The Valley Manuscript
Part I
[The following is taken from the
Land We Love, edited by Gen. D. H. Hill, of date January, 1869,
and was prepared by Fannie Fielding, of Norfolk, VA, who prefaces it
with the following words: “From a collection of archives known in
our household by the above title from which I have been making
extracts.” It is now re-published by request in this paper and will
appear in three parts.]
1 The Common Place Book of Margaret
Lewis nee Lynn, of Loch Lynn Scotland, being a rest of my soul’s
repose in the troublous times which hath befallen. Here nothing
burthening myself with style or date, I can retreat when toil and
turmoil of the day be past, speaking as into a faithful ear some of
my woman’s sorrow. So shall I not add to their weight who have,
Heaven knows enough of woe to bear for themselves.
Bidding farewell to the bonny loch and
knowes of Lynn, though along with the gallant Huguenot I had taken
from my husband, caused surely a woman’s grief to my heart, nay,
something like a child’s I might say. Well, so be it,--Loch Lynn and
its rock-crowned summit and purple heather are all past by now, like
as when one goes on a journey and beareth away in memory only,
impression of the landscape. The crags to be sure had in them
nothing loving, but that they grew by home and for the blue heather,
the eyes of my two boys, Andrew and William, and their sweet sister
Alice, glad me more than acres of such. Poor Thomas, my oldest born!
he hath a defect in his sight, but for all this he looks into his
mother’s heart deep down enough, leaving there, which is better than
the shade of blue heather,--sunshine. He is a noble lad. We have
worse trouble come upon us now, I say, than that of a young wench
leaving her mother’s fire-side. My poor John is sorely belabored in
soul with the grievous malice of this same Lord of Clonmithgairn.
The contentious noble hath said to the
good Dean of Ulster, a few nights ago, how that my husband’s
leasehold on the estate of Clonmithgairn and Dundery should be
revoked at next assizes or (and he took a vile oath!) blood should
be spilt between the contenders. My husband has amassed much means,
but he does not choose (as what man of spirit would?) to be driven
to and fro in the matter of his rightful possession. So I play with
my children and for John I have words cherry and careless-like, but
faithful Nora, she sees it is not in my heart. She essays
compassionate sentences and looks for me, and I tell her many
troubles, yet it is a foe to order and household authority when the
heads thereof use to confiding greatly in even the best servants.
Now, when a woman’s tongue must not wag, some corresponding member
must take its place, here, then comes in this book of mine which at
one time served John Lewis for his tenantry accounts. In this year
of Grace, 1730, what things are come to pass. Blessed Christ pardon
the souls of such wicked-minded men as the last Lord’s Day would so
rush to arms and blood, making havoc and murder and sacrifice to
evil passion.
I can no more, now take this my book,
my companion, to the nook of a private withdrawing room in Clonnell
Castle. Drawing there the crimson dark curtains, shutting out the
world and my noisy little ones, I liked that retirement where I
could read, or pray, or talk to myself in writing. My home lies in
ashes, but, far worse, ashes lie on my heart too. My best beloved
John is a fugitive from the law and for me, I cannot say why my poor
sight was not blasted by what it four days since beheld. My husband
had his family around him, as is the custom when we go not to
evening service (indeed our chaplain was at home sick in bed),
expounding for the soul’s health of children and servants, texts of
Holy Scripture. Edward, poor man! begged the reading should go on in
the round tower room where he lay. Months he had been ailing, yet
being somewhat on the mend then, he had come with his wife and
infants to his brother’s house. Strange to say as the passage, “are
you come out as against a thief with swords and staves?” passed
John’s lips a rude shouting was heard without. On looking to the
direction of the noise, we perceived the drunken Lord of
Clonmithgairn leading an armed force of ruffian clans. This to eject
John Lewis from his rightful domains. The envious heart could not
bear the sight of his neighbors prosperity.
Dark was the shadow upon Clonmell that
evening. My husband armed himself like a man, rallied our domestics
around him and even poor, puny Edward girt on his arms right
speedily. Poor soul? he had as well not, may be better, for he was
the first victim of the ferocious raid. Ere he come three steps one
of the marauders cried out: “Where will that white pigeon be going?”
