any land about here, and the swamp soil is mighty rich, so of course
they could just grow anything they had a mind to. Of course they were
helped also by friendly slaves on the plantations ’round here, and then
they had their cattle and honey to help out.”
“Cattle and honey!” exclaimed the Spinster.
“Yes, ma’am; and they’re here yet. I get all the honey maw and I want to
eat from the hives of wild bees here, and most of my beef comes from
here, too. Besides, many a quarter I’ve sold. There’s no better eatin’
than the swamp cattle. But a cur’us thing about ’em is that their horns
is polished just like ivory. It comes from pickin’ up their livin’ in
the swamp and brushin’ constant against tree trunks and reeds and the
like.”
“I don’t see how they came here in the first place, and I don’t see what
they live on in the second place,” continued the Spinster, glancing at
the edges of the swamp on either side of our narrow channel, which
seemingly consisted only of masses of dead leaves, dank moss, and reeds.
“Oh, I suppose they was tame cattle in the first place that strayed in
here an’ then stayed an’ multiplied just as the slaves did. An’ as for
eatin’, you ain’t seen the swamp grass, ma’am; it’s mighty rich.”
“I should think it would be unhealthy here,” said I. “I don’t see how
those fugitive slaves flourished to the third generation.”
“Well, no; that’s the queer part of it. It ain’t unhealthy. Those
niggers who dug this ditch died of fever, but the swamp itself ain’t
unhealthy. On the contrary, the medical folks say it’s a good place for
consumptives, and that this swamp water you see here, just as brown as
coffee, is good for ’em to drink. There’s been some talk of puttin’ up a
hotel on the shore of Lake Drummond for a health resort, and cuttin’ a
channel wide enough for a steamboat to run regular, but I hope they
won’t get to it in my time. I can’t hope that the Swamp’ll last much
longer,” he continued, with a sigh. “You see how black and rich the
ground is, and if it was drained and cleared it would be mighty
productive. Some capitalists are already talking of doing that and
dividing it off into farms.”
This was a plan that pleased the Spinster, and she kept our guide
talking on this and kindred topics until the sun, creeping on, stood
directly overhead, and it was noon, and we had reached the limit of our
journey.
We forgot our prosaic talk of so short a time before when we stood on
the shores of Lake Drummond. There lay the magic lake, boldly gray, even
in brightest sunshine. Waves which were born from the winds of the
wilderness lapped the pebbles at our feet. Although the sun shone warm
upon us, it could not overcome the feeling of awe-struck loneliness.
“Do you notice,” said my companion softly, “that even the bird-calls of
the swamp have ceased?”
I nodded without speaking. It seemed unfitting to break by words the
ghostlike silence that brooded over this water so far from the life and
ways of men.
A moment later the guide joined us and brought us down from this high
plane by his unconcerned talk.
“Yes,” he said, “this lake’s just on the boundary line between North
Carolina and Virginia. We came through ten miles of Virginia swamp this
morning to get to it, and we’d have to pole through ten miles of North
Carolina swamp if we tried to get out through the other side across the
lake there.”
“What sources feed Lake Drummond?” asked the Spinster, shaking herself
free from the abstraction that had preceded Alphonso’s entrance upon the
scene.
“Nobody knows,” returned the guide, shaking his head. “Nobody knows
where it comes from nor where it goes. The black folks around here say
that the lake belongs to the devil and the scientific people say it’s of
volcanic origin. Perhaps that amounts to the same thing.” Then he
changed the subject by briskly demanding if we were ready for lunch.
We ate our luncheon in the rough wooden house, which, with its
shake-down beds and pine board tables, served as quarters for the
hunters and scientists, sometimes for weeks at a time. Perhaps its
limited accommodations satisfied them. We should not have been
contented.
We were not sorry to find ourselves once more in our comfortable boat
and started on our homeward journey.
“I reckon we don’t get any bears this trip,” remarked Alphonso, after we
had progressed a considerable distance.
“Do you often get them?” asked the Spinster.
“Sure, though it’s kind o’ between seasons for them now. They ain’t out
lookin’ after berries or honey. I might say that I bag ’em mighty
frequent,” he continued. “That is, when I’m hunting by myself. When I’m
guidin’ other folks they do more missin’ than hittin’, I’m bound to
say,” he added with a laugh.
We had heard the evening before that Alphonso was considered the best
shot in Nansemond County, so that we did not doubt his personal prowess,
but the humorous twinkle in his eye encouraged us to ask for stories of
the misadventures of other people, and we heard various seriocomic tales
of grave professors who could draw a trigger and yet miss a bear within
six feet of them, or let a bear-cub crawl away unhurt, not from a sense
of pity, but from absent-mindedness.
“But I don’t mind so much their missin’ of the game,” said Alphonso, “as
I do their wanderin’ off by themselves an’ gettin’ lost in this ’ere
swamp. It takes me such a pile o’ walkin’ before I can round ’em up
again. I remember once I was fool enough to let a party of three go off
huntin’ by themselves. It took me two days before I found ’em again, an’
I can tell you I was gettin’ mighty anxious. My! didn’t they enjoy the
wild-cow beefsteak I cooked for ’em that night!”
As he spun his yarns, we hoped to beguile Alphonso into a more personal
strain and get him to tell about his own life and his mother to whom he
had more than once alluded. Although evidently unwilling to do so, he
did tell us enough of his life so that we could piece together his story
and account for his opposing characteristics. It seemed that his mother
had been an heiress and a belle in the days before the war. She had
married a colonel who was killed in one of the first battles, and her
only child, Alphonso, had at the age of eleven been thrust out into the
world to gain a living for himself and his mother. This he had succeeded
in doing, but there had been no time for education—that is, for
book-knowledge. Chivalry of manner he had learned from his lady-mother.
