necessary supplies.
Colonel Sevier, with that in-tense
earnestness and persuasive
address, for wliicli he was so re-markable,
began at once to arouse
the border-men for the projected
enterprise. In this he found no
difficulty. A spirit of congenial
heroism, brought to his standard,
in a few days, more men than it
was thought either prudent or
safe to withdraw from the settle-ments:
the whole military force
of which was estimated at less
than a thousand men. Fully one
half of that number was necessary
to man the forts and stations, and
keep up scouting parties on the
extreme frontier. The remainder
were immediately enrolled for the
distant service. A difficulty arose
from another source. Many of
the volunteers were unable to fur-nish
suitable horses and equip-ments.
The iron hand of poverty
checked the rising ambition of
many a valorous youth, who
"Had lieard of battle
" And who longed to follow to the field
some warlike chief."
"Here" said Mrs. Sevier
pointing to her son James, not
yet sixteen years old, "Here,
Mr. Sevier, is another of our boys
that wants to go with his father
and brothers to the war, but we
have no horse for him, and poor
fellow I it is a great distance to
walk." Colonel Sevier tried to
borrow money on his own re-sponsibility,
to fit out and furni^i
the expedition. But every in-habitant
had expended the last
dollar in taking up his land, and
all the money of the country was
thus in the hands of the Entry-
Taker. Sevier waited upon that
officer, and represented to him,
that the want of means was likely
to retard, and in some measure to
frustrate, his exertions, to carry
out the expedition, and suggested
to him the use of the public
money in his hands. John Adair,
Esq., late of Knox county, was
the Entry-Taker, and his reply
was worthy of the times and wor-thy
of the man. " Colonel Sevier,
I have no authority by law, to
make that disposition of this
money. It belongs to the im-poverished
treasury of North
Carolina, and I dare not appro-priate
a shilling of it to any pur-pose.
But if the country is over-run
by the British, liberty is gone.
Let the money go too. Take it.
If the enemy, by its use, is driven
from the country, I can trust that
country to justify and vindicate
my conduct. Take it."
The money was taken and ex-pended
in the purchase of am-munition
and the necessary equip-ments.
This act of Squire Adair
was legalized by the Legislature
of North Carolina, which passed
to his credit -512, 735, January 31,
1782.
Colonel Sevier also undertook
to bring Colonel McDowell and
other field officers, who with their
followers, were then in a state of
expatriation amongst the western
settlers, into the measure. In
this he succeeded at once. All
of them had been driven from
their homes, which were now de-serted
and exposed to the depre-dations
of the disorderly and li-centious
loyalists, who had joined
the Foreign enemy. Most of
them had friends and kindred on
whom Ferguson and his tories.
k
386 Battle of Kinrfs Mountain. [Sept.
were even then wreaking their
vengeance. These homes and
these friends, they longed to rescue
and protect from further violence
and desecration.
To Colonel Shelby was assign-ed
the co-operation of the
riflemen of Western Virginia.
—
These had in many a past
campaign with the pioneers of
Tennessee, bivouacked and fought
and triumphed together over a
savage foe, and it was now deem-ed
essential to the preservation of
a common liberty and independ-ence,
to obtain the aid of these
gallant men in resisting the in-vasion
of the common country.
Shelby wrote to Colonel Camp-bell,
of Virginia, stating what
had been concerted by Sevier and
himself, and urging him to join
them with his regiment. That
gallant officer, true to the general
cause, but most loyal to Virginia,
replied that he- preferred his
original plan, which was to march
his men down by the way of the
riower-Gap, and get on the
Southern border of Virginia,
ready to meet and oppose Lord
Cornwallis, when he approached
that State. A second application
of Shelby was more successful,
and Campbell replied that he
would co-operate with his whole
force.
Col. Campbell commanded four
hundred men from Virginia; Col.
Sevier two hundred and forty men
from Washington County; Col.
Shelby two hundred and forty
men from Sullivan County in
North Carolina. The refugee
whigs mustered under Colonel
McDowell. All Avere well mount-ed
and nearly all armed with a
Dechard rifle. This rifle was re-markable
for the precision and
distance of its shot. It was gen-erally
three feet six inches long,
weighed about seven pounds and
ran seventy bullets to the pound
of lead. It was so called from
Dechard, the maker, of Lancaster,
Pennsylvania.
The camp on Watauga on the
2oth of September, presented an
animated spectacle. The entire
military force of the country was
assembled at Sycamore Shoals.
—
Scarce a single gun-man remained
that day at his own house. The
young, ardent and energetic, had
generally enrolled themselves for
the campaign against Ferguson.
The less vigorous and more aged,
were left with the inferior guns in
the settlements, for their protec-tion
against the Indians; but all
had attended the rendezvous. The
old men were there to counsel,
encourage and stimulate the youth-ful
soldier, and to receive from
the colonels instructions for the
defence of the stations during
their absence. Others Avere there
to bring, in rich profusion, the
products of their farms, which
were cheerfully furnished, gra-tuitously
and without stint, to com-plete
the outfit of the expedition.
Gold and silver they had not, but
subsistence and clothing and
equipment and the fierj' charger
—any thing the frontier-man
owned, in the cabin, the field or
the range, was oftered, unosten-tatiously,
upon the altar of his
country. The wife and the sister
were there, and with a suppressed
sigh,, witnessed the departure of
the husband and brother. And
there, too, were the heroic moth-
1867.] Battle of King'>s ^fountain. 3S7
ers with a mournful but noble
pride, to take a fond farewell of
their gallant sons.
The sparse settlements of this
frontier, had never before seen as-sembled
together a concourse
of people so immense, and so ev-idently
agitated by great ex-citement.
The large mass of the
assembly were volunteer riflemen,
clad in fabrics of their own house-holds,
and wearing the hunting
shirt, so characteristic of the back-woods
soldiery, and not a few of
them the moccasins of their own
manufacture. A few of the offi-cers
were better dressed, but all
in citizens' clothing. The mien
of Campbell was stern, authorita-tive
and dignified; Sevier was vi-vacious,
ardent, impulsive and
energetic; Shelby was grave, tac-iturn
and determined; McDowell
was moving about with the ease
and dignity of a colonial mag-istrate,
inspiring veneration for
his virtues and an indignant sjnn-pathy
for the wrongs of himself
and his co-exiles. All were com-pletely
wrapt in the absorbing
subject of the revolutionary strug-gle,
then approaching its acme,
and threatening the homes and
the families of the mountaineers
themselves. Xever did mountain
recess contain within it a loftier
or more enlarged patriotism—nev-er
a cooler or more determined
courage.
In the seclusion of their homes
in the West, many of the volun-teers
had only heard of war at a
distance, and had been in undis-puted
possession of that independ-ence
for which their Atlantic
countrymen were now struggling.
The near approach of Ferguson
had awakened them from their
security, and indignant at the
violence and depredations of his
followers, the}^ were now embod-ied
to chastise and avenge them.
This they had done at the sugges-tion
and upon the motion of their
own leaders, without any requisi-tion
from the government of Amer-ica,
or the officers of the Conti-nental
army. Indeed, at this
moment, the American army in
the South was almost annihilated,
and the friends of the American
cause were discouraged and de-spondent.
The British were every
where triumphant, and the loyal-ists,
under the pretence of promot-ing
the service of his Britanic
Majesty, were in many sections
perpetrating the greatest outrage
and cruelty upon the "Whigs. The
attitude of these volunteer de-tachments
now assembled at
Watauga, was as forlorn as it was
gallant. At the time of their
embodiment, and for several days
after the}' had marched against
the enemy, flushed with recent
victories, and confident of further
conquest, it was not known to
them that a single armed corps of
Americans was marshalled for
their assistance and relief. The
crisis Avas indeed dark and gloomy.
But indomitable patriots were
present, prepared and willing- to
meet it. The pe runnel of no army
could have been better. There
Avas strength, enterprise, courage
and enthusiasm. The ardor and
impetuosity and rashness of youth
were there, to project and exe-cute,
with the wisdom of mature
age to temper and direct them;
the caution of the father and the
irrepressible daring of the son.
368 Battle of King''s 3Iountain. [Sept.y
Without delay, early on the
morning of the next day after its
rendezvous at Watauga, the little
army was on the march. Before
the troops left the camp, the offi-cers
requested that they should
assemble for the purpose of com-mending
the arniy to Divine pro-tection
and guidance. They com-plied
promptly with the request.