Then shot him through the head. He fell stark dead. Then John looked
like an enraged tiger surely. He wielded right and left when lo!
first the obnoxious, noble then his favorite steward were
dispatched. Finally our men succeeded in driving off the interlopers
but some of our best were slain. More than this a very great sorrow
which we had not looked for greeted us as the invaders dispersed in
the slain and trampled body of poor little Eubank, Edward’s oldest
son. He was only eight years old. How he came among them we could
not tell. His green tunic was stained with blood and tramping feet,
and his white marble face looked like a sculptured cherub, but on
these nor the portly, prostrate form of his father must we stay to
anger our eyes.
Clonmithgairn was a man of power and
weight and we must hurry away from the bloody scene of that brief,
bloody battle. I and my little ones abide here (Dunraven) with good
friends, while he, my best beloved of all, roameth I don’t know
where. Servants have buried our dead long before this time, while I
sit weeping tears from different fountains. Of bitterest affliction
for John, dear man!-- of gloom enough for Edward’s double bereft
widow, and the kin couples darkening the memory of our once house
and home; tears of thankfulness that he, my life was spared,--and
may sweet Christ forgive me!--tears of joy that the prosecutor, the
mover of the Devil’s work, fell in his evil undertaking. Last night
about sun-setting, Lady Clara sang to her kitar a low, sweet
song,--this upon the south balcony.
My soul seemed to leave the body as I
listened, as though something strange should come to pass to me or
mine. By and by she sudden stopped and I recall myself. A white
kerchief was waved slowly against the dusky park wood. News from my
husband! this was to be his signal. Lady Clara and I started off in
the direction whence the sign had come, but John, poor soul! had
hidden himself then, lest the sounds he heard might be other than
friendly steps, I thought presently to speak aloud, though my heart
was up in my mouth, so he knew the voice and came to the edge of the
wood again. We three sat talking as long as we dared, and now I know
my destiny and he is gone. He has been to Portugal, so he tells, but
likes it not much for living. The Virginia wilds hold out a safe
asylum for our oppressed house and thither we sail at once.
The changed life we lead there is
nothing to think of; safety from injustice, if we shall find it,
covers all the ground. So far seeing the way clear, the prospect
darkens now with doubt and fear lest some unknown evil overtake and
intercept or prevent our voyage. That God is better than our fears
is truly said. I look up at the top of my page and see what I last
wrote there in the dear land I shall never see again, and I
say--Evil Heart--why can we not trust more! Not only are we safe
come hither, but John Lewis standeth clear before all the world of
the death of Charles of Clonmithgairn. My Lord Finnegal hath shown
himself a good friend, and one worthy to be entrusted with the
concerns of any proper man. When the right circumstances of the
affray were made known according to the written statement my husband
placed in his hands, witnesses whereto were at last found and
proved. His Majesty sent full and free pardon and also generous
patents, grants of land in this Eden Valley of Virginia.
John Mackey who has come all this way
with us, gives good aid in erecting our house, which I have some
impatience to see done. This log cabin may do in times of peace, but
should these savages change their policy of amity and good-will, it
will go evil if we have not wherewithal to meet them. It has been
enough for me ever since, to hear John Salling tell at Williamsburg,
when first we came to this country, how these people did ferociously
entreat such as fell into their power. John Lewis was more taken
with the newly-freed captive’s account of the land in this part, the
beauty and abundance of which has not yet been told, to say true.
The broad prairie before our door at the front looks like miles and
miles of gaudy carpeting, with its vendure of flowers. Our cow,
Snow-drop, as the children call her, is fastened each day on the
meadow border by a tether many a fathom long. They drive her in when
required for the use of Charles--our New World baby-- and her white
feet are continually dyed red with wild strawberries.