The wiles of Cupid he had likewise shunned. As he told us, he was an
“old bach,” and lived alone with “maw,” and reckoned he’d continue so to
do, When we tried to gather more details of his life, he showed himself
shy, as well as modest, and parried our most skillful questions. His
last evasion led to an incident which proved much to our advantage.
“Look-a-there,” he cried, not answering the Spinster’s last quiz. “Do
you see that owl, ma’am, perched on that dead branch in the top of that
pine tree? He’s the largest I’ve seen this year. Would you like him?
He’d make a mighty nice specimen in case you’re collectin’.”
The Spinster’s eye and mine met in consultation. The decision was
unanimous, and an instant later the guide’s unerring rifle rang out and
the owl was fluttering in the water dead. He was picked up and his
plumage smoothed, and he was carefully bestowed under one of the boat
seats. The small remaining portion of our journey was given up to talk
about our new possession and how he should ultimately be disposed of,
and in this manner our day with Alphonso, “the Lohengrin of the Swamp,”
drew to a close. We were met at the appointed time and place by fat
Moses with the springless carriage. Alphonso bade us a courteous adieu,
again leaning against his oar in the attitude of the morning.
Moses drove us back to the station at a rapid pace, chuckling the while
at our owl which lay on the seat beside him and which he said “looked
just like de debbil.” We arrived at the station in time to procure a box
for our owl, and then boarding the train arrived safely in Norfolk that
night.
LOUISE E. CATLIN.
_Evening Post_, N. Y.
[Illustration: [Fleuron]]
MISCELLANEA OF AMERICAN HISTORY:
A REFERENCE LIST
The short list following is partly supplemental to _Larned’s Literature
of American History_; its regular A. L. A. continuations; the various
cumulative indexes to periodicals and Miss Kroeger’s Guide to reference
books (_q. v._). This little collection, which may be extended, is
intended merely ta present some clews to additional means of historical
research.
KEY:—
010 Bibliography (general).
017 Catalogs (sale).
580 Botany (ancient America).
913 Antiquities.
920 Biography.
929 Genealogy.
973 History (U. S.).
010 BIBLIOGRAPHY (general).
=Cole, George Watson.= Compiling a bibliography. Practical hints with
illustrative examples concerning the collection, recording and
arrangement of bibliographical materials, by George Watson Cole.
An address delivered before the Pratt Institute School of
Library Training, March 15, 1901; reprinted, with additions,
from the _Library Journal_ [26:791,–859]; New York, The Library
Journal, 1902. 21 pp. 23½ x 19 cm. [“Two hundred and fifty
copies printed for private distribution.”]
=Cole, George Watson.= American bibliography, general and local. (In
the _Library Journal_, 19, No. 1 [Jan., 1904]:—5–9.)
017 CATALOGS (sale).
=Bibliotheca Americana.= Being a collection of books ... for sale by
George Harding, 64, Gt. Russel St., Bloomsbury, London, W. C.,
England. New series, No. 112 (1905). 36 pp.
=Edwards’s= American catalogue. Parts 1–3 (1904–1905). _Books for sale
by_ Francis Edwards, 83, High Street, Marylebone, London, W.,
England. _Partially annotated._
_Contents_: Part 1 (Oct., 1904). The American continent; voyages of
discovery, general histories, collections, atlases, and maps (pp. 1–35);
natural history; geology, botany, zoölogy (pp. 36–53); North American
Indians and prehistoric remains of man in North America (pp. 54–69);
languages of North American Indians (pp. 70–72). Part 2 (1904–1905?)
_relates_ to Dominion of Canada and Newfoundland, Alaska and Yukon
territory. Part 3 (June, 1905), The United States; Colonial period
1606–1764 (pp. 137–169); Revolution, 1765–83 (pp. 170–202);
Constitution, 1784–1811 (pp. 203–216); War of 1812 (pp. 217–221);
Settling of Great West, 1816–60 (pp. 222–240); Civil War, 1860–65 (pp.
241–248); Reconstruction, 1866–_date_ (pp. 249–254); Texas (pp.
255–256).
=Gray’s= international bulletin. _Books for sale_ by Henry Gray, Goldsmith’s
Estate, East Acton, London, W., England. _Monthly_, Foreign
series, No. 1 (1904–5?) pp. 32. _Contents_: Americana and
Coloniana.
580 BOTANY (ancient America).
=Cook, O. F.= Food plants of ancient America. (_In_ annual report of
the ... Smithsonian Institution ... for the year ending June 30,
1903, Washington: Government printing office, 1904; _see_ pp.
481–497.)
“Revision of article on The American Origin of Agriculture, in _Popular
Science Monthly_, October, 1902.” Sets forth some inferences to be drawn
from evidences of ancient trans-Pacific communication; distribution of
food-plants, etc.
913 ANTIQUITIES
=Butterworth, Hezekiah=, _ed._ The Mysterious Races. (_See his_ Young Folks’
History of America, chap. 1, 13–28, Boston: D. Lothrop & Co.,
1881, _illustrated_.)
=Field Columbian Museum=, _Chicago_. List and prices of publications issued
by Field Columbian Museum, Chicago, U. S. A. [1904.] 12^o. 9 pp.
_See_ serial Nos. 8, 16, 23, 28, relating to archæology of
Mexico, Peru and Yucatan.
=Hewett, Edgar L.= Antiquities of the southwest and their
preservation. By Edgar L. Hewett [of the] National Museum,
Washington. (_In_ THE MAGAZINE OF HISTORY, ... New York, 1, No.
5 [May, 1905]: 291–300.)
=Holmes, W. H.= Report ... on the Congress of Americanists, held at
Stuttgart, Germany, Aug. 18–23, 1904. (In _Smithsonian
Miscellaneous Collections, quarterly issue_, vol. 47, No. 1558,
pp. 391–395.)
