——Oh the tender ties,Close twisted with the fibres of the heart.Young.
The night before the surprise of Georgetown, Adjutant Crookshanks, one of the enemy's officers, together with some of his commissioned comrades, slept at a public house. The next morning it was surrounded, and the Adjutant would have lost his life, but for the interposition of the landlord's daughter, to whom he was affianced. Awakened and, at first, alarmed by the firing without and the bustle at the door, and hearing her lover's voice, she sprung out of bed and rushed, half dressed, into the piazza. At that moment the swords of her countrymen were raised over his head, and she threw her arms around his neck, exclaiming, "O save! save Major Crookshanks!" Though made a prisoner, he was forthwith paroled, and left, for the time, with the brave and true-hearted maiden.
Genius, the Pythian of the Beautiful,Leaves its large truths a riddle to the dull.Bulwer.
"At the commencement of the Revolution, Mrs. Wright, a native of Pennsylvania, a distinguished modeler of likenesses and figures of wax, was exhibiting specimens of her skill in London. The king of Great Britain, pleased with her talents, gave her liberal encouragement, and, finding her a great politician, and an enthusiastic republican, would often enter into discussion relative to passing occurrences, and endeavored to refute her opinion with regard to the probable issue of the war. The frankness with which she delivered her sentiments, seemed rather to please than to offend him; which was a fortunate circumstance, for, when he asked an opinion, she gave it without constraint, or the least regard to consequences. I remember to have heard her say, that on one occasion, the monarch, irritated by some disaster to his troops, where he had prognosticated a triumph, exclaimed with warmth: 'I wish, Mrs. Wright, you would tell me how it will be possible to check the silly infatuation of your countrymen,restore them to reason, and render them good and obedient subjects.'—'I consider their submission to your majesty's government is now altogether out of the question,' replied Mrs. Wright: 'friends you may make them, but never subjects; for America, before a king can reign there, must become a wilderness, without any other inhabitants than the beasts of the forest. The opponents of the decrees of your parliament, rather than submit, would perish to a man; but if the restoration of peace be seriously the object of your wishes, I am confident that it needs but the striking off ofthree headsto produce it.'—'O, Lord North's and Lord George Germaine's, beyond all question; and where is the third head?' 'O, sir, politeness forbids me to namehim. Your majesty could never wish me to forget myself, and be guilty of an incivility.'
"In her exhibition room, one group of figures particularly attracted attention; and by all who knew her sentiments, was believed to be a pointed hint at the results which might follow the wild ambition of the monarch. The busts of the king and queen of Great Britain, were placed on a table, apparently intently gazing on a head, which a figure, an excellent representation of herself, was modeling in its lap. It was the head of the unfortunate Charles the First."
Beware the bowl! though rich and brightIts rubies flash upon the sight,An adder coils its depths beneath,Whose lure is woe, whose sting is death.Street.
In the years 1801 and 1802, great efforts were made by the chiefs of the Mohawk Indians to prevent the sale of spirituous liquors among their people. In this humane movement the women of the tribe readily joined; and having assembled in council, on the twenty-second of May, 1802, they addressed the chiefs, whom they had summoned, as follows:
"Uncles,—Some time ago the women of this place spoke to you, but you did not then answer them, as you considered their meeting not sufficient. Now, a considerable number of those from below having met and consulted together, join in sentiment, and lament, as it were with tears in our eyes, the many misfortunes caused by the use of spirituous liquors. We therefore mutually request that you will use your endeavors to have it removed from our neighborhood, that there may be none sold nigher to usthan the mountain. We flatter ourselves that this is in your power, and that you will have compassion on our uneasiness, and exert yourselves to have it done."
Strings of Wampum.
This appeal had a good effect on the chiefs; and received suitable attention, drawing from them the following reply. It was delivered by Captain Brant:
"Nieces,—We are fully convinced of the justice of your request; drinking has caused the many misfortunes in this place, and has been, besides, a great cause of the divisions, by the effect it has upon the people's speech. We assure you, therefore, that we will use our endeavours to effect what you desire. However, it depends in a great measure upon government, as the distance you propose is within their line. We cannot, therefore, absolutely promise that our request will be complied with."
Strings.29
She'll be a soldier too, she'll to the wars.Shakspeare.