Prayer, solemn and appropriate,
was offered by a clergyman pres-ent,
and the riflemen mounted
their horses and started on the
distant campaign. They pursued
Bright's trace across the Yellow
Mountain. The staff" was incom-plete;
rather there was no staff";
no quarter-master, no commissa-ry,
no surgeon, no chaplain. As
in all their Indian campaigns,
being mounted and unincumber-ed
with baggage, their motions
were rapid. Each man, each of-ficer,
set out with his trusty Dech-ard
on his shoulder ; a shot pouch,
a tomahawk, a knife, a knap-sack
and a blanket completed the out-fit.
At night the earth afforded
him a bed and the heavens a cov-ering:
the mountain stream
quenched his thirst, his provision
was procured from supplies ac-quired
on the march by his gun.
After passing the mountain, the
troops, sparing the property of
whigs, quartered and subsisted
upon the tories.
On the second day, two of the
men were missed. They had de-serted
and would doubtless escape
to the enemy, and apprise them
of the approach of the mountain
men, and the route by which the
march would be conducted. Ow-ing
to this apprehension, which
was subsequently ascei'tained to
be well founded, the troops, after
crossing the Alleghany, left the
frequented trace, and turned to
the left, descending by a worse
path than was ever before travel-ed,
by an army of horsemen.
Beaching the foot of the Blue
Ridge, they fell in with Colonel
Cleaveland, of Wilkes county and
Colonel AVinston, of Surry county,
X. C, with three or four hundred
men, who were creeping along
cautiously through the woods,
desiring to fall in with and join
any party that might be going to
oppose the enemy.
After reaching the settled coun-try
east of the mountain, ad-ditions
were constantly made to
the arm}'-—of officers with men,
and of officers without men,
and of men without officers ; some
few on horses—most of them on
foot—but all eager to find and
fight the enemy. It was an
avalanche of patriotism and cour-age
—never surpassed—rarely
equalled.
The junction of the party from
Wilkes and Surry took place about
the first of October. The second
day following was so wet, that the
army could not move. The de-lay
was improved by the com-manding
officers, meeting as if by
instinct, in the evening, and hold-ing
a council. At this meeting it
was determined to send to Head-quarters,
wherever it might be,
for a general officer to take the
command of the several corps;
and that in the meantime they
would meet in council every day
to determine the measures to be
pursued. Colonel Shelby was not
well satisfied with these regula-tions,
and in support of his ob^
1867.] Battle of King-s Mountain. 389
jections, observed to the council,
that they Avere theu within strik-ing
distance of the enemy, who
lay at that time, at Gilbert Town,
sixteen or eighteen miles distant
that Ferguson would either at-tack
or avoid them, until he
gathered together such a force
that they dared not approach.
He therefore advised that they
should act with promptness and
decision, and proposed that thej'
would appoint one of their own
number to command and march
the next day and attack the enemy
at Gilbert Town. He further pro-posed
that Colonel Campbell was
known to him as a gentleman of
good sense and warmly attached
to the cause of the country—was
the only officer from Virginia and
commanded the largest regiment
in the army—and that he would
accordingly nominate him as their
chief. Shelby made this propo-sition
for the purpose of quieting
the expectations of some, that
Colonel McDowell should assume
the command. He was the senior
officer present, the army was
then in his military District, and
he had commanded during the
last summer against the same
enemy—was, moreover, a brave
man and a decided friend to the
American cause. But he was
considered too far advanced in
I life, and too inactive a man, to
take charge of such an enterprise,
against such an antagonist, as
was immediately before them.
—
McDowell proposed that he would
be the messenger to go for a
general officer. He started im-mediately,
and his brother, Joseph
McDowell, took command of his
men. On his way, about eight
miles from camp, he fell in with
Colonel James Williams, of South
Carolina and a number of other
field officers from that State, with
near four hundred men. The in-telligence
of this opportune re-inforcement,
McDowell communi-cated
by express. •
Gilbert Town is distinguished
as the extreme point of British
invasion, in the direction of the
home of the mountain men. To
that place Ferguson, in the exe-cution
of his vain threat to in-vade
and burn n-p their villages,
had advanced and there erected
His Majesty's standard, with the
double purpose of securing the
co-operation of the loyalists, and
of preventing the rising and con-centration
of the whigs. At that
place, he received intelligence of
the avalanche of indignant pat-riotism
accumulating along the
mountain, and ready to precipi-tate
itself upon, and overwhelm
his army. From that place, en-terprising
as he was, he found it
necessary to fall back and seek
safety by a junction with the
main army of Cornwallis, at
Charlotte. Every movement of
Ferguson, from the time he left
his camp at Gilbert Town, indi-cated
his apprehension of the im-pending
danger. He commanded
the loyalist militia, he importun-ed
them, he held out the language
of promise and of threatening, to
stimulate their allegiance and ex-cite
their courage. He called in
vain. A cloud was gathering
upon the mountain, and his loyal
militia knew, that it portended a
storm and a disastrous overthrow.
Ferguson changed his language
and appealed to them in the
390 Battle of Kinrfs Mountain. [Sept.,
words of bitter reproach and con-temptuous
ridicule. Ou his re-treat
he issued a circular to the
tory leaders, informing them of
"an inundation of barbarians,"
calls the patriotic ritlemen "the
dregs of mankind " and impor-tunes
his loyalists thus, " If you
wish to live and bear the name of
men, grasp your arms in a mo-ment
and run into camp. The
back-water men have crossed the
mountain, McDowell, Hampton,
Shelby and Cleaveland are at
their head—so that 3'ou know
what you have to depend on. If
you choose to be degraded for-ever
and ever b}- a set of mon-grels,
say so at once and let your
women turn their backs upon you,
and look out for real men to pro-tect
them."
After breaking up his camp at
Gilbert Town, Ferguson had dis-patched
Abram Collins and
Quinn, to Lord Cornwallis, in-forming
him of his critical situa-tion,
and begging a reinforce-ment.
After dispatching his let-ter,
he marched on the fourth over
Main Broad River to the Cow-pens.
On the fifth he continued
his march to Tates', since Dear's
ferry, where he again crossed and
camped about a mile above. On
the sixth, he marched about
fourteen miles, and formed his
camp ou an eminence, where he
waited for the expected reinforce-ments
of loyalists in the neigh-borhood
and of regulars from
the royal army. The loj'alty of
the former quailed at the approach
of the riflemen, and in this hour
of need, their assistance was
^Hthheld; they remained out of
the camp of Ferguson.
In the meantime, on Wednes-day,
the fourth of October, the
riflemen had advanced to Gilbert
Town. But Ferguson had de-camped,
having permitted many
of the loyalists to visit their
families, under engagement to
join him on the shortest notice.
—
He had taken a circuitous march
through the neighborhoods, in
which the tories principally re-sided,
to gain time and avoid the
riflemen, until his forces could be
collected and had joined him.
This retrogade movement be-trayed
his apprehensions, and
pointed out the necessit}' of a
vigorous effort to overtake him.
Having gained a knowledge of
his designs, the principal officers
determined in council to pursue
him with all possible despatch.
Accordingly, two nights before
the action, the officers were en-gaged
all night in selecting the
best men, the best horses, and the
best rifles, and at the dawn of day,
took Ferguson's trail and pur-sued
him with nine hundred and
ten expert marksmen, while those
on foot and with weak horses,
were ordered to follow on more
leisurely.
On the pursuit, the Americans
passed near where several large
parties of tories were collecting.
At the Cowpens, sixtj' men under
Col. Hambright and Major Chron-icle,
of Tryon count}-, and Col.
Williams with the South Carolina
troops joined them. Here thej-were
informed that a bod}- of six
hundred tories were assembled at
Maj. Gibb's four miles to the right,
and would join Ferguson the next
day. These they did not take time
to molest. The riflemen from the
1867. Battle of Jung's Mountain. 391
mountains had turned out to
catch Ferguson; he was their
object; and for the last thirty-six
hours of the pursuit, they never
alighted from their horses but
once to refresh, for an hour at the
Cowpens, although, the day of
the battle was so 'extremely wet,
that the men could only keep
their guns dry, b}- wrapping their
sacks, blankets and hunting-shirts
around the locks, thus exposing
their bodies to a heavy and in-cessant
rain. The trail every
hour became more fresh, and the
Americans hurried with eagerness
after the prey, which they de-termined
should not escape their
grasp. The advance met some
unarmed men, who were fresh
from Ferguson's camp, a short
halt was made and these men
were closely examined. From
them it was ascertained, that the
enemy was encamped three miles
l^efore them, and were to march
next morning to Lord Cornwallis'
Head-quarters; his position was
accurately described and the route
to the camp minutely given.
—
Colonel Williams and some of his
men were well acquainted with
the shape of the ground and the
approaches to it.
