patriots throughout the country. Every where, as the news spread, men
who had before been discouraged flew to arms. The action took place on
the seventeenth of January, 1781; on the twenty-second of the same
month, six wagons were loaded with corn at Wade's island, sixty miles
down the Catawba for the use of General Davison's division. The whole
whig country of Chester, York and Lancaster may be said to have risen in
mass, and was rallying to arms. Mecklenburg, North Carolina, was again
the scene of warlike preparation; for the whigs hoped to give the enemy
another defeat at Cowans or Batisford on the Catawba. On the
twenty-fourth of January, General Sumter crossed this river at
Landsford, and received a supply of corn from Wade's island. His object
was to cross the districts to the west, in the rear of the advancing
British army, to arouse the country and gather forces as he went,
threaten the English posts at Ninety-Six and Granby, and go on to
recover the State. While Cornwallis marched from his encampment on
Service's plantation, the whigs of Chester, under the gallant Captains
John Mills and James Johnston, were hovering near, watching the
movements of the hostile army as keenly as the eagle watches his
intended prey. Choosing a fit opportunity, as they followed in the
rear, they pounced upon a couple of British officers, one of whom was
Major McCarter, at a moment when they had not the least suspicion of
danger, took them prisoners in sight of the enemy, and made good their
retreat. By means of this bold exploit the liberation of McCalla was
brought about, at a time when his wife was wholly disheartened by her
repeated and grievous disappointments. When General Sumter passed
through the country, a cartel of exchange was effected, giving the two
British officers in exchange for the prisoners of Chester district in
Camden and Charleston.
The person sent with the flag to accomplish this exchange in Camden, was
Samuel Neely of Fishing creek. As he passed through the town to the
quarters of Lord Rawdon, he was seen and recognized by the prisoners,
and it may be supposed their hearts beat with joy at the prospect of
speedy release. But in consequence of some mismanagement of the
business, the unfortunate men were detained in jail several weeks
longer. Neely was in haste to proceed to Charleston, being anxious, in
the accomplishment of his mission in that city, to get his son Thomas
out of the prison-ship, and in his hurry probably neglected some
necessary formalities. His countrymen in Camden were kept in confinement
after his return from Charleston with his son. Captain Mills was
informed of this, and indignant at the supposed disrespect shown by Lord
Rawdon to the cartel of General Sumter, wrote a letter of remonstrance
to Rawdon, which he entrusted to Mrs. McCalla to be conveyed to him.
Our heroine was accompanied on this journey by Mrs. Mary Nixon, for she
judged it impolitic that the letter should be delivered by one so
obnoxious to his lordship as herself. Still she deemed it her duty to be
on the spot to welcome her liberated husband, supply all his wants, and
conduct him home. The distance was traversed this time with lighter
heart than before, for now she had no reason to fear disappointment.
When they arrived at Camden, they went to the jail. John Adair was
standing at a window; they saw and greeted each other, the women
standing in the yard below. Perhaps in consequence of his advice, or
prudential considerations on their part, they determined not to avail
themselves of the good offices of Major Doyle on this occasion. Adair
directed them to send the jailor up to him, and wrote a note introducing
his sister to the acquaintance of Lord Rawdon. The two women then
proceeded to the quarters of that nobleman. When they arrived at the
gate, Mrs. McCalla stopped, saying she would wait there, and her
companion proceeded by herself. She was admitted into the presence of
Lord Rawdon, who read the note of introduction she handed to him, and
observed, referring to the writer--that the small-pox had almost
finished him; still, he had come very near escaping from the jail; that
he was "a grand 'scape-gallows." On reading the letter of Captain Mills
his color changed, and when he had finished it, turning to Mrs. Nixon,
he said in an altered tone: "I am sorry these men have not been
dismissed, as of right they ought." He immediately wrote a discharge for
eleven of the prisoners, and put it into her hands, saying: "You can get
them out, madam. I am very sorry they have been confined so many weeks
longer than they should have been." At the same time he gave Mrs. Nixon
a guinea. "This," he said, "will bear your expenses."
His lordship accompanied her on her way out, and as she passed through
the gate his eye fell on Mrs. McCalla, whom he instantly recognized.