Deborah Samson, the daughter of very poor parents, of Plymouth county, Massachusetts, began, when about twenty years of age, to feel the patriotic zeal which had prompted the sterner sex in her neighborhood to take up arms in their country's defence. She accordingly assumed male attire, and enlisted in the Revolutionary army. We agree with Mrs. Ellet that, while this course cannot be commended, her exemplary conduct, after taking the first step, goes far to plead her excuse, and is worthy of record. Her method of obtaining men's garments, and her military career, are thus narrated by the author just mentioned:
By keeping the district school for a summer term, she had amassed the sum of twelve dollars. She purchased a quantity of coarse fustian, and, working at intervals when she could be secure from observation, made up a suit of men's clothing; each article,as it was finished, being hid in a stack of hay. Having completed her preparations, she announced her intention of going where she could obtain better wages for her labor. Her new clothes and such articles as she wished to take with her, were tied in a bundle. The lonely girl departed; but went not far, probably only to the shelter of the nearest wood, before putting on the disguise she was so eager to assume. Although not beautiful, her features were animated and pleasing, and her figure, tall for a woman, was finely proportioned. As a man, she might have been called handsome; her general appearance was extremely prepossessing, and her manner calculated to inspire confidence.
She now pursued her way to the American army, where she presented herself, in October, 1778, as a young man anxious to join his efforts to those of his countrymen, in their endeavors to oppose the common enemy. Her acquaintances, meanwhile, supposed her engaged in service at a distance. Rumors of her elopement with a British soldier, and even of her death, were afterwards current in the neighborhood where she had resided; but none were sufficiently interested to make such search for her as might have led to a discovery.
Distrusting her own constancy, and resolute to continue in the service, notwithstanding any change of her inclination, she enlisted for the whole term of the war. She was received and enrolled in the army by the name of Robert Shirtliffe. She was one of the first volunteers in the company of Captain NathanThayer of Medway, Massachusetts; and as the young recruit appeared to have no home or connections, the Captain gave her a home in his family until his company should be full, when they were to join the main army.
We now find her performing the duties and enduring the fatigues of military life. During the seven weeks she passed in the family of Captain Thayer, she had time both for experience and reflection; but, in after years, her constant declaration was that she never, for one moment, repented or regretted the step she had taken. Accustomed to labor from childhood, upon the farm and in out-door employment, she had acquired unusual vigor of constitution; her frame was robust, and of masculine strength; and having thus gained a degree of hardihood, she was enabled to acquire great expertness and precision in the manual exercise, and to undergo what a female delicately nurtured would have found it impossible to endure. Soon after they had joined the company, the recruits were supplied with uniforms by a kind of lottery. That drawn by Robert did not fit; but, taking needle and scissors, he soon altered it to suit him. To Mrs. Thayer's expression of surprise, at finding a young man so expert in using the implements of feminine industry, the answer was—that his mother having no girl, he had been often obliged to practice the seamstress's art.
While in the house of Captain Thayer, a young girl visiting his wife, was much in the society of Deborah, or, as she was then called, Robert. Coquettishby nature, and perhaps priding herself on the conquest of the "blooming soldier," she suffered her growing partiality to be perceived. Robert, on his part, felt a curiosity to learn by new experience how soon a maiden's fancy might be won; and had no scruples in paying attentions to one so volatile and fond of flirtation, with whom it was not likely the impression would be lasting. This little piece of romance gave some uneasiness to the worthy Mrs. Thayer, who could not help observing that the liking of her fair visitor for Robert was not fully reciprocated. She took an opportunity of remonstrating with the young soldier, and showed what unhappiness might be the consequence of such folly, and how unworthy it was of a brave man to trifle with a girl's feelings. The caution was taken in good part, and it is not known that the "love passage" was continued, though Robert received at parting some tokens of remembrance, which were treasured as relics in after years.
For three years our heroine appeared in the character of a soldier, being part of the time employed as a waiter in the family of Colonel Patterson. During this time, and in both situations, her exemplary conduct, and the fidelity with which her duties were performed, gained the approbation and confidence of the officers. She was a volunteer in several hazardous enterprizes, and was twice wounded, the first time by a sword cut on the left side of the head. Many were the adventures she passed through; as she herself would often say, volumes might be filled with them.Sometimes placed, unavoidably, in circumstances in which she feared detection, she nevertheless escaped without the least suspicion being awakened among her comrades. The soldiers were in the habit of calling her "Molly," in playful allusion to her want of a beard; but not one of them ever dreamed that the gallant youth fighting by their side, was in reality a female.
