again seized by the Indians, and, desperately regardless of her own
safety, was doing all in her power to help her besieged friends. She
would knock the priming out of the guns carried by the savages, and when
they presented them to fire, would throw them up, so that the discharge
might prove harmless. She was often heard to say, afterwards, that all
fear had left her, and she thought only of those within the building,
for she expected for herself neither deliverance nor mercy. Melbury
continued to fire whenever one of the enemy appeared; they kept
themselves, however, concealed, for the most part, behind trees or the
outhouse. Several were wounded by his cool and well-directed shots, and
at length, tired of the contest, the Indians retreated, carrying Mrs.
McKenny with them. She now resisted with all her strength, preferring
instant death to the more terrible fate of a captive in the hands of the
fierce Cherokees. Her refusal to go forward irritated her captors, and
when they had dragged her about half a mile, near a rock upon the
plantation now occupied by John Culp, she received a second blow with
the tomahawk which stretched her insensible upon the ground. When after
some time consciousness returned, she found herself lying upon the rock,
to which she had been dragged from the spot where she fell. She was
stripped naked, and her scalp had been taken off. By degrees the
knowledge of her condition, and the desire of obtaining help came upon
her. She lifted up her head, and looking around, saw the wretches who
had so cruelly mangled her, pulling ears of corn from a field near, to
roast for their meal. She laid her head quickly down again, well knowing
that if they saw her alive, they would not be slack in coming to finish
the work of death. Thus she lay motionless till all was silent, and she
found they were gone; then, with great pain and difficulty, she dragged
herself back to the house. It may be imagined with what feelings the
unfortunate woman was received by her friends and children, and how she
met the bereaved mother, wounded unto death, who had suffered for her
attempt to save others. One of the blows received by Mrs. McKenny had
made a deep wound in her back; the others were upon her head....
"The wounds in Mrs. McKenny's head never healed entirely; but continued
to break out occasionally, so that the blood flowing from them stained
the bed at night, and sometimes fragments of bone came off;
nevertheless, she lived many years afterwards and bore several children.
She was at the time with child, and in about three months gave birth to
a daughter--Hannah, afterwards married to John Stedman--and living in
Tennessee in 1827. This child was plainly marked with a tomahawk and
drops of blood, as if running down the side of her face. The families of
McKenny and McFadden, residing on Fishing creek, are descended from this
Barbara McKenny; but most of her descendants have emigrated to the West.
The above mentioned occurrence is narrated in a manuscript in the
hand-writing of her grandson, Robert McFadden."[82]
[82] Women of the Revolution, vol. 3.
THE FISHERMAN'S HEROIC WIFE.
Strong affection
Contends with all things, and o'ercometh all things.
JOANNA BAILLIE.
"One of the small islands in Boston bay was inhabited by a single poor
family. The father was taken suddenly ill. There was no physician. The
wife, on whom every labor for the household devolved, was sleepless in
care and tenderness by the bedside of her suffering husband. Every
remedy in her power to procure was administered, but the disease was
acute, and he died.
"Seven young children mourned around the lifeless corpse. They were the
sole beings upon that desolate spot. Did the mother indulge the grief of
her spirit, and sit down in despair? No: she entered upon the arduous
and sacred duties of her station. She felt that there was no hand to
assist her in burying her dead. Providing, as far as possible, for the
comfort of her little ones, she put her babe into the arms of the
oldest, and charged the two next in age to watch the corpse of their
father. She unmoored her husband's fishing boat, which, but two days
before, he had guided over the seas, to obtain food for his family. She
dared not yield to those tender recollections, which might have unnerved
her arm. The nearest island was at the distance of three miles. Strong
winds lashed the waters to foam. Over the loud billows, that wearied and
sorrowful woman rowed, and was preserved. She reached the next island,
and obtained the necessary aid. With such energy did her duty to her
desolate babes inspire her, that the voyage which depended on her
individual effort, was performed in a shorter time than the returning
one, when the oars were managed by two men, who went to assist in the
last offices to the dead."
