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MONTHLY. BEADLE? DIME NUMBEAI 10.

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/Trditons and Romance of Border and Reo onary Time’...

EDWARD 8S. ELLIS, EDITOR.

 

MAGNANIMITY OF ROHN-YEN- NESS.
BATTLE OF BLOODY BROOK.
. WOMAN CAPTURING THE HESSIAN.
THE HEROIC DOG.

NEW TORE:
BEADLE AND COMPANY, 118 WILLIAM ST.

American News Company, 121 Nassau St.

ed

 

 

 
No. 11. Ready Friday, July 15th. No.11.

ome

BEADLE’S DIME

TALES, TRADITIONS ~ ROMANCE

OF

BORDER AND REVOLUTIONARY ‘TIMES.

> +
Number eleven of this fine and very desirable Household and Family series will com-
prise, among others, the following illustrated incidents of American History:

Sergeant Champe’s Recognition,
Colonel Crawford’s Fate Decided,
Owen Davis carving out Court Business,
Miss Moncrieff, the Female Spy.

The choicest stories of personal adventure and experience of Border and Revolutionary
Times are comprised in this beautiful Dime Series. The illustrated articles thus far are:

No. 1—-Simon Kenton’s Indian Torture-Ride. Mrs. Austin and the Bear, Brant the Chief”
and Young M’Kown, Murphy Saving the Fort.

No, 2--Johnson Boys Killing their Captors, The Maiden Warrior. Joe Logston’s Fight
with an Indian, General Morgan's Prayer,

No. 3—Sweatland’s Hunting Adventure. Horry of Marion’s Brigade, Elerson’s Twenty-five

Mile Race, Moll Pitcher at Monmouth.

No, 4—Tecumseh Saving the Prisoners. The Young Sentinel. Horsewhipping a Tyrant.
The Mother’s Trial.

No, 5—Captivity of Jonathan Alder, Moody the Refugee. Women Defending the Wagon.
Leap for Life.

No. 6—The Chieftain’s Appeal. The Implacable Governor, Mrs. Slocumb at Moore’s Creek
Brady's Leap.

No. 7—The Minnesota Massacre. Stephen Ball Hung by Tories, Mrs, Palmer and Putnam.
Kenton Saving the Life of Boone.

No. 8—Jacob Wetzel Saved by his Dog. Benedict Arnold Insulted. Mad Ann, the Huntress
Coacoochee’s Talk.

No. 9—Francisco, the Virginia Samson. Howard Saved by the Indian Girl. Hughes Killing
the Turkey. Hamilton Saving his Cloth.

No. 10—Magnanimity of Roh-yen-ness. Woman Capturing the Hessian, Battle of Bloody
Brook. Heroic Dog,

Each number is complete initself, It contains sixty-four crown octavo pages, and is very
beautifully illustrated with designs, by John R. Chapin. Six numbers constitute a volume,
having a general title page, index, etc. When bound, the Dime Tales forms one of the
cheapest and most attractive books yet placed within reach of all classes of readers.

Sold by all Newsdealers, or sent, post-paid, on receipt of price—ten cents per number,
Parties wishing complete sets, can always be supplied by mail, post-paid, at sixty cents
per volume of six numbers. No more desirable book can be given to young people. Address

BEADLE AND COMPANY, General Dime Book Publishers,
118 William Street, New ¥ ork

 

 

Entered according to act of Congress, in the year wr 1864,
by BEADLE AND ComMPANY, in the Clerk’s office of the District Court of the United
States, for the Southern District of New York.

 
 
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TRADITIONS AND ROMANGE

BORDER AND REVOLUTIONARY TIMES.

 

MAGNANIMITY OF ROHN- YEN-NESS.
WOMAN CAPTURING THE HESSIAN.
BATTLE OF BLOODY BROOK.

THE HEROIC DOG,

 

NEW YORE;

BEADLE AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS,
118 WILLIAM STREET.

 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the Year 184.
by BrapLE AND Company, in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court in the United
States for the Southern District of New York.

@

(T. 10.)

 
THE

MAGNANIMITY OF ROHN-YEN-NESS.

 

.

We can well imagine with what joy peace with the Indians
was welcomed by the inhabitants of those Western States,
which had, for years, been one vast battle-field, where the
white and red man hunted each other like wild beasts, and
carried on a war of extermination. The settler could now leave»
his home for the field without that awful dread of finding it
in ashes, and his family massacred, on his return. The mother
could hug her infant to her bosom without the fear that ere
another morn its little brains might be dashed out against the
door-posts. The confinement of “stations” and “forts” was,
exchanged for the freedom of the groves and fields, and all
nature seemed to wear a more cheering aspect to those who
had so long viewed her in connection with the idea of the
lurking Indian—the attack, the struggle, the slaughter, and -
bloodshed of savage war. Among all those who rejoiced at
the return of peace, none felt more hearty satisfaction that
the strife was ended than Adam Poe. He had, like his neigh
bors, been forced to take up the rifle and tomahawk in de-
fense of his home, and had taken an active part in the struggle
for supremacy ; but he welcomed, with a thankful heart, the
period when the Indian and the pale-face might take each
other by the hand and be friends. The Wyandots, however
could not forget the loss of their celebrated chiefs, “ Big
Foot” and his brother, and they had nourished their revenge
until it had become a matter of principle with them to send
the spirit of their slayer to accompany them to the “ happy
hunting-grounds ” of their tribe. They determined, therefore,
197

 
2”

6 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

upon the death of the white man, notwithstanding the pro-
clamation of peace, and Rohn-yen-ness—one of their chiefs—
was selected to carry the plan into execution. At this time,
Poe lived on the west side of the Ohio river, near the mouth
of Little Yellow creek. One evening, just as the family had
sat down to their evening meal, a tall, splendid-looking In-
dian was seen approaching the house. His appearance
awakened no other emotion than that of curiosity in the
breasts of those who, a short time previous, would have been
alarmed at the sight of a red warrior in such close proximity
to their dwelling. Perhaps the recollection of former injuries
arose in the mind of the white man, as his gaze rested upon
the noble form of the Indian; but, be that as it may, he wel-
comed him to his cabin, and, extending to him the hand of
friendship, invited him to partake of the humble supper spread
before them. Without any show of hesitation, Rohn-yen-ness
took his seat at the table, nor would the most careful ob-
server have gleaned any intimation from his conduct of the
deadly errand upon which he had come. He bore his rifle
and shot-pouch, and in his belt was the keen-edged tomahawk
and sealping-knife. But these were the implements of the
chase, as well as of war; and such was the faith of the whites
in regard to the integrity of the Indians in maintaining the
peace they had voluntarily sought, that not the slightest sus-
picion was entertained by Poe of the object of the visit. It
is not etiquette, according to the Indian’s code, to seek to
learn the objects of a warrior in visiting a friend, and Poe
was content, therefore, to wait until the other saw fit to ex-
plain them. The evening was passed in animated conversa-
tion between the host and his dusky guest, and when the hour
for retiring ‘came, a pallet was laid upon the floor for the
accommodation of the warrior. Poe and his wife then re-
tired to bed in the same room. Rohn-yen-ness threw himself
“upon the floor—but not to sleep. A violent struggle was
going on in his breast, which increased in intensity as the
moment approached and the opportunity was offered for the
commission of the deed for which he had been sent. Besides
198.

 
*

THE STILL, SMALL VOICE. 7

Poe and his wife, there were no other inmates of the cabin
but their children, and these slept apart from their parents.
Sleep soon wrapped the unsuspecting family in oblivion, and
nothing intervened to prevent the full accomplishment of the
Indian’s revenge, except that “still, small voice,” which,
emanating from an Omnipresent Deity, pervades equally the
mind of the white and the red man, and points him to his
duty. Rohn-yen-ness could not bring. himself to think of
murdering in cold blood the man who had shown himself so
kind to him, without a feeling of great inquietude. Instead
of distrust and suspicion, he had been received with the
warmest expressions of friendship and confidence. The best
the hunter’s cabin afforded had been laid before him for
use, and he had been treated with the kindliest reception of
the most favored guest, without the slightest exhibition of
distrust on the part of his host. .
The intellectual struggle. of the noble savage was powerful
in the extreme. Now thinking of the kind and brotherly
treatment of his host; now of the promise to his tribe that he
would avenge the sacrifice of their brother warriors. In this.
conflict of mind, the passions and traditions of his people con-
tended with the nobler and finer feelings of his nature, until
long after midnight, when, the fire burning low, he felt if the
deed was to be, done at all, it must be quickly done, or it
would be too late.. Nerving himself therefore to the effort,
as he thought of the derision of his tribe, and the unappeased
manes of his friends, he arose from his pallet and grasped the
instruments of death. With a catlike tread he approached
the couch on which Poe and his wife were sleeping, without
the slightest intimation of the danger which hung over them,
and prepared to do his bloody work. With his tomahawk in
one hand, and his long, keen, and glistening scalping-knife in
the other, he stood in the act of striking the fatal blows which —
would send two of the pale-faces into eternity, when his eye
rested upon the face of Poe, who was dreaming and smiling.
in his sleep, and his purpose changed in the twinkling of
an eye. The smile on the face of his host seemed to warn.
199

 
   

8 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

him of the meanness and treachery of the act he was about to
commit—and his arm fell powerless at his side. He felt how
unworthy the character of a warrior it was to murder a friend
while asleep; and he went back to his pallet, and throwing
himself down, slept till morning. "When Poe arose—entirely
unsuspicious of the narrow escape from death he had had
during the night—he loaded his guest with blessings, and
welcomed him to his table with a sincerity which could
not be assumed. He told him that once they were enemies,
and would have killed each other had they met; now there
was peace between them, and having buried the hatchet, he
hoped it might not again be dug up. Now they were broth-
ers, and he hoped they might always be such. After the
morning meal, Rohn-yen-ness, overwhelmed with a sense of the
generosity of his friend, left him to join his party, who were
ajvaiting in anxious expectation the result, of his expedition.
The more he reflected upon the course he had pursued the
more certain he felt that the Great Spirit was pleased with
him. An act of kindness had changed this once proud and

revengeful warrior into a child, and all the plans which he_

had formed had been frustrated by the events of an evening.
Rohn-yen-ness became one of the earliest converts to the
Christian faith among the Wyandots, under the missionary
efforts of the Methodist Episcopal church, and invariably
used his influence against the traders and their fire-water.
A still more striking instance of the generosity which some-
times shines out from the dark nature of the savage occurred
at the massacre of the River Raisin—a name suggestive of all
that is horrible in Indian warfare. At the mere mention of
it, our mothers still shudder, and over it our grandmothers
wept bitter tears for sons, the very flower of Kentucky, who
there fell a sacrifice to savage cruelty, and the perfidy of an
English General. It is well known that the first conflict at
Frenchtown resulted favorably to our army, and that when
the assailants renewed the attack, they for hours made good
their frail stockades against the whole force of British and
Indians combined. During the hottest part of this latter
200

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THE MASSACRE AT FRENCHTOWN. gy