About four months after her first wound she received another severe one, being shot through the shoulder. Her first emotion when the ball entered, she described to be a sickening terror at the probability that her sex would be discovered. She felt that death on the battle-field were preferable to the shame that would overwhelm her, and ardently prayed that the wound might close her earthly campaign. But, strange as it may seem, she escaped this time also unsuspected; and soon recovering her strength, was able again to take her place at the post of duty, and in the deadly conflict. Her immunity was not, however, destined long to continue—she was seized with a brain fever, then prevalent among the soldiers. For the few days that reason struggled against the disease, her sufferings were indescribable; and most terrible of all was the dread lest consciousness should desert her, and the secret she had guarded so carefully be revealed to those around her. She was carried to the hospital, and there could only ascribe her escape to the number of patients, and the negligent manner in which they were attended. Her case was considered a hopeless one, and she perhapsreceived less attention on this account. One day the physician of the hospital, inquiring—"How is Robert?" received from the nurse in attendance the answer—"Poor Bob is gone." The doctor went to the bed, and taking the hand of the youth supposed dead, found that the pulse was still feebly beating; attempting to place his hand on the heart, he perceived that a bandage was fastened tightly around the breast. This was removed, and to his utter astonishment he discovered a female patient where he had least expected one!
This gentleman was Dr. Binney, of Philadelphia. With a prudence, delicacy and generosity, ever afterwards warmly appreciated by the unfortunate sufferer, he said not a word of his discovery, but paid her every attention, and provided every comfort her perilous condition required. As soon as she could be removed with safety, he had her taken to his own house, where she could receive better care. His family wondered not a little at the unusual interest manifested for the poor invalid soldier.
Here occurred another of those romances in real life, which in strangeness surpass fiction. The doctor had a young and lovely niece, an heiress to considerable property, whose compassionate feelings led her to join her uncle in bestowing kindness on the friendless youth. Many censured the uncle's imprudence in permitting them to be so much in each other's society, and to take drives so frequently together. The doctor laughed to himself at the warnings and hints he received, and thought how foolish the censoriouswould feel when the truth should come out. His knowledge, meanwhile, was buried in his own bosom, nor shared even with the members of his family. The niece was allowed to be as much with the invalid as suited her pleasure. Her gentle heart was touched by the misfortunes she had contributed to alleviate; the pale and melancholy soldier, for whose fate no one seemed to care, who had no possession in the world save his sword, who had suffered so much in the cause of liberty, became dear to her. She saw his gratitude for the benefits and kindness received, yet knew by intuition that he would never dare aspire to the hand of one so gifted by fortune. In the confiding abandonment of woman's love, the fair girl made known her attachment, and offered to provide for the education of its object before marriage. Deborah often declared that the moment in which she learned that she had unwittingly gained the love of a being so guileless, was fraught with the keenest anguish she ever experienced. In return for the hospitality and tender care that had been lavished upon her, she had inflicted pain upon one she would have died to shield. Her former entanglement had caused no uneasiness, but this was a heart of a different mould; no way of amends seemed open, except confession of her real character, and to that, though impelled by remorse and self-reproach, she could not bring herself. She merely said to the generous girl, that they would meet again; and, though ardently desiring the possession of an education, that she could not avail herself of the noble offer. Before her departure,the young lady pressed on her acceptance several articles of needful clothing, such as in those times many of the soldiers received from fair hands. All these were afterwards lost by the upsetting of a boat, except the shirt and vest Robert had on at the time, which are still preserved as relics in the family.
Her health being now nearly restored, the physician had a long conference with the commanding officer of the company in which Robert had served, and this was followed by an order to the youth to carry a letter to General Washington.
Her worst fears were now confirmed. From the time of her removal into the doctor's family, she had cherished a misgiving which sometimes amounted almost to a certainty, that he had discovered her deception. In conversation with him she anxiously watched his countenance, but not a word or look indicated suspicion, and she had again flattered herself that she was safe from detection. When the order came for her to deliver a letter into the hands of the Commander-in-chief, she could no longer deceive herself.
There remained no course but simple obedience. When she presented herself for admission at the head-quarters of Washington, she trembled as she had never done before the enemy's fire. Her heart sunk within her: she strove in vain to collect and compose herself, and, overpowered with dread and uncertainty, was ushered into the presence of the Chief. He noticed her extreme agitation, and, supposing it to proceed from diffidence, kindly endeavoredto re-assure her. He then bade her retire with an attendant, who was directed to offer her some refreshment, while he read the communication of which she had been the bearer.
Within a short time she was again summoned into the presence of Washington. He said not a word, but handed her in silence a discharge from the service, putting into her hand at the same time a note containing a few brief words of advice, and a sum of money sufficient to bear her expenses to some place where she might find a home. The delicacy and forbearance thus observed affected her sensibly. "How thankful," she has often said, "was I to that great and good man who so kindly spared my feelings! He saw me ready to sink with shame; one word from him at that moment would have crushed me to the earth. But he spoke no word—and I blessed him for it."