Walking to the spot where she stood near the gate, he said fiercely:
"Did I not order you, madam, to keep out of my presence?" The matron's
independent spirit flashed from her eyes, as she answered: "I had no
wish, sir, to intrude myself on your presence; I stopped at the gate on
purpose to avoid you." Unable to resist the temptation of speaking her
mind for once, now that she had a last opportunity, she added: "I might
turn the tables on you, sir, and ask, why did _you_ come out to the gate
to insult a woman? I have received from you nothing but abuse. My
distresses you have made sport of, and I ceased long since to expect
anything from you but ill-treatment. I am now not your supplicant; I
came to _demand_, as a right, the release of my husband!" So saying, she
bowed to him contemptuously, wheeled about, and deliberately walked off,
without stopping to see how her bold language was received. Mrs. Nixon
hastened after her, pale as death, and at first too much frightened to
speak. As soon as she found voice, she exclaimed: "Sally, you have
ruined us, I am afraid! Why, he may put us both in jail!"
Mrs. McCalla laughed outright. "It is not the first time, Mary," she
replied, "that I have given him to understand I thought him a villain!"
The two made their way back to the prison, but even after they got there
Mrs. Nixon had not recovered from her terror. She was informed that it
would be some time before the prisoners could be released. The
blacksmith was then sent for, and came with his tools. The sound of the
hammering in the apartments of the jail, gave the first intimation to
the women who waited to greet their friends, that the helpless captives
were chained to the floor. This precaution had been adopted not long
before, in consequence of some of the prisoners having attempted an
escape. They were then put in handcuffs or chained by the ankle. These
men left the place of their long imprisonment and suffering in company
with the two women, and as they marched through the streets of Camden,
passing the British guard, they sang at the top of their voices the
songs of the "liberty-men."
INTREPIDITY OF MRS. ISRAEL.
He is not worthy of the honey comb,
That shuns the hive because the bees have stings.
SHAKSPEARE.
During the Revolution, Israel Israel, a true whig and a worthy farmer,
residing on the banks of the Delaware, near Wilmington, was, for a short
time, a prisoner on board the frigate Roebuck, directly opposite his own
house and land. While thus situated, it was reported by some loyalists
by whose treachery he had been betrayed into the hands of the enemy,
that he had said repeatedly that "he would sooner drive his cattle as a
present to George Washington, than receive thousands of dollars in
British gold for them." The commander hearing the report, to be revenged
on the rebel, sent a small detachment of soldiers to drive his cattle,
which were in plain sight of the frigate, down to the Delaware, and have
them slaughtered before their owner's eyes. Mrs. Israel,[26] who was
young and sprightly, and brave as a Spartan, seeing the movements of
the soldiers as she stood in her doorway, and divining their purpose as
they marched towards the meadow where the cattle were grazing, called a
boy about eight years old, and started off in great haste, to defeat, if
possible, their marauding project. They threatened and she defied, till
at last they fired at her. The cattle, more terrified than she,
scattered over the fields; and as the balls flew thicker she called on
the little boy "Joe" the louder and more earnestly to help, determined
that the assailants should not have one of the cattle. _They did not._
She drove them all into the barn-yard, when the soldiers, out of respect
to her courage, or for some other cause, ceased their molestations and
returned to the frigate.
[26] The maiden name of Mrs. Israel was Hannah Erwin. Her first meeting
with her husband was romantic enough. Mr. Israel had sailed in a sloop,
or packet, from Philadelphia, to visit New Castle where his mother and
family resided. He observed on deck an extremely pretty girl, hardly
seventeen years of age, and very neatly and tastefully dressed, with the
finest turned foot and ankle in the world. All who went on such voyages
were then obliged to furnish themselves with provisions; and his
attention was drawn by the young girl's kindly distribution of her
little stock, handing it about from one to another, till but little was
left for her own portion. In passing him, she modestly hesitated a
moment, and then offered him a share. This led to conversation; he
learned that she was the daughter of highly respectable parents, and
resided in Wilmington. Love at first sight was as common in those days
as now. After seeing his mother, he visited Wilmington; became better
acquainted, offered himself and was accepted: and on his marriage,
rented the farm above mentioned, and commenced life anew.--[Mrs.
Ellet.
AN INCIDENT IN MISSIONARY LIFE.
Love's holy flame for ever burneth;
From heaven it came, to heaven returneth;
Too oft on earth a troubled guest,
... at times oppressed.
