behind a log and caught hold of the boy. He screamed and the Indian laid
his hand over his mouth and in the Indian language told him to keep
still.
Black Wolf was the name of the middle-aged Indian. His son was about
eighteen years old. The other Indian seemed to be one of Black Wolf's
men. James said he was not so very much frightened after he was told he
belonged to Black Wolf, though he was one of the sternest looking men he
had ever seen. Black Wolf gave James some salt and told him to catch
some of his father's horses for him. James said he would, meaning he
would catch two, and try to make his escape on one of them. But every
time he caught a horse the Indians ran up and frightened it so it would
get away. At last the Indians gathered up their blankets and pots where
they were hidden in the grass and motioned for James to fall in line.
The young Indian went first, then the Indian man, then James, followed
by Black Wolf.
James tried to break off pieces of bushes so his father could tell which
way he had gone. Black Wolf tapped his shoulder and shook his head. Then
he tried to leave signs by digging his toes down into the soft earth.
Again Black Wolf shook his head.
After they had gone a long way, about sundown Black Wolf gave a long
war-whoop. He did the same the next morning at sunrise. The Indians did
this to show they had a prisoner. They gave one cry for each prisoner
taken. If they had taken scalps, the cry would have been a different
kind.
Before they lay down in the thicket that night, Black Wolf searched
James to see if he carried a knife. Then he took out a halter and tied
it fast to James' neck and wrapped the other end around his hand.
The next morning Black Wolf left James with the other two Indians and
went off to get a Dutch oven which he had taken on one of his other
expeditions. He gave this to James to carry. He fastened it to James'
back, but after it rubbed a sore place, James threw it down and refused
to carry it further. Black Wolf then took off the huge bundle which he
carried and told James to take it. But he could not even lift it from
the ground. The Indian then pointed to the Dutch oven, and he found it
was not so bad to carry after he padded it with leaves.
He found out how long the Indians could go without much food. For three
whole days they had only water in which poplar bark had been steeped. On
the fourth day they shot a buffalo. They took a small bit of the meat
and made a clear broth which they drank but Black Wolf did not let them
eat any of the meat until the next day, this being their custom after
fasting.
James said he travelled the whole way barefooted. Of course his feet
became sore from bruises. He saw many rattlesnakes, but he was not
allowed to kill them as the Indians considered them to be their friends.
James knew that the Shawnees, of whom Black Wolf was a member, lived far
to the West. He believed they must be nearing their town after he had
travelled for twenty days. He told of how they made a raft of logs on
which they crossed the Ohio and other streams. He learned how to twine
the long grapevines around the logs to make the raft. He saw how the
Indians made crude pictures in the banks of the streams to let other
Indians know they had a prisoner. Black Wolf stopped and drew three
Indians and a boy.
When the Indians came near their town they painted themselves black.
They left him white as an omen of safety. Black Wolf traded James to his
half-sister for a horse. James later found out why he was not taken into
the town. It was a time of peace and if they had seen the new prisoner,
they might have made him run the gauntlet. The old squaw was kind to him
and sometimes left him alone in the wigwam for days at a time. He said
he prayed to God to keep him safe. We cannot give all his experiences
with the Indians, but he was finally sold to a French trader from
Detroit. His name was Baptist Ariome and he liked James, for he looked
like his own son. He gave the old squaw fifty dollars' worth of silver
brooches, beads, and other trinkets in Indian money.
James met a man who was a trader from Kentucky, a Mr. Sherlock. This man
promised to write to James' father and tell him of his capture, of his
being sold and of his being taken to Detroit. After some time, as we
shall see, he did get back to Virginia.
But in the meantime, many other things were happening to the Moore
family. In July 1786, several of the hundred head of horses which
belonged to Captain Moore came in to the salt block to get salt. Captain
Moore went out to see them, about two hundred yards from the house.
Nearby were two of his children, William and Rebecca, who were coming
from the spring; not far away was another child, Alexander. All at once
a stream of bullets began to fly. Thirty Indians had hidden themselves
in the tall grass which almost surrounded the Moore home. William and
Rebecca were killed instantly. Captain Moore ran to the fence which
separated the lot from the house and as he climbed over, he was struck
by several bullets. The Indians then ran up and scalped him.
