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This
painting hangs in the Bath County Historical Society Museum
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Margaret Lynn Lewis was my 7 times great grandmother. She was the
wife of John Lewis. She is the mother of my 6 times great grandfather Brigadier General Andrew Lewis. The Lewis Family were the first to settle Staunton, Virginia in 1732. The following was taken from: http://www.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~vaaugust/valley.html
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 someone
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 underground, 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.”
