near Long Island Sound. While British ships were lying at anchor in
these waters on a certain occasion, a party of marines in pursuit of his
Excellency, presented themselves at the door. It being impossible for
him to escape by flight, his affectionate and thoughtful wife secreted
him in a large new meat barrel or tierce--for although he was somewhat
corpulent, he could not vie in physical rotundity with the early and
honored Knickerbocker magistrates. He was cleverly packed away in the
future home of doomed porkers, just as the soldiers entered and
commenced their search. Not finding him readily, they asked his
quick-witted wife one or two hard questions, but received no very
enlightening answer. The Legislature had convened a day or two before at
Hartford, and she intimated that he was or ought to be at the capital.
Unsuccessful in their search, the soldiers took their boat and returned
to the ship. Before they had reached the latter, his unpacked Honor was
on a swift steed, galloping to Gubernatorial head-quarters.
BOLD EXPLOIT OF A YOUNG GIRL.
Some god impels with courage not thy own.
POPE'S HOMER.
Robert Gibbes was the owner of a splendid mansion on John's Island, a
few miles from Charleston, South Carolina, known, during the Revolution,
as the "Peaceful Retreat." On his plantation the British encamped on a
certain occasion; and the American authorities sent two galleys up the
Stono river, on which the mansion stood, to dislodge them. Strict
injunctions had been given to the men not to fire on the house, but Mr.
Gibbes not being aware of this fact, when the firing commenced, thought
it advisable to take his family to some remote place for shelter. They
accordingly started in a cold and drizzly rain and in a direction
ranging with the fire of the American guns. Shot struck the trees and
cut the bushes beside their path for some distance. When about a mile
from the mansion, and out of danger, reaching the huts occupied by the
negroes on the plantation, Mrs. Gibbes, being chilled and exhausted, was
obliged to lie down. Here, when they supposed all were safe, and began
to rejoice over their fortunate escape, to their great astonishment,
they discovered that a boy named Fenwick, a member of the family, had
been left behind.[50] It was still raining, was very dark, and imminent
danger must attend an effort to rescue the lad. And who would risk life
in attempting it? The servants refused. Mr. Gibbes was gouty and feeble,
and prudence forbade him to again venture out. At length, the oldest
daughter of the family, Mary Ann, only thirteen years old, offers to go
alone. She hastens off; reaches the house, still in possession of the
British; begs the sentinel to let her enter; and though repeatedly
repulsed, she doubles the earnestness of her entreaties, and finally
gains admittance. She finds the child in the third story; clasps him in
her arms; hastens down stairs, and, passing the sentry, flees with the
shot whizzing past her head; and herself and the child are soon with the
rest of the family.
[50] In addition to her own family, Mrs. Gibbes had the care of the
seven orphan children of Mrs. Fenwick, her sister-in-law, and two other
children. It is not surprising, that, in the confusion of a sudden
flight from the house, one of the number should be left behind.
SUSANNA WRIGHT.
Work for some good, be it ever so slowly;
Cherish some flower, be it ever so lowly;
Labor--all labor is noble and holy.
MRS. OSGOOD.
Susanna Wright removed to this country with her parents from Warrington,
in Great Britain, in the year 1714. The family settled in Lancaster
county, Pennsylvania. Susanna was then about seventeen. "She never
married; but after the death of her father, became the head of her own
family, who looked up to her for advice and direction as a parent, for
her heart was replete with every kind affection."
She was a remarkable economist of time, for although she had the
constant management of a large family, and, at times, of a profitable
establishment, she mastered many of the sciences; was a good French,
Latin and Italian scholar; assisted neighbors in the settlement of
estates, and was frequently consulted as a physician.
"She took great delight in domestic manufacture, and had constantly much
of it produced in her family. For many years she attended to the rearing
of silk worms, and with the silk, which she reeled and prepared
herself, made many articles both of beauty and utility, dying the silk
of various colors with indigenous materials. She had at one time upwards
of sixty yards of excellent mantua returned to her from Great Britain,
where she had sent the raw silk to be manufactured."
This industrious and pious Quakeress, who seems to have possessed all
the excellencies defined in Solomon's inventory of the virtuous woman,
lived more than four score years, an ornament to her sex and a blessing
to the race.