It was now after twelve o'clock;
the rain had ceased, the clouds
had passed off ; the sun shone
Ijrightly, and nature seemed to
smile upon the enterprise at hand.
It was determined to march at
once upon the camp, and decide
the conflict without further rest
or refreshment. Each man was
ordered to "tie up his over-coat
and blanket—throw the priming
out of his pan, pick his touch-hole—
prime anew, examine his
bullets and to see that everything
was in readiness for battle."—
AVhile this was being done, the
officers agreed upon the general
plan of attack, which was to sur-round
the eminence and make a
simultaneous assault upon every
part of the camp. The men were
soon in their saddles and upon
their march. When within a
mile of the battle ground, an ex-press
from Fex'guson was arrest-ed;
on whom was found a dispatch
to Lord Cornwallis, urging him
to send immediate reinforcements,
and stating the number under his
command; and that he was se-curely
encamped upon a hill,
which in honor of His Majesty, he
had named King's Mountain, and
that if all the rebels out of h—11
should attack him, they should
not drive him from it. The con-tents
of the dispatch were, with
the exception of the number of
the enemy, communicated to the
riflemen, the march was resumed,
their pace quickened, and they
rode in a gallop within view of
the camp of Ferguson.
A closer examination of the
ground and the position of the
enemy, demonstrated the feasi-bility
of the plan of attack al-ready
concerted by the officers.
—
More minute arrangements were
immediately made and carried
into execution. It was decided
that the troops commanded by
McDowell, Sevier, Shelby and
Campbell, being something more
than half of the whole number of
the assailants, after tying their
horses, should file to the right and
pass the crest of the mountain
nearly out of reach of the enemy's
suns, and continue around it till
392 Battle of Kinrfs Mountain. [Sept.,
they should meet the rest of the
troops encircling the mountain on
its other side, led by Hambright
and Chronicle, and followed by
Cleaveland and Williams; after
which, each command was to
face to the front, raise the Indian
war-whoop, and advance upon
the enemy. xlccordingly the
troops moved forward, and pass-ing
up a ravine, between two
rocky knolls, came in full view of
the enemy's camp above them,
and about one hundred poles in
front. Here they dismounted,
and having tied their horses, left
a small guard with them. The
right wing or column was led by
Winston and Sevier, the left by
Cleaveland and Williams; the cen-tre
was composed of Campbell's
men on the right, and Shelby's on
the left. In this order, each officer
having formed his ranks, led off at
the same time to the position as-signed
him, under pilots selected
from Col. Williams' men who
were familiar with the ground.
—
On its march around the mount-ain,
the right column discovered
that there were two gaps or de-pressions
in the ridge at the en-emy's
left flank—one about twen-ty
poles from it, the other fifty.
It was decided to pass through
the latter. About the time they
entered it, the enemy began to
fire upon them. The fire at first
did not attract attention, until
some of Shelby's men being
wounded, that officer and McDow-ell
determined to return the fire,
and before they had crossed the
ridge, broke off towards the
enemy, through the gap nearest
to his camp, and discharged their
rifles with great eftect. The rest
of the column under Campbell^
ascended the mountain, and pour-ed
in a deadly fire upon the ene-my,
posted upon its summit.
—
The firing became so heavy as-to
attract the attention of Fergu-son,
who immediately brought up
a part of his regulars from the
other end of his line, and a brisk
charge was made upon the Amer-ican
right, by the British regulars
and some of the tories. This
charge pushed McDowell, Shelby
and Campbell down the movint-ain.
At this moment, the left
column under Hambright, Chron-icle,
Cleaveland and Williams had
driven in the enemy's picquets at
the other extremity of the en-campment,
and advancing up the
mountain, poured in a well di-rected
fire on the enemy protected
here by their wagons and some
slight defences, and commanded
by Ferguson himself. Dupoister,
his second in command, was im-mediately
recalled, ordered into
line on the top of the ridge, and
directed to make a charge with
all the regulars upon the Ameri-cans
at that end of the encamp-ment.
On his passage to the re-lief
of Ferguson, Dupoister re-ceived
a galling fire from the
South Carolinians under Will-iams.
The regulars were soon
rallied, made a desperate charge^
and drove the riflemen to the foot
of the hill. There Major Chron-icle
fell.
In the mean time, the recall of
Dupoister from the charge at the
other extremity of the mountain,,
gave the appearance there of a
retreat on the part of the enemy,
and the men under Shelby,
McDowell and Campbell, having,
1867.] Battle of King''s Ilonntain. 393
recovered from the slight disor-ganization
produced by the first
charge, ralUed to the pursuit.
—
The cry was raised " huzza!
"boys, they are retreating; come
on I" They advanced with great
firmness up the hill, almost to
the lines of the encampment, and
for some time maintained a dead-'
ly conflict with the tory riflemen.
Ferguson, as before, decided to
resort again to the bayonet. But
the marksmen had so thinned
the ranks of the regulars, that
the expedient was adopted of
trimming the handles of the
butcher knives, and adapting them
to the muzzles of the tory rifles,
and of thus using them in the
charge. With the number of his
bayonets thus enlarged, Dupois-ter
returned to his first position,
and made another charge. It
was short, and feebly executed,
and the regulars fell back within
their lines.
About this time, the front of the
two American columns had met,
and the army of Ferguson was
surrounded by the riflemen.
Their firing became incessant and
general in all quarters, but es-pecially
at the two ends of the
enemy's lines. Sevier pressed
firmly and energetically against
its centre, and was in his turn
charged upon by the regulars.
The conflict here became stubborn
and drew to it much of the
enemy's force. This enabled
Shelby and Campbell to reach and
hold the crest of the mountain.
On all sides, now, the fire was
Ijrisk and deadly, and the charges
with the bayonet, though less
vigorous, were frequent. In all
cases where the enemy charged
the Americans on one side of the
hill, those on the other thought
he was retreating and advanced
near the summit. But in all
these movements, the left of
Ferguson's line was gradually re-ceeding
and the Americans were
plying their rifles with terrible
effect. Ferguson was still in the
heat of battle; with character-istic
coolness and daring, he order-ed
Captain Dupoister to reinforce
a position about one hundred
yards distant, with his regulars;
but before they reached it, they
were two much thinned by the
American rifles, to render any
effectual support. He then order-ed
his cavalry to mount, with the
view of making a desperate onset
at their head. But these only
presented a better mark for the
rifle and fell as fast as they could
mount their horses. He rode
from one end of his line to the
other encouraging his men to pro-long
the conflict. "With desperate
courage, he passed from one ex-posed
point, to another, of equal
danger. He carried in his wound-ed
hand, a shrill sounding silver
whistle, whose signal was univers-ally
known through the ranks,
—
was of immense service through-out
the battle, and gave a sort of
ubiquity to his movements.
But the Americans having
reached the top of the mountain,
were gradually compressing the
enemy, and the line of Ferguson's
encampment was sensibly con-tracted.
A white flag was raised
by the tories in token of surren-der.
Ferguson rode up to it and
pulled it down. A second flag
was raised, at the other end of
the line. He rode there too, and
394 Battle of Klnrfs Mountain. [Sept.,
cut it down with his sword. He
was frequently admonished by
Dupoister to surrender; hut his
proud spirit could not deign to
give up to raw and undisciplined
militia. When the second riag
was cut down, Dupoister renewed
his admonition. To this he re-plied,
by declaring, he would
never surrender to such a damned
set of banditti as the mountain
men. These men, while they ad-mired
the unyielding spirit of
Ferguson, had noticed that when-ever
his voice or his whistle was
heard, the enemy was inspirited
to another rally. They believed
that while he survived, his des-perate
courage would not permit
a surrender. He fell soon after
pierced by seven balls, and im-mediately
expired.
The forward movement of all
the American columns, brought
them to a level with the enemy's
guns, which heretofore in most
instances, had over-shot their
heads. The horizontal fire of the
regulars, was now considerably
fatal; but the rapid advance of
the riflemen, soon surrounded
both them and the tories, who
being crowded close together, and
cooped up into a narrow space by
the surrounding pressure of the
American troops, and fatally
galled by their incessant fire, lost
all hope from further resistance.
Dupoister, who succeeded Fergu-son
in command, perceiving that
further struggle was in vain,
raised the white flag, and cried
out for quarters. A general ces-sation
of the American fire fol-lowed
; but this cessation was not
complete. Some of the young
men did not understand the
meaning of a white flag; others
who did, knew that other flags
had been raised before; and were
quickly taken down. Shelby hal-looed
out to them to throw down
their guns, as all woul,d under-stand
that as a surrender. This
was immediately done. The arms
were now lying in front of the
prisoners, without any orders how
to dispose of them. Col. Shelby,,
seeing the facility with which the
enemy could resume their guns,
exclaimed, "Good God ! what
can we do in this confusion?" "We
can order the prisoners from their
arms" said Lieutenant Sawyers.
