by the howl of wild beasts. The wolves howling around us seemed to moan
their inability to drive us from their long and undisputed domain. The
bears, panthers and deer but seldom troubled us. When spring was fully
come and our little patch of corn, three acres, put in among the beech
roots, which at every step contended with the shovel-plough for the
right of soil, and held it too, we enlarged our stock of conveniences.
As soon as bark would peel off we could make ropes and bark boxes.
These we stood in great need of, as such things as bureaus, stands,
wardrobes, or even barrels were not to be had. Sometimes boxes made of
slippery elm bark, shaved smooth, and the inside out, were ornamented
with drawings of birds, trees, etc.
“We settled on beech land, which took much labor to clear. We could do
no better than clear out the smaller stuff and burn the brush, &c.,
around the beeches which, in spite of the girdling and burning we
could do to them, would leaf out the first year, and often a little
the second. The land, however, was very rich, and would bring better
corn than might be expected. We had to tend it principally with the
hoe, that is, to chop down the nettles, the water-weed, and the
touch-me-not. Grass, lamb’s-quarter, and Spanish-needles were reserved
to pester the better prepared farmer. We cleared a small turnip patch,
which we got in about the 10th of August. We sowed timothy seed, which
took well, and next year we had a little hay besides. The tops and
blades of the corn were also carefully saved for our horse, cow, and
the two sheep. The turnips were sweet and good, and in the fall we took
care to gather walnuts and hickory nuts, which were very abundant.
These, with the turnips which we scraped, supplied the place of fruit.
I have always been partial to scraped turnips, and could now beat any
three dandies at scraping them. Johnny-cake, also, when we had meal to
make it of, helped to make up our evening’s repast. The Sunday morning
biscuit had all evaporated, but the loss was partially supplied by the
nuts and turnips. Our regular supper was mush and milk, and by the time
we had shelled our corn, stemmed tobacco, and plaited straw to make
hats, etc., our appetites were sharp again. To relieve this difficulty,
my brother and I would bake a thin johnny-cake, part of which we would
eat, and leave the rest till morning. At daylight we would eat the
rest as we walked from the house to work.
“The methods of eating mush and milk were various. Some would sit
around the pot, every one taking therefrom for himself. Some would sit
at table and have each his tin cup of milk, with a pewter spoon, taking
just as much mush from the dish or the pot as he thought would fill his
mouth, then lowering it into the milk and taking some to wash it down.
This method kept the milk cool, and by frequent repetitions the pioneer
would contract a faculty of correctly estimating the proper amount of
each. Others would mix mush and milk together.
“To get grinding done was often a great difficulty, by reason of the
scarcity of mills, the freezing in winter and the droughts in summer.
We had often to manufacture meal in any way we could get the corn to
pieces. We soaked and pounded it, we shaved it, we planed it, and,
at the proper season, grated it. When one of our neighbors got a
hand-mill, it was thought quite an acquisition to the neighborhood.
In after years, when we could get grinding by waiting for our turn no
more than one day and a night at a horse-mill, we thought ourselves
happy. To save meal we often made pumpkin bread, in which, when meal
was scarce, the pumpkin would so predominate as to render it next
to impossible to tell our bread from that article, either by taste,
looks, or the amount of nutriment it contained. Salt was five dollars
per bushel, and we used none in our corn bread, which we soon liked as
well without it. What meat we had at first was fresh, and but little of
that, for had we been hunters we had no time for the chase.
“We had no candles, and cared but little about them except for summer
use. My business was to ramble the woods every evening for seasoned
sticks, or the bark of the shelly hickory, for light. ’Tis true
that our light was not as good as candles, but we got along without
fretting, for we depended more upon the goodness of our eyes than we
did upon the brilliancy of the light.”
