operation of one of the first Sunday schools in the United States. Its
originator, superintendent and sole teacher, was Mrs. Andrew Lake, an
estimable lady from New York. Every Sabbath, after "Parson Storey" had
finished his public services, she collected as many of the children at
her house as would attend, and heard them recite verses from the
Scriptures, and taught them the Westminster catechism. Simple in her
manner of teaching and affable and kind in her disposition, she was able
to interest her pupils--usually about twenty in number--and to win their
affections to herself, to the school, and, subsequently, in some
instances, to the Saviour. A few, at least, of the little children that
used to sit on rude benches, low stools and the tops of meal bags, and
listen to her sacred instructions and earnest admonitions, have
doubtless ere this became pupils, with her, in the "school of Christ"
above.
THE WOMEN OF WYOMING.
The guardians of the land.
HOLMES.
Justice and gratitude, writes Miner,[25] "demand a tribute to the
praiseworthy spirit of the wives and daughters of Wyoming. While their
husbands and fathers were on public duty, they cheerfully assumed a
large portion of the labor which females could do. They assisted to
plant, made hay, husked and garnered the corn. As the settlement was
mainly dependent on its own resources for powder, Mr. Hollenback caused
to be brought up the river a pounder; and the women took up their
floors, dug out the earth, put it in casks, and run water through
it,--as ashes are bleached:--then took ashes, in another cask, and made
ley--mixed the water from the earth with weak ley, boiled it, set it to
cool, and the saltpetre rose to the top. Charcoal and sulphur were then
used, and powder was produced for the public defence."
[25] History of Wyoming, page 212.
MARY GOULD.
Far rung the groves and gleamed the midnight grass,
With flambeau, javelin and naked arm;
As warriors wheeled their culverins of brass,
Sprung from the woods a bold athletic mass,
Whom virtue fires and liberty combines.
CAMPBELL.
Such is the power of mighty love.
DRYDEN.
Early in the evening of the third day of July, 1778--the date of the
memorable Wyoming massacre--Mrs. Mary Gould, wife of James Gould, with
the other females remaining in the village of Wyoming, sought safety in
the fort. In the haste and confusion attending this act, she left a boy
of hers about four years old, behind. Obeying the instincts of a mother,
and turning a deaf ear to the admonitions of friends, she started off on
a perilous search for the missing one. It was dark; she was alone, and
the foe was lurking around; but the agonies of death could not exceed
her agonies of suspense; so she hastened on. She traversed the fields
which, but a few hours before,
"Were trampled by the hurrying crowd;"
where
"--fiery hearts and armed hands
Encountered in the battle cloud,"
and where unarmed hands were now resting on cold and motionless hearts.
After a search of between one and two hours, she found her child on the
bank of the river, sporting with a little band of playmates. Clasping
the jewel in her arms, she hurried back and reached the fort in safety.
THE MOTHER OF PRESIDENT POLK.
Holy as heaven a mother's tender love!
The love of many prayers, and many tears,
Which changes not with dim, declining years.
MRS. NORTON.
The late President Folk's mother, who died at Columbia, Tennessee, in
the winter of 1851-2, was a member of the Presbyterian church, a highly
exemplary Christian, and a faithful mother. The lessons which she taught
her son in youth, were not forgotten when he had arrived at manhood, and
risen to the highest office in the gift of a free and sovereign people.
A single anecdote will show the abiding recollection and influence of
her teachings.
A gentleman, who once visited Mr. Polk at the White House, remarked to
him that his respect for the Sabbath was highly gratifying to the
religious sentiment of the country; whereupon he made the following
reply: "I was taught by a pious mother to fear God, and keep his
commandments, and I trust that no cares of a government of my own, will
ever tempt me to forget what I owe to the government of God."
TRIALS OF A PATRIOT.
Press on! if fortune play thee false
To-day, to-morrow she 'll be true.
PARK BENJAMIN.