It here is tried and purified,
Then hath in heaven its perfect rest.
It soweth here with toil and care,
But the harvest time of love is there.
SOUTHEY.
No class of laborers in the broad harvest field of the world endure so
many sacrifices of comfort and of home felicities as the missionaries to
foreign countries. Of the trials peculiar to _mothers_ who go forth on
such an errand of humanity, the keenest must be their separation from
their children. The pernicious habits and influences of a pagan
community, often render it absolutely necessary that their offspring
should be sent to a civilized land to be educated. This duty, however
painful, is imperative, and they who accuse the mother of hardness
because she does it, are either grossly ignorant, or haters of truth.
Many instances of heroic firmness and almost superhuman calmness under
such trials, are on record, but one may stand as a type of the whole.
Mrs. Comstock[27] of the Burmah Baptist mission felt called upon to part
with her two children, whom God had given her while on the field of
labor. The hour for separation came, and taking them by the hand, she
led them down to the ship that was to bear them for ever from her sight.
Having invoked the blessing of Heaven upon them, she gave each the
parting kiss and, with streaming eyes, lifted her hands towards heaven
and exclaimed: "My Saviour! I do this for thee."
[27] Sarah Davis Comstock was the wife of the Rev. Grover S. Comstock,
who was stationed at Kyouk Phyoo in the province of Arracan, Burmah. She
was born at Brookline, Massachusetts, in 1812 and died at Ramree, April
twenty-eighth, 1843.
Amid the jungles of the East,
Where gloomiest forms of sin are rife,
Like flowerets in a desert drear,
Her treasured ones had sprung to life.
And smiling round her, day by day,
Though cares unnumbered weigh her heart,
Their prattle, full of music tones,
Unceasing joy and hope impart.
Their little minds, like tender buds
In vernal hours, she sees unfold,
And young affection in their eyes
Is gleaming like a gem of gold.
But 'mid the toils that press her sore--
The spirit-wants of 'wildered ones--
These buds must often miss the dew,
And plead in vain for constant suns.
She sees their smiles, their music hears,
And feels affection's holy thrall;
But duty's voice, from out the skies,
In sweeter tones, is heard o'er all.
To Western climes, illumed by truth,
And blest with learning's sacred flowers,
These blossoms of her heart must go,
To bloom henceforth in stranger bowers.
She leads them to the waiting ship;
She kneels in anguish on the deck,
And while she breathes a silent prayer,
Their arms like tendrils twine her neck.
She tears her from the loved away,
Whom she on earth no more may see,
And looking up to heaven, exclaims,
"_My Saviour, I do this for thee!_"
Then hastens to her task again,
The pleasant task her Saviour's given,
That, finished all, she may ascend,
And lure the distant ones to heaven.
A KIND-HEARTED CHIPPEWA.
Both men and women belie their nature
When they are not kind.
BAILEY'S FESTUS.
In the early settlement of Ohio, Daniel Convers was captured by the
savages; but he had the good fortune to be purchased by a noble-hearted
Indian whose wife possessed a kindred spirit. His condition, we are
informed in the Pioneer History of Ohio, "was not that of a slave, but
rather an adoption into the family as a son. The Indian's wife, whom he
was directed to call mother, was a model of all that is excellent in
woman, being patient, kind-hearted, humane and considerate to the wants
and comfort of all around her, and especially so to their newly adopted
son. To sum up all her excellences in a brief sentence of the captive's
own language, she was 'as good a woman as ever lived.'"[28]
[28] Mr. Convers escaped from his Chippewa friends, at Detroit. Touching
the treatment he received from his adopted mother, a writer says: "How
few among the more civilized race of whites would ever imitate the
Christian charities of this untaught daughter of nature!"
HUMANITY OF A CHEROKEE.
How poor an instrument
May do a noble deed.
SHAKSPEARE.
During the Revolution, a young Shawanese Indian was captured by the
Cherokees and sentenced to die at the stake. He was tied, and the usual
preparations were made for his execution, when a Cherokee woman went to
the warrior to whom the prisoner belonged, and throwing a parcel of
goods at his feet, said she was a widow and would adopt the captive as
her son, and earnestly plead for his deliverance. Her prayer was
granted, and the prisoner taken under her care. He rewarded her by his
fidelity, for, in spite of the entreaties of his friends, whom he was
allowed to visit, he never left her.
