(J SOUTHWESTERN PENNSYLVANIA SONG AND STORY. WITH NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. FRANK COWAN. AUTHOR OK "CURIOUS HISTORY OF INSECTS," "ZOMARA; A ROMANCE OF SPAIN," tc. WITH AN APPENDIX : THE BATTLE BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS OF SOUTHWESTERN P EN N S YLV A NT A . GREENSUURG, PA. PRINTED BY THE AUTHOR. M IMVCLXXVIIT. COPYRIGHT. FRANK COWAN, 1878. TO THE MEMORY OF ARTHUR ST. CLAIR : BY WHOSK LIFE, SOUTHWESTERN PENNSYLVANIA HAS BEET} ASSOCIATED WITH SCOTLAND, ENGLAND, AND FRANCE; THE SAVAGES OF AMERICA; THE FILIBUSTERS OF VIRGINIA ; THE FORMATION OF LOCAL, STATE, AND NATIONAL GOVERNMENTS: AND THE GREAT MEN OF AMERICA FOR HALF A CENTURY; AND BY WHOSE DEATH, SOUTHWESTERN PENNSYLVANIA WILL BE ASSOCIATED WITH THE INGRATITUDE OF REPUBLICS FOREVER, THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED BY THE AUTHOR. 973862 PREFACE. As a botanist might regard a herbal of wild- flowers from Southwestern Pennsylvania, or a lepidopterist a collection of butterflies and moths, seeing in the plants and insects an organic ex pression of their environment, the soil, the strata of rocks outcropping on the hillsides, the height of the mountains, the depth of the valleys, the rivers and marshes, the temperature of the cli mate, and its humidity ; so, it is trusted, the man of letters will see in this volume an ideal express ion of the same region through the medium of humanity an evolution of the soil and climate, the flora and fauna, the people and their history, into Song and Story. A glance at the Table of Contents will disclose in detail the scope and spirit of the book ; while an introductory para graph to each poem will indicate the roots by which it is attached to the soil, and through which it has attained its growth. CONTENTS. PREHISTORIC. The Last of The Mammoths 9 The Book of Mormon IT The Redman s Creed. 19 The Mountain Stairway 3O UNDER THE CROWN OF FRANCE, 1679 1758. The Lilly of Prance 33 Bold Christopher Gist 37 Queen Aliquippa 3O Port Duquesne 31 Liove or Liucre 34: The Grave of .Tumoirville 35 Port Necessity 36 Braddock s Pield 36 The Grave of Braddock 43 Diinliur the Tardy 4:3 The Myth of Braddock s Gold 44 A. Licgend of Port Duquesne 4:7 Kittanning 53 William Pitt 54 Christian Frederick Post 55 Lioyalhaniia 58 Port Machault 59 Guyasootha 60 UNDER THE CROWN OF GREAT BRITAIN, 1758 1770. The Piper Lad 63 The Bird of Bouquet 64 Meggie Stinson 66 The Irish Convict 67 "Westmoreland 73 The Whipping Post 73 Prom Post to Pillar 77 Fort Dunmore 78 O Wicked Dr. Connolly 79 Logan 81 The Ducking Stool 83 Elizabeth Smith 84 UNDER THE FLA G OF THE UNITED 8TA TES, 1776 1878. American Independence 86 The Scalp Premium. 87 Loe-hry s Lament 88 VI CONTENTS. Leather Breeches 9O The Ominous Fox 90 Tlie Mallet of Gnadeiihuetten 91 Simon Girty to Col. Ciawford at the Stake 93 Sarah Harrison 1OO Tlie Heroine of Haiinastowii 101 The Fate of Marmle 103 St. Clair 104 Tlie Haunted Man 110 A Tale of Tom the Tinker s Time 113 The Spectre Ship of Port Pitt 137 Prince Gnllitziii 137 Samuel Brady 138 George Kapp 139 Sam Measoii, the Robl>er 140 The Honry Old Hero of Hell 141 The Salt, Salt Sea 16O The Maid and the Mirage 164 The Headless Heart 17O King (oik and Jim Crow 193 An Epigram 19G The Spectre of the Biittonwood 197 Ilr. R. M. S. Jackson 201 Moll Dell 2O1 The Witch of Westmoreland 303 A Toast Jo Woman 305 The Story of Poor LittJe Sue 206 The Jester of Old King Coal 313 Stephen Collins Foster 235 Science and Poesy 226 The Slave of the Lamp 338 MISCELLAFEO US. Maid of Mahoiiing 331 Indecision 232 The Dare-Devil Yough 233 Monongahela 334 The Jewels I Prize 335 Love s Holy Grace 336 Oh, I Would Love You Alway 337 The Heart Entomhed 337 Loving and Longing 338 The Eye and the Imagination 338 An Epigram 338 The Demon Lover 339 Graveyard Grotesques 34O The Poet 341 A Letter to a Lady 343 To You, Man 344 CONTENTS. Vll To 244 Literary Hermit Crabs 245 Astronomical 24:5 A Pourtli of July Alternative 24:5 Tlie Last Kiss of Love 246 To 346 On a Ringing Bell 34:6 Love s Rule of Three 347 Fate a-fT To a Silk- Worm 34:8 Her Character . 34:8 Katy-Did 24:8 Despair 34:8 Rhymes and Jingles 348 Once, and Once Only 349 The Voice of the Anvil 250 EVOLUTION, The Legend of the Weeping-Willow 350 The Love-lorn Lady s Lament 355 The Rebnke of the Sage 356 The Two Towers 256 A Centennial Counterblast 369 Chautauqua: A Song of Symbolism 373 Niagara 384 The Fiddler of Time 285 The Last Man 291 Index 397 APPENDIX. ERRATA: Page 168, line 23, for "spirit had sped," read "spirit that sped." Page 204, line 13, for " kitten," read " kit." Page 236, line 17, for " pure as the wave," read " pure be the wave." Page 241, line 27, for " lo," read " to." Page 286, line 10, for "from left to right/ read "to left from right." Credit either George Farquhar or George Barrington with the Tenth line of " The Irish Convict," on page 68 ; Alexander Pope with the idea involved in the epigram on " Westmoreland " on page 72; and Lord Littleton with the formula of the second epigram on "Inde cision " on page 232. SO UTH WESTERN PENNSTL VAN1A IN SONG AND STORY. THE LAST OF TR~E The personages of the prst , ye lor^rig to t toric age of Southwestern Pennsylvania, are the Mam moth-hunter and the Mound-builder. Of the existence of the former in the Little World, nothing is known ; and of the latter only that which has been inferred from his works found here as elsewhere in the valley of the Mississippi of whom more anon. However, it is known to a certainty, that before the extinction of the Mammoth and the Mastodon, a savage man inhabited this valley and destroyed these monstrous animals in a mannef similar to that described in the following stan zas; and it may be assumed that the last of these great elephants was killed here as elsewhere, since their re mains have been discovered in this locality the tooth of a Mammoth, found in 1875, off the Point in the City of Pittsburgh, (where the Allegheny and Monongahela rivers unite to form the Ohio or, as the word signi fies, the Bloody, or the River of Blood,) and now in the possession of the writer, suggesting the theme of the following poem. For further information, necessary, possibly, to an understanding of the letter of the poem, the reader, pre sumed to be a stranger in a strange land, is referred to the notes appended. Beneath the weight of the new-fallen snow, The boughs of the fir tree bent, A savory feast * to the monstrous beast, That through the forest went. That through the forest went alone, The last of his mighty make, A moving mound on the frozen ground That made the forest quake. "10 THE LAST OF THE MAMMOTHS. His legs were as thick as the bole of the beech 7 His tusks as the buttonwood white, While his lithe trunk wound like a sapling around An oak in the whirlwind s might. His flapping ears fanned the snow into drifts Upon his wool-clad back,f .fill a swaying branch an avalanche Swept into bis pit-like track. Swept into the pit-like track that marked , i His course through the wild, wild wood That folded and spread over each water-shed In the forks of the River of Blood. Swept into the track that marked his course Along the rugged ridge. Where, striding the brook in its natal nook, He avoided the river s ice-bridge. He avoided the river s treacherous bridge, With a cunning care and great ; J For well, I wis, he knew the ice Would break beneath his weight. His weight that made the forest quake, As he strode on the frozen ground, Forsooth to browse on the savory boughs That in the forest abound. When hark ! the Mammoth held a bough, And turned a listening ear, To the distant shout of the rabble and rout That gathered in his rear. Was it the caw of the carrion crow, The grunt of the hungry bear, The hoot of the owl, or the hideous howl Of the wolf on the heels of the deer ? The Mammoth turned in his tracks in the snow, And looked toward the east, When behold ! a Man stood in the wild, wild wood, Before the monstrous beast ! THE LAST OF THE MAMMOTHS. 11 A Man G-od wot, but a molehill in bulk Beside the mountain mass Of flesh and blood, that swaying stood Opposing him face to face ! Antipodal types, yea, stand and stare ! In your opposite forms expressed The First and the Last of the Future and Past, The East succeeding the West ! Yea, stand and stare, ye antagonists In your bodies from your birth, Till, race against race, ye have met face to face. To win and to lose the Earth ! Thou, Mountain of Brawn, with thy level back, Thou, Whirlwind of muscular might, Thou, Earth involved as it has revolved In space to left from right ! And thou, Molehill of Brain, with tky vertical spine, Thou. Zephyr in muscle ingrown, Thou, Earth deftly poled as around it has rolled On an axis up and down ! Yea, stand and stare, for never before On the battle-ground of the earth, Two greater foes stood to maintain with their blood Their opposing rights in their birth ! Thou, Mammoth, prepare for the conflict at once : Set before thee thy terrible teeth, And upou the Man rush, and beneath thy weight crush The contemptible pigmy to death ! And thou, Man, prepare with thy cunning and care : Take into thy earth-freed hand || The weapons which Thought for thy wants ha3 wrought, The spear and the burning brand ! When behold ! the spear and the brand multiplied, Till the wild, wild wood was aglow With the glancing gleams and the bounding beams Upon the new-fallen snow ! 12 THE LAST OF THE MAMMOTHS. Now, hark ! to the shout of the rabble and rout, That gathered in the east, And the track pursued thro the wild, wild wood, Of the strange and monstrous beast ! And hark ! to the roar of the last of his race. That hushed in derision the shout. As the moving mound on the quaking ground Divided the rabble and rout ! Divided the rabble and rout right and left, With an irresistible rush, Until he came to a wall of flame On a feeble foundation of brush ! When, before the apparition of Thought, Surmounting the burning boughs, He stood : For the moment of Life had come To Think above the To Browse ! He stood and though but a moment he stood Confronted by Destiny, Yet the fire burned the wool from the brow of hi9 skull, And a spear-point went into his eye. When he turned and fled from the east to the west, In the snow thro the wild, wild wood That folded and spread over each water-shed In the forks of the River of Blood ! While, upon his flanks, the divided throng Closed fast with a phrenzied zest, And madly pursued the beast through the wood In his course from the east to the west Hurling here a spear and there zl brand Against the monster s side, Till his track thro the wood to the River of Blood, With his trickling blood was dyed. On on on on The Mammoth moved without rest. Striding over the brook in its natal nook That notched the wooded crest. THE LAST OF THE MAMMOTHS. 13 On on on on The Mammoth kept his course, Pursued behind by the Man of Mind, Like Matter driven by Force. On on on on Until he trembling stood On the crunching edge of the treacherous bridge That spans the River of Blood. Before him ice ! behind him fire ! Behold the bleeding beast, Like the winter s sun that in red has run Its course from the burning east ! When Was it the gleam of the setting sun That flashed across the sky Or the quivering point of the barb of flint In the monster s bleeding eye ? The Mammoth turned from the bridge of ice, And faced the wall of fire, When, roaring with pain he rushed again Like a thunderbolt of ire Like a thunderbolt of ire that knew Existence but as aim When, behold ! the beast is striding east Through a breach in the wall of flame ! And a writhing form is impaled on his tusk, And another is in the air, While a third is beneath his feet in death, Beside a broken spear ! But what are the lives of a score in the throng Of the new-born conquering brood, That rose in the east to drive the beast Into the River of Blood ? With redoubled zest, they ran from the west, And rekindled the terrible brand, When, again face to face, race opposing race, See Man and Mammoth stand ! 14 THE LAST OF THE MAMMOTHS. When again the spear is hurled at an eye With an unerring aim ; And the roaring rush is checked by brush That leaps again into flame. A blackened, bristling, bleeding mass, Within a blazing wood, The Mammoth turned ; while the spear-shafts burned To their barbs in his flesh and blood. The Mammoth turned and fled before The fire that came behind, As ever since Man and the world began, The Seeing pursues the Blind. Till again, at the edge of the treacherous bridge. The Mammoth in darkness stood, While the lurid light of the brand in the night Illumined the River of Blood ! For a moment stood to sensation dead; When, behold ! he silently strode In his night of despair, like a cloud in the air, On the ice of the Iliver of Blood ! And the ice was as firm beneath his feet As the ground on the frozen shore Will he pass out of sight in the darkness of night. And be seen upon earth nevermore ? Ah, no ! The Mammoth s pursuer is Man, That knows no end but death But to feed his force with his foeman s corse, And to breathe his dying breath. Upon the ice, the rabble and rout Surrounded the bleeding beast With a wall of fire that rose higher and higher As the fuel was increased Until the Mammoth, concealed in the flame That girdled the spot where he stood, With a deafening crash and a fire-quenching splash, Sank into the River of Blood ! THE LAST OF THE MAMMOTHS. 15 Sank into the River of Blood of Death ! That, receiving the monstrous corse, Upheaved and rocked thrice the bridge of ice With an earthquake s mighty force ! Sank into the River of Blood of Time ! Aye, that was the crack of doom, That crashing roar from shore to shore, Above the Mammoth s tomb ! Aye, that crashing roar was the crack of doom, The awful and the dread, That summoned the Last of the forms of the Past To the darkness of the Dead Leaving naught behind to the Man of Mind Remaining in the wood That folded and spread over each water-shed In the forks of the River of Blood But a vague and uncertain reflection a myth Of a silent cloud that passed Away in the night while begirt with a light That concealed while revealing the Last. But a vague and uncertain reflection a myth A summer evening s dream, When the clouds of the sky assume shapes to the eye, And realities are not but seem, ^f But a vague and uncertain reflection a myth To the mind of the wondering youth, When the dredge brings up, in its deep-dipping cup, A strange and monstrous tooth A Mammoth s tooth, off the Pittsburgh Point, In the eddying, swirling flood, Where the two waters meet and embracing greet, As one in the River of Blood Like Man, the river that rolls from the North, From a head with an icy mouth ; ** Like Woman, the flood with the warmth of her blood, That comes from a heart in the South ft 16 THE LAST OF THE MAMMOTHS. Where the two rivers meet, and like man and wife greet, In the flood from the East to the West, That flows on forever to the Gulf of the Giver, And the Sea of Eternal Rest. While in their bed are laid the dead, Of the first and of the last, Who have swelled the flood of the River of Blood, In the Mammoth of the Past ! * The branches of the fir, and other resinous trees, have been found well preserved in the stomach of the Mastodon. f The covering of the Mammoth was a compound of wool and hair, long and thick, sufficient to protect it against the rigors of even an arctic winter. I The "rugged ridge," along which the Mammoth is said to have kept his course from the east to the west, is the route which, in 1758, was taken by General Forbes, and in 1763, by Colonel Bouquet the "cunning care and great," ascribed to the monstrous beast, being that which the latter asserted and maintained in opposition to the judgment of Washington, who advocated the southern or Monongahela route, which, in 1755, General Braddock had pursued to the River of Blood in appalling reality. || In the struggle for existence, the advantage to Man in his earth-freed hand cannot be over-estimated. The brand or fire in its myriad forms is the most for midable weapon Man has ever wielded. g Erroneously, the arrow-points exhumed in Amer ica are said to be of flint a mineral not found in this country. They are of quartz, in its several forms of chert and jasper and chalcedony. 1f The myth of the Redman, with respect to the Mam moth the Big Buffalo, of his language is given as follows by Thomas Jefferson, in his Notes on Virginia: "A delegation of warriors from the Deleware tribe visited the government of Virginia, during the Revolu tion, on matters of business; after this had been dis cussed, and settled in council, the governor asked some questions relative to their country, and among others, what they knew or had heard of the animal whose bones were found at the licks on the Ohio. "Theirchief speaker immediately put himself intoan attitude of oratory, and with a pomp suited to what he THE BOOK OP MORMON. 17 conceived the elevation of his subject, informed him that it was a tradition handed down from their fathers, that in ancient times a herd of these tremendous ani mals came to the Big-bone lick, and began an universal destruction of the bear, deer, elk, buffaloes, and other animals which had been created for the use of the In dians. And that the Great Man above, looking down and seeing this, was so enraged, that he seized his lightning, descended to the earth, seated himself on a neighboring mountain, on a certain rock, where the print of his feet are still remaining, from whence he hurled his bolts among them, till the whole herd were slaughtered, except the big bull ; who, presenting his forehead to the shafts shook them off as they fell; but at length one of them missing his head glanced on his side, wounding him sufficiently to make him mad ; whereon, springing round, he bounded over the Ohio at a leap, then over the Wabash at another, the Illinois at a third, and at a fourth leap over the great lakes, where he is living at this day." ** The Allegheny an Indian name, the significa tion of which is an enigma. In the opinion of many, it means the Endless River. McCullough, in his Narra tive, says, "it signifies an impression made by the foot of a human being, for said they, [the Indians among whom he was a captive.] the land is so rich about it that a person cannot travel through the lands adjoining it without leaving the mark of his feet." ft The Monongahela the River with the Falling- in-Banks "Old Muddy Banks," in the parlance of the people of to-day. THE BOOK OF MORMON. The works of the Mound-builders in Southwestern Pennsylvania are unimportant in comparison with those in the more central portions of the valley of the Mississippi. They consist, principally, of look-out mounds commanding river views, as if to guard against surprises by a savage foe that descended the streams in fleets of canoes. However, there is a peculiar interest attached to the works of these mysterious people in the Little World, from the fact that the Reverend Solomon Spaulding, the reputed author of the Book of Mormon the Bible of the Mormons, resided here during the greater part of the time that he was engaged in its com position a work of fiction that grew out of his study 18 THE BOOK OF MORMON".. of the mounds and other earth-works in Northeastern Ohio and Southwestern Pennsylvania. The residence of Mr. Spaulding was in the village of Amity, Washing ton county; and for an account of his life and labor an<< the falling of his MS. into the hands of Sidney Rigdon, a printer, in Pittsburgh, see Dr. Creigh s History of Wash ington county, pp. 89-93. U is the marvel of the age 1 Here lay The works of thousands long since dead and buried, The Mound-builders yclept, in glaring text Stupendous, that ho that ran might read, And read aright, more readily than wrong. * But O thou mockery of wisdom s self! This second Solomon, Jew -spectacled, From ponring over ancient Hebrew tomes, Perceived naught but with perverted vision, And saw in these same savages, presto 1 The long lost tribe of Israel ! and wrote His chronicles accordingly in error ! But what of that, compared to what hath followed Behold ! a second Joseph* into being came, A dreamer and interpreter of dreams ; And, in this fiction of the clergyman, He read the word of Grod proclaiming him His vicar henceforth unto all mankind. And lo ! before the boy has shorn his beard, That was but mullein down when Joseph came, A nation in the wilderness has risen That, with the sight vouchsafed with zeal to sinners, Reads in this book, yclept the Book of Mormon, That which delights them most r Hell and Heaven ! For, if this story teaches aught, tis this : Man reads not what s without, but what s \\ithin, Not what s before, but what s behind his eyeball, Writ in the red ink of his blood and being ! * Joseph Smith, the founder of the Mormon Church, or Church of Latter Day Saints, born at Sharon, Ver mont, 23rd Dec., 1805, and killed at Carthage, Illinois, 27th June, 1844. THE REDMAN S CREED. THE REDMAN S CREED. The successor in Southwestern Pennsylvania to the Mammoth-rmnter and Mound-builder was the Redman, or Indian, in occupation, on the entrance or intrusion or" the Whiteman, or Pale- lace, from Europe, with his recording pen, marking tire beginning of the Historic Period of the Little World. Of this Redman, alone, or wnassoclated with the White, of whom libraries have been written in prose and poetry, I shall give only two poems in this book, in order to present to the Reader the opposite Gods of the Redman with which the stu dent is confronted in every volume which treats of the religious beliefs of the savages of America the con crete and the abstract, the material and the spiritual. The first is based upon the remarks or two of the most ex traordinary savages, of whom there is any record, Te- cumseh and Black Hawk ; the second is purely ficti tious, illustrating at the same time the idea of the Manlto, or Great Spirit, of the Redman, and the peculiar topography of the mountain Ridges of Southwestern Pennsylvania. The suits my father, and the earth, my mother ! Thus spake Tecumseh.* in his savage pride, But with a sense and comprehension, wide As wisdom yet. within the brain of man, Has compassed in his being an external plan A sense and comprehension growth -in wrought Into the substance of his life and thought, Until he lived, in brawn and brain, as one. In fortitude, the Earth, in fire, the Sun ! I am a man, and you are but another . Thus spake the chieftain Black Hawk,f weakwith age. And worn with long confinement in a cage. Unto his captor and his keeper him Whom millions bowed before as great and grim. The Hero of New Orleans, in the tent, While in the nation s ball, the President ! He was a man, and Jackson but another ; He was a man. and Jackson but his brother: Though he, an aged man, in chains was led, While Jackson stood in a great nation s stead ! 20 THE MOUNTAIN STAIRWAY. The suns my father, and the earth my mother ! I am a man, and you are but another ! Such was the Redman s concrete creed and code, That made him Great, without an abstract God ! * At an interview with Governor William Harrison, at Vincennes, 27 July, 1811. t In the White House, at Washington, 22 April, 1833, after his imprisonment in Fortress Monroe. THE MOUNTAIN STAIRWAY. Crossing the several ridges of the Alleghanies, from the east to the west, on the turnpike leading from Phil adelphia to Pittsburgh, the succession is as follows be yond the great anticlinal, the Alleghany Mountain proper: Laurel Hill, Chestnut Ridge, Dry, or Randolph, Ridge, and Grapeville Ridge. Looking eastward from the residence of the writer, on a spur of the Grapeville Ridge, the crest lines of these mountains are seen rising above one another great steps in fact, up and down which it is easy to pass in fancy. Like great rough and shaggy hemlocks, Of decreasing size and thickness, Lying side by side half buried In the leaf-mould of the ages Where the tempest laid them prostrate, Are the mighty mountain ridges Of the Alleghanies, looking Westward to the verdant valley Of the beautiful Ohio Of the Redman s stream, The Bloody. Like great steps by which the mighty Manito* descended from the Mountain to his children in the Valley of the Bloody River ; f Where the arrow tipped with jasper Reddened in a brother s heart-blood, And the spear of chalcedony Quivered in a sister s bosom, THE MOUNTAIN STAIRWAY. 21 And the tomahawk or feld spar Cleft the skulls of sons and daughters, Till the noble race of Redruen Lived within the womb of woman Hid in terror in the marshes Lived alone within the womb of Woman hid within the marshes, Trembling with the shaking rushes, Shivering in the chilly nightwind, Feeding upon snakes and berries : When the Manito the Father Of the noble race of Redmen Taking by the hand the mother Hid in terror in the marshes. Led her to a place of safety Up the mountain steps ascended Of the rough and shaggy hemlocks. To his home upon the summit Of the lofty Alleghanies : There to bear her children gladly, Breathing life with the Great Spirit. In the fragrance of the pine-tree ; There to rear her children bravely, Wrestling with the mighty whirlwind, Shooting arrows with the lightning, Shouting war-whoops with the thunder, Giving joy unto the mighty Manito upon the mountain, Till he laughed above the thunder, Like a father with his children ; There to speed her children westward, Grown to be brave sons and daughters. Down the streamlets in their birch-barks, To the river, the Ohio To the Redman s stream, The Bloody : Where the battle raged incessant In the struggle for existence ; Where the heart s blood flowed like water, Where the water flowed like heart s blood ; Where the noble race of Redmen Lived alone for blood and slaughter. 22 THE MOUNTAIN STAIRWAY Till again they neared destruction. And the mother hid in terror, In the secret fens and marshes, And the Manito, descending By the rough and rugged stairway, Of the ridges laid like hemlocks. Took her to a place of safety In his home upon the mountain Where the noble race of Reduieu Live alone for blood and slaughter, Till again they near destruction, And the mother hides in terror In the secret fens and marshes. When, behold ! a pale faced brother Comes instead of the Great Spirit, Down the great steps of the ridges To the valley of The Bloody - Reaching far into the marshes, Slaying there the teeming mothers With the unborn generations Of the noble race of Redmen Leaving in eternal silence, The Great Spirit of the Mountain, Father of the race of Redmen, Mourning for his murdered children, W^bile the lightning darts unheeded. And the thunder shouts unanswered, Brooding in e ernal silence. Like a father for his children. * This word is preserved in the name of the Cone- maugh, below the confluence of the Loyalhanna, Kiski- minetas the name of an old town, at or near the site of Saltsburg, thus spelled and translated by McCul- lough, the Indian captive, " Kee-ak-kshee-man-nit-toos, / which signifies Cut Spirit: " which, in turn, signifies, as I understand it, the spirit severed from the body. f I take it the Ohio was called so because, in the. struggle for existence, it was the scene of the most nota ble conflicts between the rival races of savages who nav igated it in their bark canoes, thereby becoming asso ciated with the flowing of blood and thence, seeing the without from within, the River of Blood. THE LILY OF FRANCE. 23 1749 THE LILY OF FRANCE. The next people, after the Mammoth-hunters, the Mound-builders, and the Redmen or Indians, who as serted and maintained the domination of Southwestern Pennsylvania, was the French, which they did, from the discovery of the Mississippi in 1679 to the end of the Seven Years War in 1763, under the name of Louisiana,in honor of Louis XIV., the Grand Monarch, in whose reign the valley of the Mississippi was entered and appropri ated and under the name, in general, of New France . "Not a fountain bubbled on the west of the Alleghanies, but was claimed as being within the French empire. Louisiana stretched to the head-springs of the Alle gheny and the Monongahela, of the Kenawha and the Tennessee." BANCROFT. Curiously, too, the first overt act of war, between Great Britain and France, in the Seven Years War a conflict in which the four quarters of the Big World were embroiled occurred in the Little : at the Point, where the City of Pittsburgh stands now, when the British ensign, Ward, surrendered to the French commander, Contrecoeur, }n 1751. This war terminated in America most disastrously to France, leaving her dispossessed of the vast territory which she held at the beginning the valleys of the St. Lawrence, the Great Lakes, and the Mississippi. And it is in the light of this possession and dispossession at the instant the new empire seemed to be most secure, that the fol lowing poem is to be read. Aye, who but Jeanot, in the drifting batteau,* Blushes scarlet and looks askance, When Duprey fills his glass and bids the toast pass - " To the King and the Lily of France ! " For why, Grod wot, in a twin brother s clothes, Deceiving her lover s fond eyes, Sits Jeanette as Jeanot, in the drifting batteau, The Lily of France in disguise ! For a thousand leagues and many more, Across the salt, salt sea, She has fled the ire of a thwarted sire, With her own true lover to be ! 24 THE LILY OF FRANCE, With her own true lover to be, to be, Come weal or woe unto death, To live beneath his look, and to breathe His being in her breath I With her own true lover to be, to be, In the quivering, heated air, O er the yawning abyss of eternal bliss, Suspended by a hair 1 With her own true lover to be, to be, Fulfilling the precious part, Involved in the birth of woman on earth, The halidom of the heart ! Her father and mother forgotten all The joys to mortals given, To live, alone with her lover, unknown, Like a star by day in heaven ! Aye, who but Jeanot, in the drifting batteau, Blushes scarlet and looks askance, When Duprey fills his glass and bids the toast pass. "To the King and the Lily of France ! ; *0h, wert thou thy sister, thou flaxen-haired boy," Duprey, in an ecstasy sighs, This world would I give one moment to live In the love-light of thine eyes ! " And scarcely the word is spoken and heard, When, winging its flight o er the flood, A jasper-tipped dart soes into her heart From a savage foe in the wood. W r ith a hasty hand the dart is withdrawn, When, revealed in her bosom s charms, Ah, what doth the lover in anguish discover But the Lily of France in his arms ! Bliss upon Earth, ever in the grasp Of pursuing Ignorance, Until Wisdom at last dutches firmly and fast A corpse in the Lily of France ! THE LILY OF FRANCE. 25 The boat is shored ; the mournful crew Dig deep in the oozing sand ; The rising wave conceals the grave From living eye and hand. And the boat is launched, and adown the stream The merry Frenchmen go Jeanette, a jest of the mottled past, Duprey none cares to know ! And now and anon, in the unknown world, As they drifting blindly advance, They themselves possess of the wilderness, In the name of the Lily of France. Till, having seized all, a victorious crew, They ascend the stream to its source, When, looking back upon their track, They see but an arrow-pierced corse ! The arrow-pierced corse of the Lily of France, In the grave by the rippling flood Of the Beautiful River, that flows on forever, The Ohio the River of Blood ! The while Duprey, left in the lurch, Pursues a lily-white fawn,f That turns in the wood, and, with eyes of blood. Still beckons hhn on and on Till fainting, and falling in the wood, But strength enough remains To trace upon a yielding stone The end of wordly gains And in a mass of plastic clay, The tablet to enclose, That, in a hole in the earth, the scroll For ages may repose. J That, when to dust he shall have gone, The child may read, in fear, Of the beckoning ghost, of the loved and the lost In the bloody-eyed, lily-white deer ! THE LILY. OF FRANCE, While the bearded sage, with ihe wisdom of iiiie, May see in the scroll, perchance, The French possessed of the World of the West In the grave of the Lilv of France 111 * The batteau was a flat- bottomed boat propelled by (Kirs, or allowed to drill with the stream, guided by si dipping rudder in the stern, and adapted for the trans portation of cannon, stores, and troops. f A tradition is preserved among the descendants ol the first settlers of the valley of the Allegheny, in the neighborhood of Kittanning. that the first white woman who was slain by the Indians became a white deer that haunted the wood in which she was killed for many, many years until the wood fell before the ax of civil ization, when the shadow departed, us the sunshine entered. | A few \ ears ago, in the town of Alliance, Ohio, by some persons making an excavation for the cellar of u house, there was discovered a ball of clay, about the size of a man s head, in the centre of which was a slate stone, on which, in letters evidently scratched in with the point of a knife, was this sorrowful record: "Lost in the woods Starving to death C. I. Hare 1776." The ingenuity involved in the preservation of this frail record is must remarkable. Compare it with the fol lowing. In order to perfect their possession of the great val- ley o: the Mississippi, the French, in 1740, sent out an expedition, commanded by Louis Celeron, to deposit metal plates, reciting in French their possession, at the mouths of the principal tributaries of the streams which they descended, the Allegheny and the Ohio. The plato, found at Venango in the grave of the Lily f>f France, in melancholy reality bears the following inscription : LAI*. 