Howe relates an anecdote of one Henry Perry, who in the fall of 1803,
after getting up his cabin near Delhi, left his two sons and returned
to Philadelphia for the remainder of his family, but finding his wife
ill, and afterwards being ill himself, could not get back till the
next June. These two little boys, Levi and Reuben, only eleven and
nine years old, remained there alone, eight months, fifteen miles from
any white family, and surrounded by Indians, with no food but the
rabbits they could catch in hollow logs, the remainder of one deer
that the wolves killed near them, and a little corn meal that they
occasionally obtained of Thomas Cellar, by following down the “Indian
trace.” The winter was a severe one, and their cabin was open, having
neither daubing, fire-place, nor chimney; they had no gun, and were
wholly unaccustomed to forest life, being fresh from Wales, and yet
these little fellows not only struggled through but actually made a
considerable clearing! Jacob Forst, at an early day, when his wife
was sick and could obtain nothing to eat that she relished, procured
a bushel of wheat, and throwing it upon his shoulders, carried it to
Zanesville to get it ground, a distance of more than seventy-five miles
by the tortuous path he had to traverse, and then shouldering his flour
retraced his steps home, fording the streams and camping out nights.”
Dr. Hildreth says that for many years after the first settlement of
Ohio, salt had to be brought across the mountains on pack-horses.
“Those immense fountains of brine that now are known to exist deep in
the rocky beds below, were not then dreamed of; it was supposed that
the west would always be dependent on the Atlantic coast for salt,
and deeply deplored as a serious drawback on the prosperity of this
beautiful region. Although springs of salt water were known in various
places, they were of so poor and weak a quality as to require from
four to six hundred gallons of the water to make a bushel of salt; and
when made, it contained so much foreign matter as to render it a very
inferior article. Yet as it could be used in place of the imported
salt, and saved the borderer’s money, at that day not very plenty, it
was occasionally resorted to by the settlers, who, assembling in gangs
of six or eight persons, with their domestic kettles, pack-horses and
provisions, camped out for a week at a time in the vicinity of the
saline. These springs were generally discovered by hunters, and were at
remote points from the settlements.”
XIV.
ANN BAILEY.
The account of the first settlement of Gallipolis, Ohio, forms a
curious piece of pioneer history. When the disturbances of the French
Revolution had driven many families from their native country, an
office was opened in Paris for the sale of American lands owned by the
“Scioto Company,” and situated on the west bank of the Ohio river,
above the mouth of the Big Scioto in the Northwest Territory. A general
prospectus was issued, setting forth that the company owned a million
of acres; the advantages to the emigrant and ultimate value of the
land, were glowingly painted, and hundreds rushed to the agents to
purchase estates which might be acquired at a very moderate price. Some
five or six hundred emigrants, in eluding doctors, lawyers, officers,
merchants, manufacturers, mechanics, farmers, gardeners, etc., with
their deeds in their hands, and eager with hope and expectation, sailed
in February, 1790, from Havre de Grace, five ships being chartered to
convey them to Alexandria, Virginia. They were received with a warm
and hospitable welcome by the inhabitants of that town, supplied with
portions of their stores, and taught all that was necessary to learn as
to the manner of living in the new country.[28]
From a correspondence opened with the Secretary of the Treasury of the
United States, the emigrants learned that the Scioto Company had failed
in their engagements to government, and that the lands purchased from
the Treasury Board had reverted and been sold in 1787 to the agents
for the directors of the Ohio Company, pursuant to an act of Congress
passed the July preceding. This was the first knowledge they had of
their true situation, and the imposition practised on them. A general
meeting was called, and a committee appointed to go to New York and
demand indemnification of the acting agent for the Scioto Company,
while another committee was to appeal to President Washington for a
redress of their grievances. The result of the application to the
agent of the Scioto Company was the promise that other lands should
be secured to the emigrants in fulfilment of the engagements entered
into, and that the site of Gallipolis should be surveyed into lots,
houses erected, with defences against the Indians, and wagons and
supplies provided to convey the colonists to Ohio. Notwithstanding this
flattering report of their committee, many of them had no hope that the
promises would be fulfilled, and removed to New York, Philadelphia,
and elsewhere. As soon as wagons could be procured, the others left
Alexandria and passed through Winchester to Brownsville on the
Monongahela, where they were detained, as boats were not in readiness
to proceed. They had shanties to lodge in, but the fall rains had set
in, and they suffered many privations. Their voyage further was not a
pleasant one, the river being low, and shoals frequent; but after a
weary progress they reached the place of destination, in October, 1790,
and landed with great joy. Surveyors had been sent to lay out the town,
and workmen to build houses, and the first tree had been cut down on
the 8th of June, by Col. Robert Safford. Four rows of twenty cabins,
each with a door, windows, and wooden chimney, were put up, and as a
better sort of habitation for those of the superior class, two rows
of huts of hewn logs, a story and a half in height. Block-houses two
stories high were also erected, with a high stockade fence, forming a
sufficient fortification against attack. In one of the better cabins
was a room used for a ball-room and council chamber. As soon as the
quarters of each family were assigned, their massive chests were opened
and relieved of the ponderous contents, which were distributed in the
community.
