Franklin, North Carolina, May, 1848.
The distance from Murphy to this place is reported to be fifty
miles. For twenty miles the road runs in full view of Valley river,
which is worthy in every particular of the stream into which it
empties, the Owassa. It is a remarkbly cold and translucent stream,
and looks as if it ought to contain trout, but I am certain that it
does not. On inquiring of a homespun angler what fish the river did
produce, he replied: “Salmon, black trout, red horse, hog-fish,
suckers and cat-fish.” I took the liberty of doubting the
gentleman’s word, and subsequently found out that the people, of
this section of country call the legitimate _pickerel_ the “salmon,”
the _black bass_ the “black trout,” the _mullet_ the “red horse,”
and _a deformed sucker_ the “hog-fish.” And now, while I think of
it, I would intimate to my friends residing on the Ohio (to which
glorious river all the streams of this region pay tribute) that
_their_ salmon is none other than the genuine pickerel of the North
and South, their white perch only the sheep’s head of the great
lakes, and their black perch is but another name for the black or
Oswego bass. So much for a piscatorial correction.
The only _picture_ which attracted my particular attention in
passing up the fertile but generally neglected bottom lands of
Valley river, was a farm of twenty-five hundred acres, one thousand
acres being as level as a floor and highly cultivated. The soil
seemed exceedingly rich, and it was evident yielded a considerable
income to its possessor. I heard, in fact, that the proprietor had
been offered twenty-five thousand dollars for this farm. And in what
kind of a _house_ does my reader imagine this wealthy man resided?
In a miserable log hovel, a decayed and windowless one, which a
respectable member of the _swine_ family would hardly deign to
occupy. Instances something like to this had already come to my
knowledge, and caused me to wonder at the inconsistency and apparent
want of common sense manifested by some of the farmers of this
country, but this instance capped the climax. But again, the
individual alluded to is a _white man_, and prides himself upon
being more intelligent and acute than his neighbors; and yet one of
his neighbors is an _Indian woman_, who raises _only_ about _five
thousand_ bushels of potatoes per annum, but occupies a comfortable
dwelling and lives like a rational being.
After leaving the above valley, my course lay over two distinct
spurs of the Alleghanies, which are divided by the river
Nan-ti-ha-lah, and consequently called the Nan-ti-ha-lah Mountains.
In ascending the western ridge, I noticed that at the foot and
midway up the pass the trees were all arrayed in their summer
verdure, and among the forest trees were many chestnut and poplar
specimens, which were at least seven or eight feet in diameter;
while the more elevated portions of the ridge were covered with
scrub and white oak, which were entirely destitute of foliage and
not even in the budding condition. No regular cliffs frowned upon me
as I passed along, but the mountains on either side were almost
perpendicular, and in one or two places were at least twenty-five
hundred feet high. In the side of the highest of these mountains, I
was informed, is a deep fissure or cave, which extends to the summit
of the hill, where the outlet is quite small. When the wind is
blowing from the northwest it passes entirely through this long and
mysterious cavern, and when issuing from the top comes with such
force as to _throw out_ all the smaller stones which one may happen
to drop therein. In descending this spur, the road passes directly
along the margin of the most gloomy thicket imaginable. It is about
a mile wide and somewhat over three miles in length. It is rank with
vegetation, and the principal trees are laurel and hemlock. Even at
noonday it is impossible to look into it more than a half a dozen
yards, and then you but peer into the opening of leafy caves and
grottoes which are perpetually cool and very desolate. It is said to
abound in the more ferocious of wild animals, and no white man is
yet known to have mustered courage enough to explore the jungle.
During the existence of the Cherokee difficulties, the Indians were
in the habit of encamping on many places on its margin for the
purpose of easily eluding their pursuers; and it is reported of one
Indian hunter, who once entered the thicket, that he never returned,
having, as is supposed, been overpowered by some wild beast. It was
upon the margin of this horrible place, too, that the following
incident occurred. An Indian woman once happened to be travelling
down the mountain, unaccompanied by her husband, but with three
young children, two little girls and a papoose. In an unexpected
moment an enraged panther crossed their trail, and while it fell
upon and destroyed the mother and one child, the elder girl ran for
her life, carrying the infant on her back. The little heroine had
not gone over a half a mile with her burden before the panther
caught up with her, and dragged the infant from her grasp; and while
the savage creature was destroying this third victim, the little
girl made her escape to a neighboring encampment.
The river Nan-ti-ha-lah, or the _Woman’s Bosom_, was so named on
account of its undulating and narrow valley, and its own intrinsic
purity and loveliness. Upon this river is situated a rude but
comfortable cabin, which is the only one the traveller meets with in
going a distance of twenty miles. On first approaching this cabin, I
noticed a couple of sweet little girls playing on the greensward
before the door with a beautiful fawn, which was as tame as a lamb.
