®i)e Hibrarp 
 
 oftiie 
 
 ^nibersitpof i?ortf) Carolina 
 
 Collection of Movil) Caroliniana 
 
 FRT^ 
 
 ^1dKQHE7 
 
This book must not 
 be taken from the 
 Library buifding. 
 
 Form No. 471 
 
MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES R. GILMORE 
 
 (ED3IUND KIRKE) 
 
 AUTHOR OF -aMOXG THE PINES " -'THE LAST OF THE THORXDIKES " 
 "the rear-guard OF THE REVOLUTION'" ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK AND CHICAGO 
 BELFORD, CLARKE AND COMPANY 
 
 1889 
 
Copyright, 1889, 
 
 By James R. Gilmore. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Our country offers hospitality to all civilized nations. 
 It opens wide its doors to every man who desires civil 
 and religious freedom, and is willing to assimilate with 
 our people, and support our free institutions. It accords 
 to him every right of property, and, after a brief proba- 
 tion, the same voice in shaping our governmental policy 
 that is enjoyed by our native-born population, whose 
 fathers laid the foundations of our Republic, and who 
 have themselves erected it into a great nation. But, like 
 prudent householders, our native citizens do not give 
 cordial welcome to the foreign beggar, burglar, incendiary, 
 and cutthroat. And yet, recent investigations, conducted 
 under the authority of Congress, disclose the fact that, 
 European governments are vomiting upon our shores their 
 criminal and worthless characters in startling numbers. 
 Their highways and by-ways are ransacked for paupers, 
 and their jails and penitentiaries are emptied of dangerous 
 ^ vagabonds, to be thrust into our large cities in idle and 
 ^ lawless crowds, there to form an element that is a menace 
 ' to the peace and security of any civilized community. 
 
 '•o 
 
A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 The presence of this element has ah-eady obhged every 
 one of onr larger municipalities to so augment its police 
 force, as to greatly increase the tax-burden of its order- 
 loving citizens. 
 
 This is an element sufficiently dangerous to cause alarm ; 
 but it is far less dangerous to us as an American people 
 than those firebrands of Europe — the Anarchists and 
 Socialists — whom foreign governments are scattering 
 broadcast among us. The paupers and criminals threaten 
 our security as individual citizens; the Anarchists and 
 Socialists are a menace to the stability of our Government, 
 and the integrit}^ of our very civilization. 
 
 John Most, the high priest of American anarchy, in 
 his recent examination before the Congressional Immigra- 
 tion Committee, expressed the opinion that there are 
 fifty millions of Socialists in Europe, and he stated that 
 two million Anarchists are already domiciled in the 
 United States, and are being reinforced by every ship 
 that arrives from the Continent. The number of Social- 
 ists already here he did not state ; but they are undoubt- 
 edly more numerous than the Anarchists. When asked 
 to define the difference between socialism and anarchism. 
 Most replied that the Socialist seeks to change the whole 
 system of society. He does not seek to abolish individual 
 ownership, but — what is the same thing — he would 
 have the earnings of property equally distributed among 
 the people. Under this system he believes there would 
 be no necessity for laws, nor any need of a government. 
 Everv man would become a law unto himself, and the 
 State would soon go out of existence. The Anarchist, 
 
INTRODTJCTION. 
 
 on the other hand, according to Most, believes in the 
 equal distribution of all property, and the immediate and 
 total abolition of all State government. 
 
 The mere statement of these doctrines is enough to 
 show that these people are the natural enemies of our 
 American civilization. They are simply destructives. 
 License with them is liberty ; and freedom the abihty of 
 the poor to pull down the rich, and to revel idly on the 
 avails of other men's industr3\ Both Socialists and 
 Anarchists are largely sceptics and atheists, and drawn, 
 as they mainly are, from the most ignorant and degraded 
 population of Europe, they are the ready instruments 
 of designing demagogues who would build themselves 
 up on the ruin of society. What enormities they would 
 commit if once freed from restraint, may be seen in 
 the recent developments in Chicago, and in the atroci- 
 ties attending the great riots in Pittsburg and New 
 York city. 
 
 But I conceive that the peril to which the country is 
 exposed from this disorganizing element, lies not so much 
 in its violent uprising, as in the peaceful spread of its 
 opinions — the silent infusion of its poisonous virus 
 into the veins of the great body of our working popula- 
 tion, till they shall mistake French Communism, or Ger- 
 man Socialism, or Russian Nihilism, for Anglo-Saxon 
 freedom. The danger is that the country shall thus lose 
 its national character, be un-American ized, swung away 
 from the traditions of our fathers, and from the English 
 liberty, English law, and English religion, which have 
 given us all our greatness as a nation. 
 
6 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEKOtNE. 
 
 This calamity may not be possible in our Eastern and 
 Middle States, where the foreign element is a minority, 
 and every school-boy knows tliat true freedom is liberty 
 regulated by law, and its most characteristic trait a strict 
 regard for the property and rights of other men. Tlie 
 natural field for these destructive theories is the West, 
 where the foreign-born population is a much more potent 
 element, and Kew England ideas have not so thoroughly 
 leavened the community. In that section, which in the 
 near future will hold the political power of the country, 
 these atheistic and destructive principles are strongly 
 aggressive, and gaining ground with astonishing rapidity. 
 In Chicago alone there are now, according to Professor 
 Samuel Ives Curtiss, forty thousand Anarchists, who 
 openly counsel resistance to law, and support vile journals 
 in which are reproduced the writings of Thomas Paine, 
 the shallow utterances of Robert G. Ingersoll, and ribald 
 parodies of all that is most sacred in human literature. 
 These journals distinctly proclaim that property is theft, 
 the future life a delusion, Christianity a fable, and God 
 Himself merely a scarecrow, invented to keep the poor 
 out of the rich man's cornfield. 
 
 All along the Great Lakes this fetid exhalation from 
 the cesspools of Europe is spreading, and it threatens to 
 soon taint the atmosphere of the entire West. And the 
 misfortune is that the spread of the poison cannot be 
 checked. N^o capitation tax will keep these men out of 
 the country, and we cannot deny them a free expression 
 of their opinions wlien they are in it. If we were to set 
 zealously about the work we miglit convert a few of them 
 
INTRODUCTION. 7 
 
 to our political creed ; but the chances are that when we 
 had made one proselyte tw^o others would spring up in his 
 place, armed at all points with false logic, and backed by the 
 moral support of that European reserve of fifty millions. 
 
 But it is doubtful if any genuine Anarchist can be 
 converted to our American idea of freedom. Hatred of 
 the rich he has drunk in with his mother's milk, and the 
 iron heel of the governing classes in his native country 
 has so scarred his very sonl, that he has come to regard 
 all who are better-conditioned than himself as his natural 
 enemies. He cannot be made to understand that there 
 can be no tyranny where every man wears a crown, no 
 actual inequality where all are equal before the law, no 
 exclusive possession of riches where moderate intelligence, 
 and persistent industry, will speedily bestow them upon 
 the poorest and most illiterate. He is incapable of under- 
 standing this, and hence, is unable to appreciate either 
 the rights or the duties of an American citizen. This 
 being so, and these men increasing in number in a more 
 rapid ratio than our native population, and every one of 
 them having the ballot in his possession, how shall we 
 during the coming years preserve our national character, 
 and keep intact our American institutions ? The question 
 is of vital moment to this nation, and it concerns not onlv 
 every patriot, but every Christian who has at heart the 
 upward progress of the human race, and would see his 
 country achieve its high mission as the standard bearer of 
 civil and relie^ious freedom. 
 
 There can be but one answer to this question, and that 
 is — The safety of our American institutions defends 
 
8 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 solely upon a more general education of our native- 
 horn Anie7'iGan population. From our own people, who 
 have inherited our national traditions, and have our 
 Anglo-Saxon freedom in their very blood, must be formed 
 a body of intelligent, libertj-loving. God-fearing men, 
 whose ballots shall hold tliis destructive foreign element 
 in check, and thus preserve to us in their integrity our 
 national character, and our free institutions. Thus far 
 we have been safe in our numerical superiority ; but with 
 this inflowing tide of socialism and anarchism over- 
 spreading all the West, the time has come when our 
 supremacy is endangered, and we need to be reinforced 
 by a body of voters who have the same ideals and aspira- 
 tions as ourselves. This reinforcement we must have, or 
 soon lose our character as an American people. This is 
 the emergency that is now upon the nation. 
 
 But where shall we look for an auxiliary native force 
 that will neutralize the baleful influence of this dis- 
 organizing foreign element ? The Southern negro is the 
 born enemy of atheism and anarchism, and when his 
 rights as a freeman are more generally respected, and he 
 is better educated, and more fully acquainted with his 
 duties as an American citizen, he will be a valuable aid 
 in upholding our American institutions. But the negro 
 has not inherited our traditions, he has no ancestral mem- 
 ories connected with Bunker Hill, or King's Mountain, 
 nor does he belong to a race which through fifteen hun- 
 dred years of blood and struggle has achieved enlightened 
 liberty and Christian civilization. 
 
 There is, however, among us a class of native-bom 
 
INTRODUCTION. 9 
 
 Americans, who, if educated, and socially and morally 
 elevated, would I think give the country the added 
 strength it needs to maintain intact its free institutions ; 
 and this class is the so-called " Mountain-White" popula- 
 tion of the Southern Alleghanies. They occupy what is 
 now the very heart of tiiis country, and number about 
 two millions, all of them native-born, with an inherited 
 love of freedom, and the intense patriotism which is 
 peculiar to our American character. Being either too 
 poor, or too conscientious, to hold slaves, they were, more 
 than a hundred years ago, forced back to the mountains 
 * by the slave-holding planters of the seaboard, and, insu- 
 lated there, shut out from the world, and deprived of 
 schools and churches, they have grown up in ignorance of 
 their rights and duties as American citizens. 
 
 The present condition of these people is directly trace- 
 able to slavery ; for in making the slave the planter's 
 blacksmith, carpenter, wheelwright, and man of all work, 
 slavery shut every avenue of honest employment against 
 the working white man, and drove him to the mountains 
 and the barren sand hills to starve and to die. And hav- 
 ing there shut him out from the world, it legislated to 
 keep him in ignorance, lest he should learn his rights and 
 overthrow its power. Only a few years before the war I 
 saw a planter of my acquaintance march twenty of these 
 men up to the polls, and when they had voted at his bidding, 
 he turned to me and said, " This is your boasted Democ- 
 racy. These men govern this country : Jefferson gave 
 them the right of suffrage, and they suppose they are 
 voting for Jefferson now." 
 2 
 
10 A MOUNTAIN- WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 "But," I said to him, "why do you not teach them to 
 think ? Why not give them schools and churches ? " 
 
 " Because, if we did, they might not vote for Jefferson." 
 
 This reply indicates the policy tliat was pursued toward 
 these people, through long years, by the ruling element 
 in the South. But ignorant as they generally are, there 
 is not in the whole country a more honest, brave, and 
 liberty-loving class of men than these " Mountain- Whites," 
 and during our recent civil war they developed qualities 
 that do honor to American manhood. Though citizens 
 of seceded States, and hemmed in by secession armies, 
 and a disloyal people, the majority of them stood firmly 
 by the Union, endm'ing, for what they thought the right, 
 such suffering as rarely falls to the lot of any people. 
 Multitudes of them laid out in the woods, were hunted 
 with blood-hounds, beaten with 6tri23es, hung to trees, 
 tossed on the points of bayonets, and buried while yet 
 alive, rather than deny their country, or betray its friends. 
 Grass-grown cross-roads, where rude guide posts point 
 ways no traveler ever went ; lonely mountain hamlets, un- 
 known except to the census-taker and the tax-gatherer, 
 where tlie spelling-book and the mail bag never were 
 seen, produced a race of hereos whose deeds will vie with 
 those of any of the most noted characters in our history. 
 
 Living as these people do, remote from traveled routes, 
 they are seldom seen by travelers, and their exploits in 
 the late w^ar, performed as they were in small con- 
 flicts, and amid the seclusion of their remote mountains, 
 have escaped the notice of the chroniclers of the great 
 events that decided the fate of the nation. Nevertheless, 
 
INTRODUCTION. 11 
 
 the J are worthy of record at the present time, if for nc 
 other reason than to show the character of a large native 
 element on which, when properly instructed, we may rely 
 to stem the tide of sociahsm and anarchy that is now 
 inundating the country. Therefore, it has been suggested 
 to me that I may do a public service by recounting some 
 of the war history of these people as it has been related to 
 me by veracious persons, and by drawing such a general pic- 
 ture of their way of life, and natural and social surround- 
 ings, as came under my personal observation during a 
 recent residence of some years in their near neighborhood. 
 The facts that I record were communicated to me by 
 some scores of individuals while I was travelino: throus'h 
 their country in pursuit of material for a series of histo- 
 ries of the early South-West, that I have recently written ; 
 and I had then no thought of ever giving them to the 
 public. I consequently took no further care at the time 
 to verify the various accounts I received than would be 
 natural to one who has more personal satisfaction in truth 
 than in fiction. But, since the idea of writins^ this 
 volume has been suggested to me, I have taken every 
 means of verifying its facts that are possible by a corre- 
 spondence with my original informants. The conclusion 
 I have arrived at is, that the main facts I relate are his- 
 torically true, and that, if some of the minor details 
 are not so, the fact does not detract from the truthful 
 character of my picture as a wiiole, nor render it a le^s 
 faithful representation of the rare heroism, and self- 
 devoted patriotism exhibited by these Mountain- Whites 
 during the recent war for the preservation of the Union. 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 WAR TIDINGS. 
 
 The advent of a circus is a great event in the Southern 
 Alleghanies. For weeks in advance of its coming, it is 
 heralded by enormous placards posted at every country 
 cross-road, and from far and near, for many miles around, 
 the backwoods people gather to the exhibition. Often 
 in some inconsiderable hamlet several thousands come 
 together, and then, while whisky flows freely, ensue 
 scenes of the wildest jollity, most uproarious noise, and 
 reckless violence, from which a certain number of killed 
 and wounded may be as accurately predicted as from the 
 encounter of hostile forces in regular conflict. The 
 secluded region among the mountains of Western North 
 Carolina, which was the scene of the events I am about 
 to relate, had never been afflicted with one of these 
 equestrian visitations ; but there came a day in the month 
 of April, 1861; when the monster placard announced 
 that the dancing dogs, the monkey that plays the tam- 
 bourine, and the half-nude goddess who rides four steeds 
 at once, bare-backed, and at full gallop, would soon be on 
 exhibition in the widelv-known villasre of Asheville. 
 
 The circus stole into town over night, and when the 
 half-asleep dwellers in the place heard its measured tramp 
 
14 A MOUNT \IN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 Oil the highway, they knew that a long procession of 
 Mountain-Whites would follow in the morning. And it 
 did. One unbroken stream of both sexes, and all ages, 
 on foot, on horse-back, mule-back, and " critter back," and 
 in every kind of nondescript vehicle, poured into the 
 town, over all its principal thoroughfares, from early dawn 
 till high- noon ; and I question if a like procession was 
 ever seen outside of the Southern Alleghanies. 
 
 With the first streak of day came an old negro, astride 
 of an antiquated ox, which w^as hitched to a two-wheeled 
 cart, laden with corn-fodder : and there soon followed 
 many a score of foot passengers. The men were in 
 slouched hats of all shapes and sizes, and the women in 
 the peculiar sun-bonnet of the region ; or without any 
 other head gear than that which adorned our first mother. 
 The other garments of the women were merely a bright- 
 colored ribbon tied about the neck, and a gown of linsey, 
 or Dolly Yarden chintz, such as formed the bed-cnrtains 
 of our great-grandmothers. The men wore the same 
 linsey, or homespun tow-cloth, and with both men and 
 women the garments, as a general thing, came only a 
 trifle below the knees, leaving exposed a bare ankle 
 of the precise color of the red clay that covered the 
 highway. 
 
 Following these pedestrians was another old negro, 
 mounted upon the forward end of a dilapidated wagon, 
 drawn by an ox and a mule, harnessed tandem, and urged 
 forward upon a' slow walk by a long whip, which every 
 now and then, as the colored Jehu flourished it about his 
 head, became entangled in the necks of a bevy of moun- 
 
WAR TIDINGS. 15 
 
 tain beauties, who were seated in the bottom of the 
 vehicle. Then came another platoon of " foot soldiery," 
 and then two women riding abreast, one arrayed in bright 
 colors, and seated upon a worn-out side saddle, strapped 
 to the back of a two-year-old heifer, which she guided 
 by a rope bridle, inserted in the mouth of the animal ; 
 the other, wearing a man's hat and boots, and astride of 
 a mule, which she rode bare-backed, holding on one arm 
 a basket of egg?, on the other, a young child, which was 
 laughing and playing at hide-and-seek w^ith a four-year- 
 old boy, who was mounted behind the woman. Evidently, 
 the eggs were to pay for the w^oman's admission to the 
 show ; the boy and the baby she probably expected to 
 smuggle in gratis. 
 
 Then followed a troop of horsemen and horse-women, 
 and in their rear, a large ox, bearing a young man and 
 maiden, apparently in the first throes of courtship. He 
 sat astride of the shoulders of the beast, his long legs 
 nearly touching the ground ; she behind him, in a more 
 feminine attitude, her arm tightly clasped about his waist, 
 and her finely-formed foot moving in regular cadence 
 with the motion of the animal. Then appeared another 
 woman in a man's hat and cavalry boots, riding sideways 
 on a bag of corn ; and beside her was a man with a head- 
 gear adorned with a drooping feather, w^hich had evidently 
 been out in the rain till it had lost all its original erectility. 
 They were followed by a clumsy farm wagon of the 
 country, drawn by three pairs of gaudily-decorated mules, 
 and containino^ at least a score of mountain rons^hs — 
 great, bearded fellows, with enormous top-boots, which 
 
16 A MOUNT AIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 dangled from the ends and sides of the vehicle, with a 
 Furioso air, which plainly said, 
 
 "Who doth these boots displace 
 Shall meet Bombastes face to face." 
 
 But I need not particularize further, where all was gro- 
 tesque, and unlike any thing ordinarily seen in civilized 
 communities. 
 
 The most of the people in this procession had dull, ex- 
 pressionless faces, and only a casual glance was needed to 
 show that they were below the average of our rural pop- 
 ulation in civilization, and intelligence. A considerable 
 portion had the appearance of well-to-do farmers, the 
 remainder are known, far and wide, as " poor whites ; " 
 though they are not poor in the sense of being homeless, 
 and destitute of the necessaries of life. However, their 
 homes are often little better than hovels, and their food is 
 usually a ration of salt pork, hominy, and " corn-dodger," 
 which fails to develop in them a very high order of man- 
 hood. But the hovels are their own, and so are the small 
 patches of cleared ground which they cultivate in the 
 rudest and most primitive manner. Their " annual crops" 
 are three or four swine, and a few bushels of corn and 
 sweet potatoes. On this, and a scanty supply of game, 
 they subsist — the potatoes, boiled and flavored with an 
 iron pot; the corn, made into "hoe-cake," and baked in 
 the ashes, or on the lid of a kettle fashioned for the pur- 
 pose ; and the swine salted, and smoked into bacon, and 
 then fried till it has very much the same consistence as 
 gutta-percha. This diet, no doubt, accounts for their gen- 
 erally sallow, cadaverous complexions, and for the pre- 
 
WAK TIDINGS. IT 
 
 vailing absence of all spiiit and energy for wliicli they 
 are distinguished. 
 
 This circus, with its " ground and lofty tumbling," was, 
 to a majority of these mountaineers, the most interesting 
 incident which had occurred in their lives; but it is referred 
 to here merely because it brought to this secluded people 
 their first intelligence of one of the most notable events 
 in American history — the attack upon Fort Sumter, and 
 the lowering of the flag of the Union before armed re- 
 bellion, in the harbor of Charleston. It is probable that 
 not an individual in the assemblage had any adequate con- 
 ception of the national bearing of the event, or of its 
 vital relation to his own future; and yet, a feeling of 
 dread and uncertainty, a vague sense of a grave crisis 
 having come into their lives, pervaded the entire gather- 
 ing, and sent each one back to his home pondering the 
 tidings with more than his accustomed thoughtfulness. 
 
 By none was the political bearing of this event more 
 fully appreciated than by three youths, aged respectively, 
 fifteen, seventeen, and nineteen years, who occupied one 
 of the upper seats of the immense tent at the beginning 
 of the itinerant performance. They were of a better 
 class than a larger portion of the motley audience. Their 
 clothing was of homespun, like that of the others, but it 
 was neat, cleanly, and well-fitting, and sat upon them 
 with the easy grace which betokens good breeding. Their 
 forms were erect, and their features clear-cut, and intelli- 
 gent, with a frank, manly expression, and that look of 
 unconscious dignity, which usually tells of an honorable 
 lineage. And they were well-descended. An adverse 
 3 
 
18 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 fate had condemned them to be born and reared in this 
 backwoods region ; but it had not deprived them of the 
 qualities which come down in one's blood from a culti- 
 vated ancestry. 
 
 The circus exercises had begun at noon, and the young 
 men had, for an hour or more, looked silently on at the 
 performance — the gorgeous cavalcade, the bare-back race, 
 the flying leaps, and the antics of the intelligent steed, 
 which fires off pistols, dances a horn-pipe, and exhibits 
 various other accomplishments that are supposed to be 
 exclusively human — when the oldest of the three young 
 men said to the others : " Boys, you don't seem to enjoy 
 this thing any better than I do. Mother will want to 
 hear this news — suppose we go home." 
 
 "I'm agreed," answered the youngest. ^* This affair 
 isn't much ; our pony can beat that trick-horse all to flin- 
 ders." 
 
 " Then we had better start at once, for it won't do to 
 cross the Ivy after sundown." 
 
 Dropping from the seats they occupied the young men 
 then passed noiselessly along the rear of the benches, to 
 avoid disturbing the audience ; and, emerging from the 
 tent, made their way to a clump of trees a short distance 
 away, where, secured by his bridle to a swaying limb, the 
 aforesaid pony was browsing. 
 
 As this pony performed an humble part in this history, 
 he is entitled to a brief description. He belonged to a 
 species that seems peculiar to this mountain region. 
 Dun-brown in color, he had a coat well nigh as shaggy as 
 a spaniel's. He was about fifteen hands high, with a head 
 
WAR TIDINGS. 19 
 
 small, and shapely; limbs, clean and well formed, and 
 haunches that were long and formed like those of a deer. 
 He seemed too slender to possess much strength, but in 
 his close-knit frame there was great endurance, and his 
 eye — which was large and lustrous, but also gentle and 
 coquettish as any woman's — told of unconquerable spii'it, 
 and an intelligence almost human. A rope bridle, a worn 
 woolen blanket, strapped to his back, and a bag of corn, 
 thrown loosely o^er his shoulders, com23rised his accoutre- 
 ments. 
 
 As the younofest of the youths — whom his brothers 
 addressed as "Billy," or "Billy-Boy" — approached to 
 untie the rope by which the pony was tethered, the ani- 
 mal raised his head, gave a low whinny, and then lifted 
 his right fore-foot by way of salutation. The lad took 
 the foot in his hand, shook it gently, and then saving, 
 " give me a buss, Sam," bent forward toward the pony, 
 when the latter instantly rubbed his nose against the boy's 
 face in a most affectionate manner. These ceremonies over, 
 Billy bounded \x^ow the pony's back, and, turning to his 
 elder brother, said, '' Aleck, don't you think the bridge at 
 Democrat will be fixed by the time we get thar?" 
 
 "]S"o, I don't," answered the other. " The lazy loons 
 won't have it done in a week. We must go back along 
 the river." 
 
 " Then we had better be jogging, for by that route it's 
 twenty miles to the Ivy." Saying this, the younger lad 
 led the way up the road, followed by his brothers with 
 the long, noiseless stride peculiar to the dwellers among 
 these mountains. 
 
20 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 They soon left the precincts of the town, and emerged 
 upon a rolHng country, dotted with woods and open 
 fields, but well-nigh destitute of dwelhngs. Most of these 
 cleared spaces were what are called *' old fields " — land 
 which perhaps a century ago had been planted in corn 
 year after year, without any compost, till the soil became 
 exhausted, and refused to yield any crop of more value 
 than scrub-oaks, and a poor species of pine, scarcely fit 
 for firewood. Through this abandoned district the young 
 men trudged for half an hour before coming upon a single 
 token of human occupation. 
 
 The first indication of civilization they encountered 
 was a woman ploughing in a fenced-field adjoining the 
 highway. Her head, arms, and feet were bare, and a 
 soiled cotton gown appeared to be her only garment. She 
 was leisurely stirring the weeds with a bull-tongue 
 plough, drawn by a new-milch cow, while staggering 
 along behind was her offspring, vainly trying to keep in 
 the shallow furrow. As the young men came abreast of 
 the woman, she turned her pinched face toward them, 
 and, pausing a moment in her employment, dropped a 
 courtesy, and saluted them with the universal " How-dy-e." 
 
 " Good morning," responded Billy, from the back of 
 the pony, " Why don't your husband do that sort of 
 work ? " 
 
 "Oh, he's busy — got company — the barber's ter the 
 house dressin' his har." 
 
 A few rods farther on they came to the " house," a one- 
 story log shanty, about twelve feet square, with no visible 
 opening except a door-way, and squatted in the midst of 
 
WAE TIDINGS. 21 
 
 a small clearing, which was littered over with chips, un- 
 cut wood, and all manner of rubbish. A little beyond 
 was the barber's shop — an edifice destitute alike of roof, 
 door, and windows. It was, in short, a hen-coop, set on 
 end, but still occupied bj its natural tenant, and her brood 
 of chickens. Seated upon it was a ragged " native," the 
 very picture of forlornness ; and kneeling on the ground 
 beside him, in his shirt-sleeves, was another " native " — 
 the artist in hair — who had trimmed the other's locks in 
 a horizontal " bang," and was in the act of combing them 
 straight down, in the latest mountain fashion. 
 
 " What is the price for trimming hair in this shop ? " 
 asked the younger lad, as he rode by. 
 
 " A dime a cut," answered the artist, not looking up, or 
 altering his position, " An' we ax fools half-price. Will 
 you uns hev your'n done cut ? " 
 
 The boy wisely refrained from replying, and going on 
 in silence the trio soon struck the road alons: the French 
 Broad river, and came in sight of the only dwelhng of 
 any pretensions they had encountered since leaving the 
 outskirts of Asheville. Though living all their lives 
 within twenty -five miles of the town, only the eldest of 
 the three had ever visited it before, and he had gone to it 
 on that occasion by the direct road, that crosses the Ivy 
 by a bridge near the hamlet of Democrat, which now had 
 been recently broken down by a freshet. Every thing 
 was, therefore, new to all of them on the route they 
 were now pursuing. They had observed this house, 
 on their way up the river, and had wondered what 
 " lord of the manor '' could have built so costly a 
 
22 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 dwelling where his only neighbors were "mean trash" — 
 apparently more deeply sunk in poverty and squalor 
 than any in the neighborhood of their own home in the 
 mountains. 
 
 The mansion stood on the lower ground bordering the 
 river, and in general appearance was not unlike some of 
 the better class of country houses of the last century, 
 which may still be seen here and there throughout New 
 England. A wide portico lay along its front, and its 
 staring-white walls were ornamented with green blinds ; 
 but with these features, and its square, generous propor- 
 tions, its resemblance to a Northern country residence 
 terminated. Its other characteristics were entirely South- 
 ern, and of the era of slavery. These features were outside 
 chimneys, going up at either end in pyramidal form ; low 
 log-cabins, surrounded with litter, and garrisoned by 
 trouserless pickanninies of every conceivable shade of 
 darkness ; a dingy barn, and a dilapidated rail-fence, that 
 encircled the premises, and stretched back to broad 
 meadows, and ploughed fields, which climbed to the very 
 summit of a wood -crowned hill, far at the rear of the 
 mansion. The highway was bordered by this fence, ex- 
 cept on its lower side, where a dense group of alders and 
 willows ran down to the river. 
 
 As the young men passed along the road in the shade 
 of these trees, the elder brother said to the others, '*' I have 
 found out who this mansion belongs to — Robert Yance. 
 He was a poor boy like ourselves, but you see what he has 
 come to — a wealthy man, and not much above thirty 
 years old." 
 
WAR TIDINGS. 23 
 
 " He must have had rich friends to help him along," 
 said the next younger brother. 
 
 "No, Benny, I reckon not," answered Aleck, ^'I saw 
 the house his father used to live in when I was here a 
 year ago. It's a few miles back of Asheville — a tnm- 
 ble-down log-cabin, no larger than onrs, and the farm 
 is not so good as our clearings; but his boys managed 
 to get a fair education, with a year or two at the 
 University. That, mother has not been able to give 
 us, for she's had to struggle along alone, with no one to 
 help her." 
 
 " A man can't do any thing without education," said 
 Benjamin. 
 
 " There you are wrong, Ben," responded the younger 
 lad. *' Old Jackson couldn't even spell — so I've read in 
 our history — and mother says father understood Greek 
 and Latin, and was a graduate of the University, yet he 
 died poorer than Parson Justin's mule." 
 
 " Ko matter what a man's education is," said the older 
 brother, '' he can't rise, or get rich in this country, with- 
 out supporting slavery. Every one of our family who 
 has risen to distinction has been a slave-holder ; but 
 father wouldn't hold slaves ; and I think he was right. 
 I'd rather be poor, and never heard of, than to live con- 
 trary to ray conscience." 
 
 Nothing more was said that has any special bearing on 
 this history, and it was not long before the young men 
 arrived at Alexander's — a wayside hotel which, since the 
 year 1826, has been a summer resort for dwellers on the 
 sultry seaboard. Here they halted long enough to give 
 
24 A MOUNTAIN-WHIIE IIEKOINE. 
 
 the ponj a bait from the bag of corn he carried on his 
 back, and then they trudged on again. 
 
 For several miles the hills that bordered the river had 
 been gradually swelling into mountains, and now the 
 young men were in the midst of surprisingly grand and 
 picturesque scenery. The narrow road — in many places 
 blasted from the rocks along the water's edge — follows 
 the windings of the river, which at this point makes a 
 wide sweep, and opens suddenly upon a scene absolutely 
 beyond description. A tall monntain springs, as it were, 
 directly across the roadway, the broad river racing along 
 at its base, its rapid current now foaming around huge 
 boulders, now wliirling in swift-boiling pools, now tum- 
 bling in white cascades over some sunken ledge, and then 
 again, flowing on, wide, and deep, and placid, as if it had 
 never known an angry mood in its whole career. And 
 over all, are the high inclosing mountains, their wooded 
 slopes, and bare sandstone cliffs, towering up a thou- 
 sand feet and more, and often toppling over the very 
 roadway, while every here and there a mountain torrent? 
 fringed with pine, and rhododendron, dashes from its 
 leafy covert, and falls broken into a spray of brilliants to the 
 river below. For a distance of nearly thirty miles the 
 French Broad has here ploughed a gigantic furrow in 
 the crust of the earth, rending the rocks, and piling up 
 the mountains in rugged precipices, and dizzy pine-clad 
 slopes, of well-nigh unparalleled sublimity. 
 
 Along this gigantic causeway the young men journeyed, 
 mile after mile, pausing often to take in the grandeur of 
 the scene, till about an hour before sunset, when they 
 
WAR TIDINGS. 25 
 
 came to the Ivj, a mo an tain stream, now swollen greatly 
 beyond its banks, and racing to the near-by French Broad, 
 Uke a maddened animal. Two days before they had come 
 that way, and then had tethered the ^^ dug out," by which 
 they had crossed the stream, to the limb of a tree. It 
 was there still, but fifteen feet above its former position, 
 and entangled in the branches. The stream was now 
 fully two hundred feet wide, and the current rushing on 
 at a speed that would have instantly swept the " dug 
 out '' into the French Broad, and the most expert swim- 
 mer beyond the reach of human succor. Crossing the 
 Ivy was therefore out of the question. 
 
 The boys were deliberating what to do in the emer- 
 gency, when a couple of travelers appeared on the scene. 
 They were a man and a woman coming down the road. 
 He was tall and gaunt, and clad in seedy homespun, with 
 a half-filled meal-sack slung over one shoulder and a 
 short stick, supporting a bundle, over the other. He 
 walked with a shufflino:, falterino: s^ait, as if fatio:ued with 
 a long journey, and unable to keep up with his more 
 energetic companion. The woman was nearly as tall as 
 the man, and equally gaunt, but she came on with a firm, 
 quick stride, her Kmbs going at every step to the extreme 
 verge of a scanty cotton gown, that fell a little short of 
 her ankles. This garment was of the precise color of the 
 road she was traveling, and of a piece with the limp sun- 
 bonnet upon her head. Her feet were encased in a pair 
 of stout brogans, which, with her naked ankles, were so 
 thickly encrusted with mud that nothing short of a 
 modern deluge could restore them to their original con- 
 
26 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEKOINE. 
 
 dition. Under her arm she carried a sack, from which 
 protruded the handle of a frving-pan, while from a cord 
 wound about her waist was suspended at her side, in the 
 manner of a ladies' chatelaine, a battered coffee-pot. 
 They were evidently on a journey — lodging in hay-ricks, 
 or the open air, and with those rude utensils cooking 
 their food by the wayside. 
 
 The woman walked a few paces in advance of the man, 
 and as she came near, her thrown-back sun-bonnet dis- 
 closed well-formed features, a wealth of dark-brown hair, 
 and eyes soft and kindly, but with a latent fire which 
 showed she might explode on occasion. Still, about her 
 mobile lips played a smile that betokened a genial nature, 
 capable of enjoying a joke, or a hearty laugh, on any 
 reasonable provocation. She was about thirty years of 
 age, the man some six years older, and they were evidently 
 married, or at least mated, after the fashion of their class 
 in this mountain country. 
 
 The younger boy no sooner caught sight of the couple 
 than he uttered a laugh, and said to his brothers: "It's 
 Parson Justin and Sukey. Now, we shall have prayers 
 and Old Hundred when we camp out to-night." 
 
 "Hush, Billy," said the elder youth, ^' don't make 
 game of them." Then, as the travelers came nearer, he 
 added, addressing the new comers, " Good evening, neigh- 
 bors. You' ve been on a journey, I reckon." 
 
 " Yas," answered the woman, removing from her mouth 
 the small stick in use among snuff- dippers, "been tu 
 Kutherford to see my folks, an' we'se all tuckered out — 
 footed hit thirty mile since mornin'." 
 
WAR TIDINGS. 27 
 
 *' Thirty miles ! then you must be tired," said Aleck. 
 
 " Tired hain't no name for hit," answered the woman, 
 seating herself on a large stone by the road-side. "' We'se 
 dead beat, clean gin eont. If we uns was only ter home, 
 the soft side of a plank wud be as easy ter me as yer 
 mother's best feather-bed." Saying this she resumed her 
 snuff-stick. 
 
 "Well, Sukey," said the younger lad, ^'Tou can enjoy 
 the soft side of the ground to-night. You can't get across 
 the Ivy." 
 
 " We can't ! " she exclaimed, " We shall. Hit's a long 
 five mile, but we'll roost ter home to-night. Ye kin 
 reckon on that." 
 
 " How will you ? " asked the older youth, " the Ivy 
 tearing as it is now ? " 
 
 '* Why, don't you know, Aleck ? T bar's a crossin' a 
 mile and more up the mounting — we come that way. A 
 big poplar has fell slap over the run, an' ye kin cross on 
 hit without the Parson sayin' prayers or axiu' a blessin'." 
 
 "That is good news," said Aleck. "We had expected 
 to camp out here till the Ivy had fallen." 
 
 " Waal I spect yeHl have ter, fur ye kant git that pony 
 over. Nary four-futted critter bigger'n a bench-legged 
 fyse (short-legged cur) kin walk that poplar." 
 
 "How large is the poplar?" asked the boy of fifteen. 
 
 " Hit mout be eight fut, hit mout be ten, an' some 
 good Christian has hewed off the top-side ; but, my Billy- 
 Boy, the gorge air a hundred feet down, an' no unreas- 
 onin' critter could keep hits head thar a minit." 
 
 " But, Sam is not an unreasonin' critter," responded 
 
28 A MOUNTAIN -WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 Billy, " lie knows enough to run for Congress. He can 
 keep his head where I can." 
 
 " He ar' a knowin' one ; but try him on that track, 
 Billy, an' 3'e'll be short a right decent pony. Te'll land 
 him in Kingdom-come, sartin." 
 
 " I'll risk him," said Billy. "What do you say, Aleck? 
 Shall we try to cross up thar ? " 
 
 " We might look over the ground. Then if we can't 
 get Sam across, I'll stay there with him over night, while 
 you and Ben go on to mother. We'll let you lead the 
 way, Sukey, when you're rested."^ 
 
 *' I'se rested now," said the woman, springing lightly 
 to her feet, and saying, " Come on," to the Parson, who 
 all this while had sat as demure as a church mouse, and 
 silent as a Quaker meeting. Without a word the reverend 
 gentleman slowly rose, and with an unsteady step followed 
 her, as, with a firm and manly stride, she led the way up 
 the mountain. 
 
 The ravine through which the Ivy finds its way to the 
 French Broad slopes on its southern side gradually up to 
 the top of the elevated plateau which there borders the 
 river, and the ascent at that point is not difiicult. The 
 path had been but little traveled, but a slight trail was 
 distinctly visible in the coarse grass and undergrowth, 
 and following this, the party were not long in arriving at 
 the prostrate tulip, which in this section is called the 
 poplar. It was a giant tree, fully ten feet in diameter at 
 the butt, and, blown down by some recent hurricane, it 
 had fallen directly across the stream, which here had 
 forced its way through the solid rock, forming a channel 
 
WAR TIDINGS. 29 
 
 about a himdred feet deep, broad at the bottom, but uar- 
 rowing at the top of the ledge to a width of not more 
 than twenty-five feet. A sudden depression in the ground 
 afforded ready access to this natural bridge from its upper 
 side, and the hewn surface of the tree would give a 
 secure footing to man or woman ; but could such an ani- 
 mal as a horse keep its head on the dizzy cansewa}- ? and, 
 if it could, how would it be got down from the trunk of 
 the tree on the farther side, which there rested on a 
 nearly level surface, and was all of ten feet from the 
 ground ? These were the questions which the young 
 men debated as they slowly followed the Parson and his 
 wife across the bridge, and examined the ground on the 
 opposite side of the Ivy. 
 
 " It can't be done, Billy," said his elder brother. " If 
 you should get him across, the leap down would be sure 
 to break his legs." 
 
 " But, I wouldn't let him down thar," answered Billy, 
 " I'd walk him on to the first limb, whar it isn't more than 
 five feet to the ground. Of course he can jump that far." 
 
 " What ! take him fifty feet over that round trunk, 
 soaked with the heavy rain of three days ago ? " 
 
 "I don't care if it is slippery," answered the boy, 
 " Sam is well shod ; and I tell you, he'll follow whar I 
 lead. I could take him into the Parson's pulpit." 
 
 The woman and her husband had seated themselves on 
 a near-by stump to await the result, and now she called 
 out to the lad, ^'If ye try it, ye'll lose yer nag, my 
 Billy-Boy. I'll bet ye a thousand dollars agin a hime 
 book." 
 
30 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 "You haven't a thousand dollars to lose," replied the 
 lad, '' but if I don't get Sam across, I'll give you a hymn- 
 book — Rippon's, new about a hundred years ago." 
 
 Knowing the peculiar qualities of the animal the older 
 brothers now consented to the trial, enjoining upon 
 *' Billy-Boy " great caution, and an immediate retreat in 
 case the pony should exhibit signs of fright or timidity. 
 Then the lad put his arm about the horse's neck, and 
 began to caress and address him very much as he might 
 have done a human being ; the docile creature meanwhile 
 responding with every sign of intelligence and affection. 
 After he had thus established a sort of magnetic connec- 
 tion between himself and the animal, the boy took the 
 bridle in his hand, close at the bit, and breaking into an 
 evidently improvised song, led him on an esisy, but steady, 
 walk upon the fallen poplar. 
 
 He had no difficulty in luring the pony upon the dizzy 
 bridge, nor a further distance of some twenty feet to 
 where the chasai began ; but there the animal doubtless 
 caught sight of the deep gulf below, for a sudden tremor 
 passed over him, and he shrank back well-nigh to his 
 haunches. 
 
 " Back him off, Billy, back him off," shouted the older 
 boys. The younger lad gave them no heed, but, clutch- 
 ing the bridle more tightly, he lifted the horse's head 
 high in the air, and shouted, in a voice to make the woods 
 ring, the refrain of his song, " Over the river with 
 Sammy." 
 
 No longer able to see the gloomy deep below him, the 
 horse recovered himself instantly, and at a leisurely pace 
 
WAR TIDINGS. 31 
 
 now followed the bov across the ravine. At the opposite 
 brink the lad ended his song, let down the pony's head, 
 and with a steady stride led him along the unhewn por- 
 tion of the poplar, which extended fully fifty feet to the 
 first branch. Then he sprang to the ground, and, with a 
 nimble leap, the pony followed. Once on the ground, the 
 boy showered upon the pony the same caresses that had 
 preceded the performance, the pony accepting them with 
 all the delight a dog shows at the fondhng of his master. 
 
 ^' I've lost the bet — yer the boy for me, Billy," cried 
 the woman. 
 
 "It war amazin' well done," said the Parson, "Ye 
 showed grit, narve, and ready wit, and hit's a drefful pity 
 sech a boy shud be lost in these yere mountings." 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Justin," said the lad; "but the 
 credit belongs to Sam. I wouldn't have tried it with any 
 other horse in Madison county." 
 
 Soon the party resumed their journey, and at the distance 
 of half a mile struck the highway, following which for a 
 couple of miles they came to a cross-road, where they 
 separated, the preacher and his wife keeping on up the 
 Ivy, the boys striking due north into the Walnut Moun- 
 tains. In another hour the young men had received the 
 glad welcome of their mother. 
 
32 A MOUJ^TAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 CHAPTEK II. 
 
 PRECEDING EVENTS. 
 
 The father of the young men who have been introduced 
 to the reader, was of highly honorable lineage. His family 
 was of the old-time Virginia gentry, and for more than 
 a century had held a prominent position in the political 
 life of that State, and of the South generally. His grand- 
 father had been an officer of the Revolution, and a per- 
 sonal friend of Washington ; and like his other friends, 
 Jefferson and Madison, he had been opposed to slavery, 
 and in favor of its gradual extinction ; aud this sentiment 
 had become traditional in the family, though all its mem- 
 bers, who ever rose to any prominence, had been slave- 
 holders. Being in Rome they adopted Roman customs, 
 from, perhaps, motives of expediency, without question- 
 ing whether they were right or wrong. 
 
 But it was not so with Benjamin Hawkins. He was a 
 man of strong moral convictions, and to him nothing was 
 expedient that conflicted with his keen sense of absolute 
 justice. He had no special love for the negro ; but re- 
 garding him as a man, he thought him entitled to freedom. 
 These sentiments he freely expressed, while yet a student 
 at the University of Virginia, and, before he was grad- 
 uated, he discovered that they had cost him the friendship 
 of his own relatives, and of some of the most influential 
 men in Virginia. He was known to possess talent, a 
 
PRECEDING EVENTS. 33 
 
 ready eloquence, and great moral intrepidity, and — lighted 
 candles are not safe things in a magazine of gunpowder. 
 He had studied with a view to a profession ; but he now 
 saw that his opinions would bar his way, not merely to 
 distinction, but to even a livelihood in any slave-holding 
 community, ^nd a livelihood he must have, not only for 
 himself, but for a young woman who shared his senti- 
 ments, and had consented to share his fortunes. He 
 miffht have thouo^ht of the North as the fit arena for one 
 of his opinions ; but his health was precarious, and he was 
 told that a mild and genial climate was essential to his 
 continued existence. Nowhere within the limits of the 
 Union could such a climate be found, free from the con- 
 tamination of slavery, except among the Southern Alle- 
 ghanies. 
 
 That region he knevv to be occupied by a rude and un- 
 cultivated people, who could afford only a meagre sup- 
 port to a member of any of the professions ; but with his 
 slender patrimony, he might there establish himself as an 
 extensive planter, gain a livelihood from the soil, and at 
 the same time, devote his rare abilities, and acquired 
 knowledge, to the instruction and elevation of the igno- 
 rant and unlettered population by whom he would be 
 surrounded. Thus, it will be seen, that not merely a de- 
 sire for health and competence, but also philanthropic 
 sentiment, led him to emigrate with his young wife to the 
 mountains of North Carolina. 
 