"Yes" said Shelby, "that can
be done." The prisoners were
accordingly marched to another
place, and there surrounded by a
double guard. Xearly all of the
enemy's guns were found loaded.
The battle lasted about an hour.
The loss of the enemy was two
hundred and twenty-five killed,
one hundred and eighty wounded
and seven hundred taken prison-ers.
Total loss of the enemy
eleven hundred and five. The
riflemen captured also fifteen
hundred stand of arms, a great
many horses, and wagons, loaded
with supplies, and booty of every
kind, which had been plundered
by the tories from the whigs.
The loss of the Americans was^
twenty-eight killed, and sixty
wounded. Of the former was
Colonel Williams, of South Caro-lina.
He fell a victim to the true
Palmetto spirit, and intemperate
eagerness for battle. Towards
the close of the engagement, he
espied Ferguson, riding near the
line and dashed toward him with
the ffallaut determination of a
mmmm
i^i\h''W,
<s-jy
1867. Battle of Kinrfs Mountain. 395
personal encounter. "I will kill
Perguson " exclaimed Col. Will-iams,
"or die in the attempt,"
and spurring his horse in the di-rection
of the enemy, received a
bullet as he crossed their line.
—
He survived till he heard that his
antagonist was killed, and his
camp surrendered, and amidst the
shouts of victory by his triumph-ant
countrymen, said, "I die
contented," and with a smile
upon his countenance, expired.
Major Chronicle, who, with
Col. Hambright led the left wing,
was, in passing around the end of
of the mountain, much exposed to
the fire of the enemy above them,
and little more than one hundred
yards distant. He fell early in
the engagement, while gallantly
repulsing the British charge. A
plain monument, erected at the
foot of the hill where he fell, at-tests
the grateful remembrance of
his countrymen. It bears this
inscription
:
Sacred
To the Memory of
Majok. William Chronicle,
Capt. Johx Mattocks,
William Kobe,
and
John Boyd,
who were killed at this j)lace,
on the 7th of October, 1780
fighting in defence of America.
On'the other side of the same
monument, facing the battle
ground is inscribed.
Col. Ferguson,
An officer of his Britanic Majesty,
was defeated and killed
At this place
on the 7th day of
October, 1780.
Of Col. Campbell's regiment,
VOL. III.—NO. V.
Lieutenant Edmondson, two oth-ers
of the same name and family,
and ten of their associates inarms,
were killed. The names of the
Virginia officers are Captains Dy-sart,
Colville, Edmondson, Beattie
and Craig. Lieutenants Ed-mondson
and Bowen. Ensign
Kobert Campbell, who killed the
British Adjutant, McGinnis, at
the head of a charging partj-.—
Captain Kobert Edmondson said
to one of his men, John McCrosky,
that he did not like his place, and
broke forward to the hottest part
of the battle, and there received
the charge of Dupoister's regulars,
he discharged his rifle, dubbed his
gun, knocked the musket out of
the hands of one of the British
soldiers, and seizing him by the
neck, made him his prisoner, and
brought him to the foot of the
hill. Eeturning again to the
British line, he received a mortal
wound in the breast. After the sur-render
McCrosky went in search
of his captain, and told liim the
battle was over, and the tories de-feated.
Edmondson nodded sat-isfaction
and died.
Of the wounded in Col. Shelby's
regiment was his brother, Moses
Shelby, who, in a bold attempt to
storm the enemy's camp, leaped
upon one of the wagons, out of
which the breastwork was form-ed,
and was wounded. Eagan
and some others were wounded
in the same way. Col. Snodgrass,
Captains Elliott, Maxwell and
Webb and Lieutenants Sawyers
all belonged to Shelby's regiment.
Of the regiment of Col. Sevier,
the captains were his two broth-ers,
Valentine Sevier, Kobert Se-vier,
Joel Callahan, George Do-
27
396 Battle of King''s Mountain. [Sept.^
harty, and George Eussell. Lieut.
Isaac Lane and Capt Robert Se-vier
were fatally wounded , but sur-vived
the battle a few days and were
buried at Bright's on the return
march. Among the privates were
four others of the Sevier family,
viz: Abraham Sevier, Joseph Se-vier,
and two of Col. Sevier's sons,
Joseph and James, the latter in
his sixteenth year.
William Lenoir, (afterwards
General Lenoir,) was a cap-tain
under Col. Winston from
Wilkes. He was encouraging the
men who had received Dupoister's
second charge, to load well and
make a bold push against their
assailants, when he received a
slight wound in his arm and an-other
in his side, while a bullet
passed through his hair, just be-low
the tie, without touching the
skin.
Besides these already named
there were in the 'battle of King's
Mountain other ardent patriots
and amateur fighters, who, un-able
to restrain their j)assion for
war, had volunteered on this oc-casion.
Amongst these were
Brandon and Lacy, and Col. Wm.
Hill* of South Carolina. The lat-ter
commanded one of the two
regiments engaged at Hanging
Rock. He was there severely
wounded in the shoulder and car-ried
the ball with him to his grave.
He was at home in York District,
being nursed, when the tories,
imder Col. Huck, came to it and
burned his Iron Works. This
was the only foundry for the cast-ing
of cannon and ball then in the
South. Huck burned furnace and
* Granafather of Gen. D. H. Hill.
forge, grist mill, saw mill, dwell-ing
and out-houses. Col. Hill
himself narrowly escaped with his
life. Some of his workmen were
brutally murdered. The tories
carried off one hundred negroes.
They would not permit Mrs. . Hill
to save any of her wearing appar-el,
and even took the wedding
ring oft' her finger. She escaped
with a babe in her arms and walk-ed
three miles to a neighbor's
house. In the mean time, Col.
Hill was so far recovered from his
wound as to enable him to be
present in the fight at King's
Mountain—though without com-mand.
It has already been men-tioned
that the pilots, under whose
lead the several commands reach-ed
the place assigned to each iu
the programme of the battle, were
selected from Col. Williams' men,
who were necessarily familiar with
the ground. Col. Hill was one of
these pilots, and it is well estab-lished
tradition that his familiari-t}'
with the eminence and its
surroundings, enabled him to sug-gest
to the commanders the plan
of the battle. It is history that
Avhen that plan was announced to
the council of officers, immediate-ly
before the action began, Sevier,
in his emphatic manner, clapping
his hands upon his sword, ex-claimed,
" Boys, by God, we have
got them I" and dashed to the
head of his men, and led them
into the^hottest of the fight.
The victory over Ferguson was
complete. Xot one of his men
—
regulars or tories—escaped. Be-ing
surrounded from the com-mencement
of the battle hj the
riflemen, all were either killed or
captured. The army encamped
1867.] Battle of King''s Mountain. 397
upon the battle ground the night
of the seventh. They had more
prisoners than whigs with whom
to guard them. They were in the
neighborhood of several parties
of tories, and had reason to ex-pect
that Tarleton or some re-inforcements
from Cornwallis,
would attempt either to pursue or
to intercept them. The next day
was the Sabbath. Its dawn was
solemnized by the burial of the
dead. This mournful duty per-formed,
the enemy's wagons were
drawn by the men across their
camp-fires, and after they were
consumed, the return march was
commenced.
As there was no other method
of transporting the arms that had
been captured, the strong and
healthy prisoners were required
to carry them. The flints were
taken from the locks, and the
most vigilant espionage kept over
the prisoners by the troops, who
marched the whole day, at a pre-sent.
Xo escape or rescue was
attempted. At sundown they
met the men they had left on foot
on their hurried march to the
battle. The march was continued
pretty close to the mountain, till
the fourteenth, when a court-martial
was held, over some of
the prisoners. A few for de-sertion,
others for greater crimes
and some for the atrocities and
murders perpetrated at Hill's
Iron Works, were convicted and
sentenced to be hung. The num-ber
bi-ought under the gallows
was thirt^'-two. Xine of these
only were executed. Among
these were, Colonel Mills, a tory
leader, and Captain Grimes, a
refugee tory from "Watauga. The
rest were respited.
Apprehending pursuit by Lord
Cornwallis, whose head-quarters
were close at hand across the
Catawba, in Mecklenburg county^
and determined to escape with
their seven hundred prisoners and
their fifteen hundred stand of
arms, the colonels led off their
victorious troops with their valu-able
spoils, to some place of safety
in the direction of Virginia.