They entered upon the new mode of life with cheerfulness and a social
spirit; they had soirées, music, and dancing regularly; some had
mingled in the higher circles abroad and had cultivated literary
tastes, and there were scientific men who had spent years of study in
the first European institutions. Few of them had ever wielded an axe,
but they did not shrink from severe labor; they cleared the forest,
prepared the soil for cultivation, and soon changed the wilderness
to a land of more inviting aspect. A corps of hunters brought in
regular supplies of game, and flour and grain were procured from
Western Pennsylvania. From the commencement of the settlement service
was performed by a Catholic priest, which was regularly attended by
the emigrants. In a short time different branches of business were
commenced, retail stores opened, and manufactures offered for sale and
carried to other places.
In the spring of 1791, a party was sent out to explore the lands
from Gallipolis to the confluence of the Big Scioto with the Ohio. A
keel-boat was chartered and a crew obtained, with hunters, spies, and
scouts, making a formidable appearance with their camp equipage and war
accoutrements, while the colonists assembled to bid them adieu. They
reached the mouth of the Big Scioto by the aid of poles, pikes, &c.,
ascended it about a mile, and encamped near the site of the court-house
in Portsmouth. The country was then explored, and the lands examined
along the banks of the river; the hunters bringing in abundance of
deer, turkeys, and other game. On their return to Gallipolis, their
report was joyfully received, and hope was entertained that the Scioto
company would yet put the colonists in possession of the lands they had
purchased.
It was now announced that a hostile band of Indians had been prowling
in the neighborhood; one emigrant was killed and two were taken
prisoners, while several horses and cattle were carried off. A
defensive force was organized, and on application to the Secretary
of War, assistance was sent. Few further depredations, however, were
committed by the Indians, though they came occasionally to peep at
the dances of the colonists, and the settlement continued for so long
a time to enjoy immunity from attack, that it was supposed that the
savages entertained unusually friendly feelings towards the French.
After the victories of Gen. Wayne and the establishment of peace, a
free intercourse was maintained between the residents at Gallipolis
and the colonists from Massachusetts living at Marietta. The former
soon became convinced that the agents of the Scioto Company could never
secure them in the possession of their lands, and after some further
endeavors to procure redress by prosecuting their claims, they were
obliged to give up the hope of having their rights conceded. In a
negotiation afterwards with the Ohio Company, many of the settlers were
disappointed, and feeling themselves deceived, left the settlement,
reducing the numbers of those remaining to about three hundred. A
petition to Congress for an appropriation of lands for their benefit,
presented by M. Gervais, resulted in the grant of twenty thousand
acres, to be equally divided among the French emigrants living at
Gallipolis at a certain time, under conditions that secured their
settling there for some years. Other grants were afterwards made to
other colonists opposite and below the mouth of Little Sandy River in
Kentucky. Improvements in the lands went on: apple and peach orchards
were planted, and the cider and brandy manufactured became a source of
revenue. New emigrants came in, and in 1803, Gallia county was erected,
Gallipolis being the county seat.
