in need of it. We had laid down by our fire, and about ten o'clock
there came a most terrible earthquake, which shook the earth so, that
we were rocked about like we had been in a cradle. We were very much
alarmed; for though we were accustomed to feel earthquakes, we were
now right in the region which had been torn to pieces by them in 1812,
and we thought it might take a notion and swallow us up, like the big
fish did Jonah.
In the morning we packed up and moved to the harricane, where we made
another camp, and turned out that evening and killed a very large
bear, which made _eight_ we had now killed in this hunt.
The next morning we entered the harricane again, and in little or no
time my dogs were in full cry. We pursued them, and soon came to a
thick cane-brake in which they had stopp'd their bear. We got up close
to him, as the cane was so thick that we couldn't see more than a few
feet. Here I made my friend hold the cane a little open with his gun
till I shot the bear, which was a mighty large one. I killed him dead
in his tracks. We got him out and butchered him, and in a little time
started another and killed him, which now made ten we had killed and
we know'd we couldn't pack any more home, as we had only five horses
along; therefore we returned to the camp and salted up all our meat,
to be ready for a start homeward next morning.
The morning came and we packed our horses with the meat, and had as
much as they could possibly carry, and sure enough cut out for home.
It was about thirty miles, and we reached home the second day. I
. . . had killed in all, up to that time, fifty-eight bears, during
the fall and winter.
As soon as the time came for them to quit their houses and come out
again in the spring, I took a notion to hunt a little more, and in
about one month I had killed forty-seven more, which made one hundred
and five bears I had killed in less than one year from that
time. . . .
Motto.--Be sure you are right--then go ahead.
RICHARD HENRY WILDE.
~1789=1847.~
RICHARD HENRY WILDE was a native of Ireland but was brought to this
country when a child of nine. His father died in 1802 and the widowed
mother took up her residence in Augusta, Georgia. He studied law and
became a successful practitioner. He was Attorney-General of the
State, and served also in the Legislature and in Congress. He spent
the years 1834-40 in Europe studying chiefly Italian literature; in
his researches he discovered some old documents relating to Dante and
a portrait of him painted by Giotto on a wall which had become covered
over with whitewash. On his return to America he settled in New
Orleans and became professor of Law in the University of Louisiana. He
died there of yellow fever.
He began an epic poem, suggested by the life and adventures of his
brother, James Wilde, in the Seminole war. But it was never finished:
all that remains of it now is the fine lyric, "My Life is Like the
Summer Rose." This song was translated by Anthony Barclay into Greek
and announced to be a newly discovered ode of Alcaeus. This claim was
soon disproved by the scholars, and to Mr. Wilde was given his due
meed of poetic authorship. It appears in Stedman's "Library of
American Literature," as dedicated to Mrs. White-Beatty, daughter of
Gen. John Adair, of Ky., the beautiful "Florida White" of "Casa
Bianca," Florida.--See Life, Labors, and Grave of Wilde, by C. C.
Jones, Jr.
WORKS.
Conjectures and Researches concerning the Love, Madness, and
Imprisonment of Tasso, (containing translations of poems.)
Petrarch.
Poems, original and translated.
Life of Dante, [unfinished.]
Hesperia.
MY LIFE IS LIKE THE SUMMER ROSE.
My life is like the summer rose,
That opens to the morning sky,
And ere the shades of evening close,
Is scattered on the ground to die;
Yet on that rose's humble bed
The sweetest dews of night are shed
As though she wept such waste to see;
But none shall weep a tear for me!
My life is like the autumn leaf
Which trembles in the moon's pale ray,
Its hold is frail, its date is brief,
Restless, and soon to pass away;
Yet when that leaf shall fall and fade,
The parent tree will mourn its shade,
The wind bewail the leafless tree;
But none shall breathe a sigh for me!
My life is like the prints which feet
Have left on Tampa's desert strand,
Soon as the rising tide shall beat
Their trace will vanish from the sand;
Yet still as grieving to efface
All vestige of the human race,
On that lone shore loud moans the sea;
But none, alas! shall mourn for me!
AUGUSTUS BALDWIN LONGSTREET.
~1790=1870.~
AUGUSTUS BALDWIN LONGSTREET was born in Augusta, Georgia. He became
first a lawyer and was elected to the State Legislature in 1821 and
judge of the Superior Court in 1822. Later he became a clergyman in
the Methodist Church and president of Emory College, Georgia, being
afterwards successively president of Centenary College, Louisiana, of
the University of Mississippi, and of South Carolina College.