During the latter part of the Revolution, Thomas McCalla lived in
Chester district, South Carolina. He removed thither from Pennsylvania,
with his young wife, in 1778. He was a whole-hearted whig; served in the
American army before moving to the south, and again enlisted soon after
reaching his new home. He was in all the engagements attending Sumter's
operations against the enemy, till the seventeenth of August, 1780,
when, by permission, he went to visit his family. A short time
afterwards he again joined the fighting men, but was almost immediately
taken prisoner, sent to Camden, thrown into jail and threatened daily
with hanging. The persevering and heroic endeavors of his affectionate
and patriotic wife, to obtain his release, are detailed in the following
interesting manner by the author of the Women of the Revolution:
While this brave man was languishing in prison, expecting death from day
to day, his wife remained in the most unhappy state of suspense. For
about a month she was unable to obtain any tidings of him. The rumor of
Sumter's surprise, and that of Steel, came to her ears; she visited the
places where those disasters had occurred, and sought for some trace of
him, but without success. She inquired, in an agony of anxiety, of the
women who had been to Charlotte for the purpose of carrying clothes or
provisions to their husbands, brothers, or fathers, not knowing but that
he had gone thither with the soldiers; but none could give her the least
information. Imagination may depict the harrowing scenes that must have
passed, when females returning to their homes and children after
carrying aid to the soldiers, were met by such inquiries from those who
were uncertain as to the fate of their kindred. To these hapless
sufferers no consolation availed, and too often was their suspense
terminated by more afflicting certainty.
In the midst of Mrs. McCalla's distress, and before she had gained any
information, she was called to another claim on her anxiety; her
children took the small-pox. John was very ill for nine days with the
disease, and his mother thought every day would be his last. During this
terrible season of alarm, while her mind was distracted by cares, she
had to depend altogether upon herself, for she saw but one among her
neighbors. All the families in the vicinity were visited with the
disease, and to many it proved fatal. As soon as her child was so far
recovered as to be considered out of danger, Mrs. McCalla made
preparations to go to Camden. She felt convinced that it was her duty to
do so, for she clung to the hope that she might there learn something
of her husband, or even find him among the prisoners.
With her to resolve was to act, and having set her house in order, she
was in the saddle long before day, taking the old Charleston road
leading down on the west side of the Catawba river. The mountain gap on
Wateree creek was passed ere the sun rose, and by two o'clock she had
crossed the river, passing the guard there stationed, and entered
Camden. Pressing on with fearless determination, she passed the guard,
and desiring to be conducted to the presence of Lord Rawdon, was
escorted by Major Doyle to the head-quarters of that commander. His
Lordship then occupied a large, ancient looking house on the east side
of the main street. The old site of the town is now in part deserted,
and that building left standing alone some four hundred yards from any
other, as if the memories associated with it had rendered the
neighborhood undesirable. It was here that haughty and luxurious
nobleman fixed his temporary residence, "sitting as a monarch," while so
many true-hearted unfortunates, whose fate hung on his will, were
languishing out their lives in prison, or atoning for their patriotism
on the scaffold.
Into the presence of this august personage Mrs. McCalla was conducted by
the British major. Her impression at first sight was favorable; he was a
fine looking young man, with a countenance not unprepossessing, which we
may suppose was eagerly searched for the traces of human sympathy by one
who felt that all her hopes depended on him. His aspect gave her some
encouragement, and being desired to explain the object of her visit, she
pleaded her cause with the eloquence of nature and feeling; making known
the distressed situation of her family at home, the fearful anxiety of
mind she had suffered on account of the prolonged absence of her husband
and her ignorance of his fate, and her children's urgent need of his
care and protection. From Major Doyle she had at length learned that he
was held a prisoner by his lordship's orders. She had come, therefore,
to entreat mercy for him; to pray that he might be released and
permitted to go home with her. This appeal to compassion she made with
all the address in her power, nor was the untaught language of distress
wanting in power to excite pity in any feeling heart.