 Buying there an extensive tract of fertile laud, he built 
 upon it a roomy log mansion, which he furnished with 
 many of the appliances of an old civilization, including a 
 5 
 
34 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 well-selected library to wbicli he looked for companion- 
 ship for himself and wife, in the dearth of social fellow- 
 ship tliat he anticipated in that isolated region. His house 
 he planted in a picturesque locality', on a gentle slope, 
 overlooking a wide extent of forest-clad country. Before 
 its door coursed a rocky streamlet, with the ceaseless song 
 it had sung since the dawn of time, and around it, " rock- 
 ribbed and ancient as the sun," rose the mountains, in 
 every variety of outline, and every hue of gray and blue, 
 in domes, and peaks, and pinnacles, piercing the clouds, 
 and soaring aloft till they seemed to touch the very stars 
 in the infinite blue above them. 
 
 When the scene was first looked upon by the yonng 
 wife, as the two sat together on the low verandah of their 
 dwelling, it seemed to her unapproachable in its sublime 
 beauty. The sun was just sinking behind the distant 
 peaks, gilding the clouds and mountains with burnished 
 gold ; all the air was laden with the forest odors, and the 
 evening breeze came to their faces with an exhilarating 
 freshness, lapping their senses in a delicious dream, in 
 which they fancied that in a spot so silent, secluded, and 
 umbrageous, they might while away existence, forgetting 
 that weary heads and aching hearts are the heritage of all 
 the dwellers on this unrestful planet. But alas! the 
 morning brought them a rude awakening. The weary 
 heads and aching hearts were all about them, and vice, 
 and crime, and the lowest forms of animalism, held in 
 their slimy grip the larger part of that sylvan solitude. 
 In all that wide region there was not a single soul with 
 whom they could fifid congenial companionship. 
 
PRECEDING EVENTS. 35 
 
 Tliej liad looked for ignorance ; but not an ignorance 
 "deeper than ever plummet sounded;" they had ex- 
 pected to find its natural offspring, indolence and vice ; 
 but not indolence that was positive inertia, and vice unfit 
 to be named, its fetid breath tainting all the atmosphere. 
 Reared in a region where religion and morality, if not 
 always observed, were by all uniformly respected, they 
 had not conceived of a community in which they did not 
 so much as exist — where grown-up men and women 
 when spoken to of God, asked " Who is him ? '^ where 
 brothers intermarried with sisters, and husbands sold or 
 bartered away their wives as they did their hounds, and 
 women cast off their offspring almost as soon as they 
 could run alone, and had no other feeling for them than 
 that of the animals. To these lower deeps only a portion 
 of the population had fallen; but the slime had so over- 
 spread the whole community that a near-by settlement 
 had acquired the appropriate name of Sodom. They had 
 happened upon, perhaps, the most degraded locality in all 
 the Carolina mountains. 
 
 What struck the young couple with most astonishment 
 was that these people, with scarcely any exception, were 
 of the same blood as themselves — of English, JScotch- 
 Irish, and Pennsylvania Dutch descent, which races have 
 been the parent stock from which have sjDrung, not only 
 the greatest men, but the most moral and intelligent com- 
 munities, in our entire country. They knew" that the 
 first settlers of the region, as far back as 1750, were in- 
 telligent, God-fearing men, who, with dauntless courage, 
 and determined will, had overcome the savages, and the 
 
36 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 wilderness ; and they soon discovered tliat many of these 
 degraded proletaire^ bore the names, and w^ere the direct 
 descendants of heroes who had fought under John Sevier at 
 King's Mountain, and smote with Jackson the veterans of 
 Wellington at New Orleans. How then could the present 
 degradation of their descendants be accounted for ? How, 
 except by their isolated situation, and their lack of civil 
 and religious instruction ? Shut out from the world, as 
 they had been for a hundred years, the Nineteenth Cen- 
 tury had passed them by, leaving upon them not a trace 
 of its progress ; and the slave-holding interest had legis- 
 lated to keep them in ignorance — deprived them of 
 schools and churches — lest they should learn their rights, 
 and overthrow its power. 
 
 Shut out thus from the light, these people had abode 
 in darkness, until at last they had lost both the will and 
 the power to lift themselves to a higher condition. And, 
 as man never stands still — sinks downward if he does 
 not rise upward — so had they sunk deep and deeper into 
 a pool of slime until it had encrusted their entire natures. 
 But the living spark was still there. Latent in them all 
 were the great qualities of their God-fearing ancestors. 
 It needed only the gentle voice of love, the Ithuriel touch 
 of knowledge, to lift them from out that slimy pool, and 
 to seat them clothed, and in their right mind, at the feet 
 of Jesus. 
 
 " What a glorious work it wall be," they said one to the 
 other, " to acquaint these people with their rights and 
 privileges as free-born Americans ; to give them a knowl- 
 edge of God, and of their high heritage as His children, 
 
PRECEDING EVENTS. 37 
 
 11 is ministers, and co-workers through the infinite ages ! " 
 How the heart of this frail woman, and this ah'eady death- 
 stricken man, leaped to the work as they looked abroad 
 upon fields laden heavy with unripened grain, and wait- 
 ing only for the reapers to gather in the harvest ! This 
 grain should not be suffered to wither and rot upon the 
 ground ; it should be gathered into the garner of God, 
 and these two, lonely and feeble as they were, would be 
 the reapers. 
 
 So, this young man and woman went joyfully about the 
 task of educating and uplifting the poor people of their 
 neighborho(d. She, delegating her household duties to 
 an aged freed woman who had come with her from Yir- 
 ginia, opened a school for their children in a wing which 
 was added to their log dwelling ; and there she taught 
 them to read and write, and how to do well such house- 
 hold employments as would fall to their lot when they 
 became men and women : and he built a meetino^-house 
 on a corner of his land, about a mile from his residence, 
 and there every Sunday, and often on week-day evenings, 
 gave to adults and children such simple instruction as 
 concerns every American citizen, and every immortal 
 being, adapting with great skill his teaching to their 
 capacities, and gradually luring them on to a higher 
 knowledge. 
 
 At first the novelty of the thing attracted the people 
 to the meetings, and they went away neither wiser nor 
 better for what they had heard ; but interested by the 
 simple stories with which, after the manner of the Great 
 Master, the young man illustrated his teachings. These 
 
38 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 stories they repeated to their neighbors, till the whole 
 eoimtry within a radius of twenty miles had tidings of 
 the new preacher, and such crowds gathered to hear him 
 as overflowed the little building, and filled all the space 
 around it to the utmost reach of his voice. Soon he saw 
 the results of liis teaching in children cleanly in person, 
 and gentle in demeanor, and in men and women decently 
 clad, eager to learn, and anxious to do their duties as 
 fathers and mothers, and American citizens. In less 
 than a twelve-month upwards of twenty couple, who had 
 lived together unlawfully for years, were joined in legal 
 wedlock, and this young man, without other ordination 
 than that given by an earnest soul, and a peculiar fitness 
 for the work he was doing, had organized a religious 
 community of seventy members, and a Sabbath-school of 
 still larger numbers. This he had done to hold these 
 people to their good resolutions, to commit them openly 
 to a better life, and thus to make of every one of them 
 an instrument of good in his neighborhood. 
 
 Thus did this young man and woman labor, year after 
 year, till a moral revolution was effected in the benighted 
 community. And they had their reward, not only in 
 men and women whom they saw " clothed, and in their 
 right mind," but in the sincere affection and regard of 
 all the country round. 
 
 But the zeal of the self-ordained clergyman overtasked 
 his physical powers. The seeds of consumption were in 
 his system when he left Virginia, and sensitive lungs are 
 not strengthened by the extra effort of breathing the 
 rare atmosphere of a region nearly three thousand feet 
 
PRECEDING EVENTS. 39 
 
 above the sea. So, at the end of six years, lie laid down 
 his work, and went to his reward, leaving his frail joung 
 wife to rear alone their three little boys, the youngest of 
 whom was but an infant at her breast. 
 
 The young mother of three helpless children, who was 
 thus, at the early age of twenty-four, cast upon her own 
 resources, was no ordinary woman. In the summer of 
 1883 I met her several times at her home, and gathered 
 from her the incidents I am relating ; and, if I were to give, 
 in the language that comes uppermost, the impression 
 she then made upon me, I might be suspected of ex- 
 aggeration. While relating some portions of her narra- 
 tive she reminded me of the great actress, Rachel, as I 
 saw her, on the eve of the Conjp d^etat — when all Paris 
 was hushed by the awful stillness that precedes the first 
 throe of the earthcpiake — seize the tri-colored flag, and, 
 waving it above her head, thrill and electrify three thou- 
 sand Frenchmen with the wonderful Marseillaise. In form 
 and feature Mrs. Hawkins was not unlike Rachel, only 
 she was more queenly, more commanding. Art had not 
 fashioned her, but nature, and nature when in the mood 
 to produce a uiagnificent woman. 
 
 She was a remarkable person, and anywhere, in any 
 sphere, would have exerted a deep and strong influence 
 upon the community. When I knew her, sixty years had 
 traced some deep lines about her mouth, and streaked 
 with gray her once chestnut-brown hair, but there was 
 still grace and vigor in her every movement, and a look 
 in her clear, spiritual eyes, whicli told of a serene and 
 lofty spirit, that might bo bent, but could not be broken, 
 
40 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 bj earthly calamity ; for it was anchored " within the 
 vailj" where she lived, face to face with the Invisible. 
 Those wdio knew her when she was yonng told me that 
 she w^as then very beautiful, and I could easily believe it, 
 for she was so yet, though her beauty was no longer of 
 form or feature, but of the soul, which in repose looked 
 through her eyes in a dreamy, faraway gaze, but when 
 stirred by some thrilling recollection, would flash forth 
 in a sort of heroic fire that blazed and scorched like the 
 blast from a furnace. It struck me that a most intense, 
 passionate nature had in her been trained, and elevated 
 by Christian faith into an habitual serenity, which was 
 never disturbed, except when some memory of the tragic 
 past swept over her in a sudden tempest. 
 
 The calamity of her husband's death did not come 
 upon Mrs. Hawkins singly. The aged servant, who had 
 relieved her laro:elv from household cares, also died at 
 this period. Left thus absolutely alone to rear and pro- 
 vide for three little boys — the oldest scarcely five years 
 of age, she was obliged to discontinne the school at her 
 dwelling, and also all regular attendance upon the Sab- 
 bath-school, in the management of which she had been 
 especially active. The services of the little church Avere, 
 how^ever, continued by the Parson Justin, who has been 
 seen trudging along the French Broad road in the wake 
 of his more energetic help-mate. 
 
 This man at the age of twenty-two, had been taught 
 to read and write by Mrs. Hawkins, in her school for 
 young children, and having a degree of ready wit, and a 
 certain glibness of tongue, he had been found useful in 
 
PEECEDIXG EVENTS. 41 
 
 tlie conduct of the Sabbatli-school. He was born, and 
 still lived, in a dilapidated log-house, about two miles 
 awaj', on one of the upper branches of the Ivj. The 
 building had been erected some liftj years before by his 
 grandfather, who, it was said, had fled to these mountains 
 to escape the penalty of some crime committed on the 
 seaboard. Here he remained undisturbed — perhaps be- 
 cause justice thought him not worth the following — and 
 here he bought a small patch of ground, built a roomy 
 log-dwelling, and went about raising small crops of corn 
 and sweet ])otatoe3, swapping broken-down horses, and 
 over-reaching his more simple-minded neighbors. 
 
 In the course of nature he died, leading his worldly 
 jDOssessions to a son, who, even in this paradise of indo- 
 lence, acquired the name of the " laziest man in Madison 
 county." He forced the Parson, when he was only a sci-ap 
 of a boy, to plant his corn and potatoes, and then leav- 
 ing them to be strangled with weeds, this paragon of lazi- 
 ness would sit all day, pipe in mouth, in front of his door, 
 and hail every transient passer-by with an invitation to 
 join him in a smoke, with all the complacency of a great 
 landed proprietor. Magnificent timber stood in the for- 
 est not two hundred yards from his door-way, but when 
 his wife wanted fire-wood, he would tear a log from out 
 the front of his dwelling — for was not the edifice alto- 
 gether too large, and this timber already seasoned ? This 
 he did, log by log, and piece by piece, till the entire face 
 of tlie building had disappeared, walls, floors, doors, and 
 window-sash — all but the upper floor, and the two corner 
 posts that supported the roof; ajid those he might have 
 6 
 
42 • A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 demolished had it not been too much of a task to climb 
 the ladder which led to the second story. 
 
 The result was that when he took his lazy way under 
 ground, and left his property to the Parson, the dwelling 
 presented a unique appearance, even for this region of 
 nondescript structures. Along the whole front was a 
 wide gap, Tvithout a window except in the upper story ; 
 the huge outside chimney had half crumbled away, allow- 
 ing the smoke and flames to char and blacken the entire 
 end of the building ; not a window was without a broken 
 pane, not a door hung upon its hinges, and the roof was 
 heaped high with heavy stones to keep down the puncheon 
 slabs which had been warped and twisted by the sun of 
 fifty summers. The grounds were in a like state of di- 
 lapidation — the barn an unroofed ruin, and the pig- sty 
 broken down, with the swine running freely about the 
 wretched patch of weedy corn, that grew at the rear of 
 the premises. 
 
 Into possession of this dilapidated inheritance. Parson 
 Justin came when he was twenty years of age, and he 
 had no sooner bestowed his father snugly under ground, 
 than, thinking " it is not good that n:ian should be alone," 
 he looked about him for a woman who should be ostensibly 
 his housekeeper, but in reality, his drudge and concubine. 
 Such an one he found in the energetic female who piloted 
 the Hawkins boys over the Ivy. 
 
 She was then a girl of only fourteen, but in stature al- 
 ready a woman. Somewhat sun- browned, she was still ex- 
 ceedingly beautiful, with a form fully developed, and ex- 
 quisitely moulded. She was as erect as a flag-staff, supple 
 
PRECEDING EVENTS. 43 
 
 as an eel, and graceful as a leopard, and she had withal an 
 easj freedom of manner that rebelled at any control ex- 
 cept that of her own wayward volitions. Her dark- 
 brown hair was as glossy as silk ; her eyes were blazing 
 coals lit from some volcano within her. She was em- 
 bodied restlessness, ever on the move, and taking no ac- 
 count of live-barred fences, or like impediments. Plac- 
 ing her hand upon the shoulder of a spirited sixteen-hand 
 horse, she would vault upon his back, and race him about 
 the country without saddle or bridle, giving no heed to 
 stumps, or fallen trees, or mountain torrents. She was 
 the very poetry of motion ; but she slung things about in 
 a very unpoetical fashion. 
 
 However, she had not been mistress of the place a 
 month before she had reduced Justin to complete subjec- 
 tion, and the premises to a tolerable sort of order — tlie 
 holes in the windows were closed with rags, the doors 
 swung again easily upon their hinges, and the pigs were 
 confined to their sty, and kept out of the corn-field. The 
 interior of the house also took on a more orderly appear- 
 ance, and yet, house-keeping was not Sukey's " gift." 
 She preferred to I'oani the woods, rifle or shot-gun in 
 hand, in pursuit of the deer or wild rabbit. With these 
 she kept their larder well stocked, and sometimes she 
 brought down game that would have been regarded as a 
 trophy by a male sportsman — on two or three occasions, 
 a bear, and once a panther, which had stretched itself along 
 the limb of a tree, and was about to spring down upon her. 
 
 This couple had lived together about a year when the 
 Hawkins family came into the neighborhood, and opened 
 
44 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 the school and meeting which has been referred to. With 
 nothing else to do, Justin took it into his head to acquire 
 the " rudiments of sound learning ; " and having inherited 
 the quick intelligence of his grandfather, it was not long 
 before he had mastered the spelling-book, and got through 
 tlie *' JS^ational Reader." Then he exchanged Sukej's 
 panther-skin with Mr. Hawkins for a Bible, and having 
 floundered through a few of its pages, he regarded him- 
 self as a scholar. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mrs. Hawkins had become acquainted with 
 Sukey, and she now urged upon her to follow the exam- 
 ple of her husband — reading would be a solace to her in 
 his absence, and enliven the time when they were together 
 during the long winter evenings. One of Sukey's virtues 
 was plain speaking, and she accordingly replied, "I doan't 
 keer for solace, ma'am, I doan't use terbaccy that way. 
 Bob does ; I only dips. An' I doan't mind him bein' 
 away — he hain't no company, the hounds is better; 
 'sides with such a lazy loon as him to find in vittles, I 
 hain't no time ter read. Most every day, winter and sum- 
 mer, I has ter tramp it in the woods, an' when I gits 
 home I'se too done gone tired ter holt my head up." 
 
 Not long after Mr. Hawkins began the Sunday meet- 
 ings, Justin received '^serious impressions" — had some 
 slight pains in the region of the stomach — and going 
 home he said to Sukey, laying his hand on the spot, " I 
 feels awful bad round yere, Sukey ; that shows I'se gettin' 
 religion." 
 
 ** Wa'll," said Sukey, "I hopes hit will do yer good — 
 suthink'll have ter, or ye' 11 never be a man." 
 
PRECEDING EVENTS. 45 
 
 After awhile Justin blossomed out a full-blown con- 
 vert, and applied to Mr. Hawkins to be enrolled amono^ 
 the members of his community — church it could scarcely 
 be called, for he taught no creed, and, not being ordained, 
 practised no baptism. To this Mr. Hawkins objected so 
 long as Justin lived in unholy relations with Siikey — the 
 thing, he said, was in every way scandalous, and they 
 ought to be married. Thereupon Justin proposed to 
 Sukey to go with him to Marshall, and be spliced in civ- 
 ilized fashion. This the woman bluntlv refused to do, 
 insinuating pretty plainly that she was even then look- 
 ing about for "another feller," and Justin would very 
 soon have to kill his own venison. Really alarmed, 
 he reported her refusal at once to Mr. Hawkins, ex- 
 pressing, however, concern for Sukey's soul, and not 
 fear for the threatened shortage in his supply of daily 
 provender. 
 
 The situation being made known to Mrs. Hawkins, 
 she mounted her horse, and rode over to Justin's " plan- 
 tation." The gentle woman, by her kindly ways, had 
 already won the heart of the untamed daughter of the 
 woods; this she knew, and consequently she felt sure of 
 a friendly w^elcome. In this she w^as not disappointed. 
 She had no sooner opened the door than Sukey's expres- 
 sive features lighted up, and dropping the garment she 
 was trying, for perhaps the fiftieth time, to patch, she 
 grasped Mrs. Hawkins by the hand, and exclaimed, 
 " I'se right glad ter see ye, ma'am ; hit's good for sore 
 eves an' a sore heart — hit's loike a bit o' the sun shiniu' 
 down inter the deep ravine along the Ivy." 
 
46 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 Mrs. Hawkins responded kindly to this greeting, and 
 soon opened the subject she had come to talk about. It 
 was wrong, she said, for Sukey and Justin to live 
 together as they were living. Sukey should marry him 
 to take away the disgrace from herself, and to strengthen 
 the good resolutions he had formed to lead a better life, — 
 which he could not do, if he continued to live in such a 
 relation with her as was not sanctioned by either the law 
 or the Christian religion. 
 
 Sukey heard her through without remark, and then 
 answered, gravely, *' I doan't set no valu' on his good 
 resolutions, ma'am, an' ye moutn't if ye know'd him as 
 I does. He's just loike what they say uv liis farder and 
 gran'ther — lazy as one, an' as big a thief as t'other. 
 Why, he steals game thet I gits by all-day hunting; and 
 swops hit off for bacon. He'd ruther pay twenty cents 
 a pound for greasy swine-flesh, nor eat my best venison 
 for nothin'. An' the swine ar' got inter his blood — made 
 him just loike the porkers, an' thet's the trouble with all 
 the folks round yere. They'se lived on swine so long 
 that they'se got to be swine tharselves. But, ye say 
 true, ma'am, hit's a disgrace for me to live with him as 
 folks thinks I does live. 1 take shame to myself for ever 
 doin' hit — not 'case the Parson, nor the Justice, never 
 said a few words over us ; but 'case I lowered myself ter 
 live with such a man. No one ever told me afore that 
 hit war wrong. All the folks round yere does the loikes. 
 But, I doan't live so now. Soon as I found him out I 
 said to him, 'Thet ar' yer side uv the house, an' this ar' 
 is mine, an' hit won't be healthy for ye ter step over the 
 
PEECEDING EVENTS. 47 
 
 line atween us.' He hain't tried to, fur with all the rest, 
 he's a durnM coward. Xow, he's comin' this marryin' 
 dodge jest ter git nie ter live with him agin; thet ar' tlie 
 meaniii' o' the hull uv hit — Sunday meetin' an' all. 
 But hit won't work. The minit we was spliced 1 
 couldn't holp myself. No, ma'am, I'd sooner be a slave- 
 nigger, nor be tied fur life ter such a man." 
 
 Seeing that further argument would be of no avail, and 
 questioning much if the poor girl were not right in refus- 
 ing to be the wife of Justin, Mrs. Hawkins said nothing 
 more, except to ask Sukey to come and visit her whenever 
 she had leisure to do so. 
 
 " Bo ye mean thet, ma'am ! " exclaimed the girl. 
 " Does 3'er know how much I want ter come ter ye ! how 
 I never yere yer voice, or git one uv yer kind looks, but 
 hit stirs me all through and through, lifts me up loike, 
 an' makes me long ter be better. I'se a pore ignurunt 
 girl, ma'am, as never had no bringin' up, but if I could 
 once in a while talk ter ye, I might larn suthin', I might 
 grow to be a good woman." 
 
 With a w^arm pressure of the hand, Mrs. Hawkins 
 answered, " Come to me often, Sukey ; you can't come 
 too often, I shall always be glad to see you, and in every 
 way I will do all I can for you." 
 
 Soon after this Sukey joined the school, and then be- 
 came a regular attendant upon the Sunday meetings, and 
 it was not many months before the patient love and 
 kindness of Mrs. Hawkins had made of this wild waif of 
 the forest a new creature. Of course, she did not all at 
 once lay aside her uncouth ways, and become a model of 
 
48 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 propriety and refinement, for how could slie cast off in 
 a moment the habits of a life-time ? But day by day she 
 was seen to be more tidy in her apparel, more refined in 
 her manners, more gentle in her deportment, and soon 
 she came to a fixed resolve to lead a new life, and be a 
 true woman. 
 
 Justin also gave evidence of real amendment. His 
 treatment of 8ukey became especially kind and consid- 
 erate. He had never before thought of relieving her 
 from any portion of the household drudgery, but now he 
 rose betimes to build the fire, fetch the water, cut and 
 carry in the wood, and he even swept the floors, made his 
 own bed, and set to rights his own bedroom. After the 
 manner of his lazy sire, he had been accustomed to pass 
 much of his time sitting idly before the door-way, tainting 
 the air with clouds of cheap tobacco ; but now his pipe 
 was reserved for rare occasions, and this wasted time was 
 expended in repairing the fences, hoeing the corn, and 
 putting a new roof upon the ancient barn, to render it a 
 fit shelter for a neglected horse, which heretofore, winter 
 and summer, had known no other lodging-place than the 
 open air of the forest. This horse had till now been 
 suffered, as had Sukey, to get its livelihood by its own 
 industry ; but now it was provided with fodder, and 
 Justin even went so far as to rub it down with a wisp of 
 straw — a curry-comb being a thing unknown in that 
 particular locality. The result was, the creature got 
 some flesh upon its ribs, some gloss upon its coat, and 
 some spirit into its soul — that is, if it had a soul, and I 
 suppose it had, if the term be restricted to so much of the 
 
PRECEDING EVENTS. 49 
 
 thinking principle as cognizes, and takes thought of, the 
 relations of sensible objects. 
 
 Soon, through all the country round, the moral revolu- 
 tion which had been wrought in this man was known, 
 and remarked upon ; and so, he became like a lantern in 
 a dark night, like a bon-fire upon a mountain-top, and 
 men said to one another, " If the Parson's talk kin fotch 
 sich a change inter such a critter as Bob Justin, thar 
 must be suthin' in them ar' meetin's." 
 
 All this may have indicated a positive and genuine 
 reformation of character, or it may have resulted from 
 the fact that in the Bible, which Justin had bought with 
 the panther-robe stolen from Sukey, he had read the story 
 of the patriarch Jacob — how he worked seven years for 
 a wife, and then, getting cheated, worked another seven 
 years for that same damsel, who by that time must have 
 gotten pretty well along in life — older by half than 
 Sukey — and, perhaps, not half so beautiful. Now, it 
 must not be supposed that Justin had the most distant 
 resemblance to Jacob. He had neither his shrewdness, 
 his pastoral knowledge, nor yet, the patient persistence 
 with which for fourteen years the old patriarch followed 
 up a commendable purpose. But, where Jacob had 
 worked years for Rachel, might not Justin work months 
 for Sukey. She was certainly worth that amount of 
 effort now that her face was washed, her hair combed, 
 her attire made more becoming, and her wild nature tamed 
 to absolute gentleness, by the loving influence of Mrs. 
 Hawkins. I do not affirm that this was actually the case, I 
 only know that before half of fourteen months had elapsed, 
 T 
 
50 A MOUNTAIX-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 the poor unsophisticated girl said to that ladj, *' I can't 
 love him, ma'am, I'se tried ter, but I can't. Perhaps I 
 mout if he'd allers l)een as kind, and patient, an' gentle as 
 he ar' now ; but, whenever I tries ter feel right ter him, 
 thar comes up ter me his old loungiii' ways, his lazy keer 
 for his own carcus, and his low down sperrit — mean 
 enuff ter be cowed by a woman. Hit ar' sartin that he 
 ar' another man, an' hit mout be, that I orter marry him 
 to keep him so. Won't ye tole me what to do, ma'am? " 
 
 Mrs. Hawkins declined to advise Sukey in a matter of 
 such vital moment to her whole f nture ; but slie said 
 decidedly that she could not with propriety live any 
 longer with Justin without becoming his wife — it might 
 be right in itself, it might escape censure from that com- 
 munity, but it bore the appearance of evil, and that 
 should be avoided by all who tried to lead a Christian 
 life. 
 
 Thus it came about that Justin attained his object, and 
 Sukey, having made one great mistake, made, in conse- 
 quence of it, another and a greater. Deeply she regretted 
 it ; with bitter tears she sought some way to free herself 
 from her thraldom, but she found none ; and so, worn 
 in body, and weary of soul, she carried that chain to the 
 end of her days. Alas ! she sadly learned that the en- 
 trance of evil is like the flowing in of waters — the 
 sluice-gate once opened, the floods pour in, and the whole 
 life is overwhelmed by the deluge. 
 
 But Sukey held her peace, disclosing her misery not 
 even to Mrs. Hawkins ; and thus it was that Justin, 
 though he habitually snarled like a wolf, or growled like 
 
PRECEDING EVENTS. 51 
 
 a bear, at home, could venture abroad undetected, while 
 arrayed, as be always was, in a well-fitting suit of sheep's 
 clothing. He even had the address to pass his counter- 
 feit piety upon Mrs. Hawkins, and thereby to succeed 
 her husband in his ministry at the little meeting-house. 
 The pay was poor — a few bags of corn-meal, and a few 
 bushels of sweet potatoes — but the preaching was not 
 much better, and all the good there was in it, cost liim no 
 effort ; for it was derived from Mrs. Hawkins, who 
 " coached " him regularly every Saturday. Thus with 
 Sukey to make not less than three hunting excursions a 
 week, he could let the weeds grow up in his garden, and go 
 about his " parish " in indolent ease, a " shining light," a 
 " moral miracle" — all which he was, and something more, 
 as will appear farther on in this history. 
 
 The iifteen years that followed the death of her hus- 
 band flowed on in the life of Mrs. Hawkins in a placid 
 stream, without a ripple, or a single noteworthy obstruc- 
 tion. Her boys grew up all that she would have them — 
 manly, pure-hearted, high-principled, and devotedly at- 
 tached to her, and to one another ; and though she shrank 
 from publicity, and never appeared even in the little 
 meeting-house except as a listener, she continued to be a 
 moral force which gave most of its real vitality to the 
 whole of this mountain neighborhood. By all these peo- 
 ple she was regarded with a respect that bordered upon 
 veneration, and though she never obtruded upon them 
 her opinions on public affairs, her counsel was sought, 
 and her advice followed, in all matters of concern to the 
 rustic communitv. Such was the condition of thin^^s 
 
52 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 when news arrived that war had broken out in Charleston 
 Harbor, and this preliminary statement has seemed nec- 
 essary to a clear understanding of the events that fol- 
 lowed. 
 
THE CAPTURE OF ELLIS. 53 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE CAPTURE OF ELLIS. 
 
 Like a fire through a prairie the news of the fall of 
 Fort Sumter swept through all that mountain region, 
 creating a general panic ; but when the first alarm was 
 over, the people of the district settled down into a quiet 
 con^dction that the conflagration would not reach their 
 borders. Seven States had already seceded, but they 
 deemed North Carolina fast anchored in the Union, and 
 had no fear that she would slip her cable, and drift out 
 into the tempest. But the State did secede, and tidings 
 of the event reached Marshall, the county seat of Madison 
 county, in the latter part of Maj^, a little more than a 
 month after the fall of Fort Sumter. 
 
 These tidings were heard by a tall man, mounted upon a 
 large, raw-boned horse, who had just entered the town, and 
 was about to alight at tlie Court-House, around which was 
 gathered the numerous crowd that, in this region, always at- 
 tends a session of the Court. This man listened attentively 
 to the news, asked a few questions of the bystanders, and 
 then turned his horse's head as if about to ride Sisvay. As 
 he did so, some one near him asked, " G'wine ter leave, 
 Reuben? Thor't ye hed a case 'fore the Court." 
 
 " Well, I have," he answered, " but it won't come on 
 till this murder trial is over. I prefer being home to 
 loungino; 'round here." 
 
54 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 Saying this he rode briskly down the river road, to where 
 another road, branching from it on the right, leads to Warm 
 Springs over the Wahiut Mountains. Here he halted at a 
 blacksmith's shop, while the smith fastened the shoes of 
 his horse, and then at a rapid pace, he rode up the steep 
 and rugged highway that there climbs the mountain. 
 
 He seemed a man of about thirty years, and, though 
 clad in homespun, was of striking appearance, and evi- 
 dently of a higher intelligence than the motley crowd 
 he had left at tlie Court- House. He was of large stature, 
 with a deep chest, broad shoulders, long and muscular 
 arras, and a large head, covered by a slouched-hat from 
 underneath which escaped a heavy mass of glossy black 
 hair. His beard, which had apparently never known a 
 razor, covered the whole of his face except his high cheek- 
 bones, a prominent nose, and eyes that were large, deeply 
 black, and of a peculiar intensity. He sat his horse with 
 the ease peculiar to these mountain people, and his whole 
 bearing indicated the conscious power that usually accom- 
 panies more than common mental or ph^'sical ability. 
 
 About three miles up the road he came to what is 
 known as Walnut Creek, and there, turning sharply to 
 the left, he rode rapidly on by a narrow lane to a log- 
 house, at the brow of the mountain, overlooking the 
 Frencli Broad, and, by an air line, not more than a mile 
 and a half distant from the Court-House whence he 
 had started. As his horse's feet sounded on the path 
 leading to the house, a comely, tidily-dressed woman 
 came to the door-way, and said to him, " What ! ar ye 
 back so soon, Reuben ? " 
 
THE CAPTURE OF ELLI3. 55 
 
 " Yes, Phebe," he answered, '' Thar's stirrin' news. 
 The State has seceded. I want to talk over things with 
 Mrs. Hawkins. Won't you come with me ? " 
 
 '*Bnt how can I? I can't leave the children," she 
 answered. 
 
 " Take 'em along," he replied, " Mrs. Hawkins will be 
 glad to see them. I'll look after Robby, while you mind 
 the baby. And huriy up. It won't do to keep the little 
 ones out after dark, and I've a good deal to say to Mrs. 
 Hawkins." 
 
 In not many minutes the wife was seated upon the 
 hoi'se behind the husband, and though the distance was 
 nearly eight miles over a rough mountain road, in less 
 than two hours the party were climbing the steep path 
 that led up to the dwelling of Mrs. Hawkins. They had 
 no sooner entered the open gateway than a large hound 
 sprang forward to meet them with lively demonstrations 
 of welcome. 
 
 The noisy greeting of the dog brought one of the 
 family to tlie door, and soon the visitors had entered a 
 wide hall, and been ushered into the sitting-room of the 
 spacious log mansion. This apartment, which extended 
 the entire depth of the building, presented a curious 
 mixture of eleo^ance and rusticitv. Ao^ainst a wall of 
 matched boarding, colored a soft gray tint, and orna- 
 mented with forest leaves and branches of fern, were 
 hnng, in heavy gilt frames, old family portraits, and bat- 
 tle pieces by well-known artists ; and on a rough stone- 
 hearth rested a brass fender, and andirons, of rare and 
 antique pattern. A carved table was in the centre of 
 
56 A MOUNTAIN- WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 tlie room, a cushioned sofa against one of the walls, and 
 hair-seated chairs were scattered about in close proximity 
 to others in rustic frames and deer-skin bottoms. The 
 floor was covered with a home-made rag-carpet, and here 
 and there about the apartment was the oval mat of the 
 same material, which was the pride of our great-grand- 
 mothers. Over the door, on a rack of deer's horn, were 
 suspended a couple of long-barreled rifles, and along the 
 farther wall, on plain oak shelves, were perhaps a hundred 
 volumes that would have graced a scholar's library. The 
 trophy of Sukey's encounter with the panther, was 
 spread before the hearth, on which blazed a birch-wood 
 fire, filling the room with a peculiar fragrance, and dis- 
 pelling the chilliness that even late in May clings to the 
 atmosphere in these mountain altitudes. 
 
 Before this fire sat Mrs. Hawkins, her rich chestnut 
 hair, not yet streaked with gray, nor her expressive face 
 seamed with the deep lines that tell of a sorrowful his- 
 tory. She gave her visitors a quiet, but cordial greeting, 
 and then, while she lifted the little boy upon lier knee, 
 slie said, " Yon bring bad news, Reuben. I see it in your 
 troubled face." 
 
 "I do, ma'am," he answered, taking a chair near her, 
 while his w^ife seated herself beside him. " The country 
 is gone — the State has declared itself out of the Union." 
 
 "I've expected it ever since Virginia seceded," she 
 remarked in a quiet tone. 
 
 ''Tennessee will probably go next, and Kentucky and 
 Maryland will follow ; and then we shall have hot-pitch, 
 and standino^ armies, to our heart's content." 
 
THE CAPTURE OF ELLIS. 57 
 
 " No doubt we shall — for a time — but the line will 
 be distinctly drawn between slavery and freedom," replied 
 Mrs. Hawkins. 
 
 "And we shall be on the wrong side of it, madam, and 
 I want my boys brought up in freedom. I have come to 
 ask you what I shall do — I'm thinking I'd better go 
 back to Ohio." 
 
 " What ! Will you give up your property, and abandon 
 the post God has given you, at the bidding of traitors ? 
 You will not escape the war by doing that, Beuben," 
 she remarked, with decided earnestness. 
 
 " Then you think that war will come ? " 
 
 "I don't see how it can be avoided. Have you not 
 heard of the uprising at the North over the news from 
 Fort Sumter?" 
 
 " Yes ; and if there is to be war I want to light on the 
 right side. I will not lift a hand against the country — 
 I'd sooner give up all I have, and go back to Ohio." 
 
 " If you stay here, can you not refuse to fight ? " 
 
 "No, Mrs. Hawkins," he answered, " The Governor has 
 already called for thirty thousand men, and the Legisla- 
 ture has declared every man a traitor who doesn't sup- 
 port North Carolina. If the thirty thousand don't vol- 
 unteer, they'll be drafted, and forced into the ranks." 
 
 " If I were a man," said Mrs. Hawkins, " I think no 
 State could force me to fight against my convictions; 
 and, woman as I am, I believe I can prevent the Con- 
 federacy obtaining a single recruit from among these 
 mountains ; and you, Reuben Ellis, can help me do it." 
 
 "How can I help you, Mrs. Hawkins?" asked Ellis. 
 8 
 
58 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 " By telling these people the truth — that they are asked 
 to fight for a system which keeps them in poverty and 
 ignorance. Slavery does that. It shuts every respecta- 
 ble employment against the poor white man. The fact 
 that all honest work was done by the slave was what 
 forced the fathers of these people to these sterile moun- 
 tains, and, being here, the slave-holders have legislated 
 for a hundred years to keep them in ignorance. To be 
 convinced that slavery is the cause of all the poverty and 
 ignorance you see, you have only to contrast the condition 
 of the people here with that of the poor white men you 
 have seen in the North. The slave-holders say openly 
 that they secede because the country has elected a Presi- 
 dent who is unfriendly to slavery; and they mean to erect 
 anew government to make the system perpetual. If the 
 poor white man here understood this, and realized the 
 effect of slavery upon himself, would he fight to uphold 
 it, and fasten it upon his children forever ? You, Reu- 
 ben, have lived in Ohio, and so you know what freedom 
 does for the working man. You can tell this to these 
 people ; they trust you, and will believe what you say, 
 for you were born among them." 
 
 '' I think they would believe me," said Reuben ; " but 
 if they did, and should refuse to fight, what would it 
 amount to ? The Confederacy would force us into the 
 ranks, for what could we do against the w^hole South?" 
 
 " Do ? " exclaimed Mrs. Hawkins, ^' you could do your 
 duty ; you could die right here in your own mountains. 
 Better do that than to fight against the right, and your 
 own freedom. I have three boys that I love better than 
 
THE CAPTUKE OF ELLIS. 59 
 
 I love my life ; but I would see them all dead at ray feet 
 rather than have them lift a hand against their country. 
 But the Confederacy cannot force you to fight for it. 
 You can hide among the mountains, and we women will 
 raise the crops, and supply you with food. If they send 
 men against you, you can resist them, and if you are 
 killed in the struggle, it will be better to die so than in 
 fighting to uphold slavery." 
 
 "What you say decides me, Mrs. Hawkins," said Ellis. 
 " I will stand my ground, and try to do my duty." 
 
 "I know you will, Eeuben," she answered, "for you 
 are sound and true to the heart's core. And keep up 
 good courage ; for the end is sure. The right must 
 triumph. Slavery is about to bring upon itself its own 
 destruction.' ' 
 
 The Governor's call for thirty thousand troops was 
 promptly responded to by about twenty thousand ; but 
 no sooner had the first alarm subsided than the general 
 enthusiasm cooled down, and the people went about their 
 ordinary pursuits as if the first throes of an earthquake 
 were not shaking the Continent. This was especially true 
 of the mountain region. A recruiting station had been 
 established at Asheville, under Colonel James G. Martin, 
 but neither his appeals, nor the actual invasion of the 
 State, and capture of Koanoke Island, by General Burn- 
 side, availed to induce the mountain population to tender 
 their services to the Confederacy. They heard the dis- 
 tant echoes of the war, and the sounds were not unwel- 
 come, for taught by sucli hopeful prophets as Reuben 
 
60 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 Ellis and Nancy Hawkins, they regarded them as the 
 first foretellings of their own emancipation. " Without 
 the shedding of blood," said Mrs. Hawkins, " there is no 
 remission ; and for its great crime of two hundred years, 
 the country must make expiation. The clash of antag- 
 onistic principles always precedes national progress, and 
 only through bloody struggle can the country advance to 
 true freedom. The clash has come, and whatever may 
 happen to us, the end is sure, for God reigns." 
 
 Cheered by such words, the mountain people of this 
 neighborhood abode at their homes, and it is said, that 
 during the entire year next succeedii)g the fall of Fort 
 Sumter, not a solitary one of them was enrolled in the 
 ranks of Secession. 
 
 The forces of the Confederacy had been so largely re- 
 duced by desertion, and the casualties of war, that when 
 the Federal armies began operations in February, 1862, it 
 was wholly unprepared to meet them. In this emergency 
 President Davis called upon the Confederate Congress to 
 resort to a general conscription. The Congress accord- 
 ingly passed an act on the 16th of April, 1862, which 
 declared all male citizens of the Confederacy, between 
 the ages of eighteen and thirty-five, soldiers during the 
 continuance of the war, or until they should have arrived 
 at the age of thirty- five. Each man was to be allowed 
 thirty da^^s to volunteer ; but failing to do so, and not ap- 
 pearing fo]- actual duty, within that time, he was to be re- 
 garded as guilty of desertion from the ranks, and liable 
 to its penalty — death at the order of a drum-head court- 
 martial. 
 
THE CAPTURE OF ELLIS. 61 
 
 When the foregoing action of Congress became known 
 in the mountain region, Reuben Ellis called all the men 
 of the neighborhood together, and they unanimously re- 
 solved to resist the conscription. They formed them- 
 selves into a company with Ellis as captain, and Alex- 
 ander Hawkins as lieutenant, and it was decided that 
 every man should go constantly armed in readiness to en- 
 counter the conscript officers. A signal system was also 
 agreed upon by which to convey tidings, and call the men 
 together to meet any sudden emergency. 
 
 The spirit which animated the community is indicated 
 by the reply of Mrs. Hawkins to her older sons when told 
 by them that they were drafted to fight for the Confed- 
 eracy. " Fight ! ' ' she echoed — " tight against your coun- 
 try, while there are woods you can hide among ! I had 
 rather see you dead at my feet ! Go ! take your guns, and 
 go into the mountains. There is a God in Heaven, and 
 He will see that the right is not finally overcome." 
 
 The young men did not go at once into the mountains, 
 and soon an occasion arose which tested their resolution. 
 Services were held regularly in the little log meeting-house, 
 and though Parson Justin was not as zealous as Paul, nor 
 as eloquent, and mighty in the scriptures as Apollos, they 
 were tolerably well attended, for, with the help of Mrs. 
 Hawkins, the Parson did manage to give the people some 
 grains of truth, though it was mixed with the weeds which 
 had sprung up in that section during a century of ignorance. 
 These weeds Mrs. Hawkins could not altogether extirpate, 
 and she was forced to let them grow up with the wheat, 
 trusting that time would winnow them apart. 
 
62 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 The chnrcli was located where two roads meet, and tlie 
 building had but one door, and four small windows, pro- 
 tected by solid plank shutters, but at this season left open 
 to admit the refreshing June breezes. On the occasion 
 that is referred to, nearly a hundred persons were in the 
 house, about thirty of whom were men, all with their 
 loaded rifles near at hand — on the floor at their feet, or 
 leaning against the rough benches on which they were 
 seated. Mrs. Hawkins and her three sons were present, 
 occupying benches near the raised platform on which stood 
 the rude pine table which served as the Parson's pulpit. 
 
 The Parson had gotten to about his forty -ninth " Ah ! " 
 when a yonng man dressed in gray, entered the house, and 
 coolly helped himself to a draught of water from a ])r\\ 
 that stood near the door-way. After thus quenching his 
 thirst, he turned to the Preacher, and said, *' Parson, I am 
 sorry to interrupt you ; but I have orders to take every 
 man here, who is subject to military duty, to Asheville. 
 If any refuse to go, I have men at hand to compel them." 
 
 For a moment all was confusion, but before the ser- 
 geant had ceased speaking, Mrs Hawkins had said to her 
 sons, *' Resist him, if you have to die for it." At once 
 Alexander sprang to his feet, rifle in hand, and said, " Who 
 are you ? " 
 
 '' An officer of the Government, with orders from Col- 
 onel Martin to see that you do your dut}^," said the ser- 
 geant. 
 
 "We decline to obey the order," replied Aleck. 
 ^'Neither Colonel Martin, nor any other man, has a right 
 to enforce such an order on the Sabbath, We shall resist 
 
THE CAPTURE OF ELLIS. 63 
 
 you. Let the women and children pass out — then take 
 us if you can." 
 
 The women and children had till this time kept their 
 seats, and either from stolidity, or the cool intrepidity 
 that seems inborn with these people, they had exhibited 
 very little excitement ; but the thirty or more men w^ere 
 now all upon their feet with their rifles in their hands. 
 The sergeant glanced around upon the bearded, resolute- 
 looking fellows, and then said, " You outnumber me 
 three to one, I shall not now attempt to enforce my or- 
 ders ; but I shall come again, and then, if 3-011 resist, you 
 wnll wish you hadn't." 
 
 " We'll not bandy words wn'th you," replied Aleck. 
 " Now go. I wall not answer for your lives, if you are 
 seen within five miles of this place in an hour's time." 
 
