some refreshments, one of them asked her how many sons she had. She told
him, eight; and when asked where they were, she boldly replied, "Seven
of them are engaged in the service of their country." The officer
sneeringly observed that she had enough of them. "No, sir, I wish I had
fifty!" was her prompt and proud reply.
Only one of those seven sons was killed during the war. He was a captain
of artillery, served in the sieges of Savannah and Charleston, and was
slain at the siege of Augusta. Soon after his death a British officer
called on the mother, and in speaking of this son, inhumanly told her
that he saw his brains blown out on the battle field. The reply she made
to the monster's observation was: "He could not have died in a nobler
cause."
When Charleston was besieged, she had three sons in the place. She heard
the report of cannon on the occasion, though nearly a hundred miles west
of the besieged city. The wives of the sons were with her, and
manifested great uneasiness while listening to the reports; nor could
the mother control her feelings any better. While they were indulging in
silent and, as we may suppose, painful reflections, the mother suddenly
broke the silence by exclaiming, as she raised her hands: "Thank God!
they are the children of the republic!"[30]
[30] Vide Women of the Revolution, vol. 1 p. 278.
THE MOTHER'S EFFECTUAL PETITION.
What rhetoric didst thou use
To gain this mighty boon?
ADDISON.
James M. Wilson was one of the unfortunate young men who engaged in the
Cuban invasion, in 1851; and he was taken prisoner and sent to Spain.
His mother petitioned for his release through President Fillmore, and so
earnest, so full of the beauty of maternal love, and so touching was her
appeal, that her request was granted, and the erring son was permitted
to return to his mother's embrace. The following is a copy of the letter
which she addressed to the President. It is said to have called forth
flattering commendation from the heads of State and the highest
encomiums from the Majesty of Spain.
NEW ORLEANS, Sept. 25, 1851.
DEAR FATHER OF OUR COUNTRY:--To you I look for help. My dear son is one
of the unfortunate prisoners to Spain. He is all the child I have; is
only nineteen years old, not twenty-two, as stated. He was innocent and
unsuspecting, and the more easily duped. He saw no means of making a
support for himself and me, we being poor: he could get no employment;
my health was bad; he therefore hoped to do something by going to Cuba.
But, alas! I am worse than poor! Death would have been more welcome. His
father died, when he was very young, in Texas, which makes him more dear
to me. Oh! cruel fate, why have I lived to see this? Perhaps to suit
some wise design. God's will be done, not mine! I have prayed for his
life from the time he left; it was spared. Dear President, will it be
possible for you to do any thing? Can you comfort me? I am wearing away.
Methinks I cannot bear up under the idea of ten years; perhaps executed,
or detained for life, or the climate cause his death. I feel for all of
them, and pray for all. It was not my will that he should go; he was
seduced into it by others. Dear father of the land of my birth, can you
do any thing? Will you ask for their release? Methinks you will, and it
would be granted. Will you feel offended with me for appealing to you
for comfort? If so, I beg pardon. My distress has stimulated me to
venture to dare to address the President. To whom else could I look for
comfort? If you could but see me, I know you would pity me. If any one
knew I had approached you, they might think I presumed much. Perhaps I
do. Yet methinks you will view it in charity.
With all due respect to your Excellency.
OPHELIA P. TALBOT.
NOTEWORTHY INTEGRITY.
Honesty, even by itself, though making many adversaries
Whom prudence might have set aside, or charity have softened,
Evermore will prosper at the last.
TUPPER.
We have often read an interesting story of a stockbroker who, just
before his death, laid a wager on parole with a Parisian capitalist; and
a few weeks after his death, the latter visited the widow and gave her
to understand that her late husband had lost a bet of sixteen thousand
francs. She went to her secretary, took out her pocket-book, and counted
bank notes to the stated amount, when the capitalist thus addressed her:
"Madame, as you give such convincing proof that you consider the wager
binding, _I_ have to pay you sixteen thousand francs. Here is the sum,
for _I_ am the loser, and not your husband."
An act that, in principle, matches the above, came to light not long
since in Philadelphia. During the speculations of 1837-38, Mr. C., a
young merchant of that city, possessed of a handsome fortune, caught the
mania, entered largely into its operations, and for a time was
considered immensely rich. But when the great revulsion occurred he was
suddenly reduced to bankruptcy. His young wife immediately withdrew
from the circles of wealth and fashion, and adapted her expenses, family
and personal, to her altered circumstances.