—
Sevier and his comrades re-cross-ed
the Alleghany and remained
in arms upon their own frontier.
Campbell, Shelby and Cleaveland
continued the march, with the
prisoners, in search of some po-sition
of greater security. Pass-ing
through Hillsboro' where Gen.
Gates then had his Head-quarters,
these oflicers, made out their of-ficial
report to that unfortunate
commander.
The loyalists in the midst of the
consternation that had been ex-cited
by the arrival of the rifie-men,
endeavored, to communicate
with Cornwallis, at Charlotte.
Some nights before the battle, two
men came to the house of a Mr.
Henr}^, in York district, and had
supper given to them. After this
two of Mr. Henry's sons came in
from the Eebel army, and recog-nized
the guests as tories. The
brothers took the father out and
told him that he was entertaining
spies and insisted upon shooting
them. The old man said that
they had broken bread with him,
and were sacred. An angry al-tercation
took place between the
father and sons. The latter
agreed at length not to molest the
men while in the house. They
raised the neighbors, however,
and gave hot chase the next day.
398 Battle of Kinrfs Ilountain. [Sept.,
The spies fled toward Charlotte,
whither they were carrying dis-patches
to Cornwallis. The wliole
country was out after them, and
they got no farther than Bethel,
where they lay hid a day or two
in the barn of a tory. It was
ever after believed that if these
spies had reached Cornwallis,
either the battle would not have
been gained, or the fruits of it
would have been lost.
Cornwallis, however, had heard
from another source that Fergu-son
was in danger, and on the
10th he dispatched Tarleton with
the light-infanty—the British Le-gion
and a three-pounder, to as-sist
Ferguson, of whose misfor-tunes
he had yet no certain intel-ligence.
Tarleton's instructions
directed him to re-inforce Fer-guson
wherever he might find
him, and to draw his corps to the
Catawba, if after the junction ad-vantage
could, not be obtained
over the mountaineers; or upon
the certainty of his defeat, at all
events, to oppose the entrance of
the victorious Americans into
South Carolina. After the de-parture
of Tarleton, intelligence
reached Head-quarters, of Fer-guson's
defeat, and Cornwallis de-termined
suddenly to retreat from
Charlotte, which was done in
haste and much confusion, on the
night of the 10th. Eumor had
magnified the march of the rifle-men
with their prisoners, as an
advance of Americans, three
thousand strong, upon Cornwallis
himself, and to avoid another dis-aster—
he precipitately crossed the
Catawba and fell back to "Winns-boro'.
Tarleton on his fruitless route
to the assistance of Ferguson,
had pressed into his service a
Mecklenburg whig, whom he
forced in as guide through an in-tricate
way to a ford on Catawba.
The guide deceived him and led
the dragoons to a crossing place,
that Avas found to be impractica-ble.
Tarleton was now re-called
and Xorth Carolina, for the pre-sent,
evacuated.
General Bernard, an ofticer un-der
Napoleon, and afterwards in
the United States Engineer ser-vice,
on examining the battle-ground
of King's Mountain, said;
" The Americans, by their vic-tory
in that engagement, erected
a monument to perpetuate the
memory of the brave men, who
had fallen there ; and the shape of
the hill itself, would be an eternal
monument of the military genius
and skill of Colonel Ferguson, in
selecting a position so well adapt-ed
for defence; and that no other
plan of assault but that pursued
by the mountain men, could have
succeeded against him."
In speaking of the same battle,
Mr. Jefterson said, "I remember
well the deep and grateful im-pression
made on the mind of
every one, by that ever memorable
victory. It was the jo3-ful enunci-ation
of that turn in the tide of
success, that terminated the revo-lutionary
war with the seal of our
Independence."
Most trul}^ was this said by Mr.
Jefterson. It was indeed the turn
in the tide of success. Heretofore,
all had been gloom and doubt,
uncertainty and discouragement.
After the victory of King's
Mountain, the American arms
never again suftered a real de-
18G7.] Battle of Kinrfs Ilountain. 399
feat. They triumphed soon after
at the Cowpens, and more than
sustained tliemselves at Guilford
Court House, conquered at Eu-taw—
and captured Cornwallis
and his whole army at Yorktown,
and conquered a peace and se-cured
American Independence.
It is pleasant to know that as
the battle and victory of King's
Mountain was the best fought
and most decisive, of any that oc-curred
in the war, so the whole
campaign reflects the most en-during
honor upon the master
spirits of the day, whose patriot-ism
conceived, and whose valor
carried it into execution. The
whole history of the expedition
demonstrates that the mountain
men who undertook it, were not
actuated by any apprehension that
Ferguson would attempt the exe-cution
of his idle threat against
themselves. For, to these mount-aineers,
nothing than such a
scheme would make prettier game
for their rifles; nothing more de-sirable
than to entice such an
enemy, from his pleasant roads,
rich plantations and gentle cli-mate,
with his ponderous baggage,
valuable armory, and the booty and
spoils of his loyalists, into the
very centre of their own fast-nesses,
to hang upon his flank,
to pick up his stragglers, to cut
ofi" his foragers, to make short
and desperate sallies upon his
camp, and finally to make him a
certain prey without a struggle,
and without a loss.
Xor was it the authority, or
influence of the State nor of the
Government, that led to this
hazardous service, or prompted
this campaign. Many of these
volunteers knew not whether to
any, or to what State they be-longed.
Insulated by mountain
barriers, and in consequent se-clusion
from their Eastern and
Korthern friends, they were living
in primitive independence, where
British taxation and aggression
had not reached. It was a gra-tuitous
and unselfish patriotism,
that incited their enterprise. In
those days, to know that Ameri-can
liberty was invaded, and that
the only apparent alternative in
the case, was American inde-pendence
or subjugation, was
enough to nerve their hearts, to
the boldest pulsations of freedom,
and to ripen their purposes to the
fullest determination of putting
down the aggressor.^-"
It has been said that the pat-riotism
of the riflemen was gra-tuitous
and unselfish. It was em-inently
so. Not a single volun-teer
received a dollar—much, less
a bounty—for his expenses, his
equipments—his toils or his suf-ferings.
Each one scorned and
discarded the belittling influence
of money. Kobler impulses glow-ed
in their bosom, and actuated
their conduct. They defended
and fought for right, conscience,
liberty and self-government.
—
They asked for, and expected no
other reward. This achieved,
'
they were disbanded. Toils and
marches, and watches by night
and by day were cheerfully en-dured,
and wherever the enemy
could be found, his camp assaulted
or his breast-works stormed, the
rifleman was there, ready, with
his spirited charger, his war-
* Foster.
400 In Memory of Major T. M. JV. [Sept.,
whoop and his rifle, to execute der were taken by them. Their
the purpose of his mission. integrity and honor, were as little
The enemy—both British and impeached or stained as their
loyalists, in defiance of the true valor. They went home enriched
spirit of genuine chivalry, in- by no spoils, stained by no dis-sulted
and warred against non- honor; enriched only by an im-combatants
and burned, destroy- perishable fame, an undying re-ed
or appropriated private pro- nowu and unquestionable claim to
perty. But to the honor of the the admiration and gratitude of
riflemen, no such spoils or plun- their countrymen and of posterity.
IK 3IE3IORY OF :SIA.JOR T. M. X.
jEtat. 71
They fail from council and from camp I They are falling one by one !
Those grand old heroes of the stamp of God-loved Washington!
The task is wrought, of mighty mex, their glorious day is done
And Freedom mourns a faded star with every setting sun.
The mould is broken! here no more those regal souls we meet,
Who kept their honor tho' the world had rocked beneath their feet,
With that clear dignity that shone no clearer for renown,
That matchless majesty that won but would not icear a crown.
The massive brow! the kindly hand! the proud and stalwart form.
That stood as beacons in the night, as bulwarks in the storm
!
How few and far in Glory's slope, their less'ning numbers stand!
The Pillars of a People's hope! The Titans of the laud!
jSTow! when descends the sullen night, our country's darkest hour,
When Demagogue and Parasite defile the seats of Power
;
When dust is on the Eagle's crest, and stain on stripe and star,
Whose limbs shall fill their robes in peace, or lift their swords in war?
/One more to that immortal band! that long illustrious line.
That courts no nobler name, old Friend! no purer soul than thine!
Thou! with the Mighty in their death, their rest and their reward,
Sleep! in thy cloudless Fame and Faith! Oh! Soldier of the Lord!
Yea! with the Mighty in thy death! yet not with these alone,
With many a loving heart that beat most truly to thine own
;
Sleep! with the Sword-Cross on thy breast, the well-worn scabbard by,
Fit symbols of a Soldier's rest, and his reward on high!