Contains programme of the congress, with titles of addresses;
also a list of publications, “a set of 75 bound volumes relating
mainly to American Archæology and Ethnology, published by the
Smithsonian Institution and its two bureaus—the National Museum
and the Bureau of American Ethnology.”
=McAdam, William.= Records of ancient races in the Mississippi Valley;
being an account of some of the pictographs, sculptured
hieroglyphs, symbolic devices, emblems and traditions of the
prehistoric races of America, with some suggestions as to their
origin. With cuts and views illustrating over three hundred
objects and symbolic devices. St. Louis: C. R. Barnes Publishing
Co., 1887. 120 pp., 8vo.
Based on much personal research by the author, who died about
April 16, 1895, on which date the _Alton_ (Illinois) _Daily
Republican_ printed a two-column obituary notice, he having been
a resident of that city.
The “Old Mill” at Newport: A new study of an old puzzle. _Scribner’s
Monthly_, 17, No. 5 (March, 1879): 632–641.
Makes some architectural comparisons of the tower with other
similar ancient structures, in an attempt thus to solve the
problem of the former’s origin.
=Prescott, William H.= Origin of the Mexican civilization—analogies
with the Old World. (_See his_ Conquest of Mexico, 3, appendix,
part 1: 309–352, Philadelphia: David McKay, 1892. [‘Preliminary
notice,’ pp. 309–310].)
“The civilization of Anahuac was, in some degree, influenced by
that of Eastern Asia; ... the discrepancies are such as to carry
back the communication to a very remote period,” _extract_, p.
352. Accompanied by very extensive notes and citations of
authorities.
=Thomas, Cyrus.= Central American hieroglyphic writing. (_In_ annual
report of the ... Smithsonian Institution ... for the year
ending June 30, 1903, Washington: Government Printing Office,
1904; _see_ pp. 705–721, _illustrated_.)
=U. S.= _Smithsonian Institution_. Classified list of Smithsonian
publications, available for distribution, April, 1904.
Washington: published by the Institution, 1904. (No. 1461.) 29
pp. 8^o. _See_ pp. 6–8, Archæology.
=U. S.= _Smithsonian Institution. Bureau of American Ethnology._ List
of publications of the Bureau of American Ethnology, with index
to authors and titles. Extract from the twentieth annual report
of the Bureau. Washington: Government Printing Office, 1903. 26
pp. [_paged_ cxcix-ccxxiv], 29½ cm.
920 BIOGRAPHY.
Twelve =contemporary= estimates of Washington. (In _Self Culture_, 2,
No. 6 [March, 1896]: 851–857.)
Accounts quoted (presumably) _verbatim_.
=Elliott, Agnes M.= _Comp._ Contemporary biography. References
to books and magazine articles on prominent men and women of the
time. Compiled by Agnes M. Elliott. [Pittsburgh]: Carnegie
Library, 1903, pp. 171, 23 cm.
929 GENEALOGY.
=Allaben, Frank.= Concerning genealogies; being suggestions of value
for all interested in family history. New York: The Grafton
Press, 1904 (?) 12mo. 75 cts. _Not examined._
=American= genealogies or family histories, and other historical
works, for sale by Joel Munsell’s Sons, Albany, N. Y. 48 pp. 12½
cm.
Contains a large number of surnames arranged alphabetically,
with date, number of pages and price of publication.
=Genealogical=, heraldic and historical publications of the
Grafton Press. New York: 1905. 16 pp.
=Gray’s= International Bulletin. _Books for sale by_ Henry Gray,
Goldsmith’s Estate, East Acton, London, W., England. _Monthly_,
No. 242 (1904–5?); pp. 16. _Contents_: Family history, British
and foreign.
_Same._ Subject series, No. 1 (1904–5?); pp. 32. _Contents_:
Family history and other personalia.
Partly annotated, and arranged in alphabetical order by
surnames, with some cross references.
=McPike, Eugene Fairfield.= Genealogy in America. (_Notes and
Queries_, London, tenth series, 2:63.) [Relates to the attitude
of Washington, Adams, Franklin, Garfield and Oliver Wendell
Holmes toward genealogical research. Authorities cited.]
973 HISTORY (U. S.).
=Clark, A. Howard.= List of publications of the American Historical
Association, 1885–1902, and the American Society of Church
History, 1888–1897. Contents of _American Historical Review_,
1895–1902, by A. Howard Clark, Washington: Government Printing
Office, 1903, p. 65, _paged_ 575–639.
Reprinted from the Annual Report of the American Historical
Association for 1902, vol. 1, pp. 575–639. Gives titles
of all articles forming contents of each publication,
and concludes with an excellent index.
[=Deshler, C: D.=] A Glimpse of “Seventy-six.” _Harper’s New
Monthly Magazine_, 49, No. 290 (July, 1874): 230–245.
An interesting account by one who was personally acquainted
with many survivors of the American Revolution.
Accompanied by illustrations of colonial furniture.
=Finney, B. A.= Public libraries and local history. (_Public
Libraries_, 10, No. 1 [Jan., 1905]: 1–6.) [Read before the Ann
Arbor Library Club, March 12, 1903.] _Same._ Also issued
separately.
=Guest=, _Captain_ =Moses=. 1755–1828. Poems on several
occasions. To which are annexed extracts from a journal kept by
the author while he followed the sea, and during a journey from
New Brunswick, in New Jersey, to Montreal and Quebec _Ed._ 2.
Cincinnati: Looker & Reynolds, 1824. 160 pp., 12^o _in half
sheets_.
Most of these poems were written during the American
Revolution. Captain Guest belonged to the New Jersey
militia and captured Lt.-Col. J. G. Simcoe, of the
Queen’s Rangers, Oct. 26, 1779. This incident is
described in his journal, which, however, begins 16
March, 1784. He removed to Cincinnati in 1817.