 Without reply the sergeant left the building, and in a 
 few moments the clatter of a dozen horses' feet was heard 
 receding rapidly along the highway leading to Marshall 
 and Asheville. The men in the church now resumed 
 their seats as if nothing had happened ; but after a brief 
 conference wnth his mother, and before the Parson re- 
 sumed the services, Aleck said to them, '' I think all of 
 you had better go directly to your homes, and arouse your 
 neighbors. This man will keep his word, and if there is 
 an additional force at Marshall, he wdll be upon us to-night. 
 My brother will ride over at once to notify Captain Ellis, 
 and the rest of you, with as many more as you can muster, 
 had better come to my mother's house by set of sun." 
 
 With less than his usual deliberation. Parson Justin 
 now closed the Sunday services, and then the congrega- 
 
64 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 tion dispersed to their homes — all but the youngest of 
 the Hawkins boys, who, mounted on the back of Sam, 
 was soon speeding down the road to the house of Reuben 
 Ellis. The only highway leading to it was the one taken 
 bj the conscript officers, so the boy moved forward cau- 
 tiously, his ears alert to the lightest sound that might 
 come up the road from the retreating Confederates. 
 They had all of twenty minutes the start of him, but such 
 was the fleetness of his horse that he had not ridden five 
 miles, when, in ascending a long hill, he heard their 
 measured tramp some distance in advance, and at the 
 top of the hill descried them, not half a mile away, and 
 turning into the by-path which led to tlie dwelling of 
 Reuben Ellis. 
 
 The whole truth flashed at once upon the boy. If 
 Ellis were at home, he would be inevitably captured. 
 This came to the lad's mind, and also the fact that he 
 could give him no warning. A dense forest, encumbered 
 with undergrowth, through which it was impossible for a 
 horse to penetrate, lined the upper side of the by-path, 
 while on the lower side stretched open fields, divided by 
 high fences, to the very verge of the mountain overlook- 
 ing the French Broad. By neither route could the boy 
 reach Ellis before the troop of horsemen, who were then 
 all of a half-mile in advance of him. 
 
 Halting for a few moments in a clump of trees, to let 
 the Confederates turn a bend in the path, and get out of 
 sight, he then pressed rapidly forward. Using the same 
 caution at a second bend, and again at a third, he came to 
 a fourth, where, for about half a mile, the path followed 
 
THE CAPTURE OF ELLIS. 65 
 
 an air-line to the dwelling. If he ventured upon this 
 open stretch of. pathway before the troop had left it, he 
 would be inevitably seen ; but impatient to get on, he 
 reined his horse directly into the forest, and there, leaving 
 him tethered among some undergrowth, he set off on a 
 rapid run through the woods and laurel bushes, reaching 
 a spot about a hundred rods in the rear of the house of 
 Ellis, just as the Confederates had gathered around the 
 entrance, and were preparing to batter down the door 
 with a stout sapling. 
 
 This indicated that Ellis was at home, had refused to 
 surrender, and w^as about to resist the conscript officers. 
 It was one against thirteen, and, fight as bravely as he 
 might, the chances against Ellis were desperate. The lad 
 had with him merely a revolver; had he brought his rifle 
 he might have given the troop a flank-fire ; as it w^as, he 
 could only look on, and see his friend either killed or 
 captured. 
 
 Soon he saw half a dozen of the troop bearing the sap- 
 ling, advance toward the house. When within about 
 twenty paces of the dwelling, they halted, and what 
 seemed to young Hawkins a brief parley, followed. Then 
 the men set forward again, and, an instant later, a shot 
 echoed among the hills, and a man loosened his hold of 
 the sapling, and fell to the ground wounded ; then another 
 shot followed and another man fell, and another, and 
 another, in rapid succession, till four of the troop lay 
 upon the ground writhing and cursing. 
 
 The Confederates then fell back a few paces, and Ellis 
 ceased firing ; but in a moment the sergeant eddied out to 
 9 
 
66 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 his men, '*He has exhausted his fire, come on now, all of 
 yon, before he has time to reload." The men sprang to 
 the improvised battering-ram, and rushed with it against 
 the door. Then the boy heard a crash, followed by a few 
 shouts and curses, and then bv a dead silence. No shot was 
 fired, so Ellis was doubtless not killed, but captured. 
 
 In a few moments young Hawkins observed two men 
 come out of the house, and appi'oach another who had 
 been left in charge of the horses. Then the three led the 
 animals up to the dsvelling, and as they approached it the 
 others bore Ellis out upon the lawn bound, and fol- 
 lowed by his wife, wringing her hands, and lamenting. 
 Then the men lifted Ellis upon one of the animals, and 
 secured him by a rope tied around his legs, and under 
 and over the body of the horse, and by a leathern strap 
 passed across the breast of a trooper who had mounted in 
 front of him. 
 
 While this was being done, others of the troop were at- 
 tending to the wounded. Three of them were able to sit 
 their horses, the other was evidently dead ; for his body 
 was simply strapped upon the back of a horse, which was 
 led by another of the soldiers. These proceedings occu- 
 pied perhaps twenty minutes, and then the boy saw the 
 troop move off, and Ellis turn, look back, and speak to 
 his wife, who was following him with agonizing cries 
 and gestures. 
 
 As the party passed into the path leading to the high- 
 way the lad was for a few moments shielded from their 
 observation, and he improved this time to dart to the 
 barn, from which, without being seen, he could reach the 
 
THE CAPTURE OF ELTJS. 67 
 
 liouse. Tliere lie sat down on a bench before the door. 
 
 and waited the return of Phebe who, with her little boy, 
 had followed on after the troop, to get a last look at her 
 husband. 
 
 Soon she re-appeared at the corner of the house; and 
 springing to his feet, the lad ran to her, saying, " Don't 
 grieve for Reuben, Phebe. He isn't dead; and we'll 
 have him back safe and sound by to-morrow morning. 
 Thar' 11 be a hundred men at our house by sundown ; and 
 we'll rescue Reuben, if we have to burn the whole of 
 Asheville." 
 
 " They won't take him to Asheville," said Phebe. " He 
 has right smart of friends thar, and they're afeard of a 
 rescue. I yered them say so." 
 
 " Well, no matter whar they take him, we'll have him, 
 sure,^^ answered the boy. " Now, let me tell you what to 
 do. I'll saddle your horse, and you get upon him with 
 the baby, and go straight to mother. I'll stay here till I 
 see which way the rascals go, and then, I'll follow with 
 Robby. I've got Sam in the woods close by. Mother'll 
 know what to do, for she has a head like a general. And 
 you tell her I had to skulk, or they'd have gobbled me 
 up — but I never wanted a rifle so much in my life." 
 
 The distressed woman dried her tears, and makino;- some 
 hasty preparations, was soon on the way to the dwelling 
 of Mrs. Hawkins. Young Hawkins then brought his 
 horse in from the woods, and soon afterward resumed his 
 seat in front of the house, whence he could overlook Mar- 
 shall, and a long stretch of the highway up and down 
 the French Broad river. 
 
6S A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 The distance by the road was only five miles, bnt en- 
 cumbered as they were with wounded, the troop of horse- 
 men moved slowly, and it was upward of an hour before 
 the boy saw them emei'ge from the mountain road at the 
 blacksmith's shop, and come to a halt before the hotel at 
 Marshall. There they left their dead and disabled com- 
 rades ; and when they resumed their route the lad ob- 
 served that only eight were in th^ party — one, doubtless, 
 having stayed behind to attend upon the wounded. 
 
 Notwithstanding what Phebe had said, the lad ex- 
 pected that Ellis would be taken to Asheville, that being 
 the Confederate head-quarters; he was therefore surprised 
 to see the troop turn squarely about at the hotel, and 
 come directly toward him along the river road, till they 
 reached the bridge which spans the French Broad at the 
 northern end of Marshall. This they crossed, and then, 
 at a rapid gallop, plunged into the ravine which there in- 
 dents the opposite mountain. 
 
 Springing to his feet as the troop passed out of sight, 
 the boy exclaimed, " Well, that is ahead of me ! I say, 
 Sam, whar are those fellows going?" 
 
 Sam looked up from his browsing on the grass, came 
 dh'ectly to his master, and gave a low whinny, but no 
 other answer to the question. If he had any opinion on 
 the subject, he was not far enough advanced in the English 
 language to give it expression. 
 
 The lad then locked the cottage door, lifted the little 
 boy. Hobby, upon his horse, and in a few moments was 
 fleeing like the wind down the path leading to the high- 
 road. As he reached the summit of the long hill from 
 
THE CAPTURE OF ELLIS. 69 
 
 which he had first seen the Confederates, he looked 
 toward his home, then about ^ve miles away, and there, 
 soaring high upon the air, he beheld a dense column of 
 smoke ; and then, casting his e,ye in other directions, he 
 saw answering columns, in all about a score, rising from 
 among the trees, as if the forests were on fire, every here 
 and there, for a range of twenty miles, along the northern 
 horizon. " Hurrah ! " shouted the boy, " Aleck will get 
 two hundred men together. It's not inore'n two o'clock, 
 and we'll be on the track of those fellows long before 
 sundown. Come, Sam, show your heels." 
 
 In not much more than half an hour the lad rode up 
 the steep path that led to his mother's dwelling. She 
 was seated before the door with Phebe by her side, and 
 near her on the lawn were gathered about thirty men, 
 ai-med with rifles and revolvers, and holding their horses 
 by the bridles. 
 
 'J'he boy had no sooner entered the gateway than Phebe 
 called out to him, " Which way did they go, Billy ? " 
 
 "Across the French Broad, and up the road along the 
 Little Pine," answered the lad, springing from his horse, 
 and helping the little boy to the ground. 
 
 The announcement was received with exclamations of 
 surprise from all in the assemblage except Mrs. Hawkins 
 and a man standins^ near her, who from his dress seemed 
 of a better class than the others. He was about thirty 
 years of age, somewhat above the medium height, and of 
 a slight, but erect and muscular frame. His face betok- 
 ened uncommon intelligence. He had a broad and open 
 forehead, a pi-oniinent nose, regular features, and gray 
 
70 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 eyes, large, deep, and penetrating. In manner he was 
 quiet and unassuming; but he had that air of intense 
 earnestness which indicates in its possessor a purpose 
 worthy of his powers. Though he was much slighter of 
 frame, he bore the resemblance to Henben Ellis that tells 
 of a common ancestry. They were, in fact, blood rela- 
 tions, but the kinship was so remote that neither of them 
 ever took the trouble to trace it. His home was in Carter 
 county, Tennessee, near the western foot of the Alle- 
 ghanies, and he had already become widely known as one 
 of the most uncompromising Union men in his State. 
 He had now crossed the mountains to lay in North Caro- 
 lina the lines of the " underground road," over which he 
 subsequently passed many thousands of escaped prisoners, 
 and loyal fugitives, to the Union lines. He was the 
 Daniel Ellis, whose exploits are familiar to every one at 
 all acquainted with the war in the South-west. 
 
 When the others had spoken, Mrs. Hawkins turning to 
 Ellis, said, " Please give us your opinion, Mr. Ellis." 
 
 " Let me ask you a question or two," he answered. 
 "Is there a road that way to Asheville? and what is the 
 feeling of the people beyond the French Broad? " 
 
 " A road branches off to Asheville at the Sandy Mush, 
 about ten miles back of Marshall," she replied. " The 
 people over there, I have heard, are generally in favor of 
 the Union; though there is a nest of Rebels in Swain 
 county, where they have a very strong jail called ' the 
 Black-Hole of Charleston.'" 
 
 "Then, madam, they have either gone that way to 
 Asheville," said Ellis, " or they are taking him to the 
 
THE CAPTURE OF ELLIS. 71 
 
 Black-Hole at Charleston. We can tell which at the 
 Sandy Mush crossing. Mv advice would be that the men 
 Di3w here set out at once, without waiting for any moi'e, 
 in order to be at the Sandy Mnsh before nightfall. I am 
 familiar with this kind of business, and I will go with 
 the men if you do not object — my principal purpose in 
 coming here w^as to meet Reuben." 
 
 " If you take command, Mr. Ellis," said Mrs. Hawkins, 
 " I feel sure Reuben will be rescued." 
 
 All the men expressed approval, and quickly bounded 
 into their saddles, and among the others the youngest son 
 of Mrs. Hawkins. Observing this his mother said to him, 
 *' I think you'd better not go Billy, Sam has traveled fifteen 
 miles to-day, and will break down." 
 
 "No, he won't, mother," answered the boy. "He's 
 good for another hundred miles, and I wouldn't be left 
 behind for all of Madison county." 
 
A MOUNTAIN- VVBirE HEKuKXE. 
 
 chaptp:r IV. 
 
 THE RESCUE OF ELLIS. 
 
 On crossing the bridge at Marshall, the rescuing party 
 found the trail of the eight horsemen deeply imprinted in 
 the sand along the river bank. This trail they followed 
 through a dense forest, and up a steep and stony road, 
 for a distance of about three miles, when they came to 
 Little Pine creek, where they halted to allow their horses 
 a draught of the clear, ice-cold mountain water. Resum- 
 ing then their way they followed the road along the Little 
 Pine till they reached its source on the summit of the 
 mountain, near an abandoned dwelling. Here all trace 
 of a highway disappeared, and nothing was to be seen 
 except an open field, now lying waste, but showing 
 signs of recent cultivation. But right across that open 
 field, and down the long incline which there slopes 
 gently to the Sandy Mush, were the tracks of the eight 
 horsemen. 
 
 Encouraged by these fresh signs, the party pressed 
 rapidly on down the mountain, and fully three hours be- 
 fore sunset, came to the Sandy Mush, the tracks of the 
 eight horsemen still before them, but headed direct for 
 Asheville. They pressed on again, fearful that the prey 
 had escaped them, but determined to follow to the very 
 jail of Buncombe county, if their way should not be bar- 
 red by greatly superior numbers. iVnother two miles 
 
THE RESCUE OF ELLIS. 73 
 
 brought them to Turkey creek, a branch of the Sandy 
 Mush, and flowing into it not far from the French Broad, 
 and here, to their inexpressible reHef, they saw that the 
 horsemen had left the high road, and taken up a narrow 
 path along the creek, and over the Turkey Mountain. 
 
 One of the party had been that way on a hunting ex- 
 cursion, and he thought that at the distance of about ten 
 miles tliey would strike the Waynes ville road, near the 
 bridge over " Forks of Pigeon " and about fifteen miles 
 from Asheville. To avoid intelligence of their move- 
 ments reaching the Confederate head-quarters, it was de- 
 sirable that they should not reach the high-road before 
 dark, but they pushed on as rapidly as the rugged nature 
 of the ground would permit, and not far from " an hour 
 by sun " had crossed the aforesaid bridge at the distance 
 of about three miles west of the hamlet of Hominy. 
 
 Until this time the tracks of the horsemen had been 
 plainly before them, but now, blended as they were with 
 the many foot-prints of the highway, they were no longer 
 a safe guide to follow. The troop had halted at the 
 west end of the bridge, when " Billy-Boy," who, be- 
 cause it was impossible for him, or his horse, to keep still, 
 had ridden about half a mile up the road, came thunder- 
 ing back, saying, " Thar's an old fellow camped out up 
 thar in the trees, who I reckon can tell us all we want to 
 know. I didn't question him for fear I should make a 
 blunder." 
 
 Leaving the body of mountaineers at the bridge, Ellis 
 and Aleck Hawkins rode forward with the boy, and soon 
 came upon a company of travelers who had gone into 
 10 
 
74 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 camp in a grove by the roadside. There were nine in 
 the party, all in the lowest stage of forlornness. The 
 father of the family had unkempt gray hair, a deeply- 
 wrinkled face, and appeared to be nearly severity years 
 of age. His only clothing was a battered hat, a coarse, 
 soiled shirt, and a pair of trousers so covered with 
 patches as to have lost all vestige of the original fabric. 
 Two young men, evidently his sons, were even more 
 ragged than he, and in addition were bare-footed and with 
 legs naked half-way to the knees. The wife, who w^as 
 all of twenty years younger than the husband, had no 
 other clothing than a cotton sun-bonnet, and a greasy 
 linsey gown. A full-grown daughter was attired in a 
 similar manner. The other children were also bare-footed, 
 and even more ragged than their brothers, and their only 
 head-covering was a mass of tangled, yellowish hair. All 
 had stolid faces, and a woe-begone, spiritless look, which 
 betokened no aspiration in life beyond the mere satisfac- 
 tion of the animal appetites. A bundle of tattered 
 blankets lay near them on the grass, and scattered about 
 were an iron kettle, a dilapidated coffee-pot, a half-con- 
 sumed ham, and a bag of corn-meal. In the hollow of a 
 tree the eldest daughter was building a fire, with the 
 evident intention of preparing their supper, and for this 
 repast the remainder of the family were idly waiting, 
 seated, or stretched at full length, upon the ground. 
 
 As Ellis halted before these "low down" people the 
 old man rose to his feet, and saluted him with the usual 
 " How d'ye." To this Ellis civilly responded, adding, 
 " Where are you traveling ? " 
 
THE RESCUE OF ELLIS. 75 
 
 " We iins is from ahind uv Aslieville, an' bound fnr the 
 Smokies. Reckon we kin light on a few acres thar as 
 doau't b'long ter nobody." 
 
 " But it's a poor country — why do you leave a better 
 region ? " 
 
 '' Ter git rid uv this cussed war — but I reckon hit has 
 got thar afore us, fur tliey toted a pore feller along 
 yere not more'n two hours agone, bound hand and foot. 
 He'd tried ter dodge the conscription." 
 
 ' ' I reckon the only way to dodge it is to get tlirougli 
 to the Union lines," said Ellis, *' so you'd better have staid 
 where you were, unless you have fj-iends in this section." 
 
 " AVe uns hain't no friends, nowhar — doan't know no- 
 body, 'cept hit moiit be Squire Barnet, cz keeps bait 
 fer man and beast ter Wavnesville. Reckon he'll d'rect 
 we uns whar tergwo, fur he'm a right decent man." 
 
 "What is Barnet' s full name?" asked Elhs. 
 
 " Jeems — from t'other side uv the Unakas — over ter 
 Tennessee." 
 
 Then, with a kindly "good evening" to the old man, 
 Ellis and his two companions rode slowly up the road. 
 When out of hearing of the corn-cracker, Ellis said to 
 Aleck Hawkins, " I knew Barnet fifteen years ago, and I 
 am greatly mistaken if he is not a loyal man. I think we 
 had better talk with him ; and I would suggest that your 
 brother should ride back, and tell the men to follow us 
 slowly, and on no account to enter Waynesville till they 
 hear from us." 
 
 Ellis and Aleck Hawkins rode forward at a brisk pace, 
 and at the distance of about seven miles, entered the 
 
76 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 town of Wayiiesville. The town is now a summer le- 
 sort of considerable celebrity, having two broad parallel 
 streets, lined with brick or newlj-painted wooden dwell- 
 ings, and an imposing brick court-house. At this period, 
 however, it was unknown to fame, and consisted almost 
 entirely of a dilapidated temple of justice, with dingy 
 walls, a tan- bark floor, and battered windows ; together 
 with a half dozen log and frame rookeries, and the two- 
 storied public house kept by James Barnet. Such ex- 
 treme caution would seem to have been unnecessary in 
 approaching a place of so little importance, but Ellis 
 knew it to be court-week, and expected to find the town 
 crowded with a thousand people, the most of the men 
 carrying arms, after the universal custom of the 
 country. 
 
 The sun had been down nearly an hour, and after the 
 short twilight of this mountain region, the night had 
 come on without moon or star, and in deep darkness ; 
 but as they entered the town a blaze of light shone from 
 two rows of canvas-covered wagons that lined the sides 
 of the grass-grown street, and the hotel was illuminated 
 at nearly every one of its windows. Ellis wedged his 
 way, with young Hawkins, through the throng about the 
 hotel, into the hall of the building, and then asked a ser- 
 vant to bring to him the landlord. A middle-aged, re- 
 spectable person soon appeared, and Ellis inquired of him 
 for lodgings for himself and friend. " It's an impossible 
 thing. Sir," replied Mr. Barnet. " My house is full to 
 overflowing." Then, as a sudden gleam lit up his face, 
 he added, extending his hand, "Why, How d'ye! I 
 
THE RESCUE OF ELLIS. 77 
 
 didn't at fii'st know yon. My house is full, but I'll stow 
 3'on two away if I have to give up my own bedroom. 
 Step this way, if you please;" and he led the way to a 
 room in a remote part of the house, leaving the crowd of 
 bystandei'S to wonder who the strangers were to whom 
 he was showing such unusual attention. 
 
 Wlien they had entered his apartment, and he had 
 carefully closed the door, he turned to Ellis, saying, 
 " Daniel Ellis, this is foolhardy. If you were known to 
 be here, you'd be strung to a tree in half an hour." 
 
 '^Then you know me?" said Ellis, in a quiet tone. 
 
 " I do, though you couldn't have been more than fif- 
 teen when I left Carter county. Is this gentleman from 
 Tennessee ? " 
 
 "No! said Ellis, "He is a son of Mrs. Hawkins of 
 Madison county." 
 
 " Indeed ! " exclaimed Mr. Barnet, " I've heard of Mrs. 
 Hawkins. I am proud to have you under my roof, Sir. 
 And I'm proud, too, to have you, Daniel, for I've heard 
 all about your doings." 
 
 " Then you are a loyal man," said Elhs, " I felt sure 
 that you were." 
 
 "I am a loyal man; but I have to use policy, particu- 
 larly with such a crowd as is here to-night. All the 
 Charleston roughs are in town, and will be as long as 
 Court is in session." 
 
 "That suits us exactly," said Elhs. "Are there many 
 loyal men around here?" 
 
 "A good many lying out in the woods. I wish you 
 could get them through the lines." 
 
78 A MOD NTAIN- WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 "I can and will. They've only to report to me or 
 Treadaway at Elizabethton.'' 
 
 Ellis then disclosed to Mr. Barnet the object of his 
 visit, and the latter informed him. that the men who had 
 captured Reuben Ellis had stopped at liis house for supper, 
 and were convevins^ him to the Black-Hole at Charleston, 
 where it was expected he would be tried, and executed 
 on the following day. He had no chance for mercy, for 
 he had killed a soldier who was doing his duty. He 
 furthermore told him that it would be nothing short of 
 madness for the squad of thirty horsemen to attempt to 
 pass through Waynesville. They might get through with- 
 out opposition, but they would be seen, their errand sus- 
 pected, and the entire country raised about their ears 
 before they got to Charleston. The only safe course was 
 to pass around the place. There was no road, but he had 
 a trusty negro whom he would send to guide them 
 through the woods, and open-fields, to a point where they 
 could again take the highway. 
 
 The negro having been brought into the room, that he 
 might know Mr. Ellis, the landlord accompanied his 
 guests to the front-entrance, where, as he parted from 
 them, he said in a tone loud enough to be heard by the 
 bystanders, "I am very sorrj I can't give you lodgings 
 for the night, Mr. Jones ; but you will be sure of good 
 quarters at the Squire's — remember it is the third house 
 on the right, beyond the village." Then remounting 
 their horses, the two rode leisurely do\vn the road to the 
 encampment of the mountaineers. 
 
THE RESCUE OF ELLIS. 79 
 
 The moon was casting a dim liglit over tlie dense forest 
 that lined the highway, when the old negro halted in the 
 road about half a mile east of the village, and uttering a 
 faint whistle, said, *' Am yon dar, Massa Jones?" 
 
 ^' We are here," was the response, as Ellis and " Billy- 
 Boy " emerged upon their horses from among the trees. 
 " You are late — has any thing happened ? " 
 
 "Nufiin', Massa, only Zeke had to see Squar Plotts, 
 an' him wasn't ter home. You uns neber'd git fru 
 widout him." 
 
 " Why not without him ? " inquired Ellis. 
 
 " Case he'll hab ter show you uns ; fur de road am nigh 
 all the way frn him grounds." 
 
 " Can he be trusted ? " 
 
 " Trusted, Massa ! Why, nigh on fifty year ago he buy 
 Zeke, and guv him his freedom, wlien Zeke he was so 
 sick an' nigh ter death, dat he wouldn't fotch more'n two 
 hundred dollar; and all dat time Massa Plotts hab led 
 de class in de meetin I " 
 
 *' All the saints and class-leaders are not loval men," 
 said Ellis, " but, Uncle, I'll trust you ; I'd stake my life 
 on you twice a week. Kow, which way do we go — this 
 or the other side of the road ? " 
 
 *' Dis side, Massa — de Squar lib 'bout half a mile back." 
 
 '' Then it's the house near where the men are en- 
 camped. Jump up behind me, Uncle, and we'll be there 
 in a few minutes." 
 
 The mountaineers were in readiness, and moving slowlv 
 through the forest, they soon came to a halt in a woods 
 about a hundred rods in the rear of a two-storied log 
 
80 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 dwelling standing in the midst of a treeless clearing. 
 Here, the black, putting his hand to his mouth, gave a 
 peculiar whistle, and instantly a horseman emerged from 
 the shadow of the house, and rode toward them. As 
 he came near, Ellis saw by the dim moonlight that he 
 wore a long white beard, was much bent with age, and 
 dressed in the usual homespun, with a slouched hat of 
 expansive dimensions. He was the first to speak. When 
 well within the shadow of the trees he said to Aleck 
 Hawkins, who sat his horse by the side of Ellis, " I'm 
 proud to meet ye, Mr. Hawkins. I know'd yer father. 
 We didn't think exactly alike, but he war a right good 
 man, and he gave me much edification." 
 
 '* I am glad to meet any one who thought well of my 
 father," answered young Hawkins, " and the more glad 
 to meet you. Sir, if you get us around this difiiculty." 
 
 ^' I shall be pleased to do it. Sir," replied the old man, 
 " and it's easy done. All ye hev ter do is ter obsarve a 
 dead silence while we is passin' near the house'n. But 
 yer are on a desperate tramp ; and if thar was ary other 
 way to save Reuben Ellis, I'd advise ye ter turn round, 
 and git back ter yer homes as soon as ye kin." 
 
 "There is no other way. Sir," said young Hawkins, 
 "and Reuben's life is worth more than any of ours, except 
 this gentleman's, Mr. Jones." 
 
 " Yes," responded the old man, reaching out his hand, 
 and grasping that of Ellis, " Zekiel telled me ye had done 
 a heap for the Union, over thar ter Tennessee. Ye mout 
 know him they call Dan Ellis." 
 
 "Oh, yes! I know him," said Ellis. "I slept under 
 the same tree with him not more than a week ago." 
 
THE RESCUE OF ELLIS. 81 
 
 "Well, he's a true man. I hope he'll be preserved to 
 do much for his ken try. I would loike ter take him by 
 the hand, and tell him what I think of him. But come, 
 we'd better be movin'." 
 
 In single file, and profound silence, the troop then 
 threaded its way through the dense forest, and the fence- 
 less corn-fields, till at the close of about an hour they 
 struck the highway at a point something more than four 
 miles west of Waynesville. There the old man halted 
 his horse at the margin of the road, and said to Ellis, 
 " Kow the way is elar' afore ye, hit's a long thirty mile, 
 but with sech critters as yours ye ought ter make it in 
 good time. I've never been inside the prison ; but ye 
 know its reckoned the strongest in Car'lina. Ye'll need 
 ter know the lay uv the land fore ye attempt ter break 
 inter it, and I'm thinkin' ye'd better stop ter th' first 
 white house out uv Charleston, — the only painted one 
 round thar — and tell yer business to Squar Staley ; ye 
 kin depend on him. I'd gwo on with ye myself, but I 
 can't very well stand this night ridin'. I fit all through 
 the Mexican war, but now I'm too old to be uv ary more 
 sarvice ter my kintry." 
 
 "You're not too old to be of great service to us, Mr. 
 Plotts," said Ellis. " You are a true man, Sir, and seeing 
 that you think well of me, I'll tell you that I am Dan 
 Ellis.^" 
 
 "Dan Ellis!'' echoed the old man, reining his horse 
 nearer to that of Ellis, and scanning his features as closely 
 as he could in the dim moonlight. "Can it be possible? 
 11 
 
82 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 If I'd obsarved je afore, I'd a knowed ye was no comraou 
 man. It does me proud ter hev sarved ye, Mr. Ellis, and 
 I'll sarve ye more — I'll gwo along with ye, and we'll Lev 
 Reuben Ellis out, or die a trvin'." 
 
 No remonstrance availing to' turn the old man from 
 tliis purpose, the party set out on a rapid gallop with him, 
 Ellis and Aleck Hawkins as a vanguard. They passed 
 the town of Webster, and several farm dwellings on the 
 way, but encountered not a single human being till, at 
 about four o'clock in the morning, they drew rein in the 
 court-yard of Squire Staley, on the outskirts of Charles- 
 ton. Before the troop had all come up the advance- 
 guard were seated in the ^'best-room" of that gentleman, 
 discussing with him the situation. 
 
 The jail, Mr. Stalej^ said, was on the lower floor of the 
 old court-house. The "Black-Hole," where Reuben Ellis 
 was confined, was a log-room built within another log- 
 room, the space between the two being filled with large 
 stones. It could be entered only by a ladder from a 
 trap-door in the floor above, and had no other light than 
 that which could filter itself through the two log walls, 
 the stone filling-in, and -the deca3'ed outside weather- 
 boarding. The trap-door was secured by a padlock, the 
 key of which was kept by the jailer — a morose, ferocious 
 fellow, who lived alone in the jail, and seldom left it by 
 da}^ or by night. His apartments adjoined the " Black- 
 Hole," and in his sleeping-room was a narrow iron-barred 
 opening communicating with it, through which he could 
 watch a prisoner. The only way to rescue Ellis was to 
 secure the jailer, and get the key of the padlock from 
 
THE RESCUE OF ELLIS. 83 
 
 him, and tins would have to be done without noise, for 
 the least disturbance niight alarm tlie eight soldiers, who 
 slept not two hundred feet away, and also arouse the 
 whole town. The jailer was always well-armed, and, to 
 avoid bloodshed, must be taken unawares ; but Mr. Staley 
 thought he slept with his door unlocked, as did every 
 one else in the vicinity. However, he would himself go 
 along to ascertain that fact, and if it should not be so, 
 some pretext must be invented to draw the jailer to the 
 door, when they could seize and gag him without diffi- 
 culty. A trusty Indian, named Hocus, who lived with 
 Mr. Staley, might help them in this emergency ; but the 
 aifair must be managed so as not to implicate the Indian 
 in it, or it might cost him his life. 
 
 At this point Mr. Staley left tlie room, and soon re- 
 turned with the Indian, Hocus. He was a full-blooded 
 Cherokee, born and reared among these mountains, which 
 had been the home of his nation for untold centuries. 
 He wore the ordinary homespun of the district, cut in the 
 usual fashion, and there was nothing peculiar about him 
 except his moccasins, and an eye of striking keenness and 
 brilliancy. He listened attentively to Mr. Staley's state- 
 ment of what might be required of him, and then said, 
 " The door will not be locked ; I will guide the gentle- 
 men to where he sleeps — the rest they'll have to be 
 quick about, or he'll kill some of them." 
 
 As they moved slowly along the one street of the town, 
 at whose farther end stood the old court-house, Ellis and 
 Alexander Hawkins arranged the details of the enter- 
 prise. They and four of the coolest and most powerful 
 
84 A MOUNTAIN- WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 of the men, were to enter the building guided bj tlie 
 Cherokee; twelve of the others were to surround the 
 house where the soldiers were lodged, and the remainder 
 of the troop, dismounted, wer^ to station themselves in 
 front of the jail, ready for whatever emergency might 
 arise. Mr. Staley and Mr. Plotts were to be inactive 
 spectators, from some point where they would not, if 
 seen, be suspected of complicity in the rescue. When 
 all was in readiness, it lacked less than an hour of day- 
 break. 
 
 The Cherokee found the outer door unlocked, and, 
 noiselessly entering the building, he soon returned, say- 
 ing to Ellis, ^Tve left his door open. He is asleep, a 
 light burning. Take off your boots, and be quick about 
 the business." 
 
 The Indian guided them to the jailer's door, and noise- 
 lessly the six men entered a room about twelve feet 
 square, which by the dim light of a lantern standing upon 
 the hearth, they saw was somewhat the filthiest apart- 
 ment ever tenanted by a human being. The floor w^as 
 littered over with broken bottles, worn-out saddles, bits 
 of harness, and a dilapidated rocking-chair. On the wall 
 w^as an array of shackles, in one corner a huge packing- 
 box, made to do duty as a desk, and in the other, a low, 
 tattered bed, the bedstead manufactured from old joist 
 and clapboards, which had been torn from some disman- 
 tled dwelling. Keclining on one end of this bed was a 
 pair of huge boots, on the other an enormous beard, sur- 
 mounted by heavy black brows, beneath which were a 
 pair of closed eyes. In the duskiness of the room the 
 
THE RESCUE OF ELLIS. 85 
 
 O 
 
 man's other features could not be distinguished. He lay 
 absolutely motionless, and was evidently sleeping soundly. 
 
 Taking all this in at a glance, Ellis looked at young 
 Hawkins, put one hand upon his mouth, and with the 
 other pointed to the iron bracelets ; and then, before the 
 jailer was fully awake, he was securely gagged, and bound 
 hand and foot with his own manacles. All this was done 
 without a word being spoken. Then young Hawkins 
 thrust his hand into the prostrate man's pocket, and drew 
 out three keys, one large and two smaller ones, and hold- 
 ing them up to Ellis, exclaimed, " Here they are ! The 
 Lord be thanked. We'll have Reuben free in five min- 
 utes." As he said this a voice from behind the iron 
 grating, over the packing-box, asked, " Is that 3^ou, 
 Aleck?" 
 
 " It is, Reuben," he answered ; "and in my hand are 
 the keys of your shackles, and the dungeon." 
 
 All now left the jailer's room, Ellis carefully locking 
 the door, and taking the key with him ; and it was not 
 many minutes before Reuben Ellis was at liberty. 
 
86 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 It wanted still half an hour of daybreak wlien the 
 troop ]3assed qnietly down the village street, and came to 
 a halt in a clump of trees near the dwelling of Squire 
 Staley. As they did so, the Squire and Mr. Plotts ap- 
 proached Reuben Ellis, where he sat astride of Sam, be- 
 hind the younger Hawkins. The former said to him, "I 
 congratulate you upon yom' escape, Mr. Ellis ; but you 
 are not yet out of danger. It won't do to return by the 
 way of Waynesville. My advice would be that you take 
 the road up the Oconolufta, and through the Cherokee 
 country. Hocus here, can guide you as far as the Big 
 Pigeon." 
 
 Ellis thanked him for the suggestion, and then Mr. 
 Plotts remarked, " Ye'll need a horse, Mr. Ellis ; take 
 mine, he's a good roadster. If ye kin send him back, 
 very well ; if ye can't, count him as so much good- will I 
 bear ter ye." 
 
 " But how will you get home, Sir ? " asked Reuben. 
 " They tell me you live at Waynesville." 
 
 "Oh, ril loan him a nag," said Mr. Staley. "But 
 we are wasting time. You ought to be on the Ocono- 
 lufta before any are passing on this road. Here, Hocus, 
 jump on my horse, and guide these folks tlirough your 
 country." 
 
THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS. 87 
 
 Hurried farewells were then spoken, and then the 
 horsemen set off at a brisk gallop down the road to 
 Waynesville, until they came opposite the point where 
 the Oconolufta joins tlie Tuckasege. There in Indian 
 file, each horseman treading as nearly as possible in the 
 tracks of the one preceding him — they forded the Tucka- 
 sege, and striking a north-east course entered, at the dis- 
 tance of a few miles, the wooded ravine bordered by 
 steep mountain ranges, a mile or more in height, through 
 which flows the picturesque Oconolufta. 
 
 They were now in a magnificent region of mighty 
 woods, majestic mountains, and noisy cascades, which 
 leap over precipitous cliffs, and rush in sheeted foam 
 down steep declivities. Here and there a grassy cove 
 indents the side of the ravine, or a quiet, tree-sprinkled 
 valley, where the mountains had receded farther from 
 the river, and left some luxuriant nook to be one day the 
 abode of man. As yet, however, no human habitation 
 can be found in all the forest-covered region, and a 
 stillness unbroken save by the noisy rush of the river, the 
 startled cry of some bird, or the occasional bleat of a 
 deer, or growl of a bear, reigns over all the leafy soli- 
 tude. The air was fresh and exhilarating, the sky 
 cloudless and serene, and the men journeyed on with 
 light hearts, elated with the successful issue of their en- 
 terprise, and careless of any danger that might be await- 
 ing them. 
 
 The sun had been up for an hour when the cavalcade 
 entered this secluded thoroughfare, but it was a longer 
 time before its slant beams penetrated to the recesses of 
 
88 A MOUNTAIN- WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 the ravine, and dissipated the keen chill that always loads 
 the early morning air in these high mountain altitudes. 
 Then the tired men went into camp to rest from their 
 fatigue, and to refresh their . jaded animals, which now 
 had been upon the march for upward of eighty miles, 
 with only the brief halting-time they had caught at 
 Waynes vnlle and Charleston. 
 
 On first entering the ravine the men had shot a couple 
 of deer without so much as leaving their saddles, and 
 from these, and the parched corn-meal which each one 
 carried at his saddle-bow, they soon prepared a bountiful 
 breakfast. This partaken of, they stretched themselves 
 upon the thick green grass, on which their animals were 
 browsing, and sank into a slumber that lasted till long 
 after midday. This was true of every one of the troop 
 except the three leaders, and two of the men, who had 
 been sent up and down the road to give warning of the 
 approach of any hostile part}^ 
 
 But the approach of an enemy was not anticipated. 
 The presence of the mountaineers was doubtless still 
 unknown at Waynesville, and their entrance and departure 
 from Charleston had probably not been seen or heard by 
 one of its inhabitants ; and such were the hermit-like 
 habits of the jailer, as reported by the Cherokee, Hocus, 
 that they concluded the fellow might pass a day or two 
 in fasting and seclusion before his non-appearance among 
 his neighbors would be remarked upon. The danger to 
 the troop they imagined to be from altogether another 
 quarter, — from some strong party of Confederates who 
 might be even then lying in wait for their return at the 
 
THROtJGH THE MOUNTAINS. 89 
 
 crossing of the French Broad at Marshall. This con- 
 tingency they decided to avoid by a flank march down 
 the Big Pigeon, and across the Newfound Mountains to 
 Warm Springs, and thence east to their homes in Madison 
 county. 
 
 It was some hours after noon when the tired moun- 
 taineers aroused themselves from sleep, prepared a hasty 
 meal, and resumed their journey. Their way was still 
 along the picturesque Oconolufta, the road following the 
 windings of the stream, and in places wedged so closely 
 between the river and the overhanging cliffs as to scarcely 
 allow of the passage of a wheeled vehicle. At the dis- 
 tance of about ten miles from the mouth of the river, 
 they came suddenly upon a broad, open valley in which 
 were evidences of civilization in log farm-houses, fruit 
 orchards, patches of corn, and small herds of the diminu- 
 tive horse that is styled the *' Indian pony." They had 
 entered the Cherokee country — a tract of about fifty 
 thousand acres — all that is left of an immense domain 
 w^hich once comprised nearly the whole of the present 
 States of Tennessee and Kentucky. About one thousand 
 of the tribe are settled here, the original home of their 
 nation. Their fields seemed worn out by injudicious 
 farming ; but the general aspect of the country was quite 
 equal to that of the districts occupied by the whites, and 
 the people seen along the road appeared to be as far 
 advanced in civilization. They were dressed in a similar 
 manner, and, except by their moccasins and darker com- 
 plexions, could not have been distinguished from their 
 12 
 
90 A MOUNTAIN- WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 Anglo-Saxon neighbors. They were in fact better edu- 
 cated than the whites, for they had free-schools, supported 
 by the nation. 
 
 The road the mountaineers- were pursuing runs nearly 
 parallel to the Waynesville highway till, about three 
 miles from that town, it strikes the valley of the Big- 
 Pigeon, where it joins the old stage road which, follow- 
 ing the windings of the river, goes on to Knoxville. The 
 troop had journeyed slowly, to further recruit their jaded 
 horses, and it was after dark w^ien they reached the junc- 
 tion of the two roads, and looked down upon the tow^n of 
 Waynesville. As they did so they observed, at a short 
 distance away, a bright fire blazing among the trees. 
 
 The light revealed the long canvas-covered wagon 
 peculiar to the region, and a party of campers-out, seated 
 on the ground, and partaking of their supper. As the 
 troop came nearer, Reuben counted five in the company — 
 a middle-aged man and woman, and three young men, 
 the oldest about twenty, all decently clad, and of the 
 better class of mountain people. He recognized them at 
 once as a family that had lived about a dozen miles from 
 his home, on the upper waters of Flat Creek, in Buncombe 
 county, and approaching them with Dan Ellis he accosted 
 the older man of the party. " Is that you, Mr. Bobbins ? " 
 he said ; '^ moving to 3'our farm on the Pigeon ? " 
 
 The man looked up, then sprang to his feet, exclaim- 
 ing, '' Beuben Ellis ! What'r ye doin' yere ? Why, 
 doan't ye know they is scourin' the hull kentry for ye — 
 more'n fifty on 'em, armed ter the teeth, an' detarmined 
 ter shoot ye down the minit they set eyes on ye ? " 
 
THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS. 91 
 
 " I didn't know it," answered Heubeii. " How do you 
 know it ? " 
 
 '^ Wliy, ye see, we uns camped out last night ter 
 Wajnesville, and just as we was settin' off for the Pigeon 
 about ten this morning, tlie sodgers as took ye come 
 thunderin' inter the town, sayin' as half a dozen men had 
 broke inter the jail over night, clapped the padlocks on 
 ter the jailer, and toted ye off scot-free. There was a 
 great rumpus ter onc't, an' in a maziu' quick time, a big 
 squad got together ter the hotel, all armed and mounted, 
 an' most uv 'em the ugliest-lookin' chaps ye ever seed, 
 from round Charleston. I took an intrist in hit, 'case, 
 Reuben, I allers took ter ye, so, I hung round ter see the 
 end on hit. They 'eluded thar war'nt only six or eight 
 on ye, and ye had took some of the by-roads — most 
 likely the one along the Oconolufta — but they'd scour 
 'em all So, they goed off in four squads, and I staid by 
 till the last corned back. Then I felt glad ter know they 
 hadn't kotched ye. The squad as come up the road ye is 
 on, said they rid as fur as the Injun town, Yaller Hill, 
 and never come away till two o'clock ; but nobody had 
 seed hide or hair uv ye." 
 
 " Well," said Reuben, " if they had gone about two 
 miles further along this road, they would have found us, 
 camped out to rest our horses. It was lucky they didn't, 
 for not one of them would have got away to tell the 
 story. What next do they mean to do ? " 
 
 *'They was discussin' that when we uns corned away. 
 The most uv 'em reckon ye're tuck ter the mountings, 
 and ar' makin' yer way ter Tennessee; so, they count 
 
92 A MOUNTAIN- WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 liit'll be time lost to scour the woods, and they'd better 
 tuck all thar men, and make a stret line down the Big 
 Pigeon, to head ye off on t'other side of the Smokies. I 
 reckon they'll do that, and I've been lucking ter see 'em 
 gwo by every minit since we camped out yere. If ye 
 doan't want ter fight, I'd advise ye ter put right down 
 the road, and tuck the first crossin' over the mountings 
 ter the French Broad. One thing ar sartain — they won't 
 luck for ye in Madison county — they'll reckon ye won't 
 dar' ter gwo thar. My boys wud gwo along ter holp ye 
 in case ye has a fight ; but ye see we uns hain't nary 
 critters but one horse an' a mule. But we're on your 
 side, Keuben. We is movin' ter Pigeon ter be nigher 
 the woods in case the conscript crowd come fur the 
 boys." 
 
 There was wisdom in the old man's advice, and the 
 troop acted upon it, setting off at once at a rapid pace 
 down the road they had intended to travel, the three 
 leaders keeping about a fourth of a mile in the rear, to 
 be the first to hear the approach of the expected body of 
 horsemen. 
 
 They passed numerous dwellings — for they were in a 
 thickly-settled farming region — but encountered no way- 
 farers, except such as were passing from one house to 
 another. Continuing their rapid pace till about an hour 
 before midnight, they came to Fine's Creek, along which 
 a bridle-path leads up and over the Sandy Mush Moun- 
 tain, to the high-road on which they had, in coming out, 
 followed the soldiers. The head of the cavalcade had 
 turned into the bridle-path when "Billy-Boy," who rode 
 
THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS. 93 
 
 with the advance, came racing back to the three leaders, 
 saying, " Thar's at least twenty men with torches stand- 
 ing around a house on the shelf of the mountain, about 
 a quarter of a mile from the road. I've halted the troop 
 till you could come up." 
 