*

fight, Mr, C——, then a mere boy, was struck down by a
bullet through the body, and carried to a log-hut in the rear,
used as a hospital for the wounded, with whom it was soon
crowded. After the surrender, which was not made until the
English commander pledged his honor for the safety of the
prisoners, a number of savages, drunk with rage and whisky,
rushed into the cabin and began to tomahawk and scalp the
helpless inmates. Young C , who happened to be lying
in such a position as to be partially hid, but yet able to see
all that was done, feigned death, hoping thereby to escape
the hatchet, though he well knew it would not save him from
the scalping-knife, for scalps then bore a good price at the
government offices in Canada. While trying to nerve him-
self to endure the horrible mutilation without flinching, he
noticed the entrance of an Indian who, instead of taking any
part in the barbarous employment of his fellows, appeared
to regard it with disapproval.- Grasping at the slighest hope
of escape, the youth determined to appeal to this: man for
protection. Springing suddenly to his feet, and eluding some
blows aimed at him, he rushed to his side, and earnestly
begged to be received as his prisoner. The noble savage for
a moment regarded his eager petitioner with a look of min-
gled doubt and pity, and then asked if he thought himself
able to endure a rapid march to Canada. Receiving an assur-
ance in the affirmative, he threw his blanket round the youth
and led him to his own camp, where he supplied him with
proper food, examined tenderly into the nature of his hurt,
and watched over his safety with the solicitude of a brother.
During the subsequent day, when so many of the prisoners
were murdered in cold blood by their guards, this Indian, by
assistance and encouragement, enabled his suffering protégé
to keep so well up with the party, in its hasty march, as not
to attract the attention of his less merciful companions, who
would have dispatched him if he had delayed their progress.
At night, when the poor boy’s wounds kept him awake and
tossing with pain, his red friend sat by him, trying to assuage
his agony, and when he at last discovered that this was best
201

 

 
10 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

accomplished by the patient lying across something, offered
his own person for that purpose, and bore, without moving,
the inconveniences of such a position during the remainder
of the night. The same conduct was continued until Mr.
C—— was delivered to the British authorities at Malden.
From that time he never saw or could hear of his noble bene-
factor; but he always cherished his memory with feelings
of the deepest gratitude. We think we may challenge any
historian of civilized warfare to point out a more striking in-
stance of generosity than this. Certainly a darker scene was
never relieved by a brighter gleam.

In return for this, we have a story of the magnanimity of
Harrod, one of the representative border men of Kentucky—
a leader in whom his companions had the fullest confidence,
and toward whom the settlers turned in cases of danger, as to
their ablest friend.

Being on one occasion hotly pressed a a panty. of Indians,
he plunged into the Miami, then in a flooded state, and hold-
ing his rifle above water with one hand, and swimming with
the other, sueceeded in reaching the other shore untouched
by the bullets which closely flew about his head. Two of
the savages, as bold as himself, followed, but the foremost,
when in mid-stream, received a shot and disappeared, with a
stifled yell, beneath the fushing waters, while the other,
warned by his comrade’s fate, turned back,.and the chase was
given up. An hour or two afterward, as Harrod approached
the river a few miles’ below the point where this encounter
had taken place, he saw something struggling in an eddy, and
was not a little astonished when he beheld a naked warrior
draw himself painfully upon a pile of driftwood, where, hav-
ing with difficulty fixed himself, he proceeded to apply a rude.
bandage to his shoulder, down which the blood was flowing
from a deep rifle-sshot wound. Rightly conjecturing this to
be the same Indian whom he had shot, who had contrived to
save himself by clinging to some piece of floating timber, and
moved by an impulse such as few white men of his time
would have understood, he resolved to lend what assistance

202

 
THE WOUNDED WARRIOR. 11

he could to his disabled adversary. But how to approach
him was the first difficulty ; for Harrod well knew that if he
should present himself in the guise of an enemy, the savage
would not hesitate to plunge again into the stream rather
than allow a foeman the honor of carrying away his scalp as
a trophy of victory. Stealing cautiously, therefore, to one
of the trees on the bank a few yards from where the uncon-
scious object of his kindness sat, he laid aside his gun, knife,
and hatchet, and then slipped suddenly into view with his
arms extended, in token of peace, and to show that he was
without any weapon. At the first.sight of him the savage
started in act to plunge into the stream, but a second glanee
assuring him that no immediate hostility was intended, he for-
bore his purpose, but remained watching with the jealous
gaze of a disabled wild beast the stranger’s approach, ready
at the first suspicious motion to seek death in the foaming.
river rather than await it at the hands of anenemy. At length
the encouraging gestures and open, kindly countenanee of the
other convinced him that nothing unfriendly was intended,
when he suffered himself to be approached. Harrod, finding
him almost fainting from cold and loss of blood, gently as-
sisted himsto the shore, where he dressed his hurt with a
portion of his own clothing, and then taking him on his back,
bore him several miles to a beautiful little cave, which he had
discovered years before, and used as a lodging in inclement
weather during his excursions into this region. Here he eon-
tinued to feed and nurse his late foeman as long as he required
such attentions, and finally dismissed him in safety to his
tribe.

Such was James Harrod to his friends ; and—a better test
of character—such was he to his enemies. -

It is said that neither Boone nor Harrod cherished that
vindictive hatred of the Indians which was felt by most of
the border men. They fought them when the welfare of the
community demanded it, but they were not, like Kenton and
others, Indian haters, who could not cross the path of a red-
skin without taking his life, if possible. Harrod, in particular,

208

 
12 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

was not surpassed in magnanimity by any hero of chiy-
alry. He was, in every essential, a knight “ without fear and
without reproach ;” and his life was a true*romance of the
forest. Born it is not certainly known where, ignorant of
letters but intelligent from observation, with a spirit as lofty
and as gentle as that of Sidney himself, he appeared among
the earliest settlers of the country—or rather preceded them,
for when Boone came first to Boonesborough, Harrod’s cabin
already marked the site of Harrodsburg—and, after spend-
ing his prime of manhood in protecting the lives and property
without deigning to grasp the immense fortune his own en-
‘terprise had placed within reach, at last, when all around him
was peace and prosperity, when an affectionate family made
his home pleasant, and age was beginning to silver his jetty
curls and steal the vigor from his stalwart tread—when it
was natural that he would settle quietly down, beloved by
neighbors to whom he had shown so much kindness, and hon-
ored by the commonwealth that he had helped to build up,
he suddenly plunged into the forest and disappeared as mys-
teriously as he had come. The beginning and end of his life
no man knows, nor can any one point out the spot where his
cradle stood or his bones repose. .

Mr. Jenkins, a resident of Wyoming, was taken prisoner
by the Indians in 1777. He was on a scouting party up the
river, nearly fifty miles; Mr. York, father of the Rey. Minor
York, was one of his companions; Lemuel Fish was another.
They were ambushed, not far from Wyalusing, by a party of
Indians, and taken to the British lines. An Indian chief of
some celebrity was prisoner to the Americans in Albany, and
Colonel John Butler sent Mr. Jenkins, under an escort of In-
dians, to be exchanged for the chief. On the way he suffered
exceedingly, and, had it not been that a young savage
had become warmly attached to him, Mr. Jenkins thought
that he should have been massacred, and was almost
sure he should have been starved. But the young Indian,
amidst rum and riot, for the captive’s sake kept himself sober
and calm, fed him, protected him. Arrived at Albany, the

204

 
INDIAN FIDELITY. 138

chief for whom he was to have been exchanged had just died
of small-pox. The Indians insisted upon taking Mr. Jenkins
back with them. Irom their character and conduct he felt
certain that they intended to take his life, in revenge for that
of their chief, the moment they were beyond the reach of
pursuit. But he was still protected by his savage friend,
and found his way back, eventually, to his friends. Mr. Jen-
kins was prompt at all times to do justice to his Indian
friends, though, from the cruelties practiced in that vicinity,
the savages were generally held in such detestation.

When General Scott arrived at the American encampment
in the Northwest, he found three Indian prisoners under a
charge of murdering the whites. The evidence was slight,
and an application had been sent on to Washington to obtain
their release. But the President had gone to the Hermitage,
and the Secretary of War to Detroit. No answer, of course,
was obtained. In the mean time, the cholera broke out E
among the American troops at Rock river; many bécame
victims ; one of the three Indians also took it and died.

The ee seeing the danger they were exposed to, de-
termined upon pina the two survivors out of confinement,
and told them if they would confine themselves to the island
in the river he would permit them to go there. Their word
being pledged, he directed them to go to the extreme part of
the island, where they might keep somewhat out of the way
of our troops.. They accordingly repaired to the quarter
designated, but they never once left the island, though they

might easily have effected their escape. Mi Santen the chol-
era spread and the danger thickened. The General then told
them that he would permit them to go to their tribe, upon
condition that they would return to camp so soon as he gave
them notice that the cholera had disappear ed. They assented
* to the terms and went home. aa ;
~. These men were under a charge of murder, and might have
lost their lives had they been put upon trial. But notwith-
standing this circumstance, the moment General Scott had
determined to hold his great conference with the Indians, he

205

 
14 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

informed the prisoners that they must come in, which order
they did not hesitate to obey. They repaired, among the
first of their brethren, to the American encampment.

The reader will like to bear that they were ultimately
acquitted, though one of them had to pledge himself to at-
tend as a witness against another Indian, who was charged
with murdering the whites. .This duty, too, he fulfilled,
though at much inconvenience to himself.

The story of the highly noble race of aborigines, the
Natchez, is so fall of a melancholy interest that its narration
always serves to enlist sympathy for the Indian race. The
Natchez, at the time of the French domination in Louisiana
territory—1688-1762—-were a powerful people, possessed of
many arts and customs which clearly demonstrated their close
alliance with those tribes of South America and Mexico whose
magnificence of barbaric civilization has astonished the world
and confounded all speculations in the history of the origin of
man. The French in Louisiana, like the Spaniards in Mexico
and Peru, found excuses to wage war upon the Natchez, and
carried on a war with the tribe until it actually was extermi-
nated. No people ever perished more suddenly and more ef:
fectually ; and now, all that we have of their history is the
record of their destruction, through which record we catch
glimpses of their native greatness and extraordinary deyelop-
nent in a barbaric civilization.

Bienville, the founder of the first French settlements in the
Louisiana territory, soon became acquainted with the Natchez,
and made it a study to retain their friendship. His successor,
Cadillac, a conceited scion of an old French family, disdained
all alliance with the Indians, and took early occasion to insult
the Natchez, who resented the act by a murder of French
emissaries in their midst. To punish the tribe for this act,
Cadillac dispatched Bienville with a small force up the river.
By stratagem he succeeded in obtaining possession of a nugn-
ber of their leading chiefs, whom he put to death as a recrim-
ination for the murder of the Frenchmen. One of the number
was called Chief of the Beard, from the fact of his having a

206

 
THE CHIEFS OF THE BEARD. 15

long beard—a remarkable circumstance among Indians, whose
faces are always beardless. This savage, when led out to be
shot, chanted a war-song which has been preserved by Ga-
yarre, in his “* History of Louisiana.” We quote from it, as
showing something of the intelligence and nobility of nature
which marked this great but now extinct race.

“Let there be joy in the hearts of the Natchez! for a wit-
ted chief, worthy of the race of their Suns, has been born to
them, in thee, my son; a noble chief, with beard on his chin!
Listen to the explanation of that prodigy. In days of old, a
Natchez maid, of the race of their Suns, was on a visit to the
Mobilians. There she soon loved the youthful chief of that
nation, and her wedding-day was nigh, when there came from
the big salt lake, south, a host of bearded men, who sacked
the town, slew the red chief with their thunder, and one of
these accursed evil spirits used violence to the maid, when
her lover’s corpse was hardly cold in death. She found, in
sorrow, her way back to the Natchez hills, where she became

a mother; and lo! the boy had beard on his chin! and when
he grew to understand his mother’s words, she whispered in
his ear:

**Son of the Chiefs of the Beard,
Born from a bloody day,
Bloody be thy hand, bloody be thy life,
Until thy black beard with blood becomes red.