[=McLaughlin, Andrew C.=] [Descriptions of work undertaken by
the Bureau of Historical Research, established by the Carnegie
Institution of Washington.] (_Am. Hist. Review_, 9, No. 3
[April, 1904]: 635–636; _caption_ Notes and News: America.)
=McLaughlin, Andrew C.= Historical research. (_In_ Carnegie
Institution of Washington, Year book, No. 3 [1904], pp. 65–67.)
Describes the work and plans of the Bureau of Historical
Research, established by the Carnegie Institution;
includes mention of its (completed) Guide to the
Archives of the Government of the U. S., at Washington;
of preliminary report by Prof. Chas. M. Andrews of Bryn
Mawr, on the character, extent and location (in British
archives) of material for the study of American history;
of a bibliography of current (1903) writings on American
history, etc. As the director is the editor of the
_American Historical Review_, some of the material
collected by the Bureau appears in that periodical.
[=Putnam, Herbert.=] Publication of historical material by the
Government. (_In his_ report of the librarian of Congress for
the ... year ending June 30, 1904; pp. 66–70; 171–181.)
“The library seems in a peculiarly favorable position to
publish such of the MSS. in its possession as seem to
deserve publication. It will begin with those that most
obviously require it. The first of these is the Journals
of the Continental Congress, of which admittedly no one
of the three existing editions is either complete or
accurate.” _Extract_, p. 69. Other important historical
collections mentioned.
=Richardson, Ernest Cushing=, and =Morse, Anson Ely=. Writings
on American history, 1902. An attempt at an exhaustive
bibliography of books and articles on United States history,
published during the year 1902, and some memoranda on other
portions of America. Princeton, N. J.: The Library Book Store,
1904. P. xxi + 294.
A similar collection for 1903 has been undertaken by the
Bureau of Historical Research, Carnegie Institution,
Washington, D. C.
=Tarbell, Ida M.= The Story of the Declaration of Independence.
(In _McClure’s Magazine_, 17, [July, 1901]: 223–235.)
“Illustrated with portraits and autographs of the signers.”
EUGENE FAIRFIELD MCPIKE.
CHICAGO.
EDITORIAL
Although the year now nearly ended has been one of extreme labor on the
part of the Editor, he feels a reasonable degree of pride in that his
efforts to produce a magazine worthy of being known as the successor of
Mrs. Lamb’s MAGAZINE OF AMERICAN HISTORY, have been recognized as
successful, by many of his subscribers. That the venture could be
financially profitable the first year, was not expected—yet the
deficiency is not large, and may even yet be extinguished by the receipt
of a comparatively small number of subscriptions before the New Year is
upon us.
It is not the Editor’s custom to make unlimited promises for a coming
year—he much prefers to let the performance of 1905 stand as a fair
sample of what may be expected in 1906, and promises only to improve on
it if he can. It is so obvious that the standard of a periodical depends
on the growth of its subscription list, that he alludes to it only to
emphasize the fact that an historical periodical is particularly so
dependent, as advertising receipts from such an one can never be
large—advertisers as a rule seeking only those of great circulation.
Hence the need that all who claim to be interested in our Nation’s
history should prove that interest by subscribing to this, the only
monthly devoted to the subject and not confining itself to any one
section of the United States.
Its value can also be enhanced by the receipt of queries or historical
items appropriate to its columns—and the Editor wishes such whether from
subscribers or those who may read it only in our public libraries.
To those who have aided him by contributing MSS. during the year, he
returns his warmest thanks, appreciating fully that only by such aid has
it been possible to successfully conduct the publication.
The irregularity in publishing the monthly parts, has been
unavoidable—but subscribers may rest assured that all possible will be
done to reduce this to a minimum. It has been as much of an annoyance to
the Editor as to his subscribers, but may be occasionally inevitable in
the absence of the usual “quantity of matter awaiting publication,”
which more fortunate editors have been known to mention to aspirants for
literary fame.
MINOR TOPICS
THE FATE OF THE PIGEONS
[The description of the vast flocks of the wild pigeons (_Ectopistes
migratoria_), given in Mr. Ryman’s article in the October MAGAZINE,
makes the following article, from a recent number of _Forest and
Stream_, of timely interest. The Editor remembers that in 1892, when
he desired to give a game dinner in New York, he was unable to add
these birds to his list, although making application to dealers as far
west as Minneapolis. The description of a flight of pigeons, given by
Audubon and Wilson in their works, is of remarkable value, as showing
the great change wrought in a comparatively short period of time by
the increase of population in the former haunts of these valuable
birds.—ED.]
Being old enough at the time to fully appreciate the grand sight of the
myriads of wild pigeons as they moved back and forth through the
Mississippi valley in the late seventies, it did not occur to the writer
when they suddenly disappeared that it meant they had done so for all
time.
As the years pass and no satisfactory explanation has been advanced, the
subject fairly nettles the thoughtful lover of nature. Superficial
humane zealots as usual credit the trapshooters with wanton slaughter,
which is positively silly when it is remembered that a single flock, one
of a hundred that passed in a day, would supply pigeons for trapshooting
for several years. That disease exterminated them is not impossible, and
is by far more reasonable than the trap or net explanation, twenty-five
or more years of guessing having failed to locate or account for the
birds.
The suggestion here offered (for what it is worth), which was brought
about by a dream, may, if followed up, give a clew to the whereabouts or
fate of the birds which sportsmen of the last generation will ever
remember as the most graceful and skillful flyers known. The dream above
mentioned need not be given in detail, nor could it be at this time;
however, the writer dreamed of a pow-wow with a venerable Indian who,
when asked what had become of the pigeons, stated, to quote him
literally (as dreamed), that “Pigeon heap d——n fool, fly in big water
[meaning the Gulf of Mexico], no come back.”