MRS. JAMES K. POLK.
A fault doth never with remorse
Our minds so deeply move,
As when another's guiltless life
Our error doth reprove.
BRANDON.
Sarah Childress Polk is the daughter of an enterprising and wealthy
merchant of Rutherford county, Tennessee. She was married on the first
of January, 1824.
Fitted to dignify and adorn any station appropriate for woman, while
presiding at the White house she was universally esteemed, and retired
as honorably as any woman since the days of Washington. She is
intelligent, refined, unaffected, affable, courteous, hospitable, and,
above all, pious, and exemplary as a Christian. She has been for years
in communion with the Presbyterians; and while at the Capital, and the
eyes of the whole nation were upon her, she forbade, in the President's
mansion, any amusement not in keeping with the Christian profession. In
this respect, it may be said of her, in the language of Shakspeare,
Thou art not for the fashion of these times.
The following poetical tribute, from the pen and heart of Mrs. Stephens,
is well merited:
LADY! had I the wealth of earth
To offer freely at thy shrine,
Bright gold, and buds of dewy birth,
Or gems from out the teeming mine,
A thousand things most beautiful,
All sparkling, precious, rich, and rare,
These hands would render up to thee--
Thou noble lady, good and fair!
For, as I write, sweet thoughts arise
Of times when all thy kindness lent
A thousand hues of Paradise
To the fleet moments as they went;
Then all thy thoughts were winged with light,
And every smile was calm and sweet,
And thy low tones and gentle words
Made the warm heart's blood thrill and beat.
There, standing in our nation's home,
My memory ever pictures thee
As some bright dame of ancient Rome,
Modest, yet all a queen should be.
I love to keep thee in my mind,
Thus mated with the pure of old,
When love with lofty deeds combined,
Made women great and warriors bold.
When first I saw thee standing there,
And felt the pressure of thy hand,
I scarcely thought if thou wert fair,
Or of the highest in the land;
I knew thee gentle, pure as great;
All that was lovely, meek and good;
And so I half forgot thy state
In love of thy bright womanhood.
And many a sweet sensation came
That lingers in my bosom yet,
Like that celestial, holy flame
That vestals tremble to forget
And on the earth, or in the sky,
There's not a thought more true and free
Than that which beats within my heart,
In pleasant memory of thee.
Lady, I gladly would have brought
Some gem that on thy heart may live;
But this poor wreath of woven thought
Is all the wealth I have to give.
All wet with heart-dew, fresh with love,
I lay the garland at thy feet,
Praying the angel forms above
To weave thee one more pure and sweet.
THE WIDOW JENKINS.
In humblest vales the patriot heart may glow.
J. T. FIELDS.
At the time Colonel Watson, the commander of a corps of regulars and
tories, was making inroads upon the Pedee, he pitched his tent one night
near the house of a widow named Jenkins, and took up his own quarters
under her roof. Learning, in the course of the evening, that she had
three sons fighting under General Marion, he commenced the following
conversation with her:
"So, madam, they tell me you have several sons in General Marion's camp;
I hope it is not true."
She said it was very true, and was only sorry that it was not a thousand
times truer.
"A thousand times truer, madam!" replied he, with great surprise, "pray
what can be your meaning in that?"
"Why, sir, I am only sorry that in place of three, I have not three
thousand sons with General Marion."
"Aye, indeed! well then, madam, begging your pardon, you had better send
for them immediately to come in and join his majesty's troops under my
command: for as they are rebels now in arms against their king, should
they be taken, they will be hung as sure as ever they were born."
"Why, sir, you are very considerate of my sons; for which, at any rate,
I thank you. But, as you have begged my pardon for giving me this
advice, I must beg yours for not taking it. My sons, sir, are of age,
and must and will act for themselves. And as to their being in a state
of rebellion against their king, I must take the liberty, sir, to deny
that."
"What, madam! not in rebellion against their king? Shooting at and
killing his majesty's subjects like wolves! don't you call that
rebellion against their king, madam?"