"There was no need,
In those good times, of trim callisthenics,--
And there was less of gadding, and far more
Of home-bred, heart-felt comfort, rooted strong
In industry, and bearing such rare fruit
As wealth may never purchase."
PATRIOTISM OF 1770.
In conduct, as in courage, you excel,
Still first to act what you advise so well.
POPE'S HOMER.
In the early part of February, 1770, the women of Boston publicly
pledged themselves to abstain from the use of tea, "as a practical
execution of the non-importation agreement of their fathers, husbands
and brothers." We are credibly informed, writes the editor of the Boston
Gazette of February ninth, "that upwards of one hundred ladies at the
north part of the town, have, of their own free will and accord, come
into and signed an agreement, not to drink any tea till the Revenue Acts
are passed." At that date three hundred matrons had become members of
the league.
Three days after the above date, the young women followed the example of
their mothers, multitudes signing a document which read as follows: "We,
the daughters of those patriots who have and do now appear for the
public interest, and, in that, principally regard their posterity,--as
such do with pleasure engage with them in denying ourselves the drinking
of foreign tea, in hopes to frustrate a plan which tends to deprive the
whole community of all that is valuable in life."
Multitudes of females in New York and Virginia, and, if we mistake not,
some in other states, made similar movements; and it is easy to
perceive, in the tone of those early pledges of self-denial for honor,
liberty, country's sake, the infancy of that spirit which, quickly
reaching its manhood, planned schemes of resistance to oppression on a
more magnanimous scale, and flagged not till a work was done which
filled half the world with admiration and the whole with astonishment.
MRS. SPALDING OF GEORGIA.
Through trials hard as these, how oft are seen
The tender sex, in fortitude serene.
ANN SEWARD.
Mrs. Spalding was the niece of General Lachlan McIntosh, daughter of
Colonel William McIntosh and mother of Major Spalding, of Georgia.
In 1778, after Colonel Campbell took possession of Savannah, Georgia,
that section of the country was infested with reckless marauders, and
many families fled to avoid their ruthlessness. Mr. Spalding retired
with his wife and child to Florida; and twice during the Revolution, she
traversed "the two hundred miles between Savannah and St. John's river,
in an open boat, with only black servants on board, when the whole
country was a desert, without a house to shelter her and her infant
son."
The part she bore in the dangers of the Revolution and the anxieties to
which she was necessarily subjected, so impaired her health that "many
years afterwards it was deemed necessary that she should try the climate
of Europe. In January, 1800, she, with her son and his wife, left
Savannah in a British ship of twenty guns, with fifty men, built in all
points to resemble a sloop of war, without the appearance of a cargo.
When they had been out about fifteen days, the captain sent one morning
at daylight, to request the presence of two of his gentlemen passengers
on deck. A large ship, painted black and showing twelve guns on a side,
was seen to windward, running across their course. She was obviously a
French privateer. The captain announced that there was no hope of
out-sailing her, should their course be altered; nor would there be hope
in a conflict, as those ships usually carried one hundred and fifty men.
Yet he judged that if no effort were made to shun the privateer, the
appearance of his ship might deter from an attack. The gentlemen were of
the same opinion. Mr. Spalding, heart-sick at thought of the perilous
situation of his wife and mother, and unwilling to trust himself with an
interview till the crisis was over, requested the captain to go below
and make what preparation he could for their security. After a few
minutes' absence the captain returned to describe a most touching scene.
Mrs. Spalding had placed her daughter-in-law and the other inmates of
the cabin for safety in the two state-rooms, filling the berths with the
cots and bedding from the outer cabin. She had then taken her station
beside the scuttle, which led from the outer cabin to the magazine, with
two buckets of water. Having noticed that the two cabin boys were
heedless, she had determined herself to keep watch over the magazine.
She did so till the danger was past. The captain took in his light
sails, hoisted his boarding nettings, opened his ports, and stood on
upon his course. The privateer waited till the ship was within a mile,
then fired a gun to windward, and stood on her way. This ruse preserved
the ship."[51]
[51] Mrs. Ellet.
COURAGEOUS ACT OF MRS. DILLARD.