I am without any element of superstition, but this dream and Indian
affirmation have haunted me for months. I have just returned from the
Gulf coast, where, strange as it may seem, the dream has in a measure
been confirmed as follows:
Having waded through a slough several times in quest of jack snipe,
which were there in large numbers, and having killed and bagged many, I
came to an inviting log near the edge of the swamp, which made a good
resting place for a tired shooter. While seated there making up my mind
whether I should quit shooting or go back after the snipe again, an old
negro driving an antiquated mule attached to a creaking, ramshackle
wagon with dished wheels, drove up. A few pieces of webbing, some chains
for traces, and a bridle and reins of common clothesline made a
perfectly harmonious outfit.
“Whoa, Jake!” commanded the old man as he rolled up to my resting place.
“Good mo’nin’, sah. You all been spo’tin’ some dis mo’nin’.”
I assured him I had bagged a lot of jacks.
“I dun hear pow’ful lots o’ gun firin’ as I come along back.”
His aged and gray head was set with bright eyes, and his old face beamed
with good nature. I decided to do some of the questioning, so I started
in with an inquiry as to whether Jake, who stood within reach of my seat
on the log, had been or was a kicker. His owner assured me he was gentle
and “never was a fool mule.”
“How long have you lived here, uncle?” I inquired.
“I don’t live here; I lives up dis road ’bout fo’ miles.”
“Yes, but how long have you lived in Texas, or near the Gulf?” I asked.
“Good Lo’d! I dun always been here,” and, as if to emphasize the
statement, his old face wrinkled more than usual.
“Do you remember the pigeons, years ago?” I asked.
“I shore does, sah.”
“What became of them?” I asked, recalling the dream.
“Whar you all come from to ast dis nigger such fool things! Of cou’se I
knows.”
“Well, I don’t,” I remarked; “but would like to very much.”
“You never dun heard of de black fog and the ‘norther’ on dis beach
’bout twenty-five years ago?”
“I never have; but what has that to do with it?”
“Beg your pa’don, sah, I guess you-all ain’t jokin’?”
I assured him I was not, and he began the story of the disappearance of
the pigeons something like this:
“When me and Tom Clay was out huntin’ ’coons and bob cats one day, de
fog came so thick it was most pitch dark in dis woods, and we was ’fraid
to go to the island where Mars Judge Tobin lived, and we was workin’,
and jes had to stay right dar in dat timber fo’ days and fo’ nights—coze
we shore would git lost if we rowed de boat in dat fog. Well, de second
mo’nin’ along come de ‘norther’ an’ dun blowed dis timber most to
pieces, but not de fog. By an’ bye I hear a sound, I dun heard befo’,
pigeons was a-flyin’ over, and de sound kep’ up all dat day till mos’
dark. Den dey come fallin’ thro’ de trees around us with their wings
busted, and heads busted, like they was plum crazy; an’ when dey seen
our fire dey fluttered into it and put it clean out. Yas, sah, dat’s
God’s truf, I dun tole you all. Next mo’nin’ all dat could fly started
off to’d the ocean, an’ the noise of more a-comin’ kep’ up all day till
mos’ night. Dat noise was shore mighty bad, an’ we dun been ’bout scared
to death when de fog lifted, an’ we started fo’ home in de boat. Den we
was scared agin, fo’ de bay was mos’ covered with dead pigeons an’ blood
an’ feathers, an’ mos’ every kind of a fish was dar jes helpin’ hisself,
an’ so thick we could jes row de boat. We dun busted right into a nest
of sharks feedin’ on pigeons, an’ one throwed his tail so hard he
knocked de oar out of de boat mos’ ten feet. Next mo’nin’ all the
pigeons was dun gone, excep’ on de beach was some washed up, an’ a
pow’ful lot of dead fish, little ones’ s’pose got killed in de rush for
pigeons. I neber did see a big flock since, an’ ain’t seen nary one fo’
yeahs now.”
“Then you think they perished in the Gulf?” I asked.
“I dun seen um, I knows I know it!” he replied.
Will some kind reader help me in this matter and interview some old sea
dog who may have met the unfortunate birds further out to sea, and
verify this negro’s story, and the characteristic statement that “pigeon
heap fool, fly in big water, and no come back,” of the visionary Indian?
INDIAN LEGENDS: III.
THE LONE BUFFALO
Among the legends which the traveler frequently hears, while crossing
the prairies of the Far West, I remember one which accounts in a most
romantic manner for the origin of thunder. A summer storm was sweeping
over the land, and I had sought a temporary shelter in the lodge of a
Sioux or Dacotah Indian on the banks of the St. Peter’s River. Vividly
flashed the lightning, and an occasional peal of thunder echoed through
the firmament. While the storm continued my host and his family paid but
little attention to my comfort, for they were all evidently stricken
with terror. I endeavored to quell their fears, and for that purpose
asked them a variety of questions respecting their people, but they only
replied by repeating, in a dismal tone the name of the _Lone Buffalo_.
My curiosity was of course excited, and it may readily be imagined that
I did not resume my journey without obtaining an explanation of the
mystic words; and from him who first uttered them in the Sioux lodge I
subsequently obtained the following legend:
There was a chief of the Sioux nation whose name was the Master Bear. He
was famous as a prophet and hunter, and was a particular favorite with
the Master of Life. In an evil hour he partook of the white man’s
fire-water, and in a fighting broil unfortunately took the life of a
brother chief. According to ancient custom blood was demanded for blood,
and when next the Master Bear went forth to hunt, he was waylaid, shot
through the heart with an arrow, and his body deposited in front of his
widow’s lodge. Bitterly did the woman bewail her misfortune, now
mutilating her body in the most heroic manner, and anon narrating to her
only son, a mere infant, the prominent events of her husband’s life.
