© oe rs "Su wn bi a b oe ~ n E wo — ~~ GH o a ° wn = cS 3 TR o a ~ ‘rancisco ’ Peter } j ¢ ps as - A ig 8, TRADITIONS AND ROMANCE OFr BORDER AND REVOLUTIONARY TIMES. Po “am 8 FRANCISCO, the WESTERN SAMSON. THE INDIAN GIRL SAVING HOWARD. HUGHES KILLING THE TURKEY. HAMILTON SAVING HIS CLOTH. . NEW YORK: BEADLE AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS, 118 WILLIAM STREET. wes # oh? x Entered according to Act of Congress, in the Year 1864, by BEADLE AND Company, in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United { States for the Southern District of New York. e ¥ (T. 9.) { ¥ c : ot PETER FRANCISCO. As late as the year 1836, there lived in Western Virginia a man whose strength was so remarkable as to win him the title of the “ Virginia Sampson.” He knew nothing of his birth or parentage, but supposed he was born in Portugal, from whence he was stolen when a cbild and carried to Ire- land. His earliest recollections were those of boyhood in the latter country. While yet a lad, he apprenticed himself to a sea-captain for seven years, in pay for a passage to this country. On his arrival, his time and services were sold to a Mr. Winston, of Virginia, in whose service he remained until the breaking out of the Revolution. Being of an adventur- ous turn of mind, he sought and obtained permission of his master to join the army, and was engaged in active service during the whole contest. Such was his strength and per- sonal bravery, that no enemy could resist him. He wielded a sword, the blade of which was five feet in length, as though it had been a feather, and every one who came in contact with him paid the forfeit of his life. At Stony Point he was — one of the “ forlorn hope” which was advanced to cut away the abatis, and, next to Major Gibbon, was the first man to enter the works. At Brandywine and Monmouth he exhibited the most fearless bravery, and nothing but his inability to write prevented his promotion to a commission. Transferred to the South, he took part in most of the engagements in that section, and toward the close of the war he was engaged in a contest which exhibited, in a striking mangemgs remark- able self-confidence and courage. ‘137 — . yO RE tn aarp " . sat ennarpn cerns ee 6 TALES AND TRADITIONS. One day, while reconnoitering, he stopped at the house of a man by the name of W-. , to refresh himself. "While at the table, he was surprised by nine British troopers, who rode up to the house and told him that he was their prisoner. © “3 Seeing that he was so greatly outnumbered, he pretended to surrender, and the dragoons, thinking him peacefully inclined, after disarming him, allowed him considerable freedom, while they sat down to partake of the food which he had left when disturbed. Wandering out into the dooryard, he was accosted 7 by the paymaster, who demanded of him every thing of value about him, at the risk of his life in case of refusal. “T have nothing to give,” said Francisco, “so use your “ pleasure.” “‘ Give up those massive silver buckles in your shoes,” said the dragoon. : “They were the gift of a friend,” replied Francisco, “ and give them up to you I never shall; take them if you will— you have the power; but I will never give them to any one.” ‘ Putting his saber under his arm, the soldier stooped down ° i ‘to take them. Francisco, seeing the opportunity, which was ¥ too good to be lost, seized the sword, and drawing it with f force from under the arm of the soldier, dealt him a severe blow A across the skull. Although wounded, yet, being a brave man, . the dragoon drew a pistol and aimed it at his antagonist, who was too quick for him, however, and as he pulled the trigger, a blow from the sword nearly severed his wrist, and ~ placed him hors du combat. ,The report of the pistol drew the other dragoons into the yard, as well as W- » who very j ungenerously brought out a musket, which he handed to one of the soldiers, and told him to make use of it. Mounting the only horse they could get at, he ‘presented the muzzle at the breast of Francisco and pulled the trigger. Fortunately it missed fire, and Francisco closed in upon him. - Sa SEE EER RS el es ye - pe rpereen ’ at . . elias ames chek saint ee rn a ET I Ff } é ¥ * 4. =~ FRANCISCO AND THE DRAGOONS. 7 Seeing’ his case was desperate, he turned toward an adjoining thicket, and, as if cheering on a party of men, he cried out: ““Come on, my brave boys! now’s your time! we will soon dispatch these few, and then attack the main body!” at the same time rushing at the dragoons with the fury of an enraged tiger. They did not wdit to engage him, but fled precipitately to the troop, panic-struck and dismayed. Seizing upon ‘ , Francisco was about to dispatch the traitorous villain W him, but he begged so hard for his life that he forgave him, and told him to secrete for him the eight horses which the soldiers had left behind them. Perceiving that Tarleton had dispatched ten other dragoons in search of him, he made off into the adjoining wood, and while they stopped at the house, he, like an old fox, doubled upon their rear, and successfully evaded their vigilance. The next day he went to W. for his horses, who demanded two of them for his services and generous intentions. Finding his situation dangerous, and surrounded by enemies where he ought to have found friends, Francisco was compelled to make the best of it, and left with his six horses, intending to revenge himself upon-W. at a future time; “ but,” as he said, “‘ Providence ordained that I should not be his executioner, for he broke his neck by a fall from one of the very horses.” ; Many other anecdotes are told of Francisco, illustrative of _ his immense strength and personal prowess. At Camden, — where Gates was defeated, he retreated, and