His best-known book, "Georgia Scenes," seems in his later days to have
troubled his conscience and he tried to suppress it entirely. But
sketches so amusing and so true to life would not be suppressed. See
Sketch in Miss Rutherford's American Authors, (Atlanta).
WORKS.
Essays and Articles in various magazines.
Letters to Clergymen of the Northern Methodist Church.
Letters from Georgia to Massachusetts.
Georgia Scenes, Characters, Incidents, in First Half Century of
the Republic, by a Native Georgian.
Master William Mitten.
NED BRACE AT CHURCH.
(_From Georgia Scenes, first edition, 1835._[9])
[Ned Brace was a real personage, Judge Edmund Bacon,
born in Virginia, 1776, lived in Edgefield, South
Carolina, and died there in 1826. He was of very social,
hospitable nature, a practical joker, and, as Dr. Maxcy
called him, "a perfect Garrick" in his conversation. He
was a lawyer of great ability, and when very young and a
student at Augusta he was appointed to deliver an
address of welcome to Washington on his Southern tour.
If the following anecdotes are not true, they might well
have been, as Judge Longstreet says.]
This being the Sabbath, at the usual hour Ned went to Church, and
selected for his morning service one of those Churches in which the
pews are free, and in which the hymn is given out and sung by the
congregation, a half recitative.
Ned entered the Church, in as fast a walk as he could possibly assume;
proceeded about half down the aisle, and popped himself down in his
seat as quick as if he had been shot. The more thoughtless of the
congregation began to titter, and the graver peeped up slily, but
solemnly at him.
The pastor rose, and, before giving out the hymn, observed that
_singing_ was a part of the service, in which he thought the whole
congregation ought to join. Thus saying, he gave out the first lines
of the hymn. As soon as the tune was raised, Ned struck in, with one
of the loudest, hoarsest, and most discordant voices that ever annoyed
a solemn assembly.
"I would observe," said the preacher, before giving out the next two
lines, "that there are some people who have not the gift of singing;
such, of course, are not expected to sing."
Ned took the hint and sang no more; but his entrance into church, and
his entrance into the hymn, had already dispersed the solemnity of
three fifths of the congregation.
As soon as the pastor commenced his sermon, Ned opened his eyes, threw
back his head, dropt his under jaw, and surrendered himself to the
most intense interest. The preacher was an indifferent one; and by as
much as he became dull and insipid, by so much did Ned become absorbed
in his discourse. And yet it was impossible for the nicest observer to
detect anything in his looks or manner, short of the most solemn
devotion. The effect which his conduct had upon the congregation, and
their subsequent remarks, must be left to the imagination of the
reader. I give but one remark: "Bless that good man who came in the
church so quick," said a venerable matron as she left the church
door, "how he was affected by the _sarment_."
Ned went to church no more on that day. About four o'clock in the
afternoon, while he was standing at the tavern door, a funeral
procession passed by, at the foot of which, and singly, walked one of
the smallest men I ever saw. As soon as he came opposite the door, Ned
stepped out and joined him with great solemnity. The contrast between
the two was ludicrously striking, and the little man's looks and
uneasiness plainly showed that he felt it. However, he soon became
reconciled to it. They proceeded but a little way before Ned inquired
of his companion who was dead.
"Mr. Noah Bills," said the little man.
"Nan?" said Ned, raising his hand to his ear in token of deafness, and
bending his head to the speaker.
"Mr. Noah Bills," repeated the little man, loud enough to disturb the
two couples immediately before him.
"Mrs. Noel's Bill!" said Ned with mortification and astonishment. "Do
the white persons pay such respect to niggers in Savannah? _I_ sha'n't
do it." So saying, he left the procession.
The little man was at first considerably nettled; but upon being left
to his own reflections, he got into an uncontrollable fit of laughter,
as did the couple immediately in advance of him, who overheard Ned's
remark. The procession now exhibited a most mortifying spectacle--the
head of it in mourning and in tears, and the foot of it convulsed with
laughter.
A SAGE CONVERSATION.
(_From Georgia Scenes, first edition, 1835._)
[Three old women over their pipes.]