1749. DV REGNE 1>E LUVIS XV ROY DE FitANOE NOVS CELERON COMMANDANT DVN DETACHMENT ENVOIE PAR MONSIEUR LE M lS DE LA GALLISSONIERE COMMANDANT GENER AL DE LA NOUVELLE FRANCE POVR RE TABLIR LA TRANQUILLITE DANS Q.VELQVES VILLAGES S AUVAGES DE CES CANTONS AVONS ENTERRE CE PLAQFVE AU CONFLVENT DEL OHYO ETDE TOR- ADAKOJN CE 29 JUILLET PRES DE LA RIVIERE OYO AUTREMENT BELLE RIVIERE POUR MONU MENT DE RE RKNOUVELLEMENTDE POSSESSION BOLD CHRISTOPHER GIST. NOVS AVOXS FRIS DF LA DTTTE RIVIERE OYOKT DE TOVTES CELLES QITI Y TOM BENT ET DE TOVTES LES TERRES DES DEUX COTES JUS- QUE AVX SOVRCES DKS DITTES RIVIERES AINSI QVE N ONT JOV Y OV DV JOVIR LAES PRECEDENTS ROIS DE FRANCE ET QUILS SY SONT MAINTE- NUS PAR LES ARMES ET PAR LES TRAITES vSPECIALMENT PAR CEVS DE RISWIOK D VTRECHT ET D AIX-LA-CHAPELLE, BOLD CHRISTOPHER GIST. With the advent of Captain Christopher Gist, as the yuide of Major George Washington, on his mission from Governor Dinwiddie, of Virginia, to Legardeur de St. Pierre, the commandant of the French fort at Veuango, fort Machault, the strife between the English and the French for the possession of the Little World of South western Pennsylvania may be said to have begun. This was in the year 1753. Before this time, however, Gist, and many English traders had been in this country, but it fell to the lot of George Washington to be the first per son to carry the authority of a government about him a distinction thgt marks the first step in the public career of this extraordinary man. And here, in pass ing, it may be said, that, although Washington was not horn in Southwestern Pennsylvania, yet the country is indebted as much to this region for his greatness and distinction, as to the State of his birth, for it was here that he was instructed in the art of war, in association with the greatest generals on the continent at the time, Braddock, Forbes, and Bouquet, in the several expedi tions or campaigns which bear their names respectively. Gist was a native of England. His cabin, built on the tract of land in Fayette county, known as Mount Brad- dock, was the first house built by an Englishman west of the Alleghany Mountains on laud held by vir tue of English warrant and authority. "No path hath the forest, Except the wide swath Of the scythe of the storm. Keenly whet in its wrath ; And the track of the wild-fire. 28 BOLD CHRISTOPHER GIST. That roars through the heath, Leaving all in its wake Black and ghastly in death " "Aye, truly; but yet, While the heavens exist, I ll go where I list, ; Says bold Christopher G-ist ! "The heavens are hid By the o er-reaching rack, And the sun and the stars Are unseen in the black : While the lightning may lead To the dread precipice, And leave blindness to leap Into aye in th abyss" "Aye, truly; yet ne er Will the heavens be missed, While the vines* westward twist/ Says bold Christopher Grist ! "The mountains are many, And rugged and steep ; The rivers are rapid. Deceitful, and deep ; The thickets are thorny, Entangled and tough ; The rocks are relentless So ragged and rough" " Aye, truly, they are ; But they never resist The heart in my chest," Says bold Christopher Grist ! "The panther and lynx Lurk in ambush above ; The bear and the wolf In the underbrush rove The copperheadf coils In the warm, sunny spot. While the oak-ivyj poisons The cool, shady grot" BOLD CHRISTOPHER GIST. "Aye. truly, they do; But I dread save me Christ ! x Alone Had I wist ! " Says bold Christopher Gist ! "The eye of the savage Can see that leaves shake; The ear of the savage Can hear that twigs break ; His hand and his hatchet Are never apart To gorge in a foe s blood The greed of his heart " * Aye, truly ; but match him, I will or be missed ! So, give me your fist ! " Says bold Christopher Gist ! The hard hand is taken The last word is said ; The continent trembles Beneath their firm tread ; For with them the armies Of England and France To the River of Blood The Ohio advance, To meet And what followed Has followed. I wist. George Washington s tryst With bold Christopher Gist ! * The direction of the windings of twining plants is, in general, with the sun, from right to left. From the growth of the lichens on the northwestern sides of the trees, the points of the compass may be determined also by the backwoodsman. t The copperhead, Ancistrodon contortrix, is as vene- mous as the more celebrated serpent of this region, the rattle snake, Crotahis horridits ; and, in general, it is re garded as more dangerous from the fact that it gives no warning before it strikes. J This plant, RJms toxicodendron, v. radicans, with several allied species, quite common in Southwestern CO QUEEN ALIQUIPPA. Pennsylvania, are poisonous not only to the taste and touch, but they even taint the air to some distance around with a baneful effluvium. Q UEEX ALIQ U1PPA . In the Journal of George Washington, kept while on his mission from the Governor of Virginia to the Com mandant of the French fort at Venango, in 1753, the fol lowing entry occurs : " As we intended to take horses here, and it required some time to find them, I went up about three miles to the mouth of the Youghiogheny [the site of McKees- port at present,] to visit Queen Aliquippa. who had ex pressed great concern that we passed her in going to the fort. I made her a present of a watch-coat and a bottle of rum, which latter was thought much the better present of the two." Curiously, too, in giving this bottle of rum to an In dian, the future Father of his Country violated most flagrantly two several laws of the Province of Pennsyl vania, which declared it a grave offence to sell or give liquor of any kind to the Indians particu larly on the border, and by the inconsiderate strag glers from Virginia! There s witchery in every word That s spokeu once and thrice is heard : Within the ear, an empty sound ; Within the brain, a thought profound ; Within the heart, a throe or thrill Responsive to its woe or weal. For from the heart, the growth-floods go Back to the brain and ear, till lo ! The brain thinks and the ear and eye Perceive naught but in plantasy. Hear thrice the name to mortal given, And make of earth a hell or heaven ! Queen Aliquippa, once, twice, thrice ! And lo ! the world is steeped iu vice. Until the senses sluggish swim FORT DUQUESNE. 31 In a delirious drunken dream, And woman welcomes all that come With vice s coin a flask of Rum ! 1754- FORT DUQUESNE. The surrender of Ensign Ward to the French com mandant, Contrecoeur, on the 17th of April, 1754 re ferred to in the introduction to the Lily of France, as the first overt act in the Seven Years War was fol lowed immediately by the construction of a fort, in the forks of the Ohio, which was called Fort Duquesne, after the Governor of Canada, the Marquis Du Quesne de Meuneville. This celebrated fort formed a link in the chain by which the French united their vast possessions in America the territory drained by the St. Lawrence and the Mississippi. In 1858, in the fifth year after its construction, it was blown up to prevent its fall ing into the hands of the British army, under the command of the Head of Iron, General John Forbes. The site of the fort is within the limits of the City of Pittsburgh of to-day. There is a secret rea.son assigned for the construc tion of Fort Duquesne which may be repeated here, if, for no other reason, than to make human and quick with life the dead and buried past of a century and a quarter ago, to wit : " The private scandal of the place and period attrib uted the building of these establishments [the forts on i Me Allegheny and at the forks of the Ohio,] and their dark train of consequent calamities to the same cause a.s had since long before the day of Helen of Troy, ac cording to Flaccus, brought about the waste of human life and the overthrow of mighty empires. M. Pouchot, an officer of rank in Canada, does not scruple to insinu ate that the new governor, [M. de Duquesne,] shortly af ter his arrival in Quebec, became involved in an in trigue with a beautiful woman, the wife of a resident of that place. M. Bigot, who had recently passed from the Intendancy of Louisbourg to that of Canada, had in like manner contracted a liaison with a Madame P6an, the wife of the aide-major of the city. Bigot being thus at *he head of the commissary department of the colony, it was an easy affair for the Governor and himself to ar range a plan Dy which the willing husbands of the 32 FORT DUQUESNE. ladies in question should be detached from an incon venient vicinity to their partners. Accordingly, it was decided to give them lucrative employments in an ex pedition which, it was gravely whispered, was concoct ed for the express purpose of placing these gentlemen at a considerable distance from home ; and to Pean wa.s assigned the command of the forces which were marched in l~y>. The forts then built were furnished with nu merous and expensive magazines of merchandise and provisions; a precaution necessary enough under the circumstances of their position, but which, in the man ner in which the business was managed, must have af forded endless opportunities for the acquirement of ill- gotten gains. Together with the proper provisions and stores, all sorts of goods, always expensive, but here ut terly useless, were purchased in the name of Louis XV., and sent, for his service, into the wilderness. Stuffs of silk and velvet, ladies" slippers and damask shoes, silk stockings, and the costly wines of Spain, figure largely in the category, and enable us to conceive how it came about that the French colonies cost the nation so much and returned it so little. * * * It may be true enough that the husband of each fair Evadne was named to a high command in the new expedition, but nothing can be more absurd than to imagine that to procure theirab- *ence was the primary motive to its undertaking." Sargent, citing J/. Pouchot. In the light of which, the following may not prove unacceptable. Come hither, come hither, my little foot-page, And rede this riddle to me, And what I have that thou mayest crave, That will I give to thee. "I love the wife of a merchantman, And dearly she loves me ; But in vain we yearn till our vitals burn. All for his jealousie. Oh, never a word the foot-page heard, A word but barely three, But he turned him around upon the ground, And a loud, loud laugh laughed he. FORT DUQUESNE. 33 " My lord," quo he; "let us build a fort Afar in the wild couutrie, For the glory of France, and the husband advance, Our sutler there to be. And what thou hast to be possessed By thy little foot-page in fee To the lock that turned when you sometime burned, I crave the rusty key ! " With a Vive le Hoy ! and a Vive la France ! That echoed from sea to sea, A fort in the wood, on the River of Blood, Was built right speedilie ! The while, my lord and the sutler s wife Were as happy as happy could be, Their midnights of bliss being turned in a kiss While the foot-page brightened the key. But the hottest love will cool apace With its satietie ; With state cares oppressed, my lord could not rest And rusty again grew the key. Come hither, come hither, my little foot-page, And rede this riddle to me, And what I may that thou canst say, That will I do for thee. I loathe the wife of the merchantman, And I doubt not she loathes me ; But the devil take her, as ever to make her He was devil enough to be ! " Oh, never a word the foot-page heard, A word but barely three, But he turned him around upon the ground, And a loud, loud laugh laughed he. ; My lord, quo he ; Met us blow up the fort Afar in the wild countrie ; Recall the French ; our expenses retrench ; And chaste and happy be ! 34 LOVE OR LUCRE. And what thou mayest that I can say, That wilt thou do for me I pray thee, my lord, be as good as thy word, And take back this rusty key 1" The magazine of Fort Duquesoe Was fired speedilie , My lord Duquesne was himself again, And bright greiv the Hale steel key. 1751 LOVE OR LUCRE, Another reason has been assigned, by the grave hjs- forian, for the construction of Fort Duquesne and the breaking out at the head of the Ohio of the conflict be tween England and France which extended into the world-wide Seven Years War, namely, the fur-trade of the Ohio, which, at the time it was lost to the British by the surrender of Washington, at Fort Necessity, 3rd July, 17oi, was valued at no less than t"lu,iX)0 a year; and it was then in its infancy. The privation of such aprofit, Sargent remarks, not less than the manner in which it was lost, wa^ calculated eminently to excite indigna tion ; and ample details of the whole, forwarded to Lon don, by Governor Dinwiddie and others, brought about the inception of those vigorous measures which resulted In the expedition of Braddock and its train of disas trous consequences to all engaged. " Pardieu, Mes sieurs," said the young Comte d Estaing to the English courtiers, who had expressed their displeasure and ill- humor at the loss of this lucrative trade, "ce seroit bien ridicule, de fa ire casser la tete a dix milles homines pour quelques douzaines de chapeaux!" Accord ingly, a contrast between the fur-trade on the one hand and the intrigues of Duquesne and Bigot on the other, is inevitable. What opposite causes historians state Have produced the great wars Mhi " h their pages relate ! Thus the Sev.-n Years War has, in whole or in part, A hat for the head and a huir for the heart ! THE GRAVE OF JUMONVILLE. 35 1751 THE GRA YE OF JUMONVILLE. The blood of M. de Jumonville was the first to be >^hed in the Seven Years War, a conflict that extended into every quarter of the globe. This unfortunate Frenchman was in command of a detachment of thirty- flve men, from the fort a few weeks hence to be called Fort Duquesne; and, in a night attack made upon his encampment by a company of Virginians, under the command of Washington, he, with several of his men, was slain May 28th, l~~)L His grave, where lie fell, in a wild and romantic place on the summit of the Chest nut Ridge, known as Jumonville s Camp, in Fayette county, is marked with a slab and inscription; and near by there issue several springs the waters of which flow tu the ocean, and of which any may be in fact that which is represented in the following lines in fancy. An extract from the poem, in four cantos, entitled "Jumonville," written by M. Thomas, a member of the French Academy, and published in 1759, is given in the Appendix to this volume, q. v. Upon a mountain s height, there is a spring, From which, in a continuous course and long, The waters, in a rill, no stronger than The little stream that issues from the heart, Flow on and on unto the sea, and thence Around about the great air-girdled globe, Until the world is washed in the pure flood, That rises, when its work is done on earth. To gleam an arch of glory in high heaven ! Upon this mountain s height, there is a heart, From which, in a continuous course and long, The red blood, in a rill, no stronger than The little stream that issues from the spring, Flows on and on unto the sea of war, And thence about the great air-girdled globe. Until the world is foul with human blood, That sinks beneath the slain into the earth To glare a red flame in the fires of hell ! 30 FORT NECESSITY BRADDOCK s FIELD. Thus side by side, there are on every height Two streams that issue, as two equal rills. And flow unto the sea and thence around About the great air-girdled globe, until, Look where or when you will, and, Christ behold ! The arch of heaven is revealed alone In a reflection of the fires of hell ! 1754 FORT NECESSITY. The next step in the progress of the war between France and England, was the surrender of Major Wash ington, at Fort Xecessity, July 3rd, 1754, to the brother of Jumonville, the fiery Coulon-Villiers, or, as he was known for his prowess, Le Grand Villiers. In the his tory of Washington, this event is remarkable for two reasons: it was his first and last surrender; and it taught him never to sign a paper of the signification of which he was ignorant, that he might, not confess a sec ond time to the " assassination " of Jumonville. The outlines of this fort may be traced at the present day, at the Great Meadows, in Fayette county. In Fort Necessity well chosen word ! The bravest of the brave gives up his sword : To yield again, but with his parting breath. In Fort Necessity once more, to Death. 1755 BRADDOCK S FIELD. The next event in the history of Southwestern Penn sylvania, to be referred to in this volume, is the expedi tion, under the command of Major General Edward Braddock, in 1755, for the reduction of Fort Duquesne, and the ever memorable defeat of the English army on the 9th of July, at a fording of the Monongahela, nine miles from its destination. In the annals of America, this battle stands perhaps unparalleled for slaughter. The English army, with a loss in killed and wounded of more than two-thirds, and the remainder routed in a BRADDOCK S FIELD. 37 wilderness, virtually was annihilated. The expedition xntl the battle, however, require a volume rather than a prologue to a poem for their presentation. The scene of this memorable conflict presents one of the most remarkable industrial expositions to be found on the continent. From the bluff overlooking the val ley, are to be seen in one view three several lines of rail way, with trestle-work, river bridge, and tunnel ; the Monongahela river, with lock and dam, steamboats, coal-fleets, rafts, etc. ; on thejiillsides, the mouths of the coal-pits, and, descending the steeps to the tipples at the water s edge, the railway inclines; in the valley, the magnificent plant, of the Edgar Thomson Steel Works-, and besides the varied works of the industrial town of Braddock near by the only monument to the memo ry of the ill-starred British general. The observer of the scene cannot refrain from contrasting it with that of the 9th of July, 1755. Where the oak. with the weight and the weak ness of age, With a thunder-crash fell in its struggle with death, While the storm and the wild-fire lay crouching to rage, And the forest primeval in awe held its breath ; * There the apple-tree stands with a low bending bough, That the school boy on tiptoe may pluck the red fruit, To sit, with closed book, and eat, wondering how The red blood of Braddock has come from the root. Where the proud army waded the broad rip pling river, At the mid-summer ford on the soft sandy bar, While the flattering flood, with its glitter and quiver, f Redoubled their strength and the glories of war ; There the staunch steamboat flies in the dam- deepened pool, BRADDOCK S FIELD. Overstepped by the stride of a great railroad bridge, Where the fisher-boy sits and calls Braddock a fool For keeping the river and leaving the ridge. Where the jaded hacks || strained in the soft, yielding mud, And down the steep bank backward tumbled and rolled, While dragging the wagons of war from the flood The cannon-balls, powder, provisions, and gold ; There the great irori-horse speeds by day and by Right, In defiance of burden, resistance, and strain ; While the train-boy looks out, to reflect in his flight, What ! if Braddock had taken the cars to Duquesne ! Where the suns of the foe were revealed by a flash A report and the fall of the killed and the wounded, Till the woods were ablaze, and a deafening crash With the wail of the wounded and dying re sounded ; There the ingot aglow is drawn out to a rail, While the cotfee-mill crusher bombs, rattles, and groans, And the water-V>oy hurries along with his pail, Saying, Braddock be blowed ! he s a slouch to Bill Jones \J Where the cannon of Braddock were wheeled in to line, And swept through the forest with shot and with shell But woe to the Briton ! in vain they combine BRADDOCK S FIELD. 39 The thunder of heaven and the lightning of hell ! There the turning converter, while roaring with flame, Pours out cascades of comets and showers of stars, While the pulpit-boy, goggled, looks into the same Thinking little of Braddock and nothing of Mars. Where the womb of the earth opened, teeming with life, When the Redmen, begrimed with their pow der and paint, Their- guns laid aside for the hatchet and knife, Victorious rushed on the dying and faint ! There the coal-cavern yawns on the sloping hill side, And the miner begrimed with the coal-dust and soot, His barrow and pick and his lamp laid aside, Comes out of the pit his employer to shoot ! Where the whoop and the shout of the Redmen and French Resounded exultant and wild through the wood, From the gully which formed their invisible trench. To the great river turbid with mud and with blood ; There the " Gospel of Peace and Good Will to Mankind," Is preached in the pulpit and practiced I pass ; While the valley resounds with "Umbrellas to Mend ! " "Potatoes ! " "Old Clo es ! " "I am blind ! " "Milk! "and "Glass!" 40 SHADDOCK S FIELD. Where the bears** with the flesh of the Halkets were full. \Vhile the wolves in their wrangling rent Shir ley in twain ; Where the crows pecked the eyes out of Spen- delow s skull, And the maggots waxed rounded in Hamil ton s brain ; There the churchman partakes of the sanctified bread. And his son devours melons in spite of the cramp, While his daughter at ten takes her breakfast. in bed, And his dog at the gate tries the leg of a tramp ! Where the bones of the Britons from white turned to brown, As they lay in the shade of the forest for years, Unburied, unknown till his sire to a son, By the gold in the tooth of a bared skull appears Iff There the bones of the dead of the high and the low, In ground consecrated are buried in state Crape, carriages, silver a service a show ! Till the school-girl inters in a cheese-box her cat! Where the battle of Braddock was fought in the wood, Till .the bullet of Fawcett JJ revengefully sped, To dip in the proud, haughty general s blood, And number him first in the list of the dead ; There nothing remains to remind of the same, But an oxidized bullet dug up by a clown, The oak where the Halkets fell that and a Name To mock at the muse in the toil of a town ! BRADDOCK S FIELD. 41 To mock at the muse in the toil of a town ? Nay ; but for a moment, and then to inspire To cleanse of the concrete, like time and renown, And brighten the abstract in poesie s fire ; Till the Battle of Braldock s the Battle of Life, And the conflict of yore is repeated to-day Or continued the same in the spirit of strife, With alone the form changed of the battle array. Every Heart is a Braddock at war in a thicket, Beset with invisible Redmen and French, Awaiting the time when recalled is the picket And Error and Pride stumble into the trench ; Every Heart is a Halket both father and son In an army where Chance utters Braddoek s command, Till the Fawcett of Fate comes behind with his g un , And a tooth in a skull tells alone of The End ! * A startling phenomenon of the forest is the falling, when the air is still, of a great oak that has withstood the storms of centuries. It is a token of the approach of a storm. As the air lightens, the impalpable but none the less potent props, by which the tree is sup ported, are removed, and the tree falls, accordingly, crushed by its own weight. t In after life, Washington was accustomed to ob serve that he had never seen elsewhere so beautiful a sight as was exhibited during this passage of the Mo- nongahela. Every man was attired in his best uniform ; the burnished arms shone bright as silver in the glis tening rays of the noonday sun, as, with colors waving proudly above their heads, and amid inspiring bursts of martial music, the steady files, with disciplined precis ion, and glittering in scarlet and gold, advanced to their position. % This is the popular comment with respect to the course which Braddock pursued. Sargent writes, " The perils of the [river] route were self-evident ; there fore abandoning all idea of pursuing it, he started on the morning of the 7th, and leaving the Indian track 42 K HADDOCK S FIELTX which he had followed so lon sr, essayed to work his way across Turtle Creek some twelve miles above its conflu ence with the Monongahela : a step which, had it been carried out, would have ensured his success. He would then undoubtedly have sat down before the fort with little or no opposition on, his way. Bat the fates were against him. || "There was vile management here," Washington Truly said, with respect to the horses with which the army of Braddock was supplied. To have mounted Jack Fdlstaff s men, they would have been in keeping. ? Among his munitions of war, Braddock is said to have had 2o,OUO in specie. The search for this treasure supposed to have been buried along the line of retreat, is continued to this day. See the following poem. 1 For why ? God wot, Braddock never, at asingle jump on the level, cleared a distance of thirty-one feet,, nine inches and an eighth, as this worthy carries a tape- line in his picket in proof Unit he did, on one occasion, when it, became necessary, in- the very building referred to, to prove an alibi beneath a falling roof! Besides, Braddoek was defeated and is (.lead; while Jones has never been whipped, and is the life of the country for miles around him; and long may he continue so! ** " It is said that for some time after Braddock s de feat, the bears having feasted on the slain, thought they hud a right to eat every human being with whom they met."- l><xl<lrhlr/< s .Yo,V,*, p 21. ft The skeleton of Sir Peter Halket, interlocked with that of a son, was identified by an artificial tooth. When the mournful discovery was made by Major Hal ket a son and brother, he fainted in the arms of his comrades. The tree, pointed out, as the one beneath which the Halkets fell, is en titled to little consideration. ;: Thomas Fawcett, of Fayefte county, in hisoldage Asserted that he shot Braddock, during t,he engagement, in order to check the slaughter of the British and pro vincials, by enabling them to betake themselves to flight without orders, and to avenge a blow dealt by Braddock with his sword upon a brother, who, after the usual manner of fighting with Indians, had betaken himself to a tree behind which he could load and fire in safety. By the critical historian, the story of the old man is pronounced a fiction of self-glory. The possi ble, however, to the poet is the fact, if IK- requires it so to be. Several poems, contemporaneous with the expedi tion of Braddock, are given in the Appendix. THE GRAVE OF lUlAI DufK . 43 175-) 777 K GHA \ L OF JUIADDOCK. From her earliest youfh, Braddoi k was the constant v ner.d of the frail, but beautiful and accomplished actress, George Anne Bellamy. At her request, he gave the agency of his regiment to her putative husband, Mr. Calcratt ; and. on the eve of his departure for America, he went, with Colonel Burton and Captain Orrne, to take a last farewell. "Before we parted," Miss Bellamy writes, in the Apology for her Life, " the General told me he should never see me more ; lor he was going with a handful of men to conquer whole nations; and to do This they must cut their way through unknown nvoods. He produced a map of the country, saying, sit th<> same time, Dt-ar Pop, we are seat like sac rifices to the altar/" Oh, had the grave of Braddock tongue, These words had long ere this been wrung From ev^ry echo iu the glade "Dear Pop ! the sacrifice is made ! " 1755 DUNBAR THE TARDY. "So soon as Braddock was beneath the sod, the march was resumed under Dunbar, who, with 800 wounded in his ranks, arrived at Fort Cumberland on Tuesday, July 22nd, at two in the afternoon. By his po sition in the rear and the sluggishness of his motions, this officer had already acquired the unflattering sobri quet of Dunbar the Tardy ; and his conduct now en countered the censure of his superiors, the disgust of his equals, and even the criticism of his inferiors. At head quarters, his retreat was estimated as more disastrous than the defeat itself." IS ARGENT. Dunbar the Tardy ! Aye, give him the blame Of the stupendous failure, and the shame Of the disastrous ending to the war ! A scapegoat is required yea, damn Dunbar ! 44 THE MYTH OF BRADDOOK s GOLD. - 1755 THE MYTH OF BRADDOCK S GOLD. Braddock is said to have had in his military chest, on the day of his disastrous defeat, 25,000 in specie; and further, report saith not. If, along with the General s instructions and private papers, his baggage and stores, this treasure fell into the" hands of the French and In dians, they made no mention of it in their official re turns. And if, abandoned or secreted by the drivers in their flight from the battle-field, there is a chance that you or I might find it along the line of the retreat, pro vided it has not been exhumed and squandered already. This ghost of a chance, however, for a century and a quarter, has haunted the minds of many, and will for many years to come. There is scarcely a mile of Brad- dock s Road that has not been broken with the mattock at midnight to find this possible, but most improbable treasure. And, as might be supposed, about which there is so much thought in so many persons, there has been evolved a number of legends and stories per taining, to which the following is added. In a lonely wood, two brothers stood Between two ragged rocks, Where, in the mould, lay Braddock s gold. In a rusty iron box. Their clothes were worn with toil, and torn, Their beards were grizzled and thin, Their cheeks were as gaunt as the jaws of Want. And their eyes were the soulless of Sin. For grandsire, sire, and son had they, For a hundred years and more, Searched in the night, in stealth and affright, To find the secreted store. Till all were gone, save the two alone Opposing breast to breast, With the wealth untold of Braddock s gold At their feet in an iron chest. 45 Save the two alone, of skin and bone. In secresy and stealth, But to bend the back and a firm hold take. And rise from want to wealth ! When, lest they false to each other prove, Each knowing the other s sins, With an iron chain, good faith to maintain. They bound together their shins. But they bent in vain, again and again, To lift the weight of their wealth ; For work and waot their strength had spent In secresy and stealth ! But whai of a box of a metal base That doth but the treasure hold? Aye, what of a crust of iron rust, When all within is gold? With a heavy sledge and an iron wedge, The brothers broke the locks ; When *** sledge fell again and the wedge went amain, And opened the lid of the box. When the younger brother, who guided the wedge. Thrust his hand through the opening crack ; In his greed to enrage him that wielded the sledge Above his brother s back ! With a flash of fire from the elder s eye. And a curse with his gasping breath Down came the sledge! but not on the wedge, And the younger lay in death ! Ha! ha! ha! ha! the elder laughed. Till the woods around did ring ! An the wealth untold of Braddock s gold Had made him of earth the king ! He dropped the sledge, and, close to the wedge, He thrust his hands in a trice ; When, with a crack, the wedge flew back. "And he was held in a vise ! 46 THE MYTH OF BRADDOCK s GOLD. And he was held in an iron vise Which the strength of the twain could not wrest. While, plain to the touch of his greedy clutch, He felt the gold in the chest ! Was ever the sooth of the Scriptural saw More plainly shown upon earth, That, from sire to son. the sin shall run, To the third generation and forth. When the hands shall be held in an iron vise, Which the sinner alone can tell, With his end attained in his sinful hand, And his soul for aye in hell ! Behold this wretch of the wretched, the rich. With his gold within his grasp, Grim, grizzled, and gaunt, with work and want. And fast in his coffer s clasp ! Behold this Cain, with an iron chain, To Abel bound perforce, Till he craved as food the flesh and blood Of the stinking, rotting corse ! While the fly went into the open mouth, And its eggs into maggots were grown, That quickened afresh the murdered flesh, Till nothing appeared but bone ! AVhen lo ! a hungry crow flew down Upon the murderer s head, Where, cocking its eyes on his hands in the vise, Upon his eyeballs fed ! When into their sockets the flesh-fly went, And its eggs into maggots were grown, That quickened afresh the murderer s flesh, Till nothing appeared but bone ! Till nothing appeared but bone and bone Bound together with a chain, A heavy sledge, and an iron wedge, And the gold in the grasp of Gain ! A LEGEND OF FORT DUQUESNE. 47 Till nothing appeared, as the years sped by, But iron rust and mould, In a hollowed spot, in a haunted grot, And the myth of Braddock s gold. A myth, forsooth, but withal a truth To be told to young and old, That the greed of Gain, with the curse of Cain, May remain with Braddock s gold ! 