Lord Rawdon heard her to the end. His reply was characteristic. "I would
rather hang such ---- rebels than eat my breakfast." This insulting
speech was addressed to his suppliant while her eyes were fixed on him
in the agony of her entreaty, and the tears were streaming down her
cheeks. His words dried up the fountain at once, and the spirit of the
American matron was roused. "Would you?" was her answer, while she
turned on him a look of the deepest scorn. A moment after, with a
struggle to control her feelings, for she well knew how much depended on
that--she said, "I crave of your lordship permission to see my husband."
The haughty chief felt the look of scorn his cruel language had called
up in her face, for his own conscience bore testimony against him, but
pride forbade his yielding to the dictates of better feeling. "You
should consider, madam," he answered, "in whose presence you now stand.
Your husband is a rebel----"
Mrs. McCalla was about to reply--but her companion, the Major, gave her
a look warning her to be silent, and in truth the words that sprang to
her lips would have ill pleased the Briton. Doyle now interposed, and
requested his lordship to step aside with him for a moment. They left
the apartment, and shortly afterwards returned. Rawdon then said to his
visitor, with a stately coldness that precluded all hope of softening
his determination: "Major Doyle, madam, has my permission to let you go
into the prison. You may continue in the prison _ten minutes only_.
Major, you have my orders." So saying, he bowed politely both to her and
the officer, as intimating that the business was ended, and they were
dismissed. They accordingly quitted the room.
* * * * *
The sight of the prison-pen almost overcame the fortitude of the
resolute wife. An enclosure like that constructed for animals, guarded
by soldiers, was the habitation of the unfortunate prisoners, who sate
within on the bare earth, many of them suffering with the prevalent
distemper, and stretched helpless on the ground, with no shelter from
the burning sun of September. "Is it possible," cried the matron,
turning to Doyle, "that you shut up men in this manner, as you would a
parcel of hogs!" She was then admitted into the jail, and welcome indeed
was the sight of her familiar face to McCalla. The time allotted for the
interview was too short to be wasted in condolement or complaint; she
told him she must depart in a few minutes, informed him of the state of
his family--inquired carefully what were his wants, and promised speedy
relief. When the ten minutes had expired, she again shook hands with
him, assuring him she would shortly return with clothes for his use, and
what provisions she could bring, then turning walked away with a firm
step, stopping to shake hands with young John Adair and the other
captives with whom she was acquainted. The word of encouragement was not
wanting, and as she bade the prisoners adieu, she said: "Have no fear;
the women are doing their part of the service." "I admire your spirit,
madam," Doyle observed to her, "but must request you to be a little more
cautious."
Mrs. McCalla was furnished by the Major with a pass, which she showed to
the officer on duty as she passed the guard on her return, and to the
officer at the ferry. She rode with all speed, and was at home before
midnight; having had less than twenty-four hours for the accomplishment
of her whole enterprise; in that time riding one hundred miles, crossing
the river twice, and passing the guard four times--visiting her husband,
and having the interview with Lord Rawdon, in which probably for the
first time in his life he felt uneasiness from a woman's rebuke. It
convinced him that even in the breast of woman a spirit of independence
might dwell, which no oppression could subdue, and before which brute
force must quail, as something of superior nature. How must the
unexpected outbreaking of this spirit, from time to time, have dismayed
those who imagined it was crushed forever throughout the conquered
province!
It is proper to say that Mrs. McCalla met with kinder treatment from the
other British officers to whom she had occasion to apply at this time,
for they were favorably impressed by the courage and strength of
affection evinced by her. Even the soldiers, as she passed them, paid
her marks of respect. The tories alone showed no sympathy nor pity for
her trials; it being constantly observed that there was deeper hostility
towards the whigs on the part of their countrymen of different politics,
than those of English birth.
Mrs. McCalla began her work immediately after her arrival at home;
making new clothes, altering and mending others, and preparing
provisions. Her preparations being completed, she again set out for
Camden. This time she had the company of one of her neighbors, Mrs. Mary
Nixon. Each of the women drove before her a pack-horse, laden with the
articles provided for the use of their suffering friends. They were
again admitted to the presence of Lord Rawdon to petition for leave to
visit the prisoners, but nothing particular occurred at the interview.