At the time of Mr. C.'s failure, his wife was in debt to Messrs. Stewart
and Company, merchants of Philadelphia, about two hundred dollars for
articles which she had used personally. This debt, she had no means of
liquidating. It became barred by the statute of limitation, before Mr.
C. became solvent, though his circumstances gradually improved. After
the lapse of twelve years, and when the creditors had looked upon the
debt as lost, Mrs. C. was able to take the principle, add to it twelve
years' interest, enclose the whole in a note and address it to Messrs.
Stewart and Company.[31]
[31] Messrs. Stewart and Company, upon the receipt of the money,
addressed a note in reply to Mrs. C., in which they requested her
acceptance of the accompanying gift, as a slight testimonial of their
high appreciation of an act so honorable and so rare as to call forth
unqualified admiration. Accompanying the letter was sent a superb
brocade silk dress, and some laces of exquisite texture and great
value.--[Philadelphia Enquirer.
A FAITHFUL MOTHER.
--Her pure and holy spirit now
Doth intercede at the eternal throne.
MISS LANDON.
The following anecdote strikingly illustrates the strength of maternal
love, the beauty of faith, and the efficacy of prayer. It was related by
a blind preacher:
"When I was about eighteen years of age, there was a dancing party in
Middleboro, Massachusetts, which I was solicited to attend, and act, as
usual, in the capacity of musician. I was fond of such scenes of
amusements then, and I readily assented to the request. I had a pious
mother; and she earnestly remonstrated against my going. But, at length,
when all her expostulations and entreaties failed in changing my
purpose, she said: 'Well, my son, I shall not forbid your going, but
remember, that all the time you spend in that gay company, I shall spend
in praying for you at home.' I went to the ball, but I was like the
stricken deer, carrying an arrow in his side. I began to play; but my
convictions sank deeper and deeper, and I felt miserable indeed. I
thought I would have given the world to have been rid of that mother's
prayers. At one time I felt so wretched and so overwhelmed with my
feelings, that I ceased playing and dropped my musical instrument from
my hand. There was another young person there who refused to dance; and,
as I learned, her refusal was owing to feelings similar to my own, and
perhaps they arose from a similar cause. My mother's prayers were not
lost. That was the last ball I ever attended, except _one_, where I was
invited to play again, but went and prayed and preached _instead_, till
the place was converted into a Bochim, a place of weeping. The
convictions of that wretched night never wholly left me, till they left
me at the feet of Christ, and several of my young companions in sin ere
long were led to believe and obey the gospel also."
ANECDOTE OF MRS. SPAULDING OF NEW HAMPSHIRE.[32]
Through the deep wilderness, where scarce the sun
Can cast his darts, along the winding path
The pioneer is treading.
STREET.
An energy
A spirit that will not be shaken.
WILLIS.
One of the first two settlers of Northumberland, New Hampshire, was
Daniel Spaulding, who removed thither in the summer of 1767. On the way
to his new home, with his wife and child, the last burnt himself so
badly at Plymouth that the mother was obliged to remain and take care of
him, while Mr. Spaulding proceeded to the end of the journey. She soon
became uneasy, and, anxious to join her husband, started off with her
child, twenty-one months old, to travel twenty-six miles through the
wilderness. A friend who had agreed to accompany her the whole distance
with a horse, returned after traveling about one third of the way.
Undaunted and persevering, she pushed on, alone and on foot; waded
through Baker's river with her child in her arms; was overtaken by a
heavy "thunder gust" in the afternoon, and thoroughly drenched; seated
herself beside a tree when darkness appeared, and held her child in her
lap through a long and sleepless night; resumed her journey early the
next morning; waded through a small pond, with the water waist-high;
pushed on to another river, which, though swollen by the rain of the
preceding day and looking rapid and terrifying, she forded in safety;
and at eleven o'clock that day, the second of her journey, she met her
husband, who was on his way back with a horse for her accommodation.[33]
[32] The substance of this anecdote we find in the second number of the
first volume of a periodical called "Historical Collections," published
nearly thirty years ago at Concord, New Hampshire, and edited by J.