 In a very few minutes the leaders were with the ad- 
 vance at the foot of the bridle-path, inspecting the sus- 
 picious gathering. While they did so the torches dis- 
 appeared, and a blaze of light streamed down from the 
 open door and windows of the dwelhng. " Why, Billy- 
 Boy," said Reuben, " it's only a ^ surprise shindy.' There's 
 no danger in that ; besides, all these folks are friendly 
 to me. So, lead the men up the path. I'll go to the 
 house and see these people." 
 
 The young folks of the neighborhood had descended 
 unawares upon a neighbor to have a midnight dance at 
 his dwelling. When Ellis arrived at the door he saw, by 
 the light of the pine-knots that were blazing on the 
 hearth, some twenty young men and women, all dressed 
 in their best garments, clearing a room of about twenty- 
 five feet square, in preparation for a " shindy," while the 
 master and mistress, just aroused from sleep, were finish- 
 ing their toilets in a corner. Two of the young fellows 
 w-ere already seated before the fire, tuning a home-made 
 ])anjo, and an old violin, when, removing his hat, Ellis 
 stepped into the apartment. 
 
 For some minutes there was much the same sensation 
 as if a ghost had appeared among them ; but when they 
 realized that Ellis was actually flesh and blood, their joy 
 knew no bounds — the women throwing their arms about 
 
94 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 liis neck, the men seizing him by the hand, or arm, or 
 any part of the person that could be shaken. They had 
 lieard he had been captured and hanged, and he was to 
 them as one risen from the. dead. " Well," he said to 
 them, as soon as the young women allowed him the use 
 of his organs of speech — " it's rather pleasant to come 
 near hanging, for in that way a man finds out he has 
 some friends. Now^, good folks, let me say that it is too 
 dark to cross the mountain, and I and my friends propose 
 to camp out on the bench above this. We suppose we 
 are followed by a party from Waynesville, and I want 
 you to know nothing about us, if they happen to inquire 
 when they go by on the road. " 
 
 This all promised, and then Ellis joined tlie troop, which 
 soon afterward went into camp, on a shelf of the mountain 
 covered with trees, about a quarter of a mile in the rear of 
 the dwelling. The men ate their suppers without their 
 accustomed bowl of coffee, no fire being built lest it should 
 betray the encampment. This done, they stretched them- 
 selves upon the ground, and were soon in deep slumber. 
 
 Meanwhile, the leaders held a consultation. The ques- 
 tion was, what course to pursue in case the Charleston 
 roughs should pass along the road ? Should they be 
 attacked, or allowed to go by unmolested ? Daniel Ellis 
 was in favor of attack — he never allowed a Confederate 
 to come within reach of his carbine without giving him 
 some of its contents. Keuben Ellis evidently sympathized 
 with this feeling ; but he merely said it would be against 
 the wishes of Mrs. Hawkins. She thought it wrong to 
 take human life except in self-defense. 
 
THKOUGH THE MOUNTAINS. 95 
 
 " We will respect her wishes," rephecl Dan Ellis. 
 " But hark ! there they are — several miles up the river." 
 
 Faint it was that distant tread, but measured and musi- 
 cal as the beat of a morning drum heard across leagues of 
 silence. There was no mistaking it — nothing in the 
 forest could create such sounds save only the tramp of a 
 body of horsemen. After listening a few moments, 
 Daniel Ellis said to Aleck, '' Would it not be well to 
 rouse the men and have them ready ? If you will stay 
 by them, Reuben and I will go down as far as the house 
 to reconnoitre." 
 
 As the two reached the corner of the dwelling one of the 
 countrymen stood at the door, listening to the approaching 
 horsemen, and Dan Ellis said to him, " How far away are 
 those men, and how many are there of them ? " 
 
 " I should guess about twenty-five," answered the man, 
 '^ and they mout be a mile away." 
 
 "Well, I'd sooner trust my ears than yours, young 
 man," said Ellis. " There are at least sixty, and they are 
 two miles away ; but coming at a gait that shows they 
 have heard we are on the road. I would give a small 
 farm to try Old Blazer upon them." 
 
 " So would I," answered Reuben ; " but I wouldn't for a 
 good many farms go against the wishes of Mrs. Hawkins." 
 
 Some ten minutes elapsed during which the dance went 
 on, but the men stood listening silently to the rapidly ap- 
 proaching horsemen. Soon the troop emerged into sight 
 — all of sixty, their arms gleaming in the moonlight. In 
 a few moments more they came to a halt in the road at 
 the foot of the bridle-path. 
 
96 A MODNTAm-WFUTE HEROINE. 
 
 Then, Dan Ellis remarked, "A half-dozen are dis- 
 mounting; they are coming here to make inquiry. My 
 friend, won't you change your coat and hat with me 
 for a little time? I want to have a talk with these 
 
 « 
 
 fellows." 
 
 The exchange of garments was quickly made, when 
 Ellis said, " Now, my friend, you'd better get into the 
 bushes with Reuben. The Rebels don't like the color of 
 my coat, and they'll nab you if they see yon in it." Say- 
 ing this he passed quietly into the house, and, taking a 
 stand near the door, looked on at the dancers. 
 
 It was but a few minutes before the sergeant who had 
 captured Reuben, appeared with a half-dozen other armed 
 men, at the door-way. The dancing suddenly ceased as 
 the sergeant entered the room, and bowing respectfully 
 to the assemblage, said, *' I am sorry to disturb you, my 
 friends — but I want to ask if you have seen a number of 
 men on horseback pass down the road within an hour or 
 two?" 
 
 " Yas, Gunnel," answered Ellis. "They stopped yere 
 all uv ten minnits." 
 
 " Stopped here ! What for?" asked the sergeant. 
 
 " Ter kiss the gals, I reckon. Leastwise thar wasn't 
 one in the room as Rube Ellis didn't buss, loike as if she 
 was his sweetheart ; an' the gals tuck hit as if they rather 
 loiked hit." 
 
 This remark was greeted by a suppressed titter from 
 the young women ; but the sergeant was in no mood to 
 be amused. He said sharply, " Why ! didn't you know 
 he was under arrest for murder and treason? " 
 
THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS. 97 
 
 *' Yas, Cunuel, we nns knowed he'd laid some ten or 
 a dozeu on ye out cold, and that ye wus meaniu' ter hang 
 him ; but we uns reckoned 'twant jnst safe ter handle 
 liiin with Dan EUis, an' his six teen-shooter, at his back." 
 
 " Dan Ellis ! " exclaimed the sergeant. " Was he with 
 him ? " 
 
 " Sartin ; and Kube say hit war Dan as broke inter the 
 jail, and let him loose, ^"^ow, if you uns cud kotch Dan 
 t'wud be suthin loike, fur thar's five thousand dollars outer 
 his head." 
 
 "How many men had they with them ?" asked the 
 sergeant. 
 
 " I'd buy 'em quick fur twenty, ef they was niggers, 
 an' I was in thet business — which I hain't." 
 
 " How long is it since they left here ? " 
 
 " Hit mout be a hour. They didn't 'pear ter be in no 
 sort uv a hurry. I reckon they'd hev stayed all night if 
 we'd axed 'em." 
 
 " Well, my friend," said the sergeant, turning to go, " I'm 
 obliged to you. I'll have those men before morning." 
 
 " Take my advice. Gunnel," added Ellis, '' hev yer 
 eyes peeled when ye come outer 'em; fur ye knows, 
 Dan has that sixteen-shooter allers handy, an' Rube '11 
 fight loike blazes when ye git him inter a corner — I 
 reckon ye knows that." 
 
 No further incident that needs mention occurred to the 
 fugitives till their arrival, at sunset on the following day, 
 at Warm Springs. There they parted with Daniel Ellis. 
 The remainder of the party, taking the road up the 
 Laurel river, were at Mrs. Hawldns' house by midnight. 
 13 
 
98 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HERulNE. 
 
 CHAPTER YI 
 
 CLOSE ESPIONAGE. 
 
 On arriving at his home Reuben Ellis fonnd that 
 every hamlet, and every highway and by-way in Madison 
 county, was alive with conscript officers, seeking to force 
 into the Confederate ranks an unwilling population. 
 Colonel Martin was applying himself to this work with 
 a zeal which showed that he was bent npon achieving 
 promotion, if not glory. He was probably familiar with 
 the adage, '' You can lead a horse to water, but you can- 
 not make him drink," which saying, applied to military 
 matters, might be rendered, " Yon can force an unwilling 
 recruit into the ranks, but he will desert at the first op- 
 portunity." But this was no concern of his. His busi- 
 ness was to furnish the men, not to lead them into 
 battle ; and he pursued this work with an unflagging 
 energy which speedily won for him the rank of brigadier- 
 general. 
 
 The man to whom Martin intrusted the enforcement 
 of the conscription in Madison county was a Colonel 
 James Keith, one of those miscreants who are thrown to 
 the surface by civil commotions, and are found amongj 
 all races, and in all latitudes. Keith had himself entered 
 the district the day following the capture of Reuben 
 Ellis, and had the rescuing party made their return by 
 the way of Marshall, they would have found him, with 
 
CLOSE ESPIONAGE. 99 
 
 two hundred men, patiently awaiting them at the bridge 
 over the French Broad river. 
 
 But Keith no sooner learned tliat Ellis had taken the 
 road to Tennessee, than he pressed on into the heart of 
 the mountains. Divided into small squads, his men 
 swarmed over the entire country, exploring every woods, 
 and invading every dwelling, but everywhere finding 
 the houses deserted of nearly all except their female 
 occupants. In a single day an extensive region had been 
 converted into a community of old men, women, and 
 children. Every male between the ages of eighteen and 
 thirty-five had suddenly disappeared, and the conscript 
 officers neither saw, nor heard, any thing of them, except 
 the occasional hoot of an owl, cry of a hawk, or bleat of 
 a sheep, issuing from some clump of laurel bushes as they 
 rode along the highways. 
 
 Mrs. Glass's receipt for cooking a hare is, " first catch 
 the hare ; " but how could these hares be caught when 
 they were fleet of foot, and famihar with every hiding 
 place in the mountains ? It could not be done in any 
 trial of speed ; it must be effected by stratagem, and 
 therein lay Keith's merit as a military- man. Up to his 
 entering the valley of the Shelton Laurel he had not se- 
 cured a solitar}^ conscript, but by the time he had arrived 
 in that secluded neighborhood, he had matured a scheme 
 which might, had his word been taken, have speedily se- 
 cured him an entire regiment. 
 
 This valley was less than five miles north of the resi- 
 dence of Mrs. Hawkins, and it contained between eighty 
 and a hundred voters, all attached to the Union, and un- 
 
lUO A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEKOINE. 
 
 willing to bear arms for the Confederacy. Keith had no 
 sooner entered it than he sent messages to the outlying 
 citizens, assuring them that if they would give up their 
 arms, and submit to the authority of tlie Confederacy, 
 they should not be called upon to serve against the Union, 
 but be allowed to follow their peaceful pursuits without 
 molestation during the continuance of the war. Eelying 
 upon these assurances, about forty of these hardy, but 
 simple-minded mountaineers, emerged from their hiding- 
 places, and delivered up their rifles. When thus rendered 
 incapable of defense, they were forced into an old build- 
 ing, and then, under a strong guard, marched off to the 
 jail at Asheville. There a number of them died from 
 wretched fare and inhuman treatment, and, seeing no 
 other way of escape, the remainder enhsted, but at the 
 first opportunity deserted, and joined the Union ranks. 
 
 This was but the beginning of the perfidious acts com- 
 mitted by this Colonel Keith. Worse and bloodier deeds 
 of his w^ere soon to follow. 
 
 Alarm and indignation spread at once throughout the 
 district, and Ellis could have organized within a fortnight 
 a regiment of a thousand men ; but what would that 
 number have availed, surrounded by hostile forces, with 
 no Union support nearer than Louisville, Kentucky. On 
 their return trip from Swain county, Daniel Ellis had 
 proposed that Reuben should co-operate with him in the 
 conduct of his *^ underground road" for fugitives, by 
 spreading a net- work of '^stations" over the Alleghany 
 region, and then extending the lines down the mountains 
 into the very heart of the Confederacy. The project 
 
CLOSE ESPIONAGE. 101 
 
 bad met with the strong approval of Mrs. Hawkins, be- 
 cause, she said, " One man thus added to the forces of 
 the Uuicm, will be equal to two subtracted from the 
 strength of the Confederacy; and every soldier they send 
 against you will be one withdrawn from their ai-mies in 
 the field. I see no way, Reuben, in which you can so 
 effectively serve your neighbors, and your country." 
 
 Accordingly, Reuben Ellis had no sooner seen his wife 
 and children safely returned to their home, than he dis- 
 patched, under trusty pilots, a party of his neighbors to 
 Dan Ellis ; and this done, he visited, somewhat disguised, 
 the entire mountain rec^ion ; and even ventured so far 
 within the Confederate lines as the lower country around 
 Morganton. His custom was to travel by night, and to 
 lay by during the day, in the woods, or at the house of 
 some Union man in whom he had confidence. In sec- 
 tions with w^iich he was not famihar, his only guide was 
 the stars, or a small pocket compass, and everywhere his 
 only companion was a sixteen-repeating Henry carbine, 
 the fellow to that of Daniel Ellis, which the famous guide 
 on arriving at Warm Springs, had insisted upon presenting 
 to him, to properly equip him for his hazardous employ- 
 ment. Thus equipped, he soon revisited the vicinity of 
 Waynesville, passed a day with Squire Plotts, and 
 returned to him the horse which had served him so well 
 in his escape from the gallows. 
 
 Directly after the visit of Dan Ellis very many of the 
 youth of Madison county availed themselves of the facili- 
 ties he offered to make their way to the Union lines; but 
 the sons of Mrs. Hawkins remained at home, it being 
 
102 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 intended that, as soon as Heuben Ellis had established the 
 ''stations," they should act as "conductors" on the 
 "underground road" through the mountain district, to 
 Elizabethton, Tennessee; but, until that road was com- 
 pleted, they were forced to secrete themselves in the 
 woods to avoid the conscript officers. All tliree did this 
 even the youngest, for such was the pressure for recruits, 
 that the officials sometimes refused the evidence of the 
 family Bible — if there chanced to be one — as to the age 
 of a robust youth, able to carry a musket. 
 
 The food of the young men was taken to them by 
 their mother, mounted upon the back of S;ira, and accom- 
 panied by the hound which has been mentioned ; but soon 
 the intelligent dog so well learned the way that he was 
 trusted to go with the rations unattended, if Mrs. Haw- 
 kins happened to be ill — and she was subject to frequent 
 attacks of most distressins: neuraloia. This fact became 
 known to Colonel Keith, and the expedient he adopted 
 to put a stop to the practice, and starve the lads into a 
 surrender, had at least the merit of originality. 
 
 It was useless to attempt to follow the hound, for on 
 several occasions the sagacious creature had baffied the 
 most energetic pursuit. The only course was to stop the 
 supplies at their source, and with this purpose, some 
 twenty Confederates, under the sergeant who has been 
 mentioned, appeared one morning at Mrs. Hawkins' 
 door-way, proposing to quarter themselves upon her, that 
 is — to subsist upon the widow's corn bread and bacon, for 
 an indefinite time, or until her sons came in, and marched 
 like men to the front to be targets for Union bullets. 
 
CLOSE ESPIONAGE. lO^ 
 
 "I can supply you with nothing," said Mrs. Hawkins. 
 " My sons will starve rather than fight for the Con- 
 federacy. In their absence I shall have only women to 
 gather in my crop, and it will, therefore, be small till another 
 harvest — barely enough for my servant and myself. 
 What is in the house, of course, you have the power to 
 take; but you will not touch it, if you are gentlemen, and 
 not thieves." 
 
 The orders of Colonel Keith clearly contemplated the 
 eating up of the widow's substance, as the surest means 
 of forcing her to submission, and her sons to a surrender. 
 But, either the imperial bearing of Mrs. Hawkins, or 
 some weak ambition to be deemed a gentleman, deterred 
 the sergeant from a literal compliance with his instruc- 
 tions. He concluded to supply his own rations, but he 
 set so close a watch upon the widow that it became 
 impossible for her to furnish her sons with provisions. 
 One of his men he detailed to dog her every footstep, the 
 others he quartered day and night around the house, and 
 in every one of its rooms, except the lady's bed-chamber. 
 It thus w^as impossible for Mrs. Hawkins to hold with 
 her sons any communication whatever. 
 
 This had been the situation of things for three or four 
 days, when Sukey one morning appeared at the Hawkins 
 mansion. The soldiers could not bridle the tongue of 
 Mrs. Hawkins, and now, in the sergeant's presence, she 
 told Sukey of the despicable espionage that was being 
 practiced upon her. Sukey took the situation in at once, 
 and on the spot resolved to thwart the design of the 
 soldiers, by herself supplying food to the starving fugi- 
 
104 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 tives. Bv foUowins: Mrs. Hawkins into her bed-cbam- 
 ber, she learned their hiding-place, and instantly mount- 
 ing her horse, she set out for her own dwelling. She 
 was there emptying the contents of her larder into a 
 huge meal-bag, when her husband entered the apartment 
 — which was at once kitchen, dining-room, aud sitting- 
 room — and inquired of her what she was doing. 
 
 " Fixin' rations fur a better man nor ye ar'," answered 
 Sukey, not pausing in her employment, "and let me 
 warn ye, that if ye try ter find out whar I go, ter tell the 
 sogers, I'll uiake Madison county too hot ter hold ye." 
 
 With not another word, she slung the bag upon her 
 shoulder, then lifted it upon her horse, and mounting 
 him herself, plunged directly into the forest. Her inti- 
 mate acquaintance with the woods enabled ner to locate 
 the hiding-place of the young men, which was in a shal- 
 low cave that indented the side of a rocky ravine, about 
 five miles back amoni2: tlie mountains. Thither she went 
 by unfrequented ways, looking often back to be sure 
 that she was not followed, and at the end of an hour, 
 drew up in a clump of trees about a fourth of a mile 
 from her destination. Then, tethering her horse to the 
 limb of a tree, she made her way, with her bag upon her 
 shoulder, through dense thickets of laurel and rhododen- 
 dron, which the animal could not penetrate, till she came 
 to the mouth of the cavern. 
 
 It was hidden by a thick growth of flowering shrubs, 
 and was so low that it could be entered only on the hands 
 and knees. Stooping down among the bashes, Sukey 
 called in a subdued voice, "Aleck, Aleck, I ar' yere 
 
CLOSE ESPIONAGE. 105 
 
 with some vittles." No answer coming, she called again 
 and again, and then crept into the cavern. 
 
 When once in the cave she could stand upright, and 
 by the dim light, which came in at the mouth, could see 
 tliat the place was tenantless, but bore evidence of very 
 recent occupation, in disordered beds, an open book on a 
 block of wood, and a coffee-pot, empty of all but the 
 dregs, which stood near a still-smouldering fire. Not a 
 fragment of food could Sukey discover, and it was evi- 
 dent to her that the young men had drawn their entire 
 sustenance for several days from the exhausted sediment 
 of that one coffee-pot. She was anxious to personally 
 assure them that she would, twice a week, bring them an 
 abundance of provisions, but she dared not wait till their 
 return, lest some chance passer-by in the forest should 
 come upon her horse, and thus discover their hiding- 
 place. Therefore, as soon as she had dragged the bag of 
 provisions into the cavern, she rode back to the dwelling 
 of Mrs. Hawkins. 
 
 The anxious mother was seated in her dining-room — 
 an apartment on the opposite side of the hall fi'om the 
 sitting-room, of similar size, but less carefully furnished, 
 and having for walls, the logs of the building, whitened 
 and chinked with clay in the usual manner. Along its 
 front and side were wide windows, but at its farther end 
 was merely a door which communicated with the kitchen, 
 and looked out upon a near-by corn-crib and corn-field. 
 With Mrs. Hawkins were the sergeant and three of his 
 men, the remainder of the squad being in the other rooms^ 
 and on the lawn in front of the dwelling. 
 14 
 
106 A MOUNTAIN- WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 The soldiers were conversing together, and giving them 
 no heed Sukey passed directly to where Mrs. Hawivins 
 was seated in the rear of the room, sewing, " I thort I'd 
 come agin, ma'am," slie said, as she took a chair by the 
 open door in view of the corn-field. " Hit mout be I 
 can't come ter morrer, so I thort I'd better do my stent 
 ter day, by cuttin' ye some wood fur the kitchen fire." 
 
 " I am sorry to have you do such things for me, Sukey," 
 replied Mrs. Hawkins, "I think you'd better leave the 
 work to Martha and me." 
 
 '' What ! ma'am," exclaimed Sukey, *' when ye has done 
 so much fur nie, and ye so weakly and sickly loike ! " 
 
 She said no more, for happening to cast her eyes toward 
 the corn-field she saw, coming through it, directly toward 
 the house, and not a hundred yards away, the three sons 
 of Mrs. Hawkins. Ignorant of the presence of the Con- 
 federates, and famishing for want of food, they had taken 
 the desperate step of coming to their mother's dwelling. 
 Hidden by the corn-crib, they could as yet be seen by no 
 one in the I'oom but Sukey ; but in another moment they 
 would turn the corner of that building, and be in plain 
 view of the sergeant, and the three soldiers. Their fate 
 hung upon a moment of time, and a woman's self-posses- 
 sion ; but Sukey was equal to the emergency. Springing 
 to her feet, and into the duor-way, so as to more fully 
 shield the young men from observation, she waved her 
 arms toward them, shouting, " You ugly cat — go away 
 — go aw^ay, I tell ye." 
 
 The young men dropped to the ground as if shot, and 
 crept back into the corn-field, and turning to Mrs. 
 
CLOSE ESPIONAGE. 107 
 
 Hawkius, Sukej said, " That old cat was a drinkin' up 
 yer milk, ma'am. Hain't I best put the pans outer the 
 shelf in the kitchen ? " 
 
 Knowing there was no cat around the premises, Mrs. 
 Hawkins was conscious that it was her boys that Sukey 
 was warning away, but no anxiety was expressed on her 
 features, and she sat her chair as immovable as a marble 
 statue. She merely said, "Yes, Sukey, I think the milk 
 had better be put away. I'll thank you if .you'll do it." 
 
 Sukey darted to the rear of the corn-crib, and there 
 had a full view of the young men working their w^ay 
 noiselessly, in a crouching attitude, through the thick 
 Stan ding- corn, which then was six feet and more in height. 
 By uttering a low mew, natural enough to have deceived 
 one of the cat species, she attracted the attention of Aleck, 
 who was in the rear of his brothers. She then made a 
 gesture toward a huge chestnut, which, uprooted by a 
 storm, was lying just in the edge of the ploughed field, 
 and then another gesture toward the kitchen, making at 
 the same time a movement of the hand to the mouth to 
 indicate the act of eating. The pantomime was so clev- 
 erly done that Aleck smiled to the verge of laughter, and 
 placing his hand upon his abdomen signified its empti- 
 ness, and that he understood her. 
 
 The fallen chestnut divided into two prongs a short 
 distance from the butt ; and into this crotch the young 
 men crept, covering themselves wdth the dead leaves of 
 the tree. They were so perfectly hidden that when Sukey, 
 axe in hand — with a sack full of eatables under her arm 
 — came to the trunk of the tree as if to gather chips, 
 
108 A MOtJNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 she had difficulty in discovering them. " Whar ar' ye 
 boys ? " she asked, in a loud whisper. 
 
 *'In the crotch, Sukey," said Aleck. "You'd better 
 come around to this side to avoid being seen." 
 
 She clambered over the' huge trunk, and then, laying 
 lier sack at the feet of the boys, went busily to cutting 
 up the branches of the tree, pausing every now and then 
 in her work, to explain to them the situation. When the 
 fugitives had eaten a hearty meal, and stowed away the 
 remainder of the food, she filled her empty sack with 
 chips, and returning with it to the house, said to Mrs. 
 Hawkins, " Thar', ma'am, I've cut ye wood enough ter 
 cook with till I come agin, the day arter ter morrer." 
 
 The young men laid by till nightfall, and then made 
 their way to their lodgings in the cavern. 
 
THROUGH THE LINES. 109 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 THKOUGH THE LIXES. 
 
 Returning to her dwelling, Sukey found her husband 
 in close conference with a young gentleman wearing the 
 gray uniform of the Confederacy. A. sudden break 
 occurred in their conversation when her presence was 
 perceived, but she overheard the stranger say as she 
 entered tlie door-way, "The General will be sure to do as 
 I tell you." Their subsequent remarks were upon unim- 
 portant subjects, about which the young Confederate 
 could not be supposed to have ridden all the way from 
 Asheville to consult a man of such limited general 
 information as Parson Justin. 
 
 The presence of the stranger, the sudden pause in the 
 conversation, and the constrained manner of the Parson, 
 excited Sukey's suspicions, and the young man had no 
 sooner gone than she asked her husband what it was that 
 "the General" was to do. His answer, as she subse- 
 quently repeated it to Mrs. Hawkins, was that the Ashe- 
 ville commandant was his friend, and being so, had sent 
 this young man to him to say, that, owing to the con- 
 scription having failed to produce the requisite number 
 of recruits, it was soon to be extended to include all able- 
 bodied men under the age of forty-live, except millers, 
 physicians, and clergymen. Those classes would probably 
 be exempt because food, physic, and the Christian reli- 
 
110 A MOUNTAIN- WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 gion, were deemed essential to the existence of the Con- 
 federacy. The General had thought it probable that the 
 Parson would not be anxious to serve his country in the 
 "imminent deadly breach," and, as lie could not be ex- 
 empted as a clergyman — he never having been ordained 
 — the General suggested that he might possibly escape 
 the draft by taking the superintendence of a grist-mill, 
 near by upon the Ivy. The mill belonged to a Confede- 
 rate officer, and the Parson could have the position, as 
 the present manager was about to be transferred to some 
 petty command in the service. 
 
 When Sukey inquired what price the Parson had to 
 pay for so great a kindness, he answered, ''Nothin'. 
 The Ginral ar' my friend, an' he ar' doin' this eout uv 
 cl'ar friendship." 
 
 This Sukey did not credit. She believed that the price 
 he had agreed to pay was the betrayal of his neighbors. 
 He was, she thought, to act as a spy to entrap them into 
 the hands of the Confederates. This conviction she com- 
 municated to Mrs. Hawkins, but she carefully concealed 
 it from her husband, for since she had learned to read, 
 she had pondered much upon the precept, '' Be ye wise 
 as serpents," which she deemed peculiarly applicable to a 
 condition of things wherein one's foes were those of his 
 own household. Thus put upon her guard, Sukey 
 observed extreme caution in conveying provisions to the 
 sons of Mrs. Hawkins. 
 
 It was not many days before Peuben Ellis returned to 
 the mountains, leading a company of fifty Union men 
 whom he was piloting on to Dan Ellis at Elizabethton, 
 
THROUGH THE LINES. Ill 
 
 Tennessee. These men being joined bj a still larger 
 number from around the Ivy, he soon set out with them, 
 and two of the Hawkins boys, to make the passage across 
 the Alleghanies. Ellis was familiar with the route, and 
 it was necessary that the Hawkins lads should become 
 so, for the intention was that thev should o^uide similar 
 parties in future. Therefore, while Benjamin remained 
 behind to receive any fugitives who might come in from 
 the various stations which had been established by Keu- 
 ben, Aleck and "Billy-Boy" went forward with the 
 party. 
 
 All were on foot, each man carrying about ten days' 
 rations ; but the younger Hawkins thought he could not 
 trudge upwards of eighty miles, by ways seldom or never 
 traveled, and over steep and rugged mountains, without 
 his pony, Sam. Ellis objected to the horse as likely to 
 betray them, but on being assured that the animal would 
 keep silence, if he was so enjoined, and could be relied 
 upon in the most precipitous and dangerous places, he 
 reluctantly consented to his going with the party. To 
 avoid exciting the suspicions of the guard at the mansion, 
 Sukey was employed to borrow the pony of Mrs. Haw- 
 kins, and she did so on tlie plea of her need of a horse to 
 use while the Parson was so much away with their own. 
 
 This little circumstance came near bringing disaster 
 upon the expedition. Before conveying the pony to his 
 youthful owner, Sukey lodged him overnight in the Par- 
 son's barn, after which he was neither seen nor heard of. 
 The soldiers wore doubtless informed of this by the Par- 
 son, when, on the following day, he made a formal call 
 
112 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEEOINE. 
 
 upon Mrs. Hawkins. To this conclusion that lady was 
 led by the fact that before the Parson had left her house, 
 one of the soldiers — taking a horse from her field with- 
 out so much as saying " by your leave" — rode rapidly 
 away in the direction of Colonel Keith's quarters. 
 
 On the following morning the sergeant surprised Mrs. 
 Hawkins by courteously announcing that, inasmuch as 
 liis presence at her house had been productive of no re- 
 sult, he had orders from his colonel to remove his men 
 from her premises. 
 
 Putting these several circumstances together, Mrs. 
 Hawkins concluded that by some means — probably 
 through the treachery of Justin — Colonel Keith had 
 been led to suspect the intended hegira, and was calling 
 in his men to prevent the escape of the fugitives. How 
 strong a force he had was not known, for they were scat 
 tered in small squads throughout the district ; but it was 
 certain that it largely outnumbered the refugees, and 
 might prove a serious obstruction to their progress. The 
 soldiers had not been gone from her house an hour, when 
 Mrs. Hawkins mounted a horse, and rode to the seques- 
 tered spot among the mountains where Ellis and the fugi- 
 tives were lying concealed. 
 
 Ellis coincided in opinion with Mrs. Hawkins, but, to 
 be assured of the real facts, he sent out several men in 
 different directions to learn what movements had oc- 
 curred amono^ Keith's forces. The men returned with 
 the uniform report that each separate squad of soldiers 
 had been observed moving in the direction of Yancey 
 county. 
 
THROUGH THE LINES. 113 
 
 A short distance at the East a road leads directly throuorh 
 the mountains into Tennessee. This was the shortest 
 and easiest route for the fugitives ; but it was considerably 
 traveled, and passing that way, by night or by day, so 
 large a body of men could not escape observation. There- 
 fore, Ellis decided to pursue a longer and rougher route 
 along the eastern slope of the Aileghanies, and, avoiding 
 the traveled roads, to guide his troop through the woods, 
 and over the steep and rugged hills and mountains with 
 which the way was obstructed. The movement of the 
 soldiers toward Yancey county indicated that Keith had 
 divined his intentions, and was preparing to waylay him ; 
 but Ellis had no alternative, so, he set out on a starless 
 night in early August, knowing that only by extreme cau- 
 tion, and sleepless vigilance, could he break through the 
 meshes of the net in which he was enveloped. 
 
 Without encountering any special obstacle, the com- 
 pany had gone some twelve miles, and entered the borders 
 of Yancey county, when they arrived at the base of two 
 steep and nigged mountains, the Big Bald, and the Sugar 
 Loaf, which rose directly in their path, and were nearly 
 a mile in height. To avoid a long detour, Ellis had in- 
 tended to climb a sloping gap which lies between these 
 mountains, but the place was one that Keith would natur- 
 ally select for an ambuscade, and he was unwilling to enter 
 it until it had been reconnoitred. For this service " Billy- 
 Boy " volunteered ; the company halting in the forest while 
 he w^ent forward with his pony on a noiseless walk. 
 
 The lad had proceeded but a short distance up the gap 
 when, intermingled with the tree trunks, and not two 
 15 
 
114 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 hundred yards away, be saw what appeared to be several 
 hundred stumps, standing closely together, and all about 
 of the size of a man!s body. Shielded by the dense 
 foliage, tlie boy halted his horse, and scanned the stumps 
 as narrowly as was possible in the darkness. He soon 
 perceived the}" were endowed with motion, and that some 
 of them were in attitudes not natural to chopped-off 
 timber. Noiselessly wheeling his horse, and keeping 
 altogether in the shadow of the trees, he walked slowly 
 back to the waiting company. 
 
 Without a moment's delay, Ellis led his men about a 
 mile back upon the route they had come, and then took 
 a northerly course toward the Big Butt Mountain. It 
 was distant about eight miles, but the troop reached i+s 
 lower slopes just as the day was breaking, and climbing 
 then its rugged face for a mile or more, they went into 
 camp in a dense grove of laurels. Here they prepared 
 their breakfast, and, being much fatigued, were soon 
 soundly asleep among the matted bushes. 
 
 While they slept Ellis and Alexander Hawkins pushed 
 on up the mountain to discover some clear spot from 
 which they could view the surrounding country. Such a 
 spot they found on a steep ledge of rocks from whose 
 flinty surface the rain had worn just enough soil to sup- 
 port a scanty growth of stunted spruce and hemlock. 
 Here, looking over the tops of the tall trees below them, 
 they saw, about eight miles away, the gleaming gun- 
 barrels of two distinct bodies of soldiery. One body ap- 
 peared to be emerging from the gap the younger Haw- 
 kins had so fortunately explored, the other was about a 
 
THROCGH THE LINES. 115 
 
 mile to the westward, and both were moving on lines 
 that would converge in the highway which passed along 
 the southern base of the Big Butt, about two miles from 
 where they were standing. This highway the refugees 
 had been obliged to cross to make the ascent of the 
 mountain, and, as the passage of a liundred and twenty 
 men through matted undergrowth, leaves of necessity a 
 very distinct trail, it was morally certain that the route 
 tliey had taken w^ould be discovered. The two bodies of 
 soldiers numbered not less than five hundred, and be- 
 tween them the refugees had passed on the preceding 
 night, at a probable distance from the more westerly 
 one, of only a few hundred yards. 
 
 The only safe thing for Ellis to do, was to count upon 
 discovery, and place his men in a position wliere they 
 might repel the onslaught of four times their own num- 
 ber. Such a position was tlie ledge on which he was 
 standing. It was a narrow shelf, with at its back an 
 abrupt cliff several hundred feet high, and the ascent to 
 it was so steep as to be approachable by a man only on 
 his hands and knees. The objection to the position — 
 inasmuch as Ellis desired to avoid a confiict — was that a 
 body of men stationed upon it would be in plain view, 
 through several openings in the trees upon the lower 
 ground, of any one coming near to it, from a southerly 
 direction. But, the soldiers were rapidly approach- 
 ing, and there was no time to select a better position ; 
 therefore, leaving Hawkins to observe their movements, 
 Ellis hurried down the ledge to arouse the sleeping 
 refugees. 
 
116 A MOUNTAIN- WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 The entire company was soon upon their feet, and fol- 
 lowing Ellis clown the mountain upon the same trail by 
 which they had ascended to their encampment. When 
 within a hundred yards of the highway Ellis gave the 
 word to halt, and ordered every man to take off his shoes, 
 and, in scattering order, and leaving no trail, to follow 
 him again up the mountain. This he did to battle pur- 
 suit, and give the impression that his company had there 
 taken to the highway. 
 
 It was two miles of steep climbing, and, on several oc- 
 casions, the pony, Sam, had to be almost lifted up some 
 sharp acclivity ; but at the end of nearly an hour the 
 whole company arrived safely at the foot of the selected 
 position. Here, a difficulty not before thought of pre- 
 sented itself. By no possible means could Sam be got 
 up the precipice. He had been trained to kneel at the 
 behest of his master, but such a thing as climbing a 
 precipice upon his hands and knees, was not yet included 
 among the pony's accomplishments. Therefore sadly 
 the boy led him a short distance away into the woods — 
 sadly, because if there was to be a ''scrimmage," he 
 longed to be in it. 
 
 While the men were making their toilsome way up to 
 the rocky shelf, Alexander Hawkins had seen the two 
 bodies of soldiers come together, and then, after a brief 
 halt, move forward to the highway. Now and then 
 they were hidden by some projecting mountain spur, bnt 
 their course was steadily forward, and if they did not 
 turn back, they would soon be abreast of the point from 
 which the refugees had ascended the mountain. When 
 
THROUGH TOE LINES. 117 
 
 the last refugee had climbed the ledge, the soldiers were 
 not more than four miles distant ; but so overcome were 
 the fugitives with the fatigue of their tramp of twenty 
 miles through ploughed fields and dense midergrowth, 
 stumblino^ in the darkness every now and then over rocks 
 and fallen trees, that as one after another gained the 
 rocky shelf, he sank to the ground, and regardless of his 
 danger, fell at once into a deep slumber. Soon Ellis and 
 Alexander Hawkins were the onlv individuals standino: 
 erect in the entire company. 
 
 With deep concern Ellis observed the exhaustion of 
 his men, and with keen anxiety watched the soldiers ap- 
 proach the point where the refugees had crossed the high- 
 way. There they halted, and about three-fourths of the 
 number dismounted, and took the trail w^hicli led up to 
 the encampment in the grove of laurels. The two watchers 
 sank to their knees behind a couple of dwarf hemlof.ks ; 
 but they kept their eyes riveted upon the moving sol- 
 diery. Soon they saw them arrive at the spot, carefully 
 inspect the bushes, and, then, after a brief pause, as if for 
 rest, retrace their steps down the mountain. All now 
 hung upon whether the soldiers should observe the trail 
 of the fugitives where they had turned to make the ascent 
 to the ledge of rocks. In breathless suspense the two 
 men watched their movements. When they saw them 
 pass the point without discovering it, they could have 
 shouted for joy — but shouting might be heard, and, 
 moreover, was not in order, for Keith had not yet given 
 over the pursuit, nor were the fugitives yet out of 
 danger. 
 
118 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEKOINE. 
 
 Remounting their horses, the soldiers now pressed on 
 up the high-road to lay, as Ellis supposed, other ambus- 
 cades for the approaching night, into which they hoped 
 to entrap the tired refugees. Another dangerous tramp 
 was therefore before his men, and for it they would need 
 all their strength ; so Ellis let them sleep on while he and 
 Hawkins discussed the best course to pursue in the cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 The Big Butt Mountain is not one of the highest of 
 the Alleghanies, but it extends ten miles from east to 
 west, and only by a weary climb of five miles can one 
 reach its summit. The refugees were encamped on its 
 southern slope, at the foot of which the road pursued by 
 the soldiers winds through a wooded region till it reaches 
 the Toe river, where it opens upon a broad valley ten- 
 anted by a considerable farming population. On that 
 route, therefore, the fugitives would have before them, 
 not only the soldiers, but perhaps an imfriendly people, 
 some of whom might observe and report their movements. 
 
 The northern slope of the mountain, on the contrary, 
 is covered by an unbroken forest, traversed by no road, 
 and occupied by only one dwelling — the cabin of a white 
 man whom Ellis had visited a few years before, when on 
 a hunting expedition. As it was now more important to 
 throw off pursuit, than to make progress, would it not be 
 well to scale the mountain, and encamp in some secluded 
 spot on its northern slope, till the refugees were sure that 
 Colonel Keith had turned back to Madison county? This 
 course being decided upon, Ellis and Hawkins stretched 
 themselves upon the flinty rock for a few hours' slumber. 
 
THROUGH THE LINES. 119 
 
 Tliey awoke about two hours after noon, and, ruusiug 
 the men, set out to cliuib in a zig-zag course the rugged 
 face of the mountain. Their way was everywhere 
 obstructed by rocks, fallen trees, aud sharp acclivities, 
 and the feet of many of the men being badly swollen' 
 from the travel of the previous night, they made but 
 slow progress. Xot till half an hour before sunset did 
 they reach the level, treeless space that forms the summit 
 of the Big Butt, and look off upon the wilderness of 
 foi"est-clad mountains which fill the entire field of 
 vision. It is a magnificent panorama; but it had no 
 attractions for these hunted men, who saw, gleaming in 
 the sun a few miles away, along the winding Toe, the 
 stacked arms of their numerous pursuers. 
 
 There was no water on the summit, and water was 
 indispensable, not only to quench the thirst of the faint- 
 ing men, but to bathe their feet and limbs, sadly torn and 
 bruised as they were by the prostrate trees and sharp 
 rocks, over which they had so often stumbled in the 
 darkness. But Ellis knew^ of a spring, copious and never 
 failing, which gushes out of the mountain side about five 
 hundred yards from the summit, and is one of the sources 
 of Devil's creek — the euphonious name of a picturesque 
 stream which flows into Toe river about twelve miles 
 away. Around the pool formed by this spring the men 
 were soon gathered, laving their feet in the ice-cold water. 
 
 They formed a picturesque group. More than three 
 thousand feet above the sea, the elevation was too great 
 for the larger growth of deciduous trees, but above their 
 heads rose a majestic grove of balsam, soaring, in some 
 
120 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 instances, a hundred and fifty feet into the air; and 
 around them, on all sides, were dense thickets of laurel 
 and rhododendron, loaded with their fragrant pink and 
 pale-jellow blossoms. For a circuit of about a hundred 
 feet around the spring the ground had been trodden bare 
 of shrubbery, by the countless wild animals which had 
 frequented it for innumerable centuries. And this bare 
 space was covered by a thick green sward, excellent fod- 
 der for Sam, and a soft bed for the tired men who were 
 now gathered upon it, some seated on the ground, some 
 leaning upon their rifles, and some standing erect, and 
 peering through the trees at the camp of their pursuers, 
 in absolute descent, and nearly half a mile below them. 
 The men were all in the prime of life, or early manhood — 
 tall, erect, and muscular, with rugged faces, and a resolute 
 look which told that they would brave all things rather 
 than submit to what they deemed oppression. 
 
 A few of them stood in a group looking down at the 
 distant soldiers, and earnestly consulting together; but 
 after a time they turned back to where Ellis was seated 
 upon the grass, quietly eating his supper, and one said to 
 him : " Captain, we uns doan't 'xzactly loike this bein' 
 hunted down loike wild critters." 
 
 "Nor do I," said Ellis. "It isn't altogether pleasant; 
 but I don't see how we can help it." 
 
 " We uns reckon we know a way ter holp hit," said 
 the man, "Jest light down on them fellers before 
 mornin'." 
 
 " Well, that might finish some of them, and scatter the 
 rest," answered EUis; "but I doubt if it would help you 
 
THROUGH THE LINES. 121 
 
 to get through to the Union hnes. I think we had better 
 not have a fight unless it is forced upon us." 
 
 " But we uns karn't stand this skulkin' much longer — 
 hit'r agin natur'." 
 
 " Well," said Ellis, '' I'll tell you what I propose to do, 
 and then you can tell me what you think of it. Those 
 men have failed to find our tracks in the road, and are 
 convinced that we are still upon this mountain. I con- 
 clude so from their placing their camp where they can 
 head us off, whether we leave the mountain on this side, 
 or the other. They will scour this whole region for us 
 to-morrow, and then, if we are discovered, we can fight 
 them with the chances greatly in our favor ; for I know a 
 spot on the creek below here, where we can completely 
 hide, and which, if they find it, we can hold against twice 
 their number." 
 
 The men were satisfied with this explanation, and soon 
 the whole number were gathered in little groups upon the 
 grass, engaged in clieerful conversation, and giving, ajDpa- 
 rently, no thought to what might happen on the morrow. 
 
 On the following morning the refugees ate their break- 
 fasts without building a fire, lest its smoke should betray 
 their position ; and soon afterward, the men on the look- 
 out reported a movement at Keith's encampment. The 
 soldiers appeared to be saddling their horses, and soon 
 they were seen to move away along the road down Toe 
 river. " They are coming this way, as I expected," said 
 Ellis. "It will take them all of three hours to get this 
 far up the mountain ; but we had better be getting into 
 
 hiding." 
 
 16 
 
122 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 A majority of the meu had not yet resumed their shoes, 
 and directing the others to remove theirs, and every one 
 to step in the running water of the streamlet, Ellis now 
 led the company down the creek, leaving, however, a 
 small squad behind to remove every vestige of the en- 
 campment. Every small article was carefully gathered 
 np, the trodden grass was coaxed to stand erect with small 
 twigs, and then " Billy-Boy " led Sam several times over 
 the cleared space, to give the sward the appearance of 
 having been crushed by the feet of the bears, wolves, and 
 panthers, which were known to infest the mountain in 
 large numbers. 
 
 About a thousand feet farther down the creek, and at 
 the mouth of a narrow ravine, with walled, precipitous 
 sides, was a large grove of laurels, taller, and denser than 
 any the men had seen, and growing closely down to the 
 margin of the stream. In this grove the men were told 
 to secrete themselves, carefully replacing every twig they 
 were obliged to remove in effecting an entrance. It was 
 slow work, but by the end of an hour all were snugly 
 housed among the laurels — even "Billy-Boy" and Sam, 
 who were stretched together at full length upon the 
 ground, the boy's head resting upon the horse's neck, and 
 both fast approaching that condition of slumber which is 
 said to '• keep one eye open." 
 