_Mrs. Shad._--The old man likes a joke yet right well, the old man
does; but he's a mighty good man, and I think he prays with greater
libity, than most any one of his age I most ever seed,--don't you
think he does, Mis' Reed?
_Mrs. Reed._--Powerful.
_Mrs. Barney._.--Who did he marry?
_Mrs. Shad._--Why, he married--stop, I'll tell you directly--Why, what
does make my old head forget so?
_Mrs. Barney._--Well, it seems to me I don't remember like I used to.
Didn't he marry a Ramsbottom?
_Mrs. Reed._--No. Stay, I'll tell you who he married presently. Oh,
stay! Why I'll tell you who he married! He married old daddy Johnny
Hooer's da'ter, Mournin'.
_Mrs. Shad._--Why, la! messy on me, so he did!
_Mrs. Barney._--Why, did he marry a Hooer?
_Mrs. Shad._--Why, to be sure he did.--You knew Mournin'.
_Mrs. Barney._--Oh, mighty well; but I'd forgot that brother Smith
married her. I really thought he married a Ramsbottom.
_Mrs. Reed._--Oh no, bless your soul, honey, he married Mournin'.
_Mrs. Barney._--Well, the law me, I'm clear beat!
_Mrs. Shad._--Oh, it's so, you may be sure it is.
_Mrs. Barney._--Emph, emph, emph, emph! And brother Smith married
Mournin' Hooer! Well, I'm clear put out! Seems to me I'm gettin'
mighty forgetful somehow.
_Mrs. Shad._--Oh yes, he married Mournin', and I saw her when she
joined society.
_Mrs. Barney._--Why, you don't tell me so!
_Mrs. Shad._--Oh, it's the truth. She didn't join till after she was
married, and the church took on mightily about his marrying one out of
society. But after she joined, they all got satisfied.
_Mrs. Reed._--Why, la! me, the seven stars is 'way over here!
_Mrs. Barney._--Well, let's light our pipes, and take a short smoke,
and go to bed. How did you come on raisin' chickens this year, Mis'
Shad?
_Mrs. Shad._--La messy, honey! I have had mighty bad luck. I had the
prettiest pa'sel you most ever seed, till the varment took to killin'
'em.
_Mrs. Reed and Mrs. Barney._--The varment!!
_Mrs. Shad._--Oh, dear, yes. The hawk catched a powerful sight of
them; and then the varment took to 'em, and nat'ly took 'em fore and
aft, bodily, till they left most none at all hardly. Sucky counted 'em
up t'other day, and there warn't but thirty-nine, she said, countin'
in the old speckle hen's chickens that jist come off her nest.
_Mrs. Reed and Mrs. Barney._--Humph--h--h!
_Mrs. Reed._--Well, I've had bad luck, too. Billy's hound-dogs broke
up most all my nests.
_Mrs. Barney._--Well, so they did me, Mis' Reed. I always did despise
a hound-dog upon the face of yea'th.
_Mrs. Reed._--Oh, they are the bawllinest, squallinest, thievishest
things ever was about one; but Billy will have 'em, and I think in my
soul his old Troup's the beat of all creaters I ever seed in all my
born days a-suckin' o' hen's eggs. He's clean most broke me up
entirely.
_Mrs. Shad._--The lackaday!
_Mrs. Reed._--And them that was hatched out, some took to takin' the
gaps, and some the pip, and one ailment or other, till they most all
died. . . .
_Mrs. Barney._--I reckon they must have eat something didn't agree
with them.
_Mrs. Reed._--No, they didn't, for I fed 'em every mornin' with my own
hand.
_Mrs. Barney._--Well, it's mighty curious!
A short pause ensued, which was broken by Mrs. Barney with, "And
brother Smith married Mournin' Hooer!"
FOOTNOTE:
[9] By special kindness of Mr. Charles Edgeworth Jones, Augusta, Ga.
ROBERT YOUNG HAYNE.
~1791=1839.~
ROBERT YOUNG HAYNE was born in St. Paul's Parish, Colleton District,
South Carolina, and was educated in Charleston. He became a lawyer; he
served in the war of 1812, and was in the State Legislature from 1814
to 1818. He was Attorney-General of the United States under President
Monroe, and in 1823 was elected to the Senate. His most famous speech
is that in the debate with Daniel Webster on the Right of
Nullification.