after running along a road some distance, he sat down to rest himself. He was suddenly accosted by a British dragoon, who presented a pistol and demanded his immediate surrender. His ‘gun being empty, he feigned submission, and said he would sur- render, at the same time remarking that his gun was of no further use to him, he presented it sideways to the trooper, who, in reaching for it, threw himself off his guard, when Francisco, quick as thought, ran him through with the bayo- net, and as he fell from his horse, he mounted him and contin- ued his retreat. Overtaking his commanding officer, Colonel 139 By i be ue a ane Ee bi i} itt #7 Pe | if ft | i t | t i | eee nae erate — TALES AND TRADITIONS. Mayo, of Powhatan, he gave him up the animal, for which act of generosity the Colonel afterward presented him with a thousand acres of land in Kentucky. Francisco was a powerfully-built man, standing six feet and an inch in height, and weighing two hundred and sixty pounds. His muscular system was extraordinarily developed, and he had been known to shoulder with ease a cannon weighing eleven hundred pounds. A gentleman of undoubted veracity, (still living in Virginia,) who knew him well, says, “ he could take me in his right hand and pass over the room with me, playing my head against the ceiling as though I had been a doll-baby. My weight was one hundred and ninety- five pounds.” His wife, who was a woman of good size and fine proportions, he would take in his right hand, and holding her out at arm’s length, would pass around the room with her; and carry her up and down stairs in that position. He would take a barrel of cider by the chines, and holding it to his mouth, would drink from the bung a long and hearty draught, without any apparent exertion. Yet, with all his strength, he was a very peacefully-disposed man, and never made use of his power except in case of necessity about his usual vocations, or in defense of the right. On occasions of outbreaks at public gatherings, he was better at rushing in and préserving the public peace than all the conservative au- thorities on the ground. Although uneducated, he was a man of strong natural common sense, and of a kind, amiable disposition. He was, withal, a companionable man, and his anecdotes and stories of the war—of which he possessed a rich fund—rendered him a welcome guest in the first families in the State. His industrious and temperate habits, together with his kind disposition, made him many friends, and through their influence he was appointed Sergeant-at-Arms of the Virginia House of Delegates, in which service he died, in 1836, and was buried with military honors in the public burying-ground at Richmond, An encounter of a still more desperate character than that of Francisco with the British troopers, is related of Adam 140 ‘d= ADAM POE AND THE JNDIAN GIANT. 9 Poe, another Virginian, distinguished for strength and cool- ness under difficulties : In the summer of 1782, a party of seven Wyandots made an incursion into a settlement some distance below Fort Pitt, in Virginia. Here, finding an old man alone in a cabin, they killed him, packed what plunder they could find, and com- menced their retreat. Among their party was a celebrated Wyandot chief, who, in addition to his fame as a warrior and counselor, was, as to his size and strength, a real giant. The news of the visit of the Indians soon spread through the neighborhood, and a party of eight good riflemen was selected in a few hours for the purpose of pursuing the Indians. In this party were two brothers, of the names of Adam and on Andrew Poe. They were both famous for courage, skill and a activity. This little party commenced the pursuit of the Indians with a determination, if possible, not to suffer them» to escape, as they usually did on such occasions, by making a speedy flight to the Ohio river, crossing it, and then dividing into small parties, to meet at a distant point in a given time. — The pursuit was continued the greater part of the night, after the Indians had done the mischief. In the morning the party found themselves on the trail of the Indians, which led to the river. When arrived within a little distance of the river, Adam Poe, fearing an ambuscade, left the party, who followed directly on the trail, to creep along the river bank, under cover of the woods and bushes, to fall on the rear of the Indians, should he find them in ambuscade. He had not gone far before he saw the Indian rafts at the water’s edge. Not seeing any Indians, he stepped softly down the bank, with his rifle cocked. When about half-way down, he dis- — covered the large Wyandot chief, and a small Indian, within. a few steps of him. They were standing with their guna cocked, and looking an the direction of our party, who, by this time, had gone some distance lower down the bottom. Poe took aim at the large chief, but his rifle missed fire. The Indians hearing the snap*of the gun-lock, instantly turned round and discovered Poe, who, being too near them to 141 ‘ Se aa a a a pr inne ————— SET Se: TALES AND TRADITIONS. retreat, dropped his gun, and sprung from the bank upon them, and seizing the large Indian by the clothes on his breast, and at the same time embracing the neck of the small one, threw them both down on the ground, himself being uppermost. The small Indian soon extricated himself, ran to the raft, got his tomahawk, and attempted to dispatch Poe, the large In- dian holding him fast in his arms with all his might, the bet- ter to enable his fellow to effect his purpose. Poe, however, so well watched the motions of his assailant, that, when in the act of aiming.a blow at his head, by a vigorous and well- directed kick with one of his feet, he staggered the savage, and knocked the