 Ellis and the older Hawkins had remained behind, to 
 observe the movements of the soldiers. Standing at the 
 summit, they soon saw the troop divide, about three- 
 fourths of them striking directly westward into the forest, 
 while the other fourth remained on the bank of the Toe, 
 
TlJIiOLGH THE LINES. 123 
 
 about five hundred yards above the mouth of Devil's 
 creek. 
 
 "Do vou see what that means, Aleck?" asked Ellis. 
 " They are keeping those men there to be ready to head 
 us off if we attempt to leave the mountain, and they have 
 scattered those single horsemen along the road in their rear, 
 to give notice of our movements. The squad that is 
 coming this way will break into small parties, and only 
 one party will come up this creek. What a splendid 
 chance it will be to make hash of the whole of them — 
 we could easily thrash the squad that comes this way, tlie 
 firing would attract the others here, but they w^ould come 
 up separately, and we could cut them off in detail. What 
 do you say, Aleck ? The men now are thoroughly rested, 
 and would fight desperately." 
 
 "I think it had better be done," said Hawkins. "It 
 would clear our way into Tennessee." 
 
 " That is exactly what I fear it would not do," answered 
 Ellis. " The mountain people all through here are for 
 the Union ; but I am told the wdiole region swarms 
 with soldiers, trying to force the lying-out men into 
 the Kebel ranks. I am afraid a fight would bring so 
 many of them upon us that we couldn't possibly get 
 through. I think we had better avoid a collision if we 
 can ; if we cannot, you and I will not be responsible for 
 the consequences." 
 
 Ellis took a position in the laurels near to Billy and the 
 pony, both of whom appeared to be soundly asleep. 
 "Wake up, Billy," said Ellis, "you'll need to have all 
 your wits about you to keep this pony quiet." 
 
124 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 " That's all you know about natural history," replied 
 Billy, opening his eyes, and sitting upright. " Sam will 
 be deader'n a door-nail. Let me show you." Then 
 addressing the horse the boy exclaimed, " Wake up, Sam." 
 The pony opened his eyes, raised his head from the ground, 
 and looked at his master. " I^ow, Sam," said Bill}^, 
 *' play dead." Instantly the pony laid his head again 
 upon the ground, closed his eyes, stretched out his limbs, 
 and became absolutely motionless, not even his breathing 
 being perceptible. " JS'ow, Reuben," continued Billy, 
 " you might kick him, or even roll him over, and not get 
 a sign of life out of him. But no one else can handle 
 him as I can." 
 
 " Well, he is a knowing animal," said Ellis. 
 
 " Knowing ! " answered Billy, " he knows every thing 
 except the ten commandments, and those he keeps better 
 than most human beings." 
 
 Speaking only in low whispers the fugitives waited for 
 perhaps two hours, when sounds were heard coming up 
 the creek, as of a body of men stumbling, now and then, 
 over the loose stones that paved the channel. Rapidly 
 the sounds came nearer, and soon about a hundred sol- 
 diers, led by a tall man in the uniform of a Confederate 
 major, passed silent, and in single file, before the mouth 
 of the ravine. 
 
 The Confederates had been gone half an hour when 
 they returned in a reverse order — the major being in the 
 rear, with another officer. As the two came abreast, and 
 within a hundred yards of the hidden refugees, the major 
 said to the other, " They have been thar, though they've 
 
THROUGH THE LINES. . 125 
 
 covered up tlieir tracks with amazin' smartness. They 
 must be now on some part of the mountain. D — n the 
 orders; I wish the colonel would listen to me, and — " 
 The remainder of the sentence was lost in the distance. 
 While he said this not less than fifty rifles were pointed 
 directly at him, and a slight pressure of the finger upon 
 any one of them would have sent him into eternity. 
 
 As the soldiers passed out of hearing, Ellis said to those 
 about him, "I know that man ; his name is Irving. He 
 lives on the 'Chucky river, and is one of the biggest 
 scoundrels in existence." Subsequent events showed 
 that Irving was a fit comrade to the bloody-minded 
 Keith. 
 
 In about half an hour the men were allowed to emerge 
 from their hiding place, and return to the encampment 
 on the summit of the mountain; but a couple of sentinels 
 were left behind at the laurel bushes, to give warning in 
 case the soldiers should be heard again ascending the 
 creek. Nothing further of importance occurred till about 
 two hours before sunset, when the troops were observed 
 to emerge from the woods which hid the base of the 
 mountain, and to join the men who had been left upon 
 Toe river. Then the whole body forded the river, and 
 rode rapidly down the road which, passing a mile or two 
 to the east of the hamlet of Erwin, leads directly to Jones- 
 borough, Tennessee. This movement Ellis did not un- 
 derstand, but he deemed the opportunity favorable for an 
 escape from the mountain ; and accordingly, in a few 
 moments the refugees, with him and Aleck at their head, 
 were making their slow way down the streamlet. 
 
126 A MOUNTAIN- WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 It wanted still an hoar of sunset when Ellis halted the 
 troop in a group of trees about half a mile from the foot 
 of the mountain, and said to them, ''A man that I know 
 lives a little way below. He may have talked with some 
 of the soldiers. Hawkins and I will go down, and see if 
 we can learn from him the meaning of their movements. 
 Stay here, unless you hear our rifles.-' 
 
 The house stood in a cultivated clearing of about ten 
 acres, and was of logs, with a slab roof, held down by 
 long weight-poles. It was approached by only a narrow 
 path, and had never so much as seen a wheeled vehicle, 
 it being all of three miles from any highway. Ellis 
 and Hawkins had no sooner entered the path, than a 
 dozen ferocious dogs sprang from before the dwelling, 
 and set up a dismal howling. Soon a woman, clad in de- 
 cent homespun, came to the door, and calling off the dogs, 
 said to the visitors, " How d'ye, strangers ! " 
 
 " How are you^ Mrs. Pollard," said Ellis, advancing 
 toward her. 
 
 " Lord ha' massy ! Rube Ellis, ar' thet ye ? " exclaimed 
 the woman, in great surprise. " Why, we uns hearn tell 
 ye war strung up by the measly Kebels." 
 
 " No," answered Reuben, '' I managed to give them the 
 slip. But where is your husband ? " 
 
 *'In the bush, jest ahind uv the barn. Ye sees, he 
 hev ter tuck ter the bush when ary one is seed a comin', 
 'case the conscript galoots ar' thicker round hyar nur 
 bugs in a feather-bed. Come inter the house, and tuck 
 cheers, while I blow fur him. He'll be powerful glad 
 ter greet ye." 
 
THROUGH THE LINES. 127 
 
 While the woman took down a cow's-horn that hung at 
 the door- way, Reuben and Aleck entered the dwelling. 
 It had two rooms on the ground floor, and a loft over- 
 liead, approached by a ladder in the corner. A fire of 
 pine knots, by which the woman was preparing supper, 
 was blazing on the broad stone hearth, and near it were 
 several small children, with hands and faces not quite so 
 grimy as is common to the juvenile mountaineers of that 
 latitude. Three rough bedsteads, piled high with feather- 
 beds and well-worn quilts, were set against the walls, 
 which were white-washed and chinked with clay, and here 
 and there ornamented with eno^ravins^s extracted from 
 some illustrated newspaper, yellow with age or dampness. 
 From a window was suspended, in lieu of a curtain, a 
 glaring, highly-colored pill advertisement. In the center 
 of the well-scoured puncheon-floor stood a pine table, on 
 which were a pot of coffee, a plate of fried bacon, and 
 another of sweet potatoes and corn-pone, all smoking 
 hot and waiting to be eaten. 
 
 Evidently, the house was occupied by a family that is 
 typical of a large population in this mountain region. 
 Ignorant, unambitious, and hidden away in forest recesses, 
 these people are content to let the world jog on its noisy 
 way, so long as "they can glean a scanty livelihood from 
 their little clearings, and the game they can bring down 
 with their shot-guns. 'Being outside the sphere of schools 
 and churches, they have no learning, nor any religion be- 
 yond what is natural to man in the most primitive condi- 
 tion. They pay no taxes, recognize no political authority, 
 and hve in a pure state of natural liberty, regulated only 
 
128 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 by the savage law of lex talio?iis — an eye for an eye, a 
 tooth for a tooth, and a plug of tobacco for another plug 
 — at the borrower's convenience. 
 
 The man w^ho now entered the cabin was tall, broad 
 shouldered, and of splendid physical proportions. His 
 hair and beard were long and black, and he wore a 
 brown hunting-shirty homespun trousers, high-top boots, 
 and a slouch hat — which he did not take the trouble to 
 remove from his head when he grasped Reuben by 
 the hand, almost shouting, " Why, I'm powerful glad ter 
 see ye. I thort ye war a dingnation fule; but hit's elar 
 ye hev sense enuff ter keep yer head on yer shoulders." 
 
 ^' Why did you think me a fool ? " asked Ellis, laugh- 
 ing. 
 
 " 'Case ye tuck sides in this hyar scrimmage. Let 'em 
 fite hit eout 'mong tharselves. The world'll get along if 
 all uv 'em gwo ter th' dogs." 
 
 In this, he expressed the political sentiment of, per- 
 haps, a majority of his district. However, Ellis was not 
 there to discuss such subjects, but to ascertain, if he 
 could, the object of Keith's march in the direction of 
 Tennessee. The native could not tell him; he had not 
 conversed with, nor even been seen by, any of the sol- 
 diers, but his wife had, and she now said, " I kin tell ye, 
 Mr. Ellis. They're bound fur Greenville. Two uv 'em 
 stopped hyar, an' 'sisted on me gittin' 'em dinner. One 
 was thet devil, Sam Irving, from over ter Washington 
 county ; an' he done uuthin' but swar through the hull 
 meal, 'case th' regimen' was ordered ter onct over ter 
 Tennessee. He wanted ter stay long enuff ter kotch 
 
THROUGH THE LINES. 129 
 
 an' hang, a lot of Madison county men, as he saj ar' a 
 hidin' in this mounting." 
 
 His route now being cleared of Keith and his mounted 
 militia, Ellis pressed forward rapidly — lying-by in the 
 woods durino: the dav — and on the mornino- of the sixth 
 day the refugees met Dan Ellis at the rendezvous he 
 had appointed — the old forge in the vicinity of Eliza- 
 bethton, Tennessee. There Reuben Ellis, and the 
 Hawkins boys, left the refugees, and returned without 
 accident to Madison countv, while Dan Ellis led the 
 weary men forward to Kentucky. 
 
 It was a ten days' experience of narrow escapes and 
 almost incredible hardships, during which they were 
 forty-eight hours without food ; but at last, faint and 
 famishing, their clothing torn to shreds, their faces and 
 limbs scratched and bleeding, and their feet so swollen 
 that they could scarcely walk, the entire company en- 
 tered the Union lines in safety. For eighteen days not 
 one of them had been within a human habitation, and 
 the first dwelling which Dan Ellis, and a small party, 
 visited was not of a kind to impress them with very high 
 ideas of Kentucky civilization. It was in the mountains 
 of east Kentucky, and, as the family is a fair representa- 
 tive of a large class in that region, I subjoin a description 
 which Daniel ElHs has written of the reception he met 
 there. 
 
 " The place,'' he writes, " had quite a forbidding ap- 
 pearance; but the men were very tired and hungry, and 
 said they were compelled to rest. Every thing about the 
 premises had the indelible mark of filthiness, and cer- 
 17 
 
130 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 tainly none but hungry dogs, or half-starved men, could 
 have had the stomach to eat at that dirty-looking place. 
 But under the stress of circumstances, we resolved to 
 try one meal, at any rate. When I entered the house the 
 first object that attracted my observation was an old 
 woman, sitting in a corner of the fire-place, smoking a 
 pipe. She was ragged and barefooted, her feet were as 
 scaly and black with dirt as a toad's back, and her ankles 
 (for her dress was too short to conceal them) looked like 
 a couple of rusty gun barrels. Her hair had surely never 
 been combed, for it stood out in a thousand directions — • 
 in short she was beorrimed witli dirt from head to foot." 
 
 " There were also two girls, who seemed to be about 
 eighteen years of age, who ran into another room, but 
 soon came back, each one habited in a calico dress, which 
 was so thin, and their under-dress so scarce — if indeed 
 there was any under-dress at all — that their forms were 
 distinctly visible through their scanty clothing.'' 
 
 '' They commenced making preparations for supper, 
 and one of the gii'ls, accompanied by an old, and very 
 poor, hound, started in pursuit of a chicken, which, after 
 a long time, they succeeded in catching, when the girl 
 pulled its head off, and laid it on a table. Soon a large 
 cat jumped up and dragged it off to the floor, when two 
 other cats seized it by each wing, and the three ran out of 
 the house with it, and attempted to get under the floor. 
 But all at once a hound-puppy stopped them in their 
 course, caught the chicken by the tail, and there they 
 stood, each one striving for the mastery, with awful growls 
 and snarls. To end the dispute one of the girls made a 
 
THROUGH THE LINES. 131 
 
 sudden dash with the fire-shovel upon the squad of car> 
 nivorous animals, and recaptured the prize, which she at 
 once proceeded to prepare for our supper!" 
 
 " We purchased a small hog, and had it cooked, and we 
 also had a plenty of corn bread ; but it was baked out of 
 meal which was badly spoiled, and consequently was not 
 very palatable. To cap the climax of dainties, they 
 cooked a quantity of green cabbage, full of worms, and 
 with not a particle of salt to the whole unsavory mess." 
 
 ^'No person knows what he can be induced to eat, until 
 he has suffered for several days and nights from the most 
 excessive huno;er." 
 
 *' After supper we began to pile about the floor to 
 sleep, for the beds were so ragged and dirty, that they 
 looked unpromising, and I had no doubt were well sup- 
 plied with vermin. We slept until morning, but did not 
 stay to breakfast. We paid our bill, which was fifty 
 cents each, and then set out for Manchester, Kentucky." 
 
 In a very few days after their arrival at Manchester, 
 every one of the refugees had enlisted in the Union army. 
 
U-2 
 
 A MODNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A TRAGEDY. 
 
 In the absence of Colonel Keith's regiment, the opera- 
 tions of the ^' underground road " assumed a remarkable 
 degree of activity. Reuben Ellis had formed connections 
 as far east as Burke county, and west to the State line in 
 Graham and Swain counties, and from all the interven- 
 ing districts there soon poured in to the rendezvous in 
 Madison connty, the best war material of the mountain 
 region. It is impossible to state the emigration with any 
 degree of accuracy, but during the six months next suc- 
 ceeding the first trip of Ellis into Tennessee, it could not 
 have been less than one thousand. 
 
 The extent of Ellis's operations was probably not sus- 
 pected by the Confederate authorities. He was known 
 to be somewhere in the district, and a reward was offered 
 for his capture, and also for that of the Hawkins boys, 
 but it failed to tempt any one of the many hundreds 
 who knew of their resorts, to either molest or betray 
 them. Various small squads were sent into Madison 
 county to secure their arrest, and some of these squads 
 came directly under the guns of larger bodies of the refu- 
 gees, but, acting on the advice of Mrs. Hawkins, Ellis 
 invariably allowed them to pass by unmolested. 
 
 As soon as it was known that no permanent force of 
 Confederates was any longer in the neighborhood, many 
 
A TRAGEDY. 133 
 
 of tlie out-liers emerged from tlieir hiding-places to aid 
 their wives and daughters to gather in their harvests, but 
 they ventured out with great caution, and adopted a code 
 of signals by which the neighbors gave them warning of 
 the approach of the soldiery. But it was soon observed 
 that the appearance of any considerable number was sure 
 to be speedily fohowed by the visit of an armed force 
 from Asheville. The connection of these events was es- 
 pecially noticed directly after about ten of the refugees 
 had, during two entire days, worked at gathering in the 
 crops of Mrs. Hawkins. It was evident that there was a 
 spy in the neighborhood, but who he was could not be 
 conjectured. 
 
 It was not supposed to be Parson Justin. He, good 
 man, was high above suspicion. In the beginning of the 
 disturbances, when all were called upon to define their 
 position, the question had been asked why he did not de- 
 clare his principles, and the answer given was, " Princer- 
 puls I How kin he 'clar 'em when he hain't nary a prin- 
 cerpnl." This appears to have been the universal opinion, 
 and it was thouoht that he was '•' sittino^ the fence '' in 
 readiness to spring to whichever side should come out 
 uppermost. 
 
 But public sentiment in regard to the Parson speedily 
 changed after he took charge of the mill upon the Ivy. 
 It soon came to be remarked that if he had no political 
 faith, he had some practical Christianity, for he sud- 
 denly blossomed out a good Samaritan. No lone woman 
 who, in the absence of her husband, had been obliged to 
 sow and reap her own little harvest, ever came to him 
 
134 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 with a single bushel of corn, but it was returned to her 
 in two bushels of meal, which, if it proved too heavy for 
 the woman to carry, the Parson would load upon his 
 horse, and taking her up behind him, would "tote" it off 
 to her humble dwelling, discoursing on the way some- 
 what as follows : " Yes; Mary, my dear child, hev no 
 fears, fur so long ez John ar' away, ye shill not want — yer 
 single bag uv corn shill be loike th' widder's cruse uv oil 
 ez never failed ; fur I loves all th' brave boys ez ar' away 
 a fightin' fur thar kentry. These ar' troublous times, 
 Mary, an' 'taint egzactly prudent fur a preacher uv th' 
 gospil loike me ter be too free uv his princerpuls ; but ye 
 kin tell John them ar' my sentimiuts — an' whar ar' John 
 now, Mary ? up thar to Barnet's Cove?" 
 
 "No, Parson," Mary replies, " 'Twar only last night 
 tliet Rube Ellis sent Billy Hawkins ter tole me ez John 
 bed got through, all sate an' sound, ter th' Union lines. 
 I was awful surry ter hev John gvro, but he 'lowed hit 
 war his duty — he say ez how when all th' rich men war a 
 gwine agin thar kentry, hit war th' bounden duty uv 
 uvery pore man ter stand up fur hit. I kinder thort ez 
 he done, but — hit ar' awful lonesome fur me an' my 
 little chil'ren witheout John." 
 
 " I kin b'lieve ye, Mary," rejoins the Parson, *' but 
 'taint fur frum yer house ter th' camp on Rich Mounting ; 
 ye kin gwo thar most ary time, an' git news of John 
 frum Reuben or th' Hawkins boys." 
 
 " 1 doan't know," she answers, " ez thar is ary camp 
 ter Rich Mounting, an' ef I done know hit, I'd nuver 
 gwo thar, fur a price are sot outer Reuben an' th' boys' 
 
A TRAGEDY. 135 
 
 heads, an' ef some un without ary soul shud betray 'em, 
 they mout lay hit ter me, an' thet wud break my heart — 
 they he V been so good ter me. Why, John an' me never cud 
 liev got in tli' crap ef they hadn't sent men ter holp us; fur 
 all th' wuck bed ter be done in one night by moonlight." 
 
 AVith questions like these the Parson plied the humble 
 recipients of his bounty, and if they had not been so very 
 simple-minded, they might have detected the motive of 
 his rare, thougli not costly, generosity — not costly to him, 
 for he merely took from the rich to give to the poor, 
 niched f]"om the meal-bao^s of the well-conditioned to fill 
 the aprons of their less fortunate neighbors. While act- 
 ing thus he could safely announce Union sentiments, for 
 he was merely furthering the designs of the Asheville 
 officials, who had supplied him with an assistant expressly 
 to afford him leisure to go about delivering meal to poor 
 women, whom his sham generosity might entrap into a 
 betrayal of their husbands. 
 
 This assistant was a stalwart, broad-shouldered fellow, 
 well enough endowed physically, but apparently deficient 
 in intellectual equipment. He had a way of mumbling 
 his words, and at times his utterances were so incoherent 
 that it was impossible to understand him. But Sukey 
 thought she detected in him indubitable evidence of sham- 
 ming, and this, coupled with liis absence on hunting excur- 
 sions directly prior to every appearance of the soldiery, led 
 her to say to Mrs. Hawkins, " He haint no natural, ma'am- 
 He ar' a spy, sent hyar ter holp the Parson ter git holt uv 
 his naboors. Doan't ye think, ma'am, th' camp had bet- 
 ter be moved ter onct from Rich Mounting? Th' Parson 
 
136 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 'spects hit ar' thar, an' lie ar' mean nuff ter sell Lis best 
 friend fur the reward ez is sot on Keuben an' th' boys." 
 The cam J) was removed, and more than ordinary care was 
 taken to prevent its new location becoming known in the 
 neighborhood. 
 
 On the 1st uf ISTovember, 1862, the conscription limit 
 was extended so as to embrace all able-bodied men under 
 the age of forty-live. This at once multiplied the num- 
 ber of *' half-faced cabins " that were scattered about upon 
 the mountains, and sent additional fugitives upon the 
 long and perilous march to the Union lines ; yet, it did not 
 materially change the aspect of this mountain community, 
 nor add to the recruits it furnished to the forces of the 
 Confederacy. Now and then a conscript was captured, 
 and forced into the ranks, but only to desert at the first 
 opportunity. 
 
 So many men had evaded both the first and second 
 conscriptions that by the winter of 1862-G3, it was foimd 
 necessary to adopt more stringent measures to augment 
 the armies of the Confederacy, and Colonel Keith was 
 ao-ain detailed to brino- into the ranks the Iviui^-out con- 
 scripts in the mountains of Tennessee and North Carolina. 
 He re-entered Madison county on January 19, 1863, and 
 then began a series of massacres which, so far as I know, 
 have had no parallel in civilized warfare on the American 
 Continent. He openly proclaimed that his men had 
 orders to shoot on sight all conscripts who did not at 
 once voluntarily report themselves at his head-quarters, 
 and enter the ranks, thereby outlawing every able-bodied 
 man in the district. 
 
A TKAGKDY. 137 
 
 If 1 were writing a history of Madison county, I should 
 now have to relate, in harrowing detail, how helpless 
 women were mercilessly beaten, and otherwise maltreated, 
 for refusing to betray their husbands and fathers, and how 
 aged men, and half -grown boys, were hanged to trees, and 
 shot down in cold blood, by the monsters Keith and Irving, 
 with attending cruelties that would have put to shame 
 an Apache savage. The atrocities shocked the Confeder- 
 ate authorities, but when they called Major Irving to 
 account for his slaughter of innocent children his only 
 reply was : " It was right to kill all the boys to prevent' 
 them from growing up to be Federal soldiers and bush- 
 whackers, for the Southern soldiers to have to fight." 
 
 The mention of these things seems necessary to show 
 what these people endured rather than deny their country, 
 or betray its friends. But I need say no more, except 
 that during four brief periods, covering, all told, less than 
 two months of time, the butcher Keith slaughtered forty- 
 seven unarmed men and harmless children, within the 
 limits of one narrow district of the Carolina mountains. 
 His acts fully justified the remark of Mrs. Hawkins to 
 Reuben Ellis, '' You can serve your country and human- 
 ity in no way so well as by helping every man and boy 
 to get away from Madison county." 
 
 When Colonel Keith reentered the district Reuben 
 Ellis was absent piloting a party of refugees into Tennes- 
 see, and Alexander Hawkins was on the eve of setting 
 out, from the new camp near the Shelton Laurel, with 
 another party of a hundred and ten men from Madison, 
 and the adjoining counties. But young Hawkins was 
 'l8 
 
138 A MOUMTAIN-WUITE HEKOINE. 
 
 cautions, as well as bold, and distrusting his ability to 
 elude, with so large a body, so watchful an enemy as 
 Colonel Keith, he delayed his departure until the return 
 of Ellis, wdio was daily and hourly expected. While he 
 was thus -waiting, Sukey rode up to the camp late one 
 day with tidings that his mother was suddenly seized with 
 a dangerous illness. As has been said, Mrs. Hawkins 
 was subject to painful attacks of neuralgia, but this 
 attack was more serious than any she had ever experienced, 
 and it wrenched her system so severely that Sukey feared 
 she could not survive it. 
 
 Without delay the three young men set out for their 
 home. They went on foot, and along by-paths, for Keith's 
 men were now in all the settlements. They found their 
 mother lying on an improvised bed in the dining-room, 
 and suffering the extremest tortures. The oldest son had 
 over her a singular magnetic influence. By holding her 
 hands in his, and putting his will intently and strongly 
 upon her, he had often brought her relief while in the 
 severest spasms. lie now sat down by her side, and 
 exerted all his powers, while his brothers stood anxiously 
 by, watching every movement of the sufferer. The strug- 
 gle was long, and for hours it seemed as if tranquillity 
 would never again revisit her torn and disordered nerves ; 
 but at last her head sank back upon her pillow,, and she 
 lay free from pain but utterly exhausted. 
 
 That mvsterious thinsr which we call life was now 
 flickering low in its socket, and the danger was that she 
 would die from sheer exhaustion. So, the young man 
 still sat by his mother's side, holding her hands, and thus 
 
A TRAGEDY. 139 
 
 giving to lier of that subtle fluid which, it may be, is the 
 connecting hnk between the soul and its earthly tenement. 
 Slowly it crept along her overstrained nerves, gradually 
 giving them the strength and tone by which they transmit 
 to the spirit correct impressions of sensible objects ; and 
 at last, just as the gray dawn began to steal through the 
 crevices of tlie carefully-closed window-shutters, she sat 
 erect in bed, and spoke with something of her accus- 
 tomed coherence and animation. 
 
 Mrs. Hawkins was now out of danger, and her sons 
 were convinced that she would experience the rapid recov- 
 ery which usually att.ends acute nervous attacks ; but, the 
 sun having risen, they deemed it unsafe to leave the 
 house until nightfall. Accordingly, the shutters of the 
 dining-room were allowed to remain closed, and directions 
 were given to the faithful woman who had served Mrs. 
 Hawkins ever since the death of her husband, to admit 
 no one to the house except Sukey. To all others she 
 was to say that her mistress could not possibly receive 
 visitors. 
 
 Soon Sukey came, but seeing that Mrs. Hawkins was 
 in no need of her services, she said she would take a lit- 
 tle food from the kitchen, and go to the barn, where, in 
 the loft, she would watch until night, to give warning in 
 case any of the soldiers should come near the dwelling. 
 l^ot long afterward the old-fashioned knocker at the hall- 
 door sounded, and Parson Justin announced that he had 
 come all the way on foot from the mill, to inquire after 
 the condition of Mrs. Haw^kins. The servant answered 
 him as she had been instructed, and he left the house, 
 
140 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 going, liowever, direct to the barn, where he very delib- 
 erately put a saddle and bridle upon the horse which 
 Sukey had ridden from the mill, and stabled by the side 
 of that of Mrs. Hawkins. This Sukey saw him do, and 
 then ride away, not by the road to their home, but in the 
 direction of Yancey county, where, some eight miles 
 away, Colonel Keith had his head-quarters. 
 
 This circumstance set Sukey to thinking. Had the 
 Parson enough concern for Mrs. Hawkins — or for any 
 human being — to induce him to trudge five miles through 
 six inches of snow merely to ascertain her condition ? 
 And, why had he gone off in the direction of the Confed- 
 erate head-quarters, when every step of his way took him 
 farther from the mill ? Had he inferred that the dan- 
 gerous illness of the mother would bring the sons to their 
 home, and, from the closed shutters, that they were then 
 actually in the dwelling? And, convinced of this, was 
 he then on his way to betray them to Colonel Keith? 
 The thought gave Sukey intense concern, and instantly 
 she came down from the hay-mow, and repaired to the 
 dwelling to tell her fears to the young men and their 
 mother. 
 
 Though she considered Sukey's estimate of Justin 
 not far from the truth, Mrs. Hawkins could not be- 
 lieve him so lost to human feelin^: as to betrav the sons 
 of a woman to whom he owed so large a debt of grati- 
 tude ; and Alexander remarked that the coming of the 
 soldiers was at the worst only a probable danger, while 
 leaving the house by daylight was a positive one, for it 
 would be impossible to escape observation in crossing the 
 
A TRAGEDY. 141 
 
 quarter of a mile of clearing which lay between the 
 house and the nearest forest. This last consideration de- 
 cided the joiing men to remain with their mother until 
 nightfall. 
 
 In the genial society of her sons Mrs. Hawkins found 
 her strength rapidly returning, and swiftly the hours 
 flew by, for they had very much to say to one another. 
 !Never before, since the war first visited the region, had 
 mother and sons passed an entire day together. At 
 length night came, and with it Sukey to remind the 
 young men that it had arrived, and to urge their immedi- 
 ate departure. This done, she set out alone to trudge on 
 foot to her home through the untrodden snow of a dense 
 forest, with neither moon nor star to lio^ht her wav. 
 
 But still the young men lingered. " Something seemed 
 to hold them," said Mrs. Hawkins to me in recounting 
 the circumstance, " and a sort of spell was on me, too. I 
 did not know, but I felt, that it was to be our last hour on 
 earth together ; and my mother's heart clung to them, and 
 would not let them go." 
 
 While they thus stood, saying their last words to one 
 another, there came a swaying in the shrubbery before 
 the house — something like the low rustle of the wind 
 among the trees — and bending her ear to the sound, the 
 mother said, ^*Do you hear that, boys? We are sur- 
 rounded." 
 
 The part of the house occupied by the dining-room 
 had been the first portion erected, and it was provided 
 with a door which opened directly from the room upon 
 the front lawn. This door was now never used, but it 
 
142 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 was not so strongly secnred as the one wliicli opened 
 from the hall. Instantly Aleck sprang to barricade it 
 with a stout oaken bar that stood beside it, saying as he 
 did so, '' I hear sounds at the rear of the house — we are 
 fully sn'rrounded — we shall have to stand our ground." 
 
 The blazing fire on the hearth, seen through the crevices 
 of the closed shutters, would reveal where the tenants of 
 the house were, and hence, against the dining-room the 
 attack was to be expected. Therefore, the entrance being 
 barricaded, four distinct apertures were made in the 
 clay -filling on its sides, near which the four defenders 
 stationed themselves, to watch, and, if assaulted, to bring 
 down the enemy. Mrs. Hawkins stood at the left of the 
 door, where, if forced, it would first open, and her young- 
 est son — still merely a boy of sixteen — was stationed 
 beside her. The moon was at the full, but dense clouds 
 obscured its liglit, casting a sort of spectral hue upon all 
 surrounding objects. Soon every bush and sapling upon 
 the lawn seemed to be in motion, and creeping slowly up 
 the slope toward the devoted dwelling. Nearer they 
 came, dim and shadow}^, till they took the form of men 
 — more than seventy in all, as this woman had the cool- 
 ness to count in that perilous moment. Directly in her 
 fi'ont, and not forty yards away, was a body of about 
 twenty, huddled closely together, and bearing among 
 them a felled tree, evidently to batter down the door of 
 the dining-room. " Halt ! " she cried, " Come one step 
 nearer, and some of you are dead men." 
 
 No heed was given to her summons ; the platoon moved 
 forward a step or two, and then four rifles cracked, and 
 
A TRAGEDY. 143 
 
 five souls passed into eternity — two sent there by one 
 bullet. 
 
 Then a yell went up that shook the hillside, and a 
 volley poured into the beleaguered dwelling. All but 
 one of the bullets buried themselves in the logs of the 
 house — that one struck the clay-filling near the door- way, 
 and entered the body of the boy who stood there beside 
 his mother. He uttered a sudden cry, pressed his hand to 
 his side, and sinking down at her feet, said only, '' Oh, 
 mother ! " 
 
 She clutched him in her arms, tried to stanch the blood 
 that spurted over her clothing, and th^en, bending her face 
 down to his, kissed him upon the forehead, saying, " God is 
 calling for you, my son ! He is taking from me my baby." 
 
 " I know, mother," gasped the boy, " but I shall die 
 like a man." 
 
 " Don't think of that, or of me now," she said, press- 
 ing her lips again to his forehead, ^' Think only of Jesus, 
 the infinite Saviour." 
 
 "Yes, mother," faltered the boy, "Good hye — give 
 the Rebels another shot, mother." 
 
 Then his head fell back, and he was gone from the 
 sound of human conflict. She closed his eyes, and kissed 
 again his forehead ; then she rose to her feet, reloaded 
 her rifle, and gave that other shot to tlie Rebels. Mean- 
 while the other young men had reloaded, and fired their 
 guns, and the assaulting party had fallen back, evidently 
 disconcerted bv the determined resistance. 
 
 Half an hour followed during which the besieged 
 neither saw nor heard any thing of their enemy, and they 
 
144: A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 were beginning to think thej had beaten them off, when 
 suddenly the four corners of the roof above their heads 
 were seen to be in a blaze. The building had been fired, 
 and to this they could make no resistance. Nothing re- 
 mained for the survivors but to run the gantlet of their 
 enemies. Giving one look to her dead son, and one prayer 
 to the God in whom she trusted, Mrs. Hawkins unbarred 
 the door, and, followed by her two sons, sprang out into 
 the darkness. 
 
 Dense shrubbery grew about the house, but it was fifty 
 feet away, and before it could be reached the three would 
 be a fair mark for more than sixty muskets. Mrs. Hawk- 
 ins gained the shelter of the bushes in safety, but her two 
 sons were shot down when not more than ten paces from 
 the dwelling. " I saw them fall," she said to me, " and 
 1 knew there was no hope for them, for those men would 
 have taken their lives, even if tliey had surrendered." 
 
 Shielded from sight by the shrubbery, she made her 
 way to the barn, and once behind it, was safe in the 
 darkness. 
 
 In fleeing thus from instant death, Mrs. Hawkins had 
 merely obeyed the instinct of self-j) reservation ; but that 
 instinct momentarily appeased, her other faculties could 
 assert themselves. But the mother-feeling was not the 
 first to awake, bringing to her a full sense of her great 
 bereavement, and her now absolute loneliness. It was 
 her strong brain ; and it now asked, " Why has the 
 Lord taken them, who are men, and left me, who am 
 only a woman, and can do so little for my country?" 
 This, she told me, was her first thouglit, and the event 
 
A TRAGEDY. 14:5 
 
 was to her at first a mvsterv. "But afterward," she 
 remarked, " I saw into His ways more clearly; and it 
 is certain that the murder of my boys, who were beloved 
 by everyone, did more than any thing else to convince 
 the mountain people that death was better than life, when 
 subject to the rule of such wretches as Colonel Keith. 
 It shamed the time-serving, and aroused the timid and 
 lukewarm till they were eager to fight, and if need be, to 
 die, for the Union. My manly boys were the sacrifice 
 required to arouse a whole people to a full sense of their 
 duty, and so, I bowed my head to the will of God. Ah ! 
 Sir, but it was a bitter struggle ! Pray God you may 
 never know such a heart-wrenching." 
 
 Protected by the darkness, Mrs. Hawkins made her 
 slow way through the lately-fallen snow to a mountain- 
 shelf, about a fourth of a mile from her dwelling. She 
 was thinly clad, and it was one of the coldest nights in 
 January, but there she paused to look back at her burn- 
 ing dwelling. She saw the flames leaping high above the 
 roof, lapping up with remorseless greed lier valued books, 
 and the many other precious memorials of her dead hus- 
 band. As this irretrievable loss occurred to her she felt 
 a momentary pang ; but soon she thought of the poor 
 serving-woman, who, like herself, had been cast out upon 
 the winter night, homeless, and with not so much as a 
 temporary shelter. Doubtless she had escaped from the 
 burning house, but what neighbor would face the wrath 
 of Colonel Keith by giving a refuge to one of her family ? 
 
 This thought troubled her as she stood there in the cold 
 night, and watched — but scarcely heeded — the caving 
 19 
 
146 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 in of the roof, the falling down of the walls, and the 
 gradnal sinking of the flames as they devoured all her 
 earthly treasures. As she gazed she lived over again her 
 life in that ruined dwelling — she recalled the eager zeal 
 with which her husband and herself had entered upon 
 their work among those mountain people ; the sad day 
 when she laid all that was mortal of him away in a lonely 
 grave upon the hillside ; the anxious care with which she 
 had striven to guide aright the opening minds of her 
 sons ; the daily joy she had experienced when she saw 
 them growing up manl}^, upright, God-fearing men, and 
 the assured trust she had felt that they would be the 
 stay of her decHning years, and would at the last lay her 
 tenderly away in that grass-grown grave by the side of her 
 husband. All this came back to her as she stood there 
 in the bitter night, homeless, childless, alone ! But was 
 she alone? Was not One with her who had Himself 
 known every human sorrow ? A voice within her seemed 
 to whisper that He was, and sinking to her knees in the 
 snow, she stretched out her arms to the clouded sky, and 
 cried, " Dear Lord, be with me ; sustain me ; comfort 
 me ! " She had no sooner uttered the words tlian a 
 strons: lio^ht seemed to break around her, and she became 
 so vividly conscious of an invisible, uplifting presence 
 that all else appeared as nothingness ; and rising above 
 the loss of her home, and even of her children, she 
 turned her back upon the burning pile, and strode for- 
 ward into the snow-covered forest. 
 
 But now she began to be sensible to the cold which 
 was striking upon her thinly-clad person, and chilling 
 
A TRAGEDY, 14:7 
 
 her through and tlirongh. She must find shelter, for 
 weakened as she was by recent ilhiess, she could not long 
 survive if thus exposed till morning. She would gladly 
 have died ; but she had no right to die while her life 
 could be preserved by any effort of her own — and 
 the sense of right was the strongest element in her 
 nature. So she strode forward through the forest, fully 
 conscious that her every onward step was removing to a 
 remoter day a joyful reunion with her husband and 
 children. 
 
 At first she could call to mind no safe place of shelter; 
 for in any of the neighbors' houses she would be exposed 
 to capture by Colonel Keith and his soldiers. But soon 
 it occurred to her that not far away, on the mountain- 
 shelf where she was, stood a deserted cabin, to which 
 no one ventured because it was thought to be haunted. 
 The cabin had been the home of a worthless vagabond, 
 who, along with his much-suffering wife, had suddenly 
 disappeared a few years previous, leaving his few house- 
 hold possessions behind him. The general belief was 
 that he had fled after committing a terrible crime, for 
 directly after his absence became known, there began to 
 issue from the house at night piercing cries and moans, 
 as of a woman in distress. It was thouo^ht by these su- 
 perstitious people that the woful sounds were from the 
 spirit of the murdered wife, and, not even to secure the 
 abandoned furniture, would they enter the deserted dwell- 
 ino^. 
 
 The house had, in truth, a spectral appearance. It was 
 moss-grown, and fast falling to decay, and the spot whereon 
 
148 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 it stood was the wildest and dreariest of the entire 
 mountain. A naked chff, overtopping its very roof, rose 
 directly in its rear, on one side was a grove of sombre 
 hemlocks, and on the other, a ledge of perpendicular 
 rock, skirting the margin of the rapid streamlet that 
 flowed througli the grounds of Mrs. Hawkins. The land 
 in front, sloping down to the high-road, had once been 
 cultivated, but now was overgrown with tangled thickets 
 of laurel and ivy, which plainly told that the place had 
 no human occupant. 
 
 The moon had struggled from behind the dense masses 
 of gray cloud while Mrs. Hawkins was making her slow 
 way through the forest, and it shone full and clear upon 
 the deserted cabin when she waded through the deep 
 drift that choked its open door-way. The one room 
 had a cheerless and desolate aspect. In places the floor 
 had rotted away, and everywhere it was strewn with 
 decayed leaves blown in by the autumn winds. One of 
 the windows was entirely open, and underneath it the 
 snow had drifted, and it also lay several inches deep upon 
 the broad hearthstone. Open as the cabin was it would 
 afford only a wretched shelter, but behind the door, 
 and shielded from the cold wind, was a straw bed, piled 
 high with wolf and panther skins. Without attempting 
 to close either door or window, Mrs. Hawkins removed 
 her sodden shoes, crept into this bed, and buried 
 herself deep under the thick skins with which it was 
 covered. 
 
 After a time warmth returned to her chilled limbs, but 
 she did not fall asleep, nor was she preternaturally wake- 
 
A TKAGEDY. 149 
 
 fill. She had been like one who has received a sudden 
 blow upon the head, which, while not depriving him of con- 
 sciousness, forces his brain to intense, but abrupt and dis- 
 jointed action. !Now her mind had resumed somewhat of 
 its natural balance, and she had begun to see things in 
 their i-ight relations, and to realize her utter loneliness, 
 and the appalling bereavement that had befallen her. As 
 she did so, intense gloom settled upon her spirit. She 
 seemed to herself to be absolutely isolated from her kind 
 — a solitary soul in a wide universe of darkness. And, 
 as if in sympathy mth the feeling w^ithin her, the 
 world without became shrouded in a gloom that was 
 simply and literally terrible. Thick clouds gathered again 
 over the sky, shutting out moon and stars, and coming 
 down in heavv flakes of snow which loaded all the atmos- 
 phere. Soon, too, a high wind arose, shaking the decayed 
 logs of the ruined cabin, and screaming and howling 
 through the forest like voices from some infernal realm 
 of endless strife and disorder. As she listened she be- 
 gan to question if there is any light, or jDeace, or joy, or 
 goodness, in all the w'ide creation. Is not this world, she 
 thought, wholly given over to wickedness ? Do not evil 
 men — fiends in human shape — devoid alike of justice, 
 mercy, and pity, rule and riot in it ; and, if they rule in 
 this world, do they not also in the other world, for thither 
 evil men go, and can the mere laying off of the body 
 change their natures ? So, bad men become devils, and 
 may it not be true that they return to earth, mingle again 
 in human affairs and make their abodes in such desolate 
 places as this lonely and blood-stained cabin ? 
 
150 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 While these thouglits were in her mind there came a 
 sudden sound as of a heavy body falling upon the roof, 
 followed by a sharp crash, and piercing cries that rent the 
 outer air, and were answered by low moans, as of a woman 
 in distress, coming from the opposite end of the room in 
 which she was lying. Nothing she had ever heard was 
 like these moans, so sepulchral were they, so unearthly, 
 so diabolical. They must be, she thought, the utterance 
 of demons, and in sudden terror, she raised herself upon 
 her elbow, and prayed to the God who had never failed 
 her. As she prayed her native courage came back, 
 and, turning toward the corner whence the sounds pro- 
 ceeded, she said in a firm voice, *' Whatever you are, 
 spirit or devil, leave me — leave me alone Avith my sor- 
 row." While she yet spoke the sharp cry rose again upon 
 the outer air, and an answering moan came from within 
 the apartment. Then a swift rush of feet sounded across 
 the floor, and all again was silence. 
 
 She laid her head again upon her pillow of skins, ut- 
 tered another prayer, and then, thoroughly exhausted with 
 all she had undergone, she sank into a deep slumber. 
 When she awoke the gray morning was streaming through 
 the open door and window, and looking about the room, 
 her attention was at once attracted to the liuge fire-place 
 now completely choked with snow. This explained the 
 sudden crash upon the roof. A snow-slide from tlie 
 overhanging ledge had fallen upon it, and entirely filled 
 the chimney. 
 
 Then she rose, and, going to the door, she saw an ex- 
 planation of the other ghostly phenomena in the track of 
 
A TRAGEDY. 151 
 
 some wild animal coming down the ledge, and in tliat of 
 another issuing from the door-way of the cabin. She had 
 intruded upon the lair of a brace of either wild cats or 
 panthers. These were the only evil spirits which had 
 disturbed her repose, but they were kinder than those in 
 human form, for they had left her in peace — " alone with 
 her sorrow." 
 
162 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE IIEiiOINE. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A BURIAL BY TORCHLIGHT. 
 
 "Whoever has suddenly lost a dear friend knows how 
 hard it is, in the first days of bereavement, to realize 
 that the lost one is dead ; and he will remember that this 
 is especially so, just after his awakening in the morning, 
 when the mind — not yet in full possession of its scattered 
 faculties, and moving in its accustomed groove — instinct- 
 ively recalls the dead as still living, subject to the accidents 
 of life, and claiming our wonted care and solicitude. 
 
 So it was with Mrs. Hawkins when, she awoke in that 
 desolate cabin, and looked out upon the dreary scene below 
 her. Every object in field and forest was shrouded in a 
 thick mantle of snow, except one solitary spot, where a 
 heap of charred, and still smouldering logs, reminded her 
 of the tragic events of the previous night. All the terri- 
 ble tragedy then came back to her — the dying words of 
 her youngest boy, the fall of her older sons ; and she 
 realized again that " there was no hope for them." Yet, 
 she could not "make them dead." She fancied them 
 still sensible to pain, still suffering from the bitter cold 
 to which their bodies had been exposed through all the 
 long hours of that winter night. Her first impulse was 
 to hasten to their relief; and, wrapping about her a wolf- 
 skin robe which she found in the deserted cabin, she set 
 out through the drifts for her ruined home. 
 