This group, taken in connection with the wildness of the surrounding
scene, gave me a most delightful feeling, the contrast was so
strange and unexpected. The proprietor of the cabin owns about five
thousand acres of land in this wilderness region, and is by
profession a grazing farmer. He raises a goodly number of cattle as
well as horses and mules, and his principal markets for them are
Charleston and Savannah, to which cities he performs a pilgrimage in
the autumn of every year. He is one of the “oldest inhabitants” of
the region, and as I spent one night under his roof, I took occasion
to draw from him a few anecdotes connected with his own experience.
On questioning him with regard to the true character of the panther,
he replied as follows: “I don’t know _much_ about this animal, but I
have had one chance to study their nature which I can’t forget. It
was a very dark night, and I was belated on the western ridge, near
the Big Laurel ravine. I was jogging along at a slow rate, when my
horse made a terrible leap aside, and I saw directly in front of me
one of the biggest of panthers. He soon uttered a shriek or scream
(which sounded like a woman in distress) and got out of the way, so
that I could pass along. Every bone in my horse’s body trembled with
fear, and I can tell you that my own feelings were pretty squally.
On my way was I still jogging, when the panther again made his
appearance, just as he had before, and gave another of his infernal
yells. I had no weapon with me, and I now thought I was a gone case.
Again did the animal disappear, and again did I continue on my
journey. I had not gone more than a hundred yards before I saw, on
the upper side of the road, what looked like a couple of balls of
fire, and just as I endeavored to urge my horse a little faster,
another dreadful scream rang far down the valley. But, to make a
long story short, this animal followed me until I got within a half
a mile of my house, and, though he _ran around_ me at least a dozen
times, and uttered more than a dozen screams, he never touched me,
and I got safely home. If you can gather any information from this
adventure you are welcome to it; but all I know about the animal is
this, that I hate him as I do the devil.”
My host informed me that he was one of the men appointed by the
Government to assess the property of the Cherokees at the time of
their removal, and was subsequently employed to aid in their coerced
removal. With a view of pacifying the Indians, it had been
stipulated that the cabin and improvements of each Indian should be
assessed, and an equivalent in money should be paid into his hands
for said property; and a part of the nation, it will be remembered,
including the head chief, were opposed to the treaty of banishment.
In fulfilling his duties as a Government officer, my informant
endured many hardships, subjected himself to much peril, and met
with many touching as well as some ridiculous scenes. In the course
of a few months he visited, in connection with his assistant and
interpreter, every cabin in the counties of Cherokee and Macon; and,
from the numerous adventures which he related to me, I will record
two or three.
“At one time,” said my friend, “we arrived at a cabin where we knew
resided, ‘solitary and alone,’ an old bachelor Indian. It was night,
and very cold and stormy. As we were tying our horses the Indian
heard us, and, knowing our business, immediately arose and fastened
his door that we should not get in. We remonstrated from without,
and told him we were almost frozen, and he must admit us, but never
a word would he answer; and this was repeated several times. We
finally got mad and knocked down the door and entered. The Indian
was lying upon a bench before the fire, and by his side were four
dogs. We asked him a number of questions, but still did he keep
silent. We had by this time made up our minds to ‘take care of
number one,’ and proceeded to cook our bacon. In doing this we had
great difficulty on account of the dogs, which were almost starved
to death, and were constantly grabbing up our victuals from the
coals. They were the ugliest animals that I ever saw, and did not
care a pin for the heavy licks that we gave them. And the only way
we could get along was for the interpreter to cook the meat, while
my assistant and myself seated ourselves at the two corners of the
hearth, and as the dogs jumped over the body of the Indian, (who was
yet lying on his bench,) we would grab them by the neck and tail and
pitch them across the room. So this interesting business continued
until the meat was cooked. I then took a slice, put it on a piece of
bread, and giving it to the Indian, said to him: ‘Now don’t be a
fool, take this meat and be good friends, for we don’t want to
injure you.’ Whereupon he got over his resentment, took the meat,
and began talking so that we could not stop him.”