After the termination of the war, she married Benjamin Gannett, of Sharon. When Washington was President, she received a letter inviting Robert Shirtliffe, or rather Mrs. Gannett, to visit the seat of government. Congress was then in session, and during her stay at the capital, a bill was passed granting her a pension in addition to certain lands, which she was to receive as an acknowledgment for her services to the country in a military capacity. She was invited to the houses of several of the officers, and to parties given in the city; attentions which manifested the high estimation in which she was there held.
Stranger, whoe'er thou art, securely restAffianced in my faith, a friendly guest.Pope.
At the close of the last war, John and Elizabeth Brant, children of the celebrated warrior, took possession of their father's mansion at the head of lake Ontario, and dispensed his "ancient hospitalities." While making the tour of Canada West with two of his daughters, in 1819, James Buchanan, Esq., British consul for the port of New York, visited the "Brant House," and afterwards published the following interesting account in a small volume of Indian sketches:
"After stopping more than a week under the truly hospitable roof of the Honorable Colonel Clarke, at the Falls of Niagara, I determined to proceed by land, round lake Ontario, to York; and Mrs. Clarke offered to give my daughters a letter of introduction to a Miss Brant, advising us to arrange our time so as to sleep and stop a day or two in the house of that lady, as she was certain we should be much pleased with her and her brother. Our friend didnot intimate, still less did we suspect, that the introduction was to an Indian prince and princess. Had we been in the least aware of this, our previous arrangements would all have given way, as there was nothing I was more anxious to obtain than an opportunity such as this was so well calculated to afford, of seeing in what degree the Indian character would be modified by a conformity to the habits and comforts of civilized life.
"Proceeding on our journey, we stopped at an inn, romantically situated, where I determined to remain all night. Among other things, I inquired of the landlord if he knew the distance to Miss Brant's house, and from him I learned that it was about twenty miles farther. He added, that young Mr. Brant had passed that way in the forenoon, and would, no doubt, be returning in the evening, and that, if I wished it, he would be on the lookout for him. This I desired the landlord to do, as it would enable me to intimate our introduction to his sister, and intention of waiting on her the next morning.
"At dusk Mr. Brant returned, and, being introduced into our room, we were unable to distinguish his complexion, and conversed with him, believing him to be a young Canadian gentleman. We did not, however, fail to observe a certain degree of hesitation and reserve in the manner of his speech. He certainly expressed a wish that we would do his sister and himself the favor of spending a few days with them, in order to refresh ourselves and ourhorses: but we thought his style more laconic than hospitable. Before candles were brought in our new friend departed, leaving us still in error as to his nation.
"By four o'clock in the morning we resumed our journey. On arriving at the magnificent shores of lake Ontario, the driver of our carriage pointed out, at the distance of five miles, the house of Miss Brant, which had a very noble and commanding aspect; and we anticipated much pleasure in our visit. Young Mr. Brant, it appeared, unaware that with our carriage we could have reached his house so soon, had not arrived before us; so that our approach was not announced, and we drove up to the door under the full persuasion that the family would be apprised of our coming. The outer door, leading to a spacious hall, was open. We entered and remained a few minutes, when, seeing no person about, we proceeded into the parlor, which, like the hall, was for the moment unoccupied. We therefore had an opportunity of looking about us at our leisure. It was a room well furnished, with a carpet, pier and chimney glasses, mahogany tables, fashionable chairs, a guitar, a neat hanging bookcase, in which, among other volumes, we perceived a Church of England Prayer Book, translated into the Mohawk tongue. Having sent our note of introduction in by the coachman, and still no person waiting on us, we began to suspect (more especially in the hungry state we were in) that some delay or difficulty about breakfast stood in the way of the young lady'sappearance. I can assure my readers that a keen morning's ride on the shores of an American lake is an exercise of all others calculated to make the appetite clamorous, if not insolent. We had already penetrated into the parlor, and were beginning to meditate a farther exploration in search of the pantry, when, to our unspeakable astonishment, in walked a charming, noble-looking Indian girl, dressed partly in the native and partly in the English costume. Her hair was confined on the head in a silk net, but the lower tresses, escaping from thence, flowed down on her shoulders. Under a tunic or morning dress of black silk was a petticoat of the same material and color, which reached very little below the knee. Her silk stockings and kid shoes were, like the rest of her dress, black. The grace and dignity of her movement, the style of her dress and manner, so new, so unexpected, filled us all with astonishment. With great ease, yet by no means in that commonplace mode so generally prevalent on such occasions, she inquired how we found the roads, accommodations, etc. No flutter was at all apparent on account of the delay in getting breakfast; no fidgeting and fuss-making, no running in and out, no idle expressions of regret, such as 'Oh! dear me! had I known of your coming, you would not have been kept in this way!' but, with perfect ease she maintained conversation, until a squaw, wearing a man's hat, brought in a tray with preparations for breakfast. A table-cloth of fine white damask being laid, we were regaled with tea, coffee,hot rolls, butter in water and ice-coolers, eggs, smoked beef, ham, broiled chickens, etc., all served in a truly neat and comfortable style. The delay, we afterwards discovered, arose from the desire of our hostess to supply us with hot rolls, which were actually baked while we were waiting. I have been thus minute in my description of these comforts, as they were so little to be expected in the house of an Indian.