South Carolina passed the ordinance of Nullification in November,
1832, elected Mr. Hayne governor, and when President Jackson issued a
martial proclamation against her action, she prepared for war. Mr.
Clay's Tariff Compromise prevented any outbreak.
Mr. Hayne died in Asheville, North Carolina, yet in the prime of life.
See his Life by Paul Hamilton Hayne.
WORKS.
Speeches.
Mr. Hayne was one of the leaders in the stirring times in which he
lived; the extract following gives an example of his bold, fearless
eloquence, and his power in debate.
STATE SOVEREIGNTY AND LIBERTY.
(_From the Debate with Webster in the Senate, 1830._)
Sir, there have existed, in every age and in every country, two
distinct orders of men--the _lovers of freedom_ and the devoted
_advocates of power_.
The same great leading principles, modified only by the peculiarities
of manners, habits, and institutions, divided parties in the ancient
republics, animated the Whigs and Tories of Great Britain,
distinguished in our own times the Liberals and Ultras of France, and
may be traced even in the bloody struggles of unhappy Spain. Sir, when
the gallant Riego, who devoted himself and all that he possessed to
the liberties of his country, was dragged to the scaffold, followed by
the tears and lamentations of every lover of freedom throughout the
world, he perished amid the deafening cries of "Long live the absolute
King!" The people whom I represent, Mr. President, are the descendants
of those who brought with them to this country, as the most precious
of their possessions, "an ardent love of liberty"; and while that
shall be preserved, they will always be found manfully struggling
against the consolidation of the Government as the worst of
evils. . . . . .
The Senator from Massachusetts, in denouncing what he is pleased to
call the Carolina doctrine, has attempted to throw ridicule upon the
idea that a State has any constitutional remedy, by the exercise of
its sovereign authority, against "a gross, palpable, and deliberate
violation of the Constitution." He calls it "an idle" or "a ridiculous
notion," or something to that effect, and added, that it would make
the Union a "mere rope of sand." Now, sir, as the gentleman has not
condescended to enter into any examination of the question, and has
been satisfied with throwing the weight of his authority into the
scale, I do not deem it necessary to do more than to throw into the
opposite scale the authority on which South Carolina relies; and
there, for the present, I am perfectly willing to leave the
controversy. . . . . . . .
. . . The doctrine that it is the right of a State to judge of the
violations of the Constitution on the part of the Federal Government,
and to protect her citizens from the operations of unconstitutional
laws, was held by the enlightened citizens of Boston, who assembled
in Faneuil Hall, on the 25th of January, 1809. They state, in that
celebrated memorial, that "they looked only to the State Legislature,
which was competent to devise relief against the unconstitutional acts
of the General Government. That your power (say they) is adequate to
that object, is evident from the organization of the confederacy."
. . . .
[Illustration: ~University of North Carolina.~]
Thus it will be seen, Mr. President, that the South Carolina doctrine
is the Republican doctrine of '98,--that it was promulgated by the
fathers of the faith,--that it was maintained by Virginia and Kentucky
in the worst of times,--that it constituted the very pivot on which
the political revolution of that day turned,--that it embraces the
very principles, the triumph of which, at that time, saved the
Constitution "at its last gasp," and which New England statesmen were
not unwilling to adopt when they believed themselves to be the victims
of unconstitutional legislation. Sir, as to the doctrine that the
Federal Government is the exclusive judge of the extent as well as the
limitations of its power, it seems to me to be utterly perversive of
the sovereignty and independence of the States. It makes but little
difference, in my estimation, whether Congress or the Supreme Court
are invested with this power. If the Federal Government, in all, or
any, of its departments, is to prescribe the limits of its own
authority, and the States are bound to submit to the decision, and are
not to be allowed to examine and decide when the barriers of the
Constitution shall be overleaped, this is practically, "a government
without limitation of powers." The States are at once reduced to mere
petty corporations, and the people are entirely at your mercy. I have
but one word more to add. In all the efforts that have been made by
South Carolina to resist the unconstitutional laws which Congress has
extended over her, she has kept steadily in view the preservation of
the Union, by the only means by which she believes it can be long
preserved--a firm, manly, and steady resistance against
usurpation. . . . Sir, if, acting on these high motives,--if, animated
by that ardent love of liberty, which has always been the most
prominent trait in the Southern character, we should be hurried beyond
the bounds of a cold and calculating prudence; who is there, with one
noble and generous sentiment in his bosom, who would not be disposed,
in the language of Burke, to exclaim, "You must pardon something to
the spirit of liberty"?