So interesting and romantic is the story of this settlement by the
French, that no apology will be necessary for connecting the narrative
with a brief notice of a remarkable woman, remembered by all the old
inhabitants of Gallipolis, and throughout Western Virginia, and known
by name to almost every child in the country. She was sometimes called
“Mad Ann,” and was a terror to refractory urchins. Her maiden name was
Hennis. She was born at Liverpool, married Richard Trotter at the age
of thirty, and came with him to the American colonies; both, on account
of poverty, being “sold out” to service, according to custom, for
the payment of the passage money, to a gentleman in Augusta county,
Virginia. Having served him faithfully for the stipulated time, they
became settlers.
The frontier having suffered much from Indian attacks, in the summer
of 1774, Lord Dunmore, governor of Virginia, collected forces for an
expedition against the Indian towns on the Scioto. Gen. Lewis, who
had signalized himself in the field of Braddock’s defeat, was ordered
to march with his division to the junction of the Great Kanawha with
the Ohio. Richard Trotter was a volunteer in his force. Lewis halted
on the ground now occupied by the village of Point Pleasant, to await
further communications from the commander-in-chief; but before his men
could erect defences, except a few fallen trees, the scouts came into
camp with intelligence that an army of Indian warriors was in their
immediate vicinity. The troops were put in battle array, and in a very
short time, on the morning of the 10th of October, a general engagement
took place, in which the Virginians suffered great loss, though the
Indians retreated. Among those engaged in this memorable battle, we
find the names of Shelby, Sevier, and James Robertson.
Trotter was killed in this battle. From the period of his death, a
strange and wild spirit seemed to possess the widow, who frequently
expressed her hatred of the Indians, and her determination to have
revenge. The opinion entertained by her neighbors that her intellects
were somewhat disordered, was confirmed by her entire abandonment of
all feminine employments. She no longer sewed, spun, or attended to
household or garden concerns, but practised with the rifle, slung
the tomahawk, and rode about the country attending every muster of
soldiers. She even in part discarded female attire, and was seen clad
in a hunting-shirt and moccasins, wearing her knife and tomahawk, and
carrying her gun. Her manly spirit and resolve to avenge the death of
her husband did not prevent her contracting a second alliance, and
it was as Ann Bailey that, several years afterwards, she followed a
body of soldiers sent to garrison a fort on the Great Kanawha, where
Charleston is now located. The men often practised shooting at a
target, and Ann, ambitious to display her skill, would contend with
the best marksmen and sometimes carry off the prize. At parade she
handled fire-arms with the expertness of a warrior, and the rifle was
her constant companion. Howe, in his historical work on Virginia,
mentions that she frequently acted as a messenger, carrying letters
from the fort to Point Pleasant, and that she generally rode on
horseback, with a rifle over her shoulder, and a knife and tomahawk in
her belt. At night she would encamp in the woods, letting her horse
go free, and then walking back some distance on the trail to escape
discovery by the vigilant savages.
Marauding parties of Indians were often seen in the valley of the
Kanawha, and the Virginians doubted not their intention of making a
desperate effort to dislodge them from this favorite hunting-ground.
A runner was sent from Capt. Arbuckle, at Point Pleasant, to Capt.
Clendenin, the commander of the garrison, with information that a
hundred or more Indian warriors had been seen the day previous crossing
the Ohio at Racoon Island, some ten miles below. It was supposed their
design was to attack the fort at Charleston, or at Big Levels, in
Greenbrier county. All the inhabitants around were immediately gathered
into the fort.
At this crisis the terrible fact was announced that their ammunition
was nearly exhausted. It was determined to send immediately to Camp
Union, now Lewisburg, for a supply; but few men could be spared from
the fort, and none was willing to encounter, with a small party, the
perils of a hundred miles’ journey through a trackless forest. Mrs.
Bailey heard of the difficulty, and instantly offered her services,
saying she would go alone. Her acquaintance with the country, her
excellent horsemanship, her perseverance, and fearless spirit, were
well known, and the commander of the garrison at length yielded to
her solicitation. A good horse was furnished her, with a stock of
jerked venison and johnny-cake; she set her face towards Greenbrier,
armed with rifle, etc., and resolutely overcoming every obstacle in
the ruggedness of the way through the woods, the mountains she had to
cross, and the rivers to swim, undaunted by the perils threatening from
wild beasts and straggling parties of Indians, she reached Camp Union
in safety, delivered her orders, and being provided with a led horse
fully laden, as well as her own, set forward on her return.