“Let there be joy in the hearts of the Natchez! In my
first ancestor, a long line of the best hunters, of chiefs, and
of warriors, of the race of their Suns, had been born to them,
with beard on their chin! What chase was ever unsuccess-
ful, when over it they presided? When they spoke in the
council of the wise men of the nation, did it not always turn
out that their advice, whether adopted or rejected, was the
best in the end? In what battle were they ever defeated ?

“When were they known to be worn out with fatigue, hard-
ships, hunger or thirst, heat or cold, either on land or on
water? Who ever could stem, as they, the rushing current
of the father of rivers? Who can count the number of scalps
which they brought from distant expeditions? Their names

207

 
16 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

have always been famous in the wigwams of all the red na-
tions. They have struck terror into the boldest breasts of
the enemies of the Natchez; and mothers, when their sons
paint their bodies in the colors of war, say to them :

“Fight where and with whom you please, '
But beware, oh! beware of the Chiefs of the Beard!
Give way to them, as you would to death,
Or their black beards with your blood will be red!

“Let there be joy in the hearts of the Natchez! When the
first Chief of the Beard first trimmed the sacred fire in the
temple, a voice was heard, which said, ‘ As long as there lives
a chief, of the race of the Suns, with beard on his chin, no evil
can happen to the Natchez nation; but if the white race should
ever resume the blood which it gave, in a bloody day, woe,
three times woe to the Natchez! of them nothing will remain
but the shadow of a name!’ Thus spoke the invisible prophet.
Years rolled on, years thick on years, and none of the ac-
cursed white-faces were seen! But, they appeared at last,
wrapped up in their pale skins, like shrouds of the dead; and
the father of my father, whom tradition had taught to guard
against the predicted danger, slew two of the hated strangers;
and my father, in his turn, killed four!

“Praise be to the Chiefs of the Beard!
Who knew how to avenge their old ancestral injury !
When with the sweet blood of a white foe,
Their black beard they proudly painted red,”

There is something so proudly defiant, so inherently great,
in this savage chant, as the victim stood before his execu-
tioners, that it commands our admiration, and makes us re-
gret that so much nobility as the American savage has re-
peatedly betrayed, should have been permitted to waste itself
upon the battle-field and in the merciless war of extermina-
tion. Perhaps if we had been more humane in our civilization,
the savage of the wilderness would have been less of the tiger
in his ferocity.

 
 

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MR. LYBROOK’S CHILDREN.

¢

THE HEROIC DOG.

Catt it sagacity, instinct, or by whatéver name we please,
there is a faculty of the brain possessed by some orders of
the animal creation which is so near akin to reason that it
would argue the possession of a considerable amount of critical
acumen on the part of him who should attempt to say where
instinct ceases and reason begins. So many authentic in-
stances of canine intelligence are on record going to prove
that the dog, above all other animals, possesses the power of

intelligently associating cause ‘and effect, that it would be the

work of supererogation to advance an argument in favor of
his reasoning capacity. How far the possession of this power
is limited by the size of the brain of the individual, is a subject
for the metaphysicians ; it is enough for our present purpose,
that it is a generally conceded fact that the mastiff, of all the
canine species, is the most intelligent and judicious. The
Newfoundland dog, it is true, exhibits traits of character
and mind which have rendered him famous; but for true
intelligence and readiness in time of danger, the mastiff is
ever the most reliable.

The family of Mr. Lybrook, who settled on New river,
Giles county, Virginia, possessed a large and valuable dog
of the mastiff breed, which did good service on one oceasion
in saving the life of one of his children; and in doing so,
exhibited a degree of sagacity which would have been credit-
able to one of the genus homo. Mr. Lybrook’s children—John,
a boy of ten or twelve, a brother about six, and his sister, of
some thirteen years of age—were playing one morning in the
month of July, 1774, with other children on the banks of New
river, when they were surprised by a party of four Indians,
who succeeded in killing and scalping all but John and his
sister.

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20 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

On leaving the house, the children were accompanied by the
dog, who, feeling as desirous as they of a good play-spell, ran
bounding before them toward a sunny bank near the river,
which he knew to be their playground. They were at first
disposed to send him back; but finding their efforts to that
effect unavailing, they gave up the attempt, and very fortu-
nately, as it afterward proved.

When tired of play, the little ones had grouped themselves
on the bank, and while some were busy in building miniature
cabins under the roots of a pin-oak, others of the younger
ones were making sand-pies and mud-houses nearer the shore,
while the dog had strayed off, probably on the scent of some
small game. While thus situated, and little dreaming of
danger, they heard a crackling in the bushes, and looked up,
expecting to see their good-natured canine companion come
bounding through the underbrush—instead of which, they
were terrified at beholding the painted and otherwise hide-
ous face of an Indian peering at them over the top of a shrub-
oak which grew by the side of the path leading toward their
home. Their first impulse was to run toward a canoe which
lay on the edge of the stream, and in which they had amused
themselves during the afternoon, childlike, thinking this their
only ark of safety. John had presence of mind enough, how-
ever, to endeavor to reach home by running around another
way. This the Indian was not satisfied to let him do, and
took after him at the top of his speed. A short distance
would, of course, soon have ended the race, but fora deep and
wide gulley which lay across their path, and which, when
John came to it, he attempted to leap. It was twelve feet
wide where he made the attempt, and very deep. Any one
not flying for his life would have hesitated, ‘perhaps, before
essaying so great a feat; but John, collecting all his power
into one tremendous effort, cleared it at a bound, and the
Indian not being prepared to follow, he escaped. Meantime,
three other red-skins had followed the remaining children into
the canoe, where they were huddled together in an agony of
fear, and commenced to kill and scalp them. John’s sister,

212

 
THE DOG AND THE INDIAN. 21

in the confusion, slipped out of the canoe, and making good
use of her feet, fled down the path toward home. The
Indian who had pursued John, returning from his race at this
moment, discovered her ere she was out of sight, and started
in pursuit. Hearing his approaching footsteps, the poor girl
gave vent to her fears ina series of heartrending shrieks,
which rung through the forest, and had the effect to recall
the straying dog, who came bounding through the wood, and
threw himself between his young mistress and her pursuer.
The Indian, not liking his appearance, endeavored to avoid
him ; but, quick as the bolt from heaven, tlhe faithful animal
sprung at his throat, and, although the savage tried to ward
his grasp, such was the dog’s certainty of spring, that they
both went tothe ground together. ‘Then commenced a series
of struggles between the Indian and his canine antagonist—the
one pulling, tearing and jerking at his enemy’s throat, while’
the other endeavored in every way to loose his hold or to
stun him with his war-club. The dog had already received
one or two severe blows, when, apparently perceiving his dis-
advantage, he threw himself across the body of the Indian in
such a manner as to rest partly upon his right arm, and thus
avoid the blows. This was the result of reason. How else
could he so effectually shield himself, and still maintain his
ascendency, as by throwing his body directly under the arm
which was inflicting the blows, so that they must necessarily
pass over him? In this position he remained tugging at the
throat of his antagonist, until the other Indians, having finished
their bloody work, drove him off by a heavy blow on his head,
which nearly deprived him of life.

His young mistress had escaped, however, and the Indians
fearing pursuit, hastily gathered up their scalps, and taking
their wounded comrade upon their shoulders, decamped. The
dog, when he returned to consciousness, managed to crawl to
the canoe where lay the mutilated bodies of five of the
children, and laid himself down beside them, as though
determined to spend his little remaining strength in watching
over and shielding them from further injury.

213

 
22 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

When the parents, who had been alarmed by John and his
sister, came to the spot, they found him still at his post
endeavoring to recall to life the mangled bodies of his play-

mates by licking their gaping wounds, and exhibiting the
most affecting evidences of sorrow at his want of success.

Tenderly and sadly the lifeless remains of the nturdered
innocents were removed to the cabins of their respective
parents for burial, and then and there went up a wail of sorrow
from the hearts of their bereaved relatives, which might have
moved the pity of the most savage warrior to hear. One of
the little ones was yet unaccounted for—the youngest Ly-
brook. Search was immediately instituted to find his hiding
place. The dog, too, was missing. In the hurry and con-
fusion consequent upon the removal of the bodies, no note

_had been taken of his movements, and now he was nowhere
to be found. “When the party returned to the canoe, they
heard his pitiful howl in the adjacent woods, and upon going
to the spot, they found the still faithful animal by the side of
the dying boy, who had received a blow on his head which
fractured his skull,and was stripped of his scalp. Thus had
the noble mastiff remained true to the last.

A still more surprising instance of the sagacity of the canine
race, occurred just after the raising of the siege of Fort Stan-
wix, in the Mohawk valley. Captain Gregg and a corporal
were out shooting during the day, when, as evening drew
near, they prepared to return to the fort, parties of Indians
being known to still linger in the vicinity. Buta flock of
pigeons alighting near them, they were about to fire upon
them, when two shots were heard, and Gregg saw his com-
panion fall dead, while he felt a wound in his own side which
so weakened him that he speedily fell. Two Indians then
appeared from a thicket. Gregg at once saw that his only
hope was to feign death. One of the savages struck him in
the head with a hatchet, and then, with a knife, drew a circle
around his crown, and pulled off his scalp with his teeth. The
Indians then decamped; and soon as they were fairly gone,

Gregg, although suffering terribly from the wounds in his
214

 
CAPTAIN GREGG. 23

side and head, endeavored to reach his companion, from a
belief that could he place his head on the corporal’s body,
the anguish of the wound in his head would be alleviated.
Making an effort to rise, he no sooner attained his feet than
he sunk again; again he made the attempt; the third time
he so far succeeded as to stagger slowly to the spot where
his friend lay, whom he found lifeless and scalped. He placed
his head upon the bloody body, and, as he expected, this po-
sition afforded him some relief.

But his comfort was destroyed by the annoyance of a small
dog, which had accompanied him in his expedition, who now
came up to him in great distress, leaping, yelping, and whin-
ing about his master. Wearied by his efforts to force the
dog from him, he exclaimed, involuntarily :

“Tf you wish so much to help me, go and call some one to |
my relief.”

To his surprise, the dog immediately bounded off through’
the forest at his utmost speed.

The animal made his way to where three men were fishing,

about a mile from the scene of the tragedy, and as he came up
to them, began to cry and whine, and endeavored to attract
their attention by bounding off into the woods, returning, and
urging them to follow him. They procéeded some distance,

and finding nothing, while darkness was settling around,

aking the forest dangerous, they determined to return. But
no sooner did they attempt to retrace their steps, than the
animal began to ery out with almost human earnestness,
caught hold of their coats with his teeth, and endeavored to
force them to follow. As they continued to return his vio-
lence increased, until the men, astonished at his pertinacity,
concluded to go with him. Presently they came to where
Gregg was lying, whom they found still living. They buried
the corporal and carried the captain into the fort. Surprising
as it may seem, the wounds of Gregg healed up, and he
recovered his usual health.

It is not possible to read this extraordinary instance of

brute sagacity without feeling that nature has implanted in
215°

 
ya TALES AND TRADITIONS,

the animal mind something more than mere instinct. We
see displayed by this mastiff not only great courage, but a
persistence which seemed to indicate that the animal knew
how much was dependent upon his overcoming the savage.
Then the manner in which the dog conducted the struggle
so as to avoid the war-club, would demonstrate beyond a
doubt a canine reason scarcely to be identified with any mere
physical or mental instinct. The numerous instances of a
sagacious exhibition of powers of mind demanding reason
and combination for their explanation, gives philosophers
plentiful data to build up doubts of the old received opinion
that animals are mere brutes, devoid of all mental powers
save those of a purely animal nature. The bear, the fox,
the horse, the elephant, the beaver, the squirrel, the deer, the
rat, the cat—all have powers not reconcilable at all with ‘the
Jong-propounded opinion of their merely .brute, instinctive
action.