tomahawk out of his hand. This failure, on the part of the small Indian, was reproved by an exclamation of contempt from the large one. In a moment the Indian caught up his tomahawk again, approached more cautiously, brandishing the weapon, and making a number of feigned blows in derision and defiance. Poe, however, still on his guard, averted the real blow from his head, by throwing up his arm, and receiving it on his wrist, in which he was severely wounded; but not so as to entirely lose the power of his arm. In this perilous moment, Poe, by a violent effort, broke loose from the Indian, snatched up one of the enemy’s guns, and shot the small Indian through the breast, as he ran up the third time to tomahawk him. The large Indian was now on his feet, and grasping Poe by a shoulder and leg, threw him down on the bank. Poe in- stantly disengaged himself, and got on his feet. The savage then seized him again, and a new struggle ensued, which, owing to the slippery state of the bank, ended in the fall of both combatants into the water. In this situation, it was the object of each to drown the other. Their efforts to effect their purpose were continued for some time with alternate succeds, sometimes one being under the avater, and sometimes the other. Poe at length seized the tuft of hair on the sealp of the Indian, with which he held his head under water until _he supposed him drowned. Relaxing his hold too soon, Poe instantly found his gigantic antagonist on his feet again, and 142 ( “ “ on * ANDREW TUMLINSON. 11 ready for another combat. In this they were carried into the water beyond their depth. In this situation they were com- pelled to loose their hold on each other, and swim for mutual safety. Both sought the shore, to seize a gun, and end the contest with bullets. The Indian being the best swimmer, reached the land first. Poe seeing this, immediately turned back into the water, to escape, if possible, being shot, by diving. Fortunately the Indian caught up the rifle with which Poe had killed the other warrior. At this juncture, Andrew Poe arrived upon the spot. Missing his brother from the party, and supposing, from the report of the gun, that he*was either killed, or engaged in a conflict with the savages, he hastened in the direction whence the firing came. On seeing him, Adam called out to him to “kill the big Indian on shore.” But Andrew’s gun, like that of the Indian, was empty. The contest was now between the white and the Indian, who should load and fire first. Very fortunately for Poe, the Indian in loading drew the ramrod from the thimbles_ Ps of the stock of the gun with so much violence, that it slipped ae out of his hand, and fell a little distance from him. He quickly caught it up, and rammed down his bullet. This little delay gave Poe the advantage. He shot the Indian as he was rais- ing his gun to take aim at him. During the contest between Poe and the Indians, the rest of the party had overtaken the remaining five of them. A desperate conflict ensued, in which all of the Indians were killed, save one, who alone escaped to tell the melancholy tale of the fate of his fellows. There was great grief in the Wyandot nation. The big Indian, and four of his brothers, who were all killed in this conflict, were distinguished chiefs, and their fall caused universal mourning. Davy Crockett preserves for us another ndicenitouill not so remarkable as the on@ just told, but quite worthy of our at- tention. ‘Andrew Tumlinson,” said he, “belonged to a family which the colonists of De Witt will long remember as one of their chief stays in the dangers of settling those wilds, trodden only by the children of the forest. This indefatigable 143 aera ane aet ns ceaneetenaeendiemaatetaaeeaaaaaeaan Eee aeaaaaeleanie 12 TALES AND TRADITIONS. champion of revenge for his father’s death, who. had fallen some years before, by Indian treachery, had vowed never to rest until he had received satisfaction. In order the better to accomplish this end, he was one of the foremost, if possible, in every skirmish with the Indians; and that he might be enabled to do so without restraint, he placed his wife under the care of his brother-in-law, shouldered his rifle and headed «lt a ranging party, who were resolved to secure peace to those who followed them, though purchased by their own death. “He had been frequently victorious in the most desperate ; fights, where the odds were greatly against him; but at last fell a victim to his own imprudence. A Caddo had been ; seized as a spy, and threatened with death in order to compel him to deliver up his knife. The fellow never moved a mus- cle, nor even winked, as he beheld the rifles pointed at him. ; He had been found lurking in the yard attached to the house P of a solitary and unprotected family; and he knew that the ie i whites were exasperated at his tribe for injuries which they - al i had committed. When discovered, he was accompanied by j his little son. : “'Tumlinson spoke to him in Spanish, to learn what had brought him there at such a time, but, instead of giving any ‘ satisfaction, he sprung to, his feet, ftom the log where he was seated, at the same time seizing his rifle, which was lying be- side him. The owner of the house, with whom the Indian had been on a friendly footing, expostulated with him, and got him to surrender the gun, telling him that the E whites only wished to be satisfied of his friendly intentions, and had no desire to injure one who might be useful in con- ciliating his red brethren. He appeared to acquiesce, and wrapping his blanket more closely around his body, moved on in silence, ahead of the whites. Tumlinson approached him, and, although the rest of the party privately cautioned him not to go too near, as they believed the Indian had a e* knife under his blanket, he disregarded the warning, trusting for safety to his rifle and dexterity. He continued to interro- gate the captive, until he awakened the suspicions of the ~ 144 =F Ta a COLONEL GAVIN JAMES. 