1755 .4 LEGEND OF FORT DUQUESNE. From the destruction of Braddock s army in 1755, until the advent of the army under the command of General Forbes, the French held undisputed sway at the head of the Ohio and throughout the valley of the Mis sissippi, during which time the events, related in the following poem, are supposed to have taken place. The number of women at Fort Duquesne is not known ; but from the stores of ladies attire, already mentioned, as having been purchased in King Louis name as mu nitions of war, it may be inferred there were enough to supply the demand of a society play or novel. A num ber of women followed the army of Braddock, three of whom, it is known positively, were saved in the gen eral massacre two to be sent as slaves to Canada, and the third, presumably more comely than her compan ions, to be retained by the French commander at Ve- nango. In fine, as far as I can learn, Woman, if she has not gone into the wilderness hand in hand with Man, has been so hard upon his heels that a turn alone was required to meet face to face, with the usual consequences. An hundred years ago and more, In good King Louis reign, This chance befell, as legends tell, The French in Fort Duquesne. The captain of the guard, Lemoyne, Besought, with gold and fee, The daughter of Dell, the sentinel, His leman lewd to be. 48 A LEGEND OF FORT DUQITES.VE. But never a word spake Isabel, But barely these words three Nay ; never for pelf will I yield myself Unto thy lecherie. k The light of the jewel in my ring. In wedlock to be given, Shall never be made a shameful shade So help me, Christ in heaven ! " And more, Lemoyne : thy wicked words, Speak never to me again, Lest another s ear their echo should hear The sentinel of Duquesne 1 " The sentinel of Duquesne ! God. wot, Compared unto his child, As rude and rough and as gnarled and gruff, As she was meek and mild. At whose dread name, in sudden fear, The lusty coward fled, Within his face no brighter trace Of blood than in the dead. Now. mark the cunning of Lemoyne To compass his intent : Unto Pardee, in secresie A summons straight he sent. And in his hand he placed a sword, With never a word but three " Art thou a drudge to bear a grudge Unto eternity? "Crouched in thy cloak, as Isabel, Unto her father advance, And with thy sword strike with the word LOUISIANA NEW FRANCE ! ;1 And when the morrow s sun shall see The dead man in the fort, The captain s oath shall save us both From any ill report. A LEGEND OF TORT DUQUESNE. 49 With a willing ear, the wicked wight Heard every evil word ; With <rnashing teeth and indrawn breath, He grasped the profered sword. Whereat Lcmoyne, unto his bed In expectation crept, To hang on the morn the murd rer forsworn, And in dreams of Isabel, slept. Meantime, fair Isabel had gone Unto her father, perchance, And passed the word to be spoken and heard LOUISIANA NEW FRANCE ! And while in his bosorn she toid her tale, His gun athwart her back, The sentinel s eye caught against the sky A shadow in her track ! The shadow of a woman or witch, In the might of a magic spell, That spake the word to be spoken and heard, With the voice of Isabel ! When crash ! a ready, rapid sword Against the musket fell, To break and fall upon the wall Before the sentinel. But ere the blade had ceased to ring Upon the parapet, The murderous shade in death vtas laid By the sentinel s bayonet. A light procured, the sentinel Discovered in the slain One of the guard whose life he had spared Erewhile in Fort Duquesne. And in the summons in his fob, And in the broken sword, The base design of the lusty Lemoyne, The captain of the guard. 50" A LEGEND OF FORT DUQCESXE. "Come hither, my child, and doff thy gown, The valiant sentinel said ; And then anon he bade her doo The raiment of the dead. And into her hand he placed his gun, And bade her pace the wall, And cry "All s well ! r like a sentinel, To every current call. Then into the gown of Isabel, He thrust the naked dead, To bear it away, ere the break of day, Unto the captain s bed. And .what thougU curt were the sleeves and skirt For Isabel was small, While in life the slain had stood in Duquesne, The tallest of the tall With the broken sword, the sentinel Cut off the legs at the knee, And eke the head and the arms of the dead, And fit it to a tee. Then away he sped to the captain s bed, And laid the corse by his side, The truth to tell, as Isabel, And bade him greet his bride. "Oh, wherefore liest thou so* still And hidest thou thy head ? Oh, raise thy lip that I may sip " He drank the blood of the dead ! u And, dearest love, unfold thine arms. And clasp me to thy breast Here let me He until I die " It was a corpse he pressed ! Xay. Isabel, unlock thy limbs, Lest force with prayer unite " When lo ! appeared one of the guard The murdered Dell, with a light ! A LEGEND OF FORT DUQUESNE. 51 ( ) li error of horrors, the lusty Lemoyne Beheld, in his embrace, The mangled corse of Isabel ? worse? Of the wretch Pardee in her place ! And when with horror his soul was glut, In terror he shrieked outright ; But he called in vain in Fort Duquesne. For aid that terrible night. For the storm, that wrapped tin? world in black. Had burst above the fort, And naught could be heard by the startled guard But the thunder s loud report. And naught could be seen but, Christ behold ! On the wall the sentinel, llevealed in the night by the daggering light Like a sentinel of hell ! A monster with a severed head Suspended, in the air, Above a face of matchless grace, With a woman s flowing hair ! A monster, with two severed legs, That strode upon the wall, Now stalking here, now stilting there, Most marvelously tall ! A monster, with two severed arms That waved to and fro, As if to catch a fleeing wretch, Or clutch a struggling foe ! A monster with a flaming gun With a gleaming bayonet From the crooked joint to th,e quivering point, A dazzling lightning jet ! * A monster that, above the storm, Cried thrice and again, "All s well !" In a tone as clear to every ear As the voice of Isabel ! 52 A LEGEND OF FORT DUQUESNE. Until the cock crew in the morn, When lo ! the monster fled ; And the valiant Dell, the sentinel, Unwittingly btood in its stead ! But whence the captain of the guard ? And whence the wretch Pardee ? Borne with the flood in the River of Blood Unto the salt, salt sea. Leaving naught behind to keep them in mind And their unhappy chance, But the broken sword and the spoken word LOUISIANA NEW FRANCE. A word a Name, God wot, to drift In a few years down the river To its multiple mouth in the sunny South. And there to abide forever. Where on a snag, a floating flag Had lodged erewhile and lain Or was it the gown that had drifted down With the twain from Fort Duquesne ? * This phenomenon has received the appellation of St. Elmo s Fire. It was known to the ancients by the name of Castor and Pollux, and many instances have been re corded by classic writers. The night before the battle gained by Posthumius over the Sabines, the Roman jav elins emitted a light like torches; and Caesar relates that during the African war, in the month of February, there suddenly arose, about the second watch of the night, a dreadful storm that threw the Roman army in to great confusion, at which time the points of the darts of the fifth legion appeared to be on fire. The fire of St. Elmo is displayed frequently upon the masts of vessels ; and at Edinburg castle, which stands upon a high rock, it is noticed often. Here, upon the approach of a storm, the bayonets of the soldiers on guard are seen frequently capped with flame, and an iron ram rod, placed upright upon the walls, presents th. appearance of a rod of flame. This curious phenomenon has been explained by Brocklesby as follows : When in a darkened room a needle is brought near to the chur^.-d KIT-TANNING. conductor of an electrical machine, the point is tipped with a vivid light, caused by the flow of electricity from the conductor to the needle. In the same manner when thunder-clouds approach very near the earth, lightning does not always occur; but the electricity becomes so intense, that it escapes from one to the other by points upon the surface of the earth, which then glow with a brilliant flame. 1756 KITTANN1NG. In September, 17ofi, an expedition, under the com mand of Colonel John Armstrong, of Carlisle, was put into execution against the Indian town of Kit-tanning, about forty miles north of Fort Duquesne, on the Al legheny river, from which, up the Kiskiminetas and Conemaugh and down the Juniata, the Indians made their incursions into the settlements in the central part of Pennsylvania, to glut their appetites, rendered raven ous for scalps and prisoners, by the destruction of Brad- dock s army, in which they shared. At this place, the French had deposited ammunition and supplies for the Indians, sufficient, as they boasted, to carry on war against the English for ten years. Here, it was, too, that the noted Indian, Captain Jacobs, a Deleware, resided permanently, and the no less celebrated Shingis, occa sionally. Jacobs was among the slain, at the destruc tion of the town, and the military stores. The force of Armstrong consisted of 307 men, of whom 17 were killed, 19 reported missing, and 13 wounded, including the gal lant Colonel, who received a large musket ball in the shoulder. P^leven women and children, English cap tives, were retaken and restored to their friends. The loss to the savages is unknown, beyond the fact that it was severe, serving to che^k their ravages for some time afterward. Such of them as had belonged to Kittan- iiing and escaped the carnage, refused to settle again on the east of Fdrt Duquesne, very wisely placing that fortress and the French garrison be tween them and the English. Auld Scotland may crack o hcr Armstrongs at hame, Till the day of doom doth dawn, But there s ane that s awa is a head aboon a 1 , A braw man and worthy, hight John. 54 WILLIAM PITT. Och, ower the mountain and ower the moor. He cam wi three hundred a tould, And beleagured the thief o an Indian chief lu the town of Kittanning of auld. Och, the fire it leapt high, aud the fire it leapt far. Till the town was a in a lowe, And wha were nae brent, w their lang ha me were sent Wi the guns o ? the compassing foe. But the eagle of victory never sae screams, As when it soars drippin wi gore O the three hundred men a tould and again. There were wounded and killed two score. But wha will measure the^ victory s worth, By the slain o foe or friend, Is a near-sighted loon i the blink o the moon. That sees nor beginnin nor end ! Och, what sae gleams on Johnny s broad breast. Beneath a showther scar? Hout ! what should it be that sae glams i the e e, But the gowden glories o war ! But what is the sound that greets the ear? Ah, that is the prayer to God the mother and wean wha hae captive been, Hame returned frae the wild, wild wood. Aye, proudly, proudly the guid gowd gleams On Johnny Armstrong s breast ; But dearer far than the glories o war Is the prayer that mak s him blest ! 1757 WILLIAM PITT. During the years 1755, 17f>fi, and 1757, a series of de feats in succession pursued the English arms in America, until despondency seized upon the mind of the people. CHRISTIAN FREDERICK POST. 55 I never saw so dreadful a time!" exclaimed Lord Chesterfield. At length the creation of a new ministry in Eng land, at the head of which was placed William Pitt, af terward the Earl of Chatham, produced an immediate <-hange for the better in the aspect of affairs. Public confidence revived, and the nation was inspired with new vigor. An objective point to the new administration was the head of the Ohio; and the reduction of Fort Du quesne was determined upon at all hazards. This was achieved in the following year, when a new fort, upon the ashes of Duquesne arose to perpetuate the name and fame of the Premier of England forever, Fort Pitt, upon the site of which stands to-day the City of Pittsburgh, a monument, I trow, as proud and enduring as any within the walls of Westminster. The Little World was a thought in his brain - The reduction forthwith of defiant Duquesne ! The Little World in his hand was a prize The Fort of the Frenchman a cloud in the skies ! The Little World is a world of fame, Revolving for aye round the hub of his Name ! 17o8 CHRISTIAN FREDERICK POST. In order to prevail upon the Deleware, the Shawa- nese, and the Mingo Indians, to withdraw from the French, Christian Frederick Post was dispatched to the Ohio by the government of Pennsylvania, in advance of the second English army marched through the wilder ness for the reduction of Fort Duquesne the army un der the Head of Iron, General John Forbes, a native of Scotland. Post was an honest, unassuming German, a Moravian, who, as a missionary, had become acquaint ed with the Indians and they with him: and how well he succeeded in his mission may be, learned from the follow ing poem. In 17U2, a hundred miles west of the site of Fort Duquesne, he attempted to establish a mis sion, but, failing in this, he removed to the Bay of Hon- 56 CHRISTIAN FREDERICK POST. duras, to preach the Gospel to the Mosquito Indians. His Journal is one of the most interesting of the rec ords of the Little World. An army of four thousand men Wound thro the wild, wild wood, The British lion on their flag, Their coats as red as blood ; The fate of Braddock in their hearts, As they crept thro I he heath ; But never, I ween, was foeinan seen, And all was still as death : For the Man of Peace * their track had crossed An hour before, in Frederick Post ! With drums unslung, and pipes unblown, With eyes and ears alert. The trembling thousands shunned the glen And glade with thicket girt ; But the sword by day with rust was red, And by night with dew was wet, While, in mockerie, the leaves of the tree Fell on the bayonet : For the Man of Truth f had come with the frost That shook the leaves, in Frederick Post ! The scout by day crept in the brake, And crouched behind the oak, Or looked afar from tho mountain s height For the hidden camp-fire s smoke ; The sentinel alone at night Stared at the ogling owl, And shuddered at the scream of the cat, And the wolf s discordant howl : But the Man of Faith J availed them most. Who had gone before, in Frederick Post ! The Head of Iron, from his couch, Gave courage and command, Which Washington, Bouquet, and Grant Repeated to the band ; CHRISTIAN FREDERICK TOST. 57 Till, hark ! the Highlanders- began With their chieftain s words to swell, u To night, I shall sup and drain my cup In Fort Duquesne or Hell ! " || But the Man of Prayer, and not of boast, Had spoken first, in Frederick Post! At length the army stood amazed Upon a vacant plain, And pitched their tent in wonderment On the ashes of Duquesne ! The formidable Frenchman, gone ! And the Redman come, in sport, The peace-pipe to light, in the gathering night, With a brand from the burning fort ! For the Man of God ^ with a mightier host Had gone before, in Frederick Post ! " I prayed the Lord to restore peace and prosperity to the distressed." Post s Journal. f "They were certain I would speak the truth." Ibid. "I have a good conscience before God and man." Ibid. % "The Lord knows how they have been counselling about my life ; but they [the French] did not know who was my protector and deliverer : 1 believe my Lord has been too strong against them; my enemies have done what lies in their power." Ibid. "I told them it is done by no other means than by faith " Ibid. " I said. As God hath stopped the mouths of the lions, that they could not devour Daniel, so he will preserve us from their fury, and bring us through. " Ibid. || John Ormsby, a commissary in the army under Forbes, makes the following statement iu his brief biog raphy of the Head of Iron : " When the army arrived at Turtle Creek, a council of war was held, the result of which was, that it was im practicable to proceed, all the provisions and forage be ing exhausted. On the General being told of this, he swore a furious oath, that he would sleep in the Fort or a worse place the next night." g "I slept very sound, and in the morning they asked me if I was not afraid the enemy Indians would kill me. I said, No, I am not afraid of the Indians, nor of the devil himself: I fear my great Creator, God." 58 LOTALHANITA, Post s Journal. And yet discretion was the better part of valor even in Christian Frederick Post: "Some of my party desired me not to stir from the fire; for that the French had offered a great reward for my scalp, ami that there were several parties out for that purpose. Accordingly, I stuck constantly as close to the fire, as if I luid been chained there. 1 Ibid. " I prayed to the Lord to- blind them [the French,] as he did the enemies of Lot and Elisha, that I might pass unknown." Ibid. f "The Lord helped me that I got safe from my horse." Ibid. "Praise and glory be to the Lamb, that has been slain, and brought me through the country of dreadful jealously and mistrust, wht^re the prince of this world has his rule and government over the children of disobedience." Ibid. - 1758 LOYALHANNA. While the army of Forbes lay on the banks of the Loyalhanna,* about fifty miles east of Fort Duquesne an encampment which a few months hence became Fort Ligonier, Colonel George Washington, in com mand of the troops from Virginia, indited several letters to the woman with whom he was enamored at the time, and who, in after years, became his wife, but not a mother to the Father whose child was destined to be One among the Nations of the Earth. Thrice blessed the name of the beautiful stream That winds through the leafy grove, Where, rapt in a vision of pleasures elysian, George Washington sighed in love ! Fond lover ! behind the morrow s wall, Thou starest into stone ! The womb of woman is given unto man To bear mortal daughter and son But the womb of war has been given to thee ! And erelong it shall burst into fire, And a Nation of Earth come forth into birth, Immortal, to hail thee Sire ! FORT MACHATTLT. * The signification of the word Loyalhaima a va riation or corruption of La-el -han -neck, as given by McCullough, is Middle Creek: possibly because, it is sibout midway between the month of the Black Lick and the Allegheny, in descending the Conemaugh and Kiskiminetas. Mrs. Margaret C. Craig gives a tradi tionary signification, namely, Clear-running Water, which is erroueoias" albeit.it has been accepted by my learned friend, James Johnston, Esq., of Kingston; while the legend which attributes the name t<j the faithful daughter of the last of the Indians who resided in the gorge, a certain Loyal Hanna, wh supported her father in the extremity of age, with her bow and arrow, is on a, par with the popular origin of the word Ligoriier, the name of the old fort on the Loynihanna, at present the town of Ligonier, in Ligotiier township, Westmoreland county : namely, that an early hunter, shooting at a deer while the animal was scratching its ear with its hind foot, by chance killed it, perforating at the same time the leg , ear! 1759 FORT MACHAULT. " At this point the French fort at Venango there were sometimes as many as one thousand men. A large force had assembled here in July, 1759, to make an attack on Fort Pitt, to recover what they had lost in. Fort Duquesne, when intelligence came that Fort Niag ara was besieged, and orders to evacuate and hasten thither to the rescue. The creek was too low to convey their effects by boat, and there was no transportation by land, beyond personal baggage. So, presents were dis tributed with a lavish hand to the Indians. Grim war riors were seen strutting about in laced coats and hats, without other clothing, and dusky maidens were rich with red blankets, worn shawl-wise, and gaudy with immense strings of beads. The property was collected into the Fort, set on fire, and all that would burn was reduced to ashes. Thus, after a possession here of five and a half years, the French claim was aban doned forever." EATON. The while, the interior of Fort Pitt, was in the fol lowing plight, as depicted by John Ormsby, the commissary " Our Commandant, Col. Mercer, was informed by express that there were 1,500 regulars and a strong 60 GUYASOOTHA. l.ody of Indians at Venango, making ready for an expedition against our post, which would at tack us within three days. "Thisanformation, you may be sure, struck ti panic into our people, being 3(H) miles from any aid, and sur rounded by the merciless savages, from whom no expec tation of mercy was in view, but immediate destruction by the tomahawk, or lingering starvation. "I must own, I made my sincere application to the Almighty, to pardon my sins and extricate us from this deplorable dilemma. Our prayers were heard, and we [were] extricated from the dreaded massacre, for day before the expected attack, an Indian fellow arrived from Niagara, informing Col. Mercer that General Johnson laid siege to Niagara, with a formidable English army, so that the attack on Fort Pitt was countermanded, and the French and Indians ordered to return toward Ni agara with the utmost haste. This was done, and when they arrived within a day s march of Niagara, the brave Irish General Johnson ordered an ambuscade to a diffi cult pass, through which the above troops were to march, and thus they were all killed or taken, to the great joy of poor Ormsby and his associates !" Farewell, and forever, Thou, Beautiful River!" Was the Frenchman s adieu, with his brag array, When, resounding afar, The cannons of war Redoubled the roar of Niagara ! 1763 GUYASOOTHA. During the Heroic Period of the history of the Little World of Southwestern Pennsylvania, possibly the most important personage among the Indians, as well as the most characteristic savage in contrast with the White man, was Guyasootha, a leader of the Seneca tribe of the Six Nations. " A most distinguished character in deed," writes Craig, "in all the movements here, from the time of Washington s first visit until after the close of our revolution. He was one of the Indians who ac companied Washington from Logstown to Le Boeuf. He was then young and not very prominent. He was GUYASOOTHA. 61 present, and a leading- character, in the conference with Colonel Bradstreet, near Lake Erie, in 1764, and a few weeks later at the conference with Bouquet on the Mus- kingurn. He was a leading character in the conference held at this place [ Pittsburgh] in April and May, 1768. He was the leader in the attack upon and burning of Hannastown in 17S2. In 1770, while Washington was descending the Ohio river, he was visited by an Indian whom he recognized as one of his companions in 1754, It was Guyasutha. His name, t6o, has been so various ly spelled that it is sometimes difficult to trace him in different notices. Guyasutha, Guyasootha, Kiasutha, Kaishuta. Guyasudy, and General Richard Butler, who understood some of the Indian dialects spelled it Kia- sola. He survived all the troubles of the French war, [1754-9, J of the war sometimes called Pontiac s and some times Guyasutha s [1763-4,] and of our Revolution [1776- 83,] the most fatal of all to the power and glory of the Six Nations. Finally he died in our neighborhood within the memory of many now Mving [in 1851,] and left his name to the beautiful plain on the Allegheny river, where his remains now rest. At the breaking out of the war, the honors of which have been divided between him and Pontiac, in 1763. he was at the meridian of mauhood, an organic expression of his environment magnificent to behold. It was the observation of a child, That every plant that grows grows in accord With its surroundings, in the sun or shade, ID humid ground or dry, in rich or poor, Until, beholding dwarfed and stunted fruit, He saw the cause in the effect direct, And cried out, " Ho ! that grew upon the ridge ! But o er and o er a thousand times, the child Turned in the dust of dissolution, and Looked out upon the world, before he saw Himself grow as the plant, in strict accord With his environment the air he breathed, The soil from which he drew his sustenance, The great without which turned to the within ; When lo ! beholding self as he had grown, He saw himself forthwith the ear-marked son Of his environment, his sire, his God ! 62 THE PIPER LAD. Reviewing, in the globules of his blood, His past paternal in epitome ! Lo ! Guyasootha rises from the grave As he appeared to Washington as he Stood side by side with Pontiac as he Declaimed before Bouquet as he pursued The harvesters of Hannastown as he In fact personified the wilderness An hundred years ago and more : The tawny twilight of the wild, wild wood, Organic in the color of his skin ; The sombre solitude in which he roamed, The sullen mood in which he thought and willed : The storm, that gathered in the air, revolving:. Until it took the great oak in its grasp And laid it prostrate with a scornful fling, His purpose whirling unto its fulfilment The distant fort, unguarded in the night, A heap of ashes, and the morning air A sickening stench of burning blood and bonea ! Majestic Man, within the wild, wild wood, The sum of thy surroundings seen in blood ! THE PIPER LAD. 1763 This little ballad, which has been set to music and published by the writer, has no purview beyond being a souvenir in song of the memorable Battle of Bushy Run, AugustStH and 6th, 1763, in which the Indians under Guyasootha were repulsed with severe loss, by an Eng lish army, under Colonel Henry Bouquet, and com posed almost wholly of Highlanders in their kilts and plaids, and of the intimate association between Scot land, by means of her soldiers and emigrants, and Southwestern Pennsylvania, the scene of their exploits or the place of their settlement. "It is quite remarka ble," writes Craig, "how prominent Scotchmen were in the early history of this country. Stobo was long confined in Fort Duquesne. Forbes drove the French froii this place, and Mercer was the first officer in com- THE PIPER LAD. 63 maud in the first Fort Pitt. Sir Peter Halket and his son, with several other Scotchmen, fell at Braddock s field. While at Grant s defeat, [ in advance of the army of Forbes, in 1758,] four officers of the name of Macken zie, three McDonalds, a Munro and a Campbell, all of the Highland Regiment, were killed, while Major Grant himself was wounded and taken prisoner, and one hundred and thirty-one soldiers were killed or miss ing." While, in after years in other spheres of life be sides that of the soldier, there were many distinguished Scotchmen, the names of several of whom will appear in the following pages. Lang he loo ed her, lang he wooed her, But she mocked wi scorn k Breek sae raggit ! limb sae scraggit ! Piper laddy born ! " But heart o man ayj canna thole O woman s scorn the dreesome dole : He s ta en his fayther s pipe in hand, And gane to foreign land. " Come back, Jamie dear ! Come back, Jamie dear ! " But seas are wide, and wae betide, Her Jamie canna hear. Loud he skirlit, loud he thirlit, A that bluidy day, Boon the rattle o the battle, "Brawly ! " quo Bouquet. But savage ear has ta en the sound, And savage e e the lad has found : The pipe gi es out a mournfu blast The piper s blawn his last ! u Come back, Jamie dear ! Come back, Jamie dear ! " But graves are deep, and dead men sleep Her Jamie canna hear. Bells are ringin , backward swingin , Hame the sogers come ! Hearts are beatin , een are greetin , 64 THE BIRD OF BOUQUET. Tongues wi joy are dumb 1 The pibroch sounds ayon* the wa But Jeannie s heart is biak in twa ! While ithers run she stands aghast It is nae Jamie s blast ! ;- Come back, Jamie dear 1 Come back, Jamie dear ! But ruefu groans stir nae dead bones Her Jamie canna hear I 1763 THE BIRD OF BOUQUET. The following mnemonic for the nurse^ was sug gested by a popular rhy me that answers the inevitable question of the child, on seeing for the first time the red headed woodpecker, and, it is hoped, in a no less satis factory manner to all concerned. If the fiction serve to- fix the fact of the Battle of Bushy Run in the memory of a single child, that it, in after years, may turn to the page of history to emulate henceforth the virtues and the worth of the gallant Colonel Henry Bouquet who commanded the British troops in their decisive victory over the savages in 1703. the jingle and rhyme shall have achieved the end of its being: so, with a God-speed on its errand, let it pass! l Oh ! what has made your head so red ? " A wondering boy to the woodpecker said. " A-rack, a-tack, tack ! " the woodpecker said, "I ve flown thro the wood where the Highlan ders bled, And that has made my head so red." And what has made your back so black?" The little boy said to the woodpecker s clack. The woodpecker answered, "A-rack, a-tack, tack ! I ve flown o er the dead in the Highlander s track, And that has made my back so black." THE BIRD OF BOUQUET. 65 l " And what has made your wings so white ? The little boy said, as the bird took its flight. The woodpecker said, ere it pissed out of sight, "I ve flown where the Highlanders won the great fight, And that has made my wings so white." " What is your name, oh, tell to me, Before you peck another dead tree ? " The bird afar was heard to say, 4 0h, I am the tricolored bird of Bouquet,* Who led the Highlanders on to the fray ! " * A monument to the memory of Bouquet, remains in the City of Pittsburgh to-day a redoubt, construct ed by him in 1764, built of brick, surmounted at the square with heavy timbers pierced for muskets, and still in a good state of preservation. The following il lustration is exact except in the particular of the tablet, which has been removed to Municipal Hall. MEGGIE STINSOX. I76i MEGG1E S TIN SON. The year sncceeding his decisive victory at Bushy Run, Colonel Bouquet marched an army from Fort Pitt into the heart of the Indian country, the forks of the Muskingum. Here the savages,- overawed by his prow ess and success, sued for peace, and surrendered all the white prisoners which they had taken and which were still alive among them. As many as two hundred and six persons were delivered thereby to their friends, and many and touching were the scenes of their re union. Among the young women given up was Meggie Stinson, or .Stevenson, who had been taken into captiv ity when a child beyond her recollection; and Avho, when recognized by her overjoyed and aged mother, shrank from her as from a stranger of another blood, for days and weeks, until she made an effort to return to her savage life in the woods, to avoid the old woman s unaccountable appeal to her for a daughter s recogni tion. When, at length, at the suggestion of Bouquet, the mother sang the songs with which she had soothed to sleep her child in her arms, and awakened the recol lection of the captive to a life that knew a mother s love, effecting finally a complete restoration of the young woman to herself and her mother now almost delirious with joy. In the histories of the expedition of Bouquet, the mother of the captive is said to have been a German, a native of Bentlingen, in Wittemberg, and the name of the captive Regina, which is doubtless the fact; but, in order to preserve a local and traditionary variation, as well as to have a companion song to "The Piper Lad, I have given the Scottish in preference to the German version, which, in the form of a Sunday-school book, is known widely and well. Dochrer, dear, oh, dinna flee me ! Mither s hand s nae fearfu grip ; Dochter, dear, oh diuna dree me ! Mither s heart braks o my lip : Dinna ken auld age and care Blear the e e and pu the hair? Oh, dinna ken your ain bluid s mfther THE IRISH CONVICT. Frae anither Greetin sair? Lullaby! lullaby! Sleep, my bairnie, Lullaby. Diuna mind your daddy s daffiu liidin straidelt o his knee; Brither tooinblin , sister laughin . Towser ocourin 1 ower the lea? Diuna mind the cosy nest O your mither s fauldin breast ? Oh, dinna mind your mither s croonin Sorrow drooriin A 1 in rest? Lullaby! lullaby! Sk>ep, my bairnie, Lullaby. lose your een sae wild and eerie Ance mair in this breast o mine, Ance mair mither s bairnie weary Hear the sangs o auld lang syne. God for evermair be blest ! Wakit heart is beatin fast ! Mither s sang her bairn s bluid rins in ! Meggie Stinson ! % Found at last ! Lullaby! lullaby! Sleep, my bairnie, Lullaby. 1765 THE IRISH CONVICT. "The Indian traders used to buy the transported Irish, and other convicts, as servants, to be employed in carrying up the goods among the Indians; many of these ran away from their masters, and 68 THE IRISH CONVICT. joined the Indians. The ill behavior of these people has always hurt the character of the English among the Indians. RUPP. The peace of ten years, which followed the victory of Bouquet at Bushy Run, opened the valley of the Mis sissippi to the English trader without molestation from the French, but not from the treacherous savage, greedy for scalps and spoils, or frenzied with rum, which, with ammunition, formed the chief articles given in ex change for peltry , so that the following fiction, in the particular of the killing of the trader, may be looked upon as a fact. In 1770, according to a statement made by Washing ton, in the journal of his second visit to the forks of the Ohio, the future city of Pittsburgh comprised about twenty log houses which were inhabited solely by Indian traders. Och, blood an ounds, ye imps of the divil, Can t ye quet yer jabb rin , be daycent, and civil? There, hould off yer hand from yer murderin gun ! Can t ye hear my knees spake that I can t stand to run ? Och, honey, ye spalpeens, yer mightily frisky, AVith only a sniff of my good Irish whisky ! There, put yer dry lips to the keg on my showther, And the de il take yer smokin so close to my powther ! Faith, a tight Irish lad I am, frish from the sod, Shipped over the say for the ould country s good ; With divil a groat for my passage to pay, And a lord lookin after my hil^th every day ! Whin I landed, och hone, what a wilcome I found, Civility, blarney, attintion all round ! Sure, it wasn t a tuppence at Cork I d a brought, But here, for tin pounds, by the pow rs, I was bought ! THE IRISH CONVICT. 