The new settlement begins to look
quite lively now, with the gardens around the cabins, the patches of
grain and all. About thirty of our tenatry have clung to us through
evil and through good report, and these are for the most part able
and efficient work people. Joe Naseby hath a neat rail to his garden
ground and some sort of ornament structure on the top of his house
to entice the wild pigeon--a cupola like. When our grey stone
dwelling is done I shall feel something like or namentation it may
be, and for my children’s sake, and especially Alice, I shall like
to make things look enticing. I think people get beauty of soul with
growing up among pretty things, particularly girls, but all, indeed,
should have their home beautified so that they may love to say in it
or come to it as the case may be. The holy Pascol said not much of
any more worth than these words: “Most of the evil of this world
grows out of peoples discontent to stay at home.” That is true. Now
how shall they love home if home is not made lovely? Here then we
have the key to our families destiny. I will not wait for the new
house for this. I will take Andrew, William, and Alice,--Thomas has
gone hunting with his father and John Mackey, and plant, this day,
some of the prairie roses to run beside our door and on the roof.
Oroon-ah came by while the children
and I set the plants by our cottage. He shook his head, “Wrong” he
said, “the Great Spirit put the herbs where he wanted um;” and when
Alice brought him a bowl of clabber he turned away in great disgust,
the while uttering--”Rotten, no good!” The child gets used to him
and the other Indians better than I ever shall. She has many friends
among them. as have the boys too, and they, call her a sweet name--
“White Dove”--but for all that they give me the same feeling as did
those painted Mountebanks of the Christmas festivities at Darley. I
always am startled when one of them appears before me. John Mackey
is like many others. He is good in giving help to any outside of
home. I think, on the contrary, all good offices should begin and
spend their best strength there. John Lewis prospered with the
clearing, his crops and his building, and John Mackey helps him or
anybody else who will hunt with him now and then, but he lays up
nothing for himself, and his household might gather many comforts
around if he would act different.
My husband hath located one hundred
thousand acres of good land, but when he goes out to explore and
choose what is rich and the best, poor Mackey will go along to
buffalo hunt. John said to me a Thursday, “Peg”,--he always calls me
Peg after dinner, yet I should say that, though he gets his bowl of
toddy for dinner, a more sober man is not in the Old Dominion, said
he--”Mackey has laid up not a penny since he came to the
settlement.” Indeed I was very sure he had not. Well, if he lives at
this gait, I suppose the Indian heaven will be good enough for him
hereafter,--broad hunting grounds and plenty of deer and buffalo.
Our town of Staunton goes finely on, thanks to John Lewis’
enterprise and energy. It shall descend to his posterity that he has
builded the first town in the Valley. It is about four miles from
our place of Beverly Masson here, which some call Fort Lewis.
Un-gee-wah-wah and his tribe we find are not friendly to us, but
still, if they make farther demonstration, (they captured three of
our men yesterday, who made them drunk and then got away) we shall
be able to hold our own against them. Our fort is formed of
blockhouses, stockades, and the cabins. The outside walls are ten to
twelve feet high. The block-houses are built at the angles of the
fort and project full two feet beyond the outer walls of the cabins
and stockades. The upper stories of our houses are eighteen inches
larger in dimension, every way, than the story below, an opening
being left at the commencement of the second story to prevent the
lodgement of the enemy under the walls. We have port-holes in all,
and the savages having no artillery, we should stand our ground if
they offered assault.
Oroon-ah, or Tiger King’s son, a lad
of sixteen, has crowned my Alice with a prairie rose wreath--Queen
of White Doves, he calls her, and has given her a fawn which has
become domestic now. I did not like to hear Thomas say last
night--he is older than Omayah--suppose sister Alice should grow up
and marry Omayah. Youth is romantic and thinks strange thoughts. I
hope she may have none such. Then I set me to thinking--the child is
fourteen years old in May, and that just two years younger that I
was when I became a married woman. The reflection gave me pain, but
I will think of it more. There is nothing gained by shunning the
fixed truth, whatever it be. Look god’s fact in the face, whether
agreeable or not. Its like going up to a white object in the
haunting dark, taking hold of it and proving it no ghost.