1867.] Venezuelan Emigration. 401
VENEZUELAN EMIGRATION.
I have been so much struck by the
excellence of the scheme proposed,
that perhaps you will allow me
space to express my opinion. It
is difficult to define the principles
of colonization, because so much
has been said upon the subject;
yet the matter is plain enough.
—
There are colonies which bear a
Greek, others a Roman, type, and
little light is thrown upon mod-ern
emigration, when they are
spoken of so confidently. In the
present day settlements, like the
military Eoman, are rare, but it
will ever be regretted, if colonists
lose that fine sense of the sacred
fire burning in the hearths of their
mother-country, which character-ized
the Greek reluctantly quit-ting
all his most cherished asso-ciations,
yet determined to pre-serve
them in his new abode. If
that sense be lost, all is lost, what-ever
territorial advantages a new
colony may claim for itself. Chios,
the famous Greek island, one of
whose chief cities contended for
the honor of having given birth
to Homer, is an instance in point.
How prosperous she was. Why
did she fall except through cruel
oppression? In an emigration
scheme it is necessary that moral
and social qualities be combined
in happy union. The Southern
States fortunately possess this req-uisite
combination. The colo-nists
cannot be accused of a de-ficiency
in patriotism, when that
public virtue has been exhibited
through a long career. There is
a brilliant future in Venezuela.—
Those who emisrrate have no cow-ardly
misgivings for their old
country, but justly imagine that
a great people will always be
great, wherever it is fixed. Ven-ezuela
has met them with thor-ough
congeniality ; her land is
given freely, because she is glad
to welcome colonists who will do
her honor. In their turn they
have responded to the oflfer, I per-ceive
by the published papers.
—
It is a most well-timed concur-rence
of ideas when a government
gives 210,000 square miles to Dr.
Price, and the grantee uses the
really large empire conceded for
the benefit of his country. The
colonists are to be, as far as my
knowledge extends, allowed free
institutions—in other words the
old institutions of England and
the Southern States. Efficient
support will be rendered in Eng-land,
and indeed has already been
rendered by a distinguished South-ern
lady whose husband is the
sole attorney of Dr. Price. As
became her sex, she has provided
for the moral wants of the infant
colony. Making an appeal to
the English public, she has been
able to get together a noble libra-ry,
besides other things essential
for a young State, Two men of
eminence in England must be
mentioned with the highest praise
The Bishop of Llandaff and Can-on
Dale at once brought the
claims of the library, and the nat-ural
wants of the new settlement,
before the great English society
which specially takes under its
charge religion and education
the Christian Knowledge Society.
402 Venezuelan Emigration. [Sept.^
The result was what might have
heen expected. The Society was
delighted at the opportunity of
promoting religious and educa-tional
development in America.
But so were other Societies,
amongst whom I must particular-ize
the 'British and Foreign Bible,'
and the 'Dublin Tract. ' Individ-uals
have been equally active,
amongst them some of our most
eminent clergy and leading ladies.
Where all have done service, it
is invidious to particularize, but I
should do great injustice if I were
not to call special attention to the
donations ofMrs. Liscombe Clarke,
the widow ofone ofthe great eccle-siastical
dignitaries connected with
an ancient English cathedral.
—
It would indeed be hard if human-ity
were not supported by the
high and intellectual consolations
which alone render it supportable.
The library is a pleasing stream
flowing by the side of the thorny
paths which beset the course of
every emigrant; all that makes a
colony lovely ought to be encour-aged.
I must, before concluding, say a
word about Venezuela herself.
The soil is fertile—Humboldt,
none of Avhose prophecies has ever
failed of realization, pronounced
Venezuela the future queen of
cotton, and his opinion has been
corroborated by Mr. Linden, who
directs both the Jardin d' Accli-mation
at Paris and the Zo-ological
Gardens of Brussels.
—
Caraccas is also allowed to be the
best tobacco-exporting town in
the world. With such natural
advantages, what will be the re-sult
when an industrious English
population—I say English ad-visedly,
for in England we do not
make the mistake of calling the
Southerners, Americans, we style
them English—settle in this too
much neglected portion of the
globe. There is not much fear
that they will be without good
government. The people which
produced such generals and states-men
as Washington, Alexander
Hamilton, Calhoun, Clay, Kobert
E. Lee, Stonewall Jackson, and
last, but not least Jefferson Davis^
will fulfill Mr. Gladstone's bril-liant
statement in their new
colony. OxoxiENSis..
Oxford, England, July 21, 1S67.
w
1867.] _ Truth. 403
TRUTH
What the Schoolmistress read to her Little Flock.
" The Schoolmistress was polite enough to say she would read it
next day to her little flock. But she would tell the children, she
said that there were better reasons for truth, than could be found
in mere experience of its convenience, and the inconvenience of
lying."
—
Autocrat of the Brcal'fast-tahle.
Come my children listen to me
While I tell you a story,
Which contains a life-long lesson
Folded in an allegory.
Years ago when I was younger
Than the youngest of you all,
Nothing but a little toddler
Scarcely yet ashamed to crawl
;
Came to me two lovely beings
On a glorious summer's day,
, As I wandered 'mid the flowers
In an idle child-like way.
One was dressed in snowy garments
And her face was lily-fair.
Whilst her eyes like blue wood-violets
Beamed beneath her golden hair.
With a smile serene and gentle,
In my outstretched hand she placed
Ivory-blocks of snowy whiteness.
Golden letters on them traced.
Dressed in rainbow hues the other,
And her hair was black as night
Glowed her cheeks like full-blown roses
'Xeath her dark eyes' flashing light.
Joyous was her laugh and ringing
As she said with mocking grace,
" Blocks of Truth won't roll my darling
Take my play things in their place."
In my hand she placed, while speaking,
Balls of many a varied hue,
Purple—crimson—green and golden
Mottling into pink and blue.
404 Truth. [Sept.,
Ail were difterent—but on each
Three small letters might be seen,
Shifting, changing,—hither, thither,
Now in purple, then in green.
Both their gifts with childish longing
In my eager hands I grasped,
Kever pausing to consider
What it was that thus I clasped.
Unto me they were but play-things
At my will to toss about.
So upon the grass I threw them
With a merry joyous shout.
Kow the blocks I shook and rattled.
Then the balls I rolled away.
Caring not where either went to
So I had ray hour of play.
But the balls while smoothing gliding
Just where I would have them go
Soon were faded, stained and tarnished
While the blocks were white as snow.
Then I found I could not trust them,
From my reach they'd glide away,
And although with care I placed them,
Where I put them would not stay.
One I valued more than any,
Streaked with crimson, flecked with gold.
As I dropped it from vaj fingers
Underneath a rose bush rolled;
But with rapid steps I followed
And in eager child-like way,
Soon was groping 'neath the branches
Where I fancied that it lay.
But my hands were scratched and bleeding,
And my white dress torn and stained,
Whilst I wept in bitter sorrow
E'er my treasure I regained.
Then as I grew older, wiser.
And could read the letters three,
Hid beneath the shifting colors
I deciphered L. I. E.
1867.] Perfect Through Suffering. ^5
And I dropped the balls of Falsehood,
Took the snow-white blocks instead
Where engraved in golden letters
" Truth " on every one I read.
Thus I early learned a lesson
—
Which to you I fain would teach,
Falsehoods though they roll so smoothly
Often glide beyond our reach
;
And a lie we cannot follow
Through the devious ways 'twill roll
Without many a spot and blemish
To the garments of the soul.
So remember little children
Ever to your dying day
—
That tlie pleasure falsehood gives you
For its evils will not pay.
And though Truth won't roll nor glitter
With the rain-bow's shifting dyes
In the end you'll always find it
Surer than convenient lies.
PERFECT THROUGH SUFFERING*
ADAM REDiA'ivus. lasts childhood. Eegularly beau-
" My daughter, Mary, Mr. La f''^ f^
""^"^^^'fy
^^^ ^«t' ^"^
Fronde-I expect you to be good ^^^
^^^f^.^^ ^^ appearance, ex-n
1 ,, rr'i J „ • -^ treme delicacy of figure, and,
friends." The words rang out in , ,, .-^ .,.^ -, I
^r T7I IT. 4- T 1 4- 1 above all, a tragilitv and sort of Mr. Franklin's most cordial style, , ^ \ °, . ;
-, -r . 1 , T . XI T tender sadness which were prob- and Louis, who stood in the li- , , ^, ,, ^ , , n
, n .
,
1 T
1
• e ably the result of her state of
b,ra1ry1of theXsplTen,did mans1i1on-of , Vi • ^ -i , health, invested her with attrac-the
speaker, turned towards him ,
.