SELF-SACRIFICING SPIRIT OF THE MISSIONARY.
Thou know 'st not, Afric! sad of heart and blind,
Unskilled the precious Book of God to read;
Thou canst not know, what moved that soul refined,
Thy lot of wretchedness to heed,
And from her fireside, bright with hallowed glee,
To dare the boisterous surge and deadly clime for thee.
MRS. SIGOURNEY.
We know not how one may exhibit greater benevolence than to offer life
for the spiritual good of the heathen; and he virtually does this who
goes to some, at least, of the missionary stations. Those in Africa are
the most unhealthy, and their history presents a frightful bill of
mortality. In his journal of January, 1846, Dr. Savage, of the
Protestant Episcopal mission in Africa, states that during the nine
years previous to that date, the whole number of missionaries under the
patronage of the different Boards, in Africa, had been sixty-one, and of
that number forty were then dead. American Baptists alone lost eleven
between 1826 and 1848. Five of them were buried in the single town of
Monrovia. With such facts as these, touching African missions, staring
the disciple of Christ in the face, it must require no common degree of
moral courage for him to embark in the enterprise.
The following letter, by Miss Maria V. Chapin, of Vermont, was written
prior to her leaving this country for West Africa, and breathes the
sentiments of a self-sacrificing and heroic Christian. Multitudes of
like examples, equally as noble, might be pointed out, but it seems to
be needless: this letter may stand as a type of the spirit usually
exhibited under similar circumstances. It was addressed to the Rev. Dr.
Vaughan, then Secretary of the Foreign Committee of the Protestant
Episcopal church:
"The question of my personally engaging in a mission to the heathen, has
long been before my mind, and received, as it claimed, my most serious
and prayerful consideration. This great work is now brought nearer to my
mind than I could ever before regard it, and I trust it does not appear
the less desirable. I have considered the subject in every light, so far
as I am able from the information I have respecting it, and I can never
take up the question again, to find reasons for going. My mind is now
settled as to the duty, should no unforeseen providence prevent, of
leaving home and country for a heathen land. A long adieu to my kindred
and friends will rend the heart; I feel already that it will; but at the
same time, the prospect of doing good to some poor heathen soul will
fill it with joy, and the hope of advancing, in ever so small a degree,
the cause of my Redeemer, will be a constant feast to the soul. The
silent tear of parental affection and solicitude would indeed overpower
me, had I not confidence that He who thus afflicts, will support, my
beloved parents. Neither, in the present case, can I think it proper to
follow, altogether, the opinion of friends. With the smiles of my
heavenly Father, I must be happy, though friends forsake me. I feel an
inexpressible pleasure in commending them to God, assured that they will
be enabled to give up their child without regret, in the hope that she
will do good to perishing souls. And I have, also, that blessed hope,
that, should we never again meet in this world, we shall be a happy
family circle at the right hand of God. Still, I feel my own
insufficiency to decide a question of such importance as that of leaving
all that the heart holds most dear on earth, to encounter the toils and
hardships of a missionary life. Indeed, I would not decide for myself. I
trust solely to Him who has promised grace and strength. Though, at
times, great weakness has constrained me to shrink at the prospect
before me, I have been consoled and supported in the assurance that God
will perfect strength in my weakness. I feel a desire to act in
accordance with the will of God; to do nothing which would be
displeasing in His sight. I think I am willing to be, and to do,
anything for the sake of the glory of God; and if I can only be sure
that I am wholly under the guidance of His spirit, I shall be fully
satisfied. It is difficult, I know, to analyze one's feelings, and
ascertain the real character of the motives by which we are actuated; I
feel my liability to be deceived, and my need of Divine assistance. The
only question which concerns me, is, are my motives pure and holy?
Never would I bear the missionary standard, without having in my heart
the missionary spirit. I have calmly and deliberately weighed the
subject, and feel that no attraction from its novelty, no impulse from
its moral dignity, can bear up, and carry forward any one, amidst the
long continued labors of almost uniform sameness which you represented
to me; nothing but a thorough conviction of being in the path of duty,
nothing but the approving smile of Heaven, can keep one from
despondency, from sinking into hopeless inactivity; but I have calmly
and deliberately weighed the subject, and feel a willingness to give up
comforts, and submit to privations, to forsake ease and endure toil, to
assemble no more 'with the great congregation,' but seek the Lord in the
wilderness, or in the desert--in short, to make every sacrifice of
personal ease and gratification, for the one great object of making
known a crucified Saviour to those who are perishing in ignorance and
sin. Indeed, what sacrifice can be too great, if what is done for Him
who bought us with his own blood can be called a sacrifice, for those to
make, who have themselves experienced the efficacy of a Saviour's blood?