__________________ A terrible accident occurred at the Academy of
Music, Norfolk, Saturday night, which was not discovered until
Monday. James Hatch, a young man who is employed on the stage, fell
from the flies after the close of the performance Saturday night and
his neck was broken. He was not seen by his fellow-workmen. During
the time from Saturday night until Monday morning the rats had
gnawed his head and face in a horrible manner. ______________ Scott
Bishop, a negro, who murdered Mr. Hugh Hammock in Nottaway county
some days ago, was lynched Monday morning at 1 o’clock by a mob of
200 men one mile west of Blackstone. Bishop’s guards, with hopes of
saving his neck, let him down out of a second-story window by means
of a rope, and unknown to the excited crowd stole off to the woods
with him, where he was afterwards found by the mob. He had
previously admitted his guilt.
The Valley Manuscript - Part II
Last spring, and this is 1737 now,
John Lewis visited the death of Government, Williamsburg, met there
one Burden, but lately come over as agent for Lord Thomas Fairfax.
John was so pleased with his company and he with the accounts of
this fertile land that he must needs come back with him and explore
and hunt. This was a gala time for John Mackey, but Burden was a
more provident hunter than he. My sons took in the chase, a young
buffalo calf, which the stranger much affected and it was given to
him. This was towards the end of his stay, for he made a pleasant
inmate of our home several months. He took the rude animal and made
it a present to the most worshipful Governor Gooch, who never having
seen so comical a monster in the Lower Virginia, did promptly favor
the donor by entering upon his official book full authority to
Benjamin Burden for locating 500,000 acres of land nigh to the James
River and Shenandoah waters; this on condition he should, within ten
years, settle at the least one hundred families within the limits.
The Presbyterians of North Ireland, Scotland, and adjacent portions
of England do abide at home uneasily, and they will come freely, to
Burden’s bidding for the peopling of this new settlement. While our
friends in lower Virginia much carouse and keep up the customs of
the old country, we beyond the mountains are the most part a sober
set. So much the more does our departure from our usual way of doing
make a great event among us.
John Salling, one of the first
explorers of this region, hath his land about fifty miles off, down
in the forks of James. A young nephew living with him has seen and
admired and made proposals of marriage to Joe Naseby’s
grand-daughter. The girl has sometime said him Nay, saying it a poor
comfort one will find in a hunter’s home,--so playing on the word,
for her name is Comfort,--but he is a well-looking lad enough, so
turning his perseverance to some account in his favor, they have
been married. Thomas Salling brought many attendants to his wedding
all riding bare-backed, and clad in raw hide. I laughed to see the
nuptial procession approach, and said to my husband,--and our
Chaplin,--the riders seemed to my eyes something as did the Spanish
equestrians to the unsophisticated Mexicans,--as though man and
horse formed all one animal.
It is a rare thing, indeed in any of
the section if there be a merry-making without its attendant work.
Weddings form nearly the only exception. Sometimes the settlers come
together to make arrangements for mutual safety against the Indians,
for we have had our own trouble with them from time to time,
sometimes for reaping, building a cabin, and so on, when they will
have a repast of bear’s meat, buffalo-steak or venison, topping off
with a dance and games. On this wedding occasion it was an odd array
of toilettes. Linsey and brocade mingled grotesquely. Some old world
relics placed beside the ornaments newly picked up here produced a
mingled effect of savage life and civilization struggling with one
another. I had given Comfort, who is a much smaller woman than I,
the yellow brocade I wore the day the surveyers located the town,
which was to me an unlucky day. No sooner had we set dinner than Mr.
Parks, who was one of them, growing animated in his talk, made a
gesture which over-set the gravy-boat upon my lap. I laughed it off
right well, though my heart was ill at ease with thinking I had no
French chalk to remove the soil, but then a woman early learns such
lessons of self command. I forgive Mr. Parks, heartily and do not
even which, while he gives us such a racy paper,1 that any one may
so misplace his ink as to soil his hose or breeches. I hope the men
will be going down in a few weeks, and fetch another [paper].
It is a common practice now to make
whiskey, an intoxicating drink, from the Indian corn, and a part of
the wedding entertainment is a race for a bottle of this stuff. When
the guests are approaching the house of the bride, two of the young
men most intrepid in horsemanship, are singled out to run for the
bottle. The victor in the race is met at the door by some one of the
family who confers the prize. He hurries back to the cavalcade who
are halting about a mile off, and gives first to the bridegroom then
to the other company a dram, then after forming again they ride on
to the destined place. Our steeple-chases are no more trails of
fearlessness and good riding than these bottle races, seeing the
competitors do come through mud, mire, woods, brush, and over hill
and dale. Great mirth prevailed at Joe Naseby’s though the
wedding-table was only a rude board,--this was spread with pewter
and queensware, and covered with a substantial repast of meat and
vegetables and fowls and bread. The company sat down to it as soon
as the wedding ceremony was over, and there was little more ceremony
of any kind. I wished to take leave at dinner and bring Alice away.