Farmer and J. B. Moore. The anecdote was communicated by Adino N.
Brackett, Esq., of Lancaster, and appeared in the June number for 1822.
[33] This pioneer matron of northern New Hampshire, was living at
Lancaster, in 1822, then in her eighty-second year. She was a
descendant, "in the third degree," of Mrs. Dustin, the heroine of
Penacook.
THE WIFE OF COLONEL THOMAS.
Then since there is no other way but fight or die,
Be resolute, my lord, for victory.
SHAKSPEARE.
Jane Thomas, wife of John Thomas, Colonel of the Spartan regiment of
South Carolina, was a native of Chester county, Pennsylvania. She was a
woman of remarkable coolness and intrepidity, as a single act of hers,
in the times that tried _women's_ souls, plainly indicates.
Governor Rutledge having stored a quantity of arms and ammunition in the
house of Colonel Thomas, under a guard of twenty-five men, the tories
were determined to obtain these munitions. To this end they sent a large
party under Colonel More of North Carolina. Apprised of their approach
and not daring to engage with a force so superior, Colonel Thomas fled
with his twenty-five soldiers, taking along as much ammunition as could
be conveniently carried. Two young men and the women were now the sole
occupants of the house. The tories marched up to the door, but instead
of being invited by the ladies to enter, they were ordered off the
premises. Not choosing to obey the commands of the mistress, they
commenced firing into the logs of the house. The compliment was
instantly returned from the upper story; and the women now loading the
guns for the older of the two young men to discharge, a constant and
perilous firing was kept up from the chamber, which soon made the
assailants desperate. They forthwith attempted to demolish the "batten
door," but it was too strongly barricaded. Finding that themselves were
likely to share a worse fate then the door, they finally obeyed the
original orders of the intrepid mistress; withdrew from the premises and
fled. Mrs. Thomas soon afterwards descended, and opening the door, there
met her returning husband.--The ammunition saved on that occasion by the
courage of a woman, was the main supply, it is said, of Sumter's army in
the skirmishes at Rocky Mount and Hanging Rock.
EXEMPLARY PIETY.
I've pored o'er many a yellow page
Of ancient wisdom, and have won,
Perchance, a scholar's name--but sage
Or bard have never taught thy son
Lessons so dear, so fraught with holy truth,
As those his mother's faith shed on his youth.
GEORGE W. BETHUNE.
A lady in the district of Beaufort, South Carolina, at the age of
seventy-six, anxious once more to enjoy the society of all her children
and grandchildren, invited them to spend a day with her. The interview
was permitted and was very affecting. It "was conducted just as we
should suppose piety and the relation sustained by the parties would
dictate. She acknowledged God in this, as well as in every other way.
Her eldest son, who is a minister of the Gospel in the Baptist
denomination, commenced the exercises of the day, by reading the
Scriptures and prayer. The whole family then joined in the song of
praise to the Giver of every good and perfect gift. This service was
concluded by a suitable exhortation from the same person. Eighty-five of
her regular descendants were present. Forty-four children and
grandchildren, arrived at maturity, sat at the same table at dinner. Of
that number, forty-three professed faith in Jesus Christ; of the four
surviving sons of this excellent lady, two were preachers of the Gospel,
and the other two deacons in the Baptist church.
"Two of her grandsons were also ministers of the same church. When the
day was drawing to a close the matron called her numerous children
around her, gave them each salutary advice and counsel, and bestowed
upon all her parting blessing. The day was closed by her youngest son,
with exercises similar to those with which it commenced.
"Mrs. ---- lived eight years after this event, leaving, at her death,
one hundred and fifteen lineal descendants, in which large number not a
swearer nor drunkard is to be found."[34]
[34] Jabez Burns, D. D.
BOLD ADVENTURE OF A PATRIOTIC GIRL.
Stand
Firm for your country: * *
* * it were a noble life,
To be found dead embracing her.
JOHNSON.
There is strength
Deep bedded in our hearts, of which we reck
But little.
MRS. HEMANS.
We find the following incident in the first volume of American
Anecdotes, "original and select." The young heroine of the adventure
afterwards married a rich planter named Threrwits, who lived on the
Congaree. She has been dead more than half a century, but her name
should be remembered while this republic is permitted to stand.