13 latter that his life was not safe. The Indian returned no answer but a short, caustic laugh at the end of every ques- tion. Tumlinson at length beheld his countenance become more savage, which was followed by a sudden movement of the right hand beneath the blanket. He fired, and the next instant the Caddo’s knife was in his heart—for the savage sprung with the quickness of a wildcat upon his prey. The rifle-ball had passed through the Indian’s body, yet his victim appeared to be no more in his grasp than a sparrow in the talons of an eagle, for he was a man of gigantic frame, and he knew that not only his own life, but that of his little son, would be taken on the spot. He called to the boy to fly, while he continued to plunge his knife into the bosom of his prostrate adversary. The rest of the party leveled their rifles, and the victor shouted, with an air of triumph, ‘ Do your worst! I have sacrificed another pale-face to the spirits of my fathers.” They fired, and he fell dead across the body of the unfortunate Tumlinson. The poor boy fell also. He had sprung forward some distance when his father was shot, and was running in the zig-zag manner taught the savages in their youth, by which they avoid the aim of the best marks- men; but a chance ball hit him, and he dropped dead in the path.” The following exploit, as enacted by one of “ Marion's men,” was worthy to have been enacted by Richard of the Lion Heart, and reminds us of the incident when that hero of the Crusades dashed up singly before the army of Saladin, and, by the simple shaking of his spear, held in check the Mohammedan hosts. Colonel Watson, when in pursuit of Marion, came up with his guard at Wiboo swamp, and im- mediately commenced the attack. Horry, who commanded the cavalry, was thrown back in disorder, and the enemy’s horse were following up the advantage, pressing closely upon the Whigs as they were crossing the narrow causeway, when Gavin James, a man of gigantic frame, and mounted on a powerful horse, whirled in front of the advancing columh, and discharged his musket, shooting the first man dead. In 145 Senna RAEI nae ee seg RR ar eee Sere Seve ere I 14 ‘TALES AND TRADITIONS. an instant a volley blazed from the approaching foe, but, won- derful to state, not a shot took effect. A.dragoon ryshed forward, when he was instantly transfixed by the bayonet in the hand of James; another shared the same fate, and fell beside his companion. Awed by a single adversary, the whole column halted, when, animated by such signal daring, the cavalry of Marion turned upon the enemy, charging with such impetuosity as to scatter the royalists before them. The name of Colonel Gavin James ought to be enshrined along with that of Arnold Von Winkelreid, who “ (Made) way for Liberty, and died,” though our hero did not fall a martyr to his daring. But he showed that the spirit of the martyr was there; and it was only by an almost miracle that he escaped from immediate death. There are other anecdotes related of this same intrepid officer. After the fall of Charleston, the British commander in South Carolina issued a proclamation, granting protection to all those of the rebels who would lay down their arms and refrain from the further levying of war on his majesty. The apparently hopeless condition of the cause, with the entire want ‘of an organized force for resistance, induced many worthy citizens to avail themselves of England’s offered pro- tection. Scarcely had they done this, when another procla- mation appeared, to the effect that they were not only to submit to English authority, but to take up arms in support of the royal cause. This proceeding, looked upon by the people as an infamous trap, aroused their indignation. The residents of one district, while about to avail themselves of the first proclamation, had the second one placed before them. At a loss to understand such conflicting offers, they dispatched a delegate to the nearest British authority, to have the mat- ter explained. Major James was chosen as this delegate. He repaired to Georgetown, the nearest British post, which was then under the command of one Captain Ardesoif. hy SAVED BY A SPIDER’S WEB. 47 hearing the tread of footsteps. ‘They approached, and ina few moments, two or three savages were actually seated upon the log in consultation. He heard the bullets rattle loosely in their pouches. They even looked into the hollow trunk, sus- pecting he might be there; but the examination must have been very casual, as they discovered no traces of his presence. The object of their search, however, in after life, attributed his escape to the labors of a busy spider, which, after he had crawled into the log, had been industriously engaged in weay- ing a web over the entrance. Perceiving this, the savages of course supposed that the fugitive could not have entered there. After remaining in his place of concealment as long as nature could endure the confinement, Hopkins crept forth, wandering in the wilderness without food until he was on the point of famishing. In this situation, knowing that he could but die, he cautiously stole down into the valley again, whence, five days before, he had fled. All was desolation there. The crops were destroyed, the cattle gone, and the smoldering . brands and embers were all that remained of the houses. The Indians had retired, and the stillness of death prevailed. He roamed about for hours, in search of something to satisfy the cravings of nature, fording or swimming the river twice in his search. At length