His lordship treated the matron who had offended him with much
haughtiness, and she on her part felt for him a contempt not the less
strong that it was not openly expressed. From this time she made her
journeys about once a month to Camden, carrying clean clothes and
provisions; being often accompanied by other women bound on similar
errands, and conveying articles of food and clothing to their captive
fathers, husbands, or brothers. They rode without escort, fearless of
peril by the way, and regardless of fatigue, though the journey was
usually performed in haste, and under the pressure of anxiety for those
at home as well as those to whose relief they were going. On one
occasion, when Mrs. McCalla was just about setting off alone upon her
journey, news of a glorious event was brought to her; the news of the
battle of King's Mountain, which took place on the seventh of October.
She did not stop to rejoice in the victory of her countrymen, but went
on with a lightened heart, longing, no doubt, to share the joy with him
who might hope, from the changed aspect of affairs, some mitigation of
his imprisonment.
... About the first of December, Mrs. McCalla went again to Camden. On
the preceding trip she had met with Lord Cornwallis, by whom she was
treated with kindness. Whatever hopes she had grounded on this, however,
were doomed to disappointment; he was this time reserved and silent. She
was afterwards informed by the Major that a considerable reverse had
befallen his majesty's troops at Clermont, and the annoyance felt on
this account--Doyle said--was the cause of his not showing as much
courtesy as he usually did to ladies. "You must excuse him," observed
the good-natured officer, who seems to have always acted the part of a
peacemaker on these occasions; and he added that Cornwallis had never
approved of the cruelties heretofore practised.
Towards the last of December the indefatigable wife again performed the
weary journey to Camden. McCalla's health had been impaired for some
months, and was now declining; it was therefore necessary to make a
strenuous effort to move the compassion of his enemies, and procure his
release. Rawdon was in command, and she once more applied to him to
obtain permission for her husband to go home with her. As might have
been anticipated, her petition was refused: his lordship informed her
that he could do nothing in the premises; but that if she would go to
Winnsboro' and present her request to Lord Cornwallis, he might possibly
be induced to give her an order for the liberation of the prisoner.
To Winnsboro', accordingly, she made her way, determined to lose no time
in presenting her application. It was on New Year's morning that she
entered the village. The troops were under parade, and his lordship was
engaged in reviewing them; there could be no admission, therefore, to
his presence for some time, and she had nothing to do but remain a
silent spectator of the imposing scene. A woman less energetic, and less
desirous of improving every opportunity for the good of others, might
have sought rest after the fatigues of her journey, during the hours her
business had to wait; Sarah McCalla was one of heroic stamp, whose
private troubles never caused her to forget what she might do for her
country. She passed the time in noticing particularly every thing she
saw, not knowing but that her report might do service. After the lapse
of several hours, the interview she craved with Cornwallis was granted.
He received her with courtesy and kindness, listened attentively to all
she had to say, and appeared to feel pity for her distresses. But his
polished expression of sympathy, to which her hopes clung with
desperation, was accompanied with regret that he could not, consistently
with the duties of his Majesty's service, comply unconditionally with
her request. He expressed, nevertheless, entire willingness to enter
into an exchange with General Sumter, releasing McCalla for any prisoner
he had in his possession. Or he would accept the pledge of General
Sumter that McCalla should not again serve until exchanged, and would
liberate him on that security. "But, madam," he added, "it is Sumter
himself who must stand pledged for the keeping of the parole. We have
been too lenient heretofore, and have let men go who immediately made
use of their liberty to take up arms against us."
With this the long-tried wife was forced to be content, and she now saw
the way clear to the accomplishment of her enterprise. She lost no time
in returning home, and immediately set out for Charlotte to seek aid
from the American general. She found Sumter at this place, nearly
recovered of the wounds he had received in the action at Blackstock's,
in November. Her appeal to him was at once favorably received. He gave
her a few lines, stating that he would stand pledged for McCalla's
continuance at home peaceably until he should be regularly exchanged.