Of the dog and his powers of mind, Dr. Lazarus says:
The dog is, in every society founded like ours on individual
property, the vigilant guardian and heroic defender of what
is called public order and property. That citizen with hoarse
voice and tattered garments has a look rather suspicious for
property ; the dog stops him, rudely to ask his passport.
3ut as the majority has its principles, the minority also has
its own, and both have their dogs, whom they have taught
to venerate their institutions. The dog of the thief will
then profess, on matters of public order and commerce, prin™
ciples diametrically opposite to those of the magistrate’s dog.
The dog discusses no question of right—his duty is to obey
and keep quiet; he obeys without murmuring. The dog is
the finest conquest ever made by man. ‘He is the first element
of human progress. Without the dog, man would have been
compelled to vegetate eternally in the limbos of the savage
state. It is the dog that causes society to pass from the
savage to the patriarchal state, by giving him the herd;
without the herd, no assured subsistence, no leg of mutton

nor roast beef at will, no wool, no time to spare, no astro-
216

 
THE DOG AND THE ARAB CHIEF. 25

nomical observations, no science, no arts. It is the dog who
gives man these opportunities. The East is the cradle of
civilization, because the East is the country of the dog. Take
the dog from Asia, and Asia is no more than America; the
“Roman, the Greek, the Egyptian, the Chinese, then the tribes
of the Western continent. (Is not Peru a brilliant exception ?)
To what, indeed, are limited all the efforts of intelligence,
all the labors of the Mohican, who can live only by the chase ?
To study the great art of tracking out and of following by
the scent the game or the enemy. Now, a young hound
knows more of this difficult science after six months’ studies,
than the most skillful savage in forty years of practice. The
indigenous races of the East who had the dog, have then been
dispensed with giving themselves up to the painful labors
which absorbed all the time and all the faculties of the red-
skins. They have had time to spare, and they could employ
it in creating industry. Here is the origin of arts and trades,
the difference between the old and new continents. Histori-
ans have written thousands of volumes upon this grave ques-
tion without having discovered this very simple truth, and
brave anatomists continue to dissect American skulls, to seek
in them the cause of the inferiority of this race, without sus-
pecting that they are a hundred leagues from the solution of
the problem. '

The novel work of Mr. Toussenel gives us many anecdotes
of the dog not recorded by the naturalists. This author re-
gards the dog as a sentient being, and discourses accordingly.
We may repeat some of his anecdotes, even though we may
reject his purely speculative hypotheses regarding the dog’s

> mental mayifestations. The author writes:

The hunting dog is often seen running before the soldiers,
in company of the little boys, at the entrance of a regiment
into the city. It is because the regiment is the hearth of
friendship and of devotion—the two sentiments that vibrate
most strongly in the heart of the dog: similis simili gaudet.
The same reason explains the affection of the dog for infancy,

the age of equality, of friendship, of candor. The spaniel
, 217

 
26 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

has many troubles with the child on account of its long, lus-
trous, and silken ears, which the latter loves to pull; but he
has also many delights in regard to slices of bread and but-
ter, and conformity of tastes. I should not be far from be-
lieving that there was much to be done for the colonization
of Algiers by the organization of the dog, and especially by
that of the township or commune.

The dog aspires to battles like the horse ; he is intoxicated
with the smell of powder, and goes into ecstasies of gayety
at the sight of a gun. I had one in Africa who as willingly
attacked the Arab as the hare, and who perished as a victim
of his passion for war. He was a charming animal—an ad-
mirable mixture of the brack and bull-dog ; his ears had been
cut, but in compensation he had a superb ‘ail that curled like
a hunting bugle. One day, when a large party of Hadjouts
had surprised us poaching toward the fragrant border of the
dark orange-masses of Allouya, just at the foot of the Atlas,
and when the conversation in saltpeter grew warm, Bichebou
—it was the name of my companion in arms—amused himself
in playing the shuttlecock between us and the Teas running
at each shot to see what we had killed.

To this excusable vice of curiosity the animal united, alas,
that of holding too fast to his master’s. game, and of having
a hard tooth’ It happened then that an Arab chief superbly
mounted, fell in the direction of my piece ; theintrepid Biche-
bou thought his honor at stake in fetching him to me. Per-
haps success might have crowned the attempt with a dead
enemy, but this one was not so; he was only winged in his
right arm, and seizing in his left his terrible yataghan, he

dealt his aggressor a huge wound in the side. Poor Biche- age

bou! I think I still see you stretched upon the red arena, ex-
tending to me, in sign of last adieu, and without moving your
head, your bloody paw, and with look and tail saluting me
with a last caress; then trying to rise once more at the well-
known sound of my piece, and falling back exhausted with
the effort. They say over there that I have avenged his
death ; it is not impossible—I have looked to that
218

 
HUNTING DOGS. 27

The chase with running dogs began one day when man
was very much at a loss what to do with himself. It is a
long time ago. It was some ages after the Edenic period, on
the banks of the Indus or Ganges, the Tigris or the Euphra-
tes, in full patriarchal. Man had gathered in his harvests;
he was no longer in love, and knew not what to turn his
hand to. Then he took his dog aside—his dog of the herd—
and said to him: It seems to me that we have been very
good hitherto to suffer the hyenas, the wolves and the jack-
als to come to carry off our sheep and our fowls from amid
our dwellings. Might we not in turn push a little reconnois-
sance among these incorrigible enemies, and retaliate on them?
The dog, who had laid his head on his master’s knees, to read
in his eyes and feel his words, made one bound frum his place
to the door of the tent—an eloquent manner of answering
that this warlike proposition fulfilled his dearest wishes.
And then he confided to his master, that hardly a day passed,
but in conducting his sheep to pasture, or in reconnoitering
near them, he meets some defenseless leveret, some timid pig,
some innocent game or other, which he amused himself in
hunting for diversion, and also to vary his nourishment a
little.

Up to that time he had said nothing to his master, but he
did not less ardently sigh for the hour when it should be per-
mitted him to lay aside his pastoral functions to give himself
up to the full spring of his dominant passion. A treaty was
immediately concluded between the man and the beast, whose
conditions were that the dog should undertake the hardest
and thorniest part of the task, on account of which should
be conceded to him,.as the price of his assistance, the entrails
of the victims. Dating from this day, a great number of
dogs, and these the most honorable, have refused any other
employment than that of the chase.

Of his own dog, Castagno, this piquant Frenchman tells
several anecdotes, which, if tue, certainly give us reason to
doubt all of our hitherto received explanations of canine na-
ture and mentality. M.'Toussenel relates :

219

 
28 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

The setter has far too much intelligence. I know some
that_ abuse it odiously to exploit the credulity of their mas-
ters: My rogue Castagno is of this number. I desire that
these lines may not come to his hearing. Once, when I had
winged a water-hen that swam to an islet covered with reeds
in the midst of the Seine, I requested Monsieur Castagno, by
voice and gesture, to make perquisition in the said place.
The water was cold, the stream was rough with floating ice.
The winter bath did not appear, this day, to be to the taste
of the cunning beast. He, however, pretended to obey me,
and directs his steps in a small trot toward the bank; but
doubtless he met in his course a piece of glass bottle or a
sharp stone, for he suddenly utters a plaintive whine, and
limps back to me, raising his right foot.

I have a master; it is to make use of him. Castagno is
in the habit of recurring to my assistance for this sort of ac-
cidents. I then examine and feel the painful limb in every
point; impossible to find the slightest scratch. The animal
has lied. To the water, do you see, and quick; and pretend-
ing a serious indignation, and taking out my whip, I strike
the air with energy. The liar runs off on all his legs, com-
plaining bitterly of the whipping I have not given him, hay-
ing taken great care, as I always do, to strike aside.

Having come to the edge of the water, he wets his foot
there and trembles through his whole body, and turns toward
me, imploringly, a last look.

Have I softened? It is possible, for here he comes creep-
ing up to me, to finish my defeat ; but, unfortunately for him,
the wretch could not tell a straight lieto the end. Just now,

you recollect, it was the right foot that limped—now it is the tes

left; the fear of the lashi has taken away his memory, The cheat
was too visible, and I got angry in earnest at this last piece of
impudence ; but the traitor perceived his own awkwardness
first, and finding his trick discovered, he takes his part brave-
ly, leaps into the freezing waves, looks out the game, brings
it and lays it at my feet with an air of vexation, seeming to
say: My master, I thought you less of a rake than that.
220

 
THE SETTER, CASTAGNO. « 29

Then, without losing time, he sets off in full gallop, on his
four feet, for a field where he has seen some stacks of grain—
straw towels, whose use he knows perfectly well, and feturns
to me in a few minutes with his skin dry and shining. ©

It is a certain way of considerably humbling Castagno to
remind him of this event, though he persists in pretending
that any one else than his master would have been taken in
the snare. The same fellow, since he has remarked that I
sometimes use the leaves of the “Spirit of the Times” to
wad my gun, never enters a house in the village without lay-
ing his grip on all the almanacs. He is a well-trained setter,
that never flushes in the fields—was raised in Vendee, where
the pheasant is unknown. I ask myself; then, where he has
learned that two or three light barks are sufficient to make a
pheasant fly up from the ground on a tree; for after hunting
two months in a forest where pheasants abound, Castagno
was not ashamed to use this method of the basset any more
than to steal partridges out of the game-bags of my com-
panions and bring them to me. One of my friends, who
knew the rogue thoroughly, and had more than once been a
victim of his tricks, has surnamed him Rodin. One of Cas-
tagno’s favorite sports is to hide the hunting-whips, istru-
ments of which he has had cause to complain, it would seem,
in his youth. When the scamp is too far before me in the
woods or field, and I permit myself to recall him, his first
impulse, the best, is to obey me; but doubtless he reflects
afterward that it may be dangerous to allow a master to ac-
quire a bad habit, for he suddenly pretends to have got a
scent of game, and stops motionless in a posture of interro-
gation and in a half set. It is a mode of proceeding that
means to say: My master, you see that I am fastened here
’ by my countersign, and that it is impossible for me to obey
your orders; could you not give yourself the trouble to come
tome? Now I have hardly caught up with him, when he
breaks his set, and observes to me, with an air of perfect
frankness, that it was only an old scent, and that he is very
sorry to have called me for so small an affair! But, I have

221

 
30 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

come three-quarters of the way, and the idle fellow has spared
his trouble. He asked no more.

I have often invited Castagno to vary this mystification,
which he abuses; he unfortunately sticks to it, and finds it
always excellent. Charming gossip he is besides, powerfully
titled in cabalism, and pushing the corporate spirit even to
fanaticism.

Onee, when Charles Dain, the brilliant orator, the eloquent
and impassioned painter of tropical nature, was relating to
us a dramatic episode of the Antilles—the history of a hunter
of Martinique, saved from the bite of a trigonocephalus by
the devotion of his dog—Castagno, who had seemed to take
an immense interest: in the relation, did not await the end of
it, to offer to the narrator the energetic expression of his per-
sonal satisfaction. And since that day he never meets the
orator without renewing the assurance of his sympathies and
gratitude. At every meeting it is a siege of caresses, and
all sorts of affectionate demonstrations; that seem to say:
Ah, when will you tell us another of those beautiful hunting
stories that you tell so delightfully ?