he discovered the carcass of a wild turkey, shot on the morning of the massacre, but which had been left in the flight. He quickly stripped the bird of his feathers, although it had become somewhat offensive from lying in the sun, dressed it and washed it in the river, and. the first meal-he made therefrom was ever afterward pro- nounced the sweetest of his life. Upon the strength of this turkey, with such roots and herbs as he could gather in the way, he traveled until, after incredible hardships he was obliged to encounter—his clothes being torn from his limbs in the thickets, and his body badly lacerated—he once more found himself among the dwellings of civilized men.” The incident of the spider, in this little story, reminds us of the similar service which one of those insects did for a great historical personage who hid in a cave from his 179 48 TALES AND TRADITIONS. enemies. “Acat may look at a king,” and a spider may save his life. On so slender a thread does fate sometimes hang great events. No doubt Noah Hopkins took, ever after, a tender interest in those curious and cunning little animals whose airy and marvelous creations are such a plague to good housewives — hanging their fanciful draperies and festoons just where they are not wanted; and should he have been questioned as to the best sauce for roast turkey, wild, he would have answered, “ Five days’ fasting and fright, and to swim a river twice before you find your bird, and to cook it yourself before you eat it—that’s the best sauce for wild turkey.” HAMILTON SAVING HIS CLOTH. No State in the Union furnished more men, or exhibited a greater amount of patriotism among its citizens during the revolutionary contest, than the little State of Connecticut. Her hardy sons were so thoroughly imbued with the princi- ples for which they were contending, when the tocsin sounded at Lexington, that no call was necessary to bring her militia into the field, but with an impulse of patriotic ardor which set a bright example to her sister States, they hastened by platoons, companies and regiments to the assistance of their friends, determined to do their share toward: humbling the proud arrogance and defeating the machinations of the British Governor. Throughout the war, Connecticut stood shoulder to shoulder with her confederates, and shed her choicest blood in defense of the glorious cause of Liberty. _ And, although she did not suffer in the same ratio with other States, yet New London, Norwalk, Fairfield and Danbury, attest the implacable vengeance with which she was visited. The burning of the town of Danbury was an-act of savage barbarity, so utterly uncalled for, as to stamp the name of 180 ¢ se) B - ° 5 m os =A oR e Mm CQ 5 pe} > ~she DESTRUCTION OF DANBURY. 51 Tryon, the leader of that and other similar expeditions, with an ignominy which sinks it beneath the level of a common marauder and midnight robber. Gladly would Britons efface the record of his deeds from the history of the contest. But the Muse has registered upon her immutable tablets the shame- ful catalogue, and future generations of Americans, as they read the disgraceful record, shall rise up and call him ac- cursed. It was a warm, sunny day in April, 1777, when Tryon, at the head of two thousand British troops, landed at the mouth of the Saugatuck river, in the immediate vicinity of the towns of Norwalk and Fairfield, and took up his march for Danbury, which he reached about noon of the next day. The ostensible object of the expedition was the destruction of public stores, which had been collected at Danbury ; but the employment of such a man as Tryon to command the troops, was evidence that something more than a few barrels of pork and flour was contemplated. Sir William Howe disavowed the acts of Tryon, but he knew well enough the character of the man, and the most impartial judge would certainly condemn him as accessory before the fact. The history of the Governor’s tyranny and oppression at the South was too recent, and his antecedents too notorious, not to have warned Sir William that a worse man could not have been sent on such a foray, than the whilom Governor of North Carolina. The good people of Danbury were not warned of the ap- proach of an enemy until the troops were within a few miles of the place. Then every thing was confusion and alarm. The citizens, knowing the tender mercies of guch a band of marauders as was coming upon them, hastened to gather up their most valuable effects, and flee to a place of safety. All was hurry and disorder. Here was a husband seeking his wife, a mother her children; the aged, the sick and the infirm, craving aid and assistance to escape from the coming enemy, and, in escaping, to save something from the wreck which they felt sure would be the result. In the endeavor to do much, however, nothing was accomplished, and when the 183 na eee ee * a ee Soo REE ee eee ee eee 52 TALES AND TRADITIONS. a troops entered the town, few were better prepared to leave than they were an hour previous, when they had first received the alarm. ° Among the citizens who had desired to depart, was an old and eccentric individual named Hamilton, who, although noted for his detestation, of every thing English, was yet too old to take any part in the effort to defend the town. He had sad- dled his old black mare, which had been his property for no one knew how many years, and which was quite surprised at the bustle and confusion around her, and was riding hither and thither through the crowd of neighbors and friends, actu- ally doing more harm than good in his endeavors to aid them in getting off. He had first seen his own family depart, but had delayed himself, thinking to be of service to others who had not the same facilities as he enjoyed. Now, when