Thy country, glorious, brave and fair,
Thine all of life--
Her name alone thy heart's depths stirred,
And filled thy soul with war-like pride.
SARA J. CLARKE.
The day before the battle at the Green Spring, in the Spartanburg
district, South Carolina, Colonel Clarke, of the Georgia volunteers,
with about two hundred men, stopped at the house of Captain Dillard and
were cordially welcomed to a good supply of refreshments. In the evening
of the same day, Colonel Ferguson and another officer named Dunlap, with
a party of tories, arrived at the same house and inquired of the
mistress, if Colonel Clarke had been there, to which question she gave a
direct and honest answer. He then inquired in regard to the time of
Clarke's departure and the number of his men. She could not guess their
number, but said they had been gone a long time. She was then ordered to
get supper, which she did, though in a less hospitable spirit than she
had prepared the previous meal. While at work, she overheard some of the
conversation of the officers, by which she learned that they were bent
on surprising Colonel Clarke, and would start for that purpose when
supper was dispatched. As soon as the food was on the table, Mrs.
Dillard hurried out at the back door, bridled a horse that stood in the
stable, and mounting without saddle, rode till nearly daylight before
reaching the Green Spring where Clarke had encamped, and where he was to
be attacked by Ferguson, at the break of day or sooner, as she had
learned before starting.
She had just aroused the whigs and notified them of their danger, when a
detachment of two hundred picked, mounted men, commanded by Dunlap,
rushed into the camp. They found their intended victims ready for the
charge; were quickly driven out of the camp, and glad to escape by
flight. Thus, fortunately for the friends of freedom, ended this battle,
which, but for the daring of a single patriotic woman, would doubtless
have resulted in the annihilation of the little band of Georgia
volunteers.
PHOEBE PHILLIPS.
The secret pleasure of a generous act
Is the great mind's great bribe.
DRYDEN.
Phoebe Foxcroft, afterwards the wife of Samuel Phillips, the joint
founder, with his uncle, of the academy at Andover, Massachusetts, was a
native of Cambridge, in the same state. Reared beneath the shades of
"Old Harvard" and being the daughter of a man of wealth and high
respectability, it is almost needless to say that she was well educated
and highly refined. To mental attainments she added the finishing charm
of female character, glowing piety. The last forty years or more of her
life were passed at Andover, where, after the death of her husband, she
assisted in founding the celebrated Theological seminary. She died in
1818.
It is said that she was accustomed, for years, to make the health of
every pupil in the academy a subject of personal interest. Her
attentions to their wants were impartial and incalculably beneficial. To
those that came from remote towns, and were thus deprived of parental
oversight, she acted the part of a faithful mother.
Affectionate, kind, generous, watchful, as a christian guardian; she was
unbending, self-sacrificing and "zealous, yet modest," as a patriot.
During the seven years' struggle for freedom, she frequently sat up till
midnight or past, preparing bandages and scraping lint for the hospitals
and making garments for the ragged soldiers.
An offender of justice was once passing her house on his way to the
whipping-post, when a boy, who observed him from her window, could not
withhold a tear. He tried to conceal his emotion, but Mrs. Phillips saw
the pearl drop of pity, and while a kindred drop fell from her own eyes,
she said to him, with much emphasis and as though laying down some
golden maxim--"When you become a law maker, examine the subject of
corporeal punishment, and see if it is not unnatural, vindictive and
productive of much evil." She was very discriminating, and could detect
talent as well as tears; and addressed the lad with a premonition that
he was destined to become a legislator--which was indeed the case.
Elected to the assembly of the state, with the sacred command of his
early and revered mentor impressed on his memory, he early called the
attention of that body to the subject of corporeal punishment; had the
statute book revised and the odious law, save in capital offences,
expunged, and the pleasure of announcing the fact to the original
suggestor of the movement.
WORTHY EXAMPLE OF A POOR WIDOW.
Howe'er it be, it seems to me
'Tis only noble to be good;
Kind hearts are more than coronets,
And simple faith than Norman blood.
TENNYSON.
The following article was communicated to the Christian Watchman and
Reflector, of Boston, for January thirtieth, 1851. The facts are given
without coloring or embellishment. The subject of the article has gone
to the grave, but the influence of her exemplary life has not ceased to
be felt. Her
"Speaking dust
Has more of life than half its breathing moulds."