Night came, and with her child lashed upon her back, the woman erected a
scaffold on the margin of a neighboring stream, and with none to lend
her a helping hand, enveloped the corpse in her more valuable robes, and
fastened it upon the scaffold. She completed her task just as the day
was breaking, when she returned to the lodge, and shutting herself
therein, spent the three following days without tasting food.
During her retirement the widow had a dream in which she was visited by
the Master of Life. He endeavored to console her in her sorrow, and for
the reason that he had loved her husband, promised to make her son a
more famous warrior and medicine man than his father had been. And what
was more remarkable, this prophecy was to be realized within the period
of a few weeks. She told her story in the village, and was laughed at
for her credulity.
On the following day, when the village boys were throwing the ball upon
the plain, a noble youth suddenly made his appearance among the players,
and eclipsed them all in the bounds he made, and the wildness of his
shouts. He was a stranger to all, but when the widow’s dream was
remembered, he was recognized as her son, and treated with respect. But
the youth was yet without a name, for his mother had told him that he
should win one for himself by his individual prowess.
Only a few days had elapsed, when it was rumored that a party of Pawnees
had overtaken and destroyed a Sioux hunter, when it was immediately
determined in council that a party of one hundred warriors should start
upon the war-path and revenge the injury. Another council was held for
the purpose of appointing a leader, when a young man suddenly entered
the ring and claimed the privilege of leading the way. His authority was
angrily questioned, but the stranger only replied by pointing to the
brilliant eagle’s feathers on his head, and by shaking from his belt a
large number of fresh Pawnee scalps. They remembered the stranger boy,
and acknowledged the supremacy of the stranger man.
Night settled upon the prairie world, and the Sioux warriors started
upon the war-path. Morning dawned and a Pawnee village was in ashes, and
the bodies of many hundred men, women and children were left upon the
ground as food for the wolf and vulture. The Sioux warriors returned to
their own encampment when it was ascertained that the nameless leader
had taken more than twice as many scalps as his brother warriors. Then
it was that a feeling of jealousy arose, which was soon quieted,
however, by the news that the Crow Indians had stolen a number of horses
and many valuable furs from a Sioux hunter as he was returning from the
mountains. Another warlike expedition was planned, and as before the
nameless warrior took the lead.
The sun was near his setting, and as the Sioux party looked down upon a
Crow village, which occupied the center of a charming valley, the Sioux
chief commanded the attention of his braves and addressed them in the
following language:
“I am about to die, my brothers, and must speak my mind. To be fortunate
in war is your chief ambition and because I have been successful you are
unhappy. Is this right? Have you acted like men? I despise you for your
meanness and I intend to prove to you this night that I am the bravest
man in the nation. The task will cost me my life, but I am anxious that
my nature should be changed and I shall be satisfied. I intend to enter
the Crow village alone, but before departing, I have one favor to
request. If I succeed in destroying that village, and lose my life, I
want you, when I am dead, to cut off my head and protect it with care.
You must then kill one of the largest buffaloes in the country and cut
off his head. You must then bring his body and my head together, and
breathe upon them, when I shall be free to roam in the Spirit-land at
all times, and over our great prairie-land wherever I please. And when
your hearts are troubled with wickedness remember the _Lone Buffalo_.”
The attack upon the Crow village was successful, but according to his
prophecy the _Lone Buffalo_ received his death wound, and his brother
warriors remembered his parting request. The fate of the hero’s mother
is unknown, but the Indians believe that it is she who annually sends
from the Spirit-land the warm winds of spring, which cover the prairies
with grass for the sustenance of the Buffalo race. As to the _Lone
Buffalo_, he is never seen even by the most cunning hunter, excepting
when the moon is at its full. At such times he is invariably alone,
cropping his food in some remote part of the prairies; and whenever the
heavens resound with the moanings of the thunder, the red man banishes
from his breast every feeling of jealousy, for he believes it to be the
warning voice of the _Lone Buffalo_.
CHARLES LANMAN.
ORIGINAL DOCUMENTS
AGREEMENT BETWEEN EDMUND MUNRO AND JOHN SELLON
[Edmund Munro of Lexington, Mass. [1736–1778], lieutenant in the
French and Indian war. Served at the battle of Lexington, April 19,
1775; Lieutenant, Captain Miles’s company, Colonel Reed’s regiment,
also Quartermaster at Ticonderoga and with the Northern army in the
campaign ending with Burgoyne’s surrender; also Captain, Colonel
Bigelow’s (13th Mass.) regiment, Continental army; killed in the
battle of Monmouth, June 28, 1778.
The agreement between him and Sellon, executed at Crown Point, is a
curious proof of the caution of the New England nature. Sellon
practically insures him against loss, for a premium of £3. It is a
unique document, as far as we know.—ED.]
CROWN POINT _July 1. 1762_
Whereas Mr. Edmund Munro Has Served as an Adjutant in the Massachusetts
forces Last Winter, by order of the Gov^r of this Place, and by Virtue
of a Warrant Granted to Him Last Year by Gov^r Bernard And Whereas the
Afors^d Munro is under some Apprehensions that the Massachusetts
Government will not grant Him Pay for His Doing the Duty of an Adjutant,
from the 17^{th} Day of Nov^r Last till the 4^{th} day of March 1762
For and in Consideration of a Note of Hand Given to me the Subscriber
Payable to me or my Order for the Sum of Three Pounds Law^l Money
Bearing Equal Date with this I Do hereby Covenant, Seal and make Sure,
and if the Province does not Pay Him, the afors^d Munro, for the Service
aforementioned, in that case I Promise to pay or Cause to be paid unto
him the Pay allowed for the Service of Adjutant for the term of time
afors^d in Six Months, and Witness my Hand N. B.—if the afores^d Munro
did not Receive a Warrant or Commission to serve as Adjutant Last Year
in Col Hoar’s Regt then the above Obligation to be void and of None
Effect But if he did Receive a Warrant or Commission to act as Adjutant
then the above obligation to Remain in full Force and Virtue
JN* SELLON
Test. THOMAS COWDIN
LETTERS OF LIEUTENANT EDMUND MUNRO TO HIS WIFE
[Contributed by his great grandson, Dr. F. H. Brown, Boston.]