the troops of the enemy were in the immediate vicinity, and it behooved all who were about to leave to do so at once, Ham- ilton bethought him of a piece of cloth, of home manufacture, which he had a few days before left at a clothier’s, at the lower end of the town, anticipating, no doubt, anew suit of apparel for the coming Sabbath morning. A”piéce of cloth large enough to cut a suit from, was, in those days, a matter of some consequence, and not to be disregarded ; particularly when it was the handiwork of one’s wife or daughters. It is not to be wondered at, therefore, that Hamilton felt dissatis- fied at the idea of leaving this particular piece to fall a prey to the marauding Britons, and that after some deliberation— considering the immediate proximity of the danger—he should make up his mind to save it if possible. A few minutes’ ride brought him to the store of the tailor, which he found de- serted, like the rest of the houses in its neighborhood. He was fortunate enough to find his piece without much difficulty, and attached it to the crupper of his saddle, after the manner of a dragoon’s roll. Just as he mounted, he heard the clatter of hoofs, and before he had settled himself in his saddle, a squad of British light-horsemen dashed around the corner in his immediate vicinity. There was no time for hesitation, 184 * ~~ , 4 / one abe ae aa. * , 7~ one - aie yp - HAMILTON’S RACE WITH THE TROOPERS. 53 and Hamilton whipped up his animal with a switch that he carried in lieu of a whip, and made off with all possible speed. -His hurry, and the roll on his saddle, attracting the attention of the dragoons, three of them started in pursuit of the ven- erable horseman and his scarcely less venerable Rosinante. And now commenced a retreat and pursuit, which was in the highest degree ludicrous. Through the streets they tore along, regardless of men, women, children, ducks and dogs, and every other impediment, toward the bridge, at the upper end of the town. The dragoons were immensely amused at the adventure, and enjoyed the efforts of the pursued to es- cape them with infinite zest. It was not to be expected that such an unequal race could be lasting, and before the veteran had passed over one-half the space between the clothier’s and the bridge, the troopers were within arm’s length of him, shouting, “Stop, old daddy, stop! We'll have you.” “ Not yet, you wont ;” and just as the sword was raised, and the blow about to descend upon his unprotected head, the cloth, by some means, became detached—or partially so—and flut- tering in the wind, so startled the foremost dragoon’s horse as to cause him to swerve, and entirely to disconcert his aim. This so amused his comrade, (one had been attracted from the chase by plunder,) as to disconcert him also, and our hero thus gained a rod or two in advance. The pursuit was con- tinued, however, but again and again, as they were about to strike, the cloth was in the way, and warded off the impend- ing blow. In this way the party reached the bridge, where the dragoons made a dash to cut off the old man, but a blow from his switch infused renewed vigor into his pony, and he succeeded in reaching it first, and as he did so, the cloth blew full into the face of the leading dragoon’s horse, causing him to rear and plunge in such a manner as to nearly throw the rider, and as his comrade stopped to his relief, the retreating American gained so much start as to induce them to give up the chase, and Hamilton and his cloth escaped. The suit which that cloth made, was ever after an object of the utmost veneration to the old man. , 185 ape neennoant = Pe mee es, a : if f i i 54 There were but fifty Continental soldiers, and one hundred militia, in Danbury at the time it was attacked. These re- treated, as did most of the inhabitants, excepting such as were left to take care of the sick and aged. Four men, intoxicated, it is said, fired upon the British from the windows of a large house. The soldiers rushed in, drove them into the cellar, set fire to the house, and left them to perish ‘in the flames. There was a great quantity of stores of all kinds in the village, and no vehicles to convey them to the British ships. The work of destruction commenced. ‘The soldiers made free with the liquors found in abundance ; and throughout the greater part of the night there was revel, drunkenness, blasphemy and devastation. Tryon, full of anxiety, and aware that the coun- try was rising, ordered a retreat before daylight, setting fire to the magazines to complete the destruction of the stores. The flames spread to the other edifices, and almost the whole village was soon ina blaze. The darkness of a rainy night made the conflagration more balefully apparent throughout the country. This same infamous Tryon, in July of the succeeding year, (1778,) led another disgraceful attack upon New Haven and Fairfield, where he repeated the scenes which had occurred in Danbury. At New Haven several private houses were plundered, but the town was not burned. They next pro- ceeded to Fairfield ; where, meeting with greater resistance, they thought the moment arrived for a wholesome example of severity. Accordingly, they not only ravaged and de- stroyed the public stores, and the shipping in the harbor, but laid the town itself in ashes. The sight of their homes laid desolate and their dwellings wrapped in flames, only served to exasperate the inhabitants, and produce a more determined opposition to the progress of the destroyers ; whereupon, the ruthless rayages of the latter increased as they advanced. At Norwalk, where they landed on the 11th of July, they burnt one hundred and thirty dwellings, eighty-seven barns, twenty- two store-houses, seventeen shops, four mills, two places of