Two men who lived with the Moores were not far away in a field, reaping
wheat. When they heard the shooting they ran toward the house but when
they saw it was surrounded by Indians they made their escape and went
off to give the alarm to other settlers who were six miles away.
Mrs. Moore and Martha Evans, the girl in the house with her, quickly
barred the door when they saw the tragedy. They took down the rifles
which had been fired the night before and gave them to an old
Englishman, John Simpson, who was ill, to load for them. But the old man
could not help them, for he had been struck by a bullet as he lay sick.
Martha Evans soon decided to hide under a loose board in the floor of
the cabin. Polly Moore, a little girl of eight, was holding her baby
sister who was screaming with fear. Martha told Polly to get under the
board too, but she decided to stay with the baby.
Then the Indians burst down the door and lunged in. They took Mrs. Moore
prisoner and four children, John, Polly, Jane, and Peggy. They took
everything they fancied, then set the house on fire.
Poor Mrs. Moore saw the Indians kill her son because he was sick and
could not keep up with them. They killed the baby because it cried so
pitiously. They had to have their hands tied, as had James, and they,
too, fasted.
When at last they reached the Indian town, Mrs. Moore and Jane were
killed by torture and death at the stake. Polly was treated more kindly
and was finally sold to a man near Lake Erie, for a half gallon of rum!
Now fate seems to have taken a hand in bringing Polly and her brother
James together in that far-away country. While on a hunting expedition
James heard about the destruction of his family. He was told that his
sister Polly had been bought by a Mr. Stogwell, a man of bad character.
It was in the Winter, so James waited until Spring when Mr. Stogwell
moved into the same section of the country where he was living.
When James went to see them he found Polly very miserable. Her clothing
was only rags and she had almost lost hope of ever seeing any of her
people again. James found that Mr. Stogwell was unkind, too, so he went
with Simon Girty to Colonel McKee, Superintendent of Indians, to get her
release. He had Mr. Stogwell brought to trial, but they did not have
enough evidence and Polly could not leave him. However, after much
trouble, James was able to get passage for Polly and himself on a
trading boat and came down the Great Lakes. They landed in a Moravian
town where they met some friends owning horses. They journeyed to
Pittsburgh and stayed until Spring. Then they set off for Virginia, sad,
of course, knowing how few there would be to welcome them. Yet they were
delighted to find their brother Joseph was still safe. He had been
visiting his grandfather in Rockbridge County at the time of the
massacre.
Polly met and married the Reverend Samuel Brown, a Presbyterian
preacher. They had seven sons, and five of them were ministers.
Washington's Boyhood Friend--Lord Fairfax
"The Proprietor of the Northern Neck," Lord Fairfax, lived at "Greenway
Court" after first having a country seat at Belvoir near the Potomac
River in what is now Fairfax County.
An interesting character this Fairfax must have been. Born with a title
in England, he moved in intellectual circles there, was acquainted with
men of letters such as Addison and actually contributed some articles to
the _Spectator_. Either through boredom or a disappointment in not
winning the lady of his choice he decided to leave his country and come
to Virginia.
It may be of passing interest to learn that Lord Fairfax, although
proprietor of thousands upon thousands of acres, lived in a
comparatively simple way. His home was an unpretentious story and a half
frame building, situated in a large grove of trees, and surrounded by
smaller homes for servants and tenants. "Greenway Court," the name given
the home, very probably lacked more indications of elegance and grace
because of Fairfax's bachelor state.
A mile from the house he had erected a white-oak post which served as
guide for those in search of his dwelling. At White Post, the village
which derived its name from the signpost, one may see a replica of the
original, located on the site of the first one placed there in 1760 by
the proprietor.
His domain, called the "Northern Neck of Virginia," comprised the
present counties of Lancaster, Northumberland, Richmond, Westmoreland,
Stafford, King George, Prince William, Fairfax, Loudon, Fauquier,
Culpeper, Clarke, Madison and Page in Virginia and numerous counties in
West Virginia.