A BURIAL BY TORCHLIGHT. 153 
 
 The snow had extinguished the flames, but the fire was 
 etil] eating away at the logs, and sending out dense vol- 
 umes of black smoke, which enveloped the ruins, and 
 almost blinded her sight ; but, groping about among the 
 many di'ifts the wind had raised, she at last came upon 
 two small heaps of snow under which lay the bodies of 
 her older sons. Their faces were upturned to the morn- 
 ing light, and upon them both was an eager, expectant look, 
 as if on their waning sight had risen a dim vision of the 
 life hereafter. That look recalled her fully to herself, and 
 made real to her, for the first time, that her boys were 
 no longer sensible to cold, or pain, or any form of human 
 suffering, except, it might be, grief at leaving their mother 
 to meet alone the rude buffetings of this lower world. 
 
 She kneeled down, and kissed their cold lips; and 
 then rose and went to the barn, which was still standing 
 undisturbed — for the motive of the assailants had been 
 murder, and not robbery, or wanton destruction. She 
 did not seek for the body of her youngest son. As he 
 had fallen while in the house, she knew that his remains 
 lay under those burning logs, and, if ever recovered, 
 would be merely a blackened mass, undistinguishable as 
 a human form. The thought gave her a sudden pang, 
 but it passed away when she reflected that her beloved 
 boy was already clothed upon with a body from heaven, 
 ethereal, resplendent, immortal. 
 
 At the barn the horse gave her his usual greeting ; and 
 when she patted him upon the neck, and spoke kindly to 
 him, he responded with more than his accustomed cordi- 
 ality. Doubtless, she was more than ordinarily gentle 
 20 
 
154 A MOUNTAIN- WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 with the animal, and he made onlj the natural return to 
 her caresses ; but still, she thought that he strove to make 
 her feel that he sympathized with her distress. When 
 one is suffering the loss of some human love, is there not 
 a certain kind of solace in the affection of even a dumb 
 creature ? She waited for the horse to eat his morning 
 provender, then, harnessing him to a sled, she lifted the 
 bodies of her sons upon it, and conveyed them to the 
 barn, where she laid them upon the floor, and covered 
 them with blankets. 
 
 Removing then the harness, she put a saddle and bridle 
 upon the animal, and, carefully fastening the barn, rode 
 down the path to the highway. By this time a number 
 of people — women and children, and a few old men — 
 had collected about the ruins. They greeted her kindly 
 and considerately ; but asked no questions, and she made 
 no remarks — they appeared to know already the whole 
 horrid history. As she passed out of the gate-way, an 
 aged woman who was coming up the road, paused di- 
 rectly in her path, and said to her, '' Mornin', Mrs. Hawk- 
 ins. Ye 'ortent ter be a ridin' off with nary kiver ter 
 yer head. Tuck my bunnet. I wish ye wud, I've an- 
 other ter home." With this she held out a thick quilted 
 hood for Mrs. Hawkins's acceptance. 
 
 As she took it, she said, " Well, Betty, I will take 
 it — the morning is cold." 
 
 She had been without any covering to her head since 
 she had fled from her burning dwelling. 
 
 Her only thought now was to give the bodies of her 
 two sons suitable interment. But who could she get to 
 
A EUEIAL BY TORCH LIGIJT. 155 
 
 dig their grave, and do the other offices of the sad cere- 
 mony ? The miscreant Keith had hanged aged women 
 by the neck till they were nearly dead, for no other of- 
 fense than beffo^ino^ of him the bodies of their slaughtered 
 sous; and might he not do this by her, or even worse — 
 deprive her of liberty, and thus prevent her attending to 
 their burial ? Evidently she must go forward with cau- 
 tion, for at any turn in the road she might come upon a 
 party of Keith's myrmidons. Then it occurred to her 
 that Sukey was competent to make all the necessary ar- 
 rangements, and could come and go without being mo- 
 lested. She would ride to the mill, and ask of her that 
 service in the emergency. 
 
 She had scarcel}^ come to this resolution, when, looking 
 np the road, she saw, coming toward her, about twenty of 
 Keith's soldiers. They were riding rapidly, and would 
 Very soon be abreast of her. There was no avoiding 
 them, so she rode forward, hoping that in her unusual 
 attire she could pass them without recognition. But 
 she fcrgot that her horse, if not her garments, would 
 identify her ; and this the animal must have done, for be- 
 fore her features, hidden by her hood, were distinguish- 
 able, the squad halted in the highway. She felt sure of 
 being arrested, but she rode steadily forward. 
 
 The sergeant who has been already mentioned, was 
 at the head of the troop, and as she came near, he re- 
 moved his cap, saying, " Pardon me, Mrs. Hawkins, if I 
 detain you long enough to say how deeply we sympathize 
 with you in your great affliction. We are the men who 
 were once quartered at your dwelling, and there is not 
 
156 A MOUNTAIN- WHITE HEKOINE. 
 
 one of US who would not willingly give his own blood to 
 bring your sons back to life. We all esteem you very 
 highly." 
 
 " I thank you, Mr. Sergeant," she said. " I thank all 
 of you ^— I feared you were about to arrest me, and that 
 would have prevented my attending to the burial of my 
 sons. Will you tell me if any orders are out to interfere 
 with me?" 
 
 " I know of none," answered the sergeant, " and if any 
 should be given, I think they would not be obeyed. 
 There is a point beyond which a man will not go, orders 
 or no orders. We have to report at once to head-quarters, 
 or we would stay by, and protect you." 
 
 " I thank you, gentlemen," she said. " I cannot tell 
 you the comfort your kind words give me. You have 
 good hearts, if you do serve a bad cause ; but that, I 
 trust, will be forgiven you." 
 
 As she passed on all the men removed their caps, and 
 they stood there uncovered till she was some distance down 
 the high-road. 
 
 She was at the mill in less than an hour, and, going di- 
 rectly into the living apartments, found Sukey clearing 
 away the breakfast table. Disguised as slie was b}^ her 
 unwonted apparel, Sukey did not at once recognize her; 
 as soon as she did, she exclaimed, '* Why, Mrs. Hawkins ! 
 Ar' hit- ye? Why, how pale an' porely ye luck, ma'am. 
 Come, an' sit ye down by th' fire, and warm yerself. 
 What has bruns' ve out uv so cold a mornin' ? " 
 
 " Did you not see the fire on the mountain last night, 
 Sukey ? " asked Mrs. Hawkins. 
 
A BURIAL BY TORCHLIGHT. 157 
 
 " Yar, ma'am,'- said Sukej. "I seed hit, an' I won 
 dered what pore man th' varmints was a burnin' out now." 
 
 "It was my home, Sukey, and I have come to ask you 
 to help me about the burial of my sons." 
 
 " Yer sons, ma' am ? ' ' exclaimed Sukey. " Killed ? Oh j 
 doan't ye say hit — fur th' love uv th' good Lord, doan't 
 ye say hit," and she sank into a chair, and looked appeal- 
 ingly at Mrs. Hawkins. 
 
 "I have to say it, Sukey dear," said Mrs. Hawkins, 
 controlling herself by a strong effort. " They are all 
 murdered." 
 
 " All ! " echoed Sukey, swaying her body back and forth, 
 and speaking in broken sentences. " Aleck, an' Benny, an' 
 Billy-Boy — all! all! Them as I so loved — loike cz ef 
 they was my own ! All dead ! killed — murdered ! " 
 
 As she uttered the last word she sprang suddenly to 
 her feet, and striding toward an inner door, exclaimed 
 " An' he done hit ! He shill answer fur hit." Saying 
 this, she darted quickly from the room — too quickly for 
 Mrs. Hawkins to have detained her, had that been her 
 intention. 
 
 Sukey 's manner was violent, and it boded harm to 
 Justin; but the passage she had to traverse was long, and 
 her good angel was with her on the way, for when she 
 returned, her excitement had vanished, and her bearing 
 was calm, though stem, and determined — something like 
 that of a judge who, with no feeling for or against a 
 criminal, is about to pass upon him an irrevocable sen- 
 tence. Justin preceded her by a step or two in entering 
 the apartment. 
 
158 A MOUNTAIN- WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 Mrs. Hawkins had removed her hood, and let the wolf- 
 skin fall from her shoulders, and as she now sat by the 
 fire, she was face to face with the Parson; but she gave 
 him no sign of recognition. She looked at him, but did 
 not appear to see him. He sank into a chair, his eyes 
 riveted upon hers, and either the singularity of her man- 
 ner, or some intuition of what was coming, drove the 
 blood from his face, till its usual sallow hue was chanored 
 to a sickly pallor. Sukey was the first to speak. 
 Standing directly in front of Justin, her features set as 
 hard as flint, her great eyes glowing like burning coals, 
 and looking him through and through, she said, " Robert 
 Justin — der yer knows this lady?" 
 
 *'I does, Sukey," he stammered, '• Hit ar' Mrs. Hawkins." 
 
 "An' fur all uv twent}^ year she hev been dreiful 
 good ter ye, haint she ? — larned ye ter read, guv ye vittles 
 an' clo'es when ye had nary, an' finerly got ye th' place 
 in the meetin', so ye mout be as lazy ez ye loiked. Haint 
 she done all this?" 
 
 " Yas, Sukey," he answered, taking his eyes from Mrs. 
 Hawkins, and trembling visibly, " Mrs. Hawkins has done 
 all thet — an' more'n thet." 
 
 " An' how has 3^e paid her ? " 
 
 "I haint paid her," he stammered, "I doan't never 
 'spect I kin pay her." 
 
 " Ye lie, Robert Justin," said Suke_y, in the same cold, 
 flinty tone, her great eyes still blazing upon him, " Ye has 
 paid her ! Ye has sold her sons to Gunnel Keith. Fur 
 a few dirty rags ez ye calls money, ye has murdered her 
 boys — all she had in th' world." 
 
A BCRIAL BY TORCHLIGHT. 159 
 
 He crouched down in his chair, covered his face with 
 his hands, and moaned audibly. After a few moments, 
 he said, "Oh! doan't je say thet, Sukey — doan't ye 
 say thet." 
 
 ** I does say hit," said Sukey, " an' I say ter ye, too, 
 thet in tuckin' them boys from thar mother, ye tuck 
 them from me ; an' they was loike they was my own. 
 They and she was all I hed ter love in th' world. If 
 she hadn't teach ed me better, I shud ax God now ter 
 curse ye fur hit, an' He wud curse ye if 1 shud ax Him. 
 But, I shan't. I leave Him ter do with ye as He loikes. 
 Hit haint 'case I loathe ye thet fur more'n ten yere I 
 haint been yer wife ; but 'case th' little good thar's in me 
 cudn't mate with th' evil thet's in ye. But I didn't 
 know ye was so evil. I tho't ye mout be helped ; but 
 now, I see ye can't, an' I guv ye up. Go, put th' sad- 
 dle ou th' hoss, an' bring him ter th' door, while I gits 
 my few things together. An' mind what I say, never 
 agin do ye come whar I ar' — ef ye does, I won't be 
 'sponsible fur what'll happen." 
 
 The strongest element in this man's nature was love 
 for that woman. Through long years he had hoped to 
 win her back to him ; and the thought that if his condi- 
 tion were bettered she might return to him, may have 
 led him, for a filthy reward, to betray the Hawkins boys. 
 Now he sat as one stunned, mumbling, "Why Sukey! 
 ye won't leave me ? " 
 
 She made him no reply, and then he turned to Mrs. 
 Hawkins, " Ye doan't b'lieve, ma'am," he said, " thet 
 1 murdered yer boys ? " 
 
160 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 "I do not think you intended to murder them,'' she 
 answered^ scarcely looking at him. " I believe you be- 
 trayed them to Colonel Keith, and in j^our greed for the 
 reward, you didn't stop to consider that in doing so you 
 would' cause their deaths. But you knew they would die 
 rather than be captured. Their blood is on your hands, 
 Robert Justin." 
 
 He covered his face again, and again moaned audibly. 
 A few moments passed, no one speaking. Then Sukey 
 said, in a husky, suppressed voice, " Eobert Justin, thar's 
 a devil ez is a tellin' me ye haint fit ter live, an' I orter 
 to put ye out o' th' world. I've been a struggliii' agin 
 him ever sence I know'd ye had killed th' boys; an' ef 
 ye doan't git th' boss an' let me go ter onct, he mout git 
 th' upper hand uv me. So gwo ter onct — this instant." 
 
 Justin saw that she was dangerous, and, without a 
 word, he rose and left the apartment. 
 
 Sukey had some thick garments which she wore only 
 on special occasions, and in these she now insisted upon 
 arraying Mrs. Hawkins. This done, and some few arti- 
 cles gathered into a small bundle, she led the way out to 
 the high-road, where, at the hitching rail, stood her horse 
 by the side of that of Mrs. Hawkins. Justin was not 
 there nor, so far as I know, did Sukey ever meet him 
 afterward. 
 
 As they rode on over the drifted snow Sukey said to 
 Mrs. Hawkins, " I'se a thinkin' ma'am, 'bout th' burial 
 of th' pore boys. Thar' haint nary uns 'cept old men 
 round, and they'll be afeared ter holp ye, sence thet 
 butcher, Keith, hev donesech things up ter Shelton Laurel. 
 
A BURIAL BY TORCHLIGHT. 161 
 
 But up ter the camp tliar's more'n a hundred men, an' 
 every one uv 'em wud die fur ye, if they know'd wliat's 
 happened ter th' boys. 'Sides, they has looked fur 
 Eeuben ter be back 'fore now." 
 
 This suggestion commended itself to Mrs. Hawkins, 
 and at once the two women rode forward to the camp of 
 the refugees, which was high up on Spring Mountain, 
 a few miles to tlie north of the SheUon Laureh A heavy 
 storm liad again set in before they reached the base of 
 the mountain, and by the time they began its ascent, tlie 
 snow was falling so thickly that the path was com- 
 pletely hidden, and objects fifty yards distant, were only 
 obscurely -visible ; but Sukey had been over the route on 
 several occasions, and her familiar acquaintance with the 
 forest enabled her to find their way without difficulty. 
 
 The camp consisted of about forty " half-faced cabins " 
 — temporary structures formed by setting two upright 
 poles, notched at the upper ends, firmly into the earth, 
 and stretching a horizontal pole from one to the other, at 
 about the height of a man's head, from which other 
 poles sloped diagonally to the ground. Three sides of 
 these cabins are usually covered with blankets or buffalo- 
 robes, the front being left open ; but often the four sides 
 are inclosed, and then the cabin is a full protection against 
 wind and weather. 
 
 The encam23ment of the refugees was approachable 
 only over very steep and rugged ground, but the camp 
 itself was on a level space, covered with gigantic oaks 
 and poplars, and just at its rear, rising above the tops 
 of these trees, was an abrupt ledge of rocks, accessible to 
 21 
 
162 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 not more than half-a-dozen men at a time, and which a 
 hundred could hold against a thousand. This was the 
 citadel of the encampment, to which it was intended that 
 the refugees should resort if assailed by greatly superior 
 numbers. 
 
 When the two women had arrived within about two hun- 
 dred yards of this stronghold, they were hailed by a voice 
 from among the trees, with ''Halt! who comes there?" 
 
 " Friends,'' answered Sukey, vainly trying to catch a 
 glimpse of the man through the thick-falling snow. 
 
 '' Advance, friends, and give the countersign," responded 
 the voice. 
 
 "We uns'll advance," answered Sukey, " an' guv ye 
 th' countersign — ef ye'll tell us what hit ar'. Bat you 
 uns needn't be afeard uv two wimmin — we wudn't do 
 ye a hurt fnr th' world." 
 
 " We don't believe you would," said the voice, now 
 right at her elbow. " What can have brought you out in 
 such a storm, Mrs. Justin ? " 
 
 " Ter see th' cap'n," answered Sukey. " Hev he got 
 back ter th' camp ? ' ' 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, not more'n an hour ago ; " said the man, 
 "but he had a mighty narrow escape from Keith's men. 
 They knew he was coming, and set traps for him all 
 along the line. Twelve of them surrounded him on the 
 Little Bald only the night before last ; but he laid out 
 four or five, and put the rest to tliar heels. But, he'd have 
 been a dead captain, if it hadn't been for the three six- 
 teen-shooters he was bringing along for the Hawkins 
 boys. He's all worn out, but he'll see yoiiP 
 
A BUKTAL BY TORCHLIGHT. 163 
 
 The cabin of Ellis was somewhat larger, and better 
 furnished, then the others. In one corner was a bed, 
 supported on a frame of saplings, in another, a rude table, 
 and scattered about the ground — wd:iich was covered with 
 deer and bear skins — were a number of rustic seats, fash- 
 ioned like camp-stooLs. On a rack against the rear wall 
 were four sixteen-shooting Henry carbines, three of them 
 evidently new, but already smeared with gunpowder. On 
 the table were some plates, and broken food, the remains 
 of Ellis's breakfast. 
 
 He w'as resting upon the bed, when, unannounced, Mrs. 
 Hawkins entered the cabin. Springing at once to his feet, 
 he grasped her by the hand, saying, " I am so glad to see 
 you. But what brings you here in this storm? And the 
 boys — the men tell me they have been away nearly three 
 days. I hope nothing has happened to them." 
 
 "They are dead, Keuben," she answered, slowdy and 
 deliberately. " They are all dead." 
 
 He staggered back a step or two, put his hand to his 
 forehead, and exclaimed, " Dead ! It can't be true ! All 
 dead ? " 
 
 " It is true, Reuben," she said, in the same subdued 
 tone. " They are all dead — shot dowm befoi-e my very 
 eyes." 
 
 As now he looked at her his eyes seemed starting from 
 their sockets, his great chest heaved, and clasping his two 
 hands above his head, he cried out, eacli separate word a 
 distinct utterance of agony. " My God ! — my God ! — 
 Dead ! The boys dead, and I alive to hear it ! " 
 
 Then he sank upon one of the stools, and looked out 
 
164 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 witli a fixed, A^acaiit stare upon the falling snow. But 
 he seemed to see nothmg — to be unconscious of even 
 her presence. While one might count a hundred he 
 sat thus — lost, dazed, bewildered. Then he rose to 
 his feet, and taking both her hands in his, he said to 
 her with a look of unutterable tenderness, " And yoio 
 to be so afflicted — you whose whole life has been given 
 to others, who have been so good to me, to all — you to 
 be left alone, with no one to love or to care for jou ! Oh, 
 madam ! Let me love you — let me watch over you, let 
 me be your son, let Phebe be your daughter, let our h'ttle 
 boys be your children, till you go to your own noble boys 
 in a better world than this is." With his last words a 
 great cry broke from her, and throwing her arms about 
 his neck, she sank weeping upon his breast. 
 
 My summer home is where I look down upon a beautiful 
 lake ; and, going there in a backward Spring, I often see it 
 entirely overspread with sheeted ice. Thus it has been 
 before the sun has risen much above the opposite moun- 
 tains, but when scarcely an hour has passed, and the warm 
 rays have come down in their full power, I have seen the 
 ice suddenly sink into the bosom of the lake, leaving it a 
 broad expanse of glistening water reflecting the warm sun 
 and the blue skv above. So was it with Mrs. Hawkins. 
 The icy self-restraint in which she had been held, melted 
 suddenly away in the warmth of this man's unselfish affec- 
 tion, and once more her soul opened itself to the sunshine 
 of humam sympathy and human love. Until this moment 
 she had not shed a tear, but now the waters were unbound, 
 and she wept unrestrainedly. 
 
A BUEIAL BY TORCHLIGHT. 165 
 
 She sank upon one of the rude stools, and Reuben sat 
 down bj her side, holding her hand in silence. Sukey, 
 meanwhile, had stood by with streaming eyes, but now, 
 falling on her knees at Mrs. Hawkins's feet, she threw 
 her arms about her, and exclaimed, " An' I will love ye, 
 ma'am. I'se allers loved ye ; but now I'll wuck fur ye, 
 I'll live fur ye, I'll die fur ye — an' I'll never leave ye." 
 
 " And you shall not live any longer in this constant 
 fear," said Keuben. "I'll take you, .and Phebe and the 
 children, and Sukey, too, if she'll go, and at the Xortli 
 we'll live in peace together." 
 
 J^ow, for the first time, Mrs. Hawkins found her utter- 
 ance. " Oh, no ! dear Reuben," she said, " we won't do 
 that. Our duty is here. Here you can do more than 
 you could possibly do" in the Korth. But, the loving 
 words of both of you are an inexpressible comfort to 
 me. God is verv ^rood to trive me two such true hearts 
 
 t« C* CD 
 
 as yours." 
 
 The storm continued, but soon trustv men were mounted 
 upon the half-dozen horses that were in the encampment, 
 and dispatched in various directions, to ascertain the exact 
 position of Keith's forces. Before many hours they all 
 returned, reporting that each separate squad within a 
 radius of five miles of the Hawkins plantation, had been 
 seen b}^ the country people, early that morning, moving 
 in the direction of Keith's head-quarters. This indicated 
 that the Confederate commander was concentrating his 
 men, either to attack the refugees in their camp, or to 
 move his entire force to the more easterly counties. 
 
166 A MOUNTAIN-WniTE HEROINE. 
 
 AYhichever course he might pursue, Ellis decided to break 
 camp, and march with all his men to the Hawkins home- 
 stead. Keith outnumbered him four to one, but every 
 one of his men was inflamed to fury by the slaughter of 
 the Hawkins bovs, and willincr to risk his life in ffivins: 
 them suitable burial. Taking account of the spirit of 
 the refugees, the strength of the opposing forces was 
 therefore not so very unequal. 
 
 Thev beejan their march about an hour before sunset. 
 The snow was no longer falling, but it lay a foot in depth 
 upon the ground, and the lowering sky presaged another 
 storm, with a night of intense darkness ; but the men 
 pressed on over the sharp rocks, and untrodden snow, as 
 eagerly as if they had been bound to a wedding, rather 
 than a burial, and a possible encounter with largely 
 superior numbers. Because of her knowledge of the 
 route, Sukey, with a couple of mounted men, led the way ; 
 directly behind her rode Mrs. Hawkins and Ellis, and then 
 followed the main body, marching four abreast, with flank- 
 ers, and a rear-guard. ISTo attack was expected on the 
 route, nor before the men had arrived at the homestead, 
 and the burial was over ; but strict silence was enjoined, 
 and the pine torches the men carried were not ignited. 
 
 About an hour after sunset the troop wound up the 
 steep road that led to the burned dwelling. The snow had 
 completely extinguished the fire, and the wdiole mountain- 
 side was now shrouded in thick darkness. The few 
 among the men who' were mounted, being sent up and 
 down the road to give w^arning of any hostile approach, 
 the remainder lighted their torches, and set to work to 
 
A BURIAL BY TORCHLIGHT. 167 
 
 remove the half -burned logs that had fallen into the cellar 
 of the ruined dwelling; for Mrs. Hawkins had expressed 
 a wish to have the bodies of her sons buried together, and 
 the remains of her youngest were somewhere underneath 
 those blackened timbers. 
 
 While the larger number were thus employed, the few 
 carpenters who were in the troop were engaged in con- 
 structing cotiins for the older sons from the boards of a 
 feed-bin at the barn. Sukey remained at the barn with 
 these carpenters, but Mrs. Hawkins sat her horse be- 
 side the ruins, watching with eager eyes each charred log 
 as it was lifted from the choked-up cellar. At last when 
 every timber had been removed, and nothing found bear- 
 ing even a faint resemblance to a human form, a dozen 
 torches were lowered into the vault, and every heap of 
 cinders was closely examined. Still, nothing was discov- 
 ered that could be identified as the remains of the brave 
 boy, but recently so keenly alive w^ith youth, and hope, 
 and manly ambition. When all search was found to be 
 vain, Mrs. Hawkins said to Ellis, " Tiie body of my baby 
 boy is here, Reuben, and I want my sons buried together. 
 Let us lay them all here — let their old home be their 
 
 grave." 
 
 It was done as she suggested. On a designated spot in 
 the vault a crib was made by placing the larger and 
 sounder logs one upon another in the form of a square ; 
 and into this square were then lowered the coffins of the 
 older brothers. Then, at a signal given by Ellis, all 
 the men gathered around the vault, forming a circle of 
 which he and Mrs. Hawkins were the centre. Every 
 
168 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 third or fourth man held a torch above his head, and the 
 combined flames shed a lurid glare over the blackened 
 ruin, the white, drifted snow, and the stern, sad faces of 
 tlie stalwart men, who, at the hazard of their lives, had 
 come t6 render the last earthlj service to their murdered 
 comrades. When all were in their places, their rifles 
 ready to meet any sudden assault, Mrs. Hawkins, throw- 
 ing back her hood, so that her features were distinctly 
 visible, spoke to them souiewhat as follows : 
 
 '' I can hardly find words, dear friends, in this terrible 
 hour, to thank you for the kindly aid you have given me, 
 at so much risk to yourselves. My mother-heart is too 
 stricken for speech ; and yet, if the death of my true, 
 brave sons shall aid in freeing our country from its great 
 sin, I shall fold my hands, and try to say, ' God's will be 
 done.' If their example shall inspire one soul to do right, 
 and to lead a better and nobler life, they will not have 
 died in vain ; and when your children's children shall sit 
 in peace and freedom around their happy firesides, will 
 they not thank God that such men have lived and died to 
 give them a purer and better country ? Fray, dear neigh- 
 bors and friends, not for my sons — they need no one's 
 prayers — but pray for their desolate mother, that she 
 may be able to say from her heart, ' God's will be done.' " 
 
 Here a great sob choked her utterance. She could say 
 no more, and taking her horse by the bridle, Ellis led her 
 away to the barn. The men continued to pile the logs 
 one upon another till they had risen to a considerable 
 height from the ground, and this being done, all marched 
 back unmolested to the camp upon the mountain. 
 
A BUKIAL BY TORCHLIGHT. 169 
 
 Tlie pile of logs, all charred and furrowed as when fresh 
 from the fire, still rose upon the spot when Mrs. Hawkins 
 related to me. these incidents ; and as she finished the nar- 
 ration, she led me to the door-way of her dwelling, and, 
 pointing to the pile, said, " There, Sir, is where I buried 
 my boys, on the spot where they were born, the niins of 
 our old home for their monument ; and down there, Sir, 
 by the spring, is where twenty misguided men gave up 
 their lives for the crime Colonel Keith had committed." 
 22 
 
170 A MOU.NTAIN-WIIITE UEKOlNE. 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 SUKEY AS A SCHOOL-MISTKESS. 
 
 Sending scouts out on the following morning, Reuben 
 Ellis speedily discovered why he had not been molested 
 at the burial of the sons of Mrs. Hawkins. Soon after 
 noon of that day Keith had withdrawn his entire reo:iment 
 from the county, to carry fire and musket-ball into some 
 other unhappy district of the mountains. Being thus 
 freed from any possible interruption, Ellis proceeded at 
 once to rebuild the burned dwelling, meanwhile relin- 
 quishing to Mrs. Hawkins and Snkey, his own half-faced 
 cabin on Spring Mountain. 
 
 The new house in external appearance w^is, as nearly as 
 possible, a duplicate of the old one ; and it was located on 
 the same outlying knoll of the mountain, where from its 
 windows, the desolate mother could look out upon the 
 grave of her slaughtered sons. In internal fitting-up, 
 however, it was totally different. The antique furniture 
 and priceless mementoes of Benjamin Hawkins, were 
 replaced by rustic chairs, lounges, and sideboards — the 
 handiwork of the deft mountaineers — -and by numerous 
 articles from the " best-rooms" of the neighboring popu- 
 lation, which had been forced upon Mrs. Hawkins. Indeed, 
 so general was the sympathy with the bereaved woman 
 that, before her house was iuWy completed, she was obliged 
 to send back to its owners a large portion of the '' store- 
 
SUKEY AS A SCHOOL-MISTKESS. 171 
 
 bought " furniture of that mountain region. Not till the 
 dwelling was entirely finished and furnished, and Mrs. 
 Hawkins, with Sukey and Martha, had moved into it, did 
 Reuben Ellis set out with the refugees on the long tramp 
 into Tennessee. 
 
 Ellis had scarcely left the district before another Con- 
 federate regiment appeared in the neighborhood. It came 
 upon the same errand as the preceding one, but, either 
 the Confederate authorities had been shocked by the 
 atrocities of Keith, or its commander, General Alfred E. 
 Jackson, was a man of some humanity. He certainly did 
 not proceed on the supposition that the indiscriminate 
 killing of all the able-bodied men in the community would 
 enable it to furnish the Confederacy with the requisite sup- 
 ply of soldiers. Only one life was taken by Jackson's 
 troops, still, his occupation of the district was attended 
 with barbarities that cannot be glossed over in any faith- 
 ful picture of the war in this region. 
 
 " When Jackson arrived," says Daniel Ellis, " he ordered 
 eight or ten families to be moved into one house, and in 
 this way he had nearly all the houses vacated, with the 
 exception of the few which contained the women and 
 children, and these he had closely guarded. He ordered 
 all the vacant houses to be burned to ashes, and he also 
 gave orders for all the stock in the country to be destroyed. 
 He adopted this method, he said, in order to starve the 
 Union men out of the mountains, so that they would be 
 compelled to come in, and join the Confederate army. 
 It was now February, the snow was deep, and the weather 
 was extremely cold." 
 
172 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 *' The Ivebel soldiers would build up large fires out of 
 fence-rails, and lay around them, while the shivering 
 women and children were not permitted to have any fire at 
 all. Sometimes the little children would go to the fires 
 where the Rebel soldiers were, to warm their aching hands 
 and feet ; the Rebels would then compel them to stand so 
 close to the burninsc flames that the little innocent creatures 
 would scream out in severe agony of suffering ; and when 
 their mothers would approach to rescue them, the Rebels 
 would present their pistols, and tell them, if they attempted 
 to relieve their children, they would blow a ball through 
 them. ^ ^ The women and children suffered greatly 
 for something to eat, for the Rebels devoured all their 
 provisions. Yery frequently it occurred, that, for a whole 
 day together, they could not obtain any thing at all. This 
 gang of Rebel soldiers remained in this neighborhood for 
 eighteen or twenty days, and then returned to Greenville,'' 
 Tennessee. 
 
 But this savage desolation of an entire district did not 
 add a single recruit to the army of the Confederacy. 
 From their hiding-places in the mountains the men of the 
 region beheld their homes razed to the ground, and their 
 wives and children driven forth without food or shelter; 
 but they preferred to see their nearest kindred suffer, and 
 to themselves perish — as some of them did — of cold 
 and starvation, rather than lift their hands against their 
 country. But, since the world began it has never been 
 known that the one who set duty above life, was utterly 
 forsaken. This fact was noticed by David, and has been 
 also by every other man who has attentively observed 
 
SUKEY AS A SCHOOL-MISTRESS. 173 
 
 the world around him, or looked closely iuto history. 
 And how can it be otherwise, when, in the very nature 
 of things, all the good forces of the universe are on 
 the side of him who persistently follows truth and 
 justice. 
 
 But strength is born of weakness, and so relief came to 
 this distressed people from the sorely-stricken woman, 
 who, in her desolate home, sat now, hour after hour, 
 looking out upon the heap of charred logs that covered 
 all that had held her to this human life we are living. 
 Her house and her horses and cattle had been spared, and 
 not even a solitary soldier had so much as intruded upon 
 her premises. This may have been because she had 
 now no sons liable to conscription, or for the reason that 
 the great calamity w^hich had befallen her, had invested 
 her with a kind of sacredness in the eyes of even her ene- 
 mies. Whichever it was, her barn was unmolested, 
 though filled to the eaves with a generous harvest. At 
 the very first entrance of Jackson into the district she had 
 heard of the rapacity of his soldiery, and before two days 
 had fully passed she saw from her windows the homes of 
 her humble neighbors going up in flames. Then she said 
 to Sukey, " We have plenty, and those people will soon be 
 starving ; but how can we get any thing to them ? If we 
 send them corn, and the soldiers know it, they will come 
 and destroy our every bushel." 
 
 "I've been a thinking of that, ma'am," said Sukey. 
 " Thar 'pears ter me only one way ; but I'se afeard hit 
 mout be too hard upon ye, ma'am." 
 
 " And what is the way ? " asked Mrs. Hawkins. 
 
17^ A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HP:R0INE. 
 
 "'Ter open the schule agin, ma'am, an' put th' corn in 
 th' joiing iins bags when tliey goes home. Ter make hit 
 liglit fur ye, I'll larn th' children, an' ye shill only look 
 on an' see I does hit right." 
 
 Sukey " larnin' " the children ! Sukey a school-mistress ! 
 The thought was so very absurd that Mrs. Hawkins had to 
 sniile, but she said nothing. However, Sukey's quick in- 
 telliojence detected her thouo^ht, and answerino^ it she said, 
 "Hit won't make any difference, ma'am; fur th' chillen 
 won't come fur larnin' ; they'll come fur corn." 
 
 " So they will, Sukey," said Mrs. Hawkins, now laugh- 
 ing outright — the first laugh that had brightened her 
 features since the death of her sons. '^ Come here and 
 kiss me, Sukey." Then as Sukey put her arms about her, 
 she added, "you are a dear, good soul, Sukey. The Lord 
 is very kind to give you to me. You shall teach the 
 children — for I haven't the strength — and teaching them, 
 you will learn yourself." 
 
 It was not half an hour before Sukey, mounted on the 
 back of Sam, was on her way to every house where the 
 burned-out people had been gathered, to invite all the 
 children to the school which Mrs. Hawkins had decided to 
 again open at her dwelling, and to say, in a quiet aside to 
 the mothers, "seethetth' young uns is bundled up warm 
 in a shawl, or a blanket, big 'nuff ter hide a small bag uv 
 corn ; an' mind thet nary one uv th' sogers sots eyes on 
 hit — 'case ef he do, he'll come an' stole our fodder, an' 
 ve mout o^it no more uv hit." 
 
 So, the school opened with Mrs. Sukey Justin as school- 
 mistress, and. never was school so well attended in any 
 
SUKFA' AS A SCHOOL-MISTKESS. 175 
 
 region not subject to couipulsorj education. Far and 
 wide the news spread, till all the young folks for many 
 miles around showed a greed for learning never before 
 witnessed in that commniiity. When, on only the second 
 day of the school, the children were seen to come from 
 long distances, Sukey said to Mrs. Hawkins, " With th' 
 snow up ter thar knees, ma'am, hainthit fearsome bad for 
 th' young uns ter foot hit both ways, an' tote th' corn 
 besides. Won't ye let me hitch th' two nags ter th' Itig 
 sled, an' tote 'em home in th' hay-rick ? " 
 
 And thus, while suffering and sorrow brooded over 
 every household in the scattered community, there was 
 daily joy among not less than forty of those mountain 
 children. Even the sore heart of Mrs. Hawkins forgot its 
 pain, when she saw the gleeful little ones pile, thick as 
 sardines in a box, among the straw at the bottom of the 
 sled, and heard the woods ring: with their unrcstrainable 
 shouts and laughter. At such times Sukey would say to 
 her, with glad tears in her eyes, "Hit does me good, ma'am, 
 ter see ye enjoy hit. Thar's a blessin' on ye in th' hearts 
 uv every one uv these young uns, an' hit will holp th' 
 good Lord ter lift th' burden frum ye — I knows hit 
 will." 
 
 Then Sukey would cry "G'lang" to the horses, and 
 down the hill they would go like shot from a musket-bar- 
 rel, the children screaming with delight, and Mrs. Haw- 
 kins calling from the door-way, " Not so fast, Sukey, you'll 
 land them in a snow-bank." "Kever mind ef I does,'' 
 Sukey would shout back, " Hit'U do 'em good ; " and 
 then, making carefully the turn at the foot of the hill, 
 
176 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 she would shout again, ^' G'lang '' to the horses, and away 
 they would plunge through the snow, waking the echoes 
 of the quiet hills, and sending at least a inoir.entar}^ joy 
 through those terror-stricken mountains. Even the sol- 
 diers would cheer them as they swept by, and — good- 
 feeling being contagious — these daily merry-makings no 
 doubt served to relax the rigor of their watch upon the 
 crowded households. It is certain that, though the bags 
 were often exposed to their sight, and frequently were 
 large enough to supply the outlying men in the mountains, 
 the sentries never once looked under the straw in the sled, 
 nor cast a suspicious glance upon Mrs. Hawkins's gran- 
 ary. There were isolated cases of cruelty on both sides 
 during the war, but its whole history shows that the same 
 human heart beat under the gray coat that beat under the 
 blue. 
 
 After a brief time Jackson's soldiers disappeared from 
 the neighborhood, and then the necessity which had 
 called the school into being no longer existed ; but the 
 daily sessions were continued. Sukey saw that with so 
 much young life about her, Mrs. Hawkins was being 
 gradually drawn awa}' from her sorrow, and from the 
 unworldliness in which she had been fast losing all inter- 
 est in mere human affairs. To Sukey 's untutored intel- 
 lect this had not seemed a natural condition. As she read 
 the earthly career of the Great Master she discerned that 
 He bad touched our human life at its every point — had 
 wept with its sorrows, taken pleasure in its innocent en- 
 joyments — all the while that His soul had been infused 
 with the diviner life of a higher world. We should, she 
 
SUKEY AS A SCHOOL-MISTRESS. 177 
 
 thought, live as He lived, and hence, it was with great 
 gladness that she now saw Mrs. Hawkins emerging from 
 her icy isolation, and sympathizing again with the joj^s 
 and sorrows of the human life around her. 
 
 And I may as well say here that Sukey was a decided 
 success as a school-mistress. Illiterate and ignorant as she 
 was, she had in her heart the impelling motive of all 
 great achievement — love, grateful love to the pure soul 
 who had led her out of darkness into Christ's own mar- 
 velous light. So with all her heart she bent her mind to 
 interesting Mrs. Hawkins in this new work. She could 
 write reasonably well, read fluently, and spell — when 
 the book was before her ; but her real strength lay in 
 arousing the minds of her scholars, and exciting their 
 ambition. Her methods were unique, as were the circum- 
 stances under which she labored. There was not a spell- 
 ing-book, a reader, or an arithmetic, in the entire commu- 
 nity, for in the years it had been without a school such 
 things had gone to kindle the fires, or been swept out of 
 doors with the rubbish. She had only her Bible, and a 
 few newspapers that she had begged of Jackson's soldiers. 
 But with these as her text-books, she taught the children 
 their letters, then how to spell, and to read ; first having 
 them repeat the lesson orally after her, and then, to come 
 up to her table, and pick out the words, or the sentences, 
 for themselves from her Bible. And in numberless ways, 
 and with infinite tact, she excited in them emulation, and 
 lured them on to higher attainment. 
 
 All this, with her sewing or knitting in her hand, Mrs. 
 Hawkins observed from her arm-chair in the corner of the 
 23 
 
178 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 huge fire-place, at first with an amused, but absent, curi- 
 ositj ; then with more active interest ; and at length with 
 genuine admiration. Then one day when the lessons had 
 been recited somewhat sooner than usual, she said to 
 Sukej, "Let me tell the children a little story:" and 
 she told them of David and Goliath — how the little 
 stripling had overcome the great giant — the moral of 
 which was that however young and feeble a child was, 
 he would, if armed with truth arid right, be strong 
 enough to conquer the most formidable obstacles. 
 
 The children listened to the story with wondering de- 
 light, and, as school was about to close on the following 
 day, one of the little fellows spoke up timidl}^, and said, 
 " Please, ma'am, won't ye tole we uns another uv them 
 powerful nice stories." So, she told them another, and 
 another, till every day a Bible story wound up the school 
 exercises ; and, after a time, she said to Sukey, " Don't you 
 think, Sukey, that the school has grown too large for you 
 to manage alone — had I not better take the older chil- 
 dren, and you the younger?" This she did, becoming 
 day by day more interested in the work, till, after another 
 while, she spoke again. " The children," she said, *'like 
 my stories so much that I've been thinking their mothers 
 might like them, too. Suppose, Sukey, that we call them 
 together here on Sundays, and read and talk to them. If 
 it should do them no other good, it will take their minds 
 off from thinking of their husbands, and their own deso- 
 late condition." 
 
 The mothers came, bringing their children with them, 
 and the house was filled to overflowing. First, Mrs. 
 
SUKEY AS A SCHOOL-MISTRESS. 179 
 
 Hawkins made a prayer, and they sang together; and then 
 she read from the Scriptures, making such simple expla- 
 nations as were adapted to their capacities, and asking 
 them to question her about any portion that they did not 
 understand. Then again they prayed and sang together, 
 and then the women w^ent away, but not till they had all 
 gathered about Mrs. Hawkins, and told her that she had 
 been an ans^el of mercv to them all throuojh that terrible 
 winter, and that she had always been so ; that they had 
 nothing to give her in return, except their love, but God 
 would reward her. They made no allusion to her lost 
 sons, but the cpiivering lips, the tearful eyes, the sympa- 
 thetic tones, of every one of them told that they felt, what 
 they did not utter, lest it should open afresh the wound 
 which had already bled too freely. 
 
 When the last one had gone away Mrs. Haw^kins 
 clasped her arms about Sukey, and in a broken voice said, 
 " Oh ! Sukey, I have been so selfish ! I have thought only 
 of my own sorrow, while so many distressed people have 
 been all around me." Thus it was that she came back to 
 herself — was born anew into this every-day world; and 
 thereafter she daily found a deeper and a holier life in 
 giving of her own life and light to others. 
 
 That night, when Sukey went to her bed, she fell upon 
 her knees, and thanked the good Lord for enabling her to 
 lead the one she so much loved back to the sunshine of hu- 
 man joy, and to the blessedness of active work for others. 
 For she knew that she had done this. And this is the 
 miracle of human love. God pity the man or the woman 
 who has to go through this world without it. 
 
180 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 No sooner had the last of Jackson's troops left the dis- 
 trict than the outlying mountaineers emerged from their 
 hiding-places to rebuild their ruined dwellings. Placing 
 sentries on the roads leading to Warm Springs and Marsliall, 
 and working in a single, well-armed gang of about fifty, 
 they incurred but little risk of interruption, and it was 
 not long before all the burned-out families were again 
 sheltered in their own domiciles. Therefore, about the 
 sole result of Jackson's raid had been to give each of the 
 mountaineers a new house for an old one. ' 
 
 The only concern now^ experienced by the neighborhood 
 was a threatened shortage of provisions. Jackson's sol- 
 diers had not only lavishly consumed, they had wantonly 
 destroyed, both corn and cattle ; and in feeding the entire 
 community the store of Mrs. Hawkins would be exhausted 
 long before harvest. In these circumstances it was un- 
 expectedly discovered that these distressed people had 
 been unwittingly storing up provision for precisely 
 such an emergency. Sukey had been uniformly reticent 
 as to her reasons for sundering her relations w^ith Justin, 
 but now she let a few of her intimates understand tliat 
 he was a thief — and that the avails of his systematic 
 pilfering were at that very time stored away, in capacious 
 bags, in the loft of the mill. 
 
 The mountaineers were learned enough in the law to 
 know that one has a right to recover his own wheresoever 
 he ma}^ find it ; but it is doubtful if they paused to debate 
 the legality of the proceeding; for without delay they 
 descended upon the mill, thrust Justin and his assistant 
 into a couple of dark closets, and then removed the 
 
~^ 
 
 SUKEY AS A SCHOOL-MISTRESS. 181 
 
 stolen grain to their wwn dwellings. Thus, b}^ simply 
 reclaiming their own, they were amply provisioned till 
 anothei" harvest. Of course, Justin denied the taking of 
 any more toll than custom and law allowed him, but this 
 statement had but little weight with a jury of hungry 
 stomachs. 
 
 As was natural, this disclosure of Justin's real character 
 led to -his being ostracized by the entire mountain com- 
 munity. Men turned their faces away if they met him 
 in the road, and, rather than send grist to his mill, women 
 converted their corn into meal by the primitive process of 
 pounding. With no grist to grind the great w^heel ceased 
 rotating, the dubious assistant absented himself from the 
 district, and Justin went into winter quarters, hibernating 
 upon gloomy reflections, and such sweepings of the mill 
 as had escaped the eyes of his neighbors. Relieved thus 
 from espionage, the community resumed much of its 
 normal existence, the only indication of apprehended 
 danger being the piles of brush, which, every here and 
 there, were in readiness along the high-roads, to give warn- 
 ing of the approach of any body of soldiery. 
 