, . , -, ,
. II- 1 1 J XX tions which seemed to appeal
to make his acknowledgment to , , . ^,^
thp -oi crl 1 tl 1- f-nnk1 and ® sympathies, as well as
° .'
1 X 1 X 1 • the attention, of the beholder,
unceremoniously presented to his ^, ,,.,,
.. She responded with a grave se-
^OtlCe. -x X XI 4-1 4.- e
ou X n c 1 1 1
• renity to the courtly greeting of
She was a tall, refined looking ,
-^
,, ° x ?•
. 1 « . I-, -xi T -1 the young gentleman, extending
girl, fair as any lily, with limpid -, •;. ,° ," ] , -,
f, 1 1, - 4? XT, 4?x a delicate transparent hand, re-blue
eyes, and hair of the soft nil , -, ,, , x t • -h , . , , X peated the welcome to Louisville
yellow shade, which so rarely out- ^,. , ,. .^. -. ^ ' which his position as a member of
* Continued from page 304. her father's household seemed to
406 Perfect Through Sabering. [Sept.,
demand. She did not confine her
cordiality to words, "but in her
intercourse with Mr. La Fronde,
she strove, by every gentle office
within her reach, to make him
forget that he was a stranger and
induce him to feel himself at
home.
A home it was, in the fullest
sense of the word, and Loui, for
the first time in his life, olDtained
an insight into the pure enjoy-ment
of domestic life and the
blessings of a household whose
governing principle was peace and
good will to all.
Xever were there two persons
who understood more thoroughly
than Mr. and Mrs. Franklin did,
the meaning of the pleasant Pagan
admonition, "Carpe diem."
They not only seized every day,
but contrived that each of its
hours should pass freighted Avith
some amusement or enjoyment,
carrying out in all their devices
the principle of the greatest good
to the largest number, to its full-est
extent. Hospitality held her
head-quarters in their gay and
charming home, and the name of
their friends was legion, while
their perfect oneness of sentiment
and mutual love had passed al-most
into a proverb. A long
life of prosperity had been
theirs, chequered now and then
by the death of fair and tenderly
loved children who passed away
almost before their parents had
begun to realize that their birth
conferred an added enjoyment to
the happiness which had been
perfect without them.
Mr. Franklin was one of those
men in whom all elements of char-acter
seemed to blend in harmo-nious
union, and who at the same
time possessed the power of calling
out whatever was best and noblest
in the nature of those with whom
he was associated. Cordial, ut-terly
unselfish, and possessed of
an honest frankness, which seems
to be the special characteristic of
his State, his great learning, ready
wit, and indomitable good nature,
gave him a passport to every heart,
and as honors and wealth poured
in upon him, his heart, instead of
contracting and growing hard
under their influence, seemed to
expand into increased benevo-lence
and generosity to all his
kind.
Mrs. Franklin, the belle of her
day, lost none of her attractive
qualities by becoming the wife of
one so unusually beloved as her
husband. Their house became
the nucleus around which was
gathered, not only the brightest
spirits of Louisville, but of the
entire State, and when, after
having served a number of terms
in the Legislature of Kentucky,
Mr, Franklin was elected to Con-gress,
the popularity which had
attended them at home accompa-nied
them to Washington, and
their reputation became cosmo-politan.
Beautiful in ]3erson, witli^ a ma-jestic
dignity of manner which
would have graced a crowned
head, Mrs. Franklin made a
queen indeed, and in genuine
largeness of heart, geniality of
disposition, was a helpmeet well
worthy her husband.
Mary at her birth exhibited the
same delicacy of constitution
which had distinguished her little
sisters and brothers, and for a
18G7.1 Perfect Through Suffering. 407
long time, it seemed a certainty
that she would add another to the
little rosewood coffins which lay
in the family vault. But the cease-less
care which was exerted in
her behalf appeared to baffle the
inherent disease, and she lived on,
though more like some frail plant,
than a human being.
Her parents, who had felt the
loss of their other children more
as a shadowy grief than with the
bitterness of real sorrow, found in
this living one an amount of hap-piness
which they had never be-fore
considered essential, and
poured out the deepest feelings of
their hearts upon her. Their af-fection
for her, however, did not
resemble the warm and devoted
love they gave each other, but be-came
etherealized, as it were, and
sublimated to a higher and more
spiritual nature.
Indeed everything pertaining to
the gentle girl so appropriately
named Mary, seemed to partake
of a pure and elevated character,
and to become spiritualized by the
mere impress of her individuality.
So apparent was this emenation,
even from her babyhood, that in-stead
of the usual pet names which
cluster round the cherished dar-ling
of a home, her parents in-stinc^
ely adopted the one of
" little angel." The title was fast
becoming a household word, when
"the protest against its use by
Mary's old nurse, on the ground
that a baby thus called never grew
to childhood, caused it to be tac-itly
abandoned. Though, as she
grew on and on in her winning
loveliness, the little one became
more and more confirmed in char-acter
to the ano;elic ministrants
with whom she seemed worth}- to
hold unseen communion.
As is often the case, permitted,
it would seem, by the direction of
a special Providence, the child,
unconsciously influenced by the
precarious condition of her health,
obtained a familiarity with death
which robbed it of half its terrors.
Debarred from the sports and
amusements of hardier and more
material children, and accustom-ed
to the society of persons much
older and more advanced than
herself, she acquired an amount of
general information far beyond
her years, without losing in any
degree the sweet simplicity of
character which formed one of her
loveliest traits. Holding commun-ion
with herself, as she sat si-lent
but most observant, in the
brilliant re-unions in which were
gathered the greatest minds of the
age, the girl learned to create for
herself an inner world in which
she mostly lived, peopling it with
spiritual denizens as pure and
guileless as herself. She had lit-tle
knowledge of spiritual life in
any higher form of expression, for
Mr. and Mrs. Franklin, though
morally almost joerfect, and so
far as regarded their observance
of all acts in which their neighbor
is concerned, possessed little
more acquaintance with real vital
religion, than if they had been a
couple of highly refined and very
charming heathen.
Their pew, with its cushions
and lining of purple velvet, was
occupied with tolerable regularity,
and, so far as a decent outward
regard for the observance of the
Sabbath was concerned, it was
kept holy. But there was no at-
408 Perfect Through Suffering. [Sept.,
tempt made at even a form of
Godliness, and whatever good seed
fell from the pulpit upon their
hearts was soon choked by the
pleasures and riches of the Avorld.
When IMary was twelve years
old, she was too unwell to ac-company
her parents to Wash-ington,
and was placed with a
relative of her mother's who lived
in Mississippi. Happily for the
girl, this lady, in addition to an
uncommon loveliness of disposi-tion,
united a piety as deep as it
was unostentatious, and, under
her gentle teachings, Mary Frank-lin
was led into that path whose
ways are pleasantness and the end
everlasting life. So much at-tached
did she become to her af-fectionate
instructress, that it was
with almost a feeling of relief that
she received the intimation that
her father preferred her remain-ing
in the quiet and healthfulness
of her rural home, rather than
have her subjected to the heat,
dust, bustle and general discom-fort,
which make up the concomi-tants
of Washington life during
the Long Session. The blessed
influences thus exerted upon the
mind of one so wise, and yet so
humble as Mary, did not pass
away when she was removed from
the sphere of their immediate ac-tion.
She returned to her luxuri-ous
home, and to all outward ap-peai'ance,
was the same quiet girl,
whose pre-disposition to gravity,
and disinclination for the gayety
in which her parents delighted,
formed the only instance of a
want of congeniality between
them. But with her, inwardly,
"old things had passed away and
all things had become new," and,
from henceforth, her heart was
filled with " the peace which
passeth all understanding," and
which overflowed through her
life in an hundred streams of
charity and love.
Her parents knew nothing af
the new source of happiness
which filled the life of their child,
and replaced with a sweet con-tentment,
the spirit of unrest
which, indefinable, but most clear-ly
apparent, had hitherto inter-posed
itself between her and en-joyment.
They were certainly aware of a
change which had removed the
slight irritability so common to in-valids,
and which formed the only
blemish on her otherwise lovely
charactei". And, as the time went
on, and the girl's religious im-pressions
attained strength and
permanency, the gravity of her
manner was merged into a uni-form
cheerfulness, with a pensive
cast upon it, which somehow af-fected
one with the same sense of
repose which is produced by the
silvery shower of the morn falling
upon the luxuriant foliage of some
strong-rooted tree.