Some twenty years since, the writer became pastor of a church in the
town of B. A few weeks after my settlement, I called at the humble
dwelling of a poor widow, with whom I had already become somewhat
acquainted. Having been apprised of the high estimation in which she was
held by the church of which she was a member, for her cheerful and
consistent piety, an interesting and profitable interview was
anticipated. I had been seated but a few moments when she placed in my
hand one dollar, and proceeded, by way of explanation, to make the
following statements, which I give as nearly as possible in her own
language:
"Before you came among us, our church and people where in a very
depressed and disheartened condition. For two or three Sabbaths we had
no religious services during the day. How sad to be as sheep without a
shepherd, and to have the house of God closed on his holy day! If the
Lord would only send us a pastor, I felt willing to do any thing in my
power to aid in sustaining him. But then the thought occurred to me,
What can _you_ do, a poor widow, with four small children to support,
and your house rent to pay? It is quite as much as you can do to meet
necessary expenses. For a moment I was sad; but my mind still dwelt upon
the subject, until finally this plan occurred to me: 'God has blessed
you with excellent health, and you can sit up and work between the hours
of nine and eleven or twelve o'clock at night; and what you thus earn
you can give for that object.' I was at once relieved, and resolved
before the Lord that, if he would send us a pastor, I would immediately
commence my labors, and do what I could to aid in sustaining and
encouraging him. I felt that now I could pray consistently, as I was
willing to do my duty. With a faith and fervor to which I had before
been a stranger, I besought the Lord speedily to favor us with an
under-shepherd; and soon you came here to preach for us. I believed God
sent you; and although at first you had no idea of remaining, I never
doubted that you would become our pastor. As soon as you had accepted
the call of the church, I began to work in accordance with my vow, and
that dollar is the result of my earning, the last four weeks. And O, you
would rejoice with me, could you know how much I have enjoyed these
silent hours of night, when my children around me are wrapt in slumber,
and all is as the stillness of the grave. The Lord has been with me
continually, and I have had uninterrupted communion with him. When God
had given us a pastor, I felt I must pray for a blessing to attend his
labors among us; and, often have I been so impressed with the importance
of a revival of religion, and the conversion of my children, and the
people of this place, that I have been obliged to leave my work, and
kneel down before my Maker, and earnestly plead with him that his Spirit
may accomplish this work. Even after I had retired to rest, I have
sometimes been obliged to arise and pray that he would save the souls of
this people. And, blessed be his holy name, he has listened to prayer
for this object also. When I heard of the numbers who attended the
religious inquiry meeting, and the hopeful conversion of some to God, I
felt I could say, 'This is the Lord, I have waited for him;' and I
believe he will do greater things than these in our midst. Thus has God
blessed one of the most unworthy of all his creatures; and I have often
been led to sing, while I have been laboring here, lowly as is my
condition,
'I would not change my blest estate,
With all that earth calls rich or great;
And, while my faith can keep her hold,
I envy not the sinner's gold.'"
My attention had been absorbed with this interesting and affecting
narrative; nor had I any inclination to interrupt it with remarks of my
own. I now thought I could read the secret of the apparent success which
had attended my labors in so short a time. As soon as I could recover
from my emotions, I said to her, I am grateful for your prayers and this
proffered donation; but, as my parish affords me a competent support, I
can on no account feel at liberty to appropriate to my own private use
the money thus earned. No; you shall have the additional satisfaction,
while you are toiling at these unseasonable hours of night, of knowing
that what you place in my hands shall be sacredly devoted to the cause
of Christian benevolence, which I am sure you ardently love. With this
she expressed herself satisfied; and continued her toils and prayers.