69 And thin what an illigant gintleman came, And "Paddy, 11 says he says he, "what s yer name?" "Yer worship," says I, "I can t be too sartin ; But I think its My Eye and Betty Martin ! " Thin this illtgant gintleman went to a store, And "Paddy, yer dry," says he. "That I am, sure ! " Whin a keg of ould whisky he clapped on my back, And strapped it there tight with a whang and a whack ] Thin "Paddy," says he, "are ye feard of the smell" Of nothing," says I says I, "barrin hell!" "Thin, Paddy," says he, "rest this on yer showther; " And he strapped by the whisky a keg of gun- powther ! Thin, "Paddy," says he, "are ye spoilin for work ? " "Yer honor." says I, "what brought me from Cork?" " Thin " Paddy," says he, "just to lave yer hands rest, I ll bind one on yer back and one on yer chest ! " "Now, Paddy," says he, " lest ye lose yer way, I ll travel along with ye day after day ; " So, over the mountains, we jogged side by side, When crack ! wint a gun, and the gintlemau died! Ah, thin by myself I was left all alone, Like an orphan at say in a strange land of stone, Whin these dirty divils yer worships, I mane, Took compassion on me in my murderin pain. 70 BALD EAGLE. But och, blood an ounds, can t ye cut off these thongs ? And hould to yer divil s own jabberin tongues? Or spake that a scholar may hear what ye mane And honey, my darlint, don t do that again ! You, you, ye ould smoke-dried Yer honor, I beg, Will not knock off yer ashes again on this keg ! Sure, didn t I tell yes, I had on my showther But one keg of whisky and one of gun-powther? Och, murther ! Ye blackguard, it s well for yer hide, I m alone by myself with my hands nately tied ! Can t ye drink of the one, now, without Holy Mother ! Presarve us, and keep his ould pipe from the other ! 1766 BALD EAGLE. " Bald Eagle was an inoffensive old Deleware war rior. He was on intimate terms with the early settlers, with whom he hunted, fished and visited. He was well- known along the Monongahela river, up and down which he frequently passed in his canoe. Somewhere up the river, probably about the mouth of Cheat, he was killed by whom, and at what pretence, is unknown. His dead body, placed upright in his canoe, with a piece of corn- bread in his clenched teeth, was set adrift on the river. The canoe came ashore at Provance s Bot tom, where the familiar old Indian was at once recog nized by the wife of William Yard Provance, who won dered he did not leave his canoe. On closer observa tion, she found he was dead. She had him decently buried on the Fayette shore, near the residence of Rob ert McClean, at what was known as McClean s Ford. This murder was regarded, both by whites and Indians, BALD EAGLE. as a great outrage, and the latter made it a prominent item in their list of unavenged grievances." VEECH. With the sun s first beam, the barefooted boy Hails the hoary chieftain s coming with joy ; But his voice is choked in wonder and fright When he sees a wild bird with its mate alight On the drooping shoulders and snow-white head, And take from the mouth of a dead man, bread ! At noon, when the sage has come into view, The father awaits the birch canoe ; And his cheek turns pale and his voice is dumb When to his welcoming no words come. And lo ! till the sage has swept by with the flood, It is felt but not spoken "It bodes no good ! :: While the mother advancing, looks now at the boat, And then at the father his fears to note, Till the milk in her bosom is checked jn its flood, And the babe at her breast stains its lips with her blood ; Yet she heeds not its biting and hears not its cry, While she sees in the white hairs its shroud drifting by. So, late in the evening, the grandsire stands, And beckons the boatman with trembling hands ; And shouts in a whisper, and strains his eyes, Till, more within than without he descries, The phantom of Man in a boat on Time s river Drifting on through the night to the Sea of Forever ! At midnight, hark ! a knock is heard Or is it the wing of a startled bird That blindly beats at the cabin s wall ? And listen ! hush ! Is it a call ! And that the death-whoop ? or the howl Of the worrying wolf? or only an owl ? 72 WESTMORELAND. The morning dawns \ and the father T s brawn Is broiling on the threshold stone : His gun-barrel grasped in his eager grip ; His look of defiance burnt into his lip ; While the grandsire s bones are crumbling and white In the ash of the bed where he slept in the night. While the barefooted boy, with a bloody track. And with pinioned hands, and a burdened back 7 Files into the forest the savage s slave \ While the mother kneels in vain to save The milk, oozing out of her undrained pap, Trickling into the brains of the babe in her lap ! Ah, woe the day, when Murder forsook Its garb of guilt and its secret look, And stalked, in fantastic robe, abroad A mockery of man and God When, down the river that flows from the South, Came the Bald Eagle s corpse with corn-bread in its mouth ! 1773 WESTMORELAND. The County of Westmoreland was erected in the thirteenth year of the reign of George III., by an act passed on the 26th day of February, 1773. It comprised at first the greater part of Southwestern Pennsylvania, but has been divided since into several. The Little World was a wild, wild wood, Without or shape or laws, When George the Third declared the word. And lo ! Westmoreland was ! THE WHIPPING-POST. 73 1773 THE WHIPPING-POST. I attempt to locate the house of Robert Hanna where the courts were held; but in vain. Pondering about it, however, as I go along, I cannot refrain from. seeing in fancy several scenes which fixed themselves in my memory from a perusal of the musty old records in the archives at, Greensburg which report them. I fancy I hear the hasty stroke of the heavy lash, and the responsive shriek of the barebacked sufferers, on that eventful day, sacred to the lash in these old annals, the eighth of October, 1773, when, at the public whipping post James Brigland received twenty lashes well laid on ( the day before he got ten as an appetizer,) Luke Picket received twenty -one, and Patrick. John Masterson fif teen. Reveries of a Hambler from Oreensburg to Han- nastoivn, in 1874. The record of this eventful day for the lash, referred to in the above citation, is as follows: transcribed as it has been penned in the Docket of the Quarter Sessions of Westmoreland county, by Arthur St. Clair, the first prothonotary and clerk of the courts, of the county: of whom and the first presiding judge, Colonel William Crawford, more anon.* The King v James Brigland Felony, ( true Bill ) Defendant being arraigned pleads Guilty and Submits to the Court Judgment that the said James Brigland be taken the eighth Instant between the hours of eight & ten in the Morning to the Public Whipping Post and there to re ceive 20 lashes on his Bare Back well laid on that he pay a fine of six shillings to his Honour the Governor that [he] make Restitution of the Goods stolen to the owner <fc pay the costs of prosecution & stand committed till complied with. The King v Luke Picket Felony, (ti-ue bill ) Defendant being arraigned pleads non Cul de hoc Att y Genl. Simileter & issue And now a Jury being called came to wit, James Kincade, William Lyon, John Armstrong, Henry Mar- THK WHIPPING -POST. (in, William Linn, Robert Meeks, James Carnaughan-,. Joseph McDowel, Lewis Davison, William, Davison,. John Wright & Alexander Dugless who being duly im- pannelled, returned, elected tried chosen sworn and up on their respective Oaths do say that Luke Picket is Guilty of the Felony whereof he stands Indicted. Judgment that the said Luke Picket be taken to- Morrow Morning (being the 8th Instant) between the hours of eight & ten to the Public Whipping Post and, there to receive 21 Lashes on his Bare Back well laid on,. that he pay a tine of .-32..1..0 to his Honour the Gov ernor that he make Restitution of the Goods stolen to the Owner, pay the Costs of Prosecution and stand com mitted till complied with. The King v Patrick John Mas terser? Felony ( true Bill ) Defendant being arraigned 1 pleads norr Cul de- hoe Att y Genl. Si mil Her & issue. [ The same jury as above was impaneled.] Judgment that the said Patrick John Masterson be taken to Morrow Morning (being the eighth Instant) between the hours of eight & ten to the Public Whip ping Post and there receive 15 Lashes on his Bare Back well laid on that he pay a fine of 5.. 10., to his Honour the Governor that he make Restitution of the Goods stolen to the owner & pay the costs of prosecution & stand committed till complied with. The candle burned with a waning light Till it flickered in the socket, While I poured o er the page that s musty wjtt Of the Quarter Sessions Docket Of the courts that were held at Hanna s inn, From early morn till dark, When Crawford sate in ermined state, And Arthur St. Clair was clerk. When hark ! as I read, with a heavy head, And closing lids, I heard As in a dream the Court condemn In the name of George the Third ! THE WHIPPING-POST. TO And behold ! there appeared a felon, bared, As a babe at birth, to the waist, Who, with iron bands about his hands, To the whipping- post was braced ! And at his back a man of might, 4 With an Uplifted lash. That, with the word that was spoken and heard, Descend-ed like a flash ! Great God ! to hear the felon s shriek That echoed in the wood ; And to see the gash in the quivering flesh That overflowed with blood 1 Again and again the lash came down, Till the clerk told one and a score Till the shriek decreased until it ceased, And the ba-ck ran red with gore ! When the reeking wretch from the post WiK unbound, And led back to his cell ; His God hence the Devil, the spirit of evil, And his future forever, hell ! When lo ! the guard with another appeared, And bound him to the stake ; And five aod ten lashes and five and ten gashes Another demon make. And still a third at the stake was bared, And the lash came down again ; Till, gashed in gore, a horrid score Have cut out the soul of a man ! The while a throng of old and young Applauded with cheers the toast Hell, after death, is an empty breath, Give us the whipping-post ! Hurrah ! hurrah ! in letters of red, Let it recorded be, This glorious date, October Eight, Of Seventeen, seventy-three ! 76 THE WHIPPING-POST. When lo ! the vision dissolved into haze ! And alone in the forest I stood ; And behold ! the Frost made a whipping-post Of every tree in the wood ! The gum, the maple, and the oak Stood like the felons of old, Until the wood was red with blood And the horrid score was told ! Until the wind, that sighed in the leaves, Sank deep into my soul Like a gasping groan or a stifled moan In a death-delaying dole. When lo ! in letters as red as blood, Appeared, in every tree, The recorded date, October Eight, Of Seventeen, seventy three ! And what tho I woke, from my dream o er the page Of the book that before me lay, October s frost makes a whipping-post Of the forest trees to this day.f * At the particular sessions, at which Brigland, Picket, and Masterson were found guilty and sentenced, Thomas Gest, Esquire, presided, though at the sessions immediately preceding and succeeding William Craw ford, Esquire, sate as the president of the associated jus tices present who composed the court. Thomas Gesfc was a son of "Bold" Christopher Gist, the guide of Washington v. a., pp. 27-30. t Mem. On the 23rd of February, 1775, at Fort Dunmore as Fort Pitt was called by the Virginians one Luke Joliff was tried for deserting from the militia with a stand of arms and preventing the Indians from returning prisoners held by them, found guilty, and sentenced to receive/ive hundred lashes with a cat-o -nine tails on his bare back, well laid on, at such times and in such manner as not to endanger life and member! This is the number lacking one by miscount, which General Daniel Morgan, the celebrated commander of the Rifle men of the Revolution, is said to have received as a mil itary punishment on one occasion. FROM POST TO PILLAR. 1774 FROM POST TO PILLAR. What a sickening, shuddering scene fora town in Pennsylvania! Three miserable human beings, tared to the waist, and -cut with every descending lah to the quivering flesh beneath the ruptured skin, till their blood flowed to the ground, and their cries of agony rent the air throughout the compass of the village! But such scenes were alas ! too common at that early day; and the people were enured to them and in a great degree rendered callous to human woe. On a freezing day in .January, the following year, one William Howard was bared at the post, and received no less than thirty-nine lashes, and then was made to stand one hour in the common pillory from post to pillar, with a vengeance, and all lor iarceny to which he pleaded guilty I Rever ies of a Rambler Jrom Gretnsburg to Hwmastown, in 1874. The official entry of this occurrence, in the Quarter Sessions Docket, of Westmoreland county, for January, 1774, is as follows the earliest record, by the way, of the Pillory as an instrument of punishment in South western Pennsylvania: The King v William Howard Felony (true Bill) Deft, being arraigned pleads Guilty & Submits to the Court. Judgment that the said William Howard be taken to Morrow Morning between the hours of 10<fc 12 in the forenoon to the Public Whipping Post <fe there to receive 39 Lashes on his Bare Back well laid on and then to be taken to the common Pillory and there to stand one Hour that he make Restitution of the Goods stolen & pay a fine of 20 to his Honour the Governor & that he be imprisoned for the space of six Months & that he pay the costs of Prosecution & stand committed until com plied with. " Come one and all ! " the children bawl And put the case in brief " Come to the court and see the sport With Billy Howard, the thief! " 78 FORT DUN MORE. Oh, what a day for Hannastown, Tho the wind blows chilly and raw, Behold the guard with the felon bared For the lashes of the law ! And what a sight for the boys and girls, The lashes well laid on, Till thirty and nine their gashing combine To open the flesh to the bone ! When, from the post to the pillory, The felon, red with gore, Is dragged, amid cheers and ribald jeers, And forced to stand an hour ! Till the blood, that oozes from out the flesh, Freezes, trickling from the wound, Into icicles, that, like tinkling bells, With every shudder resound ! Yea, one and all, come, children, come Come to the village school, Where you must learn to teach in turn Your children how to rule ! Until the wrong shall react in right, And Billy Howard, the thief, Shall have borne not in vain his grief and pain For another felon s relief! 1774 FORT DUNMORE. When Dr. John Connolly took possession of the abandoned Fort Pitt, in 1774, he rechristened it Fort Dunmore, in honor of his friend and patron, the Gov ernor of Virginia, in whose right the territory of South western Pennsylvania was claimed. The name, how ever, never came into general use, even with the Earl and his partisan. It serves, here, notwithstanding, to introduce to the reader two persons who appear quite frequently in the histories of this region, Dr. Connolly and his successor John Neville: men, in the estimation O WICKED DR. CONNOLLY ! 79 of the people, antipodal in their characters; their birth rights to the contrary notwithstanding, the former, a Pennsylvanian, being detested and despised, and the latter, a Virginian, respected and beloved by all. The exploits of the former, as detailed by the Pennsylvania letter-writers of the day, Devereux Smith, .^Eneas Mc Kay, and others, are summed up in the facetious lines that follow the quatrain below, and represent in brief the civil strife between the partisans of the rival states, which, in the greater conflict between the Colonies and the Mother Country beginning in 1775, was suspended for the nonce, and, in effect, forever. The greatest good evolves from greatest evil ; A fellow Grod hath even every Devil ; Fort Dunmore hath its Connolly uncivil, And then the pink of courtesy, John Neville. 1774 o WICKED DR. CONNOLLY: wicked Doctor Connolly ! The de il will never get his due - Until he gets his claws on you, To strip the hide from off your back, And roast you till your inside s black ! You, wicked Doctor Connolly ! How could you ever do so ? Shoot down the people s cows and hogs, And treat the people worse than dogs ; Press horses yea, and meddle with The universal clan of Smith ? You, daring Doctor Connolly ! Where was your boasted chivalry To point your guns at unarmed men ; To curse, across the mountains. Penn, And draw your sword in open day And prick the flesh of Dame McKay ? You, varmint of Virginia ! 8 O 1 WICKED DK. CONNOLLY f How could you ever do so Disturb the peace with midnight scares \ Shoot at the friendly Delawares \ Break into houses, rob, and steal, And put Westmoreland s Court in jail, And liberate her prisoners? Tis well the Revolution Came when it did to check your course r And save your neck if nothing worse To end the war you had in view Between the state that hired you, And your own Pennsylvania 1 wicked Doctor Connolly f The de il will never get his due, Until he gets his claws on you, To strip the hide from off your back, And roast you till your inside s black I You, varmint of Virginia ! * Not to lose sight of the association of South western Pennsylvania with the Colonies, during the Revolution, through the machinations of this very Dr. Connolly, keeping the importance of the post at the head of the Ohio constantly in the mind of the British through the Earl of Dunmore, and of the Americans through Washington and others, the reader will please note the following citation " On the 22d day of November, 1775, Connolly and two of his^associates, were arrested at Frederick town, Mary land. His connection with the British General Gage, and Lord Dunmore, and the whole of his plans for in vading the western frontier with British troops and In dians, and taking possession of Fort Pitt, were fully ex posed. He was, therefore, confined, and subsequently, by order of Congress, for greater security, sent to Phila delphia. His arrest and confinement probably broke up the whole scheme which he had prepared, and in which he was to be the controlling spirit. Con nolly, after the Revolution, resided in Canada; where he enjoyed the confidence and liberality of the Eng lish Government." CKAIG. LOGAN. 81 1771 LOGAN. In the year 1774. the eve of the Revolution, the his tory of Southwestern Pennsylvania presents a tripartite interest which I shall endeavor here to present to the reader. First, the interest attached to the growth of Westmoreland county in its infancy, for the time being, lashed at the whipping-post and stood in the pillory. Second, the conflict between the partisans of Vii-ginia and Pennsylvania, amounting almost to civil war, and concentrating about Fort Dunmore and Doctor Connolly. And third, the Indian war, popularly called Lord Dun- more s war, which affected the frontier generally: the morning thereof being represented in the murder of Bald Eagle and the evening in the celebrated speech of Logan, the Mingo chief, delivered, through Col. John Gibson, to Lord Dunmore, at the close of the war, and here reproduced, with scarcely a transposi tion, in blank verse. After the close of Dunmore s war, Logan so called, after James Logan, a conspicuous man in the province of Pennsylvania in his day became gloomy and mel ancholy, and, resorting to the intoxicating cup, mani fested symptoms of mental derangement. On his way from Detroit to Miami, he was murdered. With regard to the authenticity of the speech, which has been questioned by many, I have nothing to say be yond this that I deem it apossibility ; and that is a fact however improbable, to a poet. Logan himself was a grand fact an Indian never surpassed by any of his nation, for magnanimity in war, and greatness of soul in peace. And the speech in itself is a magnificent fact that has attracted the admiration of several of the most distinguished orators of America, and let that suffice : here it shall. A century has passed ; still, with bowed heads, Attentive ears, and sympathetic.hearts, The murderers of the Mingo chief, in their Descendants, weep for the unhappy man, Who, e er the knife cut out his heart and tongue, Hose, in despair, into the azure of Sublimity, to pass away a name 82 THE DUCKING-STOOL, A name immortal, while the heart of Man, Within the Living, lives again the Dead. To any white man, I appeal If e er He entered Logan s cabin hungry, and He gave not meat to him ; or, if he e er Came cold and naked, and he clothed him not? During the course of the last bloody war, Within his cabin, Logan sate, for peace An advocate. Such was his love for th* whites, His countrymen, when passing, pointing, said, See, Logan is the friend of the white men ! I even had thought to live with you and had, But for the injuries of one white roan. The last spring, Colonel Cressap, in cold blood, And unprovoked, killed all the relatives Of Logan, sparing not my wife and children ! There runs a drop of Logan s blood not in The veins of any other living creature ! This called for vengeance ! I have sought It : I have murdered many : I have glut My vengeance fully ; yet, I now rejoice For Logan s country at the beams of peace. But harbor not the thought that Logan s joy Ts that of fear ; for Logan ne er felt fear : He d turn not on his heel to save his life. For who is there to mourn for Logan ? None ! 1775 THE DUCKING-STOOL. " The ducking-stool for Youghiogheny county was erected at the confluence of the Ohio and the Mononga- hela rivers on February 22nd, 177.V CREIGH. That is, off the Point at Pittsburgh: the Allegheny river, a hundred years ago, being called frequently the Ohio; while the county of Youghiogheny, (one of the three THE DUCKING-STOOL. 83 erected in Southwestern Pennsylvania by Virginia, in the assertion of her claim to this region,) before its ex tinction in October, 1775, embraced the territory now included in the City of Pittsburgh. While the date in timates that an immediate use for the instrument was required for the correction of a common scold no longer to be endured with the usual result, as follows. Kesouse J the ducking stool went down Into the freezing river; But still the scold, though wet and cold, Railed on as fast as ever ! Kesouse ! the stool went down again, Into the slush-ice splashing : But still the hag, with never a gag, Kept up her vile tongue-lashing ! Kesouse I a third time, for the charm, Down to the very bottom ; But worse and worse, the drab to curse Began with a u Dod rot em ! " Kesouse ! Now let the stool stay down, And save us further trouble ! But still her tongue assailed the throng In every rising bubble ! Until the ice of Februeer Closed firm and fast above her, And in her corse, cut cut perforce, None can but death discover ! When hark! upon the cooling-board. The corse began to cough ! And then, her jaw, the first to thaw, Went on where she d left off! The ducking-stool, at once condemned, Was into kindling cut ; And the mouth of the scold of the days of old Has never since been shut. 84 ELIZABETH SMITH. Except beneath the ice of death. To be opened sometime later, When the corpse on the board again is heard In her begotten daughter ! But who was the scold? Ah, hapless wight, No longer worry and bother ; But go to your home and meet your doom She was your dear wife s mother ! 1775 ELIZABETH SMITH. But what were these cases of brutality and misery, to that of Elizabeth Smith, at which, at the mere recol - lection, the blood curdles and the brows contract in bit ter denunciation of the fiendish legal outrage? This pool- woman was an indentured servant to James Kinkaid. She was convicted of larceny, and her judgment was that she receive fifteen lashes on her bare back well laid on, that she pay a fine of fifteen shillings and five- pence, make restitution of the stolen goods, pay the costs of prosecution, and be committed to jail until the penalties are complied with. A woman under the lash ! Think of it, who can, without a boiling of his blood in indignation ? But this is not all. This poor woman was imprisoned for two years, and at the expiration of that period, the court decreed that she should serve her master two years beyond her indenture, to recompense him for the time she had lost in jail ! Nor is this all; for it appears that, at the session of the court which re leased her from the confinement of the jail and resti tuted her to a prolonged bondage under a heartless and mercenary master at this very court, a grand inquest of the body of the county, being called upon to inspect the jail, in which this unhappy woman had been im prisoned for two years, they, under oath, report it " not fit nor sufficient to confine any person in without en dangering the life of any person so confined!" Rut what cared a people, who could endure the whipping at the public post, of a woman, naked to the waist, for her milder suffering however prolonged in a filthy, noisome, pig-sty cell, or under the roof of a bru tal master? Reveries of a ]{tnnb <>r from f. bury to ffannfistown, in 1S71. ELIZABETH S.MIT11. A transcript from the Docket of the Quarter Sessions of Westmoreland county, containing the record of this outrage, is given herewith, ad verbrnn. ad literate OCTOBER SESSIONS, 177- Th e King v Elizabeth Smith Felony (true Bill) Defendant being arraigned pleads Guilty & submits to the Court. Judgment that the said Elizabeth Smith be taken this afternoon (being the eleventh instant between the hours of three & five & there to receive fifteen Laches on her Bare Back well laid on, that she pay a fine of eighteen shillings & five pence to his Honour the Gov ernor that she make restitution of the Goods stolen that she pay the Costs of prosecution -dk stand committed, until compli ed with. At a Private Sessions held at the House of Charles Foreman in the County of Westmoreland on the eleventh day of October Anno Domini one thousand seven hundred & Seventy five before Robert Hanna, William Lochry, James Cavet & Samuel Sloan Esquires Justices of the same Court. Upon the application of James Kinkaid to this Court setting forth that his servant Elizabeth Smith had. been confined in the Gaol for Felony a considerable time rrom his service, whereby he was put to great Charges & expenses and lost the labor and Service of the said Servant for a considerable time And Praying the Court to adjudge the said servant to serve him & his as signs such reasonable time in consideration of the prem ises as to the Court should seem meet. It is considered by the Court and ordered that the said Servant Eliza beth Smith do serve her said Master James Kinkaid arid his assigns for the space & time of two years from and immediately after the expiration of her time by Inden ture, in full satisfaction and recompence of the Charges, expenses and loss of time aforesaid. Westmoreld. County ss. We the Grand Inquest for the Body of this County Being Called upon by the Sheriff of the County To view the Gaol of this County and upon Examination we find 86 AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE. the said Gaol is not sufficient to confine anj r Person in without endangering the life of any Person so confined. Joseph Beelor, foreman. For a thousand }^ears, the crimes of woman Should be forgiven forthwith, To balance the wrong and the treatment inhuman. Meted out to Elizabeth Smith ! 1775 AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE. As soon as the news of the Battle of Lexington reached the head of the Ohio, the civil strife between the partisansof Pennsylvania and Virginia for. the pos session of Southwestern Pennsylvania ceased the peo ple generally joining hands at once in opposition to the Mother Country : in which there is reason to believe an uminosity ingrown with their organisms unconsciously played a stronger part than found expression in their patriotic resolutions; for t* great majority of the popu lation of this county at that time were of Scottish and Irish descent, the subjugation of their respective coun tries accordingly rankling in their blood. At the several meetings, held, on the 16th of May, 1775, at Hannastown and Pittsburgh, the resolutions passed amounted almost to a declaration of independence those passed at the Hannastown meeting, written, doubtless, by Arthur St. Clair, a few years hence to be a Major General in the service of the United Colonies in their assertion, con taining the following remarkable paragraph: St. Clair, be it remembered, being a Scotchman by birth "3d. That should our country be invaded by a for eign enemy, or should troops be sent from Great Britain to enforce the late arbitrary acts of Parliament, we will cheerfully submit to military discipline, and to the ut most of our power resist and oppose them, or either of them, and will coincide with any plan that may be formed for the defence of America in general and Pennsylvania in particular." Of the Virginians who participated in the meeting at Pittsburgh, William Crawford, John Neville, and John Gibson commanded Virginia regiments during the revolutionary war. THE SCALP PREMIUM. 87 Not only rose the Colonies, Then to resist the injuries Unto them in the distance done By the aggressive English throne But Scotland, to avenge her wrong, Done in the past, Lord knows how long, Came to the fore to be redressed, Rejuvenated in the WtstJ And Erin, to return the blow Laid hard upon her long ago, Rose, in the remembrance of the sod, To seek revenge in the wild wood ! For, sow the seeds of good or evil, And, in despite of drouth and weevil, The germs will swell, the sprouts will shoot, And bending boughs will bear the fruit. 1780 THE SCALP PREMIUM. At three several times, the governors of Pennsylva nia offered rewards for the scalps of Indians, men, wo men, and children : in 1756, during the French war, when the Indians generally were allied with the French ; in 1764, before the close of the Indian war, known as Guy- asootha s or Pontiac s war; and in 17SO, during the latter part of the Revolution when the frontier presented al most daily deadly encounters between individuals and armies in their struggle for supremacy in the Little World through which runs the River of Blood with out and within. For, disguise the fact as we may, in our congratulatory grimaces before one another, the idea that has been expressed in our actions toward the aborigines of this continent from first to last has been extirpation. The rates offered, in 1756. were "for the Scalp of every male Indian of above Twelve Years old, one hundred and thirty dollars, and for the Scalp of every Indian Woman, Fifty Dollars," as the Lieutenant Gov ernor of Pennsylvania, the Honorable Robert Hunter Morris, declared, as reported in the Colonial Records, Lor riRT s L A :i F; x r , vol. vii, pages 74-0; in 17(54 " for the Scalp of every Male Indian Enemy above the age of 10 Years produced as evidence of their beiiv^ killed, lot pieces of Eight, and for the Scalp of every female Indian Enemy above the Age of !( Years produced as Kvidence as a- fores... , >( , pieces of Eight," as set forth in the Minutes of the Coun cil, presided over by the Lieutenant Governor, the Hon orable John Penn, and reported in the Colonial Records, vol. ix, pa^e 189; while, in the depreciated currency of the Revolution, the premium offered for an Indian scalp rose to one thousand dollars : as the President of the Council, the Honorable Joseph Reed r stated to Col onel Samuel Hunter in these words "The Council would & do for this Purpose authorize you to offer the following: Premiums for every male Prisoner whether white or Indian if the former is acting with the latter 3oOO Dollars and 1000 for every Inuian scaVp," as printed in ihe Pennsylvania Archives, vol. viii, page 107. For the massacre of the Moravian Indians at Gna- denhiitten by the Whites, under Colonel David Wil liamson in February, 17&2, and the horrible torture at the stake of Colonel William Crawford in June of the same year, let this serve as an introduction. What but a weaker wolf, is he, This skulking 1 savage, unto thee ? Go, tear him in thy .stronger teeth, And live the longer in his death ! Go, crunch him with thy stronger jaw The painted brave and burdened squaw ; Nor spare the board-bound suckling whelp To save perhaps thy future scalp ! <i >, wilder wolf; for, since the light Hath turned to life, Might makes the Right I 1781 LOCHRY S LAMENT. "Fort Pitt, December 3d, 1781. "Sir, I a in sorry to inform your Excellency that this Country has got a severe stroke by the loss of Colonel Lochry and about one hundred (tis said) of the best men of Westmoreland county, including Captain Stockely &. his Company of Rangers. They were going LOCHRY S LAMENT. 