She was too timid and too reti-cent
to speak much of herself, the
more so, that she dreaded that a
source of so much happiness to
her should make a barrier between
herself and her beloved parents,
and charge them with wrong as
it would tacitly seem to do. So
she buried it deep in her own
young heart and stood, by acts of
piety and devotion, to exemplify
the motive spring of her existence.
Such she was at the time of her
felher's return, and the introduc-tion
of Mr. La Fonde into the
1867.] Perfect Through Suffering. 409
household of which he speedily be-came
the asknowledged favorite.
Mr. Franklin, who began by
giving a dozen good qualities on
trust, soon found enough material
to warrant his contidence and just-ify
a still larger advance of it.
—
Loui was moral, daintily fastidi-ous
in his associations, scrupu-lously
high-toned and honorable
as the world's code of honor goes,
and withal, his finished education,
knowledge of the world, and un-doubted
talents, were greatly in
his favor, and Mr. Franklin look-ed
no deeper into his character,
and asked no higher degree of ex-cellence.
With Mrs. Franklin his ease,
savoir faire, and perfect grace of
manner were enchanting, and she
soon learned to look on his com-panionship
as a positive necessity,
and treated him with a charming
mixture of feminine dignity and
motherly fondness. Loui respond-ed
most gracefully, installed her
in the place in his aftections made
vacant by separation from his
aunt, and submitted to the course
of attention which she applied
with a lazy nonchalance, which
seemed as if he were accepting a
right.
There was something about the
imperious beauty and half scorn-ful
indifterence of manner that
marked the heir of La Fronde,
which was indescribably attract-ive
to every member of the softer
sex with whom he might be thrown
into association, and it seemed the
most natural thing in the world
to pet him and ofter him delicate
favors, which would have been re-fused
with indignation were a less
gifted person in question.
Gifted he certainly was in all
that is brilliant and attractive,
and with this addition to its oth-er
charms, the house of Mr.
Franklin became gayer and more
popular than ever.
As the wmter melted into
spring the household was engaged
in a perfect whirl of fashionable
dissipation, and every expedient
by which great wealth and bound-less
liberality could be made to
minister to luxury and enjoyment,
was successfully resorted to, and
the result was a state of life which
tended to remove effectually from
Loui's mind, all traces of the hor-rible
scene which had so lately
transpired.
Mary Franklin moved through
the wild gayety around her, in it,
but not of it; gentle and ever
compliant to the wishes of others,
no one suspected that her par-ticipation
in scenes in which
young girls of her age find so
much delight, Avas a matter of
positive self-sacrifice, which would
have been actual pain, but for a
new source of happiness which,
powerful as the prophet's rod,
budded, flowered, and bore fruit
almost simultaneously.
How it came, or whence it
emanated, was a matter of pro-found
ignorance to the timid
creature, who knowing that her
heart was suffused with a new,
strange joy, rested content in that
knowledge and, under its sub-duing
influence, grew happier and
more placid as the days went on.
The inevitable sequences, old as
the earth, when the premises
given are too young hearts thrown
Into constant companionship, was
re-produced in Mary's case, and
410 Perfect Through Suffering. [Sept.,
without owning the fact even to
her own heart, she loved Loui La
Fronde with an absolute devotion,
all the stronger that her nature
was in general, calm and unde-monstrative.
She made no more
examination into the source or
springs of her feelings than a bird
does when under the skies of
spring she turns instinctively to
her mate, but poured out the
wealth of her guileless adoration
on a man, who regarded her as he
did the memory of some medieval
saint, a something sweet, serene,
half holy, but utterly beyond the
reach of human life and human
love. It was the old story of
Clyte and the Apollo—the poor
little flower gazed upwards to the
Majesty blazing above her, thank-ful
for the brightness which glori-fied
her existence even though
shared in common with the Uni-verse,
and the Sun rode through
his golden path without even a
thought of the fragile creature
whose life was merged in his
splendor.
Yet despite his utter personal
indifference to Miss Franklin,
Lou.i was subject to an uncon-scious,
but most powerful influ-ence,
of which she was the cause.
Her^ loveliness, perfect purit}^,
and utter unworldliness, appealed
to his delicately sensitive percep-tions,
and through her, he learned
to award to her entire sex an
amount of respect which com-pletely
reversed his former con-victions
in regard to them.
As strange as it seems, by the
mysterious workings of that com-plicated
and exquisitely delicate
machinery which propels the
world of thou2;ht and the inner-life,
Loui, under the influence,
now indirectly affecting him, was
actually learning to love, not her
who produced it, but the original
of the lovely i^icture which lay
nestling on his heart.
Mary did not suffer in the
article of lovers, for in addition
to her personal attractions and
refined manners, her father's
wealth and great popularity made
her an object of almost universal
interest. One gentleman, in par-ticular,
had been exceedingly de-voted
previous to her visit to
Mississippi, and on her return, he
renewed his attentions in so un-mistakable
a manner as to leave
no doubt of his affection or desire
for its reciprocation. To the as-tonishment
of her own family and
the circle in which she moved,
when Mr. Cameron presented
himself as a formal candidate for
her hand, he was mildly but so
decidedly rejected, that, convinced
of her unalterable determination,
he gave a public vent to his dis-appointment,
and left Louisville.
The family were assembled one
rainy night in Mr. Franklin's
cosy sitting room, sacred to them
and a few very intimate friends,
and on some chance remark being
made Avhich re-called Mary's
lover and the unusual effect her
rejection had produced on him,
Mr. Franklin began to banter her
in his usual playful stj'le.
"Well, Lady," he said, ad-dressing
her by the pet name al-most
as much used as her bap-tismal
one, "Confess now, as we
are in private, your reason for re-fusing
a man who has every
quality for gaining a woman's
affection, and seems fitted in every
1867.] Perfect Through Suffering. 411
respect, to secure it. Come, sweet,
why didn't you marry Cameron?"
Stie bent her head over the
pretty crochet work in her slight
hands, and, while her fair face
flashed rosy pink as the lining of
a shell, she said quietly, "Father,
I did'nt love him."
"I think, my dear, said Mrs.
Pranklin, looking up from the
game of ecarte which she was
playing with Loui, " that you
scarcely allowed yourself time
enough to know your real feelings
on the subject."
"Feeling is not a matter of
time mother, nor is love," was the
quiet reply.
"Hurrah for my Lady!" ex-claimed
her father, who regarded
all she said or did with the de-light
mingled with surprise which
one displays at the unexpected
acumen of a little child. "My
dear, I think she has you there!
But it ieelmg and love is not a
matter of time, of what is it Lady
Bird?" and he patted the bended
head.
"Of the heart, father," she
said, looking earnestly at him.
"Heyday," he laughed in re-turn,
as he winked towards his
wife, "here is a feminine Saul
among the prophets—what do you
know of hearts and love, Rose-bud?"
"Enough to know that I did
not love Mr. Cameron," was the
reply, in a tone of quiet decision;
" You are your father's own
child, sweet—reasoning in a circle,
and not to be driven, b}- any
amount of argument, from your
position! Will you please to in-form
me how you know you didn't
love Mr. Cameron?"
VOL. Ill NO. V.
" Yes, father," she said simply,
while the crotchet needle of gold
and mother of pearl seemed to fly
through her fingers. " I never
blushed when he came, nor sighed
when he went away, and my heart
never told me when he was near,
as I know it would do if I loved
him—I did not wonder if I could
be worthy of him, or fear I could
never, do what I might, be
able to gain his love—I didn't feel
that he was my very life—I didn't
—I didn't love him, father!"
"Did 3'ouever love any body.
Pet?" said her father, half in earn-est.
" By Jove, my dear, your
daughter is indeed an adept in ars
amandi! La Fronde, if you desire
any information in the premises,
I advise you to call on this young
professor!" and Mr. Franklin
pinched the cheek of the young
person he was eulogizing.
" I thank you, sir," was the po-lite
reply, as Mr. lia Fronde ex-amined
the five cards just dealt
him by his spirited adversary, " I
appreciate the advantages of your
offer, but—I have the king," with
a bow to Mrs. Franklin, "but as
I have no desire to become a pu-pil
in the science of love, I am
compelled to decline it." Meet-ing
the bright eyes of his
partner at this moment, Mr.
La Fronde was struck by a
very peculiar expression in them,
and a disagreeable sensation shot
through his mind to the effect
that a deeper meaning was at-tached
to his careless Avords than
he had by any means intended.
He said nothing further, but
finished his game in which he was
winner, and then claimed a game
of chess from Miss Franklin.
—
28
412 Unwritten Music, [Sept.^
She laid aside her crotchet to en- Her parents looked on with de-gage
in her favorite amusement, lighted interest at the game,
which brought the clear astute- which was speedily ended by a
ness of her intellect into fu