This paper was more precious than gold to the matron whose perseverance
had obtained it; but it was destined to do her little good. She now made
the best of her way homeward. After crossing the Catawba, she
encountered the army of General Morgan, was stopped, being suspected to
be a tory, and taken into his presence for examination. The idea that
she could be thus suspected afforded her no little amusement, and she
permitted the mistake to continue for some time, before she produced the
paper in Sumter's hand-writing which she well knew would remove every
difficulty. She then informed the General of her visit to Winnsboro' on
the first of January, and her sight of the review of the troops. Morgan
thanked her for the information and dismissed her, and without further
adventure she arrived at her own house.
A few days after her return, the British army, being on its march from
Winnsboro', encamped on the plantation of John Service, in Chester
district, and afterwards at Turkey creek. Mrs. McCalla went to one of
those camps in the hope of seeing Lord Cornwallis. She succeeded in
obtaining this privilege; his lordship recognised her as soon as she
entered the camp, and greeted her courteously, questioning her as to her
movements, and making many inquiries about Sumter and Morgan. On this
last point she was on her guard, communicating no more information than
she felt certain could give the enemy no manner of advantage, nor
subject her friends to inconvenience. At length she presented to the
noble Briton the paper which she imagined would secure her husband's
freedom. What was her disappointment when he referred her to Lord
Rawdon, as the proper person to take cognizance of the affair! The very
name was a death-blow to her hopes, for she well knew she could expect
nothing from his clemency. Remonstrance and entreaty were alike in vain;
Cornwallis was a courteous man, but he knew how, with a bland smile and
well-turned phrase of compliment, to refuse compliance even with a
request that appealed so strongly to every feeling of humanity, as that
of an anxious wife pleading for the suffering and imprisoned father of
her children. She must submit, however, to the will of those in power;
there was no resource but another journey to Camden, in worse than doubt
of the success she had fancied just within her reach.
It was a day or two after the battle of the Cowpens that she crossed the
ferry on her way to Camden. She had not yet heard of that bloody action,
but, observing that the guard was doubled at the ferry, concluded that
something unusual had occurred. As she entered the village, she met her
old friend Major Doyle, who stopped to speak to her. His first inquiry
was if she had heard the news; and when she answered in the negative, he
told her of the "melancholy affair" that had occurred at the Cowpens.
The time, he observed, was most inauspicious for the business on which
he knew she had come. "I fear, madam," he said, "that his lordship will
not treat you well."
"I have no hope," was her answer, "that he will let Thomas go home; but,
sir, it is my duty to make efforts to save my husband. I will thank you
to go with me to Lord Rawdon's quarters."
Her reception was such as she had expected. As soon as Rawdon saw her,
he cried angrily, "You here again, madam! Well--you want your husband--I
dare say! Do you not know what the ---- rebels have been doing?"
"I do not, sir," replied the dejected matron, for she saw that his mood
was one of fury.
"If we had hung them," he continued, "we should have been saved this.
Madam! I order you most positively never to come into my presence
again!"
It was useless, Mrs. McCalla knew, to attempt to stem the tide; she did
not therefore produce, nor even mention the paper given her by Sumter,
nor apologise for the intrusion by saying that Lord Cornwallis had
directed her to apply to him; but merely answered in a subdued and
respectful tone by asking what she had done.
"Enough!" exclaimed the irritated noble. "You go from one army to
another, and Heaven only knows what mischief you do! Begone."
She waited for no second dismissal, but could not refrain from saying,
as she went out, in an audible voice, "My countrymen must right me."
Lord Rawdon called her back and demanded what she was saying. She had
learned by this time some lessons in policy, and answered, with a smile,
"We are but simple country folk." His lordship probably saw through the
deceit, for turning to his officer, he said, "Upon my life, Doyle, she
is a wretch of a woman!" And thus she left him.