89 down the Ohio on General Clarke s Expedition, many uccounts agree that they were all killed or taken at the mouth of the Miame River I believe chiefly killed this misfortune added to the failure of General Clarke s Expedition, has filled the people with great dis- t may many talk of retiring to the East side of the Mountain early in the Spring/ Gen l Wm. Ir vine to the President of the Council. A small stream, called Lochry s creek, eleven miles below the mouth of the Great Miami, perpetuates the memory and locality of this unhappy event in many a household of Westmoreland. Col. Archibald Lochry was the prothonotary and lieutenant of the county, a man of worth and distinction. His command consisted of one hundred and seven men, of whom only one or two escaped with their lives as prisoners from the am bush into which they were led on the 21th of August. The rain of spring in torrents fell, As never it fell before, Till the rill in the wood was a rushing flood With a ceaseless surging roar. While the woman wept in the warmth of woe For one of Lochry s men, Who went with a kiss of protracted bliss And never came again ! Aye, the rain of spring that fell from the skies Was the tears that gushed from the mourner s eyes. The hail of summer beat upon The fields of growing corn, Till all at % noon was lying down That stood up in the morn. While the woman wept in the waste of woe, For one of Lochry s men, Who went to the west with the heart *""* her breast And never came again ! Aye, the hail that fell from the summer skies, Was the tears that congealed in the mourner s eyes. The sleet of autumn in the night Fell on the haunted heath, Till all was cold in wood and wold, And glazed as the eye of Death. fK> LKATITKR BKKK<lli>. While the Woman Wept iu the Want of \V()r. For one of Lochfy s men, \Vho went with iin nath and ;t plighted troth, And never came aL ain ! Ay. tin- Blfel of autumn that fell from the skies Was tin- tears tlrii uh/ d tin- mourner s eyes. Th<j snow of winter, albeit it fell I Yom a loadeo, leaden cloud, A ,,- ln.strously wliit; and feathery light, A soi i and downy shroud. Whilt- tin: woman wcjit in the winter of woe Km- one of Lochry g men, \\ ho went with the life of a woe-wed wife And never calm- ana in ! Ave, the snow of ^winter tliat fell from the >kies Was i he tears that closed the mourner s eyes. LEATHER :rr:tt \VM-; I In- d -st it ut mil n( i-MiulortaMc i lotli- inii, lli;il \vlicii tin- th -t court ol coiiiiiiuii plcii^ was ln-l<l iu Cjittish, now Washington, , in 17^1, j a lii^iily n-spccta- li i- i-iti/. -u, whose pvrx iicc WM^ i-ci|iiin il :is a ninuis- f I aic, c.iitld uol attend court without tirst borrowing a pair of li-atln-r lu ccclics iroiu an cnuully respectable neighbor who wa> sunimoDed on the irrainl jury. The Intter lent them, aDd having no others, iiad to stay at home." AVr. .l<w t ,h ,S,////// (H,l Rrdali-m; p. .H. How happy the judges, when one pair of breeches Sulliceth two lawyers to wear Dividing in twain the risks for lonn; speeches, And doubling the chances for prayer ! 17NJ - / ///; OMINOUS FOX. Trophetic ol I he late of the K \pcililio ii against San- <Ui -uy i in L782, under the command ot t oionel William ] , \ \ BNH1 ri EN, -,{ the dr.. i pfMMinf Judffl >( the ftOttfU o< Westmoreland <v>ii!il\ . as has IMVM noted the . idem a Herts thc mind o\ the reader :il this Uite da\ . possiMy rv en MUMV thilM il (Hit the sol, HITS Who pan uipaled in i! : for while the hitter l>. -hold in H the 1 >oxxi ml it y of defeat . t he tor HUT. apprised of the "A Ttvia! .lu iih nt <v % urnvj liurlui; ll f tnnrcli. NVllii ll lUildc MM UMt. lN tM Mh.V 1 II >( !<->-. I o M UpOU (hi- Illlllili- ol thoM- suporsUltously im-liM.-.l A t.>\, !.\ soinr MI, -ins. uot into tin- li i. s, \\ MS SUITOMM.!* .! l>\ tin- MUM>. hut Mi. iiiM-. il (. osr.ipc UMhiul. MM-. 1 roaviM<-.l th^ <M-i tlu!,>ns in si:-.us an.l .MIKMIS. port-Muls a lailmv tin- \\ h,>l<- army is unal>lc> to U ill a io\ inud-r MU-II rii . \\hal MIC. -ess , -MH i,t- ( -\ivti l jiiijun-xl Ju- Aye, well tin- arni\ may slui.Mi-r in ihv:ui. At llir l)noll s> ,-| !: IM> of (!) IPX .so red ; For wli> will OM-MJU- w\\}\ tlu scalp on liis Sliouhi (lu 1 Ivcd tox suiToini .l the : MALLET or r;.v.i />/-:.v/// r/v.v Kr.-atluM:; tl, spirit of theS.-alp l.au. in l.s. . ,-ui tX- I fiiittiMi. iron) Southwestern Penni^lvwala, under th command of Col, i>a\i,i Wlllianisan, Ml ,m. .si,Mistii\ to break up the villages of HH> hosin,- [ndiaoa on n><- Banduiky; ttutam^orltj ol the lawle^i men from ih.- ivoMtifi- converted erelong UK- little :nn\ into a MM.I of assassins n,,. r.-. or.l oi whose luilrli.-Hrs. siinnn,-,! up in th V:ili< I Of tina.lrnhnlf.Mt. is Hi,- i,,ul, sl |.|,>t upon lh- hloiul.N p:sii of (In- rarly liisiorx o[ llus reglOD lli- tountain-hca,l ol [In- Ki\ ,M ol 1 Uoo.l i n appa II i M;.; iva 1 i 1 \ In Hi, MI- rouisr !a\ th.- \illa;;,-s ,>| th<- Moiavian ,-,MI Vi-rjs to Christ la Mil \ . on the M nsk in mi in. \\ h,T,-. lia\ IVCd uilhoal Oreatittf an alarm. (lir> ,-ni r.-ip,,, ,| ninety-tlx men women, and children into two nouies, ami (l< lil>,-rat,-ly l>ut,-h,-i-, ,l HI,MM as thr\ mi-h( have killr.l a park ol WOlVea in a |.,-n - ,.n<- of tl,<- munlfivrs lakin- up a i-,),i p.M s malh-t ami U n,.,-U In-, llu- In-a.is ol tin- ol.l ami lh<- \ oim-., nn I i 1 h<- ha.i KHI,-,I fourteen \vln-n. his arm tailin- him. lu- liamh-,1 th- deal h to a companion. \\ il h :, \\ord of in lio.l s uaim-. to go and do liU, \\ is,- j 92 MALLET Or GXADENHUTTEX. For further particulars concerning the massacre or rather for an admirable history of the Moravians in Southwestern Pennsylvania their arrival from the Place of Hogs on the upper Allegheny and their sojourn at Friedenstadt, or the Village of Peace, on the Big Bea ver, until their departure for the scene eventually of their slaughter at Gnadenhiitten, I take pleasure in referring the reader to the elegant and accurate little book, entitled Black Robes, of my worthy friend Robert P. Nevin, Esq., of Pittsburgh. The several results of the massacre, alluded to in the last lines of the following poem, are set forth at greater length in succeeding pages. What stains are these on this mallet-head These blacks and browns above blotches of red ? They are the stains of human blood They are the clots of the vital flood That flowed in the hearts of the happy and good, Who fell beneath this weapon of death, The Mallet of Guadenhiitten ! Whose hairs are these of various hue, Entangled and stuck in this ghastly glue ? They are the hairs of the youth and old age The silken suckling the silvered sage And the mothers who knelt in their gory cage In vain beneath this weapon of death, The Mallet of Gnadenhiitten ! Whose bones are these wedged into the wood, Like ivory grains in this ebony blood ? They are of the skulls of those bared to be crushed They are of the skulls of those hid to be hushed Of the many who into eternity rushed, When they fell beneath this weapon of death. The Mallet of Guaddenhiitten ! But what is this this grayish band That girdles the helve for the width of a hand ? OTRTY TO CRAWFORD. 93 It is the stain of the murderer s grip. When, in God s name he cried, with a blasphe mous lip, Let not this blest opportunity slip While I gasp for breath, take this weapon of death, The Mallet of Gnadenhlitten ! And this what is this inburut brand That extends from the poll to the stain of the hand? It is of the fire by the four winds blown, Till the flame-girdled stake ended Crawford s re nown, And the torch turned to ashes and smoke Han- nastown ! Aye, the curse of Cain is in every stain Of the Mallet of Gnadenhiitten ! 1782 SIMON G1RTY TO COL. CRAWFORD AT THE STAKE. The details, in the following poem, of the horrible torture of Colonel William Crawford, are given in the sequence reported by Dr. Knight, an eye-witne.ss, with but few and minor transpositions to lead with greater precision from the beginning to the end horror upon horror s head accumulating unto the last. For the full particulars of the expedition, and the most complete biographies of Crawford aud Girty, the reader is referred to the admirable monograph of Mr. Butterfield. With respect to the tradition, however, which I make use of here, namely, that, the secret of Girty s superintend ence of the torture of his quondam friend, was the re fusal of the hand of his beautiful daughter, Sarah, I may say, that, notwithstanding it appears " silly " to the grave and venerable historian, my honorable friend, Judge Veech, it is neither impossible nor improbable to a ranrtom rhymer, particularly, when vouched for as a verity by a descendant of Crawford, Judge McCor- mick, of Connellsville. 9-4 GIRTY TO CRAWFORD. You say T am accursed. I am accursed. Of all the damned on earth, I am the worst.* And it is well I am, that you receive Your just deserts which only I can give. Compared with me, the Deleware is tame A suckling wolf a savage but in name. The great is grown alone within the great ; A Grirty can alone the White create. f The Deleware had killed you at a blow ; But I despise his mercy and am slow ! Speed seldom makes a single wise reflection, While Haste is ve"ry careless in selection. You are within yourself a brother man. Or good or bad, as but a brother can. But in this pastime you will play the Good, And I the Evil, of the White Man s blood. You, naked as at birth, bound with a thong. Will symbolize the Right enthralled by Wrong. While I, in savage guise, will play my part, The unseen Savage of the White Man s heart. Nay, friend ; your role is easy While I speak. Tis but to writhe in pain about a stake. Your face is blacked, with that of others here, That in your fate your own may now appear. Behold ! the tomahawk sinks in the brain Of all so marked The inference is plain. Nay, shudder not and shriek. All men must die. You are not an exception nor am I. But you, the chieftain of these slaughtered men. Are blessed above them all in knowing when. That in anticipation you may feel, A thousand times, the keen-edged butchering steel. What ! groan beneath the blows, of feeble squaws And feebler children, \\ith their scourge of straws ! GIRTY TO CRAWFORD. 95 It is my care and kindness that the small Be given first that you endure the all ! Besides, these squaws and children will remind You of your wife and children left behind To look for your return to mope and muse And mourn your death with every breath of news. Until, perchance, the midnight axe descend Of widow s wail and orphan s woe, an end ! Until, perchance, the Gnadenhiitten Maul Tires not, till it has crushed the skulls of all. Nay, shudder not and fall upon your knees I ll change the subject, since it doth not please. Behold the stake ! and this rope round the post, To keep you in position while you roast. And these encircling faggots, as you turn, To roast you through and through before you burn. Yea ; Simon Girty has pronounced your doom ; The ashes of this wood shall be your tomb ! Wiu-gay-imud ? Yea; the chief has eat y ur bread Beg him to save your life ? He shakes his head ! Now, while the squaws and children fire the wood? Consider what the PipeJ speaks to his brood. And since the Redman s tongue you cannot hear, And understand, I ll be to you an ear.|| " Upon this man, the chieftain of our foes, Let each and all of us avenge our woes. " For all the wrongs to us the Whites have done, Let now their chieftain in himself atone. " For he is as an army, though but one As to the stars at noonday, is the sun. "All cast in him, by the Great Manito, That we may kill an army at a blow. All cast in him by the Great Spirit of Good, GIRTY TO CRAWFORD. Thai we may drink at once an army s blood [ " That each aud all of us may say, My knife Has taken a great English array s life ! "Behold this unwiped stain upon the blade This Colonel Crawford s ebbing life s blood made T "Then let an army e er invade our land, Alone, each one of us, may make a stand. " For we are each an army in the wood, AY hen we have each drank of an army s blood. Strike, one aud all, then, with the knife-blade s tip, That all alike may in the warm blood dip ! "That all may kill in all not all in one ; And he an army s death die, though alone. " That all may kill in all not all for one ; That he atone for all the Whites have done. " Glut, glut your vengeance, now ! Strike, one aDd ail ! Remember Gnadeohiitten s murderous Maul ! " The White Man s army s in the Redman s gripe Obey the words of the avenging Pipe !" What ! cut and gnashed and slashed from top to toe ! Well, do not moan I said, it would be so. Yea ; I am sure ; for I was filled with fear, Lest, when your ears were off, you might not hear. And now Yea, there is nothing half so good As a live coal for quickly staunching blood. What, groan again ? Why, man, your flesh is hard, And callous to the brand, it is so charred. I doubt if - TOU could feel (Yea, fire !) the wad Of any musket here, at half a rod. ((} on go on go on ! He ll stand a score Of pops like those, and still cry out for more ! ) What, shoot JOU througb tbe heart. I ? Simon Girty ? To think that I could do an act so dirty ! GIRTY TO CRAWFORD. 97 Oh, no ! Besides, you see, I have no gun ; And could not, if I would, stop this rare fun ! But since you beg uie still to take a part, With words, not wads, I ll shoot you through the heart ! Nay, sink not to the ground upon your knees, To raise the ashes but to make you sneeze. And call not on your God to do what I The devil would not do to make you die ! The sky is clear You need not look for rain : And for the thunderbolt, you pray in vain !*[[ Nay, courage, friend ; this fainting is not death ; The gases of the coals but take your breath. (Quick ! *** the scalping -knife, and bare his skull ! Before his chest with the foul gas is full ! ) Why, man, JOU are not dead ! Stand up ! there ! ho ! And walk around your stake there ! steady ! so ! But how you bleed ! (Quick ! with a cap of fire, And clap it on his head, ere he expire ! ) Hurrah ! that jump is worth a thousand groans ! And that sharp shriek a myriad of moans ! But why why do you stand and stare at me, As if you knew me not in mockery ? I m sure. I have not changed from worse to worst, Since we began ; for I set out accursed. But y u are changed 8omewhat y ur features marred A scorched skull staring on a corpse half charred ! Still, you are William Crawford, Esquire, Judge, Or Colonel, as they style you, while you budge. But sink not to the earth again, my friend, Lest to this conference, there be an end. Nay, close your eyes not ! See me kneel again, Before your daughter s feet, and kneel in vain ! Nay, close your ears not ! Hear my vow once more, And her refusal as in days of yore ! #8 GIRTY TO CRAWFORD. Oh, close your eyes not, till you see me spurned 7 And fro-m your cabin like a leper turned ! Oh. close your ears not, till you hear again Your t-urse that maddened then as,now my brain I I loved your daughter Mark ? till I s driven From her frora earth " MA every hope of heaven ! I love your daughter still, though I, accursed, Am, or the fiends of hell, the first and worst ! I love your daughter, Sarah Crawford, still ; And, at her name, my vengeance cannot kill ! Speak ! speak ! Her hand s within your own again 7 For Harrison is numbered with the slain. Speak ! speak [ Her hand ! And you shall live I Speak ! speak ! before it is toa late to give ! To late to Hold ! Save, Girty, save thy breath ; For Crawford s ears are closed for aye in death ! Great God, I corse thee, and thy love I loath, For Thou st denied my prayer and kept my oath ! Thou hast denied my love, and, when too late, Fulfilled my vow of vengeance and of hate ! In this black, ugly thing ! this steaming flesh ! This sickening stench ! thu sm u ^ a s shapeless ash ! This act to live within the brain of Man, Till he hath made an end where he began.** * " No other country or age ever produced, perhaps, so brutal, depraved, and wicked a wretch as Simon Girty . He was sagacious and brave; but his sagacity and bra very only made him a greater monster of cruelty. All of the vices of civilization seemed to centre in him, and by him were ingrafted upon those of the savage state, without the usual redeeming qualities of either. He moved about through the Indian country during the war of the Revolution and the Indian war which fol lowed, a dark whirlwind of fury, desperation, and bar barity. In the refinements of torture inflicted on help less prisoners, as compared with the Indians, he out- Heroded Herod. In treachery, he stood unri valed." BUTTEKFIELD. X5LRTY TO CRAWFORD. t In this crimination of the whites, however, I do not exculpate the Indians. By no means; they were as treacherous, as bloodthirsty, and as unchristian as sav ages could be, cruel, remorseless and brutal; but I dc, mean to say that in a contest that aroused the ugliest passions in the human breast, the race that was the higher could fall the lower; the race that had the greater cunning, -contrivance, skiU, and determination to con quer by fair means or foul made use of its power; the race that in girdling the globe never did and never will hesitate ta trample a weaker beneath the iron heel of its victorious tread, did not balk at slaughtering savages but one remove from wolves. And however correct and just in the main, no man can state that in part nd in particular the White race was not the ultimate of evil and the acme of injustice in its conflict for dominion and existence with the Red. Reveries of a Rambler, in 1874. J "Captain Pipe was, in many respects, a remarka ble savage. * * * AS the army of Crawford approached the Sandusky, nowhere upon tlmt stream was to be found an enemy more determined than he. * * * Upou this Captain Pipe made a speech to the Indians, who, at its conclusion, yelled a hideous and hearty assent to what had been said."" BUTTERFIELIX What he said in this speech, however, has not been reported; and what is given here, is accordingly imaginary, but in accord ance with the Indian s ideas of warfare, as given by Post, McCullough, and James Smith. || An interpreter, in the expressive language of the Indians. \ "Both he [Slover, who with Dr. Knight were the only prisoners who escaped with their lives,] and the Doctor say they were assured by several Indians whom they formerly knew, that not a single soul should in future escape torture, and gave as a reason for this con duct the Moravian affair. Irvine to Washington, Fort Pitt, llth July, 1782. fi " I was tied to the post, as I have already said, and the flame was now kindled. The day was clear, not a cloud to be seen : if there were clouds low in the hori zon, the sides of the house prevented me from seeing them, but I heard no thunder, nor observed any sign of approaching rain. Just as the fire on one pile began to blaze, the wind * * * * blew a hurricane, and the rain followed in less than three minutes. The rain fell violently; and the fire, though it began to blaze con siderably, was instantly extinguished. The rain lasted about a quarter of an hour." Clover s Narrative. Kept 100 SARAH HARRISON. over night, for "a whole day s frolic in roasting him," Slover escaped to tell his tale. ** "Thus ended this disastrous campaign. It was the last one which took place in this section of the country during the war of the revolution. It was un dertaken with the very worst views those of murder and plunder. It was conducted without sufficient means to encounter, with any prospect of success, the large Indian forces upon the plains of Sandusky. There was not that subordination and discipline which is al ways necessary to success ; and it ended in total dis comfiture, and an awful sacrifice of life. Never did any enterprise more signally fail, and never was a deed of blood more terribly revenged, than the murder of the Christian Indians at the Moravian towns." RUPP. - 1782 SARAH HARRISON. " Crawford s children were all married and living in the neighborhood of his home [ on the left bank of the Youghiogheny, i. e. the Ohio-gheny, or the River of Blood, at the lower end of the town of New Haven.] Sara.h, the eldest, was the wife of William Harrison, a man of great spirit and distinction [ killed in the battle which terminated the expedition against Sandusky, commanded by Crawford]. They had six children Sally, Nancy, Harriet, Battell, John, and Polly. Sarah Harrison, the mother, when young was a girl of great beauty. Traditions of her splendid features still linger by the rippling waters of the Youghiogheny. It has often been said, writes a former resident of Fayette county, [Robert A. Sherrard,] that Sally Craw ford, when she married William Harrison, was the most beautiful young lady in all that part of the country. " BUTTERFIELIX How blest was the hour When she entered her bower Her bower of love in the wild, wild wood ; While the beautiful river Rippled on and forever ! But alas ! to deceive her ! With her joy in its flood ! THE HEROINE OF HANNASTOWN. 101 And how bright -Wds the day, ***** When, in battle irraVy- ! Her hero among the first stood : While the mirrority^ fivej" ^, , **, Reflected the quiver Of pride and the fever Of love, in its flood! But black was the night, When a voice in affright Foretold his sad fate, in the wood ; While the sad-sobbing river In vain to relieve her Repeated forever Her wail, in its flood ! And doubly accursed That moment, when burst The storm-cloud above the wild wood ; While the thunder resounded, Witl* her shrieking confounded, And the lightning compounded Her tears and his blood ! When her Heaven of Love Flit far, far above The bower she built in the wild, wild wood, Where the earth hath a river That flows on forever To the Gulf of the Giver The River of Blood ! 1782 THE HEROINE OF HANNASTOWN. On Saturday, at two o clock in the afternoon, July 13th, 1782, the hamlet of Hannastown, consisting of about thirty cabins and houses and ( the fort, or block house, was attacked by a band of Indians and Tories or whites acting with the Indians ("one hundred whites and blacks," writes Michael Huffnagle, and than whom, who has reported aught about the affair that is entitled 102 THE FATE OF MARMIE. tY. rnore creaenc :) aivd. in a short time reduced to ashes every building* being consumed with the excep tion of MiefoA aiid two* iunis-es (writes David Duncan to Mr. Cuwningham,> M > eniberT>f the Council from Lan caster, at that time). The same afternoon, by a detach ment of the band of savages, the .small fort called Mil ler s, about three miles distant toward the south ( on the Miller farm, two miles east of Greensburg, on the Stoys- town pike,) was taken ( Duncan ) and reduced to ashes (Huffnagle). About twenty (says Huffnagle, while Duncan says, upwards of twenty) of the inhabitants of Hannastown and Fort Miller, and the neighborhood surrounding, were killed or taken prisoners, " the most of whom were women and children." And about a a hundred head of cattle, and a number of horses and hogs, were sliot down as they ran to and Iro in the ex citement. Reveries of a Rambler, in 1874. "At the time Hannastown was burned by the In dians, my sister Jane was going to school there, but es caped to the fort with her uncle James Brison. She saw poor tender-hearted Margaret Shaw stoop to pick up the little child that had crept to the hole in the door, and she saw her fall a victim to the noblest impulse in the human heart, by a ball in the breast at the moment she took up the child." Recollections of James B. Oliver, Thy fate, poor Peggy, was the common. Of fond and sympathetic woman : To stoop to save ; to rise distressed, A savage bullet in thy breast ! 1790 7 HE FATE OF MARMIE. On the First day of November, 1790, the first iron furnace, erected in the valley of the Mississippi, of which there is an authentic record, went into blast or was blown-in, to use the language of the ironmaster. This was the Alliance Furnace, of Turnbull & Marmie, situated two and a half miles above the mouth of Jacob s Creek, a confluent of the Youghiogheny, The stack is still standing, but in ruins the most impres sive and picturesque of the ancient structures of South western Pennsylvania, concealed in a forest of seventy- live years growth, and the scene of many a THE FATE OF MARMIE. 103 strange story among the wilds of Barren Run: one of which recounting the fate of Marmie, is given in the following poem. Peter Marrnie (who, with William Turnbull, a wealthy man of Philadelphia, and John Holkar, the French naval agent at that post, composed the firm of Turnbull & Marmie,) was a Frenchman, a high liver, a great hunter, and an enthusiastic and impetuous man in everything in which he engaged. In 1793, the firm dissolving, he was left alone with the works according to the legend, to go on from bad to worse, until, in despair, he terminated his exist ence as recited in the poem. For the facts about this old furnace and the firm with never a word about the fate of Marmie, however, I take pleasure in referring the reader to the recent pub lication of the Secretary of the American Iron and Steel Association, my esteemed friend and coadjutor, James M. Swank, Esq., to wit, his Introduc tion to a History of Ironmaking and Coal Mining in Pennsylvania, published in 1878. Like a grim volcano, stands the Furnace of my rambling rhyme Stands the furnace of the Frenchman, Marmie, of the olden time. Roaring in its glazed boshes With forebodings dire and dread ; Belching flamelit smoke from out the Crater of its tunnel-head ! Till anon the molten metal From the hollow mountain breaks Rushing down into the valley Floods of fire to lava lakes ! When, upon the sloping gang way Leading to the tunnel-head To the grim volcano s crater Belching smoke in black and red ! See ascending, lo ! the Frenchman, Marmie, with his hounds and horn Like a hunter of the wildwood, At the breaking of the morn ! 104 ST. GLAIR, To the quarry of this crater, With a hunter s heated blood, What wild beast that roams the forest, Hath he through the night pursued ? Christ behold I the dogs in couples Doth he in the crater cast, Till alone on the volcano, Hark I he winds a merry blast ! Tirr-ill irr-ill larry o-hee ! Why that gleaming, curling wreath Of the smoke above the crater ? In is Marmie at the death ! In is Marmie, like a hunter, At the death of what wild beast ? What but that pursued at midnight To the quarry in his breast ! Like a grim volcano, stands the Furnace in the darkened dell. Where the ironmaster hunter, Marmie, wound his horn in hell I But the flre no longer rages In the hollow, glazed womb, And the mantling mould of ages Creeps upon the furnace tomb. Silent as the bat- winged cavern, Till the wind sweeps through the dell, When the hunter, on the hillside. Hears the Frenchman s horn in hell ! - 1791 ST. CLA1R. Arthur St. Clair was a Major General in the United States army during the Revolution. After a long life of honor in both military and civil service, in his old age, he was hounded by the humiliations of a nation s curse, and the ingratitude of a republic, till, seeking a refuge ST. CLAIR. 105 from the voice of his fellow-man, he fled to the wilder ness of a mountain-top, where he ended his days in de spair. The event which brought down upon him, and most undeservingly, the odium and maledictions of the people, was the most disastrous defeat of the expedition of 1791, under his command a defeat unparalleled, save by that of Hraddock, for slaughter, and fraught with the most evil of consequences to the United States at that time. On a tributary of the Wabash, in the present state of Ohio, he was met by the Indians, under the leadership of a chief of the Mississago tribe, and routed, with a loss in killed and missing of two-thirds of his army. This damned him through life. Even Washing ton, who had the most unbounded trust and confidence in him as a brave and determined soldier, could not re frain from severe and bitter imprecation. The old man , stung to the heart, secured with the remnant of his shattered fortune, a piece of land on the Chestnut Ridge, above Youngstown, in Westmoreland county, and thith er he fled, and remained till he died a broken hearted man, given to drink in his gloom, but proud and haughty to the last. Toasted at a militia muster as the " Brave but unfortunate St. Clair," he drew his sword in an instant, and would have slain the offender, Find- ley, the first Congressman of Westmoreland, had the words not been retracted: he was not to be compli - mented and commiserated in a breath; not he, indeed, whose achievements in the service of England and America, in peace and in war, were deserving of glory without a compromising stain ! His ashes rest in the cemetery*which bears his name in Greensburg, beneath a sandstone monument, erected, as a bitter taunt there on asserts, "to supply the place of a noble one, due from his country." " As to the case of St. Clair," said Mr. Ogle, of Som erset, in 1817, in the House of Representatives, upon the application of the poor old soldier for a pittance from the government a pittance refused him, until it was too late " that is a subject which ought not to be men tioned in this House in the face of day the treat ment of that man ought to be spoken of here only in the night !-" When the following poem was written in 1874, it was sent to Mr. J. Newton Gotthold, with the following iiote, which, with the poem, the accomplished actor and elocutionist has brought before the public already in his readings on the stage 10G ST. CLATK. I send you a Poem "St. Clair." If there is becom ing body, put your life in it ; if there is comprehending sense T put your soul in it; and as you love Honor and the Pride that guards it as an impulse to the greatest good in man and a tower of strength to the Nation,. make this humble effort a mighty to teach a people, un grateful to itself in its history, to revere instead of ig noring the brave and pi oud old soldier, St. Glair; that honored fathers may then die without dread, lest their skulls, passing from their shoulders to the hands of their children, may not descend still lower to the feet of their children s children and be kicked about as foot-balls for pastime. Alone in the primeval wood, Upon a mountain s ragged crest, The proud and hrave old soldier stood, And watched the sun sink in the west. Before him lay Westmoreland s wealth, Empurpled with the evening s blaze ; Her hills like glowing cheeks of health, Her vales vast depths of ruddy haze. And at his feet a burning stream, The limpid Loyalhunna sped, Reflecting back the fiery gleam, And flaming crimson over head. His brow was black with sullen thought, His eye was fixed and glazed and dim,- Ah, would to G-od they were forgot, The memories that haunted him ! For as the gleaming sun went down, Beneath the flaming crimson sky, A flush commingled with his frown, And fire flashed from his staring eye. The while a shudder seized his heart, And chilled its quivering ebbing flood - He saw another sun depart, Sink in the west in human blood ! ST. CLA1R. 107 He saw another sun St. Clair ! The glory of an ancient name That gleamed, a blazon bright arid fair, In England s firmament of fame ; He saw another sun St. Clair ! The hom.r that had brightly shone, Uudimued in lustre by the glare, When side by side with Washington He saw another sun his own ! Sink in the west in human gore. In woe and misery go down, To rise again, ah, nevermore I Accursed the day when Victory Assumed the red Miami s plume, And hurled his tomahawk on high, Exultant over St. Glair s doom ! When Vengeance knew but savage bound, And Carnage glut its soul with blood ; Till, springing from each gaping wound. The Wabash ran a reddened flood ! When following in Defeat s red path, Stalked Infamy with flaming breath, To fire a nation s eager wrath, And damn St. Clair to all save death ! Accursed this day, November Four, Returning as in Ninety-one, When western skies are red with gore, And sets in blood a double sun ! The old man closed his staring eye, To hide the scene, but all in vain The vision was not in the sky, But seared within his troubled brain. The gloaming came ; a panther s scream Rang from the oak above his head ; He looked again the sun s last beam Athwart the crimson heavens suread. 108 ST. CLA.IR. A deathwhoop echoes in the cry ; A knife gleams in the flashing ray ; A bleeding scalp is in the sky ; The Night has slain the pale-face Day ! Ah, woe the man, whose history Reveals to him both sound and sight ; Whose glory s in a bloody sky, Whose doom is in the blackest night ! The darkness came ; the panther s scream Again rang through the lonely wood , The old man startled in his dream, And trembled in his sullen mood. He startled not at the dread beast Heard in the wild affrighted air, But at the brute within his breast, That Fate had chained and kenneled there A hound, with fang-envenomed jaw, Sired by an ingrate nation s curse A hound, with an insatiate maw, Engorged by pride, its dam and nurse - A hound that barked with human tongue, In taunt or toast, in praise or blame A hound that bit in old and young, In ban or blessing, fume or fame A hound that in the panther s cry, So like the human voice of pain. Pierced through his ear, an agony That rent his very soul in twain ! The old man sank upon the ground, In abject anguish and despair ; The wilderness he peopled found The wail of woe his curse ! was there ! Nor ever rose, save in the night, To grope for an unhallowed cell, Where, from the voice of man he might A refuse find in heaven or hell ! ST. GLAIR. 109 God help the man of evil dole, By ^uilt, or pride brought to despair. Till mem ry s mad-dog gnaws his soul God help the brave but proud St. Clair!