I do not like her to join in these vulgar sports, but she begged,
and her father said better wait and see the end, and I felt some
curiosity myself to know what rare thing would at last befall. These
new world manners are making queer innovations among our people. At
dark I knew I was wanted here so Alice agreed to come, though Thomas
stayed daunting, and John Lewis went back after conveying us home.
He tells me that shortly after he returned, a delegation of the
young girls stole the bride away and conducted her to her bed up in
the loft. By and by some young men took away the bridegroom and
safely deposited him there also, and late in the night refreshments
of bacon, beef, and cabbage and such like things were sent up to
them; and along with all this--Black Betty, which means a bottle of
whiskey.
By this time Burden’s settlement is
fast filling up. There be some of the Established Church among them
but mostly our neighbors are Scotch Irish Presbyterians. It soundeth
like the gathering of the clans to call over the
M’Kees, M’Cues, M’Campbells, M’Clungs, M’Kowns,
Carutherses, Stewarts, Wallaces, and Lyles together with the
Browns, Prestons, Paxtons, and Grigsbys with them associated. I am
led to think of them the more now by an accident which occurred here
the last night. --About sun-down a traveler, in hot haste, tricked
out in the rough costume of the country, rode up and asked lodging.
This was readily granted, together with such entertainment as we had
at hand. He was an ungainly looking person, though setting his horse
well. An hour afterward other horsemen came clattering up and rushed
afoul of this stranger, who happened then to be without doors
looking after his horse, for there was quite a good light from the
moon. I heard from my seat by the fireside hilarious voices and the
words “Confess! confess!!’ echoed in a roughly jocose way. “We have
been seeking you for some days!” I then heard, and knew not what to
think, but this story which the pursuers told as they came into the
house, and to which the culprit did good naturedly attest,-- with
somewhat of shame, too, explained all.
When Ben Burden, the younger, came to
make deeds to such of the settlers as held cabin rights, the name
Mulhollin so often did appear as to be a matter of wonder to him. He
sat about making inquiry, and so found that Mulhollin had been a
person most efficient in deeds of enterprise among them. So far it
was well. Inquiry was now made for one Polly Mulhollin, who, to pay
her passage from Ireland, had sold herself to James Bell, who
advanced the money for her. She served his family in all honesty,
the time out, then disappeared. Now it turns out that this same
Polly Mulhollin did put on man’s gear, hunting shirt, moccasins,
etc., and go into Burden’s grant for the purpose of becoming a
landed proprietor and erected thirty cabins. The thing hath caused
much merriment wherever known. Polly with some chagrin and much
meekness, hath gotten on woman’s attire, borrowed from some one in
the settlement, and will betake herself henceforth to womanly
pursuits. Our neighbors in the valley are people of most staid
principles and habits and are very diligent in business. They
commence their Sabbath on Saturday when the sun goes down, while I
think it not a shame to have a hot turkey for my Sunday dinner.
The father of Omayah has sought the
father of White Dove, as he calls our sweet Alice, for his son’s
wife. He says that the Tiger-King’s oldest born pines to hear her
voice cooing among the wild pines about his cabin. It made me
tremble to hear him speak, almost as though I thought John Lewis
could be persuaded thereto and give away my tenderly reared lamb. He
wished to treat it as a joke, though, and seated Alice at the
spinnette, whereon I taught her to play with some skill. “That,”
said he, “is all white women are good for you don’t want
them,--bah.” “Fingers fast! fingers jump quick,” said Tiger
-King--”gut fish!” My husband still joked with him, which was,
perhaps, the better policy, but Oroonah retired discomfited, I could
see. Thomas is a man of books, albeit his sight is defective and he
makes out but poorly at hunting. His brothers are stalwart hands,
though, in all matters of strength, as indeed he is too, but they
have sleight of hunting, fishing and all employments common to the
country which he, for his intiunity hath not.