"After breakfast Miss Brant took my daughters out to walk, and look at the picturesque scenery of the country. She and her brother had previously expressed a hope that we would stay all day; but, though I wished of all things to do so, and had determined, in the event of their pressing their invitation, to accept it, yet I declined the proposal at first, and thus forfeited a pleasure which we all of us longed in our hearts to enjoy; for, as I afterward learned, it is not the custom of any uncorrupted Indian to repeat a request if once rejected. They believe that those to whom they offer any mark of friendship, and who give a reason for refusing it, do so in perfect sincerity, and that it would be rudeness to require them to alter their determination or break their word. And as the Indian never makes a show of civility but when prompted by a genuine feeling, so he thinks others are actuated by a similar candor. I really feel ashamed when I consider how severe a rebuke this carries with it to us who boast of civilization, but who are so much carried away by the general insincerity of expression pervadingall ranks, that few, indeed, are to be found who speak just what they wish or know. This duplicity is the effect of what is termed a high state of refinement. We are taught so to conduct our language that others cannot discover our real views or intentions. The Indians are not only free from this deceitfulness, but surpass us in another instance of good breeding and decorum, namely, of never interrupting those who converse with them until they have done speaking; and then they reply in the hope of not being themselves interrupted. This was perfectly exemplified by Miss Brant and her brother; and I hope the lesson my daughters were so forcibly taught by the natural politeness of their hostess will never be forgotten by them, and that I also may profit by the example."
Elizabeth was the youngest daughter of Joseph Brant. She was married to William Johnson Kerr, a gentleman who bore a commission in the last war, and fought against the Americans on the Niagara frontier. He is a grandson of Sir William Johnson. The author of American Border Wars, wrote in 1843, as follows: "Mrs. Kerr, as the reader must infer from what has been previously said respecting her, was educated with great care, as well in regard to her mental culture as her personal accomplishments. With her husband and little family, she now occupies the old mansion of her father, at the head of lake Ontario; a noble situation, as the author can certify from personal observation."
The worthy acts of women to repeat.Mirror for Magistrates.
Immediately after the dreadful massacre of Virginia colonists, on the twenty-second of March, 1622, Governor Wyat issued an order for the remainder of the people to "draw together" into a "narrow compass;"[91]and most of the eighty plantations were forthwith abandoned. Among the persons who remained at their homes, was Mrs. Proctor, whom Dr. Belknap calls "a gentlewoman of an heroic spirit."[92]She defended her plantation against the Indians a full month, and would not have abandoned it even then, had not the officers of the colony obliged her to do so.
One of the best women of her times was Experience West, wife of the Rev. Dr. West, who was pastor of a church in New Bedford, Massachusetts, for nearly half a century. Her life abounded in praiseworthy, though unrecorded, deeds. The Doctorwas aware of the worth of his "help-meet," and had a punning way of praising her which must have sounded odd in a Puritan divine a hundred years ago. She was unusually tall, and he sometimes remarked to intimate friends, that he had found, bylong Experience, that it is good to be married.
The Rev. Dr. Mather Byles, of Boston, a tory of considerable notoriety, paid unsuccessful addresses to a young lady who subsequently gave her hand to a gentleman of the name of Quincy. Meeting her one day, the Doctor remarked: "So, madam, it appears that you prefer a Quincy to Byles." "Yes," she replied, "for if there had been any thing worse thanbiles, God would have afflicted Job with them."[93]
A married Shawnee woman was once asked by a man who met her in the woods, to look upon and love him: "Oulman, my husband, who is forever before my eyes, hinders me from seeing you or any other person."