* : - So much for fiction, in comparison with the fact, to ftink into commonplace, mayhap contempt. Since wri ting the poem, in which the fate of St, Glair is represent ed in images and symbols, I have learned that a real damnation for the present and future pursued him up on the mountain s crest, in contemplation of which the man is without feeling who does not shudder. The wife of St. CM air, in her old age, became insane, and wan dered about on the mountain a jabbering maniac, now bedecking herself with ferns and flowers, and anon shrieking in affright in a clump of laurel whither she had fled to escape a terror of her diseased imagination. His children more or less partook of the mental de rangement of their mother one, a son named Mur ray, a wretch so perverted in his humanity as to whip with a harness trace his aged father when he would come home from the tavern, at the foot of the mountain, drunk and unruly ! Now, in a wife to a husband, the one-half of mankind is represented as the present; while in his descendants, humanity as a whole, the future forever. In this light, instead of the scream of the imaginary panther, hear the shriek of his crazy wife ringing forever in the ears of the distracted old man ; and instead of the symbolic hound, Sired by an ingrate nation s curse, see his own son, with the leather trace uplifted above his head, pursue the hoary -headed hero from tree to tree until the lash descends, and the doubly-damned old man sinks to the earth to rise no more! I doubt if history furnishes a more appalling illustration of the ingratitude of a republic than that which was embod ied in his wife and son to St. Clair in his old age. In comparison, the fate of Belisarius, celebrated for centuries, is tame. In the Appendix to this volume, the curious reader will find the old ballad of St. Clair s Defeat which is sung occasionally at this day. Three quarters of a century ago it was very popular with the wandering minstrels of the Little World, the blind old fiddlers who appeared at the militia musters, the fairs, the raisings, and upon election days. Also, several poems, besides, pertaining to this memorable man and his misfortunes. 110 THE HAUNTED MAN. THE HAUNTED MA\. Reference has been made in this work to the several forts constructed in the crutch lormed bj the Allegheny and Monongahela rivers at their continence, namely, the fort, in process of const! uction, surrendered by En sign Ward to Contrecceur ; Fort Duquesne, built by the French and blown up upon the approach of Forbes; Fort Pitt, abandoned by order of General Gage in ITTli ; and Fort Dunmore, the last mentioned, re-christened by Dr. Connolly and occupied first by troops irom Vir ginia and afterward by soldiers of the Revolution. There remains another to be noted, Fort La F alette, constructed in 179^ and in connection therewith a word about The Haunted Man. While the army of General Wayne was rendezvous ing at the place and time lust mentioned, desertions were very frequent, calling loudly for the execution of the orders of .Mad Anthony for their prevention. Now, among the deserters was an orderly sergeant, named Trotter, who, in the neighborhood of Hanna stovvn, was captured by three men, Col. Robert Hunter, Capt. Wil liam Elliott, and John Horrell, and remanded to the iort. He was sentenced to be shot, and, in despite of the most earnest eilbrts made for a mitigation or a sus pension of his sentence he being agreat favorite in the army, standing high in the estimation of Wayne, and proving conclusively that he was on his way back to the fort when he was taken as a deserter he was executed accordingly. Before the command to tire was given, how ever, the condemned man imprecated vengeance from the Almighty upon the heads of his captors, reading the terrible maledictions contained in the one hundred and ninth psalm to begin with, and concluding with a spe cific curse for each variously given by various legends, but in all cases fulfilled to the letter. In the following poem, I give the most familiar of the stories told of Col onel Hunter, who, of the three, was the most notorious in Southwestern Pennsylvania, his fate a terror to the betrayer in many a thrilling and mysterious fireside tale. He died of diabetes in an extraordinary form of course, in accordance with his curse, that his thirst might never be quenched. And that he livert, from the execution of Trotter to the day of his death, a miserable life, is not to be wondered at : for, bearing in his strange and Inexplicable disease for many years the brand of THE HAUNTED MAN. Ill liis condemnation to the torments of hell before death, he v^as spurned by his fellowrnan without in proportion as he suffered from his disease within. He died in Bairdstovvn, Westmoreland county, within the recollec tion of many persons still living who knew him well. The dog at his heels continually is a. curious form of a pursuing Nemesis, to say the least of it. John Horrell resided in Loyalhanna township, Westmoreland county. And that he was possessed with tormenting- devils, is a matter of record in the courts his last will and testament having been contested on the grounds of insanity. According to the .legends in vogue among the people, his delusion was distracting to him at times. At midnight, as certainly as midnight came, he seemed to be or he was thrown out of bed, and held, on his back upon the floor, for a certain time, the while the devil looked over the headboard of the bed at him, his eyes like live coals in the wind, and his teeth in his open jaws like the tines of a harrow ! At length he was thrown from a horse and killed, his horse taking fright at the devil who appeared in the form of a white goose that flew across the road, fanning with its wings the fumes of sulphur in the distended nostrils of the animal! This goose was the familiar fiend that haunted Horrell. Capt. William Elliot resided for a long time in New Alexandria, Westmoreland county; removing thence to Butler county, he died haunted to the last in vari ous ways. As he was given to drink, it may be pre sumed that his delusions were those of delirium tre- mens; for, as I am informed, by the venerable Major Cooper of Saltsburg, (who was an acquaintance of the three haunted men,) he was tormented by the devil gen erally upon the heels of a spree the fiend taking the shape of a dog that invariably jumped through the window at his victim! The variations of this fulfilment of the curse of Ser geant Trotter, like that of Evans, who was executed for murder in Qreensburg, half a century ago, declaring his innocence to the last, and imprecating curses upon those who had perjured ihemselves to bring him to the gallows, would fill a volume. Go where he would, by field or flood, Or through the glade and glen, O er moss and moor and sandy shore, And then aback again, 112 THE HAUNTED MAN 7 . Still did he find the dog behind, As when the chase began ; For beyond the curse of the sacred verse , He w t is a haunted man ! t- Ho ! ho ! my pet, I ll tire you yet I ll mount my horse and ride ! " So through the wood he rode and he rode T Till the horse fell down and died. Still did he find the dog behind, As when the chase began ; For beyond the curse of the sacred verse, He was a haunted man 1 Ho! ho! my whelp, I ll singe your scalp, If your legs I cannot tire ; " So home he went with a fell intent, And stood before the fire. .Still did he find the dog behind, Within the frying pan ; For beyond the curse of the sacred verse, He was a haunted man ! Then out he went to the churchdoor bent, And before the altar fell, ; Here you re afraid to come," he said You are a hound of hell ! " Still did he find the dog behind. Ere he to pray began ; For beyond the curse of the sacred verse, He was a haunted man ! Then up he gat and shuddered at His doom before his death ; For with a thirst he was accursed That fired his coolest breath ! And he knew full well he was in hell Beneath an awful ban For beyond the curse of the sacred verse, He was a haunted man ! TOM THE TINKER S TIME. 113 He filled his cup, and turned it up A thousand times a day ; Still with a thirst he was accursed, That burnt his throat away ; While at his side the dog he spied, As when his thirst began ; For beyond the curse of the sacred verse, He was a haunted man ! Great God ! to hear him curse and swear, And see his vitals wrung, When the water boiled and the hard ice broiled Upon his red-hot tongue ! While the devil s yelp was in the whelp, That followed when he ran ; For beyond the curse of the sacred verse, He was a haunted man ! He was, I ween, a haunted man, A being doubly cursed, Without the de il s dog at his heels, Within, eternal thirst ! Woe ! woe the dole of the sinful soul, Within a life s short span ; For beyond the curse of the sacred verse, Is the Hell of the Haunted Man ! 1794 A TALE OF TOM THE TINKER S TIME. The following paragraphs have been extracted from the sketch of the Whisky Insurrection collated from various sources in Day s Historical Collections noting, in advance, that this insurrection was the first rebel lious outbreak against the laws of the United States, and that it served to associate Southwestern Pennsylvania with Washington, now President, who had, in the service of Governor Dinwiddie of Virginia, appeared in a public capacity first in this region in early manhood. 714 TOM THE TINKER^ TIME. The province of Pennsylvania, as early as 1756, had looked to the excise on ardent spirits for the means of sustaining its hills of credit. The original law, passed 1 ro continue only ten years, was from time to time con tinued, ns necessities pressed upon the treasury. Dur ing the revolution, the law was generally evaded 1 , in the west, by considering all spirits as for domestic use, such being excepted from excise; but when the debts of the revolution began to press upon the states, they became- more vigilant in the enforcement of the law. Opposi tion arose at once in the western counties. Liberty- poles were erected, and people, assembled in arms r chased off the officers appointed to enforce the law r tarred and feathered some of them, singed their wigs, cut off the tails of their horses, put coals in their boots, and compelled others to resign. Their object was to compel a repeal of the law, but they had not the least idea of subverting the government. The pioneers of this region, descended as they were from the people of North Britain and Ireland, had come very honestly by their love of whisky ; and many had brought their hatred of an exciseman directly from the old country. The western insurgents followed, as they supposed, the recent example of the American revolu tion. The first attempt of the British parliament the very cause of the revolution had been an excise law. There was nothing at that day disreputable in either drinking or making whisky. No temperance societies then existed: to drink whisky was as common and honorable as to eat bread ; and the fame of "Old Mo- nontrahela " was proverbial, both at the east and the west. Distilling was then esteemed as moral and re spectable as any other business. It was early com- iiH iiced, and extensively carried on, in Western Penn sylvania. There was neither home nor foreign market for rye. their principal crop; the grain would not bear packing across the mountains. A horse couldcarry but four bushels ; but he could take the product of 24 bush els in the shape of alcohol. Whisky, therefore, was the most important item of remittance, to pay for their salt, sugar, and iron. "The people had cultivated their land, for years, at the peril of their lives, with little or no protection from the federal government; and when, by extraordinary efforts, they were enabled to raise a little more grain than their immediate wants required, they were met with a law restraining them in the liberty of doing what they pleased with the surplus. The people of Western Pennsylvania, therefore, regarded a tax on whisky in the same light as the citizens of Ohio would TOM THE TINKER S TIME. 115 HOW regard a United States tax on lard, pork, or flour." It should be remembered also in this connection, that the new federal government was but recently or ganized; its powers were but little understood in the west; and the people of that section generally, for the previous twenty years, had been much more in the habit of opposing a foreign government, than of sus taining one of their own. The state excise law, after remaining for years n dead letter, was repealed, a circumstance not likely to incline the people to submit to a similar law passed by Congress on the 3d March, 1791, at the suggestion of Gen. Hamilton, secretary of the treasury. This law laid an excise of four-pence per gallon on all distilled spirits, The members from Western Pennsylvania, Smiley of Fayette, and Findley of Westmoreland, stoutly opposed the passage of the law, and on their return among their constituents loudly and openly disapproved of it. Al bert Gallatin, then residing in Fayette county, also op posed the law by all constitutional methods. It was with some difficulty that any one could be found to accept the office of inspector in the western district on account, of its unpopularity. In this inflammatory state of the public mind, all that was necessary to kindle a blaze, was to apply the torch. * * * A term had come into popular use to designate the opposition to the excise law; it WHS that of Tom the Tinker, It was not given by adversaries as a term ol re proach, but assumed by the insurgents in disguise at an early period. "A certain John Holcroft," says Mr. Brackenridge, " was thought to have made the first ap plication of it at the attack on William Cough ran, whose still was cut to pieces. This was humorously called mending his still. The menders of course must be tinkers, and the name collectively became Tom the Tinker." Advertisements were put up on trees, and other conspicuous places, with the signature of Tom the Tinker, threatening individuals, admonishing, or com manding them. Menacing letters with the same signa ture were sent to the Pittsburgh Gazette, with orders to publish them and the editor did not dare to refuse. " At Braddock s field the acclamation was, Hurrah for Tom the Tinker ! Are you a Tom Tinker s man ? Every man was willing to be thought so, and some had great trouble to wipe off imputations to the contrary." Mr. Findley says, "it afterward appeared that the letters did not originate with Holcroft, though the inventor 01 them has never been discovered." * * * 116 TOM THE TINKER S TIME. To suppress the insurrection, President Washington called out the militia from Pennsylvania, Maryland, New Jersey, and Virginia, to the number of fifteen thou sand. Gov. Lee, of Virginia, was cqmrrTider-in-chief. Gov. Mifflin, in person, commanded the Pennsylvania troops. The insurgents were overawed by this force, even before it reached the seat of insurrection, and cheerfully accepted of the amnesty which was pro claimed. A few leaders were arrested, sent to Phil adelphia, and tried in the U. S. Court. Two only were convicted, and these were afterward pardoned. The ex cise officers resumed their duties without opposition. Come, lithe and listen, gentlemen And ladies, while in rhjme, A tale I tell of what befell In Tom the Tinker s time. It fell within the month of June, In the year of Ninety-four, The country folk uprising broke Into a wild uproar. And of all the insurrectionists The greatest hereabout As all agreed to be his meed Was Ebenezer Stout. For why ? God wot, he kicked the beam At twenty stone and odd ; And for every pound of flesh he had ground An acre and a rod. And thirteen children had he born Unto his wedded spouse, Six gushing girls with golden curls, And seven sturdy boys. And of all the girls with golden curls, Fair Peggy, in her smock, And with nothing more of her father s store, Was the pick of all the flock. TOM THE TINKER S TIME. 117 The bursting bud of the red, rt d rose Is as fair as flower may be ; But the flitting flush of Peggy s blush Was a fairer sight to see. And oh, the goodness of her heart. What tongue of man can tell ; For she lived to prove that truth and love On earth as in heaven may dwell. And many a gallant suitor came With a fond and hopeful air ; And as many went, with their time misspent, In darkness and despair. For well-a-day, a neighbor lad, Of worth, and manly mien, Had filled her eye with phantasy That none else could be seen. It fell upon a summer day, While cowering in the fern Of the shady nook in the bend of the brook, Him bathing she did discern. The while he stood upon the bank To doff and don his clothes, Her eyes of blue gleamed like the dew Upon a smothered rose ! And oh, her heart high in her Irtilse, Went with the clap of a mill ; Albeit her breath in the arms of death Could not have been more still ! secret sight unto a maid Of a mother-naked man, Forget it ever will she ? Never, Do what she may or can. So Peggy, syne, ne er dreamed of man, As modest maidens may, But his were the charms of the lily-white arms, She beheld that summer day. 118 TOM THE TINKER S TIME. John Berkley hight, a sober lad Whose words were in his work With a steady pace and an even trace, Withouten halt or jerk. The while the country lads about, With braggart din and noise. Paraded here and mustered there, As Tom the Tinker s boys. John kept in the field with his scythe and plough, From early morn till night, With barely a look at the mustering folk When they appeared in sight. And oh, to hear afar afield His merry voice in tune, Was a song more dear to Peggy s ear Than all the birds of June ! And oh, to wear in her golden hair The flower his love expressed, Was to be in heaven with her sins forgiven Among the ever blest ! But modest worth to make or mar, When neighbors neighbors scan, Is a shining mark when all is dark, E en in the humblest man. Erelong the neighbors one and all, In honest Berkley saw The only wight who would not tight Against the Excise Law Of laws accursed the very worst That ever was made or will, Since a tax it laid on the whiskey made, By rating the farmer s still. The still, forsooth, by means of which The farmer packed his grain, Over mountains and hills, four hundred miles. To the marts upon the main. TOM THE TINKER S TIME. 119 The still, God wot, that sometime bought The acre and the rod Of goodly ground to match each pound Of the twenty stone and odd Of Ebenezer Stout the sire Of Peggy, the loving and loved, And the neighbor ot John who frowned most upon The worth which his heart approved. U 0ut on the loon ! " quo the farmer, Stout, With many a wicked curse ; "Than his wife to be, I d rather see My Peggy a corse or worse I " Oh, never a word fair Peggy heard That sank her in such sorrow ; The rose of to-day faded fast and away To the lily of to-morrow. Meantime, there sat in her father s hall. A suitor for her hand, Who marched to Tom the Tinker s drum, The captain of a band. And when he saw fair Peggy s tears, With jealous hatred fired, To vent his spite and show his might, With her father he conspired To summon Tom the Tinker s men, To meet in mask in the lane, To brand with shame, the noble name Of the law-abiding man. The law-abiding man ! God wot, A stern rebuke to all Most eager to shirk their daily work At Tom the Tinker s call ! The law-abiding man ! Aye, aye, And if a saint as well, Unto the worst of the vile accursed, The embodiment of hell ! 120 TOM THE TINKER S TIME. The law-abiding man ! Yea, yea, And if a Christ he be, For what is he born but a crown of thorn, A spike, and the gallows-tree ! u What ho ! without ! " cried honest John, At midnight, to the throng That gathered before his cabin door In mask to do him wrong. " Your kine have jumped your neighbor s fence/ 7 The captain spake and again ; " Come out, belyve, and I ll help you drive Them into your own pen." But when the honest man appeared, Behold a ruffian band Of men and boys with deaffening noise Appeared on every hand ! And when the captain spake the word, They seized their wondering prey, And, with jibes and jeers and ringing cheers, Bore him by force away. And when they reached a chosen spot. They stripped him to the skin, And with tar besmeared his hair and beard, And his body from feet to chin. Then, ripping up a feather-bed, They thrust him in the tick That he might fly as high as the sky, With the feathers that might stick ! Then, taking up a ragged rail, They bound him fast astride Ere he learned to fly as high as the sky, To teach him how to ride. Then, oho ! aha ! with a clash of arms, And many a ribald shout, They bore their bird into the yard Of Ebenezer Stout ! TOM THE TINKER S TIME. 121 And loft him perched upon the rail In helpless misery In the light of the moon, that night of June, Beneath fair Peggy s eye ! "Rise, father, rise! a wretched wight Ts lying at the door ! " But never a word her father heard, For his redoubled snore. u Rise, brothers, rise ! a wretched wight Is moaning in the yard ! " But as clods of clay, her brothers lay And never heard a word. t; Rise, sisters, rise ! in pity rise ! Oh ! hear you not my call ! " And into their ears fell Peggy s tears, But they lay as deaf as the wall. "Rise, mother, rise! in mercy rise! Mother of Christ forbid That I in vain should call again ! " But thrice and again she did. marveling, mournful, musing maid, With the world turned upside down, When the hearts of mother and sister and brother And father are hardened to stone ! With a feeble, faltering, trembling step, Poor Peggy crossed the floor, And with parting teeth and indrawn breath, Unbarred the oaken door. Then with hlr eyes to heaven turned, Syne to the moonlit ground, She came upon the wretch unknown Unto the rail fast bound. And, with her fingers fair and soft, The knots were soon undone ; When a single word half uttered but heard Revealed unto her, John ! 122 TOM THE TINKER S TIME. mournful sight unto the maid In the maddening light of the moon ! These these the charms of her lover r s arm& In the rosy month of June ! These these the charms of her lover s arms- Seen in her dreams afar, Within her grasp and midnight clasp, A filth of feathers and tar ! With a sad, shrill shriek, poor Peggy raised The sleepers fast abed, To find her alone in a dt aih-like swoon, And her wretched lover fled. And many a fair day came and went, Ere Peggy showed her face To father or mother, or sister, or brother, But in some secret place. Perchance above in the gabled loft, Or below in the alder shade, Or afar in the nook in the bend of the brook, A melancholy maid. And many a fair day came and went, Ere John again was seen ; Till at length with a hoe in a weedy row, He appeared as he ever had been At work and alone, forby the sound Of Tom the Tinker s drum, His crown to wear and his cross to bear, Until the end has come. When lo ! there came from far andmear A throng to view the wight, Whose honest name was alone to blame For the work of hate and spite. fore and after sight of man ! Night turning into day, And black to white and wrong to right, The prowler to the prey ! TOM THE TINKER S TIME. 123 But never a word but yea or nay, To young or old, John said, As he worked away from day to day With a heavy, humbled head. Until the captain of the band Came strutting up the road, And spake of tar as munitions of war, And feathers to staunch the blood. When, with a blazing, bursting eye, John raised his head and hoe. And while with ire his blood was afire He struck a hasty blow. A hasty blow that cleft the skull Of the captain to -the brain, And left the good man foul with blood As if Abel had murdered Cain ! O horror of hell to the guilty wretch Whose hand with blood is red ! Fiends in the air here everywhere Point to him from the dead ! In vain he flees to the darkest dell, Or hides in the deepest cave, The fiends appear still in the air Before him and a grave ! With this dread sight before his eyes, John fled into the wood To the shady nook in the bend of the brook, W T here naked he had stood. When lo ! fair Peggy uprose from the fern, And called him thrice and again ; But never a word that Berkley heard So rent his soul in ^wain. For with her voice the fiends in the air Called each and every one, Till the darkened dell was an echoing hell Of a thunder-pealing John ! 124 TOM THE TINKER S TIME. Into the swirling of the stream, He sprang with might and main ; And long in the brook will Peggy look Ere she see her lover again ! Yet, with hair unkempt and tattered gown, She ran along the stream, In vain to recover the drowning lover Of a distracting dream. Sometime she saw a lifted hand, Anon a face in the foam ; Sometime she heard a parting word In a bubble, syne a Come ! Until, unto the gathering throng Which the murderer persued, The maiden came withouten shame, As a new-born baby nude. "Come, father, come ! a drowning man Is reaching for relief ! Oh, never a word her father heard, So cast him into grief. "Come, brothers, come! a drowning man Uplifts his hand for aid ! " Oh, never a word her brothers heard, Their heads so heavy made. " Come, sisters, come ! my dearest love Is sinking thrice and again ! " Oh, never a word her sisters heard Their hearts so pierced with pain. " Come, mother, come ! and make my bed Upon the floating foam ; For here the bride I must abide The coming of the groom ! "See, here he comes in the white, white toam But he is whiter far But now, alack ! he is foul and black A filth of feathers and tar !" TOM THE TINKER\S TIME. 125 Oh, sadly, sadly rang the voice Of Peggy day and ni.^ht, With the shifting scene of what hath been Forever in her sight. The while the farmer s house and lands From taut to tattered passed The fields unuiown, the fences down, His wealth a common waste. For away at Tom the Tinker s call Were the sturdy boys in arms ; And away were the girls with the golden curls In the public mart with their charms. All gone, all gone, save Peggy alone, With her father and her mother ; Her pitiful prayer ever in the ear Of one or of the other. Until, behold, an army came The excise to maintain, And camped before the farmer s door, Full fifteen thousand men. And never a grain in the farmer s bin, But went the army to feed ; And never a stake that would rive or break, But burned to bake the bread. Until the insurrectionists, Without or flag or head, In broken bands with empty hands In wild disorder fled. The leader of the throng, a myth, A name and nothing more, That, with feathers and tar, fought the Whiskey War, Of Seventeen-Ninety-four ! When, the battle won without firing a gun, The army marched again, Back, over the miles of mountain and hills Full fifteen thousand men. 120 TOM THE TINKER S TIME. And in the van, behind a cart. With a rope his neck about, High handed to be to the traitor s tree. Marched Ebenezer Stout ! Oh, weary, weary was the way Behind the culprit cart ; But never the weight of his flesh was ;is "-resit. As the heaviness of his heart. And dreary, dreary were the walls Of the prison where he lay Until released, but forever disgraced, A year hence and a day. And weary, weary was the walk Of the farmer, sick and sore, Over mountains and hills, four hundred miles, Back to his homestead door. And oh, the anguish of his heart. When, turning into the yard. Poor Peggy s appeal without avail. Kepeated thrice, he heard. "Come, father, come! a wretched wight Is drowning in the stream ! " Oh, when will Death cut short her bre;tth. And end her awful dream ! "Nay, nay, old man ! hold off your hand ! My father was fat and fair ; The biggest man in all the land ; And coal-black was his hair ! " Out, out, you loon ! my father has gone Away in the army s van, High hanged to be to the traitor s tree, A Tom-the-Tinker s man ! " Nay, nay, old man thy beard is white, But my love is whiter far But now, alack, he is foul and black, A filth of feathers and tar !" THE SPECTRE SHIP. 127 Oh, may this fair land of the West, See never, never more, The woe and grief without relief Of Seventeen- Ninety-four ! When Tom the Tinker ruled supreme, And wrought the Whiskey War The mask and the might of hatred and spite To befoul with feathers and tar ! 1798 THE SPECTRE SHIP OF PORT PITT. One of the most curious pages in the history of Southwestern Pennsylvania is that which relates to the construction at Pittsburgh and Elizabethtown of ocean vessels galleys, schooners and brigs, of from two to six hundred tons burthen more than two thousand miles from the sea. This industry was inaugurated by The government in the year 179S, by the construction of two armed galleys, in order to put the valley of the Ohio in a state of defence, in anticipation of war with France and an exposure to the enemy of the western frontier through the channel of the Mississippi. Afterward it was continued until perhaps a score of ocean vessels were built in these inland ports the scraggy processes of the backbone of the continent being seen from the mast heads in either! However foreign, accordingly, at first sight, the language of the sea may be to the legenary his tory of Southwestern Pennsylvania, the reader must ac knowledge now that it is legitimate. It was when the grandsire, that totters to-day Adown the hill to the tomb, Was but a thought by phantasy wrought In a musing maiden s womb. The keel of a stately ship was laid In the Port of Pitt, in glee In the ebbing flood of the River of Blood, Two thousand miles from the sea ! 1 28 THE SPECTRE SHIF. The keel of a stately ship was laid, With the caul* of a babe inwrought, That never beneath the wave of Death, Should the ship and her crew be brought I With a ho f heave-O ! and a hearty heave-O! The caul in the keel was cast r To bind forever on ocean and river The Future with the Past. But alack the day r the fatal caul Was forgotten with its mirth ; The ship was wrought like a babe begot And doomed for aye at birth ! Aye, the ship was wrought like a babe begot, And doomed at birth for aye, On the ebbing flood of the River of Blood To sail to the sea and alway ! And now, at length, the ship was built, And cleared as the papers were writ, Among the hills, two thousand miles From the sea, in the Port of Pitt. With a ho ! heave-O ! and a hearty heave-O ! That echoed from shore to shore ; While the guns of the Fort that guarded the Port Commingled their thundering roar ! With a cargo of whisky and flour and furs. And a crew of brave men all, The ship clove the wave, as if scoffing the grave In the doom of her keel-wrought caul. And adown the flood of the River of Blood, She rode to the salt, salt sea, Where, spreading her sail to the sou -west gale, She sped in pride and glee. Like the fairy boat of a feather afloat In a basin, before the breath, Of a darling boy in the arms of Joy, Between the child and Death ! THE SPECTRE SHIP. 129 Like the fairy boat of a feather afloat, She sped in glee and pride,. Till behold ! in the morn, in the Port of Leghorn, She rode on the glittering tide ! With ;i ho ! heave-0 ! and a hearty heave-0 ! The anchor was cast in sport ; When the captain and mate in formal state Sought the Master of the Port The right to claim, in their country s name, To trade in the Port of Leghorn, The store of goods which over the floods The fated ship had borne. But when the Master their papers read, Sorely puzzled was his wit ; For never before in a life of three score Had he heard of the Port of Pitt ! When, turning around, he stamped the ground, And swore a fearful oath, That the captain and mate were his pris ners of state, And that he would hang them both That he would hang them as pirates both ; For never did tongue before tell Of the Port of Pitt, save in Holy Writ, Where it spake of the Pit of Hell ! Bur never a word spake the captain and mate, As if they were afeared, While they spread on the lap of the Master a map Of the port whence they had cleared. Two thousand miles from the sea and more, The Master followed the course Of the ebbing flood of the River of Blood Till he came to its forked source. And never a word spake the captain and mate, Till the Master read twice and again, These words quaintly writ, " The Port of Pitt. The site of the French fort, Duquesne ! " 13(7 THE SPECTRE SHIP, When up spake the captain and up spake the mate,. " Now hang us, if you please ; But remember, the Port, that supplanted the Fort, Will revenge us over the seas ? " u But for this map, * the Master said, And its memory of Duquesne, I had hung you both ; | and he called with an oath, For a basket of champagne. And the wine went around and around again, With the sallies of their wit ; While the Master poured and with laughter roared, As he drank to the Port of Pitt I Till, half seas over, the captain and mate, Bade the jolly old Master adieu, And tacked their way to the landing quay But their ship was not in view t They looked north, south, east and west ; But the ship and her crew were gone ! Till the captain and mate were sobered straight, And stood as if turned to stone ! When back to the Master they sped in haste, Their piteous tale to tell, That liefer had they been hanged that day Than have met what them befell. k- Then hanged shall ye be," the Master swore, . To the memory of Duquesne, And the scurvy trick which ye learned of Old Nick To cheat me of my champagne ! " And hang them he did as pirates and fools, With less discretion than wit, To leave their gold in the vessel s hold, To be spent by the crew of Port Pitt. While out to sea sped the gallant ship, With the caul of the living cast In her keel beneath, and the black flag of death Nailed fast to her mizen mast ! THE SPECTRE SHIP. 131 While a murderous crew of mutineers With swords fought hand to hand, Till the deck was red with the hot blood shed For the gallant ship s command Till the deck was red with the hot blood shed. From many a gaping wound, And never a wight to stand upright On the bloody deck was found. Save one alone, the boatswain, by chance With both legs cut amain, Who stood and fast with his back to a mast, And defied the crew thrice and again. When with one accord, to the boatswain was given The gallant ship s command, To spare no prize in the sea-rover s eyes On the salt, salt sea or the land. W r ith a ho ! heave-0 ! and a hearty heave-O ! On the capstan the boatswain was placed, With the sword of command in his ready hand, And a pistol-belt round his waist. When lo ! it appeared to the mutineers, That not a man on board Had lost his life in the terrible strife With pike and gun and sword ! With a ho ! heave-0 ! and a hearty heave-0 ! The crew began to feel The might of the charm that kept them from harm, As it lay unknown in the keel ! Aye, aye, my hearties ! what blew the gale As never blew gale before, The ship like a feather rode out the weather, Though she hugged a rocky shore ! And oho ! aha ! the fierce delight, To snatch the fleeing prey From the very teeth of the jaws of Death In the breaker s cloud of spray ! 