Lord Fairfax was exceptionally interested in fox hunting and reserved
great tracts for this sport. Sometimes he spent weeks at a time hunting.
He made a rule that whoever caught the fox should cut off its tail and
hold it aloft and should have no part of the expense of the subsequent
frolic. As soon as a fox was started all the young men would gallop off
at a great rate, while Fairfax waited behind with a servant familiar
with the hills and streams and who had a good ear; following the
servant's directions he frequently stuck the fox's tail in his hat and
rejoined the hunters!
Familiar to everyone is the fact that Lord Fairfax engaged Washington, a
boy of about sixteen, to survey his vast lands beyond the Blue Ridge.
Through this undertaking the latter gained a thorough knowledge of
frontier life and a reputation for dependability and self-confidence.
These attributes were to be needed later for participation in the French
and Indian War. A warm and lasting friendship grew up between the
proprietor and Washington.
Being British by birth and sympathy the course of the Revolution was
watched with mingled hopes and anxieties by Fairfax. When news of the
final capitulation at Yorktown arrived late in October 1781 the feeble,
disappointed and tired old man called his servant and asked to be put to
bed since he felt the time had come for him to die. In December of that
same year the great proprietor of the Northern Neck of Virginia died.
Winchester--The Frontier Town of the Valley
The first inhabitants of Winchester were a large tribe of Shawnee
Indians. Two houses occupied by white men are supposed to have been
standing as early as 1738.
Known as Old Town and Fredericktown it was named Winchester in 1752 in
honor of the English home of its founder, Colonel James Wood. The
settlement grew so rapidly it was necessary several times to enlarge its
boundaries. Colonel Wood and Lord Fairfax both donated additional lots
in order to extend the corporate limits of the town.
During the French and Indian War Colonel George Washington was asked to
go to Winchester to defend the Valley. He found refugees overrunning the
place and determined to build a fort on the outskirts of the town which
would afford protection in case of raids. He imported his own blacksmith
to do the foundry work, so anxious was he to speed the construction of
the fortifications. Fort Loudon was the name given, after Lord Loudon
the commander of the colonial forces, and a successful defense was made
against the French there. It may be of interest to learn that the fort's
bastion still remains and the well which supplied water during the
French and Indian War is still in use today.
No account of Winchester would be complete if the story of General
Daniel Morgan were omitted. Of Scotch-Irish extraction he came with his
parents from New Jersey to the new settlement. As a youngster he was
considered something of a bully. The story goes that around
"Battletown," an intersection in the roads where toughs used to fight
for the joy of combat, young Morgan was in the habit of placing large
stones at strategic points. In case he had to retreat he was able to
draw on this supply of ammunition!
Tradition has it that on one occasion young Dan Morgan had just arrived
in Winchester from the Western settlements on the South Branch--as a
driver of a pack for the fur traders. George Washington was ready with
his small party to go to the Ohio Country with a message to the French
officials not to continue their fort building on English property.
[Illustration:-_Courtesy Virginia State Chamber of Commerce_
GEORGE WASHINGTON'S HEADQUARTERS, WINCHESTER, VA.]
Washington's journal gives the following notes: "On Ye 17th day of Ye
month of Novemo,--the party consists of one guide and packer, one Indian
interpreter, one French interpreter and four gentlemen." We know now
that the celebrated Gist was his guide and Vanbraam his interpreter. It
is said that Morgan offered his services too as a guide, and was
accepted. It was on this perilous trip, perhaps, that each of these
young men realized the fine traits of the other.
It was Daniel Morgan who, at the outbreak of the Revolution, marched a
hundred men with one wagon of supplies to Boston to report to General
Washington. He fought at Quebec and Saratoga and defeated Tarleton at
Cowpens. He had charge of Hessian prisoners captured at Saratoga and
there are evidences yet of his supervision of construction of stone
walls and homes and the mill at Millwood built with prisoner labor.