"No, sir, they are only doing their duty, as God and nature commanded
them, sir."
"The d----l they are, madam!"
"Yes, sir, and what you and every man in England would glory to do
against the king, were he to dare to tax you contrary to your own
consent and the constitution of the realm. 'Tis the king, sir, who is in
rebellion against my sons, and not they against him. And could right
prevail against might, he would as certainly lose his head as ever king
Charles the First did."[83]
[83] Weems' Marion, pp. 182-3.
A FAITHFUL LITTLE GIRL.
Labor in the path of duty
Beam'd up like a thing of beauty.
C. P. CRANCH.
"A very profane and profligate sailor, who belonged to a vessel lying in
the port of New York, went out one day from his ship into the streets,
bent on folly and wickedness. He met a pious little girl, whose feelings
he tried to wound by using vile and sinful language. The little girl
looked him earnestly in the face, warned him of his danger, and, with a
solemn tone, told him to remember that he must meet her shortly at the
bar of God. This unexpected reproof greatly affected him. To use his own
language, 'it was like a broadside, raking him fore and aft, and
sweeping by the board every sail and spar prepared for a wicked cruise.'
Abashed and confounded, he returned to his ship. He could not banish
from his mind the reproof of this little girl. Her look was present to
his mind; her solemn declaration, 'You must meet me at the bar of God,'
deeply affected his heart. The more he reflected upon it, the more
uncomfortable he felt. In a few days his hard heart was subdued, and he
submitted to the Saviour."
HOSPITALITY OF CALIFORNIA WOMEN.
Blest that abode where want and pain repair,
And every stranger finds a ready chair.
GOLDSMITH.
In his Three Years in California, the Rev. Walter Colton speaks as
follows of the native women:
Their hospitality knows no bounds; they are always glad to see you, come
when you may; take a pleasure in entertaining you while you remain; and
only regret that your business calls you away. If you are sick, there is
nothing which sympathy and care can devise or perform, which is not done
for you. No sister ever hung over the throbbing brain or fluttering
pulse of a brother with more tenderness and fidelity. This is as true of
the lady whose hand has only figured her embroidery or swept her guitar,
as of the cottage-girl wringing from her laundry the foam of the
mountain stream; and all this from the _heart_! If I must be cast, in
sickness or destitution, on the care of a stranger, let it be in
California; but let it be before avarice has hardened the heart and made
a god of gold.
SARAH LANMAN SMITH.
Where'er the path of duty led,
With an unquestioning faith she trod.
T. W. RENNE.
Among the many names endeared to the friends of missions, is that of
Sarah L. Smith, a native of Norwich, Connecticut. Her maiden name was
Huntington. She was born in 1802; made a profession of religion in
youth; became the wife of the Rev. Eli Smith in July, 1833; embarked
with him for Palestine the September following; and died at Boojah, near
Smyrna, the last day of September, 1836.
Her work as a foreign missionary was quickly finished. She labored
longer as a home missionary among the Moheagans, who live in the
neighborhood of Norwich, and there displayed most conspicuously the
moral heroism of her nature. In conjunction with Sarah Breed, she
commenced her philanthropic operations in the year 1827. "The first
object that drew them from the sphere of their own church, was the
project of opening a Sabbath school for the poor Indian children of
Moheagan. Satisfied that this was a work which Heaven would approve,
they marked out their plans, and pursued them with untiring energy.
Boldly they went forth, and, guided by the rising smoke or sounding axe,
visited the Moheagans from field to field, and from hut to hut, till
they had thoroughly informed themselves of their numbers, condition, and
prospects. The opposition they encountered, the ridicule and opprobrium
showered upon them from some quarters, the sullenness of the natives,
the bluster of the white tenants, the brush wood and dry branches thrown
across their pathway, could not discourage them. They saw no 'lions in
the way,' while mercy, with pleading looks, beckoned them forward."