The Valley Manuscript - Part III
Heavenly Father give strength to bear
what is come upon us now. Last Monday was an holiday, and many of
the young folks and their elders did take a repast along in their
baskets and go up to see the Tower Rocks, as we call them, a few
miles off. I being a stay at home body remained with my domestic
occupations, while John Lewis did take Alice, her older brothers
also going along to join in the frolic. Omayah was there, sad and
silent, and brooding as he hath been of late. He has much attached
himself to our race, as seemed his father indeed also to do. The men
and maidens were strolling about, and my daughter went with the
young Indian across a branch of a little stream, Lewis River, to
gather Good-Luck plant, as we call it, but wo betide the luck to us
and her, poor dear lost one! No doubt it was a preconcerted signal,
but as the last rock stepping-stone was passed, a savage yell broke
forth, a band of red men sprang from the pine woods and they and
Alice and Omayah disappeared in its thickness. Our men fired and
ran, but the tangle and brush, and the deep forests which they will
never learn like the Indians, all combine to make the pursuit
passing difficult. The females of the party returned home under
escort of some of the men, for there was terror stricken to the
hearts of all by what had befallen, and my child’s father and
brothers frantic with rage and distress, dashed off after the artful
enemy. At nightfall, John Lewis came home alone, for he feared to
leave me longer, seeing what news the returning party had brought
me. I had never showed such grief before him till then,--no, not
when we made that little grave on the prairie and piled the white
rocks upon it. I was striding the floor as he surprised me, wringing
my hands, and may Heaven forgive me! almost reproaching the Most
High that he had mocked me so to hear my prayer and raise her up
from that dreadful fever when she lay a little one, tossing in my
arms,--getting ready for flight, I thought. He soothed me, poor man,
well as he could, his own heart was nigh bursting, and the morning
scarce dawned ere he set off again with more of the men to overtake
the marauders.
Alice’s brothers have never yet,
all these four days, nor the men with them, turned to come home. I
cannot work,--save what duty absolutely demands. I cannot talk only
here may I ooze out the suppressed stream of my sorrow;--carefully,
indeed, lest it take possession of me. I had thought Omayah above
the cunning artifices of his subtle race, but they may not be
trusted, as individuals or in the mass, and all of my instinctive
dread of them from the beginning was but a forerunner of what I was
destined to suffer at their hands. O, my Alice! White Dover indeed,
in a Vulture’s nest.
There is a terrible warfare going on
between our settlers and the faithless Indians. What of my gentle
child I cannot tell. Last night our fort was assailed for the second
time since this dreadful business broke out, but there was little
damage done, for they have no artillery. John Lewis and his boys are
still away on the search, but those left at the fort managed
manfully. I could feel no fear and the wild war-cries waked no
terror, for one strong feeling keepeth another at bay, and I was
already possessed with dread and anguish. Toward day, long after the
savages dispersed, our men still having one eye open for them, did
see, creeping on all-fours, from the wood and toward the settlement,
nay, (indeed, close by my house, when it had been permitted to come
so far, then Joshua Grant fired on it,) what seemed to be a stout
Indian, all painted and bedizened in full war array. The creature
groaned and fell, dropping its bow and arrows on the ground. There
all lay till some one should run up,--William Stuart first and the
victim turns out to be Greenlee’s mad sister. Some deem her mad,
that is to say, some a witch. She rideth all over the country alone,
at will, and talks strangely at times. Months she has been missing
from Burden’s grant where her brother lives, and no one could tell
aught of her. She has been a captive she says. Indeed she will be
more angel in my sight than flesh and blood, if she talks not idly
in the news she bears me. She can bring Alice, if I but give her a
swift horse. Her wound was not deep though some painful. I could not
entreat her to stay for its better healing but dressed it tenderly
as I could and gave her our best animal and prayed her speed. I can
see Nora thinks the pony is gone for no profit. The woman, does to
be sure, talk wildly of the palace under the earth where she has
hidden White Dove. She knows something of her, giving proof that far
in calling her by her Indian-bestowed name. That gives me hope,
while I ponder again upon her disconnected harangue of silver
palace-walls and pearly floors. She hath an apartment there, so she
tells, where she holds communion with the dead, and their voices
answer her. Her language is very good, and she commences talk with
so rational and plausible an air that you find yourself listening
most intently, and rapt indeed, then she becomes so excited that
mind and tongue run riot together, and a brain of only healthy
velocity cannot keep up. I write no more.