 Tlie deep snow upon the mountains soon forced Eeuben 
 Ellis to suspend his trips into Tennessee ; but fugitives — 
 now mostly escaped prisoners of war —^ continuing to 
 come in, they were quartered about in the various cabins 
 and barns in the neighborhood, at least a dozen having 
 lodgings in the hay-loft of Mrs. Hawkins. After a time 
 the number of fugitives became so large that it was evi- 
 dent the supply of corn would be exhausted before an- 
 other harvest, and- then Reuben Ellis set out through 
 
182 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 the snow for the vicinity of Morganton, to divert the tide 
 to a lojal district on the borders of Wilkes county, where 
 they would find a cordial welcome and provisions in 
 abundance. With the exception of this brief absence, he 
 remained at home during all of this winter after Febru- 
 ary, going about the neighborhood much as usual, and 
 with his w^ife making frequent visits to Mrs. Hawkins, 
 with whom he had left his older boy to " keep her com- 
 pany," and have the advantage of Sukey's ^' tuition." It 
 was not till early in April that the melting of the snow 
 made it practicable for liim to lead the large number of 
 escaped prisoners, who, by that time, were quartered on 
 the district, through the mountains into Tennessee. 
 
 He had made two or three subsequent trips, when one 
 night late in July, he came to the dwelling of Mrs. Haw- 
 kins. After her usual kindly greeting she said to him, 
 " It is long since I saw you in such exuberant spirits, 
 Reuben — you have good news to tell me." 
 
 " I have, ma'am," he answered, seating himself, and 
 taking his little boy upon his knee ; *' the Federals have 
 made a strong raid around Knoxville, and Daniel Ellis 
 says it is a reconnoissance, with a view to retaking Cum- 
 berland Gap, and occupying East Tennessee. I have no 
 doubt he knows, for he is in the confidence of the Union 
 generals." 
 
 " The Lord be thanked ! " exclaimed the lady. '^ We 
 have waited long, but I knew that deliverance would 
 come. With a Union force in Tennessee, you can stand 
 your ground, and drive such miscreants as Keith out of 
 the mountains." 
 
SUKEV A9 A SCHOOL MISTRESS. 183 
 
 " I could have doue that before now, ma'am," answered 
 Reuben, "if you had not objected. Two or three times 
 Keith has been within reach of mv carbine. It astonishes 
 me that you feel no bitterness toward that man." 
 
 ^' Should I be angry with the rod that has smitten me? 
 Did not the Lord say to Pilate, ' You could have no power 
 over me except it were given you from above 1 ' Keith 
 has been merely His instrument — it has been the Lord's 
 doings, and, therefore, I submit." 
 
 " It is wonderful to me that you can," he answered. 
 " I have had no wrongs like yours, and yet, I can't help 
 hating every Kebel of them all ; and as for Keith, I would 
 as soon kill him as I would a rattlesnake." 
 
 " He has much the nature of one," said Mrs. Hawkins, 
 "but such men are found everywhere. Times like these 
 bring them to the surface, to the disgrace of both sides, 
 and we should not charge their acts upon the Southern 
 people who are just as good and conscientious as we are. 
 They merely hold wrong opinions. It is their leaders 
 who are besotted with either folly or wickedness." 
 
 " Then you think we can soon stand our ground with 
 safety? " said Ellis. 
 
 " I do, as soon as there is a Union force in Tennessee, 
 that you can fall back upon in case of defeat. You can col- 
 lect the men who are lying out in the mountains, and with 
 them, and such escaped prisoners as may be willing to 
 remain here and fight for us, you can overcome any force 
 the Confederates can afford to send against us. While 
 we are surrounded on all sides, it is folly to resist ; and 
 the wisest course is to get our men through to the Union 
 
184 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 armies. But, the moment that the blood shed will not be 
 wasted, then, drive every Rebel from the mountains. 
 They are ours, and we have a right to our own firesides." 
 
 " And, after two years of almost uninterrupted defeat, 
 are you still confident that the Union cause will be finally 
 successful ? '' asked Ellis. 
 
 " Most certainly I am," answered Mrs. Hawkins. " We 
 suffered defeat so long as Mr. Lincoln was willing to save 
 the Union with slaverv ; but the moment he decided to 
 issue his Emancipation Proclamation the tide began to 
 turn. This convinces me that God intends the extirpa- 
 tion of slavery. The country may have to wade through 
 even deeper seas of blood ; but freedom will come at last, 
 and then we shall have a great and united nation. 
 
MOKE HOUSi^ BURNING. 185 
 
 CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 MORE HOUSE BURNING. 
 
 Early in September, 1863, came tidings to these belea- 
 guered people tliat Cumberland Gap had been recaptured 
 bj the Union troops, and that Colonel Foster, with the ad- 
 vance of Burnside's army, had occupied Knoxville. Bragg 
 was concentrating his forces at Chattanooga, but Rose- 
 crans was moving against him ; and thus did the great 
 valley between the Alleghany and Cumberland Moun- 
 tains, of which Knoxville is the centre, seem about to be 
 permanently delivered from the control of the Confeder- 
 ates. The Union advance was everywhere received with 
 a jo}^ that had no bounds. " Everywhere,'' says an eye- 
 witness, " the people flocked to the roadsides, and, with 
 cheers and wildest demonstrations of welcome, saluted the 
 flag of the Kepublic, and the men who had borne it in 
 triumph to the very heart of the Confederacy. Old men 
 wept at the sight, which they had waited for through 
 months of sufferings ; even children hailed with joy the 
 sign of deliverance. Nobly had these persecuted people 
 stood by their faith." 
 
 The news had been sent back to Mrs. Hawkins by a 
 special messenger from Reuben Ellis, at Elizabethton ; 
 and he wrote that he was about to go forward to the head- 
 quarters of the Union commander, to secure from him the 
 detail of an officer competent to drill and lead troops, 
 24 
 
186 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 together with a small squad of regular soldiers, around 
 whom the mountain men might rally, and permanently 
 hold Madison county. He added that he would himself 
 be at home within a fortnight. The returned refugee 
 who brought this letter from Ellis, said that he had come 
 by the way of the camp on Spring Mountain, where 
 Squire Plotts had just arrived, with a party of thirty 
 fugitives from Haywood county, who had come on to be 
 guided through the mountains. At once Mrs. Hawkins 
 loaded a couple of horses with provisions, and dispatched 
 them by Sukey to Squire Plotts, together with a letter, 
 giving him the news from Ellis, and advising that the 
 men should wait his return from Tennessee. 
 
 These tidings spread universal joy through all the 
 mountain region ; but the rejoicing was of short duration, 
 for soon again did the red hand of war press heavily upon 
 the devoted community. Driven back by the advance of 
 the Union forces, Colonel Keith had decamped from 
 Tennessee, and again made his appearance in Madison 
 county. And again was his way marked by burning and 
 bloodshed. His regiment, says Daniel Ellis, " visited 
 Shelton Laurel, and burned a number of houses belonging 
 to Union men, and then murdered John Metcalfe by 
 shooting him in the head, and running their bayonets 
 through him six times. They also murdered Kobert 
 Hare by shooting him three times. Their next victim was 
 Marion Franklin. He was ploughing in the field, perfectly 
 unconscious of his dreadful doom, when one of the Rebel 
 outlaws walked up to the fence, and shot him in the hip. 
 When the ball struck him he ran to a large stump which 
 
MOKE HOUSE BUKNING. 187 
 
 was surrounded with buslies, and laid down ; tijere he 
 remained for a short time, writhing and groaning with 
 severe agony, until his murderers came up, and relieved 
 him from his misery by shooting him in the breast.'' 
 
 " The infamous murderers went coolly and calmly along 
 in their horrible work of destruction and death. The 
 next victims who had the misfortune of falling into their 
 hands were Tilman Landers, Absalom Bracks, and a little 
 boy, all of whom were caught at Mrs. Ruth Shelton's 
 stable, and unceremoniously murdered on the spot. They 
 caught David Shelton at his house, hung him until he 
 was dead, and then dragged him to a laurel thicket, where 
 they covered him with leaves. A few women afterward 
 removed his body, and gave it a more humane burial." 
 Having committed these atrocities. Colonel Keith took 
 up his quarters on Rich Mountain, which indicated that 
 he had discovered that the refugee encampment was not 
 more than a mile away, upon the adjoining mountain. 
 
 Scarcely more than an hour after this significant move- 
 ment became known to Mrs. Hawkins, the Confederate 
 sergeant, who has been already mentioned, rode up to 
 her door-way with a squad of about twenty soldiers. 
 Dismounting, he asked to see Mrs. Hawkins, and, the 
 school being in session, Sukey conducted him into the 
 dining-room. As Mrs. Hawkins entered the room he re- 
 moved his cap, and bowing low, said to her, " T have often 
 to do unpleasant duties, madam ; but I never did one so 
 unpleasant as now — I am ordered to burn your dwelling." 
 
 " Then," said the lady, without the slightest exhibition 
 of surprise or indignation, "not content with having 
 
188 A MOUNTAIN- WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 murdered my sons, Colonel Keith would now deprive me 
 of shelter?" 
 
 " He intends jou no bodily harm, madam," answered 
 the sergeant, " or he would not have sent 7ne on this 
 errand. He means to drive you from this neighborhood — 
 he thinks it altogether owing to you that he can get no 
 recruits in the mountains." 
 
 " He may be partly right," she replied, " but he doesn't 
 help himself b}' burning my house. The mountain people 
 make my cause their own, and tliey will be only the more 
 embittered against him by this new vandalism. It has 
 been solely out of regard to my wishes, that they have 
 till now spared his* life ; and on several occasions he has 
 been within reach of their rifles. But now, let him look 
 to himself, for at his every step in these mountains he 
 will be in danger. Please say this to him, and that 
 only by taking my life can he drive me away from my 
 home." 
 
 *' I shall have to soften what you say, madam," answered 
 the sergeant, '^for Colonel Keith is a very passionate 
 man, and he might do you actual violence. At times he 
 seems possessed of a devil." 
 
 "I have no doubt he is," rejoined Mrs. Hawkins ; " but 
 do not soften a word I have said ; and say also that if he 
 stays in this neighborhood another fortnight he will be 
 exterminated. We shall by that time have men enough 
 to annihilate his regiment. The tables have turned, and 
 these mountains are to be free. Soon Colonel Keith 
 will be the hunted, not the hunter." 
 
 " He ar' a devil," now said Sukey ; '*but yer' a decent 
 
MORE HOUSE BURNING. 189 
 
 young man — only ye liev ter obey orders. But ye haint 
 nary orders to burn th' barn an' tli' fixin's in th' house ? " 
 
 " Nothing was mentioned except the house, Mrs. Jus- 
 tin," answered the sergeant ; " but I suppose it is in- 
 tended we shall burn every thing." 
 
 " Well, suppose ye foller th' letter uv th' law," said 
 Sukey, " and let us save th' house fixin's. Ye see, thar's 
 plenty of logs kin be got from th' woods, but if ye burn 
 th' rest, hit's 'bout all thar is in Madison county." 
 
 " Let me speak to my men about it,' ' said the sergeant, 
 *' if they consent, we'll not burn the barn, and will help 
 you to remove the furniture." 
 
 As he went out to consult his men, Mrs. Hawkins said 
 to Sukey, " I never should have thought of that. Sukey — 
 you are a treasure." 
 
 In a few moments the sergeant reappeared at the door, 
 with a gratified look upon his face. " The men consent," 
 he said, " but we must be quick about it, or we shall be 
 called to account for our delay." 
 
 Going then to the door, Sukey said to the dozen sol- 
 diers who composed the squad, "Ye ar' decent men, 
 ebery one uv ye, ef ye is Kebels. Ef ye ever repent uv 
 that, ye kin come hyar, an' hev a small fairm, an' a right 
 nice gal ter marry ye. Now, we'll git th' things ter th' 
 barn. I'll ax ye ter tuck th' heavy ones, while the 
 chil'ren tote the little fixin's, an' I screw off th' doors an' 
 winders — ye see we couldn't git nary more uv them in 
 all these mountains." 
 
 In but little more than half an hour there was nothing 
 left of the house but its log walls, and puncheon flooring. 
 
190 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 Fire was then set to a pile of brush in the sitting-room, 
 and soon it flamed above the roof, to tell Colonel Keith, 
 at his camp six miles away, that his brutal order had 
 been executed. Then Sukey said to the men, "Ye has 
 w licked well, an' now I want ye ter taste of my apple- 
 jack — hit's uv my own makin'." 
 
 While the men were imbibing the exhilarating fluid, 
 Sukey said to them, " We shill hev th' house up agin 
 by ter morrer, or next day ; an' ef th' cunnel orders hit 
 down agin, jist ye ax ter do th' burn in'. If ye will, I'll 
 give ye as much apple-jack as ye kin tote away, an' keep 
 on yer bosses." 
 
 ^'Let me advise you, Mrs. Hawkins," said the sergeant, 
 " not to rebuild the house while we are here. The 
 colonel will surely order it burned." 
 
 " We shall rebuild it," she answered, "unless Colonel 
 Keith sets a guard over the grounds." 
 
 " He probably will not do that, madam. He will allow 
 it to be rebuilt, just for the pleasure of burning it down." 
 
 " Is it proper for me to ask you how long he intends 
 to remain in this neighborhood ? " asked Mrs. Hawkins. 
 
 "Certainly, madam," answered the sergeant, ^^ but I 
 cannot tell you ; though I have heard him say that he in- 
 tends to stay till he has captured and hung Reuben 
 Ellis." 
 
 The Confederates having gone, and the children being 
 sent away, Mrs. Hawkins said to Sukey, " If you will stay 
 here, dear, I w^ill ride up and see Squire Plotts on the 
 mountain." 
 
 " Ye'd better let me gwo, ma'am," said Sukey, " fur 
 
MORE HOUSE BURNING. 191 
 
 ye'll hev ter ride all tli' way round by tli' woods, ter git 
 shut uv Gunnel Keith's regiment." 
 
 ''I know the way," answered Mrs. Hawkins, "and it is 
 better for me to go ; for the Squire was mj husband's 
 friend, and he may do for me what he wouldn't do for 
 you, Sukey." 
 
 As she was slowly climbing the mountain on the back 
 of Sam, she was halted by a sentinel, while still half a 
 mile from the camp of the refugees. He was a man from 
 Haywood county, and unacquainted with Mrs. Hawkins, 
 but, on hearing her name, he allowed hei* to pass on to the 
 next picket, who, he said, was one of her own neighbors. 
 This man left his post to guide her past the other sentries 
 whom she would meet before reaching the encampment. 
 Evidently, Squire Plottsknewof the proximity of Keith's 
 forces, and did not intend to be come upon without 
 warning. 
 
 She found the Squire, reclining at his ease in Eeuben 
 Ellis's half-faced cabin, his feet encased in slippers, and 
 his long white hair hanging loosely around his shoulders. 
 Helping her to alight, he conducted her to one of the 
 rustic seats, with many expressions of pleasure at having 
 made her personal acquaintance. As soon as his compli- 
 mentary volubility would permit, she said to him, " I have 
 just learned from the men who have burned my house, 
 that Colonel Keith intends to sta}- liere till he has cap- 
 tured Reuben Ellis. No doubt he has stationed soldiers 
 on every path by which Reuben can get here. He doesn't 
 know that Keith has returned, and so will not be on his 
 guard. Can't you in some way give him warning ? " 
 
192 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 "I can't see how we kin, Mrs. Hawkins," answered the 
 Squire, *' for nary a one of us knows th' route he'll come 
 by. But do ye say th' scoundrils hev burned th' house 
 over yer head ? " 
 
 "Yes, Squire," she answered, "but let me tell you 
 about that by and by. Kow, I am anxious about Reuben. 
 There is not a moment to lose ; for, if word is not sent to 
 him at once, he may be captured. The man who brought 
 us Reuben's letter — he knows the route — can't he go ? " 
 
 " He mout, ma'am," said the Squire, " but he's twenty 
 mile away, ter his home in Yancey." 
 
 " JS'o doubt some man here knows where he lives — 
 won't you let some one go for him ? " 
 
 "Certainly I will, ma'am," said the Squire, "and now 
 that I think uv it, we've got hyarnigh outer forty uv yer 
 naabors — lyin'-outers as hev come inter camp, thinkin' 
 we was gwine ter hev a brush with the Rebels. It mout 
 be as some uv them has been over the route with Reuben." 
 
 Going then to the entrance of the cabin, he put his 
 hand to his mouth, and uttered the loud bleat of a deer, 
 when instantly, from the near-by forest, the overhanging 
 rocks, and the half -faced cabins in the vicinity, emerged 
 not less than eighty stalwart mountaineers, each one armed 
 with a rifle. They gathered quickly about the Squire, 
 and he said to them, " If any one among ye knows th' 
 route Reuben Ellis tucks in gwine ter Tennessee, let him 
 come forward." Two Madison county men stepped from 
 the ranks, and then the Squire continued, " If any one uv 
 ye knows whar Jared Bolton's house ar', over ter Yancey, 
 let him come forward." Another Madison county man 
 
MORE HOUSE BURNING. 193 
 
 came forward, and then the Squire went on to tell 
 them of the danger of Ellis, and the necessity of giving 
 him warning, ending his remarks with, " Ye'll tuck yer 
 lives in yer hands, fur thar haint a doubt th' scoundril 
 Keith has set his traps all through th' mountings; but I 
 knows every man uv ye all wud be proud ter die fur 
 Reuben Ellis." 
 
 As the three men left to make preparations for the 
 perilous tramp through Keith's lines, the Squire turned 
 to the others, saying, " Thar's not a doubt Keith knows 
 whar we ar' camped, and means ter attack us. He's only 
 waitin' fur Ellis ter come in, fur if he misses him on th' 
 route, he counts on kotchin' him hyar; so I think ye 
 Madison men hed best warn th' other outliers ter come 
 ter camp to once. We shall need every man we kin git ; 
 but with all uv ye hyar, we'll lead Keith such a dance as 
 he never tuck afore. Now, ye'll oblige me if ye'll call 
 in th' outliers, and th' rest uv ye keep within hearin'." 
 
 As the men dispersed, the Squire, calling the attention 
 of Mrs. Hawkins to the ledge of rocks at the rear of the 
 camp, said, ''Madam, ye see that four-foot wall I've 
 built along the edge uv th' presurpiss. I larned in Mexico 
 allers to fortify if thar was a rock or a sod handy. 
 Ahind uv thet wall our nien'U be bomb-proof, and kin 
 pick off th' Rebels at their leisure." 
 
 The Squire then asked Mrs. Hawkins about the burn- 
 ing of her house, and she related the circumstances, add- 
 ing that the men who had come on from Haywood county 
 had better not be sent through to Tennessee, inasmuch as 
 Ellis had decided to gather a force to drive the Confeder- 
 25 
 
194 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 ates from the mountains. To this the Squire cordially 
 assented, and he further volunteered to at once rebuild 
 Mrs. Hawkins's dwelling. This done, he would place a 
 guard in ambush over it, and give Keith a warm reception 
 should he again attempt its destruction. 
 
 The route through the woods on the flank of Keith's 
 position being unknown to the men from Haywood 
 count}^, it was necessary that Mrs. Hawkins should guide 
 their w^ay, and accordingly a party of about twenty accom- 
 panied her on her return to her dwelling. They halted 
 in the forest about .a fourth of a mile in the rear of the 
 burned house, until she sent to them saws and other nec- 
 essary implements, and then they set to work getting out 
 the timber and flooring for the new dwelling. Felling 
 the trees with saws, they made not enough noise to 
 attract attention, and had finished the work by midnight. 
 Then, after removing the ruins of the burned dwelling 
 they went back to their camp to return on the succeeding 
 night and erect the house on its previous foundation. 
 
 This was done on the following night by a stronger 
 force, under the personal superintendence of Squire 
 Plotts, he being present mainly to direct the fight in case 
 the work should be interrupted. There was, however, 
 no interruption, though about midnight a mounted Con- 
 federate was seen to pass along the highway within gun- 
 shot of the dwelling. It was a moonlit night, and being 
 able to work nearly as well as by day, the men — expert 
 at such employment — had the house raised, the roof on, 
 the floors laid, and the doors and windows hung by an 
 hour before daybreak. 
 
MORE HOUSE BURNING. 195 
 
 Then the Squire said to Mrs. Hawkins, " Thet feller 
 ridin' along th' road shows thet Keith ar' spyin' on us. 
 He means to attack ye during th' day or night. My ad- 
 vice ter ye would be ter move yer things inter th' house, 
 but ter leave yer bed in th' barn, so ye'll be out uv th' 
 way uv th' bullets. I'll post what men ar' hyar, jist in 
 th' edge uv th' timber, and if ye'll lend me a horse, I'll 
 ride stret back ter camp, and bring as many more as can 
 be speered. Bj' this time I reckon th' most of the out- 
 liers will have come in." 
 
 On his return to the encampment the Squire found 
 that, with the newly-arrived reinforcements, he had a 
 force of nearly one hundred and twenty men, all of them 
 stalwart mountaineers, handv with the rifle, and eao^er to 
 wreak vengeance upon the miscreant Keith, and his band 
 of marauders. Leaving twenty of these men in the 
 camp, under command of a trusty neighbor, with strict 
 injunctions to keep sentries out in all directions, day and 
 night, and to retire to the rocky ledge on the lirst ap- 
 proach of an enemy, he led the remainder, with all pos- 
 sible speed, to join their comrades in the woods in the 
 rear of the endangered dwelling. 
 
 It was afternoon when he arrived, and from his posi- 
 tion he could see that the house had not yet been dis- 
 turbed, but he soon had direct tidings to that effect fiom 
 Sukey. She brought to him the three Henry carbines 
 which had belonged to the sons of Mrs. Hawkins. She 
 said to him, "We hev hed these guns hid away in th' 
 loft uv.th' barn. They was th' boys, an' thar mother an' 
 me think 'taint no more nor right the guns should hev a 
 
196 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 chance ter tuck vengeance on tli' boys' inurderers. Arj one 
 uv 'em will do as much work as sixteen common rifles." 
 
 The Squire regarded the carbines as equal to a rein- 
 forcemejit of fifty men, still, he hoped the attack would 
 be deferred until after dark, for then he could place his 
 men in ambush, in the line of shrubbery that grew directly 
 in the rear of the original dwelling, and probably beat off 
 the assault with little, if any, loss to his own force. In 
 this he was not to be disappointed, for the day wore 
 slowly away with no appearance of the Confederates, and 
 soon after dark he moved silently forward to the position 
 from which he expected to take them at a disadvantage. 
 
 The sky was cloudless, the moon was at the full and, 
 shining down through the rare atmosphere of this moun- 
 tain region, it shed over field and forest a light as clear, 
 and almost as brilliant, as that of day. A dead silence 
 brooded over every thing, broken only now and then by 
 the hoot of an owl, or the distant howl of some wolf far 
 away upon the mountains. Mrs. Hawkins sat with Sukey 
 by a window of the new dwelling, in which they had 
 made their beds, leaving Martha, the servant, to a safer 
 lodging in the barn with the animals. Hour after hour 
 they sat there till the brass clock upon the rude mantel- 
 piece told that it was midnight. Then suddenly Mrs. 
 Hawkins exclaimed, " Hark ! Sukey, do you hear that ? " 
 It was a low, measured sound, coming steadily near — the 
 distant tread of a bodv of horsemen. 
 
 " They are coming," she said, " coming to their death ! 
 God pity them." Then in a few moments she added, 
 " Sukey, dear, won't you go out at the back door, and see 
 
More house burning. 197 
 
 that the men are ready." As Sukej left the room Mrs. 
 Hawkins sank to her knees, and bowing her head upon 
 her hands, she said, " Oh ! Heavenly Fatlier, forgive me if 
 there is wrong in w^hat is to happen — forgive the mur- 
 derers of my poor boys; some of wdiom are so soon to 
 meet human justice — and oh ! forgive me, if in my heart 
 there has been one feehng of revenge for the wrongs they 
 have done me." 
 
 As she rose from her knees, Sukey returned to the 
 room, saying, "They is all ready, ma'am; an' th' Squar 
 thinks ye had best order 'em from th' yard, an' then if 
 they doesn't go, he'll tire on 'em." 
 
 '^ That I will do," said Mrs. Hawkins, "and Sukey, you 
 had better go to the barn. There is no filling between 
 the logs — and some of the bullets may hit you." 
 
 " I'm not afeard, ma'am ; an' I can't gwo ef you stay." 
 
 It was not many more minutes before a body of horse- 
 men filed in at the gateway. They had dismounted, 
 and were about fastening their horses to the line of fence 
 that bordered the higii-road, when, opening the door 
 whence she could be distinctly heard, Mrs. Hawkins called 
 to them : " Leave my grounds, you gray-coated ruffians ! 
 If you don't, your blood will be on your own heads." 
 
 A chorus of jeers and yells was the only answer to this 
 warning. When they had died away, there came a dis- 
 charge of rifle-shots from the line of shrubbery, and many a 
 man and horse fell to the ground, never to rise again. A 
 long-continued roll of tire followed, as if an entire regi- 
 ment were in the ambuscade, and panic-stricken, the 
 Confederates fled, leaving twenty dead and dying upon 
 
198 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 the ground behind them. A half-dozen of the horses 
 were killed, and upwards of a score broke away, and fled 
 up the mountain to be subsequently captured by the 
 mountaineers. The Confederates evidently expected re- 
 sistance, for the part}^ numbered at least two hundred ; but 
 disconcerted by thesudden and long-continued volleys from 
 their concealed enemies, tliey fled without firing a shot. 
 
 When Mrs. Hawkins related to me these circumstan- 
 ces, we stood together beside a spring upon the lower part 
 of her lawn, near the highway, and pointing to the outlet 
 of the spring, she said, " That run was a sight all the 
 next da}^, and I've never drawn water from it s'nce. It 
 was a pity so many poor fellows — every one of them with 
 a wife, a sister, or a mother — should die for one lone 
 woman like me ; but I couldn't help it. They brought it 
 on themselves." 
 
 When the last Confederate had fled down the hio^h-road 
 Mrs. Hawkins, Sukey, and Squire Plotts, descended the 
 hill to look after the wounded. Three only were alive, 
 among them the fair-haired young sergeant who had 
 shown so much courtesy to Mrs. Hawkins. The three were 
 taken tenderly up by a half-dozen of the mountaineers, 
 and borne to the house, where they were laid upon the 
 beds already prepared for Mrs. Hawkins and Sukey. Two 
 died before the morning, but the young sergeant, though 
 desperately wounded, lived through the nigtit, and finally, 
 after two months of most watchful attendance, was able 
 to leave his bed, and walk about the grounds. In another 
 month he joined Reuben Ellis's company of rangers, and 
 he never again fought for the Confederacy. 
 
A BA-nXE BY MOONLIGHT. 199 
 
 CHAPTEK XII. 
 
 A BATTLE BY MOONLIGHT. 
 
 Colonel Keith was not altogether lost to tlie common 
 feelings of humanity. On the morning after the defeat 
 of his men, he dispatched one of his soldiers to the dwell- 
 ing of Mrs. Hawkins, with a letter to her asking permis- 
 sion to remove his killed and wounded, and pledging his 
 honor that, in case his request was granted, he would 
 make no further attempt to injure her property. With 
 the first appearance of daylight. Squire Plotts had fallen 
 back to the woods at the rear of the house, and he could 
 not now be consulted without disclosing his position to 
 the soldier ; Mrs. Hawkins was, therefore, obliged to act 
 upon her own judgment. " The men are all dead," she 
 said to the soldier, "excepting one — Sergeant Blount — 
 who is in the house, very badly wounded. I will take 
 Colonel Keith's word, because, if he should now burn my 
 house, he would inevitably kill his own officer; for any 
 attempt to remove him will be fatal. However, he can 
 send not more than twenty men, and the bodies must be 
 removed to-day. If they are not away by nightfall, I 
 shall have them buried." 
 
 This being made known to the Squire after the depart- 
 ure of the messenger, he set out at once for Spring Moun- 
 tain, leaving, however, a dozen of his men to see, from 
 behind the line of shrubbery, that Keith's soldiers con- 
 
200 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 ducted themselves in au orderly manner. During the 
 day the dead bodies were removed, and, meanwhile, some 
 ao:ed men amono^ the ncio^hbors volunteered to chink the 
 crevices between the logs of the dwelling, and put the 
 grounds in order. This they did, and by nightfall no 
 vestige of the recent carnage remained, except the bent 
 grass, trodden by the feet of many horses, and the crim- 
 soned rivulet below the spring, which still ran with the 
 blood of the men whose bodies had been borne away to 
 unknown graves among the mountains. On the following 
 day the school resumed its sessions, and the place took on 
 its usual tranquil appearance. One ignorant of the events, 
 looking then upon that sloping lawn, lying there so green 
 and wavy in the sun, would not ]iave imagined that it 
 had been so recently the scene whence so many hapless 
 souls had rushed unbidden into the stern realities of the 
 future life. 
 
 It was on the second day of the school, and shortly be- 
 fore noon, when Martha entered the school-room, and in a 
 low tone announced to Mrs. Hawkins that Justin was at the 
 front entrance, desiring to see her. Saying nothing to 
 Sukey, she rose, and went out to meet him. As he stood 
 by the dining-room door she was startled by his altered 
 appearance. He was hollow-eyed, and his face was pale 
 and haggard. His clothes sat upon him loosely, as if his 
 robust frame had dwindled to two-thirds of its former 
 proportions, and there was in his bloodshot eyes a look so 
 wild, craven, and dejected, that Mrs. Hawkins regarded 
 him with involuntary pity, despite the abundant cause 
 she had for a severer feeling. Still, there was some stern- 
 
A BATTLE BV MOONLIGHT. 201 
 
 ness ill her tone as she asked, " What is it that joii want 
 of me ? " 
 
 " To tell ye, ma'am, that Reuben Ellis have got through 
 safely." This he said avoiding her glance, but in a tone 
 which showed that he was aware he was the bearer of 
 welcome tidings. 
 
 " Thank God ! thank God ! " she exclaimed ; bat in a 
 moment she added, " How do ^ou know this ? Have 
 you seen him ? " 
 
 "I haint seed him," he answered, "but I had hit not 
 two hours ago from a man as had seed him He fell in- 
 ter a trap ez Gunnel Keith had sot for him. Thar was a 
 dozen agin him, and they killed his nag ; but his sixteen 
 shooter saved him. He shot three or four uv 'em, and 
 then, got inter th' thick undergrowth whar they was 
 afeard ter foller. Hit war about midnight, and he must 
 hev fotched th' camp on Spring Mountain afore this time." 
 
 " It is good news, Robert Justin," rejoined Mrs. Haw- 
 kins. " I was very anxious about him, and I greatly 
 thank you for bringing me this word. If this is all you 
 have to say, I will now go back to the school." 
 
 "I has more, ma'am," he said, " uv life and death im- 
 portance ter ye and Reuben ; but I daren't say it hyar — 
 hit would cost me my life ef hit was know'd I hed be- 
 trayed 'em. Ef ye'Il let me step inter th' house, I'll tell 
 
 ye." 
 
 " Very well, come in," she said, leading him into tlie 
 dining room, and pointing to a chair. " I'll be glad to 
 hear you ; but please be brief, for I must go back to the 
 
 school presently." " Hit ar' this, ma'am. Gunnel Keith 
 
 2G 
 
202 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 have coined hyar, and stayed hyar, only ter drnv ye away, 
 and tuck and liang Reube Ellis. He thinks hit's all along 
 uv ye two thet he's got no recruits in th' mountings. 
 When he yered Ileube was away, he sot traps fur him 
 nigh all th' way ter Tennessee ; but, being ez he had a 
 horse, Reuben must hev come th' travilled roads, and so 
 escaped 'em. Now, thet th' Cunncl knows he have got 
 through, he swars he'll hev him, or die in tryin'. He 
 means ter attack th' camp on Spring Mountain ter night. 
 He knows all about hit — thet Squire PJotts have got only 
 seventy men — and he's got more'n five hundred, some 
 uv 'em with Winchester rifles." 
 
 Mrs. Hawkins had remarkable control over her features, 
 or Justin might have seen that she believed his report, 
 and felt a sudden fear for the safety of the mountaineers : 
 however, despite her alarm, she asked coolly, ''How does 
 Colonel Keith know all about the camp ? " 
 
 " From a Shelton Laurel man, as he has tuck, and 
 given his life fur tcllin' him." 
 
 ^' And how do you know that he intends to attack the 
 camp to-night ? " she asked, looking him intently in the 
 face. 
 
 " 'Case he telled me so," he answered, "not more'n two 
 hours ago." 
 
 "I believe you," she said, her manner softening to- 
 ward him, "and though you are betraying your friends, 
 I thank you. You are making some amends for the 
 great wrong you have done me." 
 
 " I never meant ter do ye wrong, ma am," he said, his 
 face lighting up with something like a hopeful expression. 
 
A BATTLE BY MOONLIGHT. 203 
 
 " I would do ary thing ter serve ye ; and now ez I has 
 showed ye thet I would, will ye let me ax ye ter do 
 suthin' fur me ?" 
 
 '' What is it ? " asked Mrs. Hawkins. 
 
 " Ter speak a kind word fur me ter Sukey. I can't live 
 without her, ma'am. Ye sees what I ar' — the shadder 
 uv what I was — hit's all along uv Sukey — I must liev 
 her again ter live with, and love me — and she kin love 
 me, ma'am, fur I haint th' man I was — I'se repented in 
 dust and ashes." 
 
 She involuntarily moved her seat farther from him, 
 and a look of inexpressible loathing came upon her 
 features, as she said, " So, it is for this you have given 
 me this warning — to make me your tool to seduce a 
 pure soul again into your slimy clutches. Robert Justin, 
 there is a God, and the one thing He absolutely hates is 
 falsehood, and you are steeped in it to the very core. 
 For a filthy reward you betrayed my poor boys, and now, 
 to serve your vile passions, you have been false to their 
 murderers. In revealing what you have, God has made 
 you His instrument for saving a true and loyal man, and 
 inflicting a deeper punishment upon yourself — for you 
 have placed an impassable gulf between yourself and 
 Sukey. When I tell her of this, she will loathe you 
 more than I do." Then rising from her chair, with an) 
 imperious tone and manner, she added, '' Now go, and 
 never cross my path again." 
 
 With a bowed head, and a craven look, Justin stag- 
 gered out from the door-way. When he had gone, Mrs. 
 Hawkins went to the school-room, and said to Sukey, 
 
204 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 " Have one of the older bojs put saddle and bridle upon 
 Sam, innnediatelj. Then come to my room for a mo- 
 ment." As she was changing her garments for the trip 
 to the camp on the mountain, she related to Sukey her 
 interview with Justin. When she had finished the nar- 
 ration, Sukey said, " Why he ar' worse nor Judas ; and 
 I've knowM hit, ma'am, ever sence I woke up ter know 
 right from wrong." 
 
 At the camp the situation was discussed between Squire 
 Plotts and Reuben Ellis in the presence of Mrs. Hawkins. 
 Both were in favor of standing their ground, and risking 
 an engagement. They would be greatly outnumbered, 
 but the camp could be approached only in front ; and 
 from behind their stone-wall barricade tliey could pick 
 off one-half of their assailants, before the other half 
 should have reached the foot of the rocky ledge on which 
 they would be posted. A victory was, therefore, reason- 
 ably cerl:ain, and it would doubtless drive Keith from the 
 district. Moreover, such an one, gained at that time, be- 
 fore the ofiicer detailed by General Burnside had arrived, 
 would o^ive the mountaineers confidence in themselves, 
 and greatly contribute toward freeing the mountain region 
 from the presence of the Confederates. These considera- 
 tions decided them to risk a battle, and Mrs. Hawkins went 
 to her home well knowing that another scene of blood and 
 horror was to be enacted before another mornino:. 
 
 "Oh! Sukey," she said, putting her arms about her, 
 when she had told her of this resolve of the leaders, *' I 
 wish we were in some other world, where there is not all 
 this strife and violence." 
 
A BATfLE BY MOONLIGHT. 205 
 
 " I don't know, ma'am," replied Sukey, '' baint it so 
 every whar — the evil allers strugglin' agin tli' good ? In 
 the Bible ye guv me, hit says thar was war in heaven. 
 But Michael cast out th' dragon ; and musn't it allers 
 be so, seein' th' Lord ar' on th' side uv th' right, and 
 won't see hit iinarly gwo under? Th' odds ar' great agin 
 'em ; but th' Bible hit say th' battle ar' not ter th' strong; 
 but th' Lord of Hosts, he giveth th' victory. So, I shill 
 pray ter Him, and He nuver yit has refused my prayer — 
 never sence I made up my full mind ter be one uv His 
 children." 
 
 Again it was a clear, moonlit night, and silence reigned 
 over all the mighty forest. Except the occasional cry of 
 some wild creature, not a sound was heard as hour after 
 hour the men stood at their posts, listening with strained 
 ears for the distant tread of their assailants. All were 
 well armed — Ellis, the Squire, and two expert marksmen, 
 with carbines, the others with the long-barreled moun- 
 tain rifle — and the two flanks of their position, approach- 
 able only on the hands and knees, had been further 
 strengthened by a high barricade of logs. No sentinels 
 were out, for sentries were useless so long as an attack 
 was certain. Every man was in his assigned place, and 
 each one had heard the words of Ellis, " Single out your 
 man — don't fire till sure of your aim — and remember 
 that these are the men who have killed the Hawkins 
 boys, burned your homes, and murdered your dearest 
 kindred." 
 
 Not far from midnight a distant rustling roar like the 
 
206 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 Steady sweep of an autumn wind, was beard coming up 
 from tlie lower part of the mountain. Gradually it came 
 nearer till it could be distinguished that two columns were 
 advancing, one against each flank of the entrenchment. 
 *' They will be upon us soon," now cried Ellis. " Every 
 man to his knees, and except when he fires, keep his head 
 below the line of the wall. Don't shoot till I give the 
 word ; then load and fire as fast as you can, and we'll score 
 off the debt we owe these devils." 
 
 Thus they waited for perhaps a quarter of an hour, till 
 Keith's men emerged from among the trees, and began 
 to form in two solid bodies, about twenty-five front, by 
 ten deep, at the edge of the open space on which stood 
 the encampment. The evident intention was to simulta- 
 neously storm the two flanks of the barricade, and carry 
 them by mere weight of numbers. They were now not 
 much more than two hundred yards away, but Ellis waited 
 till the two masses were well compacted — broad targets 
 for his unerrinoj mountain rifles. Then the word *' Fire" 
 rang along the clifl, and two sheets of shotted flame poured 
 down upon the assailants. For ten long minates the fiery 
 death continued to fall, till not a Confederate was to be 
 seen except those who were on the ground either killed or 
 wounded. They fired but one round, and that drew 
 blood from onlv two of the mountaineers. Keith himself is 
 said to have been far in the rear ; but had he been at the 
 front, and a braver man than he was, he could not have 
 held his men to their posts an instant longer. Human 
 nature at its best estate, is not a stable mark for more than 
 a hundred mountain rifles. 
 
A BATILE BY MOONLIGHT. 207 
 
 On the following day Keith abandoned the district, 
 leaving his dead and wounded to the mercy of the men he 
 had driven from their homes, and whose nearest kindred 
 he had mercilessly slaughtered. A reckoning had not yet 
 come for him, for ^' the mills of the gods grind slowly." 
 
208 A MOUNTAIN- WHITE HEKOINE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 SOME EXPLOITS OF COLONEL GEORGE W. KIRK. 
 
 Colonel George W. Kirk, the officer who was detailed 
 by General Burnside to organize the loyal mountaineers, 
 is a man not highly esteemed by the late disloyal element 
 of the North Carolina Alleghanies. Among more than a 
 score of intelligent and upright residents of that region 
 whom I conversed with, I failed to hear one allude to 
 him except in terms of the strongest reprobation. But 
 this may merely illustrate the fact that our opinions 
 depend very much upon the point from which we view 
 things, and are often warped by our individual interests 
 and convictions. 
 
 I* have no personal knowledge of Colonel Kirk; have 
 never so much as communicated with iiim ; but from an 
 unbiased investigation, aimed solely at the truth, I have 
 been led to the conclusion that he was brave, enterprising, 
 and humane, and also endowed with very many of the 
 qualities that gave Sumpter and Marion so honorable a 
 place in Southern history. His skill as a military man 
 was remarkable, his vigilance never slept, his activity was 
 untiring, and some of his exploits exhibit a dashing bold- 
 ness that recalls the days of knight-errantry, and would 
 have won him a brilliant reputation had he enjoyed 
 a wider field of operations. Moreover, the mountaineers 
 whom he commanded, had for him, and still have, an 
 
SOME EXPLOITS OF COLONEL GEORGE W. KIRK. 209 
 
 enthusiastic admiration, which of itself implies that he 
 possessed more than ordinary skill, bravery, and human- 
 ity. I have been obliged to form a very favorable esti- 
 mate of his character, but the facts I relate concern- 
 ing him, are derived from his enemies, as well as his 
 friends. 
 
 With only a handful of men Colonel Kirk entered 
 Madison county, but so rapidly did the mountain men 
 flock to his quarters that in a few days his force num- 
 bered four hundred, whom he at once proceeded to drill 
 in the tactics of regular warfare. The whereabouts of 
 Keith were not known ; but it was supposed that he had 
 joined Bragg at Chickamauga, and it was hoped that his 
 recent defeat, and the presence of so considerable a body 
 of Union troops, would deter any formidable number of 
 Confederates from again intruding upon the district. In 
 these circumstances, it not being in his nature to remain 
 inactive, Kirk proposed to his men an expedition 
 into East Tennessee, where Longstreet was besieging 
 Knoxville, and the disloyal element along the western 
 base of the mountains, inspirited by the result of the 
 recent battle of Chickamauga, was giving much trouble 
 to the Union inhabitants. The major part of his force 
 was composed of "outliers" — men who had resorted to 
 the woods rather than absent themselves from the vicinity 
 of their wives and children — but they did not now hesi- 
 tate to leave their homes, which is evidence of the ascend- 
 ency that Kirk had already — in less than two months — 
 acquired over them. It was now November, and the 
 mountain men remained in Tennessee until the following 
 27 
 
210 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 July, but their operations there do not fall within the 
 scope of my narrative. 
 
 Meanwhile, not a solitary Confederate soldier disturbed 
 the quiet of Madison county. Even Parson Justin had 
 relieved the district of his abhorred presence — abhorred 
 now that his dishonesty and treachery had become gen- 
 erally known in the community. From the day that, 
 baffled and crestfallen, he had slunk away from Mrs. 
 Hawkins's door, he was never again seen in that neighbor- 
 hood. Her scathing words had shown him the utter 
 hopelessness of any further pursuit of Sukey, and, realiz- 
 ing this, he probably began to reckon up the gains of his 
 wickedness. What had it profited him — the pilfering 
 from his distressed neighbors, the betrayal of the wretch 
 Keith, who had trusted him, and the incited murder of 
 the sons of his benefactress ? Then, possibly, the light 
 broke in upon him, and he saw himself in his naked vile- 
 ness ; and, unable to endure the sight, he fled away to 
 where he would not be continually reminded of his crimes. 
 However, if he felt remorse, it did not lead him to 
 repentance, for it was not long before he resumed his 
 career of fraud and treachery, though his crimes were 
 never again attended with such bloody consequences. 
 
 But the district had not yet taken final leave of the 
 butcher Keith, and his myrmidons. He passed through 
 it in July, 1864, on his way to the vicinity of Morganton, 
 in Burke county. He tarried but a single day, but in 
 that one day he left a trail of blood behind him. He 
 captured five men near the Shelton Laurel, and with no 
 reasonable motiv^e — in, apparently, pure wantonness — 
 
SOME EXPLOITS OF COLONEL GEORGE \V. KIRK. 211 
 
 "murdered all of them," says Daniel Ellis, "in a most 
 shocking and barbarous manner." 
 
 When this atrocity became known to Mrs. Hawkins, 
 she saw that the neighboriiood could have no permanent 
 peace and security without the constant presence in it of 
 a strong body of loyal soldiery ; and instantl}^ she decided 
 to set out to find Colonel Kirk, and induce him to return 
 to Tennessee. She did not know where he was, nor 
 what obstacles and dangers she might have to encounter 
 in reaching him ; but these considerations did not deter 
 her, and without delay she set out alone and unattended. 
 In her saddle-bags she put a few days' rations, and in a 
 sack behind her, a couple of bushels of corn for Sam to 
 nibble upon in the failure of other provender ; and thus 
 equipped, she plunged into a region supposed to be in- 
 fested with bushwhackers, and other disorderly characters, 
 among whom an unprotected woman had about the same 
 chance for safety as a solitary lamb among a pack of 
 wolves. 
 
 She did not even know the roads which she would 
 have to travel, never having been that way before ; but 
 taking the bridle-path down the Laurel river, she was 
 soon at the French Broad, along which then ran a good 
 highway to the Warm Springs. Here she found the im- 
 mense caravansary, which for many y(?ars has been a noted 
 summer resort, hermetically closed, and the mansion of 
 its proprietor — seated on a gentle hill at a little distance — 
 equally deserted. As she approached the latter, however, 
 she caught sight of an antiquated negro — too old to ran 
 away, and not valuable enough to be stolen — lolling 
 
212 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 under the shade of a tree near the dwelling. '^Good 
 morniDg, Uncle," she said to him. ^'Mornin', Missv," 
 he answered, raising himself, half-awake, upon his elbow. 
 