This will do for dog stories. If this article induces the
reader to regard the dog more kindly, it is well to add that
there should be discrimination even in love of the dogs. So
many of the race are such unmitigated nuisances, such public
pests, that we have often urged a general slaughter of the
entire canine population of the States, rather than endure
their disgusting habits and vicious propensities. It is only
the oceasional appearance of a truly noble and. highly intelli-
gent dog that saves the race from malediction. If, therefore,
the reader will own dogs, let him be sure to choose one wor-
thy of his place as a household pet and companion.

 
THE BRITISH AT PERTH AMBOY

THE WOMAN CAPTURING THE HESSIAN,

Ware the British were in possession of the city of New
York, large bodies of troops were stationed upon Staten Isl-
and, and in the vicinity thereof, and that part of the State of
New Jersey embraced within a circle of ten or twelve miles
from Perth Amboy, was the favorite foraging-ground of the
royal troops: Numerous are the traditions preserved among
the families and descendants of the sufferers from their ray-
ages—of the midnight excursion, the bloody skirmish, the
hasty retreat, or the rapid pursuit, as the various patrolling
parties of British soldiers, Hessian hirelings, and American
militia met on this, the bloody neutral ground of New Jersey.

Dunlap, in his “ History of the Arts of Design,” describes
some of the scenes to which he was an eye-witness while a
boy, at Perth Amboy, in the following language: ‘“ Here was
to be seen a- party of Forty-second Highlanders in national
costume, and there a regiment of Hessians, their arms and
dress a perfect contrast to the first. The slaves of Auspach
and Waldech were there—the first somber as night, the sec-
ond gaudy as noon. Here dashed by a party of the ~Seven-
teenth dragoons, and there scampered a party of Yagers.
The trim, neat, and graceful English grenadier; the careless
and half-savage Highlander, with his flowing robes and naked
knees, and the immovably stiff German, could hardly be
taken for parts of one army. Here might be seen soldiers
driving in cattle, and others guarding wagons loaded with
household furniture, instead of the hay and oats they had
been sent for.

The landing of the grenadiers and light infantry from the
ships which transplanted the troops from Rhode Island; their
proud march into the hostile neighborhood, to gather the
produce of the farmer for the garrison: the sound of the

223

 
82 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

musketry, which soon rolled back upon us; the return of the
disabled veterans who could retrace their steps; and the
heavy march of the discomfited troops, with their wagons of
groaning wounded, in the evening, are all impressed upon
my mind, as pictures of the evils and soul-stirring scenes of
war.”

So frequent were these incursions, so dangerous was this
proximity to the enemy’s stronghold, that frequently whole
neighborhoods were left without the protection of a solitary
able-bodied man, All who were capable of shouldering a
musket either were enrolled in the ranks of the army, or
banded together in small companies of independent militia,
which were constantly patrolling the country in the hope of
cutting off the foraging parties of the British. The women
who were left at home, in constant fear of attack, and never
knowing when the brutal soldiery might make their appear-
ance, sonstantly kept a horse in harness, ready at a moment’s
warning to hitch up to the wagon, into which they would
throw such valuables as the exigency of the case would al-
low them to seize, and start for the mountains, some miles
distant, where they would remain until the threatened danger
was averted, or the troops had departed. They, however,
sometimes exhibited a spirit worthy of the wives and daugh-
ters of revolutionary sires and husbands, and many incidents
are related of their daring and courage.

On one occasion a young woman, whom I shall call Nancy
Field, was going trom her own home in Woodbridge to the
house of a friend at the other end of the village. She had
been urged by her mother not to trust herself out of doors,
as a party of soldiers had but just passed through the place,
and there was great danger that some straggler might still
be lurking in the rear, whose respect for persons might not
be so great as to prevent him from abusing the fair Nancy,
should she fall into his hands. But she, being of a bold and
daring disposition, and fearing no danger, determined to go
upon her errand. She did so; and, as she was passing a de-

serted house, she observed some one moving about in one of
224

 
 

 

 

The Woman Capturing the Hessian.

*

 
 
NANCY FIELD’S PRISONER. 85

the lower rooms. Being attracted by curiosity to know who
could be an inmate of the empty dwelling, she approached
the window and looked in. Her gaze rested upon the figure
of a half-drunken Hessian soldier, who had straggled from
his company, and was engaged in rummaging among the odds
and ends which lay scattered about on the floors and in the
cupboards of the deserted mansion. For a moment, Nancy
was disposed to run; but, reflecting that in his halfmaudlin
state the soldier was not so very dangerous, and thinking that
now was presented an opportunity of exhibiting her courage,
she turned her steps homeward. ‘There, investing herself in
a suit of her brother’s clothes, and shouldering an old rusty
firelock which had been cast aside as useless, she returned to
where she had left the Hessian. Carefully reconnoitering the
premises, she discovered that he had lit his pipe, and was
having a quiet smoke in the chimney corner, sitting on a bun-
dle which he had made up. Entering the house, she made
boldly at him, and, presenting her firelock, demanded his im-
mediate surrender. The first impulse of the drunken German
was to seize his musket, which lay upon the floor before him;
but, in his endeavor to reach it, he tumbled over upon all
fours, and having still sense enough left to see his apparent
danger, he exclaimed, in pitiful tones: “TI gifs up; mein Got!
don’t shoot, I gifs up.” Whereupon Nancy took possession
of his musket, and ordered him to get up and march. Stag-
gering to his feet, the captive, in the humblest manner, be-
sought his captor not to kill him. Nancy, in imperative
tones, ordered him to move on, which the poor fellow was
perfectly willing to do, provided he knew whither his captor
would lead him. This was a stickler, for now that Nancy
had secured her prisoner, she did not know what to do with
him. Luckily she bethought herself of a picket of Ameri-
cans, which she had heard was stationed two or three miles
from the village, to whom she determined to deliver her charge,
and ordered him to move in that direction. Fortunately, be-
fore she had proceeded far on the way, she met a patrol, to

whom she delivered him up, glad to be rid of her charge.
224

 
36 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

Anxious to verify this incident, I paid a visit, recently, to
the venerable Mr. Kinsey, of Woodbridge, who is now in his
eighty-sixth year, and who, notwithstanding his advanced
age, remembers distinctly_scenes which occurred when he
was aboy. He informed me that he did not recollect the in-
cident above related, but that an aunt of his, named Grace
Kinsey, performed a somewhat similar feat. A Hessian sol-
dier left the ranks of his company, entered her house, and
commenced to break open her chest of drawers or bureau.
Observing: that his musket was carelessly deposited out of
his reach, she seized it, and, charging upon him, threatened
to blow him through unless he surrendered, which he imme-
diately did. This I should have supposed to have been the
original of Nancy’s exploit, were it not that the main facts
of that story were taken from a paper published in that vi-
cinity at the time it occurred.

We have preserved among our own family records several
instances illustrative of the nerve of these women of ’76.
The family of General Thomas Nash resided at White Plains
during the time referred to above, when the British occupied
New York city. The proximity of White Plains to the
“neutral ground” between the American lines above Yonkers
and Kingsbridge, on the Harlem river, rendered it a position
of extreme peril, for the British made frequent visits to that
locality, in their foraging and marauding expeditions, while
the “ Cowboys” were sure to extend their marauds to that
section upon every practicable occasion. In consequence, the
family of so noted a patriot as General Nash suffered much,
and the wife found herself, ere long, stripped. of every thing
like barn stock except a few chickens and a single cow, which
the resolute woman preserved in the cellar of the house. On
one occasion this cow was seized and taken to the camp of
the enemy, near at hand, for slaughter. Mrs. Nash followed
the soldiers, seized the cow by the horns, and led it away—

_the British commander admiring her pluck so much as to for-
bid the men to molest her. At another time she was visited
at night by a company of Cowboys, who, discovering the

228

 
MRS. NASH AND THE TROOPERS. oF

chickens at roost up in a tree near the house, sent one of their
number up to seize them. Mrs. Nash was on the alert, and,
bringing her ever-ready musket to bear, shot into the tree.
Her aim had been good, for the Cowboy tumbled to the
ground, and his comrades, seizing his body, scampered away
as fast as possible, doubtless supposmg that other muskets
were ready for them. General Nash used frequently to visit
his home. On one occasion he was pursued by a body of
cavalry. His wife, discovering their approach, gave the
alarm, and the General passed out of a rear door as the horse-
men rode up the lane to surround the house. The troapers
entered and ransacked the building from top to bottom, dis-
covering the cow in the cellar, but no “ rebel” officer. Mor-
tified and angered at the escape of their prey, the English
visited their indignation upon the patriot’s wife, by cursing
her husband and his cause. This stirred the hot blood in her
veins.

“ Cowards,” she exclaimed, “ always take advantage of a
brave man’s absence to insult his wife. Your king does well
to employ such creatures as you, for honorable men would
abandon a cause which requires Hessian mercenaries and jail-
birds to fill its ranks. Begone, or I will surely scald you.”

Seizing a kettle from the fire, which had been placed there
to prepare her husband’s tea, she actually drove the troopers
from the room and closed the door in their faces. The men
swore, and threatened to fire the premises, but the officers in
charge acknowledged the justness of the brave woman’s re-
proof by ordering the troop to mount and away.

Numerous instances similar to the above are preserved in
the family, of Mrs. Nash’s courage, and resolute manner of
overcoming adverse circumstances. She preserved her cow
through the entire period of the war, and lived for many.
years to enjoy the fruits of her sacrifices for her country’s
sake.

The wife of Governor Griswold, of Connecticut, was a
woman of nerve and presence of mind. On more than one

occasion she was called upon to exercise both. The Governor,
229

 
38 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

being an uncompromising “rebel,” of course was very ob-
noxious to the British. Several attempts were made for
his capture. At one time it was proposed to seize him a day
or two before he should depart for Hartford, where the Le-
gislature was in session. ‘The Griswold residence was at
Blackhill, opposite Saybrook Point, and situated on the point
of land formed by Connecticut river on the east, and Long
Island sound on the south. British ships were lying in the
sound; and as the Governor was known to be at this time in
his own mansion, a boat was secretly sent ashore for the pur-
pose of securing his person. Without previous warning, the
family were alarmed by seeing a file of marines coming up
from the beach to the house. There was no time for flight.
Mrs. Griswold bethought herself of a large meat-barrel, or
tierce, which had been brought in a day or two before, and
was not yet filled. Quick as thought, she decided that the
Governor’s proportions-—which were by no means slight—
must be compressed into this, the only available hiding-place,
He was obliged to submit to be stowed in the cask and cov-
ered. The process occupied but a few moments, and the
soldiers presently entered. Mrs. Griswold was of course in-
nocent of all knowledge of her husband’s whereabouts,
though she told them she well knew the Legislature was in
session, and that business required his. presence at the capital.
The house and cellar having been searched without success,
the soldiers departed. By the time their boat reached the
ship, the Governor was galloping up the road on his way to
Hartford. *

The opening of the Revolution found in London Mrs. Wright,
a Pennsylvania woman, of considerable talent as a modeler of
likenesses and figures in wax, who had gone to the British
capital in furtherance of her fortunes. She was well received,
and soon obtained a good position in society. King George
III, pleased with her talents, gave her liberal encouragement,
and, finding her a great politician, and an enthusiastic repub-
lican, would often enter into discussion relative to passing
occurrences, and endeavored to refute her opinion with regard

230

 
MRS. WRIGHT AND GEORGE THE THIRD. 39

to the probable issue of the war. The frankness with which
she delivered her sentiments seemed rather to please than to
offend him; which was a fortunate circumstance, for, when
he asked an opinion, she gave it without constraint, or the
least regard to consequences. I remember to have heard her
say, that on one occasion, the monarch, irritated by some dis-
aster to his troops, where he had prognosticated a triumph,
exclaimed, with warmth: “I wish; Mrs. Wright, you would
tell me how it will be possible to check the silly infatuation
of your countrymen, restore them to reason, and render them
good and obedient subjects.”