TICONDEROGA 16^{th} _August_ 1776
MY DEAR—
I arived at this place the 12^{th} Instant after a very fatiguing
march through the woods with 75 of the Company, the Capt. Lieut.
Ensign with the remainder of the Company are not arived yet. We had
rain almost every day, we are well fortified and Ready for the King’s
troops if they see cause to pay us a visit The troops that have been
here this Summer are sickly Moses Harrington died about ten days ago.
Daniel Simonds & Samuel Munro are sick but Like to recover, there is
none sick of the Small Pox & it is thought there is no Danger, By the
last account from Canada it is thought that the King’s troops will not
be like to come near us this summer, our whole army are Employed in
fortifying this place which will soon be strong enough if well man^d
to stand a rangle with all Brittain. Francis Bowman & Wm Crosby are
well & desire to be remembered to their friends Lexington men are in
good Health If you will leave a letter at Buckmans the Post will bring
it to me I shall be glad you could write me as I shall not rest easy
till I hear from you, by the next post I hope to send you some money.
my love to our little ones as you & they are never out of my mind My
compliments to all friends I remain my Dear your Loving Husband
EDMD MUNRO
VALEY FORGE, _May_ 17^{th} 1778
MY DEAR,
I send these lines with my warmest love & respect to you & the Little
ones Wishing they may find you & them & all friends in perfect Health
& Prosperity. I am in good Health through divine goodness. I have
nothing new to write you; the Lexington men are in a good State of
health, Except Levi Mead & pomp,[14] they are not well, but so that
(they) keep about. I am going on command tomorrow morning down to the
Enemy’s lines, there are two thousand going on the command I am of the
mind that we shall have a dispute with them before we return Give my
dutifull respects to Father & Mother Compliments to all Friends. I
conclude, Wishing you & the little ones the Best of Heaven’s
Blessings, and remain, my dear,
Your Most Effectionate Husband
EDMD MUNRO
Inclosed is a Lancaster news paper which you will see the account of
the grand fue de joy we had on the Sixth of May instant which is a
true & particular account of that day
VALLEY FORGE, 12 _June_ 1778
MY DEAR,
I send these lines with the Most effectionate love & Respect, to you &
the children, wishing they may find you in Perfect Health &
prosperity. I am well & in High spirits through divine goodness
Lexington men are all well; news we have none except the Commissioners
are arived from Great Brittain at Philadelphia in order to settle the
dispute between us & them They have Sent a Flag of truce, what they
had to offer is forwarded to Congress The new establishment of the
army is arived in camp; there is to be a Large Reducement of officers,
but as it has not taken place as yet, it is not known who are to be
Reduced The new arrangement is on a Better footing than it was before.
As it is to take place soon I will let you know my destiny by Mr
Williams who is in a fair way to recover of the Small Pox; by him I am
in Hopes to send you some money. I receiv^d you letter & a Pair gloves
I hope to reward you for your kindness to your satisfaction Be kind
enough to let me know whether you have Drawn a Blank or a Prize in
States Lottery
My due respects to all Friends
I am my dear your most effectionate
Husband
EDMD MUNRO
ORIGINAL MANUSCRIPT OF LINCOLN’S SPEECH ON THE FORMATION OF THE
REPUBLICAN PARTY. No date, but delivered in 1859.
[An extremely valuable Lincoln document, perhaps the best that was
ever offered at public sale. It was accompanied by a letter from Mrs.
E. J. Grinsley of Springfield, Ill., dated April 10th, 1866,
presenting the Speech to the Rev. E. P. Hammond.
Mrs. Grinsley in her letter calls it “_part of an address_,” but it
reads like a short but complete speech.]
The following is the text:
Upon those men who are in sentiment opposed to the spread and
nationalization of slavery, rests the task of preventing it. The
Republican organization is the embodyment of that sentiment; though, as
yet, it by no means embraces all the individuals holding that sentiment.
The party is newly formed; and in forming, old party ties had to be
broken, and the attractions of party pride and influential leaders were
wholly wanting—In spite of old differences, prejudices, and animosities,
its members were drawn together by a permanent common danger—They formed
and manœuvered in the face of the disciplined enemy, and in the teeth of
all his persistent misrepresentations— Of course, they fell far short of
gathering in all their own—And yet, a year ago, they stood up, an army
over thirteen hundred thousand strong—That army is, to-day, THE BEST
HOPE OF THE NATION AND OF THE WORLD— Their work is before them; and FROM
WHICH THEY MAY NOT GUILTLESSLY TURN AWAY.