"At the time General Greene retreated before Lord Rawdon from
Ninety-Six, when he had passed Broad river, he was very desirous to send
an order to General Sumter, who was on the Wateree, to join him, that
they might attack Rawdon, who had divided his force. But the General
could find no man in that part of the state who was bold enough to
undertake so dangerous a mission. The country to be passed through for
many miles was full of blood thirsty tories, who, on every occasion that
offered, imbrued their hands in the blood of the whigs. At length Emily
Geiger presented herself to General Greene, and proposed to act as his
messenger: and the General, both surprised and delighted, closed with
her proposal. He accordingly wrote a letter and delivered it, and at the
same time communicated the contents of it verbally, to be told to Sumter
in case of accidents.
"Emily was young, but as to her person or adventures on the way, we have
no further information, except that she was mounted on horseback, upon a
side-saddle, and on the second day of her journey she was intercepted by
Lord Rawdon's scouts. Coming from the direction of Greene's army, and
not being able to tell an untruth without blushing, Emily was suspected
and confined to a room; and as the officer in command had the modesty
not to search her at the time, he sent for an old tory matron as more
fitting for that purpose. Emily was not wanting in expedient, and as
soon as the door was closed and the bustle a little subsided, she _ate
up the letter_, piece by piece. After a while the matron arrived, and
upon searching carefully, nothing was to be found of a suspicious nature
about the prisoner, and she would disclose nothing. Suspicion being thus
allayed, the officer commanding the scouts suffered Emily to depart
whither she said she was bound; but she took a route somewhat
circuitous to avoid further detention, and soon after struck into the
road to Sumter's camp, where she arrived in safety. Emily told her
adventure, and delivered Greene's verbal message to Sumter, who, in
consequence, soon after joined the main army at Orangeburgh."
MRS. CALDWELL AND THE TORIES.
--The spell is thine that reaches
The heart.
HALLECK.
Prudence protects and guides us.
YOUNG.
Rachel Caldwell was the daughter of the Rev. Alexander Craighead and the
wife of David Caldwell, D. D., whose history is somewhat identified with
that of North Carolina. For several years he was at the head of a
classical school at Guilford in that state, and in the vocation of
teacher he had, at times, the efficient aid of his faithful and talented
companion. She was a woman of exalted piety; and such a degree of
success attended her "labor of love" in the school, that it became a
common saying that "Dr. Caldwell makes the scholars, and Mrs. Caldwell
makes the preachers."
More than once during the Revolution, the house of Dr. Caldwell, who was
a stanch friend of his country, was assailed by tories:[35] and on one
occasion, while his wife was alone and the marauders were collecting
plunder, they broke open a chest or drawer and took therefrom a
table-cloth which was the gift of her mother. She seized it the moment
the soldier had it fairly in his hand, and made an effort to wrest it
from him. Finding she would be the loser in a trial of physical
strength, she instinctively resorted to the power of rhetoric. With her
grasp still firm on the precious article, she turned to the rest of the
plunderers, who stood awaiting the issue of the contest, and in a
beseeching tone and with words warm with eloquence, asked if some of
their number had not wives for the love of whom they would assist her,
and spare the one dear memorial of a mother's affection! Her plea,
though short, was powerful, and actually moved one man to tears. With
rills of sympathy running down his cheeks, he assured her he had a
wife--a wife that he loved--and that for her sake the table-cloth should
be given up. This was accordingly done, and no further rudeness was
offered.
[35] The tories not only destroyed his property, but drove him into the
woods, where he was often obliged to pass nights; and some of his
escapes from captivity or death are said to have been almost
miraculous.--He resumed his labors as teacher and pastor after the war;
and continued to preach till his ninety-sixth year. He died in 1824, at
the age of ninety-nine. His wife died the following year, in the
eighty-seventh of her age.
In the fall of 1780, a "way-worn and weary" stranger, bearing dispatches
from Washington to Greene, stopped at her house and asked for supper and
lodgings. Before he had eaten, the house began to be surrounded by
tories, who were in pursuit of him. Mrs. Caldwell led him out at a
back-door, unseen in the darkness, and ordered him to climb a large
locust tree, and there remain till the house was plundered and the
pursuers had departed. He did so. Mrs. Caldwell lost her property, but
her calmness and prudence saved the express, and that was what most
concerned the patriotic woman.