132 THE SPECTRE SHIP. Till, overjoyed in the might of .the caul That preserved the ship and crew, They ventured more than ever before As their greed the more ravenous grew Till, one by one, on the bloody deck Of the boarded ship, in glee, The wounded died, to fall o er the side Of the vessel into the sea Till, one by one, in the bloody brawl Of the revelers on the shore, The ready knife took the luckless life That never risked death before Till, one by one, beyond the might Of the caul in the keel inwrought, But one in ten of fifty men The pipe of all hands brought The first, the stump on the capstan set, The second on the mast, The third alone with a loaded gun, The fourth with a plummet cast While the fifth stood at the winding wheel To guide the . hip aright With only five of the crew alive Within the caul-charm s might ! With only five of the crew alive, Like the senses in the poll Of Man afloat in his gallant boat, With a caul in his inwrought Soul ! With only five of the crew alive, To see, to hear, to feel, To taste and to smell of the heaven or hell Inwrought with the soul in her keel ! With only five of the crew alive. Between the sky and the wave ; While a mint of gold lay in the hold, Like the labor of life in a grave ! THE SPECTRE SHIP. 133 Like the labor of life in the grave of Greed, That sinks in its self dug hole, Till, in the form of a hungry worm, It gnaws into its own soul ! Till, behold ! the five of the crew alive, Unable to rob on the waves, Took of the gold in the vessel s hold And bought a cargo of slaves. And bought a cargo of human slaves, As black as black could be, And spread the sail to the sou -east gale, To sell them over the sea. With a ho! heave-0 ! and a hearty heave-0 ! The ship drave on in mirth Like a thought s 01 " 8 back o er the sea of life s track, From the grave to to the cradle of birth ! Like a thought lllg back o er the sea of life s track, From a grave in the hell of sin To the cradle of birth in the heaven on earth That in the past hath been ! When behold ! a cloud appeared in the wky And spread from pole to pole, As heavy and black as the dreadful rack Of death to a sinful soul ! The while the gale with increasing might, Blew as never gale blew before, Till the boatswain s word was no longer heard In the hurricane s deaffening roar ! The while the billows heaved and swelled, Till, behold ! a mountain crest As if two seas had dashed and together crashed North and south, from the east and the west ! When, through the wave, the vessel drave With the black flag on its mast, And rode on the tide on the other side A Spectral Ship of the Past ! 134 THE SPECTRE SHIP. A spectral ship with a spectral crew Five spectral sailors in all, In a spectral boat like a feather afloat With a soul in her inwrought caul ! In a spectral boat like a feather afloat, With a soul that lived thro the waves ; And within the hold, the gain of gold, In five hundred spectral slaves ! Five hundred spectral slaves as white As the foam in the teeth of the gale ; For tte skins of the blacks had been flayed from their backs And sewed into the sail ! Five hundred spectral slaves Oho ! That, from the vessel s hold, Shed in the night a wondrous light As of silver spangled with gold ! Till, behold, the ship in the midnight gloom, In the awful form appeared Of a wreck in the daze of the lightning s blaze. While the thunder-clap is heard ! A shape of light in the blackest of night. When the blinded eyes are closed, And the ears are dead in a maddened head A soul-seen vessel s ghost ! With behold ! the crew in the wondrous light, To see, to hear, and to feel, To taste, and to smell of the midnight hell Of the caul, like a soul, in the keel ! The first, the stump on the capstan set, The second on the mast, The third alone with a loaded gun, The fourth with a plummet cast While the fifth stood at the winding wheel To guide the ship aright, Before the gale that filled the sail In the everlasting night ! THE SPECTRE SHIP. 135 With a ho ! heave-0 ! and a hearty heave-0 ! The ship drave on in mirth Like a thought goi ? g back o er the sea of life s track From beyond the grave to birth ! Back o er the deep of the wisdom of age, And the shoal of youthful wit Back o er the flood of the River of Blood To its source in the Port of Pitt ! With a ho ! heave-0 ! and a hearty heave-0 ! The ship drave into the port Whence she had cleared while the great crowd cheered, And the cannons boomed in the fort ! Christ Jesu ! to stand on the trembling bridge, In the sound of the midnight bell, As the ship drives in the Ship of Sin ! Before the blast of Hell ! To see the black flag on the mast, That quivers in the gale ; And the skins from the backs of the flayed-alive blacks That flap in the sable sail ! To see the crew in the ghastly hue That issues from the hold A wondrous light as if shed in the night From silver spangled with gold ! The first, the stump on the capstan set, The second on the mast, The third alone with a loaded gun, The fourth with a plummet cast While the fifth stands at the winding wheel To guide the ship aright, As she drives in, the Ship of Sin, In the everlasting night ! To see and to hear above the roar Of the midnight hell-blown blast And the flap of the sail in the angry gale Against the quivering mast 13(j THE SPECTRE SHIP. And the ho ! heave-O I and the hearty heave-O * Of the crew in their devilish mirth, When the anchor is east and the ship made fast In the port of her clearance on earth To hear the five hundred .slaves shriek out, As never slaves shrieked before, Above the din of the Ship of Sin And the midnight hell-blast s roar I Christ Jesu ! as if they shrieked with the lungs Of the thousands of slaves untold, Flayed from black to white, at work at midnight. In the sinful service of gold ! Flayed from black to white, at work at midnight, In the golden service, of sin, To make the sail to catch the gale To drive the ghost ship in In into the clearance port of birth, The Port of Pitt, God wot, The source of the flood of the River of Blood Where the caul with the keel is inwrought ! " When a child is born with the membranes over the face, it is said lobe born with a caul. In the cata logue of superstitions, this is one of the favorable omens. The caul itself is supposed to confer privileges upon the possessor; hence the membranes are dried, and sometimes sold for a high price." Dunglison. The usual privilege conferred is immunity from drowning; hence the caul among sailors commands the highest price several guineas having been paid for a caul that has circumnavigated the globe. f This incident has been made known generally through Henry Clay, who, in a speech delivered in Con gress, said: "To illustrate the commercial habits and enterprise of the American people, (he said) he would relate an anecdote of a vessel, built and cleared at Pittsburgh for Leghorn. When she arrived at her place of destination, the master presented his papers to the custom-house officer who could not credit him, and said to him, Sir, your papers are forged; there is no such port us Pittsburgh in the world: your vessel must PRINCE GALLITZIN. 137 be confiscated. The trembling captain laid before the officer the map of the United States, directed him to the Gulf of Mexico, pointed out the mouth of the Missis sippi, led him a thousand miles up it to the mouth of the Ohio, and thence another thousand up it to Pitts burgh : * There, sir. is the port from whence my vessel cleared. The astonished officer, before he had seen the map. would ns readily h tve believed this vessel had been navigated from the moon. 1799 PRINCE GALLITZIN. "Gallitzin began his mission in 1799, with, perhaps, a dozen men of his faith scattered about through the mountain, and no other sanctuary, save the little ora tory of Father Flaget, in all the West, than the one of logs thirty feet long, which he himself had reared. He lived to see the village of Loretto, [in Cambria county,] which he had founded, grow into a populous and flour ishing town; to find the Faith, whose standard he had been the first to restore since its going down amid the ruins of Fort Duquesne, established upon a footing from \vhichnorevolutionoftimeorcircumstance was ever afterwards to displace it; to witness new chapels spring up, one by one, till every hamlet almost, dotting the lowlands down upon which he looked, had its spire; to behold his mission prevail, until the apostolic number of his original followers had increased and multiplied a thousandfold; till hospitals and houses of industry, by the liberal charities of his people, were erected ; and till boarding-schools, free-schools, orphan asylums, and the ological college- were institutions common throughout the land, as were the necessities which called them into existence. He died at Loretto in 1840." NEVIN. Since men are the expressions growth-inwrought Of their environment, it follows that In looking, with the eye of contemplation, At men as representatives of places, The circumstances of their lives and actions Are seen within the mirror of themselves : Tis not the eye that sees but the idea. l^ehold the Little World a wilderness ; And, on the Alleghany mountain s crest, L BRADY. His back turned to the flesh-pots of the East His soul forever severed from his seed A prince in prayer kneels before the Cross ! The light of his lone taper has dispelled The gloom and terror of the hemlock s shade ; The tinkling of his matin-bell is heard Instead of the dread rattle of the snake With fang-envenomed jaw thrown back to strike ; The perfume of his censer has displaced The baneful foetnr of the climbing rhns ; A soft and mellow light is everywhere Diffused upon the painted leaves of autumn ; And the warm breath of balm within the wind Is the sweet spirit of the Holy Man Commingling sanctity with solitude. The Mother with her Boy-Babe in her arms Appears with the uprising sun in th r East The light of Life Eternal in the dawn ! The while, the Manito, his children s scalps Within his bloody hands, sinks in the West, Tnto the night of death that knows no dawn ! The symbol of the cross, mark on thee, Man, And in thee, Soul, and join with him in prayer ; Where kneels the potentate of earth, the prince, The peasant may, to rise with him, mayhap, Into the azure of the Alle^hanies, Illumined in the Light of Life Eternal ! - 1779-1800 SAMUEL BRADY. " Capt. Samuel Brady was born in Shippensburg, in Cumberland county, in 1758, but soon after removed with his father to the West Branch of theSusquehannat GEOR-GE RAPT*. 19 a. few miles above Northumberland. Cradled amid th-e alarms and excitements of a frontier exposed to savage warfare, Brady s military propensities were very early developed. He eagerly sought a post in the Revolution ary army ; was at the siege of Boston ; a lieutenant at the massacre of the Paoli ; and in 1779 was ordered to Fort Pitt with the regiment under Gen. Broadhead. A short time previous to this, both his father and brother had fallen by the hands of Indians; and from that mo ment Brady took a solemn oath of vengeance against all Indians. And his future life was devoted to the ful filment of his vow. While Gen. Broadhead held com mand at Fort Pitt, ( 1780-81,; Brady was often selected to command small scouting parties sent into the Indian, country north and west of the lort, to watch the movements of the savages; a charge which Brady always fulfilled with his characteristic courage and sagacity." I>AY. The scetfe shifts with the actor on the stage An Indian summer comes with paint bedaubtd ; The sky s aflame ; the rivers run with blood : The Pale-face and the .Red-skin, side by side, Are indistinguishable savages; The speeding tomahawk gleams in the eye ; The death-whoop rings and echoes in the ear; The butchery of babes is in the heart ! 18U5 GEORGE RAP P. For particulars, the reader is referred to the little book printed in Pittsburgh, in 1806, entitled, " The Har mony Society, at Economy, Penn a. Founded by George Rapp, A. D. 1805. With an Appendix. By Aaron Williams, D. D." Again the land s a land of peace and plenty : The larva of the moth weaves in her loom 140 SAM MEASON, THE ROBBER. The silken band of love and wedding gown : The teasel pricks the woolen cloth of warmth Unto the old and needy in the wind ; The purple srape sinks bursting in the vat ; To flow erelong into the veins of age A recollection of the joys of youth ; The opposite^ of human kind and spheres Meet and commingle in the shop in peace. With sharpened swords and stiel blades in their liands ; Economy and Harmony are heard Upon the earth as the abodes of men ! 1790-1810 ME A SOX, THE ROBBER. Samuel Meason, one of the most noted highwaymen of America, was a native of Fayette county, Pennsylva nia. His depredations extended from the head of tiie Ohio to the mouth of the Mississippi during the latter part of the last and the beginning of the present cen tury. A large reward having been offered for his head, he was slain by two men, who, when they tendered the head and claimed the reward, were recognized as high waymen who had belonged to Meason s gang, and re ceived their desserts on the gallows. The country is accursed and foul with blood ; The heath is haunted by the highwayman : The rock s a robber to the traveler ; The cave conceals the captive and her shame ; The moan of murder s on the mountain height The voice in vain for help is in the vale ; The ripple in the river for a moment see ! Reveals, before it sinks, the blo-ited corpse ; The air is stifling and the heart is hushed ; The eyeballs start within their sockets, as They glare into the bloodshot eyes of Crime ! THE HOARY OLD HERO OF HELL. 141 1810 - THE HOARY OLD HERO OF HELL. The scene of the terrible tragedy of Polly Williams, enacted in the early part of the summer of 1810, is at a place called the White Rocks a cliff near the crest of the Chestnut Ridge, ( or Laurel Hill, as the mountain is called erroneously south of the Youghiogheny,) about six miles south-east of Uniontown, the capital of Fu- yette county. And, estimated by the impression the event has left upon the people in the several counties of Fayette, Westmoreland and Greene, no local occur rence, in the annals of Southwestern Pennsylvania, is of as great importance and entitled to more considera tion by the philosopher and poet, as the story of this woman and her betrayer and murderer, Philip Rogers ; possibly because, with the eye of a poet the people un consciously have seen in Polly Williams and Philip Rogers the opposite and supplemental halves of man kind, and in the murder of a mother with child by a father the most horrible of crimes, indicating, in the most glaring light to the understanding of all, the anni hilation of humanity. In the Appendix the reader will find several poems on the hubject one by my lament ed friend, Mr. A. F. Hill, who, in the exuberance of his youthful fancy has amplified the story into an enter taining novel, entitled " The White Rocks, or the Rob bers Den a Tragedy of the Mountains." The night was dark, but the camp-fire shone, With a ruddy, flickering light, On the mountain s crown of ragged stone That merry November night. When the cup went round with a song or jest Among the merry three, Till the midnight came like a bat of flame Flitting hither and thither in glee. The youngest was a beardless boy, With a dimple in his chin, A maiden s mouth in the triumph of truth, And a soul untouched by bin. 142 THE HOARY OLD HERO OF HELL. The second was a man in years, And acquaintance with the world, With an eye ringed with red in a heavy head. And a white lip slightly curled. While the third was grizzled at thirty and three, His visage scored and crossed As if when a boy he had gambled for joy, And staked his manhood, and lust ! * Yea, give us a toast, my beardless boy ! The grizzled gambler said ; While the man in years, aglow in tears, Nudged his feet and nodded his head. " I drink to the maiden of womanly worth. With her heart in an open eye, Whom sinless to keep, as a babe asleep, I willingly would die ! " " Well said, my boy ; but hear us all," The grizzled gambler said, " Before we drain our cups again, And betake ourselves to bed." " I drink to the wife who takes this life, As she takes the wind and weather, And who says, We ll share the foul and fair We ll live and die together. " " Well said, my maudlin half and half," The grizzled gambler said ; 44 But before I quaff to a cry and a laugh, I ll drink to the living dead ! " I drink to the mother, above any other, Who has yielded to my will, And who loves to die! fondly swearing that I Am kindest when I kill ! " The gambler said, with a toss of his head. And a flash from his coal black eye, When a sudden sound, that came from the ground, Upheld his glass on high. THE HOARY OLD HERO OF HELL. 143 " Well said, thou youth, with thy maiden s mouth ; Well said, thou half and half; Well said, thou son oi the Evil One ; But hear me ere ye quaff ! " The earth spake with an old man s voice, Betwixt a gasp and a groan ; When a sudden blast of the wind swept past And chilled the boy to the bone ! When a sudden blast of the wind swept past, And made the camp-fire glare ; Till another gust swept the fiery dust Into ashes in the air ! And all was the gloom of the silent tomb On the mountain, that merry midnight ; When a crack in the crown of ragged stone Revealed a ghastly light! And lo ! there appeared the long white beard Of an old, old man clinging fast To rhe very edge of the White-Rock ledge Whence Polly Williams was cast ! The beardless boy, though he shuddered with fright, Sprang to his feet to save " But touch that ghost, and thou art lost ! That brink is of the grave ! " The maudlin man said, as over his head The boy turned his cup, and fell ; While the grizzled man laughed as his liquor he quaffed u To the Hoary old Hero of Hell 1 " And again filled his cup ; when the boy stood up Aghast, in horror and wonder, Like a statue, in form, in the midst of a storm Of lightning and of thunder! w Have courage, my boy, and fill again, In despite of this damned ghost ; For since we have burst into being accursed, Let us live among the lost ! " 144 THE HOARY OLD HERO OF HELL, The grizzled man said, with a toss of his head, And a flash from his coal-black eye; But the b( * . kneeling down , crushed his cup on the stone, And begfto to pray and to cry I When In ! the old, old man, with the bound Of a youth overflowing with joy, Sprang away from the edge of the White-Rock ledge, And sate down by the boy, And spake to him, with a strengthened voice, But with many a gasp and groan ; While the maudlin man wept as he smiling slept, Arid the grizzled man draak alone. Now, Christ thee save, thou weeping boy, Now, Christ thee save and see ; For thou hast given, thro the mercy of Heaven, A moment of rest to me ! "A moment of rest to the living dead, Doomed, as I lived to damn ! The Hero of Hell, it is said and well, For I Philip Rogers am ! - Doomed to hang on the edge of the White-Rock ledge, Until the end of time, And know no rest, save when I attest To youth, the course of crime. Ah, God ! how many, many years In agony have I hung To the ragged ed^e of the White-Rock ledge, Where Polly Williams clung ! And felt that wretched woman s woe And the pang of her mother pain, Till the crushing stone has broken the bone And benumbed the dizzy brain ! And over and over and over again, With every hurried breath With every thought in a phrenzied brain wrought, I have died her awful death ! THE HOARY OLD HERO OF HELL. 145 "With never a respite till I spake Unto thy toast, youth, And withheld the brim of the cup of crime From thy merry maiden s mouth ! " Yea, Christ thee save from my living grave, For thy timely, timely toast ; For thou, O youth, with thy maiden s mouth. Hast eased a damned ghost ! tl And in this moment of rest from woe, The course of my life, to scan List, while I tell what hath befell At least one sinful man. : My father died to leave me a babe With a fondling mother alone, When to woe I grew fast with the wealth he d amassed, As will as a widow s son. u- 1 knew no wish ungratified, Nor appetite unappeased ; I kicked and I cried and resistance defied I d do, and did, as I pleased ! I never knew how fast I grew, Till I held as idle toys My father s tomb and my mother s womb, When I was shunned by the boys. "But what cared I for company, In my selfishness accursed ! I was only too glad to go from bad To worse, and then to worst ! " The pleasures of boyhood did but cloy, In my self-sated mouth, When into the wood in solitude, I wandered a yearning youth. I was possessed with a fierce unrest, Which selfishness could not still ; When I stole to the edge of the White-Rock ledge. Myself in despair to kill ! 7 46 THE HOAKY OLD HERO OF HELL, "When lo ! as I stood, in this murderous mood ? Betwixt despair and death On the ragged edge of the rocky ledge, My shadow fell beneath ! "And athwart the face of a mountain maid, In search of the raw-red root, To bring relief to a mother s grief With the breath of death in her throat. " When, looking up, the maid espied Me in my murderous mood ; And shrieking outright in dismay and affright. She fled into the wood. " Aback I crept from the dizzy edge, And adown the fearful height, When I pursued the maid through the wood, Till I clutched her in her flight. " I knew not why I followed her, Nor what a maid might be Unless it was no other cause Than that she fled from me. "Ah, God ! how often Man, as I, Betwixt despair and death, Stands on the edge of a rocky ledge, Till his shadow falls beneath : And athwart the face of the maiden of chance, As it hath me befell, From that hour to doom his life to the tomb And his soul to heaven or hell ! For till that hour, I caught the maid And held her in my arms, I never knew that my yearning grew To feed on a woman s charms ! " I never knew there was beauty on earth, Till I looked in the face of the girl In her blue eye a tear, starting, trembling in fear, Then running to hide in a curl ! THE HOARY OLD HERO OF HELL. "A curl that grew like a golden vine, In an alabaster vase, That daintily made of the sunshine a shade That half concealed her face. " I never knew that I had a heart, But only a selfish will, Till, against my breast, the maiden I pressed, And felt in it throbbing, a thrill ! en u And how or when, is beyond my ken, But on her warm, white neck, By chance I espied what her curls could not hide - A dainty coal-black speck. * When, with burning bliss, I imprinted a kiss Upon the quivering spot ; While still and clear rose her shriek in fear, Which I in my rapture heard not "Till I felt a hand on my shoulder laid Like a falling, trembling leaf; When ** arms becam * numb and my tongue and lips dumb, And I stole away like a thief! * I could have killed both the mother and maid. For resisting my desire ; But I held my breath when I felt that her death Would not extinguish my fire ! "When lo ! I mild and milder grew, To win what death denied ; And, into the wood, in a feverish mood, To woo the maiden, I hied. "1 sought the place where my shadow fell, And I dug the raw-red root, To bring relief to her mother s grief With the breath of death in her throat. "And down before the cabin door Of the mother and the maid, The raw-red root with bread and fruit. In the dead of night, I laid. 148 THE HOARY OLD HERO OF HELL. " And again and again at the cabin door. Upon the mountain side, I laid the root with bread and fruit, Till the maiden s mother died. "When hark ! I heard a voice in the night Come back ! come back ! it said ; I entered the door and sate before The living and the dead. "And over the corpse I held my hand In that of the mournful maid, As I plighted my troth with an awful oath, That she never should be betrayed ! "When lo! the head of the ghastly dead Uprose from the humble hearse ; When the naaiden fell down, and lay in a swown, While I smote the corpse with a curse ! "And again, when the corpse was laid in the gruvp, And I kissed the mournful maid, I plighted my troth with an awful oath, That she never should be betrayed ! "The while, I stood, in a murderous mood, With my heel on the upturned clod. To kick the head of the ghastly dead If it rose above the sod ! " Ah, God ! how swift speed the moments of grit- f On the wings of expectant bliss ! How soon cease to flow the streamlets of woe, When sipped at their source in a kiss ! "Scarce a fortnight had sped, when I knelt at the bed Of the motherless mountain maid, And I vowed and I swore, as I d done before 1 , That she never should be betrayed. "Ah, God ! the fierce flash in my phrenzied braiu, And in my hot blood the thrill ! When the mald ln despair clasped her hands in prayer, And yielded to my will ! THE HOARY OLD HERO OF HELL. 149 ^ The morning came, and the golden sun Hose over the mountaiu s crest; When my plighted troth with my uwiul oath Dissolved with the morning mist ! * The maiden was mine my slave ! my toy ! To be caressed or cursed ! And again was I glad to go from bad To worse, and then to worst! " But, in good or evil, a god or devil, Unto the mountain maid, She knelt at the head of my midnight bed And for my welfare prayed. "Ah, God ! to see that woman of worth Devote to me her life ! Had I not burst into being accursed I had worshiped in her a Wife ! u A Wife self sacrificing, fond, To hallow the humblest clod ; And to lift into heaven sinful Man forgiven, With the earthy arms of God ! " But I had burst into being accursed, And I could not worship a wife Nor the heaven- blest mother when enclosing another She lives a double life ! " For scarcely had eight months come and gone, When lo ! in murderous mood, I led the maid-mother through the shade Of the mountain s leafy wood. "The bird was blithe on the birch-tree bough, And mirthful music made ; But blither was I without melody Unto the mother-maid. " There dwells a man of God, I began, In a humble hut of stone, Beyond the edge of the White-Rock ledge, Come, he shall make us one. 150 THE HOARY OLI> HERO OF HELL. " Come, he shall make us man and wife, I softly said, and smiled ; And a heaven of earth beyond the birth Of our love-begotten child. "The violet blue, when bathed in dew, Is bright in the morning sun ; But brighter her eye, when she said, Till I die, God s will through thine be done ! " " She took my arm, as we walked along, Through the wild unbroken heath ; When I felt how great was her double weight. And hot and short her breath. " Come, let us rest a moment, here, I said to the mountain maid, On the ragged edge of the White- Rock ledge, Come, do not be afraid k For why, God wot, tis a hallowed spot ; For here, thou savedst my life, To be unto me to eternity My Savior in a Wife ! "On the ragged edge of the White-Rock ledge. We stood with bated breath She, light in her love as the bright height above, I, dark as the depth beneath ! "When lo ! from out of the darkness came Unto me, in my murderous mood, A lightning flash, with a thunder crash, That burned my brain and blood ! "I seized the woman by the neck, And, with resistless force, O er the ragged edge of the White-Rock ledge, I hurled her with a curse ! " But God have mercy on my soul ! And Christ thee save and see, My beardless boy, in thy guileless joy, For the rest thou givest me ! THE HOARY OLD HERO OF HELL. 151 " The woman fell ; but on a crag, Scarce a foot or twain beneath The ragged edge of the White-Iiock ledgo, She clung with the clutch of Death ! "I could have saved the double life That hun suspended there ; For the wind from below began to blow, And raised to my hand, her hair ! The wind from below began to blow, And raised to my hand, her hair; And in the breath that came from beneath, I heard the woman s prayer ! Thy will, God, be done on earth, As it is done in heaven ! But let the love of a mother move The father to be forgiven ! ; - But I had burst into being accursed, And closed to Christ were my ears; For what is addressed to the Grod of the blest The de il of the damned never hears ! And again, from out of the darkness came Unto me, in my murderous mood, A lightning flash, with a thunder crash, That burned my brain and blood. "I seized a stone, and, looking down Into the upturned eye, T raised it above the look of love That beheld me, e en then ! in the sky ! il And, I held it above the look of love, Till, down went the ragged stone With a hurried rush of the air, and a crush Of living flesh and bone ! And the rolling head of a brain benumbed Hung over the depth beneath ; While fast to the edge of the White-Rock ledge Clutched the rigid fingers of Death ! I52f THE HOARr OLD HERO OF HELL. "When, kneeling down on the ragged stone, In an attitude of prayer,. With a blasphemous curse that redoubled my force-, I kicked the corpse clinging there ! u I heard a scraping, tearing sound And then a distant thud I When all was still as Death until I heard my throbbing blood ! *" Until I heard my throbbing blood Within my heart and brain I With every beat that thud repeat, And the awful curse of Cain I - Upon my belly then I fell, And began like a snake to crawl ; Lest over the edge of the White-Rock ledge, In my wickedness I should fall ! "Ah, God I the flash in my fearful brain 7 And in my blood, the chill, When I felt the first pang of the worst, That I never myself could kill ! Aback I crawled from the dizzy edge, And adown the fearful height And then beneath until dear Death Appeared in my sight ! l - Ah, God ! how calm and sweet the look Of Death to the accursed I I gazed at the dead before me laid, Till my eye-balls seemed to burst ! And then I began to form a plan To bury the dead out of sight ; But I tried in vain to stand again Erect in manhood s might ! 14 For on my neck the double weight Of the mother-maid was hung; While my fingers closed into those of the ghost That to the cliff-edge clung! THE HOARY OLD HERO OF HELL. 153 "Ah, God ! the dead before me laid, I could not even touch ; For when I placed my hand on the waist, It shrank away from my clutch ! "It was the living within the dead ! And from that moment for aye, I became in the dead the living laid, To never never die ! "Adown the mountain side I crept, And into the town in the vale ; Where every man whom I met began To tell me an awful tale Of a dark deed done by the Evil One In a fondling father s guise Beneath the edge of the White-Rock ledge A murdered mother lies ! " But I never raised my heavy head, Nor to the tale replied, Till I cursed the Law for refusing to draw The gibbet noose, when I lied ! Not Guilty ! I said, with a toss of my head, And withdrew my neck from the noose ; For, to speak the truth, with my evil mouth, My tongue I could not loose. " When lo ! my mother appeared in court, With my father s silken purse ; When the solemn oath dissolved into froth, And then into naught, with my curse. " Not Guilty ! returned the jury suborned ; While the judge gave a knowing look ; When I tied my shoes with the dangling noose, And crawled outside the dock ! " I crawled outside the dock with a groan ! While to the railing I clung, As upon the edge of the White-Rock ledge, The murdered mother hung 1 154 THE HOARY OLD HERO OF HELL* " While one and all my path forsook With a shudder and a groan ; Until, as I d burst into being accursed, With my mother, I was alone t u Ah, God r the woe of the wretched heart, No human tongue can tell ! When the mother that nursed becomes the worst Embodiment of hell ! " I beiran to curse when lo ! my lips Became as a statue s dumb - r Then I tried to cut my mother s throat, When my limbs grew weak and numb ! " And still with a love that increased with age, She pierced my wretched heart ! Ah, God ! the curse that made her love worse Than a barbed and poisoned dart ! " When, at length, at iny side, in bed she died, Where I lay sick and alone Crooked, shriveled, and thin, and hoary with sin, Like a bent and bearded bone ! " And there she lay, while the summer s sun Shone like a glowing coal ! Till, with every breath, my mother in death, Made a sickening stench of my soul ! " And there she lay, while the summer s sun Upon her rotting fell, Til! I lay in bed, the living dead Devouring my mother in hell ! " For the hell-hound of hunger was gnawing within And must be glut with food ! And I was accursed with a hellish thirst, Till I sucked my mother s blood ! "I ate her flesh and I drank her blood, Until I was alone Crooked, shriveled, and thin, and hoary with sin, Abed with another bone ! THE HOARY OLD HERO OF HELL. 155 <; When lo ! there appeared a beauteous luaid In pity, at my bed ; And she buried the bone of my mother alone, And lay down in its stead ! " But pang upon pang is the pastime of hell, One woe upon another ; Than that beauteous maid beside me laid, I had rather my rotting mother! " For why ? God wot, her eye was blue, And golden was her hair ; And she knelt at the head of my midnight bed In holy, holy prayer ! " We lived together as man and wife, For twenty years and one ; And she bore me seven fair daughters of Heaven, But never a sin-sired sou ! "And one by one my daughters died, Ere they could sin or shame All save the first of the seven nursed In holy wedlock s name ! u When, her hands on her breast, their mother at rest Made an end of her holy life Ah, God ! to dwell in the hot-blast of hell With an angel of Heavea to wife ! " But pang upon pang is the pastime of hell, One woe upon another ; Than the beauteous first of the seven nursed, I had rather their angel mother ! " For why ? God wot, her eye was blue, And golden was her hair ; And she knelt at the head of my midnight bed In holy, holy prayer ! " When lo ! as she hied to the mountain side To dig the raw-red root To bring relief to her father s grief With the breath of death in his throat ! 