‘I consider their submission to your majesty’s government
is now altogether out of the question,” replied Mrs. Wright ;
“ friends you may make them, but never subjects ; for Amer-
ica, before a king can reign there, must become a wilderness,
without any other inhabitants than the beasts of the forest.
The opponents of the decrees of your parliament, rather than*
submit, would perish to a man; but if the restoration of
peace be seriously the object of your wishes, 1 am confident
that it needs but the striking off of three heads to produce it.”

“Oh, Lord North’s and Lord George Germain’s, beyond
all question; and where is the third head ?”

* Oh, sir, politeness forbids me to name Aim. Your ma-
jesty could never wish me to forget myself, and be guilty of
an incivility.”

In her exhibition room, one group of figures particularly
attracted attention; and by all who knew her sentiments,
was believed to be a pointed hint at the results which might
follow the wild ambition of the monarch. The busts of the
king and queen of Great Britain were placed on a table, ap-
parently intently gazing on a head, which a figure, an excel-
lent representation of herself, was modeling in its lap. It
was the head of the unfortunate Charles the First, who had
perished on the scaffold! What a lesson the artist taught
in that little tableau!

At the darkest period of the war for independence, New

Jersey was full of British soldiers, and Lord Cornwallis was
231

 
40 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

stationed at Bordentown. He visited Mrs. Borden one day,
at her elegant mansion, and made an effort to intimidate her.
He told her that if she would persuade her husband and son,
who were then in the American army, to join his forces, none
of her property should be destroyed; but if she refused to
make such exertions, he would burn her house and lay waste
her whole estate. Unintimidated and patriotic, she made
the following bold reply, which caused the execution of the
threat: “The sight of my house in flames would be a treat
to me, for I have seen enough to know that you never injure
what you have power to keep and enjoy. The application of
a torch to my dwelling I should regard as the signal for your
departure.” And such it was.

We have before us a private journal kept by the wife of
an officer in the continental army during his absence. The
lady lived on Long Island, on a farm lying back from Astoria,
‘on the East river ; and as, after Washington’s defeat on Long
Island, August 29th, 1776, the country round about Brooklyn
was given up to British occupation, the lady witnessed many
things worthy of record. Her journal has been published,
and, as it presents a true picture of the times, we make a few
extracts for our readers’ profit : ;

1776. Dec. 30th. The year has closed disastrous, gloomy ;
panic and despair reign in many a breast. All the future is
uncertain; none can foretell what another year may bring
forth. Our great commander is still hopeful; although he
prays Congress for more effort and assistance, he never speaks
a discouraging word as to the result of the struggle. If
Congress would appropriate more money, and men could be
enlisted on longer terms, say during the war, and properly
equipped, greater things could be done. Now, no sooner are
they organized, and become a little drilled, than the term of
enlistment expires, and raw recruits take their place.

1777. Monday. Our trials in this quarter, I have no doubt,
appear to you trifling and insignificant. In comparison with
the great sacrifices and noble deeds now enacting on a broader
field, they are so. Nevertheless, they are irritating and

232

 
BANDITS OF THE REVOLUTION. 41

exasperating in the extreme, and hard to be borne. Were I to
undertake to relate the injuries, insults, horrors, and suffer-
ings our poor farmers are subject to, I should never finish
the story. They take the fence rails to burn, so that the
fields are all left open, and the cattle stray away and are often
lost; burn fires all night-on the ground, and to replenish
them go into the woods and cut down all the young saplings,
thereby destroying the growth of ages. But worse than all,
robbers come over from the main shore in boats, and keep us
in constant alarm. They belong to no party, and spare none; .
freebooters, cowardly midnight assassins, incendiaries, indis-
criminate, bold and daring. “Their hand is against every
man, and every man’s hand is against them.”

We have been spared, as yet, on account of the Hessians
and officer which are quartered here, whom they fear. Thus,
“some strange comfort every state attends.”

James Parker, a farmer near by, was driving home late
last evening, from the town; the night was uncommonly dark.
He passed a large tree; behind it stood a’man with a loaded
gun. A voice ordered the traveler to stop; it was unheeded.
The robber fired and hit him; he fell off his seat and expired.

The horses took fright, and running three miles, came to a
noted tavern kept by Increase Carpenter, where they stopped
under a shed, and stood still until morning, when they were
discovered with their sad burden, the dead man. The goods
in the wagon were of course untouched, owing to the horses
running away. ‘The indignation of the people is ‘without
bounds, and very active measures of defense are talked of.

Friday. The farmers have devised a scheme to make known
through the neighborhood the presence of the “ Runners.”

They are generally seen lurking ‘about at twilight, spying the
points most favorable for attack; if observed, they walk on
in an unconcerned manner, whistling or singing. Sometimes
they will stop, and inquire the way to some place; suddenly
disappearing, they are unexpectedly seen again in the edge
of the wood, or from behind a haystack in the field, peering
about, terrifying everybody, above all, women and children.

233

 
42 TALES AND TRADITIONS,

These signs are not to be mistaken. We are on our guard ;
the “great gun” with which all are provided is loaded and
fired off. Pop! pop! go the answering guns for five miles
round; each house takes up the alarming tale, and thus it
“spreads, warning of impending danger, and frightens away
the enemy, for that time at any rate.

Aug. 14th. Neighbor Pattison, of his peace-loving spirit,
and horror of the “‘ murderous weapon,” hath made a large
conch-shell do the office of a gun; it makes a noble sound,
and being close in our vicinity, is a well-known signal.
Charles no sooner hears it than he is on the alert ; out comes
papa’s rusty great gun, whose loud report is soon responded
to by the whole neighborhood.

Monday. On every Monday, exercising is practiced oppo-
site our house. To-day, when the maneuvering was over, a
man who had beem found intoxicated the night before was
stripped and whipped severely, with a ratan, till the blood
streamed down his back. Oh, it is dreadful to witness such
horrors! I fled from the sight, but the heart-piercing cries
of the poor creature followed me. I could no longer refrain
from running out of the house, and begging them to desist.
They paid no attention, and closed the gate upon me. The
ratan struck his cheek, perhaps by accident, cut it open, and
it bled terribly. I screamed out “auRDER!” They were star-
tled, and stopped. The appealing look of gratitude I received
from the poor maimed soldier was sweet reward. Mary
Pattison, whose sympathy for the suffering never failed, took
the poor creature in; commiserating his pitiful condition, she
dressed his wounds, which were frightfully deep, and, like
the good Samaritan, poured in the oil of consolation.

1778. Monday. There is an old proverb which saith, “ It
is an ill wind which blows nobody good.” The Hessians and
soldiers billeted about here for six months past left to-day for
the mainland campaign, and the robbery, from which we have
for some time been exempt, will now go on again. The vil-
lains feared the soldiery ; dreadful tax as it is to keep them,
it is ons in comparison to the other evil.

28

 
WASHINGTON AND THE QUAKERS. 43

1780. Monday. This neighborhood is still infested with
the odious Hessians. They are so filthy.and lazy, lounging
* about all day long, smoking and sleeping. The patience of
the good Friends is inexhaustible. After filling up their par-
lors, kitchens, and bedrooms, the whole winter, with chests,
liquor-casks, hammocks, bird-cages, guns, boots, and powder-
flasks, they were last week ordered to Jamaica. Oh, the re-
joicing! It would flash out of the eye, though their discreet
tongues spake it not.

The moment the Hessians took their leave, Friend Pattison
caused the broken places in the wall to be repaired, for the
Colonel’s lidy had the room ornamented all around with
stuffed parrots, perched on sticks driven in the wall. The
quarterly meting of the Society is near at hand. They ex-
pect friends ai.d relations to stop with them, and make pre-
parations for tl eir reception.

Well, all were putting their houses in order, when the ap-
palling news spread like wildfire, ‘* The Hessians are coming
back [”

Running to the window, I descried them in the dis-
tance like a cloud of locusts, dusty and dim; but the fife and
drum, assailing our ears, if we needed additional evidence,
convinced us that it was too true. ‘They had indeed been or-
dered back. How many tears of vexation I shed!

Thursday. No news of importance. A deputation of
Friends was sent last montl: to a placé @illed Nine Partners,
about twenty miles east of the Hudson river. Henry Patti-
son was one of the number; ha gives a very interesting ac-
count of their progress. They crossed the water to Mama-
roneck, and proceeded to White Plains. They had some
questioning to undergo from the enemy, as they were obliged
to pass the Continental lines ; and coming from Long Island,
where the British power is supreme, they had fears of being
stopped ; still, believing themselves to be in the way of their
religious duty, they persevered. They passed near General
Washington’s head-quarters. On approaching, they were
stopped, examined severely, and handed over to the Committee

235

 
44 TALES AND TRADITIONS

of Safety, which declared they could not allow them to pro-
ceed consistently with the orders they had received:

They then desired that General Washington might be in-
formed of their detention, and requested that he would give
them an interview. It was granted; they were received’
with marked deference and respect. It is the custom of this
peculiar sect to speak with moderation, never in strong terms,
either in condemnation or praise, complimentary language be-
ing specially disapproved of. But I can gather from their
‘quaint though guarded phrase, that they were much struck
with the clegance and dignity of General Washington’s per-
son and address.

Friend Pattison admitted that he was a likely man, and
conducted with great propriety—as much praise as they
could be expected to bestow upon “a fighting character.”

After politely requesting them to be seated, the General
made close inquiry relating to the British force on the island.

His manner being calculated to inspire confidence, they
very candidly told all they knew, and acquainted him with
some facts before unknown to him.

General Washington inquired where they passed the night,
and said he was entirely convinced, from his knowledge of
their Society, and of the person with whom they tarried,
that their object was, as they represented, entirely religious.

‘He apologized for their detention, saying it seemed unavoid-
able, and if they returned the same way, he should be happy
to hear of their success in seeing their friends.

When the humble company entered the General’s presence.
an aid stepped up and hinted to them the propriety of remoy-
ing their hats. Henry Pattison said: “In presence of God,
in prayer alone, do we bow the uncovered head. Before
kings, or the mightiest of earth’s potentates, this respect is
not shown. In //is sight, there is no respect of persons; in
ours, all men are brethren.”

General Washington said he was well acquainted with their
customs, and some of his best friends were of their body. He.

advised them to go forward, and always plainly tell the truth. ~
236

 
TIDINGS OF PEACE. 45

On their return, passing again near. the camp, they availed
themselves of General Washington’s invitation. He appeared
deeply interested in their relation of what they had seen and
heard, and dismissed them with kind assurances of regard,
requesting them to represent to the enemy whatever they
chose, as he knew they would.tell only the truth, in which he
was willing to trust.

1782. Aug. 10th. News of Lord North’s resignation of the
office of Prime Minister, and the forming a new cabinet, who
advise his majesty to discontinue the war. Glorious news|
Heaven grant it may be true. It is certain the war has proved
but great loss of life and treasure, without any real gain to
English valor, or concession on the part of the Colonies.