MAJOR JAMES M’HENRY TO GEN. GREENE
[Part of letter of Major Jamel McHenry, member of the Continental
Congress, military secretary to Washington, and afterwards Secretary
of War, to General Greene. It is dated at Ambler’s Plantation,
(opposite James Island, Va.), July 8, 1781. It is not signed, but is
of great historical interest. He says:]
On the 4th Instant, the Enemy evacuated Williamsburg, where some Stores
fell into our Hands, and retreated to this Place, under the Cannon of
their Shipping. Next Morning we advanced to Bird’s Tavern and a Part of
the Army took Post at Narrell’s Mills about nine Miles from the British
Camp.—The Sixth I detached an advanced Corps under Gen’l Wayne, with a
View of reconnoitering the Enemy’s Situation. Their light Parties being
drawn in, the Pickets which lay close to their Encampment were gallantly
attacked by some Riflemen, whose Skill was employed to great Effect,
Having ascertained that Lord Cornwallis had sent off his Baggage, under
a proper Escort and posted his Army in an open Field fortified by the
Shipping, I returned to the Detachment which I found more generally
engaged. A Piece of Cannon had been attempted by the Van Guard under
Major Galvan, whose conduct deserves high Applause. Upon this the whole
British Army came out and advanced to the thin Wood occupied by Gen’l
Wayne. His Corps chiefly composed of Pennsylvanians, and some light
Infantry did not exceed eight hundred Men, with three Field Pieces. But
notwithstanding their Numbers at Sight of the British Army, the Troops
ran to the encounter, a short Skirmish ensued with a close Warm and well
directed firing, but as the Enemy’s Right and Left, of Course greatly
out flanked ours, I sent Gen’l Wayne Orders to retire Half a Mile to
where Colonels Vose and Barber’s light Infantry Battalions had arrived
by a rapid Move and where I ordered them to form, In this Position they
remained ’till some Hours after Sunset, The Militia under Gen’l Lawson
had been advanced and the Continentals were at Narrel’s Mill, when the
Enemy retreated in the Night to James Island, which they also evacuated,
crossing over to the South Side of the River. Their Ground at this Place
and the Island was successively occupied by Gen’l Muhlenberg, many
valuable Horses were left on their Retreat. From every account the
Enemy’s Loss has been very great and much Pains taken to conceal it.
Their Light Infantry the Brigade of Guards and two British Regiments
formed the first Line. The Remainder of their Army, the Second, the
Cavalry paraded, but did nothing. By the enclosed Returns you will see
what Part of General Wayne’s Detachment Suffered most. The services
rendered by the Officers make me happy to think that although many were
wounded, we have lost none. Most of the Field Officers had their horses
killed. The same accident to every Horse of two Field Pieces made it
impossible to move them unless men had been sacrificed. But it is enough
for the Glory of Gen’l Wayne, and the Officers and Men he commanded, to
have attacked the whole British Army, with a reconnoitering Party only,
close to their encampment, and by this severe Skirmish hastened their
Retreat over the River. Colo. Bayer of the Riflemen is a Prisoner.
LETTER OF WASHINGTON TO THE CITIZENS OF SAVANNAH
_May 13, 1798._
_To the Citizens of Savannah, and the inhabitants of its vicinity_:
GENTLEMEN.—I am extremely happy in the occasion now afforded me to
express my sense of your goodness, and to declare the sincere and
affectionate gratitude which it inspires.
The retrospect of past scenes, as it exhibits the virtuous character of
our country, enhances the happiness of the present hour, and gives the
most pleasing anticipation of progressive prosperity—
The individual satisfaction, to be derived from the grateful reflection,
must be enjoyed in a peculiar degree by the deserving citizens of
Georgia—a State no less distinguished by its services, than by its
sufferings in the cause of freedom.
That the city of Savannah may largely partake of every public benefit,
which our free and equal government can dispense, and that the happiness
of its vicinity may reply to the best wishes of its inhabitants is my
sincere prayer.
G^O WASHINGTON.
LETTER OF MARTHA WASHINGTON
PHILADELPHIA, _December the 3rd, 1792_.
_To Mrs. Frances Washington_:
MY DEAR FANNY.—Your Letter of the 2d of November came to my hands
yesterday—I am truly glad that the Major has had some little relief, and
I trust ere this he has found ease from the pain in his breast and side.
I beg my dear Fanny to write one day in every week and that we shall
know when to expect her letters, we are very anxious when the southern
post comes to hear from you. I write to you by every Mondays Post, your
letters come to us on Saturday.—I hope you will pay some attention to
your own health, as I feared you were in very delicate situation when I
left you at Mount Vernon. Thank god we are all tolerable well hear—Tho I
know you are with your friends that is ready to give you every
assistance and kindness, yet if there is any thing hear that you cannot
get whare you are that you may want, I beg you will let us know and it
will give us pleasure to supply you with it.
I am happy to hear that your dear little Babes keep well.
Our compliments to Mr. Bassett—my love and good wishes to your self and
the Major,—Your Brothers and Sisters,—Kiss the children for me.
I am my dear Fanny Your most affectionate
M. WASHINGTON.
-----
Footnote 1:
A plan destined to be tried on a larger scale, but with equal
futility, at Charleston Harbor, in 1861—so does History repeat
herself.
Footnote 2:
Ancestor of the poet Landor.
Footnote 3:
Min. of Legislative Council, and of General Assembly, Dec. 23 and 30,
1767.
Footnote 4:
Letter of Colden to Earl of Shelburne, Jan. 21, 1768. Doc. Rel. Col.
Hist. N. Y., VIII, p. 6.
Footnote 5:
Minutes, General Assembly, Feb. 6, 1768.
Footnote 6:
Vide Isaac Q. Leake, “Memoir of the Life and Times of General John
Lamb,” Chapters II and III.
Footnote 7:
Minutes, General Assembly, Dec. 18th and 19th, 1769.
Footnote 8:
Minutes, General Assembly, Dec. 31, 1769.
Footnote 9:
Minutes, General Assembly of that date.
Footnote 10:
Original in a book in the Office of the General Court, labelled
“Inquisitions &c., 1665–1676” p. 239, printed in Hening’s Statutes at
Large, II, 517.
Footnote 11:
Burke, Hist. Virginia, II, 237.
Footnote 12:
Quoted by Hening, Statutes at Large, II, 518.
Footnote 13:
Chalmer’s Annals, Vol. I, p. 345.
Footnote 14:
Pomp was a black man, wounded at the battle of Lexington, and probably
a servant to Captain Munro.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
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NAVAL AND MILITARY TROPHIES, AND RELICS OF HEROES OF GREAT BRITAIN
_Text by R. R. HOLMES_ ⁂ _Illustrations by W. GIBB_
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