She used to relate how her trail was followed for hours together by
wolves, watching for an opportunity to attack her horses. When night
set in she was compelled to make large fires to keep the wild beasts
at bay. To protect herself in slumber from the danger of rattlesnakes
and copperheads, which infested the wilderness, she had to construct a
pioneer bedstead every night, by driving into the ground four forked
sticks about three feet high, adjust upon them other sticks to serve as
bed rails and slats, and overlay them with a quantity of green boughs,
her blanket serving as a musquito bar. Thus she would sleep amidst
the howling of wolves, the screaming of panthers, and the buzzing
of troublesome insects; at break of day replacing the loads on her
horses, and resuming her journey, her simple breakfast being eaten on
horseback. She arrived in safety with her supplies at the fort. It is
said that the premeditated attack was made the very next day, and that
the Indians were repulsed after a severe conflict. Mrs. Bailey was
actively employed during the siege, and tradition says, fired several
times upon the assailants. She always insisted that she had killed one
Indian at least, and thus accomplished her revenge. The commandant has
been heard to say that the fort could not have been saved without the
timely supply of ammunition, thus giving the credit to Mrs. Bailey’s
exploit, which indeed is scarcely paralleled even among the many
instances of heroism that abound in the history of the Revolutionary
war.
After the troubles with the Indians were over, Mrs. Bailey still
retained her singular habits. She spent much of her time in fishing
and hunting, and would shoot deer and bears with the expertness of a
backwoodsman. In person she was short and stout, and of coarse and
masculine appearance, and she seldom wore a full woman’s dress, having
on usually a skirt with a man’s coat over it, and buckskin leggins.
The services she rendered in the war had greatly endeared her to the
people, and her eccentricities were regarded with an indulgence
that would not have been extended to one who had no such claims to
gratitude. She annually visited many of the people of West Virginia,
and received presents in clothing and other articles. Gen. Newsom
recollects seeing her in his boyhood, passing from the Kanawha Valley
to the counties near the Alleghanies, and returning with her horse
laden with gifts from those who remembered her achievement. Thus “Mad
Ann” and her black horse, which she called “Liverpool” in honor of her
birthplace, were always greeted with a smile of welcome wherever she
chose to stop. When her son came to Ohio, where he owned a large body
of land, she came with him, and lived a few miles from Gallipolis. Here
she was accustomed to wander about the country, received by all as a
privileged visitor, and supplied according to her need. She seldom
failed, whenever there was a muster of the militia, to attend, armed
like a soldier, and march in the ranks. “Not a man of them would have
put her out,” said the General, in recounting the narrative. She loved
solitude, and spent most of her time alone, but often gathered the
neighbors around her to relate the story of her adventures. It must
be added that among her masculine habits she had that of drinking
occasionally, and that she sometimes exercised her skill in boxing, an
accomplishment in which she was well versed. She could read and write,
and seems to have possessed an unusual share of intelligence for one of
her station in life.
A gentleman residing in Nashville, said he had seen her frequently
near Point Pleasant, about the year 1810 or 1811. She called her gun
and canoe “Liverpool,” as well as her horse. She often took it upon
herself to enforce the keeping of the Sabbath by taking up such boys
as she found wandering about on that day, and compelling them to sit
around her in a cabin, while she opened school exercises for their
instruction, greatly to the terror of the delinquents. The gentleman
referred to said he was chased by her some distance on one of these
occasions, and though lamed by a bruise on his foot, ran as for dear
life, having made his escape by jumping out of the window of the hut
where she had imprisoned a number of boys.
Mrs. Bailey’s life was prolonged far beyond the ordinary limits;
according to her own account, she numbered several years over a
century. Her death took place in 1825. The place of her burial is on
a lonely hill near her son’s residence, in the solitude of the woods,
unmarked by a headstone. Gen. Newsom suggests that her remains should
be removed by the citizens of Virginia to the spot where the fort stood
in Charleston, and honored by a suitable monument.
XV.
ELIZABETH HARPER.