 " Are you the only one in the neighborhood, Uncle ? " 
 she inquired. 
 
 "[Nary anudder soul yere 'cept ole Pomp, Missy. Jess 
 now he'ni de sole 'prietor ob all dese housin an' lands," he 
 answered. " You sees, Missy, it wasn't bery healfy yere fur 
 massa when Gunnel Kirk corned round, so he tuck a 
 streak o' lightnin' inter de 'Federacy, and leff ebery ting 
 ter old Pomp. Dat was what Pomp telled de Gunnel, 
 when he stayed yere ober night wid him sogers — dat de 
 hull place b'long ter Pomp, an' he was Union clar fru ter 
 de back-bone." 
 
 '* And what did the colonel say to that ? " asked Mrs. 
 Hawkins, smiling. 
 
 " Why he jess laff, an' he say widout a doubt it orter 
 be so, 'case Pomp had a wuck'd fur it all him life. An' 
 den he ax ef massa was a good massa, an' Pomp telled 
 him dar wasn't never anudder so good sence de Lord called 
 ole Abram — him as we hab now fur President — an' dat 
 am de Lord's trufh, Missy, 'case Pomp brung him up 
 his own self." 
 
 " Then you are Union, and your master is Secesh," 
 said Mrs. Hawkins, laughing. "That' 3 a convenient 
 arrangement." 
 
 " Dat'm jess 'cordin' ter circumstances. Missy. Massa 
 say Pomp am like de great 'postle — all tings ter all men 
 — Union wid de Union, Secesh wid de Secesh. It doan't 
 make nary difference ter him, so long as he an' massa gits 
 
SOME EXPLOITS OF COLONEL GEORGE \V. KIRK. 213 
 
 off w id a hull skin. An' Pomp counts on doiii' dat 'case 
 Gunnel Kirk am a gemman — a clar gemman, Missy." 
 
 " And where is Colonel Kirk now, Uncle?" 
 
 "Doan't egzactly know, Missy — sum whar up ter Ten- 
 nessee. Pomp haint seed him fur a long, long while. 
 But you needn't be afeard ter travil dat way, fur de 
 Gunnel hab cleaned out all de Secesh, an' de bushwhackers. 
 Dey darn't come widin forty mile ob him ; fur dey say he 
 rides like de whirlygust, an' fights like de bery ole debil." 
 
 " Well, good-bye. Uncle," said Mrs. Hawkins, prepai-- 
 ing to ride away. ''But tell me, Uncle — where can I 
 get dinner ? " 
 
 " Ter Squar Ottinger's, 'bout two mile up de road — de 
 brick house, de only one any whar 'bout. You'll hab a 
 good dinner dar; but 'cuse me. Missy — you'd better not 
 leff dem know who you am, nor whar you'se gwine, fur 
 de Squar an' him wife am most ez much like de ole 
 'postle ez Pomp am." 
 
 " Then you know who I am ? " said Mrs. Hawkins. 
 
 " Yas, Missy, Pomp knowd you jess so soon as he sot 
 e^^es on you' boss, fur dat nag was along when you' brave 
 boys was yere arter gittin' Reuben Ellis frum under de 
 gallus. An' Pomp know whar you'm gwine, fur two ob 
 de Shelton men ez lied got off frum de killin', staid yere 
 ober night only yesterday. Dey was gwine on ter Gun- 
 nel Kirk, like you am ; an' Pomp hope you'll find him, 
 an' brung him back ter rid de y earth ob dat ole debil, 
 Keith." 
 
 "So, you are a good Union man, after all," said Mrs. 
 Hawkins, laughing. 
 
214 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 "Dat dejDends on wlio Pomp's a talkiu' ter, Missy," 
 answered the negro, grinning ; '' but he gwo fur you, an' 
 fur eberybody ez sarves de good Lord like you do. An' 
 so he make bold ter say. Missy, dat you'd better not stop 
 ter Ottinger's, but ride stret on ter Squar Allen's, ter 
 Wolf creek. You kin git dar afore sundown. De Squar 
 am a good, true man, an' so am bim sister, what keep 
 house fur him. Dey'll keep you ober night like a lady, 
 an' it'm likely de Squar kin tole you whar Gunnel Kirk 
 am ; fur he'm a Union man, an' he hain't afeard to say so." 
 
 Thankiug the old negro warmly for this timely advice, 
 Mrs. Hawkins rode on up the high-road, and about an 
 hour before sunset, alighted at the door-way of Squire 
 Allen's dwelling. Every traveler in that part of the 
 world knows that quaint, old-fashioned mansion, nestling 
 among the hills, its low roof and broad veranda, over- 
 hung with wide-branching trees that have given a grate- 
 ful shelter to numberless weary strangers for more than 
 half a century. Very pleasant is it to the tired wayfarer 
 to come upon it when all the outer world is sweltering in 
 the July heat^ and to have the breeze which comes down 
 the mountain gorge, fan his cheek with the cool breath 
 of October; but heated, dusty, and weary as she was, 
 more grateful to Mrs. Hawkins than that shady porch, 
 or that refreshing breeze, was the greeting she received 
 from the kindl}^ host and hostess of the mansion. No 
 sooner did she mention her name than they gave her 
 much such a welcome as, I suppose, awaits all good 
 men and women on their first entrance into the better 
 country. 
 
SOME EXPLOITS OF COLONEL GEOEGE W. KIRK. 215 
 
 Here she rested for the night, and soon after daybreak 
 on the following morning set out again on her jonrnejj 
 satisfied from the information her host had given her, 
 that she would come np with Reuben Ellis and Colonel 
 Kirk by nightfall. In this she was not disappointed. 
 She found them encamped on the French Broad, in Ten- 
 nessee, about a mile north of Newport. The men from 
 Shelton Laurel were there before her, so it was not neces- 
 sary to tell her errand. Colonel Kirk had already decided 
 to return into North Carolina, and his men were in readi- 
 ness to set out on the march on the following morning. 
 " But," he said to Mrs. Hawkins, •' it is not enough to 
 station a force in Madison county. We must end that 
 man's career, and that Ellis and I, and these brave boys, 
 will do within a fortnight." 
 
 At sunset on the second day following, Kirk and his 
 command went into camp on the open ground in the rear 
 of Mrs. Hawkins's dwelling, and that very night Reuben 
 Ellis, disguised, and mounted on the back of Sam, set 
 out on a trip below the Blue Ridge, to ascertain the where- 
 abouts of Keith and his forces. On foot, and along 
 secluded by-paths the journey would have been extremely 
 perilous, for it was venturing into the very heart of the 
 Confederacy ; but on horseback, and along traveled roads, 
 it seemed to Colonel Kirk nothing short of foolhardy. 
 " It won't do," he said to Ellis, '* you won't be gone a 
 day before they have you." "I wouldn't venture it," 
 answered Ellis, " with any other horse in the known world ; 
 but this pony will keep silent, and do just as I tell him. 
 
216 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 Besides, I shall travel only at night, and I know every 
 foot of the way, if, as the word goes, he is near Mor- 
 ganton." 
 
 " Well," said Kirk, ^' the chances are if we don't strike 
 him soon, he'll join some larger body, and so escape us. 
 But the danger is great, and I wouldn't like to lose yon, 
 Ellis." 
 
 " Never fear," replied Reuben, '^ we'll be back within 
 a week — I and the pony," and with these words he rode 
 off into the darkness. 
 
 A week passed and nothing was seen or heard of Ellis, 
 and then three more days went away without tidings 
 of him, and Mrs. Hawkins and Colonel Kirk were about 
 giving him up for lost, when just at dark one cloudy 
 day, the sentry down the road was heard to give a succes- 
 sion of loud shouts, and in a moment more Ellis rode up 
 to the door- way of Mrs. Hawkins. She had heard the 
 shouts, and hastened to the door, and then, as he sprang 
 from the back of Sam, she threw her arms about him, and 
 with glad tears, cried " Oh ! my boy, my dear Reuben ! 
 What should I have done if they had taken you f " 
 
 There was joy that night in that household, in that 
 camp, and among those mountains wherever the news had 
 spread, over the marvelous escape of Reuben Ellis. 
 
 For two days and nights he had lain concealed in a 
 clump of laurels, while the Confederates, having sur- 
 rounded the woods, were beating its every bush, and ex- 
 ploring its every little cluster of timber. One moon- 
 light night he had fallen among a party of twenty, well 
 mounted. Three of their bullets went through his hat, 
 
SOME EXPLOITS OF COLONEL GEORGE W. KIRK. 217 
 
 one cut off a lock of hair just above his ear, and an- 
 other grazed the flank of Sam ; but, thanks to the pony's 
 heels, he got away uninjured. A still narrower escape 
 he had at the base of Table Rock Mountain. All of fifty 
 surrounded him there, and he got away only by leaping 
 from a high bank into the Linville river, and then by 
 fording, and swimming several miles down the stream — 
 going back on his route — until he struck a wooded ravine. 
 There he lay for two days and one night, hearing the 
 baying of the hounds all around him. Had he not balked 
 their scent by taking to the water, his career would, then 
 and there, have ended. 
 
 These were some of the incidents of the perilous trip, 
 and at first sight it may well be accounted foolhardy. It 
 is its result that lifts it into the heroic, for Ellis had looked 
 down on Keith's encampment, and counted the men that 
 were with him. They numbered seven hundred — Keith's 
 own command, and that of some superior officer. But 
 they were without intrenchments, and resting in absolute 
 security, knowing nothing of any Union force nearer than 
 Tennessee, a hnndred and fifty miles distant. 
 
 That night in the sitting-room of Mrs. Hawkins Col- 
 onel Kirk and Reuben Ellis discussed the situation. The 
 country through which the Union troops would have to 
 pass thronged with Confederates. Seven hundred were 
 near Morganton, fifteen hundred or two thousand were at 
 Asheville, and snfialler bands were scattered everywhere 
 througliont the region east of Buncombe county. Kirk 
 had only three hundred and twenty-five men, and by 
 the circuitous route he would have to travel to fiank 
 28 
 
218 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 the force at Ashe villa, he would traverse nearly two hun- 
 dred miles of hostile country, where intelligence of his 
 every movement would be quickly communicated to his 
 armed- enemies. Thus, if he should reach unmolested 
 his objective point, and succeed in defeating more than 
 twice his own number, he would still have the Asheville 
 garrison in his rear, and doubtless be speedily surrounded 
 by several thousand enemies. It would be a desperate 
 enterprise. The Confederates speak of it as foolhardy ; 
 but a more appropriate term is heroic; for every step 
 was carefully calculated, every contingency clearly fore- 
 seen and provided for. Kirk well understood the terri- 
 ble odds against him, but he thoroughly knew his soldiers. 
 They had been long enough together to become merged 
 into one individuality, of which he was the brain, they 
 the body ; and he counted on his own skill, and on the 
 eager desire of his men to wreak vengeance upon Keith 
 and his myrmidons. 
 
 So, on the following morning, with his three hundred 
 and twenty-five men, he set out on the hazardous ex- 
 pedition. Striking due east into Yancey county, he 
 crossed Mitchell county a few miles south of Bakersville, 
 and, a little before noon of the second day's ride, forded 
 the North Fork of the Catawba river. Here he fell in 
 with an old hunter who, suspecting his errand, volun- 
 teered to guide him by an unfrequented, but direct route, 
 to a wooded hill in the rear of Keith's encampment. Two 
 hours before sunset tbe troop crossed Linville river, at the 
 point where Ellis came near to falling into the hands 
 of the Confederates ; and in another hour they stood upon 
 
SOME EXPLOITS OF COLONEL GEORGE W. KIRK. 219 
 
 the slope of Table Eock, and looked down through the 
 clear air upon the steeples of Morganton. 
 
 Morganton was then, and is now, a thriving town of a 
 thousand people, and the centre of a wide agricultural re- 
 gion. A country road leads directly to it, but if Kirk 
 followed it, the danger was that his men might chance 
 upon some one who would hasten before them to Keith, 
 and apprise him of their coming. Therefore, they climbed 
 another half mile up the mountain, and waited there for 
 darkness to come on, when, guided by the old hunter, 
 they could hope to escape all notice from the inhabitants. 
 
 Had they been in the mood to enjoy the picturesque in 
 nature, their eyes might have feasted, while they were 
 waiting tliere for the sun to go down, upon a view beyond 
 all comparison more wild and sublime than any to be seen 
 in North Carolina. But I doubt if they were in such a 
 mood, for darkness no sooner fell than they set out again 
 on their march. Scarcely more than fifteen miles now 
 separated them from the Confederate encampment, and 
 they moved forward slowly and cautiously. Kirk riding 
 by the side of the guide, and Ellis directly in his rear, 
 each with his pistol ready to pronounce his doom at the 
 first evidence his actions should give of treachery. 
 
 But, no treachery was intended or attempted, and just 
 at midnight they fell upon the sleeping Confederates, and 
 killed or captured the entire number, together with all 
 their stores and animals. Not a man or an officer escaped. 
 So clean a sweep, effected by a greatly inferior force, in 
 the heart of the enemy's country, did not, so far as I know, 
 occur in any of the minor operations of the civil war. 
 
220 A MOUKTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 Colonel Kirk had now before him the most difficult and 
 dangerous part of his adventurous expedition. How was 
 he to break through the cordon of Confederate forces, 
 which,, within thirtj-six hours, would be drawn closely 
 around him ? But both attack and escape liad been care- 
 fully planned in the sitting-room of Mrs. Hawkins, and, 
 1 am told, that all resulted precisely as he had foreseen, 
 except that he was disappointed in the large number of 
 prisoners captured. He had planned not to return by 
 the way he came, for he counted that intelligence of his 
 forward march would be at once sent to Asheville, and 
 that doubtless, his object would be guessed, and a strong 
 force be moving upon his rear before he should arrive at 
 Morganton. But, he was informed, that south of the 
 Swannanoa there was no considerable body of Cogifeder- 
 ates, and that a good road led through Hickory Nut Gap 
 to the upper French Broad, and thence on to Waynesville. 
 This road he intended to take, and thus flank Asheville 
 on the south, while the troops from that place should be 
 looking for him in the vicinity of Morganton. Once at 
 Waynesville ten hours in advance of pursuit, he would be 
 in safety, for a ride of thirty hours along the Big Pigeon 
 would bring him to General Gillam, at Knoxville. 
 
 What embarrassed Xirk was that which he had not fore- 
 seen — his large number of prisoners. His coming upon 
 the Confederates had been a complete surprise, and half- 
 awake, and cut off from their arms, they had been able to 
 inflict no damage upon their captors. Therefore, every 
 mountaineer was fit for duty, but each man had to guard 
 two others, while galloping at the rapid rate of six or eight 
 
SOME EXPLOITS OF COLONEL GEORGE W. KIRK. 221 
 
 miles an lionr. But thus they marched — each Union 
 trooper between two Confederates — the latter riding their 
 own horses, and bearing their own unloaded muskets — and 
 in less tlian tliree days, they arrived, not a man missing, 
 at Knoxville. Colonel Keith had been, all the way, under 
 the special guard of Reuben Ellis. Only this had saved 
 his life, for many of the men had sworn to execute sum- 
 mary vengeance upon liim before they should reach Ten- 
 nessee. The prisoners were speedily transferred to John- 
 son's Island, and there Keith had leisure to reflect upon 
 his crimes until the war was over. 
 
 In its boldness, celerity, and astonishing success, this 
 raid of Colonel Kirk's bears a striking resemblance to the 
 famous expedition of King's Mountain ; and, what is very 
 remarkable, a majority of the men in Kirk's command 
 were direct descendants of the heroes, who, in that famous 
 battle, turned the tide of the Revolution. 
 
 Within a fortnight from his setting out on this expedi- 
 tion, Colonel Kirk was back at his previous encampment 
 near Newport ; but he soon removed his quarters to Warm 
 Springs, in order to be within striking distance of both 
 Madison county, and the region along the foot of the 
 mountains. As he had anticipated, when his advance into 
 North Carolina became known at AshevilJe, the officer in 
 command there sent out a strong force to intercept his re- 
 turn from Morganton. This force going east passed him 
 on the flank, as he was marching westward through 
 Hickory Nut Gap, and not more than ten miles from 
 Asheville. Great was the universal chagrin when it was 
 known that he had escaped with so large a body of prison- 
 
222 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 ere ; and no sooner was it noised abroad that he had taken 
 up his quarters at Warm Springs, than the Confederates 
 resolved to equip a force for his capture or destruction. 
 
 Coloiiel Kirk was known to have not more than three 
 hundred and fifty men, quartered in the hotel at the 
 Springs, with no other defenses than such as could be 
 foi-med by barricading the doors and windows. A force 
 twice as large as his own ought, certainly, to effect his cap- 
 ture, if it should come upon him unawares and completely 
 surround his position. This being clear to the Confeder- 
 ates, a body of eight hundred picked men, well-armed and 
 well-mounted, set out about noon one day for Warm 
 Springs, by the road along the French Broad river. They 
 arrived at Marshall about an hour before sunset, and 
 there halted to refresh themselves and their animals. 
 
 While the troop was waiting there they were seen by 
 a little woman, in modest attire, who happened to look 
 out from the door-way of a log-house on the brow of the 
 mountain, about a mile and a half away, as the bird flies. 
 She gazed at them long and earnestly. What could have 
 brought that number of gray-coated soldiers to Marshall ? 
 She sat down upon a bench before the house, a little boy 
 beside her, to watch their movements. Soon she observed 
 them divide into two bodies of about equal numbers, and 
 set forward dowm the river. On arriving at the black- 
 smith's shop, she saw the forward body turn to the right 
 up the road that climbs the Walnut Mountains, while the 
 other kept directly on by the highway along the river. 
 
 Instantly the truth flashed upon her. The Confeder- 
 ates were marching to attack Colonel Kirk, and they had 
 
SOME EXPLOITS OF COLONEL GEORGE W. KIRK. 223 
 
 separated into two bodies in order to completely surround 
 him. If they did not halt by the way they would be 
 upon him by midnight, and taken by surprise, and by so 
 large a force, his chance would be desperate. He must 
 be warned; but who could be found to tell him of his 
 danger. There was not a man within a mile, and time 
 was precious. She must herself go, and go through the 
 woods — fifteen miles and more — for the soldiers were 
 on the only two roads that led to Kirk's head-quarters. 
 This resolution taken, she led the little boy into the house, 
 told him his mother might be away all night, but he must 
 be a little man, and take good care of his little brother; and 
 then, putting her sun-bonnet upon her head, and locking 
 the cottage door, she set out along the brow of the moun- 
 tain to follow the soldiers who had taken the route along 
 the river. The little boy was Robby — now about eight 
 years old — the little woman was Phebe Ellis. 
 
 The soldiers were evidently in no haste to reach their 
 destination, for they traveled at so slow a pace that Phebe 
 had no difficulty in keeping up with them. Now and 
 then they were hidden by some overhanging cliff, or 
 abrupt bend of the road and river ; but she kept them 
 nearly continuously in sight until they arrived at Stack- 
 house's, a summer resort perched upon a high bluff, less 
 than five miles from Warm Springs. Here the road is 
 shut in by the river on one side, and steep cliffs on the 
 other, with not much more of level space than will allow 
 a couple of vehicles to pass abreast ; but in this narrow 
 space Phebe saw the troop halt, and prepare to go into 
 bivouac along the highway. The sight relieved her mind 
 
224 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 greatly, for it assured her that it might be several hours 
 before they moved forward upon Kirk's forces. She had 
 heard that night attacks were most often made in the still 
 hours just before morning ; for then men sleep the most 
 soundly, and this she thought to be the intention of the 
 Confederates. 
 
 Phebe had now come nearly ten miles, the most of the 
 distance through open woods where it was not difficult to 
 find her way, or keep her footing, but the remainder of 
 her route — all of five miles — would be over the rough- 
 est and wildest portion of the Walnut Mountains, through 
 tangled undergrowth, across rapid streams, along steep 
 rocky ledges, and amidst a dense forest where the wolf, the 
 catamount, and the panther, had their lairs, and roamed 
 for their prey after nightfall. No woman had ever invaded 
 those gloomy woods ; nor even a man, except by daylight, 
 and armed with a trusty rifle. She would have tried to 
 descend the cliffs some distance below, and thus reach the 
 high-road in advance of the encampment ; but she had 
 observed several mounted men go dowai this road, and she 
 knew they would interrupt her progress. She had, there- 
 fore, no alternative but to cross that dismal mountain. 
 So, giving one prayer to God, and one glance up at the 
 moon to judge how long she would have its light, she strode 
 forward into the gloomy forest. How she got through I 
 do not know, and probably she could not have told had 
 she been questioned ; but some invisible power must have 
 guided and guarded her, for a little before midnight she 
 emerged from the forest and approached the Union picket 
 at the crossing of the French Broad river. He was a 
 
SOME EXPLOITS OF COLONEL GEORGE W. KIRK. 225 
 
 Madison county man, and he knew her. " Why, Phebe ! " 
 he fiaid, " ar' hit ye ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Phebe; " I want to see my husband." 
 
 "He hain't hyar," said the man. " He's away sence 
 yester night — up beyant Newport, I reckon." 
 
 " Then, won't you take me ter Gunnel Kirk ? I must 
 see him directly." 
 
 "Can't leave my post, Phebe," he answered, "but ye 
 kin gwo stret across th' bridge, an' ter them two winders 
 whar ye see th' lights. Thet's th' Gunners office — yo'll 
 find him thar. An' doan't ye be afeard ; if they halt ye, 
 just say, ' Ghrismus is a comin' ' — that's the password for 
 ter night." 
 
 She was stopped at the farther end of the bridge, and on 
 two other occasions ; but on each occasion she spoke the 
 magic words, and w^as allowed to go forward. Then she 
 ascended the long veranda that runs along the entire front 
 of the huge hotel, and rapped at the door of the room 
 whence the light proceeded. ''Gome in," issued from 
 the interior, and opening the door she entered a large, 
 well-lighted apartment. Three young men in blue uni- 
 forms were in the room, two seated upon chairs canted 
 against the wall, the other lolling upon a sofa, in an 
 easy attitude. The latter rose to his feet as she entered, 
 and turned to Phebe with a look of inquiiy ; this look, 
 however, soon changed to one of astonishment, as he and 
 the others scanned her appearance. She had lost her 
 bonnet, her hair was disheveled, brier scratches seamed 
 her face, her dress was torn in many places, her shoes 
 
 were cut through and through, and her feet, lacerated 
 29 
 
226 A MOFNTAIX-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 bj the sharp, flinty rocks, left blood-stains on the floor as 
 she moved forward to a vacant chair, and sinking into it, 
 said faintly, " "Will you take me ter Cunnel Kirk ? " 
 
 " Certainly, Madam," answered the young man, promptly 
 opening an inner door, and exchanging a few words with 
 some one in the adjoining room. In a moment he turned 
 again to Phebe, saying, " Step this way, Madam. The 
 colonel is here, and will see you." 
 
 She entered the room, took the first convenient chair, 
 and looked at the colonel for a moment without speak- 
 ing. He was seated at a desk, littered over with papers, 
 and engaged in writing; but rising as Phebe seated 
 herself he said, " Good evening. Madam. What can I 
 do for you ? " 
 
 "I am Peuben Ellis's wife," she answered, "and I 
 have come near fifteen miles through the woods since 
 dark ter warn ye that the Rebels are coming upon ye." 
 
 " What ! " he exclaimed ; " fifteen miles over the Wal- 
 nut Mountains ? Couldn't you have come by the road ? " 
 
 " No, sir," she answered, " they are on both roads — 
 the one along the French Broad, and that down the 
 Laurel. On either of them they would have stopped me." 
 
 ''Well, it's plain," he said, "that you're been through 
 briers and underbrush." 
 
 "I have, sir,'' she answered, "and over a route that 
 even a man would find it hard ter traveh Many a time 
 I sank down tired out with falling over logs, and sharp 
 rocks in the dark ; and I never could have got through 
 but for thinking of you as is fighting for us, and — of 
 my husband." 
 
SOME EXPLOITS OF COLONEL GEORGE W. KIRK. 227 
 
 " It was very brave — it was heroic, of yon, Madam," he 
 said, resuming his seat. " Please tell me all about it ; 
 where the Rebels are, and how many there are of them." 
 
 She then related to him what is already known to the 
 reader, his keen eye meanwhile fixed intently, but kindly, 
 upon her. He evidently believed her report, and was 
 already revolving in his mind what measures he should 
 take in the emergency. When she had concluded he said, 
 **Ton are very tired, and I dislike to fatigue you further, 
 but I would like to have you tell this to some of my 
 officers. I will give you a room and a bed directly after- 
 ward where you can stay until you are thoroughly rested." 
 
 She assented, and going to the door, he spoke to one 
 of his orderlies. Heturning to his seat, he said to her, 
 *' This is very commendable in you, Mrs. ElHs. Ko doubt 
 you have saved the lives of a good many of us ; but you 
 may be easy about your husband. He is safe, whatever 
 happens. I have sent him down the river to scatter some 
 bushwhackers. I haven't a man equal to him at that 
 business." 
 
 In about a quarter of an hour several officers entered 
 the room, among them, as Phebe saw by their uniforms, 
 a major, and four captains. When she had briefly retold 
 her story, one of the captains — a man past middle age, 
 with a stern, hard-featured face, and a somewhat cynical 
 expression, said to her abruptly: ^'How do you know 
 there were four hundred men in each squad ? " 
 
 "The men that went along the river," she answered, 
 "rode five abreast, and I counted eighty rows of them ; and 
 I reckoned thar was as many that went up the mountain." 
 
228 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEKOENE. 
 
 Then the captain plied her with a rapid succession of 
 similar questions, till Phebe, w^orn out with fatigue, and 
 dazzled by the unaccustomed sight of so much gilt lace, 
 became confused and gave contradictory rej^lies. Turn- 
 ing to Colonel Kirk, the captain then said, " She is a fraud. 
 She contradicts herself. She is not the w^fe of Ellis. It 
 is some trap the Kebels are trying to spring upon us." 
 
 The colonel smiled, and looked approvingly at Phebe, 
 but said nothing. Seeing that he made no reply, the 
 major spoke. " She is no fraud," he said, in a decided 
 tone. ^' If you think so, look at her torn clothes, and the 
 blood trickling from her shoes. I tell you she is honest, 
 and more than honest — she is heroic. J^ot ten women 
 in North Carolina would have done what she has done ; 
 and I think I recognize her — I think I have seen her 
 with Reuben Ellis." 
 
 His kindly words restored Phebe to self-possession, and 
 she said, '' I have seen you, Major Pollins — before the 
 war, ter Marshall. But Cunnel, if yon doubt my being 
 Phebe Ellis, send for Jeems Burns, the sentry ter the 
 further side of the bridge. He knows me." 
 
 "I don't doubt you, Mrs. Ellis," said Colonel Kirk ; " I 
 haven't doubted you for a moment. The captain has no 
 faith in man or womaii ; but he's a gentleman, and he'll 
 apologize to you when we are through with this business." 
 Then, speaking to his officers, he added, *'Mrs. Ellis is 
 right. The Pebels, four hundred strong, are at Stack- 
 house's ; another body has come down the mountain road, 
 and is by this time in the woods, on the rising ground in 
 our rear. They intend to come upon us together, in 
 
SOME EXPLOITS OF COLONEL GEORGE W. KIRK. 229 
 
 front and rear, and crush us as between an upper and a 
 nether millstone, just before daybreak. Counting out 
 the eighty men who are away with Ellis, we haven't three 
 hundred to meet these eight hundred. Now, what shall 
 we do, gentlemen ? Let me hear first from you, captain, 
 and be good enough to be brief, for (drawing out his 
 watch) it is now nearly one o'clock, and we've not more 
 than four hours before us." 
 
 " My plan w^ould be," said the captain, " to put the 
 men under arms at once ; post fifty at this end of the 
 bridge, one hundred at the rear of the building, and hold 
 the rest in readiness to defend whichever point should be 
 first attacked. Then, at daybreak, I would send the men 
 to bed, to sleep off the false alarm." 
 
 " Thus saith doubting Thomas," said the colonel, smil- 
 ing. "Now, major, what do you advise? " 
 
 '^That we march at once along the river road with 
 every man we have, whip the rebels at Stackhouse's, and 
 when that is done, turn back here, and do the same to 
 the other four hundred." 
 
 '^ But, the Rebels in our rear wouldn't stay where they 
 are," said Colonel Kirk. " They would hear the firing, 
 and .be down upon us, perhaps before we had flogged 
 those on the river. Thus we might be caught between 
 two superior bodies on that narrow road, where it would 
 be impossible to manoeuvre our horses, or to escape, if 
 they proved to be too many for us.' ' " Captain," address- 
 ing another officer, ''now let us hear from you." 
 
 "It seems to me," said this officer, "that the captain 
 and the major have suggested the only two courses that 
 
230 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 are open to us. As time is precious I propose that you 
 put the thing to vote. It will save talk. I shall vote 
 with Major Kollins." 
 
 The majority were in favor of the major's suggestion, 
 and seeing this he asked the colonel for his decision. 
 
 " Before I give it," he said, " I want to ask Mrs. Ellis 
 a few questions. I have detained you from your bed for 
 this reason, Mrs. Ellis, but I'll keep you now only a mo- 
 ment longer. How many men did you notice to ride 
 down the road to act, apparently, as sentries ? " 
 
 " I saw only four, sir," she answered. *' Some may 
 have gone before I took notice ; but it's not likely, 'case I 
 kept my eyes on them." 
 
 *' And could you see how far they w^ent down the 
 road ? " 
 
 " I watched them turn the first bend in the river below 
 Stackhouse's," said Phebe, *' I couldn't see any further." 
 
 " Then they are stretched along the road for a mile or 
 more," said the colonel. " You said that they stacked 
 their arms — where did they stack them ?" 
 
 " Where the road narrows below Stackhouse's store, 
 and thar they hitched thar horses. They went ter cook- 
 ing thar suppers over against the store. I' m sure of that — 
 I saw some of them go into it for something." 
 
 ' ' And the store is about tw^o or three hundred feet 
 above where they stacked their muskets, and they, no 
 doubt, went to sleep there," said Colonel Kirk. " Now, 
 gentlemen, instead of adopting either of your plans, I 
 will give you a better one. Let Major Rollins get the 
 men under arms at once^ and station all of them in the 
 
SOME EXPLOITS OF COLONEL GEORGE W. KIRK. 231 
 
 rear of this house, except a small squad that he shall post 
 on the hill to observe any movement of the Rebels in the 
 woods. Meanwhile, I will take a dozen men that I know, 
 and who know me, mount them on our best horses, each 
 one with two sixteen- shooters, two revolvers in his belt, ^ 
 and two in liis holster, and will light down on those 
 sleeping fellows at Stackhouse's. We will steal upon the 
 sentinels, and secure them without noise, and then re- 
 mount, and move softly till we are between the Kebels 
 and their arms, when we will swoop upon them with 
 such yells and firing as will make them think us a whole 
 regiment. Woke out of sleep by such a din they'll scat- 
 ter to the four winds — all that are not winged by our 
 carbines or revolvers. Having done that, we'll toss their 
 stacked arms into the river, and gallop back here, and 
 help you to whip the other four hundred." 
 
 " Suppose you don't come back. Colonel ? " said the 
 grim-visaged captain. "' Suppose the Rebels are not will- 
 ing to be caught napping ? '* 
 
 " Then we'll take to our heels," answered Colonel 
 Kirk. "It won't be any disgrace for tkirteen to run 
 from four hundred. In that case we'll adopt your plan 
 of fighting it out here. Now, gentlemen, each to his 
 command, and get your men ready. We'll make mince- 
 meat of those fellows before morning. Mrs. Ellis, I will 
 show you now to your room, and when this business is 
 over, we will all very heartily thank you for the very 
 great service you have done to us, and the country." 
 
 Before two o'clock Colonel Kirk, with his twelve picked 
 men, set out up the river, and by half -past three, he re- 
 
232 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 turned, having carried out his programme in the minutest 
 details, without a man so much as wounded. Meanwhile, 
 the four hundred Confederates, whom he had rightly 
 judged to be posted in the woods in his rear, hearing the 
 firing, had moved forward, and engaged the force under 
 Major Hollins. The conflict was at its height, when 
 Kirk returned with his twelve men, and rushed impetu- 
 ously upon the flank of the Confederates. Probably sup- 
 posing that his small squad was merely the advance of a 
 larger reinforcement, they fled in all directions, leaving 
 twenty dead, and upwards of thirty wounded upon the 
 ground, and losing a hundred prisoners in the pursuit 
 that followed. This, one of the most brilliant of the 
 minor conflicts of the war, was the last of civil strife in 
 Madison county. The Union forces in the following 
 spring, with Colonel Kirk, and Daniel and Reuben Ellis 
 amons: them, drove out the Confederates from all the 
 mountain region, but the clash of arms did not come near 
 the blood-stained district which has been the especial 
 scene of this history. 
 
CONCLUSION. 233 
 
 CHAPTEE XIY. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 It only remains to say a few words in relation to the 
 subsequent career of some of the characters in this history. 
 
 Parson Justin had migrated to the adjoining county. 
 Of' his life there during the last year of the war I know 
 next to nothing. As the district was then in the hands 
 of the Confederates, he doubtless had no conscientious 
 scruples against openly declaring himself a Disunionist ; 
 and he probably kept soul and body together on what 
 remained to him of the "blood-money" he had received 
 for the lives of the sons of Mrs. Hawkins. But when Lee 
 had surrendered, and North Carolina had come under 
 military rule, it became safe for a conscientious man to 
 possess some decided principles. Then the Parson sud- 
 denly blossomed out a zealous Loyalist. He went to the 
 military commandant of the district, and gave him an 
 inventory of his losses and sacrifices in the cause of the 
 Union ; told him how he had risked his life in aiding un- 
 willing conscripts, and escaped prisoners, and impover- 
 ished himself to feed starving Loyalists ; and in confirma- 
 tion of this last assertion he pointed to the one lean cow, 
 and scanty stock of household goods that comprised his 
 entire worldly possessions. It was the policy of the Gov- 
 ernment to heal the wounds of the war, and it healed his 
 by a small appointment in the Internal Revenue service. 
 30 
 
234 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 Tlieii Parson Justin throve, and so did the illicit dis- 
 tillers throughout his district. The mountain "moon- 
 shiners " are noted as ugly customers to handle ; but they 
 never* gave the Parson any difficulty. The coon up the 
 tree said to the famous marksman, Captain Scott, "If 
 your name is Scott, don't fire, for I'll come down dii'ectly." 
 So the distillers "came down" as the Parson made his 
 rounds, with his eyes shut, but his hand open. 
 
 At last it reached the ears of the Kevenue Department 
 that its trusted official was in league with the law-break- 
 ers, and the Parson was suddenly asked to render an 
 account of his stewardship. That he could not conven- 
 iently do ; and, seeing that he was about to be removed, 
 he resigned in order to save enough reputation to set up 
 again as a Gospel minister in that mountain region. There, 
 it may be, he is to-day, preaching the Gospel according to 
 Justin. 
 
 Soon after the close of the war there came to settle in this 
 mountain region a gentleman from Pittsylvania county, 
 Yirginia, who w^as acquainted with the culture of tobacco. 
 He knew that the finest varieties require a soil composed 
 of a mixture of sand, clay and gravel, an altitude above 
 the line of eight hundred feet, with a sunny exposure, 
 cool nights- heavy dews, and an absence of rain in the sea- 
 son of harvest. He found that in this region the meteoric 
 rocks abound, such as granite, syenite, dionite, and crys- 
 talline limestone, which give the requisite soil, and that 
 the other conditions were present in temperate nights, a 
 copious summer rainfall, and a dry September. At 
 
CONCLUSION. 235 
 
 once he planted a few acres of fresh mountain land with 
 the broad-leaved Oronoko tobacco, and to his surprise, it 
 yielded a luxuriant crop of a variety superior to even the 
 famous "golden-leaf" of Orange, Warren, and Rocking- 
 ham counties. 
 
 The following season he planted a still larger acreage, 
 with even more gratifying results ; and then the news 
 spread, and every little farmer with land having a 
 southern exposure, embarked in the raising of tobacco, 
 with the result that his every acre, upon an expenditure 
 of not exceeding fifty dollars, brought him an average 
 return of from one hundred and fifty to three hundred. 
 Farms that might have been bought at three dollars per 
 acre, became suddenly worth all the way from twenty to 
 a hundred dollars, and the whole region was converted 
 into a vast Eldorado — a veritable land of the ''golden 
 leaf." 
 
 Nearly all of Mrs. Hawkins's extensive plantation had 
 a southern exposure, and the other conditions of soil and 
 climate that are requisite to the successful cultivation of 
 the golden weed. In these circuuistances she said one 
 day to Reuben Ellis, " This large plantation is mostly 
 lying idle, while it is capable of yielding such large re- 
 turns with proper attention. I have no one to leave it 
 to but you and Sukey ; and had you not better come here 
 at once, and take its entire management ? What land 
 you do not care to cultivate yourself, you can let out to 
 our poor neighbors, who, now that farms here have be- 
 come so valuable, will soon be driven off from the little 
 places they have squatted upon, by the non-resident 
 
236 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 owners. They can build themselves little cabins here, 
 and live in peace and contentment. You can put up for 
 yourself another house on the knoll at the east of the 
 barn, ^o there will not be too many of us in one house- 
 hold ; but Robby, as we have agreed, is always to remain 
 with his grandmother." 
 
 In but little more than a year there were all of forty 
 tenant-farmers upon the large plantation, every one of 
 them paying a certain ground-rent per acre, and realizing 
 a return of more than twenty fold as the reward of his 
 industry. Thus it was that Reuben Ellis became a large 
 land-owner, and before many years, the wealthiest man 
 in all that mountain region. Sukey, however, though 
 she was heir to the half of all those broad acres, remained 
 the humble school-mistress; but by dint of hard study 
 she had become so proficient in her profession, that she 
 would, no doubt, have passed examination by even a 
 New England school committee. She took delight in her 
 work, because she saw the children growing up about her 
 intelligent, and respectable men and women ; but she 
 took even greater delight, when her school hours were 
 over, in going about from house to house, among the 
 sick and the dying, ministering to their necessities, and 
 discoursing to them of the priceless treasure she had 
 found within the iids of her little Bible — the Almighty 
 Friend, who had given to her, wild and wayward as she 
 had been, and hampered by the heritage of many genera- 
 tions of ignorance and evil, the clear vision of the chil- 
 dren of light, and the peace and joy that come to the true 
 Christian. For she had found a truth that is not born of 
 
CONCLUSION. 237 
 
 the ^ve senses, and has not so much as entered into the 
 dreams of modern agnosticism. 
 
 I made the acquaintance of the lady whom I have styled 
 "Mrs. Hawkins" while journeying on horseback in the 
 summer of 1883, over one of the roughest roads that cross 
 the Southern Alleghanies. I was investigating the early 
 history of the South-west, and tracing the footsteps of 
 John Sevier, who had traversed that wild region in 
 1782, on his remarkable exj^edition against the Erati 
 Cherokees. I had journeyed for about eight miles 
 through an almost unbroken forest, which had probably 
 not materially changed its aspect since it was looked 
 upon, a hundred years before, by !N^olichucky Jack and 
 his little band of riflemen, when, suddenly, I came upon 
 a broad mountain-side covered with fields of growing 
 tobacco, and dotted, every here and there, almost to the 
 very summit, by trim, well-kept log cottages. On de- 
 tached knolls on the lower slope of this mountain, and 
 near the high-road, stood two roomy log mansions, sur- 
 rounded by trees, and covered to the very roof with the 
 clambering Virginia creeper and wild honeysuckle. 
 
 Some men were at work in a near-by field, and, halting 
 my horse abreast of them, I inquired who were the occu- 
 pants of the two mansions. They told me that the man- 
 sions, and about all the land I could see, were the prop- 
 erty of the persons I have called Eeuben Ellis and Mrs. 
 Hawkins ; and they further said that the lady would 
 deem a call from me no intrusion, for she kept open-house 
 to everybody, and especially to strangers. Thereupon, 
 
238 A MOUNTAIN- WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 Laving already beard much of her, I rode up to the nearer 
 of the two mansions, and encountered the lady whose life 
 I have imperfectly detailed in this volume. 
 
 Mrs. Hawkins pressed me to dine with her, and at din- 
 ner I met a well-dressed, well-mannered, and intelligent 
 young man of about twenty-five, and a comel}^, vivacious, 
 and remarkably agreeable woman, whose hair was slightly 
 touched with gray, and who laughingly told me that she 
 was too old to catch a beau, seeing that she was past fifty. 
 The young man was the little fellow, Kobby, who cared 
 for his younger brother the night and day that his mother 
 was away on her perilous trip to Kirk's head-quarters ; 
 and the comely middle-aged woman was Sukey. 
 
 After dinner Sukey invited me into her school-room, 
 where about fifty boys and girls had gathered from the 
 recess they were accustomed to take during the family's 
 dinner-hour; and when I came to ride aw^ay, Mrs. Haw- 
 kins urged me to come again, and to bring with me the 
 ladies of my household. This I did again and again, and 
 I never came away without having received from this lady 
 some ideas that were worth pondering; for she had a 
 clear, comprehensive mind, and her very isolation from 
 the w^orld had seemed to give her the ability to take broad, 
 bird's-eye views of things. On one of these occasions 
 she gave me some thoughts which may form a fitting con- 
 clusion to this history. 
 
 Slavery, she said, had before the war become so inter- 
 twined with the social system of the South, and the mon- 
 eyed interests of the North, that it could not be extirpated 
 without a convulsion that should shake the nation from 
 
CONCLUSION. 239 
 
 centre to circumference. It was inconsistent with our char- 
 acter as a free people, and it had to be brought to an end, 
 or our country would miss its destiny as the apostle to all 
 the world of civil and religious liberty. But how could it 
 be brought to an end, with the North content to let it 
 alone, and its continued existence secured to the South by 
 the Constitution ? How, except by the mad folly of the 
 slave-holders themselves. A parasite had grown up around 
 the oak, and this parasite, carefully tended and fostered 
 by the slave-aristocrac}^, was that which had at last stran- 
 gled the gigantic evil. 
 
 This parasite was States Rights. It originated from 
 the fact that the Thirteen Colonies, though all under tlie 
 Dominion of Great Britain, had each a separate and inde- 
 pendent existence. The war of the Revolution forced 
 them into a union; but it was a union as States and not 
 as a people. The Confederacy they formed had neither 
 strength nor vitality, and it fell to pieces of its own weak- 
 ness. Then the ^people formed the Constitution, and by 
 it made of the Union a Nation. This was the view of 
 the North, which held that this [Jnion was indissoluble 
 and perpetual. The view of the South was the opposite. 
 It held that the Union was merely a league between sove- 
 reign States, each of which could resume its sovereignty 
 at its pleasure. The two views were irreconcilable, and 
 one or the other had to prevail the moment a single 
 State seceded. The slave-holders well understood this, 
 and that the Southern people would fight for State 
 rights, and thus they hoped to protect and perpetuate 
 slavery. 
 
240 A MOUNTAIN-WHITE HEROINE. 
 
 And the Southern people did fight for States Eights, 
 and not for the three hundred and eighty thousand slave- 
 holders who forced them into secession. Their leaders 
 were blind and wicked ; but the people themselves were 
 merely misled and mistaken, and hence there is no word 
 of blame for them — nothing but admiration for their 
 bravery in defeat, and their constancy in misfortune. We 
 should welcome them back with all fraternal feeling, proud 
 to have them again as brothers, and to be allowed to build 
 up with them, hand in hand, our great nation. 
 
 Destructive as the war was, the country, both South 
 and ISTorth, has gained by it immeasurably. It has re- 
 moved forever all possible cause for dissension and dis- 
 union ; it has won for us the admiration of the world, and 
 demonstrated that republican institutions have in them an 
 enduring strength and vitality ; and it has given the two 
 sections a mutual respect for each other, which, more than 
 any thing else, will cement them together in a Union 
 which shall be perpetual. In another hundred years the 
 English-speaking race will be the controlling element in 
 the world, and then it will be seen why in the Providence 
 of God, we have been preserved as one people, and built 
 up into a vast and united nation. These thoughts, to- 
 gether with the larger part of the details which are em- 
 bodied in the foregoing narrative, I had from the lady I 
 have herein styled Mrs. Hawkins. 
 
 THE END. 
 
i