It may be asked, What was the result? The answer is recorded with
pleasure, and, I trust, with gratitude to God. Besides punctually
attending all the meetings of the church, and laboring much in private
for the eternal welfare of souls; besides supporting her family with
more ease than formerly, as she stated to her pastor, at the close of
the first year, and paying her assessments in several charitable
societies to which she belonged, and also contributing something
whenever a public collection was taken for benevolent objects; in
addition to all this, she had placed in my hands ten dollars and a half,
which was appropriated as stated above. Her donations for objects of
religious charity must have amounted to at least _twelve dollars_ during
that year, which, it is presumed, exceeded the amount given for similar
objects by any other member of the church, although quite a number
possessed a comfortable share of wealth. It may be thought that she was
engaged in some business which yielded a handsome profit to reward her
toils. But no; her business was shoe-binding, not then by any means very
profitable. And who, with her disposition and spirit, could not do
something to aid the cause of God? But what she earned and gave was not
all. Her prayers, it is believed, had secured for the church a pastor,
and been the means, with others, of the commencement of a revival of
religion, which continued to prevail to a greater or less extent, for
three successive years, during which time a large number were hopefully
converted and added to the church: and among them several of her older
children, who were away from home.
ELIZABETH ESTAUGH.
A perfect woman, nobly planned,
To warn, to comfort and command;
And yet a spirit still, and bright
With something of an angel light.
WORDSWORTH.
Elizabeth Haddon was the oldest daughter of John Haddon, a well educated
and wealthy, yet humble, Quaker, of London. She had two sisters, both of
whom, with herself, received the highest finish of a practical
education. Elizabeth possessed uncommon strength of mind, earnestness,
energy and originality of character, and a heart overflowing with the
kindest and warmest feelings. A single anecdote of her childhood, told
by Mrs. Child, will illustrate the nobleness of nature which
characterized her life:
"At one time, she asked to have a large cake baked, because she wanted
to invite some little girls. All her small funds were expended for
oranges and candy on this occasion. When the time arrived, her father
and mother were much surprised to see her lead in six little ragged
beggars. They were, however, too sincerely humble and religious to
_express_ any surprise. They treated the forlorn little ones very
tenderly, and freely granted their daughter's request to give them some
of her books and playthings at parting. When they had gone, the good
mother quietly said, 'Elizabeth, why didst thou invite strangers,
instead of thy schoolmates?' There was a heavenly expression in her eye,
as she looked up earnestly, and answered, 'Mother, I wanted to invite
_them_, they looked _so_ poor.'"
When eleven years of age, she accompanied her parents to the Yearly
Meeting of the Friends, where she heard, among other preachers, a very
young man named John Estaugh, with whose manner of presenting divine
truth she was particularly pleased. Many of his words were treasured in
her memory. At the age of seventeen she made a profession of religion,
uniting herself with the Quakers.
During her early youth, William Penn visited the house of her father,
and greatly amused her by describing his adventures with the Indians.
From that time she became interested in the emigrant Quakers, and early
began to talk of coming to America. Her father at length purchased a
tract of land in New Jersey, with the view of emigrating, but his
affairs took a new turn, and he made up his mind to remain in his native
land. This decision disappointed Elizabeth. She had cherished the
conviction that it was her duty to come to this country; and when, at
length, her father, who was unwilling that any of his property should
lie unimproved, offered the tract of land in New Jersey to any relative
who would settle upon it, she promptly agreed to accept of the
proffered estate. Willing that their child should follow in the path of
duty, at the end of three months, and after much prayer, the parents
consented to let Elizabeth join "the Lord's people in the New World."
Accordingly, early in the spring of 1700, writes Mrs. Child, in whose
sweet language, slightly condensed, the rest of the narrative is told,
arrangements were made for her departure, and all things were provided
that the abundance of wealth, or the ingenuity of affection, could
devise.
A poor widow of good sense and discretion accompanied her, as friend and
housekeeper, and two trusty men servants, members of the Society of
Friends. Among the many singular manifestations of strong faith and
religious zeal, connected with the settlement of this country, few are
more remarkable than the voluntary separation of this girl of eighteen
years old from a wealthy home and all the pleasant associations of
childhood, to go to a distant and thinly inhabited country, to fulfill
what she considered a religious duty. And the humble, self-sacrificing
faith of the parents, in giving up their child, with such reverend
tenderness for the promptings of her own conscience, has in it something
sublimely beautiful, if we look at it in its own pure light. The parting
took place with more love than words can express, and yet without a tear
on either side. Even during the long and tedious voyage, Elizabeth never
wept. She preserved a martyr-like cheerfulness and serenity to the end.