SAM HOUSTON.
~1793=1863.~
GENERAL SAM HOUSTON, first President of Texas, was born in Rockbridge
County, Virginia, but his widowed mother removed in his childhood to
Tennessee and settled near the Cherokee Country. Here he was much with
the Indians and was adopted by a chief named Oolooteka, who called him
Coloneh (the Rover).
In 1813 he became a soldier in the Creek war and was almost fatally
wounded at the battle of Tohopeka, or Horse-shoe Bend, Alabama. In
1818 he decided to study law and went to Nashville, where he became
quite successful as a lawyer and soon received political honors, being
elected member of Congress in 1823 and governor of Tennessee in 1827.
In 1829 he left Tennessee for the West, spent three years in Arkansas
among the Cherokees who had emigrated thither, his old friend
Oolooteka being one of them; and in 1832 went to Texas, with which
State his after life is connected. He was made Commander-in-Chief of
the Texan forces in the struggle for independence against Mexico, and
by the battle of San Jacinto, 1836, he put an end to the war, and in
the same year he was elected first President of the Republic of Texas.
He was elected again in 1841 after Lamar's administration; and when in
1845 Texas became a State in the Union, he entered the United States
Senate where he served until 1859. He was governor of Texas from 1859
to 1861 and then retired to private life. He is buried at Huntsville.
He was ever a warm friend to the Indians; he was opposed to secession,
and took little interest and no part in the Confederate war, except by
allowing his oldest son to enter its service.
His life by Rev. Wm. Carey Crane, President of Baylor University,
gives a graphic account of a most interesting and independent
character; and it contains also his literary remains, consisting of
_State Papers_, _Indian Talks_, _Letters_, and _Speeches_.
CAUSE OF THE TEXAN WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.
(_From a Letter to Santa Anna, 1842._)
The people of Texas were invited to migrate to this country for the
purpose of enjoying equal rights and constitutional liberty. They were
promised the shield of the Constitution of 1824, adopted by Mexico.
Confiding in this pledge, they removed to the country to encounter all
the privations of a wilderness, under the alluring promises of free
institutions. Other reasons operated also. Citizens of the United
States had engaged in the revolution of Mexico, in 1812. They fought
gallantly in the achievement of Mexican independence, and many of them
survive, and to this day occupy the soil which their privations and
valor assisted in achieving. On their removal here, they brought with
them no aspirations or projects but such as were loyal to the
Constitution of Mexico. They repelled the Indian savages; they
encountered every discomfort; they subdued the wilderness, and
converted into cultivated fields the idle waste of this now prolific
territory. Their courage and enterprise achieved that which the
imbecility of your countrymen had either neglected, or left for
centuries unaccomplished. Their situation, however, was not
disregarded by Mexico, though she did not, as might have been
expected, extend to them a protecting and fostering care, but viewed
them as objects of cupidity, rapacity, and at last jealousy.
The Texans, enduring the annoyances and oppressions inflicted upon
them, remained faithful to the Constitution of Mexico. In 1832, when
an attempt was made to destroy that Constitution, and when you, sir,
threw yourself forward as its avowed champion, you were sustained with
all the fidelity and valor that freemen could contribute. On the
avowal of your principles, and in accordance with them, the people put
down the serviles of despotism at Anahuac, Velasco, and Nacogdoches.
They treated the captives of that struggle with humanity, and sent
them to Mexico subject to your orders. They regarded you as the friend
of liberty and free institutions; they hailed you as a benefactor of
mankind; your name and your actions were lauded, and the
manifestations you had given in behalf of the nation were themes of
satisfaction and delight to the Texan patriots.
You can well imagine the transition of feeling which ensued on your
accession to power. Your subversion of the Constitution of 1824, your
establishment of centralism, your conquest of Zacatecas, characterized
by every act of violence, cruelty, and rapine, inflicted upon us the
profoundest astonishment. We realized all the uncertainty of men
awakening to reality from the unconsciousness of delirium. In
succession came your orders for the Texans to surrender their private
arms. The mask was thrown aside and the monster of despotism displayed
in all the habiliments of loathsome detestation.