I have reflected, that should I go out, cheered by the smiles of
friends, and encouraged by the approbation of the churches, yet soon,
amidst a people of strange speech, I shall see these smiles only in
remembrance, and hear the voice of encouragement only in dying whispers
across the ocean. Yet, when I have considered the command of Christ, 'Go
ye and teach all nations,'--and when, in pouring out my soul on this
subject to the Father of light, I have realized more of that sweet
'peace which passeth all understanding;' objections have all dwindled to
a point; I have been enabled, by the eye of faith, to discover the
finger of God, pointing me to the benighted African, and have heard his
voice saying, with the affection of a Father and the authority of a
Sovereign, 'Come, follow me'--'He that loveth father or mother more than
me, is not worthy of me;' and adding, for my encouragement, 'I will
never leave thee nor forsake thee.' I do feel that God calls me to
become a missionary, and do, with this belief, resolve to consider
myself as devoted to that service, hoping that God will qualify me, and
make me a faithful servant for Christ's sake."[29]
[29] This letter was written in the fall of 1841. Miss Chapin,
afterwards Mrs. Savage, embarked for Africa on the twenty-eighth of the
following January, and reached Cape Palmas on the twenty-fifth of March.
As might be anticipated, her labors soon closed. She died on the field,
in December, 1843.
"That life is long which answers life's great end."
DARING EXPLOIT OF "TWO REBELS."
Think'st thou there dwells no courage but in breasts
That set their mail against the ringing spears,
When helmets are struck down? Thou little knowest
Of nature's marvels.
MRS. HEMANS.
During the sieges of Augusta and Cambridge, two young men of the name of
Martin, belonging to Ninety-Six district, South Carolina, were in the
army. Meanwhile their wives, who remained at home with their
mother-in-law, displayed as much courage, on a certain occasion, as was
exhibited, perhaps, by any female during the struggle for Independence.
Receiving intelligence one evening that a courier, under guard of two
British officers, would pass their house that night with important
dispatches, Grace and Rachel Martin resolved to surprise the party and
obtain the papers. Disguising themselves in their husbands' outer
garments and providing themselves with arms, they waylaid the enemy.
Soon after they took their station by the road-side, the courier and his
escort made their appearance. At the proper moment, the disguised ladies
sprang from their bushy covert, and presenting their pistols, ordered
the party to surrender their papers. Surprised and alarmed, they obeyed
without hesitation or the least resistance. The brave women having put
them on parole, hastened home by the nearest route, which was a by-path
through the woods, and dispatched the documents to General Greene by a
single messenger, who probably had more courage than the trio that
lately bore them.
Strange to say, a few minutes after the ladies reached home, and just as
they had doffed their male attire, the officers, retracing their steps,
rode up to the house and craved accommodations for the night. The mother
of the heroines asked them the cause of their so speedy return after
passing her house, when they exhibited their paroles and said that "two
rebels" had taken them prisoners. Here the young ladies, in a rallying
mood, asked them if they had no arms, to which query they replied, that,
although they had, they were arrested so suddenly that they had no time
to use them. We have only to add that they were hospitably entertained,
and the next morning took their leave of the women as ignorant of the
residence of their captors as when first arrested.
ELIZABETH MARTIN.
The mothers of our Forest-land!
Their bosoms pillowed _men_.
W. D. GALLAGHER.
--A fine family is a fine thing.
BYRON.
The mother-in-law of the two patriotic women spoken of in the preceding
article, was a native of Caroline county, Virginia. Her maiden name was
Marshall. On marrying Mr. Abram Martin, she removed to South Carolina.
When the Revolutionary war broke out, she had seven sons old enough to
enlist in their country's service; and as soon as the call to arms was
heard, she said to them, "Go, boys, and fight for your country! fight
till death, if you must, but never let your country be dishonored. Were
I a man I would go with you."