There promises to be little peace
between us and those savages ever again, scarce a day now passes but
chronicles some new depredation until they do us the justice to
acknowledge the red man with the aggressor. The Great Spirit, they
say, is on the side of the white man, and indeed our mode of
warfare, hath been destructive enough. My husband has imported the
pink clover into the country, but they will have it, it is their
wild white clover, which Lewis and his men dyed red with the blood
of the Indian. My poor Alice looks infant-like and innocent with her
bald-head. A threatened fever followed the excitement and terror of
her stealing away by the savages, and her roses in her cheeks are
scarce recovered yet. Mary Greenlee was good as her word in bringing
the lost baby to us, and for Alice, she told the strangest tale, the
which, did I not have proof better, might almost make me think the
child mad as Mary Greenlee. This latter was with the Indians in
their assault the night before her discovery of herself to us. They
had truly taken her captive, and she, the more readily to pave the
way to escape when time should offer, feigned dislike of the whites,
and that she had run to them of her own will. She painted her skin
like them and dressed like them, but the very night they brought
White Dove home a captive, her heart was stirred for her race.--She
watched her opportunity, seized her pony they had captured with her,
and taking the fear-distraught child behind her, set out at speed of
the wind, so Alice tells, and so deftly did she manage that they
were not pursued,--to be conscious of pursuit. The witch, as some
call her betook her rescued prisoner and herself to a strange great
cavern somewhere which none have since been enabled to find trace
of, then let the pony go, so the red men might follow its tracks,
nor halt at her retreat, which, indeed, it is a question if it is
known to them. I tell Alice she has become daft, what with her
capture and reading of the Arabian Nights, for she talks of the
grand marble palace under ground, of its interminable galleries, its
statues and its fountains, and withal of stars and moon peering
through its roof.
Now everyone knows no human head would
contrive anything so silly as a princely hall of this gait with any
of its roof open to the sky. It must be a weird edifice, truly, and
worthy the keeper who feedeth herself and chance guests on dried
haws and chinquapins. But none of the Lewis name can, forevermore
carp at Mary Greenlee, what she does. Blessed creature! I would walk
on hands and knees to serve her, to the latest of day my life. That
day of the last siege of our fort, while Alice was lost, as she did
demonstrate to us afterwards, she showed more wit to give us tidings
of our stolen one, than we to make good use thereof. She had shot
over the wall, fastened to her arrows the words, scratched in
berry-juice upon a piece of white rag, “The white dove is safe.” She
sought for and found the same afterwards. How this strange being
fell in with the savages again, after liberating herself, it hath
been her frank not to tell, but she comes and goes like a spirit,
and some do say, indeed, they are beginning to regard her with a
sort of superstition. My sons do great praise for their bravery in
combating the common enemy. Such we must regard them. They have been
a long time coming to this, and they pretended affront of refusing
intermarriage with them was only a pretext for what they had long
ago considered. Omayah came with downcast looks to visit us again,
after the carrying away and restoration of Alice. He protests and we
are inclined to believe, truly, he had nothing to do with the
treachery thereof. He, too was surprised, he says. He adds, that he
saw Mary Greenlee’s contriyance for getting the White Dove away, and
kept his mouth bang up (shut tight). She bears him out in this, but
we cannot tell from her evidence. At any rate I am willing and glad
to think the boy was not at fault. He has been the play-fellow of my
sons so long I cannot but feel attached to him. Tiger King professes
great penitence, but in him I have less faith. In the old I look for
more stability, in the young I look for more truth. This for red man
and white man. Omayah comes rarely. The Rev. Morgan Morgan, who hath
been chiefly instrumental in erecting the first church in this
Virginia Valley takes much interest in civilizing and christianizing
the savage race, and his labors among them have not been altogether
discouraged. Indeed, if he might but win one to the right of the
Bible, it would be great gain, yet I cannot be disabused of my
thought that it is an up-hill work, and that a preacher may always
be prepared for an ambush, even when he thinks he has gained both
ear and heart.