worship, and five vessels whith were in the harbor. All this 186 TALES AND TRADITIONS. ¥ GOING TO MILL WITHOUT A PASS. 55 was private property, and the loss fell on individuals engaged in the ordinary avocations of life. These acts of devastation “were accompanied by atrocities, inevitable where the brutal passions of the soldiery are aroused. How few of us, when we speak of “the days that tried men’s souls,” realize the sufferings and privations which our ancestors endured during that Revolutionary struggle! What few personal reminiscences of those days survive ought to be carefully preserved. Would there were more of them! The following interesting narrative relates to that same momentous year of 1777, and is laid in Philadelphia, of which Lord Howe then had possession. The situation of the Americans, who could not follow their beloved commander, was truly dis- tressing, subject to the everyday insults of oppressive foes. Bound to pay obedience to laws predicated on the momentary power of a proud and vindictive commander, it can not be vividly enough described. To obtain the common necessaries of life, particularly flour, they had to go as far as Bristol, a distance of eighteen or twenty miles; and even this indulg- ence was not granted them until a pass was procured from Lord Howe, as guards Were placed along Vine street, extend- ing from the Delaware to the Schuylkill, forming a complete barrier; beyond these, through the woods’ extending as far as Frankfort, were stationed the picket guards—thus render- ing it almost impossible to reach Bristol mills without a pass. The American forces were then encamped at Valley Forge, suffering from nakedness, hunger, and the inclemency of the season. The British, rolling in plenty, spent their days in feasting, their nights in balls, riot and dissipation; thus rest- ing in supposed security while the American chief was plan- ning their final extirpation. A poor woman, with six small children, whose husband was at Valley Forge, had made fre- quent applications for a pass. “ Engagements” rendered it impossible for her cruel tormentors to give her one. Rendered desperate from disappointment, and by the cries of her chil- dren, she started alone, and without a pass, and by good luck eluded the guards and reached Bristol. 187 ag 56 TALES AND TRADITIONS. About this time, there were six brothers of the name of Doale, renowned for many acts of heroic bravery, but which were in the character of marauders rather than soldiers, They were men full six feet high, stout and active, a fearless intrepidity characterizing their deeds, and they always suc- ceeded in making their escape. A marked partiality to the Americans rendered them obnoxious to the British, and al- rays welcome to the former, to whom they conveyed what information they could glean in their adventures. Our adventurous female, having procured her flour in a pillow-case, holding about twenty pounds, was returning with a light heart to her anxious and lonely babes. She had passed the picket guards at Frankford, and was just entering the woods a little this side, when a tall, stout man, stepped from behind a tree, and putting a letter in her hand, requested her to read it. She grasped with eager joy the letter, bearing the character of her husband’s handwriting, After a pause, he said, “ Your husband is well, madam, and requested me to say, that in a short time he will be with you; money is a scarce article among us—I mean among them; but on account of your husband’s partiality to the cause of liberty, I am wil- ling to become his banker.” So saying, he handed her a piece of money. ‘My means, madam, are adequate, or I would not be thus lavish,” seeing she was about to refuse it. “You said, sir, my husband would see me, shortly; how do you know that which seems so impossible? and how did you know me, who never—” “ Hush, madam, we are now approaching the British guard; suffice it to say, the American commander has that in his head, which, like an earthquake, will shake the whole Amer- ican continent, and expunge all these miscreants; but, hark! take the road to the left—farewell.” So saying, he departed. She gave one look, but vacancy filled the spot where he stood. With slow and cautious steps she approached Vine street. Already, in imagination, the fire burned beneath her bread, when the awful word, “halt!” struck her to the soul. She started, and found herself in the custody of a British sentinel. _ 488 ian STOPPED BY THE GUARD. 57 “ Your pass, woman.” “T have none, sir; my children are—” “ Blast the rebel crew! why do you breed enemies to yout king? This flour is mine—off, woman, and die with your babes.” A groan was her only answer. The ruffian was about de- parting, when the former messenger appeared—his whole demeanor was changed; humble simplicity marked his gait —he approached the guard with a seeming fearfulness, and begged him in a suppliant voice, to give the poor woman her flour. “Fool! idiot!” exclaimed the guard, “ who are you? See you yonder guard-house ? If you interfere here, that shall be your quarters.” “‘ May be so, sir; but won’t you give the poor woman the means of supporting her little family one week longer? Recol- lect the distance she has walked, the weight of the bag, and recollect—” ‘“‘Humph! Why bid me recollect ? You plead in vain; be- gone, or I'll seize you as a spy.” “You won’t give the poor woman her flour ?” emer “Then, by my country’s faith and hopes of freedom, you shall!” and with a powerful arm he seized the guard by the throat, and hurled him to the ground. “Run, madam, run! See, the guard-house is alive! Secure your flour, pass Vine street, and you are safe.” ’T'was done. The guard made an attempt to rise, when the stranger drew a pistol and shot him dead. The