While the husband of Mrs. Dissosway, of Staten island, was in the hands of the British, her brother Nathaniel Randolph, a Captain in the American army, repeatedly and greatly annoyed the tories; and they were anxious to be freed from his incursions. Accordingly, one of their colonels promised Mrs. Dissosway to procure her husband's release, if she would prevail upon her brother to leave the army. She scornfully replied: "And if I could act so dastardly a part, think you that General Washington has but one Captain Randolph in his army?"
When, by permission of the British authorities, the wife of Daniel Hall was once going to John's island, near Charleston, to see her mother, one of the king's officers stopped her and ordered her to surrender the key of her trunk. On her asking him what he wished to look for, he replied, "For treason, madam." "Then," said she, "you may be saved the trouble of search, for you may find enough of it at my tongue's end."[94]
When a party of Revolutionary patriots left Pleasant River settlement, in Maine, on an expedition, one of the number forgot his powder horn, and his wife, knowing he would greatly need it, ran twenty miles through the woods before she overtook him.
When the village of Buffalo was burnt during the last war, only one dwelling-house was suffered to stand. Its owner, Mrs. St. John, was a woman ofwonderful courage and self-possession; and when the Indians came to fire it, and destroy its inmates, she ordered them away in such a dignified, resolute and commanding, yet conciliatory, manner, that they seemed to be awed in her presence, and were kept at bay until some British officers rode up and ordered them to desist from the work of destruction. Saved by her presence of mind and heroic bravery, she who saw her neighbors butchered at their doors and the young village laid in ashes, lived to see a new village spring up, phoenix-like, and expand into a city of thirty-five thousand inhabitants.
Mrs. Beckham, who resided in the neighborhood of Pacolet river, South Carolina, was a true friend of freedom, and a great sufferer on that account. Tarleton, after sharing in her hospitality, pillaged her house, and then ordered its destruction. Her eloquent remonstrance, however, caused him to recall the order. Concealing a guinea in her braided hair, she once went eighty miles to Granby, purchased a bag of salt, and safely returned with it on the saddle under her.[95]
The house of Captain Charles Sims, who resided on Tyger river, South Carolina, was often plundered by tories; and on one of these occasions, when his wife was alone and all the robbers had departed but one, she orderedhimaway, and he disobeying, she broke his arm with a stick, and drove him from the house.
Several years ago, a family, residing on the Colorado, in Texas, were attacked by a party of Camanche Indians, who first fell upon two workmen in the fields and slew them. Seeing one of them fall, the proprietor of the establishment, who was standing near his house, caught two guns and ran towards the field. A daughter hastily put on her brother's hat and surtout, and followed her father. She soon overtook him, and persuaded him to return to the house. She bravely assisted in guarding it until the Indians, tired of the assault, departed.
In the year 1777, when General Burgoyne entered the valley of the Hudson, the wife of General Schuyler hastened to Saratoga, her husband's country seat, to secure her furniture. "Her carriage," writes the biographer of Brant, "was attended by only a single armed man on horseback. When within two miles of her house, she encountered a crowd of panic-stricken people, who recited to her the tragic fate of Miss M'Crea,[96]and, representing to her the danger of proceeding farther in the face of the enemy, urged her to return. She had yet to pass through a dense forest within which even then some of the savagetroops might be lurking for prey. But to these prudential counsels she would not listen. 'The General's wife,' said she, 'must not be afraid!' and, pushing forward, she accomplished her purpose."
While Thomas Crittenden, the first Governor of Vermont, was discharging the functions of an executive, he was waited upon one day, in an official capacity, by several gentlemen from Albany. The visitors were of the higher class, and accompanied by their aristocratic wives. At noon the hostess summoned the workmen from the fields, and seated them at the table with her fashionable visitors. When the females had retired from the dinner table to an apartment by themselves, one of the visitors said to the lady of the house, "You do not usually have your hired laborers sit down at the first tabledo you?" "Why yes, madam," Mrs. Crittenden replied, "we have thus far done so, but are now thinking of making a different arrangement. The Governor and myself have been talking the matter over a little, lately, and come to the conclusion that the men, who do nearly all the hard work, ought to have the first table,—and that he and I, who do so little, should be content with the second. But, in compliment to you, I thought I would have you sit down with them, to-day, at the first table."[97]
At the Fair held in Castle Garden, in the autumn of 1850, was exhibited a large Gothic arm-chair, backed and cushioned with beautifully wrought needle work in worsted. The needle work was from the hands of Mrs. Millard Fillmore. It was setting a noble example for the wife of a President to present her handiwork at an industrial exhibition; and, if the decision of the three Roman banqueters in regard to their wives, was correct—they preferring the one who was found with her maidens preparing loom-work,—Mrs. Fillmore must be ranked among the best of wives.