Charles, my new world child, as I call
him, being the first born here, is a daring spirit. The boy lives in
the chase or in war. Among the Alleghanies he was captured some time
since by a party of Indians, who took the child on, bare-foot, some
two hundred or more miles, his poor arms girded behind him and he
driven on by threats and brandishing of knives of his vile
tormenters. Traveling along a bank some twenty feet high, Charles
suddenly and by intense muscular force snapped the cords by which he
was bound, dashed himself down the precipice into the bed of a
mountain torrent below, and there effected his escape. Not but that
they followed him fast enough, yet he had some little the advance of
them, so, leaping the trunk of a tree which chanced to lay prostrate
in the way, a sudden failing of strength did come over him and he
sank in the woods and tall trees which surrounded it. His pursuers
bounded over, sundry of them almost touching him as they sprang, but
God be thanked, they did not slacken speed, and hurried on still
seeking him. As soon as he deemed it safe, he essayed to rise from
his grassy bed, but here was a new adversary to cope withal--a huge
rattlesnake lying in deadly coil so near his face he even must hold
his breath, lest the bare movement caused by inspiration bring the
monster’s fangs and his own nose (of which he had a goodly
allowance) in fatal contact. Once, indeed, as he waved to and fro,
his huge rattle rested upon Charles’ ear. Let him but wink, let him
but move one muscle and lo! the terrible thing would be upon him. He
lay thus in painful movelessness many minutes, when the beast,
supposing him dead, crawled over the lad’s body and went his way. It
is a noble characteristic that they will not attack that which hath
not life and power to get away.
I wonder if it be not token of my
death to-day, wiping spectacles and putting them on, I have taken up
this book after so long laying it aside. I feel indeed like a
traveler whose way has lain by a devious and up-hill road, and now
in some peaceful, sweet day, when there are no clouds in the sky,
turns to survey the way he has come, before entering into his rest
and closing the doors about him. I see my children here and there
setting around me, sons and my daughters, dear Andrew, who is known
as General Lewis, still follows the fortunes of his great chief,
Washington. Thomas is in the honorable House of Burgesses, my Alice
bears her matronly honors well, and sometimes tells her eldest child
how they dying Indian boy, Omayah, Christianized at the last, did
wildly crave the wings of the White Dove to bear him up to the house
of the Great Spirit.
There is a grave by Great Kanawha’s
side which tells where Charles Lewis, my blue-eyed American child
fell bravely fighting, honored and beloved, in the fierce affray at
Point Pleasant. --God rest him! the gentle at home are the bravest
at war, ever. A little hillock on the prairie with its white mound
of stones is not overlooked, though an insignificant object in the
landscape to any but mother-eyes.
William is confined by sickness, so we
hear to-day, also that his wife, noble woman! has sent off her last
three sons, the youngest thirteen, to repel the British at Rockfish
Gap. “Go, my children,” this Roman mother said, “I spare not even my
youngest, fair haired boy, the comfort of my declining years, I
devote you all to my country. Keep back the invader’s foot from the
soil of Augusta, or see my face no more.” 1 Men with such
mothers are the men to form a nation. But the wrangle of wars and
rumors of wars sound faint to me now, and I say to the one who
standeth hand in hand with me on this height, who hath been a
helpmeet every step of the way,--only a little longer, John Lewis,
and the Lord of the mountain will open unto us and we enter his
doors together.
Footnotes
1. Rockbridge County News, beginning
26 February 1891 and running through 12 March 1891. This is a
verbatim transcription. 2. Va. Gazette, published was by Wm. Parks
at Williamsburg, Aug 6, 1734. 3. When this circumstance was related
to Washington, his face lighting with enthusiasm, he exclaimed:
“Leave me but a banner to plant upon the mountains of Augusta, and I
will rally around me the men who lift our bleeding country from the
dust and set her free.”
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