unfortunate man gazed around him with fearless intre- pidity. There was but one way of escape,%nd that through the woods. Seizing the dead man’s musket, he started like a deer, pursued by the hounds. “Shoot him down! Shoot him down!” was echoed from one line to another. The des- perado was soon lost in the woods, and a general search com- menced. The object of their pursuit, in the mean time, flew like lightning ; the main guard was left behind, but the whole 189 ia i f 58 picket line would soon be alarmed. One course alone pre- sented itself, and that was to mount his horse, which was concealed among the bushes, and gallop down to the Dela- ware; a boat was already there for him. The thought was no sooner suggested than it was put into execution. He mounted his horse, and, eluding the alarmed eperds, had nearly reached the Delaware. Here he found himself headed and hemmed in by at least fifty exasperated soldiers. One sprung from behind a tree, and demanded immediate surrender. ‘’Tis useless to hesi- tate—you are now in our possession.” “Son of a slave! slave of a king! how dare yow gall a freeman a prisoner? Surrender yourself—a Doale never sur- renders. Away, or die!” and he attempted to pass. The guard leveled his gun, but the ball of Doale’s pistol had been swifter than his own. ¢ . ’ ° ; mn - His case was now truly desperate. Benind him was the whole line of guards; on the north of him the Frankford pickets, and on the left of him the city of Philadelphia, filled with British troops. One way, and only one, presented itself, and that was to cross the river. He knew his horse; he plunged in—a shout succeeded, and ere he reached half the distance, twenty armed boats were in swift pursuit. His noble horse dashed through the Delaware ; his master spurred him on with double inter- est, while the balls whistled around him. The tide was run- ning down, and when he reached the Jersey shore, he found himself immediately opposite the old slip at Market street. On reaching the shore, he turned round, took out a pistol, and, with steady aim, fired at the first boat; a man fell over the side, and sunk to*rise no more. He then disappeared in the wood. The angry, harassed, and disappointed pursuers gave one look, one curse, and returned to the Pennsylvania shore, fully believing that, if he was not the Devil, he was at least one of his principal agents. Charles Morgan was a shrewd private of the Jersey » 190 TALES AND TRADITIONS. + ~. CHARLES MORGAN. _ 59 brigade, a good soldier, and had attracted the notice of the Marquis de Lafayette. In the course of the movements on the James river, the marquis was anxious to procure exact information of the force under Cornwallis, and, if possible, to penetrate his lordship’s designs. He considered Charles a proper agent for the accomplishment of his purposes, and proposed to him to enter the British camp in *the character of a deserter, but in reality as a spy. Charles undertook the perilous enterprise, merely stipulating that, if he were detected, the marquis should cause it to be inserted in the Jersey newspapers that be was acting under the orders of his commanding officer. - The pretended deserter entered the British lines, and was condueted into the presence of Cornwallis, On being ques- tioned as to his motives for desertion, he replied that he had been with the American army from the beginning of the war, and that while under General Washington he was satisfied ; but that now they had put him under a Frenchman he did not like it.” Upon this excuse he was received without sus- picion, and was punctual in discharging his duties as a sol- dier, while carefully observing every thing which passed. One day, while on duty with his comrades, Cornwallis, who was in close conference with some of his officers, called to him and asked, “‘ How long will it take the marquis to cross James river ?” “'Three hours, my lord.” | “Three hours!” exclaimed his lordship. ‘ Will it not take three days ?” ““ No, my lord,” said Charles, “the marquis has so many boats—each boat will carry so many men—and if your lord- ship will calculate, you will find that he can cross in three hours.” Turning to his officers, the earl said, in the hearing of the American, “ The scheme will not do.” Charles now resolved to abandon his new friends ; and for ‘that purpose plied his comrades with grog until they were all in high spirits. He then began to complain of the wants in the British camp, extolled the plentiful provision enjoyed 191 60 TALES AND TRADITIONS. " by the Americans, and concluded by proposing to them to desert. They agreed to accompany him, leaving it to him to manage the sentinels. To the first he offered, in-a very friendly manner, a draught of rum from his canteen; but, while the soldier was drinking, Charles seized his arms, and then proposed to him to desert with them, which he did through necessity. The second sentinel was served in the same way; and Charles hastened to the American camp at the head of seven British deserters. On presenting himself be- fore his employer the marquis exclaimed, ‘“‘ Ah, Charles, have you got back ?” “Yes, sir,” was the answer, “and have brought seven more with me.” The marquis offered him money, but he de- clined accepting it, and only desired to have his gun again ; the marquis then proposed to raise him to the rank of corpo- ral or sergeant, but Charles’ reply was, “I will not have any promotion; I have abilities for a common soldier, and have a good character; should I be promoted, my abilities may not answer, and I may lose my character.” He, however, generously requested for his fellow-soldiers, who were not so well supplied with stockings, shoes and clothing as himself, the marquis’ interference to procure a supply of their wants. 192