During the last war, Major Kennedy of South Carolina, wished to raise recruits for his troop ofhorse; and accordingly went to Mrs. Jane White, who had several hardy sons, and made known his wants. She was a true patriot, like her husband, who was an active "liberty man" in the war of '76: hence she was ready and anxious to further the Major's plans. Her sons being at work in the field, excepting the youngest, she called the lad, and ordered him, in her broad Scotch-Irish dialect, to "rin awa' ta the fiel' an' tell his brithers ta cum in an' gang an' fight for their counthry, like their father afore them."[98]
Among the fine sentiments quaintly uttered by the old dramatic poet, Webster, are these:
The chiefest action of a man of spiritIs, never to be out of action; we should thinkThe soul was never to be put into the body,Which has so many rare and curious piecesOf mathematical motion, to stand still.Virtue is ever sowing of her seeds.
One of the models in activity and virtue, and one who doubtless secured thereby the prize of healthy and extreme old age, was Mrs. Lydia Gustin, a native of Lyme, Connecticut. She had five children, all of whom were at home to celebrate the hundredth anniversary of her birth day. She died in New Hampshire, on the twentieth of July, 1847, in the hundred and second year of her age. A part of the labor performed during her hundredth year, was the knitting of twenty-four pairs of stockings.
Mrs. Elizabeth Ferguson, who resided near Philadelphia, was one of the number who assisted the American prisoners taken at the battle of Germantown. She spun linen and sent it into the city, with orders that it be made into shirts. She was noted for humanity and benevolence. Learning, one time, while visiting her friends in Philadelphia, that a reduced merchant had been imprisoned for debt, and was suffering from destitution, she sent him a bed and other articles of comfort, and, though far from wealthy, put twenty dollars in money into his hands. She refused to give him her name, but was at length identified by a description of her person.
At the battle of the Cowpens, Colonel Washington wounded Colonel Tarleton; and when the latter afterwards, in conversation with Mrs. Wiley Jones, observed to her: "You appear to think very highly of Colonel Washington; and yet I have been told that he is so ignorant a fellow that he can hardly write his own name;" she replied, "It may be the case, but no man better than yourself, Colonel, can testify that he knows how to make his mark."
To the blind, the deaf, the lame,To the ignorant and vile,Stranger, captive, slave he came,With a welcome and a smile.Help to all he did dispense,Gold, instruction, raiment, food;Like the gifts of Providence,To the evil and the good.Montgomery.
It requires the enlightening and expanding influence of Christianity to show the full extent of fraternal obligation, and to make onefeelthe wants of his brother's threefold nature. We must, therefore, look for large hearts, whose antennæ stretch through the domain of man's mental and moral, as well as his physical necessities, among a Christian people: there such hearts abound, and the strongest are among the female sex. Nor is this strange: the feelings of woman are more delicate, her constitution is less hardy, than man's. Physically more frail, she feels more sensibly the need of a helper and protector; and, being the greater sufferer, she thinks more of the sufferings of others, and consequently more fully develops the sisterly and sympathetic feelings of her nature.
It is not, therefore, surprising, that in all the humanitary movements of the age, American women are interested; but itissurprising to see with what masculine energy, heroic courage and sublime zeal they often prosecute their philanthropic labors. They lead in the distribution of the poor fund; are untiring in their efforts to sustain Sabbath schools in by-places; form and nobly sustain temperance organizations among themselves; establish and conduct infant schools on their own responsibility; manage orphan asylums; pray, and plead, and labor for the comfort of the insane, and for the education of the deaf, dumb and blind; and, with the religious tract in one hand and the Bible in the other, plunge into the darkest dens of vice, and, nerved by divine power, sow the good seed of truth in the most corrupt soil, with courage that seems to palsy the giant arm of Infamy.
Heroines in the philanthropic movements which so beautify the present age, are found in most of the villages and in every city in the land. Isabella Graham, Sarah Hoffman, Margaret Prior, and others whose names are recorded in this work, are representatives of a class whose number is annually increasing and whose philanthropic exertions are manifest wherever human suffering abounds or the current of moral turpitude is strong and appalling. With the delicacy and fragility inherent in their sex, they possess the bravery and perseverance of the ambitious leader in the military campaign, and shrink from no task, however formidable or disheartening.
They visit the abode of sickness, and the pillow is softened and the pain allayed; they enter the hut of penury, and the cry for bread is hushed, they pour the tide of united and sanctified effort through the Augean stables of iniquity, and the cleansing process is astonishing. Such is the work of philanthropic women; they are the "salt" of the community.