The Moheagans then numbered a little more than one hundred, only one of
whom was a professor of religion. She was ninety-seven years of age. In
her hut the first prayer meeting and the first Sabbath school gathered
by these young ladies, were held.
Miss Breed soon removed from that part of the country, and Miss
Huntington continued her labors for awhile alone. She was at that time
very active in securing the formation of a society and the circulation
of a subscription, having for their object the erection of a chapel. She
found, ere long, a faithful co-worker in Miss Elizabeth Raymond. They
taught a school in conjunction, and aside from their duties as teachers,
were, at times, "advisers, counsellors, lawgivers, milliners,
mantuamakers, tailoresses and almoners."[84]
[84] Missionary Offering, p. 86. We are indebted to the same source for
most of the particulars embraced in this article.
"The school was kept in a house on Fort Hill, leased to a respectable
farmer in whose family the young teachers boarded by alternate weeks,
each going to the scene of labor every other Sabbath morning and
remaining till the evening of the succeeding Sabbath, so that both were
present in the Sabbath school, which was twice as large as the other. A
single incident will serve to show the dauntless resolution which Miss
Huntington carried into her pursuits. Just at the expiration of one of
her terms of service during the winter, a heavy and tempestuous fall of
snow blocked up the roads with such high drifts, that a friend who had
been accustomed to go for her and convey her home in bad weather, and
had started for this purpose in his sleigh, turned back, discouraged. No
path had been broken, and the undertaking was so hazardous that he
conceived no female would venture forth at such a time. He therefore
called at her father's house to say that he should delay going for her
till the morrow. What was his surprise to be met at the door by the
young lady herself, who had reached home just before, having walked the
whole distance on the hard crust of snow, _alone_, and some of the way
over banks of snow that entirely obliterated the walls and fences by the
roadside."
While at Moheagan, Miss Huntington corresponded with the Hon. Lewis
Cass, then Secretary of War, and secured his influence and the aid of
that department. In 1832, a grant of nine hundred dollars was made from
the fund devoted to the Indian department, five hundred being
appropriated towards the erection of missionary buildings and four for
the support of a teacher. Before leaving the Moheagan, for a wider
field, this devoted and heroic missionary had the happiness of seeing a
chapel, parsonage and school house, standing on "the sequestered
land"[85] of her forest friends, and had thus partially repaid the debt
of social and moral obligation to a tribe who fed the first and
famishing settlers in Connecticut, and strove to protect them against
the tomahawk of inimical tribes, and whose whoop was friendly to freedom
when British aggressors were overriding American rights.
[85] That was its original name. It is a reserved tract; contains
between two and three thousand acres, and a considerable part is now
occupied by white tenants. Its situation is on the Thames, between New
London and Norwich.
A BROTHER SAVED BY HIS SISTER.
Brave spirits are a balsam to themselves.
CARTWRIGHT.
During the invasion of the Mohawk valley by Sir John Johnson, Samson
Sammons, of Johnstown, and his three sons, were taken captive early one
morning in May. The females were not made prisoners. While a soldier was
standing sentinel over the youngest son, named Thomas, who was about
eighteen, the latter, who was not more than half dressed, said he was
not going to Canada in such a plight; that he should need his shoes
especially; and asked permission to go to his chamber and get his
clothes. The favor was not granted; but Thomas, resolving to have his
shoes, stepped towards the door, when the barbarous soldier pointed a
bayonet at his back, and made a plunge. At that moment a sister, who had
watched every movement with breathless anxiety, sprang forward, seized
the gun, threw herself across its barrel, bore it to the ground, and
thus saved her brother's life. After a brief struggle, the soldier
disengaged his weapon, but before he had time to make another plunge,
an officer rushed forward and asked what was the trouble. The heroic
girl stated the case, when the soldier was severely rebuked, and her
brother permitted to obtain his shoes and all the raiment he
desired.[86]
[86] It may be interesting to the reader to know that Thomas Sammons did
not go to Canada. He was released in the afternoon of the same day, with
some other persons who had been taken prisoners during the forenoon.