"Saratoga" is the name he gave his home near Boyce; it was built mainly
by the Hessian artisans. On his way to Gettysburg in 1863 General Lee
used the fine old house as headquarters. This estate is on the road
between Winchester and Boyce and is in full view of the highway.
There is a wealth of amusing tales told about the old city, some dating
as far back as its conception; others have to do with the activities of
later times.
The story is still heard in Winchester of the time when guests and
village loafers were congregated in one of the taverns at the close of a
day to discuss weighty topics over their glasses of ale. From a window
they saw an old man get out of his gig, taking with him luggage for
overnight accommodation. The gig was comparable to the famed One Horse
Shay in its state of near collapse. Comments were passed among the group
inside as to the man's shabby appearance, his business and ultimate
destination. He was soon forgot in the midst of the ensuing conversation
between several young lawyers, one of whom remarked that he had heard a
sermon delivered which equalled the eloquence and fluency usually
reserved to lawyers pleading their cases. This brought forth eventually
a heated discussion of the merits of the Christian religion, argued pro
and con by those present lasting from six in the evening till eleven.
Finally one young fellow turned to the quiet old traveller. The latter
had sat with apparent interest and meekness throughout the five-hour
debate and had not joined in. The question was asked, "Well, old
gentleman, what's your opinion?"
The reply lasted almost an hour; he answered argument for argument in
the exact order in which each had occurred and with the greatest
simplicity and dignity. At the conclusion no one spoke for some time. At
last inquiry was ventured as to his identity. He was Chief Justice John
Marshall.
In his _Virginia: A History of the People_ John Esten Cooke relates this
story. An Irish laborer and his wife came in 1767 to the lower valley
country and stopped at the home of a Mr. and Mrs. Strode, German
landowner. For several years they lived with the German family and
during the time a son was born. When they decided to push on farther
south the Strode children followed, begging that they leave the little
boy behind with them. They had become very much attached to the baby and
were reluctant to see him go away. The parents naturally refused the
request. While stopping for a short rest they placed the baby on the
ground and the children would have run off with him if they could.
The family kept its southward course and at last reached the Waxhaws in
North Carolina. Here the boy grew up and later his name was familiar to
every one--Andrew Jackson, seventh President of the United States.
The legend may or may not be true, according to Mr. Cooke. But at least
there was a clear, cool spring on the Strode farm called "Jackson's
Spring."
A pamphlet compiled at Winchester on "What To See and How To See It"
tells us that the town changed hands seventy-six times during the War
Between the States. Other sources give a fraction of a smaller figure.
The exact number of times the town was under first Federal then
Confederate forces does not matter, but it is well to know that so much
of the fighting took place around the neighborhood. More will be said
about the Valley warfare later on.
Beginning in November 1861 and continuing until March of the following
year General Jackson had his headquarters in Winchester. After finding
suitable quarters he sent for his wife who had remained at their home in
Lexington, Virginia. Colonel Henderson in his well-known book,
_Stonewall Jackson,_ quotes Mrs. Jackson as saying of her stay that
Winter:
"The Winchester ladies were amongst the most famous of Virginia
housekeepers, and lived in a good deal of old-fashioned
elegance and profusion. The old border town had not then
changed hands with the conflicting armies, as it was destined
to do so many times during the war. Under the rose-colored
light in which I viewed everything that winter, it seemed to me
that no people could have been more cultivated, attractive, and
noble-hearted. Winchester was rich in happy homes and pleasant
people; and the extreme kindness and appreciation shown General
Jackson by all bound us to them so closely and warmly that ever
after that winter he called the place our 'war home'."
Winchester rightly claims that it is in the "heart of the apple
industry," for thousands of acres are devoted to the growing of fine
apples. Over a million barrels are harvested annually and at Winchester,
we believe, is the largest cold storage apple plant in the world.
Celebrating its crop each year, the city stages an apple blossom
festival during the latter part of April or the first of May when the
orchards for miles around are filled with the delicately tinted pink
blooms. This is a lavish sort of entertainment. A queen is selected to
reign over the festivities, her maids are invited from surrounding
sections of the country to participate in the parades and balls which
are given during the days' programs. If you haven't been already, plan
to attend an Apple Blossom Festival and see Virginia in one of her
prettiest moods--with gay young ladies and bloom-filled orchards.