THE MOTHER OF RANDOLPH
She led me first to God;
Her words and prayers were my young spirit's dew;
For when she used to leave
The fireside every eve,
I knew it was for prayer that she withdrew.
PIERPONT.
The biographers of John Randolph mention the interesting fact that his
mother taught him to pray. This all-important maternal duty made an
impression on his heart. He lived at a period when skepticism was
popular, particularly in some political circles in which he had occasion
to mingle; and he has left on record his testimony in regard to the
influence of his mother's religious instruction. Speaking of the subject
of infidelity to an intimate friend, he once made the following
acknowledgment:
"I believe I should have been swept away by the flood of French
infidelity if it had not been for one thing--the remembrance of the time
when my sainted mother used to make me kneel by her side, taking my
little hands folded in hers, and cause me to repeat the Lord's Prayer."
CORNELIA BEEKMAN.
The smallest worm will turn when trodden on,
And doves will peck, in safeguard of their brood.
SHAKESPEARE.
The vaunts
And menace of the vengeful enemy
Pass like the gust, that roared and died away
In the distant tree.
COLERIDGE.
Mrs. Cornelia Beekman was a daughter of Pierre Van Cortlandt, Lieutenant
Governor of New York from 1777 to 1795; and she seems to have inherited
her father's zeal for the rights of his country. She was born at the
Cortlandt manor house, "an old fashioned stone mansion situated on the
banks of the Croton river," in 1752; was married when about seventeen or
eighteen, to Gerard G. Beekman; and died on the fourteenth of March,
1847. A few anecdotes will illustrate the noble characteristics of her
nature.[36]
[36] For a fuller account of her life, see the second volume of Mrs.
Ellet's Women of the Revolution, to which work we are indebted for the
substance of these anecdotes.
When the British were near her residence, which was a short distance
from Peekskill, a soldier entered the house one day and went directly to
the closet, saying, in reply to a question she put to him, that he
wanted some brandy. She reproved him for his boldness and want of
courtesy, when he threatened to stab her with a bayonet. Unalarmed by
his oath-charged threats--although an old, infirm negro was the only aid
at hand--she in turn threatened him, declaring that she would call her
husband and have his conduct reported to his commander. Her sterness and
intrepidity, coupled with her threats, subdued the insolent coward, and,
obeying her orders, he marched out of the house.
A party of tories, under command of Colonels Bayard and Fleming, once
entered her house, and, with a great deal of impudence and in the most
insulting tone, asked if she was not "the daughter of that old rebel,
Pierre Van Cortlandt?" "I am the daughter of Pierre Van Cortlandt, but
it becomes not such as you to call my father a rebel," was her dauntless
reply. The person who put the question now raised his musket, at which
menacing act, she coolly reprimanded him and ordered him out of doors.
His heart melted beneath the fire of her eye, and, abashed, he sneaked
away.
In one instance, a man named John Webb, better known at that time as
"Lieutenant Jack," left in her charge a valise which contained a new
suit of uniform and some gold. He stated he would send for it when he
wanted it, and gave her particular directions not to deliver it to any
one without a written order from himself or his brother Samuel. About
two weeks afterwards, a man named Smith rode up to the door in haste,
and asked her husband, who was without, for Lieutenant Jack's valise.
She knew Smith, and had little confidence in his _professed_ whig
principles; so she stepped to the door and reminded her husband that it
would be necessary for the messenger to show his order before the valise
could be given up.
"You know me very well, Mrs. Beekman; and when I assure you that
Lieutenant Jack sent me for the valise, you will not refuse to deliver
it to me, as he is greatly in want of his uniform."
"I do know you very well--_too well_ to give you the valise without a
written order from the owner or the Colonel."
Soon after this brief colloquy, Smith went away without the valise, and
it was afterwards ascertained that he was a rank tory, and at that very
hour in league with the British. Indeed Major Andre was concealed in his
house that day, and had Smith got possession of Webb's uniform, as the
latter and Andre were about the same size, it is likely the celebrated
spy would have escaped and changed the reading of a brief chapter of
American history. Who can tell how much this republic is indebted to the
prudence, integrity, courage and patriotism of Cornelia Beekman?
[Illustration: WEST AND HIS MOTHER.]
THE MOTHER OF WEST.