Feigning extreme lameness in one foot, he attracted the attention and
excited the sympathy of the widow of a British officer: she had resided
in the neighborhood, knew many of the captives, and as some were her
personal friends, she asked Sir John to permit their release. He did so;
and on going into the field to select them, writes Colonel Stone, "she
adroitly smuggled young Sammons into the group, and led him away in
safety."
PATRIOTIC SACRIFICE OF MRS. BORDEN.
They love their land because it is their own.
HALLECK.
At the darkest period of the Revolution, New Jersey was, for a short
time, full of British soldiers, and Lord Cornwallis was stationed at
Bordentown.[87] He visited Mrs. Borden one day, at her elegant mansion,
and made an effort to intimidate her. He told her that if she would
persuade her husband and son, who were then in the American army, to
join his forces, none of her property should be destroyed; but if she
refused to make such exertions, he would burn her house, and lay waste
her whole estate. Unintimidated and patriotic, she made the following
bold reply, which caused the execution of the threat: "The sight of my
house in flames would be a treat to me, for I have seen enough to know
that you never injure what you have power to keep and enjoy. The
application of a torch to my dwelling I should regard as the signal for
your departure." And such it was.
[87] Major Garden.
MARGARET CORBIN.
Where cannon boomed, where bayonets clashed,
There was thy fiery way.
SARA J. CLARKE.
An act similar to that recorded of Mrs. Pitcher at the battle of
Monmouth, was performed by Mrs. Margaret Corbin at the attack on Fort
Washington. Her husband belonged to the artillery; and, standing by his
side and seeing him fall, she unhesitatingly took his place and
heroically performed his duties. Her services were appreciated by the
officers of the army, and honorably noticed by Congress. This body
passed the following resolution in July, 1779:
"Resolved,--That Margaret Corbin, wounded and disabled at the battle of
Fort Washington, while she heroically filled the post of her husband,
who was killed by her side serving a piece of artillery, do receive
during her natural life, or continuance of said disability, one-half the
monthly pay drawn by a soldier in service of these States; and that she
now receive out of public stores, one suit of clothes or value thereof
in money."
BRAVERY OF MRS. CHANNING.
----The truly brave,
When they behold the brave oppressed with odds,
Are touched with a desire to shield or save.
BYRON.
Soon after the commencement of the Revolutionary war, the family of Dr.
Channing,[88] being in England, removed to France, and shortly
afterwards sailed for the United States. The vessel, said to be stout
and well-armed, was attacked on the voyage by a privateer, and a fierce
engagement ensued. During its continuance, Mrs. Channing stood on the
deck, exhorting the crew not to give up, encouraging them with words of
cheer, handing them cartridges, and aiding such of them as were disabled
by wounds. When, at length, the colors of the vessel were struck, she
seized her husband's pistols and side arms, and flung them into the sea,
declaring that she would prefer death to the witnessing of their
surrender into the hands of the foe.
[88] This anecdote, which is recorded in several works, cannot refer to
the late William Ellery Channing, as he was not born at the commencement
of the Revolution.
COMMENDABLE COURAGE.
Have chivalry's bold days
A deed of wilder bravery
In all their stirring lays?
SARA J. CLARKE
An incident which occurred at one of the forts in the Mohawk valley,
might have been mentioned in connection with the heroism of Schoharie
women. It is briefly related by the author of Border Wars of the
American Revolution. "An interesting young woman," he writes, "whose
name yet lives in story among her own mountains, perceiving, as she
thought, symptoms of fear in a soldier who had been ordered to a well
without the works, and within range of the enemy's fire, for water,
snatched the bucket from his hands, and ran forth for it herself.
Without changing color, or giving the slightest evidence of fear, she
drew and brought back bucket after bucket to the thirsty soldiers, and
providentially escaped without injury."
THE HEROINE OF SHELL'S BUSH.
I dare do all that may become a man.
Who dares do more, is none.
SHAKSPEARE.