But another incident related to me was truly affecting, and occurred
at the time of removal. “There was an old Indian,” continued my
host, “named _Euchellah_, who had thrown out the idea that he was a
strong man, and never would submit to leave his cabin willingly:
those who wanted him to go must take him by force. It was in the
forenoon, and a whole posse of officers entered his cabin, and after
a pretty severe scuffle we succeeded in fastening the old fellow’s
arms and hands with a rope. He now saw that he must go, and told his
wife to get ready, and she got ready _by going out to feed her pig
and the chickens_, just as if she was coming back in a few hours. We
then started with our prisoners, and just as we were crossing a hill
which overlooked the Indian’s cabin, he suddenly wheeled about, and
as his eyes fell upon his little garden and his hut, he burst into
tears, and I thought the man’s heart would break. And now when
people tell me that the Indian never weeps, I tell them it’s no such
thing; but, it was true, _Euchellah_ had some reason to feel bad;
for he had four children buried near his cabin, and had lived there
for fifty years. We continued on our way to the West, but in two
days our Indian made his escape with his wife. We hunted for them
among the mountains, and though we recaptured Euchellah, we never
could find his wife, and afterwards heard that she starved to death
on a distant mountain. The Indian was now guarded by four soldiers;
but, while crossing a certain gap, he suddenly rose upon his keepers
and killed three of them, while the other officer, as well as
himself, escaped. The Indian was again taken prisoner, tried by
court martial, and sentenced _to be executed_. When told that he was
to be shot down by a rifle ball, he manifested no fear, and, up to
the moment that he was shot down, not a tear made its appearance in
his eye. He could weep on leaving his home, but he would not weep
when he came to die. And the old man was buried on the road side,
half way between this place and Murphy.”
“But another removal incident that I remember,” continued my
landlord, “was to this effect. It was another old Indian who had a
large family and was religious. When we called to take him, he said
he only wanted to ask one favor, which was, that we would let him
_have one more prayer with his wife and children in his old cabin_.
We of course granted the request, and when he was through out came
the old fellow and said that he was ready. But just as we were
leaving the little clearing, the Indian called his wife and children
to his side, and talked to them in the most poetical and affecting
manner about their meager but much-loved possession, which they were
about to leave for ever. He then took the lead of our procession,
and without uttering a word, marched onward with a firm step. We
never heard this man’s voice again until we had passed beyond the
Mississippi.”
The scenery lying between the Nan-ti-ha-lah and this place is of the
wildest character. From the summit of the pass and along the road as
you descend to the eastward, a number of very imposing scenes
present themselves, but chief among all the hills rises the rugged
peak of _Bald Mountain_. The prospect from this point is similar to
that which I have described from Trail Mountain, but the legend
which commemorates the place is quite interesting, and accounts for
the baldness of the mountain’s top, which was formerly covered with
a dense forest. The Cherokees relate that there once existed among
those mountains a very large bird, which resembled in appearance the
green-winged hornet, and this creature was in the habit of carrying
off the younger children of the nation who happened to wander into
the woods. Very many children had mysteriously disappeared in this
manner, and the entire people declared a warfare against the
monster. A variety of means were employed for his destruction, but
without success. In process of time it was determined that the wise
men (or medicine men) of the nation should try their skill in the
business. They met in council and agreed that each one should
station himself on the summit of a mountain, and that, when the
creature was discovered, the man who made the discovery should utter
a loud halloo, which shout should be taken up by his neighbor on the
next mountain, and so continued to the end of the line, that all the
men might have a shot at the strange bird. This experiment was tried
and resulted in finding out the hiding-place of the monster, which
was a deep cavern on the eastern side of the Blue Ridge and at the
fountain-head of the river Too-ge-lah. On arriving at this place,
they found the entrance to the cavern entirely inaccessible by
mortal feet, and they therefore prayed to the Great Spirit that he
would bring out the bird from his den, and place him within reach of
their arms. Their petition was granted, for a terrible thunder-storm
immediately arose, and a stroke of lightning tore away one half of a
large mountain, and the Indians were successful in slaying their
enemy. The Great Spirit was pleased with the courage manifested by
the Cherokees during this dangerous fight, and, with a view of
rewarding the same, he willed it that all the highest mountains in
their land should thereafter be destitute of trees, so that they
might always have an opportunity of watching the movements of their
enemies.
As a sequel to this legend, it may be appropriately mentioned, that
at the head of the Too-ge-lah is to be found one of the most
remarkable curiosities in this mountain-land. It is a granite cliff,
with a smooth surface or front, half a mile long, and twelve hundred
feet high, and generally spoken of in this part of the country as
the _White-side Mountain_, or _the Devil’s Court-house_. To think of
it is almost enough to make one dizzy, but to see it fills one with
awe. Near the top of one part of this cliff is a small cave, which
can be reached only by passing over a strip of rock about two feet
wide. One man only has ever been known to enter it, and when he
performed the deed he met at the entrance of the cave a large bear,
which animal, in making its escape, slipped off the rock, fell a
distance of near a thousand feet, and was of course killed. When the
man saw this, he became so much excited that it was some hours
before he could quiet his nerves sufficiently to retrace his
dangerous pathway.