Faces of men, women and children brighten with expecta-
tion of better times. May their hope be not again over-
clouded! In war there is not a gleam of light to illuminate
the darkness. Its practices are adverse to the law of con-
science, and lacerating to the feeling heart. 2

Weare ready to shout the pean of victory, to exult afar
off in the triumph, and to cheer on the conflict. But could
we witness the heart-sickening details, see the loathsome
reality, hear the piercing groan, the horrid imprecation, the
fiendish laugh, we should “rejoice with trembling,” and
mourn the necessity while we return thanks for the victory.

Then let us pause in silence, and while the good angel of
our thoughts brings to our recollection the frightful Gorgon-
brood of evils which follow in, the train of War, pray with-
out ceasing that Peace may come and reign in our land.

April 23. The ery of peace resounds! The news came
to-day. The children ran from school, dismissed by the
teacher, that all might share in the general joy. They are
told that some great good has happened, they know not
what. The time will come when they will experience and
treasure it as the highest favor vouchsafed by a kind Provi-
dence. God be praistd!

The soldiers and Hessians are moving off in bands, and the

sick are left behind to follow after. Many of the poor
“ 237

 
46 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

creatures have formed attachments, and the ties of kindness
and gratitude are hard to break. The human heart, of whateyer
clime or station, wi// respond to good treatment; and it is
cheering and delightful to observe that, in spite of the great-
est personal inconvenience, by patience and good offices, we
may awaken interest and gratitude in those beneath us.

Many of them begged to be permitted to remain, in some
menial-capacity ; but the ties of kindred prevailed with the
greater part. :

This diary, it will be perceived, is couched in a spirit of
trust in God which makes its patriotic utterances all the
more impressive. Unquestionably the religious element was
Jargely developed among the leading classes during the great
struggle for our independence. ‘The men of ’76, we are firm-
ly persuaded, when compared with any other body of men
who have brought about important political changes, will ap-
pear eminent for general purity of character, for the absence
of egotism in all its shapes, for a self-renouncing love of
country, and for that deep sense of religion which lies at the
bottom of all really noble qualities. In illustration of this,
we may mention an incident in the life of one of them, who
is scarcely known out of his own State, and far too little in it.

The Governor of Virginia, at the time of the siege of
Yorktown, was a gentleman who, at the commencement of
the Revolutionary struggle, possessed, in addition to other
advantages, the largest fortune in that then wealthy colony.
He not only took his part in the ordinary dangers of that
era, he not only periled his life in the high places of the field,
but he likewise laid his ample fortune as an offering on the
altar of his country. The close of the war left that country
free, and him impoverished and contented. This forgetful-
ness of self, this loftiness of spirit, was not the characteristic
of a few distinguished men—it was the temper of the people
at that day. The common soldiers, marching to battle, might
he tracked by the blood issuing from their naked and lacer-
ated feet.

Duty was the watchword. There was a fervent religious

238

 
RELIGIOUS ELEMENT OF THE REVOLUTION. 47

spirit existing, more than their descendants generally un-
derstand or acknowledge. Religion did not use the same
dialect, or wear the same garb, as at present; she did not
make broad her phylacteries, and enlarge the »borders of
her garments as at present; but it may well be questioned
whether her principles were not as deeply seated in the minds
of men, whether her practical influence was not as powerful
and happy, whether her results were not as acceptable to
God, and as profitable to man. How solemn and how fre-
quent are the recognitions of Divine Providence in the public
documents of that day! Days of humiliation for national
sins, and of national thanksgivings for national mercies, were
solemnly appointed and devoutly observed.

During the Revolutionary war, Mr. Jefferson, then a mem-
ber of the House of Delegates of Virginia, from the county
of Albemarle, wrote to the minister_of the parish in that
county, urging upon him the most solemn observance of a
fast, then recently appointed by the Legislature. This proves
either that Mr. Jefferson’s own sentiments on religious sub-
jects were, at that time, more sound than they became after
his residence in Paris, and his intercourse with the French
Encyclopeedists, or that he knew the strength of the religious
feelings of the people, and wished them enlisted in favor of
the cause in which .he was embarked. In either point of
view it is significant.

Of this religious feeling there was a remarkable expression
in the Convention which framed our present Constitution.
Their deliberations were not proceeding happily, and there
seemed to be danger that they would break up without effect-
ing the object for which they had met. Under these circum-
stances, Dr. Franklin, a man not considered remarkable among
his cotemporaries for a devotional spirit, rose and said, “ that
he had lived a long time, and the longer he lived the more
convincing proofs he saw that God governed in the affairs of
men. He firmly believed what was taught in thesacred writ-
ings, that ‘except the Lord build the house, they labor in

vain who build it. That he attributed their ill-success to
239

 
48 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

their not humbly applying to the Father of Lights to illumi-
nate their understandings; and he moved that prayers, implor-
ing the assistance of Heaven, and its blessing on their delib-
erations, be henceforth held.” .

How sublime and-affecting was the sight, when, according
to his proposal, that assemblage of world-famons men, gal-
lant warriors, eminent statesmen, illustrious sages, knelt in
prayer and asked for the wisdom which they confessed they
had not. It was indeed a characteristic and memorable
scene. Those magnanimous men, that had recently braved
the fury of the most powerful monarch upon earth, that had
never feared the face of mortal, now humbled themselves like
little children before Almighty God, acknowledged their
weakness, and craved his fatherly help and blessing. And
shall we not believe that they received it? Nothing could
make us doubt it but the degeneracy of their descendants.
Who could now say of an American Congress, what Lord
Chatham said of the Congress of his day, that, ‘“ compared
with a Roman Senate, it deserved the preference for dignity
and for wisdom.” How bitter a sarcasm would such an ob-
servation be, after one of those scenes of personal altercation
and reviling which disgrace every session, and which make
the cheek of a true-hearted American to burn with shame and
indignation when he reads them.

 

THE BATTLE OF BLOODY BROOK,

In the Autumn of the year 1675, a little army of brave men

had assembled at the town of Hadley, on the banks of the

Connecticut river, to defend that place and the neighboring

hamlets from the attacks of the Indians, who, banded together

under the command of the brave Philip, had committed many

and serious depredations along the valley of the river. Among
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PHILIP’S AMBUSCADE. 51

other towns which had suffered from the malignant hate of
the savages, was Deerfield, a few miles above Hadley. This
place had been partially burned and the inhabitants scattered
during the previous summer, and there yet remained in the
fields some three thousand bushels of wheat, in stacks, just as
the husbandman had left it when driven from his Siete It
_ was desirable not only to obtain this for the use of the little
‘army and the numerous families who had assembled at Had-
ley for protection, but also to keep it from falling into the
hands of the Indians, and it was decided to send a party to
thresh it out and transport it to head-quarters. Captain La-
throp was appointed to command the detail of sixty-six men
and eighteen teamsters, who had been selected for the expe-
dition. It was made up of young men, the very “flower of
the country,” who burned to distinguish themselves in aid of
the cause which they were assembled to defend——the sanctity
of their homes and firesides.

Many a cheek was wet as they took up their march toward
their destination, and many a maiden heaved a deep-drawn
sigh as her lover disappeared from her sight; for, although
no immediate danger was apprehended, yet none knew in
those troublous times when the storm might break upon their
devoted heads, and overwhelm them in its fury. The depart-
ure of so considerable a body of their choicest men, therefore,
gave cause of uneasiness to all, and unnumbered prayers were
offered to Heaven for their safe return. —

Arriving in safety at Deerfield, the men commenced with a
will the performance of their work, and the grain was threshed
out, the teams loaded, and with light hearts they started to
return to their expectant friends. The savage enemy had,
however, through their numerous spies, obtained intelligence
of the expedition, and determined to cut it off. Collecting a
body of between six and seven hundred warriors, Philip*
narrowly watched the movements of Captain Lathrop and his

* History makes no mention of Philip as connected with this battle. But
from well authenticated Itdian tradition, as well as from the fact that he
is known to have been absent from Mount Hope—his residence—at the
time, it is almost certain that he Piepred and led on the attack. |

; 24

 
52 TALES AND TRADITIONS: °

party, and when they started to return, he planned an ambus-
cade at a spot which in eyery way was suited to his purpose.

After leaving Deerfigld, for some three miles the road ran
nearly parallel with the Connecticut river, through a level
country ; it then diverged, and for half a mile ran along the

-edge of a morass, which it crossed, and took a southerly di+
rection toward Sugar-loaf hill, across what are now the ‘ home
lots,” to the eastward of the village of South Deerfield. The —
morass was covered with a thick growth of underbrush,
which afforded concealment for the savage foe, who, with nos-
trils dilated and eyes gleaming with deadly hate, lay in wait-
ing, like a couchant tiger, trembling in their eagerness to
spring upon their unsuspecting victims. Little dreaming of
the danger which lurked in their path, the little company of —
brave hearts came onward to their fate. With lamentable
carelessness, Lathrop failed to throw out flankers on his front
and flanks, but marched blindfold into the snare laid for him
by the cunning Philip. Crossing the morass, without sus-
pecting the proximity of their foe, the little band reached the
banks of a small stream, or rivulet, which crossed the road,
near which, tradition informs us, grew great quantities of the
luscious wild grapes, which were ripening in the sun, and
the tempting bunches,hung in profusion from among the
branches of the surrounding trees. While waiting for the
teams to draw their heavy loads through the morass, they
carelessly piled their arms and hastened to partake of the
tempting repast so bountifully spread.

Now was the opportunity for the savage foe, and “ quick
as fire from smitten steel,” a volley was poured upon the de-
voted youths which laid .ow many a promising form. Cool
and calm under all circumstances, and as brave as cool, they
rallied at the words and, seizing their arms, dealt back upon
their fiend-like enemy a shower of balls which made many a
warrior bite the dust. A second, and a third, aimed with a
clear eye and steady nerves, told so well that the savages be-
gan to waver. A gleam of hope broke through the fearful
prospect, and for a moment they dreamed of victory. But

244 ete

 
THE MASSACRE. 53

now appears the savage form of the Wampanoag chief, and
in thunder-tones he cheers on his band. The dusky warriors
rally at the sound of his thrilling voice, and surrounding the
brave pale-faced youths, they dealt death on every side.
With-half their number slain, the heroic little band perceives
now the hopelessness of their situation and the certainty of
_ theirfate. Nota nerve thrilled with fear, not a heart falteredy
but calmly they determined to sell their lives at fearful cost
to the foe. One by one they fall, a gory harvest to their
mother earth, and the crimson life-blood, from their still
beating hearts, finds its way in many a rill to the neighboring
stream, and, mixing with its waters, christens it “ Bloody
Brook.” arly in the action their brave leader was shot
down while cheering on his men, and now, falling faster as
their numbers decrease, a solitary few are all that are left to
contend against the overwhelming force of the enemy. The
foremost of these, turning to encourage his comrades, finds
but seven remaining of all that goodly company. Finding
that further resistance will only add to the scalps of the vic-
tors, they dashed through their enemy’s line and ran for the
Deerfield river, pursued by two hundred savage warriors.
Two only lived to reach its banks. One attempted to swim
the stream, but sunk, pierced by aedozen balls; the other
managed to slide silently into the water, where he lay screened
by a fallen tree and the rank grass, until the Indians gave up
the search and returned to the bloody field to secure the
scalps of the dead and dying. When all was still, and during
the darkness of the night, he swam across the river, and,
stiff and cold, began his march for Hadley, where he arrived —
on the following day, the last and only survivor of 2 Wattle
of Bloody Brook.