A lady is now living in the city of Buffalo, whose benevolent exertions, in her restricted sphere, would compare favorably with those of the celebrated Quakeress whose mission at Newgate justified, for once, at least, the use of angel as an adjective qualifying woman. The person to whom we refer—who would blush to see her name in print—is foremost in all the humane and charitable operations of the day, and has, for years, been in the habit of visiting the jail regularly and usually alone on the Sabbath, to instruct its inmates from the word of God and to lecture before them on all that pertains to human duty. She is married, and has a family—her children being adopted orphans,—hence her opportunities for public usefulness are measurably limited: but her life-long actions seem to say,
"Give me leaveTo speak my mind, and I will through and throughCleanse the foul body of the infected world,If they will patiently receive my medicine."
Aside from our female missionaries, whose heroism is elsewhere partially illustrated in this work, the finest example of a living American philanthropistis Miss D. L. Dix, of Massachusetts. Her extreme modesty, learned through her New England friends, with whom we have corresponded, withholds all facts touching her early and private history, and leaves us a paucity of materials out of which to frame even an outline of her public career.
We first hear of her as a teacher in the city of Boston, in which vocation she was faithful and honored. At the same time, she was connected, as instructor, with a Sabbath school—belonging we believe, to Dr. Channing's society—and while searching in by-places for poor children to enlarge her class, she necessarily came in contact with many destitute persons, and saw much suffering. Ere long she became interested more especially in the condition and wants of poor seamen, and endeavored to enlist the sympathies of others in their behalf. As opportunities presented themselves, she visited the hospital and other benevolent institutions in and near Boston, together with the State Prison. Anon we find her in the possession of a small legacy left by her deceased grand-mother; and, having resigned the office of teacher, she is traveling through the state. Having visited all the counties and most if not all the towns in Massachusetts, hunting up the insane and acquainting herself with their condition, visiting the inmates of the poor-houses and jails, and learning the state of things among all the unfortunate and suffering, she went to the Legislature, made a report, and petitioned for reforms where she thought they were needed.
Having thoroughly canvassed one state, feeling her benevolent heart expand, she entered another, and went through the same routine of labors—visiting, reporting, pleading for reforms. She has traveled through all the states but three or four, and has extended her humane mission to Canada.
She overlooks no almshouse; never fails of seeing and learning the history of an insane person; goes through every jail and prison; and usually, if not invariably, has a private interview with each inmate, imparting such counsel as wisdom and Christian sympathy dictate. She has lately petitioned Congress—as yet unsuccessfully—for a large appropriation of the public lands for the benefit of the insane.
Her petitions are usually presented in a very quiet and modest manner. In her travels, she acquaints herself with the leading minds, and among them the state and national legislators; and when the law-making bodies are in session, she obtains an interview with members in the retirement of the parlor or the small social gathering; communicates the facts she has collected; and secures their coöperation in her plans and their aid in effecting her purposes.
She who began the work of reform as a teacher in a Sabbath school, has advanced, step by step, until her capacious heart has embraced the Union, throughout which the benign influence of her philanthropic labors is sensibly felt. Some one has truthfully remarked that "the blessings of thousands, ready to perish, have come down upon her head," and that the institutions which she has caused to be erected ormodified in the several states "are monuments more honorable, if not more enduring than the pyramids."
While Miss Dix has brought about important reforms, she has accomplished her labors by great hardship and the most rigid economy. She had not a princely fortune, like Mrs. Fry, to expend in benevolent causes; she could not ride from place to place in her own private and splendid carriage, saying to this servant, do this, and to another, do that; she has been obliged to travel by public, haphazard conveyances—often in most uncomfortable vehicles in the most uncomfortable weather. A part of her early labors in the state of New York were performed in the winter, and when in the north-eastern and coldest part, she was under the necessity, on one occasion, of traveling all night in the severest part of the season in an open carriage. To show her economy, which has been hinted at, it is necessary merely to say that she purchases the materials for most of her garments in the places which she visits, and makes them up with her own hands, while traveling on steamboats, waiting for stages at public houses, and such odd intervals of leisure.[99]
The character of Miss Dix is both pleasant and profitable to contemplate. Every thing connected with her public career is noble and worthy to be imitated. Would that the world were full of suchcharacters: they are needed. Although she has done a great work, much is yet to do. Our country is wide, and enlarging almost every year; the field of benevolence is white to harvest, and where are the reapers, who, like Miss Dix, will make their "lives sublime?"
THE END.