You know of the "Tom, Dick and Harry" trio of Winchester and its
neighborhood, don't you? They are the world famous Byrd brothers,
descendants of the founder of Richmond, Colonel William Byrd of Westover
on the James. Tom Byrd is a successful planter and orchardist. Richard
Byrd is noted for his polar expeditions; now he is devoting all his
energies towards the perpetuation of peace for our country. Harry Byrd
was at one time a progressive young Governor of the State and now serves
as a Senator in the United States Congress.
The Valley Pike
"Route Eleven" as the road is called from Winchester to Bristol is one
of the most historic as well as the most beautiful in all Virginia. It
stretches, like a broad silver ribbon, for over three hundred and fifty
miles. It begins at the northern end of the Valley, near the Potomac
River, and leads one through the fertile Valley, southward and winding
ever westward through the Blue Ridge and the Alleghany mountains.
Let us review this famous driveway. Long before the coming of the white
men, the Indians followed almost a natural trail, as they journeyed back
and forth into the richest hunting grounds known anywhere in all their
world. Along it they found the big elk, bear, buffalo, wolves, foxes,
wild turkeys and smaller game.
The first pioneers followed this Indian Trail, as they called it. Then,
as they developed the country more and more, they brought in horses and
oxen. This made a wider road and soon they were rolling their hogsheads
of tobacco and grain over it. They carried their products to market in
heavy wagons, swapping their wild bees' honey, venison, grain, and
hand-woven linen for the precious salt, sugar, iron and lead. Over this
road came an ever increasing number of other pioneers to settle near
those already living in the rich Valley. They brought their furniture,
guns, and families and a most fervent respect for the priceless liberty
to be found there. Liberty where one could worship God as one pleased.
Liberty where one's children could share in the development and in a new
country, full of opportunities.
Historians claim that the young George Washington surveyed this road
through the Valley. Engineers today say that he did a wonderful work and
that they would make a few changes in it. Let us look at some of the
famous names of those who lived near or travelled over it. Some of them
lived within sight of the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains while others
visited from one end of it to the other. As one travels near Winchester,
he reads the names of John Marshall, George Washington, and General
Morgan. From Charlottesville one reads of Patrick Henry visiting Thomas
Jefferson at Monticello. There, too, were Lewis and Clarke, men famous
in the development of our West, the McCormicks, the Houstons, the
Austins and other noted Virginians who went West and settled there.
By now the Road was being called by many names, such as "The Old Indian
Trail", "The Great Road", the "Settlers's Road", while still others
called it the "Wilderness Road".
Then came peace and prosperity after the French and Indian War and that
of the Revolution. Finer horses and carriages were being brought into
the Valley and so a better road had to be built. Some thrifty soul
suggested having a splendid road which should be maintained by
tollgates. And so was built the famous "Valley Pike". This was the
pride, not only of the Valley, but of all Virginia and the South.
Interesting stories are told every day, as one travels over this
beautiful road, such as that of Charlotte Hillman who kept a tollgate
along the Pike. While Sheridan was making his famous raid through the
Valley (when he remarked that a crow travelling through the countryside
would have to carry a knapsack with provisions for his flight), he came
to the tollgate. Charlotte let down the gate and demanded toll from the
army before allowing it to pass. The General and his staff paid the toll
but he refused to pay for the entire corps. She lifted the gate but cut
a notch on a tree for every ten soldiers who passed. At the close of the
War she presented the United States Government with a bill--which is
said to have been paid in full.
Today Route Eleven is known as the Lee-Jackson Highway, so called in
honor of Generals Robert Edward Lee and "Stonewall" Jackson. As you
travel through the Great Valley of Virginia may you know more intimately
the great men and women who have built not only the Great Valley of
Virginia, but who have helped in the making of America. We hope this
little book may make you know them and love Virginia more ... and we
hope you will come again and again to enjoy the Great Valley of
Virginia. Berryville