Returning to the ensanguined field, the savages s cotfimenced
to strip the much-coveted trophies from the still warm bodies
of their yietims. Not satisfied with this, they severed the
heads from their trunks, in their infernal joy, and raising them
upon the points of poles, danced around them in fiendish glee,
while fresh streams of blood added their purple tint to the

245

 
54 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

little brook, which for days ran red with the richest tide that
ever rivulet bore. Theirsavage revelry was suddenly stopped,
however, by the appearance of a party under the command
of Captain Mosely, who, having heard the firing, had hastened
to. Lathrop’s relief. But, alas! too late. Fired with ven-
geance at the sight of their mangled comrades, they broke
through the savage foe, and charging back and forth, cut
down all within range of their shot. After several hours of
hard 5 and Captain Treat coming up with additional
force, the Indians were compelled to retreat, with a loss of
ninety-six warriors. . Mosely lost only two killed. The dead —
were collected and buried, and, within a few years, a marble
monument has been erected ¢ Pyar the spot where they fought
and fell.

Another massacre, quite similar in its character—owing its
fatal success to the betrayal of the enterprise to the savages—
was the night conflict at the creek just above Da now

called, in commemoration of the event, “ Bloody Run.” Dur-
ing the memorable siege of Detroit by the Indians under the
great Ottawa chief, Pontiac, 1763, the brave English garrison
was reinforced by a strong detachment sent up from Niagara,
in bateaux, under command of Captain Dalzell. This rein-
forcement reaching the beleaguered post in safety, placed the
garrison in a position of offense. The savages, composed. of
the “ braves” of the combined tribes of Potawatomies, Wy-
andots, and Ottawas, were as watchful and as ferocious as
hyenas, but they had to deal with men as brave as they, and
‘who, in the end, triumphed over their barbarous assailants.

Seeing how affairs stood, the bold Dalzell at once conceived
the enterprise of a night attack upon the savages encamped
beyond the stream aboye referred to. Gladwyn, at first, did
not favor the sally, knowing the strength and ceaseless vigi-
lance of the great chief; but the lion-hearted Captain would
hear no refusal; and was so urgent and strenuous that the
commandant at length yielded.*

* This is the same Dalzell who was a joint hero w ith. Israel Putnam in
many of his most memorable adventures. ’

246

a Se

 
CANADIAN TREACHERY. 55

On the thirtieth of July, orders were issued, and prepara-
tions made for the attack. With an unpardonable want of
discretion, some of the officers allowed several Canadians to
know their intentions, one of whom betrayed it all to Pon-
tiae.

, As might have been expected, the wily chief made every
thing ready to receive the assailants. At two o’clock in the
morning, two hundred and fifty soldiers, two deep, passed
noiselessly through the gates and marched up the left river-
bank. Two large bateaux, each containing a swivel, kept
abreast of them in the Dotter river. The advanced guard
of twenty-five was led by Lieutenant Brown, the ceuter by
Captain Gray, and the rear by Captain Grant. “ The night
was still, close and sultry, and the men marched in light un-
dress. .On their right was the dark, gleaming eae of the
river, with a margin of sand intervening; on their left a
succession of Canadian houses, w ith barns, orchards and corn-
fields, from whence the clamorous bar king of watch-dogs

saluted them as they passed. The inhabitants, roused fot
sleep, looked from the windows in astonishment and alarm.
An old man has told the writer how, when a child, he climbed
on the roof of his father’s house, to look down on the glim-
mering bayonets, and how, long after the treops had passed,
their heavy and measured tramp sounded from afar through
the still night. Thus the English moved forward to the at-
tack, little thinking that, behind houses and inclosures, Indian
scouts watched every yard of their progress—little suspecting
that Pontiac, apprised by the Canadians of their plan, had
broken up his camp, and was coming against them with all
his warriors, armed and decorated for battle.”

The Indian village or camp is bey« ond a small stream which
puts in from the western shore, a ‘short distance above De-
troit. At the point where the bridge crosses it, the stream
descended through a deep and wild-looking hollow, while
upon the opposite side, the river-bank rose in several ridges.
Here Pontiac had erected several intrenchments, besides

throwing t together several piles of cordwood, further on.
247

 
56 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

Behind these were crouching hundreds of Indians, who, with
guns ready-cocked, listened to the dull tramp of the approach-
ing soldiers.

The advanced guard had crossed the bridge, and the main
body was just entering, when loud yells burst forth, and a
sheet of fire flamed along the whole ridge, like the broadside
of a frigate. One-half the advanced guard fell dead, and the
others recoiled in terror; but Dalzell, in his clear, stirring
voice, inspired his men with his own courage. Advancing
to the front, he led them to the attack. A second volley was
poured into them, when, furious with rage, he led the men on
a rapid run across the ridge; but not an Indian was visible.
Half frantic with fear and fury, the soldiers charged behind
the fence and the intrenchments, but the agile savages were
gone. The night had now become of inky darkness, and the
men were soon scattered and lost among the houses and
inclosures. The only resource left was to retreat and wait for
daylight. Accordingly, Captain Grant led his men across the
bridge, where the others soon followed, with the exception
of a small party, which remained.to check the rapid pursuit
of the enemy. Amid a hot firing upon both sides, the dead
and wounded were placed in the two bateaux. Immediately
after, the rapid report of musketry was heard in the rear,
where Captain Grant was stationed. The shots had come
from the house of Meloche and the surrounding orchards,
where large numbers of savages had intrenched themselves.

Captain Grant charged right at them, driving them at the
point of the bayonet from the orchard and from the house,
where they found two Canadians, who stated that the Indians
had gone in great numbers to occupy the houses below, from
which they intended to cut off their retreat.

This being the case, the only hope was in instant retreat.
The men were collected in marching order, and the march
commenced, Captain Grant leading, ana Dalzell bringing up
the rear. Numbers of Indians dogacd them, and when their
fire became too galling, the soldiers Pwheeled and returned it.

_ In this manner they psec for over half a mile, when

949

 
*

DALZELL’S RETREAT. 57

they came abreast of a number of barns protected by strong
pickets. These were safely passed by the advance party ;
but when the center and rear came opposite, loud yells greet-
ed them, and a most murderous volley was poured into their
ranks. The men shrunk, hesitated and recoiled, and had it
not been for Dalzell, would have broke and fled. Though
severely wounded himself, he commanded, threatened, and, it
is said, smote several timid ones with the flat of his sword.
His persistent efforts partially restored the men, when the |
fire was returned with considerable effect.
It was now near daybreak, and the incessant rattle of rifles,
together with the horrid yells of the Indians, so drowned the
voices of the leaders that their commands could not be heard.
The soldiers read their orders only in the excited faces and
frenzied gestures. One of the houses had been filled by the
savages and from its windows scores of rifles were continually
flashing. Mafor Rogers at the head of his rangers split open
the door with an ax and burst in among them like a thunder-
bolt. They fled in every direction, as the rangers swarmed
in. At the same instant Captain Gray was sent to dislodge a
number that were firing from behind the fences. He charged
them at the head of his company, but fell with a mortal wound
before he reached them. His men kept on and routed the In-
dians. The retreat was now resumed with comparatively
good order. The fire of the Indians had nearly ceased, but,
leaping forward they seized the stragglers, cut them down
and scalped them without mercy. <A poor sergeant of the
55th, so wounded that he could not walk, raised himself on
his hands and gazed after his retreating comrades with such
a despairing, beseeching expression, that the noble-hearted
Dalzell, now wounded himself in two places, ran toward him
with the intention of rescuing the man from his inhuman
enemies. As he reached out his arms to seize the wounded
soldier, a shot struck him and he fell dead before him. None
paused to see their fate. There was no time. Death was
hanging on their rear. — bee

The Indians were rapidly concentrating their numbers

ae 249

 
58 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

again, and the massacre would have been far more dreadful,
had not Rogers with his rangers taken possession of another
house, which commanded the road and protected the retreat.

The account of this battle by Parkman is so graphic and
truthful that we transcribe that Porn descriptive of the re-
maining part of the fight:

fs Roger rs entered this house with some of his men, while
many panic-stricken regulars broke in after him, in their eager-
ness to gain a temporary shelter. The house was a large and
strong one, and the women of the neighborhood had crowded
into the cellar for refuge. While some of the soldiers looked
in blind terror for a place of concealment, others seized upon
a keg of whisky in one of the rooms, and quafted the liquor
es eager thirst, while others, again, piled packs of. furs,
furniture, and all else within their reach, against the windows,
to serve asa barricade. Panting and breathless, their Bocas
moist with sweat and blackened with gunpowder, they thrust
their muskets through the openings, and fired out upon the
whooping assailants. At intervals a bullet flew whizzing
through a crevice, striking down a man, perchance, or rap-
ping harmlessly against the partitions. Old Campau, the
master of the house, stood on a trap-door to prevent the
frightened soldiers from seeking shelter among the women in
the cellar. A ball grazed his gray head, and buried itself in
the wall, where a few years since it might still have been seen.
The screams of the half-stifled women below, the quivering
_war-whoops without, the shouts and curses of the soldiers, ©

the groans and blaspheming of the wounded men, mingled in

a scene of clamorous confusion, and it was long before the
authority of Rogers could restore order. .
“In the mean time, Captain Grant, with his advance party,
had moved forward about half a mile, when he found some
orchards and inclosures, by means of which he could maintain
himself until the center and rear should arrive. From this
point he detached all the men he could spare to oceupy the
houses below; and as soldiers soon began to come in from the ~

rear, he was enabled to reinforce these de achments, until a
200" m

 
CAPTAIN GRANT. ; 59

complete line of communication was established with the fort
and the retreat effectually secured. Within an hour the whole
party had arrived, with the exception of Rogers and his men,
who were quite unable to come off, being besieged in the
house of Campau, by full two hundred Indians. The two
atmed bateaux had gone down to the fort, laden with the
dead and wounded. They now returned, and, in obediénce
to an order from Captain Grant, proceeded up the river to a
point opposite Campau’s house where they opened a fire of
Swivels, which swept the ground above and below it, and
completely scattered the assailants. Rogers and his party
now came out and marched down the road, to unite them-
selves with Grant. The two bateaux accompanied them
closely, and by a constant fire, restrained the Indians from
making ap attack. Searcely had Rogers left the house at one
door, when the enemy entered it at another, to obtain the
scalps from two or three corpses left behind. Foremost of
them all, a withered old squaw rushed in, with a shrill scream,
and slashing open one of the dead bodies with her knife,
scooped up the blood between her hands, and quaffed it with
a ferocious ecstasy.”

' The retreat was conducted so admirably by Captain Grant
that not another of his men was injured. At eight o’clock
in the morning, the last man of the decimated detachment
was received within the walls of the fort, when it was found
* that fifty-nine had been killed and wounded. [The Indians
had not lost more than one-fourth that number,* it was after-
ward ascertained. ] 7

The death of the noble Dalzell, and so many of his brave
men, spread a gloom for the time over Detroit. All felt that,
had not the Canadians proved traitors, the Indians would
have been most completely punished. The condition of the
garrison, however, was now much better than it had ever
been. There were over three hundred men within the inclo-
sure, every one of whom had had abundant experience in

* Some authorities give the losses of the English as seventy, besides forty
_ wounded, Se ¥

 
   

 

   

‘
60 TALES AND TRADITIONS. A l

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Indian warfare. These were well provided with ammi, _
and provisions, and Gladwin felt that the raising of thé U, 14
was only a question of time, and perhaps of eternity rv" j
few more of his brave fellows. .
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runners for hundreds of miles through the adjoining cow},
with news of the battle. Vast numbers came from great}
tances to join him, until over a thousand were dancing} QO)
yelling in his village, and he became stronger in his q ‘
that the garrison would eventually fall into his hands. 7
vision of vengeance which haunted him seemed to demo
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