156 THE HOARY OLD HERO OF HELL. "On the trodden ground a snake she found, Benumbed with an early frost ; When, the senseless form unto life, to warm, She laid it in her breast. And when she stood beside my bed, With the precious raw-red root, Christ ! Christ ! behold ! a serpent of gold Coiled around her throbbing throat ! " Christ ! Christ ! behold ! a serpent of gold Looked into her upturned eye ; And, while hissing it rang, it sank its fang That before me my daughter might die ! "Down fell the maid across my bed, Where I lay sick and alone Crooked, shriveled, and thin, and hoary with sin, Like a bent and bearded bone ! " When the serpent of gold uncoiled from the neck Of my daughter on the bed And began to twine in coils about mine, And to raise its awful head ! " Till lo ! it looked into my eye, While, with hissing loud it rang, And, to kill in vain, again and again, It darted its deadly fang ! " While my daughter s corse, across me laid. In the winter s breath of frost, Congealed into another woe A ghastly, icy ghost ! "And on my breast lay the icy ghost, In its hand the raw-red root, Till my blood ran as cold as the golden fold Of the snake around my throat ! " And on my breast lay the icy ghost, Till my beard froze over my mouth, When I was accursed with a burning thirst In a hell of eternal drouth ! THE HOARY OLD HERO OF HELL. 157 " But pang upon pang is the pastime of hell, One woe upon another I had but felt that my beard would not melt, When I began to smother ! * To smother, God wot ! while I lay in the bed, With the ghost and the serpent, alone Crooked, shriveled, and thin, and hoary with sin, Like a bent and bearded bone ! " When lo ! a blast of the wind swept past, And carried me through the air, To the ragged edge of the White-Rock ledge, And left me clinging there 1 " And left me clinging there and for aye ! Doomed, as I lived to damn ! For I had burst into being accursed I Philip Rogers am ! "I am the living dead, God wot, Of whom the people tell, Whenever a maid by man is betrayed The Hoary old Hero of Hell ! " With a sudden start, the beardless boy Sprang up from the frosty ground, And stared aghast while the angry blast Swept by with a sullen sound ! But in the dim light of the dawn, He saw nor comrades twain, Nor the damned ghost of bone and frost That phrenzied yet his brain ! He saw but the spot, where a fire he had built To protect against frost and fright, Beneath the edge of the White-Rock ledge, Where he must pass the night. Adown the mountain side he rushed, And entered his mother s door " My son ! my son ! what deed hast thou done, Thou st never done before ! 158 THE HOARY OLI> HERO OF HELL. " But jester rn^orn. thine eye was bright, And blood-red was thy cheek My son ! my son ! what deed hast thou done, That thou hast not tongue to speak ! " U 0h, I have been coursing the red, red fox Upon the mountain side, Till, belated I lay till the dawning of day, 1 The beardless boy replied. "Thy hounds I have kenneled and chained over night, And no ticks in their hair, I espy My son ! my son ! what deed hast thou done. That thou hast the tongue to lie ! " Oh, I have been waiting the red, red deer, At the lick on the mountain side, Till belated I lay till the dawning of day," The beardless boy replied. " Thy rifle has hung on its pins over night. Above my unguarded bed My son ! my son ! what deed hast thou done. That hath made thee the living dead ! " " Oh, I have seen a damned ghost, Upon the mountain side, Beneath the edge of the White-Rock ledge." The beardless boy replied. "If thou hast seen the damned ghost, Where Polly Williams fell, My son ! my son ! the deed thou hast done Of the Hoary old Hero of Hell ! " Come, come, my son, and break thy fast But wherefore dost thou start ! Come, come, and eat of thy mother s meat, And drink the blood of my heart ! * Come, come, my son, ere upon my corse. The sun glows like a coal, When with every breath thy mother in death Will make a stench of thy soul ! " THE HOARY OLD HERO OF HELL. 159 The beardless boy, with a heavy head, Crept out of his mother s sight ; And lo ! by the edge of the White-Rock ledge, He has taken a hurried flight ! He has taken a hurried flight, God wot, Across the mountain and moor, Until he stood in a lonely wood, Before a cabin door, Where, hark ! he hears a voice within Appealing unto heaven " Oh, may the love of a mother move The father to be forgiven ! " And he has taken a woman in black, Unto the kirk of stone, Where the holy priest through the love of Christ Has made them one flesh and bone. " And he has taken a woman in white, Away from the kirk of stone, Till lo! on the edge of the White-Rock ledge, He stands with his bride alone ! And he has knelt with his bride in white, In holy, holy prayer ; And God has he blest for giving him rest From clinging in hell ever there ! And down the mountain side has he gone, And entered his mother s door My son ! my son ! what deed hast thou done I ne er saw this woman before ! " "Oh, I have taken this woman to wife, Unto the kirk of stone, Where the holy priest through the love of Christ Has made us one flesh and bone ! My son ! my son ! the deed thou hast done Of a bearded man and good ! No more shalt thou eat of thy mother s meat, And drink of her heart s hot blood ! 160 THE SALT, SALT SEA. v> Thine eye has regained its winsome light, And red, red is thy cheek, While the tongue of Truth hangs in thy mouth The word of God to speak. u The word of God to speak alway, And thy tale of torture to tell, Whenever a maid by man is betrayed The Hoary old Hero of Hell ! * That thou mayest give a moment of rest Unto the living dead He that sleeps in sin, while his conscience within, Makes a hell for his soul of his bed ! r 1813 THE SALT, SALT SEA. The history of the first salt well in Southwestern Pennsylvania is given as follows, in the little book of my worthy friend, Mr. Thomas J. Chapman, entitled "The Valley of the Conemaugh," and printed at Altoona, in 1865 "The manufacture of salt has long been a prosper ous business in this county. These salt-wells are prin cipally to be found along the banks of the Conemaugh. The existence of salt water in this section was indicated by the oozing of water, slightly brackish, through the fissures of the rocks. About the year 1813, when salt, in consequence of the war, was extravagantly high, Mr. William Johnston, an enterprising gentleman, deter mined to perforate the rock, and ascertain whether there was not some valuable fountain from whence all these oo/ings issued. He commenced operations on the bank of the Conemaugh, near the mouth of the Loyal- hanna, and persevered until he had reached tne depth of 450 feet, when he struck an abundant fountain, strongly impregnated with salt. He immediately pro ceeded to tubing the perforation to exclude the fresh water, erecting furnaces, pans, and other fixtures, and was soon in the full tide of successful experiment, mak ing about thirty bushels per day, all of which was eagerly purchased at a high price. Mr. Johnston s suc cess induced others to embark in the business, most of whom were successful. Very soon the hitherto silent THE SALT, SALT SEA. - 161 and solitary banks of the river were all bustle, life, and enterprise. The canal which was afterward made to pass through this region, brought the most avail able means of transportation to these works, and salt formed one of the chief staples of com merce of that section." A hao; a horrible, hideous hag As ever haunted the night ! As loathesome and foul as the graveyard ghoul Pursued by the lash of light ! And yet she was a woman of worth, A daughter devoted to duty, A mother that smiled with the lips of her child An angel of goodness and beauty ! Her father behold yon wicked wight, Yon crooked and cankered man, That stands beside the seething tide Of the salt, salt sea in his pan. While anon he feeds the glowing fire, With many a hitch and halt, As he toils away from day to day To sever the sea from its salt. As if he fed the fire of hell, To sever his soul from its sin ; For, from his birth, like the salt in the earth, In him hath wickedness been. Aye, as if he were, beside the pan Of seething salt and evil, The truth to tell, in the hold of hell, None other than the Devil. For he it was this sinful sire, That turned her mouth awry, And robbed her face of ever trace Of its humanity. When, but a child with big blue eyes, She followed to the fire, Where in sport she ran by the seething pan, Provoking a splash in his ire. 162 THE SALT, SALT SEA. A splash of the seething silt, salt sea, A splash of the sea of sin, That instantly scarred and forever marred Her face from forehead to chin* f Her mother behold you wretched dame, Her wan cheeks wet with tears, Blind, deaf, and dumb, and to feeling numb Save to that inwrought in her fears. But weep as she may from morn till night, The sea will never be dry, She tastes in her mouth the sins of her youtb In the salt that conres from her eye. For she it was this woman accursed, That reddened her daughter s eye, And robbed her face of every trace Of its divinity. When, but a child, her daughter played Upon the beaten path, A flaming brand sped from the hand Of this wretched mother in wrath, That seared her brow with its glowing point, And burned her eye with its flame, That instantly scarred and forever marred Her face with her mother s shame. Aye, a hag she was a hideous hag ! What could she else have been ? The daughter of evil begat by the Devil Within the womb of sin ? And yet she was a woman of worth, A daughter devoted to duty, A mother that smiled with the lips of her child An angel of goodness and beauty ! For her hand was steady and patient and kind To hold the spoon to the mouth Of her mother benumbed by palsy and dumbed By the salt, salt sins of her youth. THE SALT, SALT SEA. 163 Aud her foot was ready and rapid and sure, Upon the puncheon floor, To go ere the word could be spoken and heard, On errand or cabin chore, t While her hand was full of cares and carks, From morning until night, To bake a>nd to brew, to shape and to sew, And to hide her face from the sight Of all mankind in one in her sire, Lest, with resistless force, The sea of salt rise with his fault Aad wreck him in remorse. While her heart was full of gratitude, From evening until morn, That she was blest with the babe on her breast Albeit a bastard born. Albeit a babe begat in the dark, To a father that fled in affright From the graveyard ghoul so loathesome and foul, That appeared with the morning light. For a Christ she beheld in her blessed babe, With his golden yellow hair, And his gleaming eyes of the morning skies When the mornings are warm and fair ! A dainty dimple in his cheek - Another in his chin As if the earth had emerged in his birth From the salt, salt sea of sin ! As if her sire had fed the fire Beneath the seething pan, Until the sea of its salt was free And he a sinless man. As if her dumb, deaf dame and numb, Had drained the salt sea dry, Till her joyful tear was as pure and clear As the rain-drop in the sky. 164 THE MAID AND THE MIRAGE. As if the sins entailed by birth Had been for aye forgiven, And the mother smiled with the lips of her child, An angel of bliss in heaven ! The while she sang a lullaby * Anon a solemn dirge, When she saw two clouds in the shape of shrouds Rise from the salt sea surge. And her father and mother were goue and for aye, Into the determined dust ; And the seething pan of the sinful man Was but a rim of rust, Where a little boy played in the light of the sun, From morning until even, While his mother s eye, in her home hard by, Was a guardian angel s in heaven. Aye, a hag of the salt-works of old was she, And scarred with the seething brine, But who will not say, in the heart-seeing day, That her face with her heart was divine ? 1820 THE MAID AND THE MIRAGE. The phenomenon, upon which the story in the fol lowing poem is based, according to tradition, occurred in the year 1820 the valley of Ligonier, lying between the Laurel Hill and the Chestnut Ridge, being lifted so high into the air, that, in the town of Mount Pleasant, on the west of Chestnut Ridge, the village of Stahlstown ten miles distant on the east of this mountain range, could be seen so distinctly that houses, barns, roads, and orchards could be distinguished by persons familiar with the scene. At a late period, as the writer has been informed by a credible person who witnessed it, this curious mirage has been seen in the same place. A par allel instance is recorded by Brocklesby as follows "A most extraordinary instance of the mirage oc curred at Hastings, on the coast of Sussex, on the 26th of July, 1798. The cliffs of the French coast are fifteen THE MAID AKD THE MIRAGE. miles distant from this town, and in the usual state of the atmosphere, are below the horizon and completely hid from view; but on the day mentioned, at five o clock P. M., they were seen extending to the right and left for several leagues, and apparently only a few miles off. As the narrator, Mr. Latham, walked along the shore, the sailors, who accompanied him, pointed out and named the different places on the opposite coast, which they were accustomed to visit. By the aid of a telescope, small vessels were plainly seen at anchor in the French harbors, and the buildings on the heights beyond were distinctly visible. "The Cape of Dungeness, which at the distance of 16 miles from Hastings, extends nearly two miles into the sea, appeared quite close to the town, and the fishing boats, that were sailing at the time between the two places, were magnified to a high degree. This curious phenomenon continued in its greatest beauty for more than three hours. The day was extremely hot, with out a breath of wind." While the mother slept, the maiden crept In silence to the door, Her own mistress to be, and the world to sec As never she d seen before. With a hurried breath, she crossed the heath, In the light of the stars above, Never turning her head while away she sped, Till she came to a gloomy grove. Here, feeling her heart beat as if it would break. She stayed in her stolen flight, And turned in dread to go back to her bed, When lo ! she beheld a light ! She beheld a light in her mother s hand, In the gloom of the night afar, Darting here and there to anxious fear Like a wandering fallen star, But the maid in her musing had fled far away, And, feeling her guilt in her heart, She less feared the night than the searching light, And made another start. 166 THE MAID AND THE MIRAGE. On through the gloom of the leafy grove, Where, taking the broad highway, She pursued her flight throughout the night Until the dawn of day. When sitting down upon a stone Beside a babbling brook, She began to eat of the stolen meat She had read of in the Book. When, behold ! a woodman, with his axe, Came, whistling like the thrush, That, perched on the height of the tree in the light. Cheered his mate in the shaded bush. And he was as fair in the face as the dawn, And shapely in his form ; Albeit his beard and hair appeared As if shorn by the shears of a storm. Aye, man and woman will greet when they meet, In the dawn on the highway of life, When all is bright in the golden light And unseen are sin and strife. The poll of the axe sank deep in the moss At the feet of the woodman so fair, While he spake of the sky of night in her eye, And the raven s wing in her hair. While the maiden sate on the brink of the brook, And looked at the rippling glass That daintily made in her vision a shade Of more than he feigned in her face. Of more than he feigned in her face himself ! Approaching her with his speech, Till, his axe falling down with a click on a stone, She trembled within his reach. Aye, all and more than he feigned, she saw In the mirror of the stream, Till in the bliss of a rapturons kiss, She closed her eyes in a dream. THE MAID AND THE MIRAGE. 167 She closed her eyes in a dream, and heard Only music that lulled to a sleep, In a lover s arms that knew no alarms, Deliriously deep ! "Come, come with me, my love and life, .From the light of the glaring day, To the bower of shade by the wild-wood made Beyond the trodden way. " Come, come with me, my love and life, Where none can ever see Though thy mother s eye were in the sky Above the greenwood tree. " The maiden rose from her resting stone Beside the rippling brook. And, with feverish blood went into the wood, With never an upward look. Until, behold ! a fire-bird* flit Before her down cast eyes A bird of fire rising higher and higher, And leading her looks to the skies ! Where, Christ behold ! the maiden saw Above the mountain s crest, Over which in the night she had taken her flight From the east unto the west The home of her childhood in the sky ! As plainly as sight can see, When the scene is near and the sky is clear, And the soul in the eye seems to be ! The home of her childhood in the sky The cabin and the grove, The white school-house amid the green boughs, And the church on the hill above ! The church on the hill above the school, And the graveyard in white and grey, Where, on a mound in the sacred ground, She had learned from her mother to pray 1 168 THE MAID AND THE MIKAG1T. With her cheeks dripping wet witb tbe salt, salt tears Of the soul that was in her eye, The maiden sank on her knees to thank Her God for His Hand in the sky f On the brink-edge of hell the maiden fell, As never she fell before, And prayed that, forgiven, to her home in heaven> God in mercy would her restore f When, gathering strength as she prayed to God 7 The maiden rose from the ground. And fiVd in fear like a timid deer That hears on its heels the hound. Aye, fled in fear from the hell behind In the woodman r s rapturous arms, That lulled to a deep delirious sleep The lynx of the maiden s alarms. While the woodman stood in wonder aghast At the vision in the sky, Of the home that revealed a heaven concealed To the soul in the maiden T s eye. While the woodman stood in wonder aghast, Till the vision had vanished, as well As the spirit had sped where the vision led To heaven away from hell. When, marking the course of the fleeing maid Beyond the mountain s crest, As on she sped without turning her head Aback unto the west He followed before the summer was spent, And found the happy land, Which into his sight o er the mountain s height God had lifted in His right hand. And he found the happy home of the maid, And thrice he turned to stare, Ere he saw in her eye the midnight sky, And the raven s wing in her hair. THE MAID AND THE MIRAGE. 169 And thrice she looked in the stranger s face, And at his shapely form, Ere she saw the beard and the hair that appeared As if shorn by the shears of a storm. For her cheek was as white as the windflower sf bloom In the mist of the mountain-side ; As if her soul had diffused thro the whole Of her being when she cried. While he was shorn and shaven, God wot, As never was woodman before, While, on his back a coat of black, As became a wooer, he wore. And ere the autumn had come and gone The wedding word was given, And the bride and groom found in their home Their God-appointed heaven. And long lived they in happiness, Nor sought to understand How into their sight in broad day-light God had lifted up the land. Nor why, but to save them from the grave Of sin, and sorrow, and death, To live a life as man and wife With an immortal breath. Nor shall the poet further inquire ; Suffice it unto youth, That heaven appears to the eye in tears That turns from hell, in truth. * The scarlet tanager, Pyranga rubra, is called the fire-bird in Southwestern Pennsylvania. Its plumage is brilliantly red. f The windflower, Anemone nemorosa a dainty iioral gem of the early spring familiar to every rambler through the wilds of Old Westmoreland, which is as worthy of consideration by the poet as the spring- beauty, the jossakeed of the Indians, daytonia Virginica. 170 THE HEADLESS HEART. 1825 THE HEADLESS HEART. The Rattlesnake Bond which furnishes the basis of the following story of sympathy is a matter of record) in Westmoreland county. It is a poor and simple man, And he his cause hath lost, When, getting no bail, he lieth in jail, For payment of the cost. And he hath sate the livelong day, And eke the livelong night, His hard hands a bed for his heavy head, A wretched, weeping wight. The while the rat, with a jet black eye, Doth run from out its hole, And eat the bread on the table laid, And drink of the brimful bowl. The while the cob* goeth up and down, From his head to the cell s low roof, Till his sunburnt hair and its strands of air Are woven like warp and woof. When lo ! the jailer hath come to the door, And beholds the wretched man, And the spider above in the web it hath wove, And the rat at the brimful can. And ke hath run to fetch his wife, And eke his babe, to the door, To see the sight in broad day-light, That never was seen before ! When lo ! the three have come to the door, And behold the wretched man, And the spider above in the web it hath wove, And the rat at the brimful can. THE HEADLESS HEART. 17i When the blessing of God for aye be its dole, For its timely, timely shriek ! The baby hath wrought in its outcry what Nor mother nor father could speak ! The baby hath wrought, without reason or thought^ All into sweet sympathy, Where the human heart, from the head apart, Aye throbbeth, and kooweth not why. Up riseth the wretched, weeping man, With a sudden start and f cry, While the rat in affright doth flee out of sight , And the spider goeth on high. Up riseth the wretched, weeping man, But only to sit again ; As if in his heart he feeleth the dart Of a sudden and sickening pain. " What aileth thee?" quo 1 the jailer forthwith, u I pray thee to me tell, " And thou shalt have what thou mayest crave, To ease thee in thy cell," But lo ! the wretched, weeping man, So haggard and so wild, Maketh answer none, but looketh upon The jailer s little child. "Hast thou a babe?" quo the jailer anon, " That thou dost mine behold ! The wretched wight replyeth outright, " A babe but nine days old ! " * And its mother " quo the jailer s spouse, "How fareth it with thy wife?" * Abed she lyeth," the wretch replyeth, " And looketh not like life ! " And now, behold, the jailer hath gone Unto the commissioners three, And what he hath seen and heard, I ween, He hath told in sweet sympathy. 172 THE HEADLESS HEART. And merry men all, as they sit in the hall, Behold the commissioners three, And when they have heard, they in The prisoner must go free. And behold the clerk, with a cast-iron smirk, Hath drawn up a bond with a seal " Now to us fetch the simple wretch, Who cannot think, but feel." And behold the jailer hath fetched the wretch, Before the commissioners three, When the wily clerk, with the cast-iron smirk, Doth read the bond in glee "That on mid-summer s day at uoon, The prisoner do not fail, To bring unto the commissioners three, Else, to go again to jail, "For every dollar he oweth for cost, A foot of rattlesnake, Alive and sound, as may be found, For consideration s sake, "To wit : Full one and twenty feet, And a quarter to the nail, With interest, as the bond expressed, The rattles on the tail." And why have the commissioners three Demanded this merry pledge ? The simple wight is a Ridger hight, Who dwelleth on Chestnut Ridge. And behold, the Ridger hath taken a pen And made a ragged cross, Where the wily clerk hath written " His Mark When he the bond did engross. A ragged cross and a jagged cross, But the holy cross withal ; For on the spot, with an inky blot, A heart-wrung tear doth fall. THE HEADLESS HEART. 173 And behold the clerk, with the cast-iron smirk, The merry bond hath filed ; And the simple wight hath taken his flight To be with his wife and child. And behold ! he hath entered his cabin door, And seeth his babe at the breast Of its mother dead ! on the lowly bed, Where she hath lain to rest. With a shriek, a gasp, a sob, and a sigh, The fainting father doth sink Across the dead, on the lowly bed, That in the cabin doth stink. And there he lieth until the babe Hath taken in its mouth Its father s thumb, and with hot lip and gum Essayeth to slake its drouth. When he awaketh from his swoon, And the babe at his thumb doth espy ; But what to do, he no more doth know, Than why it doth not die ! When lo ! a blast of the wind hath swept past And opened the cabin door And saveth his breath from the stench of death That sickeneth more and more. But what to do, he no more doth know Than the baby at his thumb ; For he hath a heart from his head apart, And in his dole he is dumb. When lo ! a butcher hath driven his herd Of cattle near the door, And the savor of death hath scented his breath, As it never did before. And, with whip in hand, he hath taken a stand, Before the opened room, Where shading his eyes, he with bated breath, pries Into the tainted gloom. 174 THE HEADLESS HEART. Till he seeth the dead on the lowly bed, And the babe at the horny thumb Of the simple wight, in his wretched* plight. As the dead beside him, dumb ! When the blessing of God for aye be its dole, For its timely, timely shriek ! The baby hath wrought in its outcry what Nor father nor butcher could speak ! The baby hath wrought, without reason or thought, All into sweet sympathy, Where the human heart from the head apart Aye throbbeth, and knoweth not why ! And behold the butcher hath entered the room, And taken the babe in his hand, And the father led, from the bed of the dead, Without where he did stand. And he hath seated the simple man Upon a moss-capped stone. And the baby placed to its father s breast, While he for food is gone. And he hath singled, from out his herd, A cow, with a crumpled horn, To be a mother in lieu of another To the babe but newly born. And to a bough, he hath tied the cow, And pressed her yielding teat, And dipped a rag, from his money bag, And given the babe to eat ! Ah, God ! for the father and butcher to see The greed of the starving child ! Till it droppeth the rag of the money bag, And hath fallen asleep and smiled ! The while it sleeps, the father weeps In mingled woe and joy In woe for the dead on the lowly bed, In joy for his living boy. THE HEADLESS HEART. 175 The while the butcher digs a grave, Between two ragged stones, And lays the dead in the earthen bed, While the father sobs and moans. And behold, while the father sobs and moans, The butcher hath entered the door, And the crevices shut of the humble hut, And kindled a fire on the floor. And kindled a fire on the earthen floor, Of herbs and hickorie, That the baby s breath from the stench of death, In the cabin may be free. And in a corner of the room, Some broken twigs across, A bed hath he made, and the baby laid Within a blanket of moss. And he hath taken the father out, Unto the neighboring tree, And taught him how to milk the cow, And the twain a mother to be. And he hath looked again at the babe, And left it a kerchief of silk, To eke out the rag of the money-bag, Till it drinketh of the milk. And he hath taken his whip in his hand, And gathered together his herd, All save the cow, tied to the bough, Which he leaveth without a word. And he hath gone far, far away, Till his home he doth espy With the happy heart, from the head apart. That throbbeth, and knoweth not why. And he hath clasped to his bosom his wife, Within his cabin door, And lengthened his kiss with increasing bliss As never he kissed Before. 176 THE HEADLESS HEART: And he hath taken his toddling babe, And held it in his sight, Till, weeping with joy, he kisseth the boy, With a new found dumb delight ! And he hath slain his herd one by on>e, And sold them in his stall, Till his bag doth not hold what be getteth in gold, Ere he hath killed them all. And he hath taken the bag to the bank r That, when he shall be dead, His wife and boy may never cry In want of daily bread. And he hath dressed his wife in a gowo Of the self-same precious silk; As the piece he laid on the mossy bed, For the baby to suck its milk. Aye, he hath prospered, beloved by all, In sweet, sweet sympathy, Where the human heart, from the head apart, Aye throbbeth, and knoweth not why. The while the wight, the Ridger hight, Doth press the yielding teat Of the gentle cow, tied to the bough, And giveth the babe to eat. The while the wight, the Ridger hight, In faith to keep his pledge, Both daily seek the deadly snake That Hveth on the Ridge. He leadeth the cow with a cautious hand, And holdeth the babe with another ; But, ah God ! as he goeth, he little knoweth, The ri|ks of its double mother ! Until, behold ! he seeth a snake Upon his mountain path, Or, on the ground, lie heareth the sound Of its rattle of ready wrath. THE HEADLESS HEART. 177 When he tieth the cow to a bending bough, And holdeth the babe to his heart, And, knowing no fear, he cometh so near The snake, that it quiv reth to dart ! When, quick as the lightning that daggers the sky, With his naked hand and bare, He seizeth the neck of the deadly snake And raiseth it into the air ! While the lithe, lank form of the flattened snake Doth writhe around his arm, And its rattles shake, as if music to make For the baby its fang cannot harm ! While its rattles shake and music make, Till the baby croweth in joy Ah, God ! the heart from the head apart That taketh a snake for a toy ! While its rattles shake and music make, Till the baby craveth its rag ; When the simple wight, in dumb delight, Casts the snake into a bag A bag which he binds with a hickory string,")* And hangeth about his neck While boundeth his heart, from a head apart, Between the babe and the snake ! And then he goeth to the browsing cow, And presseth the yielding teat, And dippeth the rag of the money bag, And giveth the babe to eat. . But day after day, the season hath sped, Till mid-summer dawns on the morrow, When lacking three feet his bon4 to complete, The Ridger lieth in sorrow. The Ridger lieth in sorrow and dule, And in his wretchedness weeps, While, the twigs across in its blankets of moss, The baby sweetly sleeps. 178 THE HEADLESS HEART. The while, the midnight, musing owl Re-echoeth through the wood, And the gentle cow r beneath the bough r Is chewing at hey cud. When list ! it is the child that wakes In its bed of twigs and moss ; It craveth the rag of the money bag r And giveth it tongue in a toss.J And behold, from bis care-bed the father hath risen, And pressed the yielding teat Of the gentle cow, beneath the bough, And giveth the babe to eat. And while he feedeth bis fretful babe y Christ Jesu ! his blood runneth cold ! For on his arm he feeleth the form Of a monstrous serpent s fold I And on his hand, that holdeth the cup To the lips of his baby boy, He feeleth the feet that his bond will complete, When he warmeth again in joy 1 And on his fingers that guide the rag From the cup to the baby s mouth, Tie feeleth the neck of the deadly snake That slaketh there its drouth 1 Ah, God ! Thy mercy who doth not confess, Before he cometh to die, For the human heart, from the head apart, That throbbeth, and knowetb not why ! Behold this wight, in the dead of night, That findeth a secret joy While he feedeth the snake of deadly make On the lips "of his darling boy ! While from one and the self-same cup of milk, He feedeth life and death, And he findeth a joy in the serpent and boy Till he breathes with bated breath ! "THE HEADLESS HEART. Yea, God ! Thy mercy all must confess, In guiding the father s hand, To his baby s mouth and the serpent s tooth While in darkness he doth stand ! Now, behold, the baby hath slaked its thirst, And croweth with delight, Till it throweth here and throweth there, Its bare arms, in the night ! When, hark ! within its bed of moss The rattle of the snake Beginneth to sound and re-echo around, Till the cabin seemeth to shake ! When the baby ear-charmed withholdeth its hands, And sinketh into sleep ! When the sound decreaseth and finally ceaseth, When the serpent beginneth to creep. Till, behold, it hath crept from the father s hand, And adown his naked arm, And coiled, on the breast of the baby, to rest In sleep, well fed and warm ! The while the father, in the dark, Sitteth still on the earthen floor, And straineth his eye in hope to descry The dawn through the open door ! Until, behold, the eastern ridge ^f With its ragged crest of stone Doth sharply appear, as if cut in the air, By the silver shears of the Dawn ! Until, behold, the eastern sky Is fleshed with a crimson spray, And haired wlth the bright, golden ringlets of light That hang on the brow of the Day ! Until, behold, the eastern vale Is a sea of liquid pearl, With Is it a boat of diamond afloat, Or the eye of a merry girl ! 180 THE HEADLESS HEART. But seeth not this, the simple man, This bright mid-summer s morn, But a serpent at rest on his baby s breast, As if they had been twin- born ! And of all the serpents of death, the King,** With his crown upon his tail, And his sceptre, a tooth, within his mouth, To save a poor wight from jail ! To save a poor wight from a jail, with a cow, To mother his motherless child The only thought of the Ridger, G-od wot, So simple, so haggard and wild ! When, quick as the lightning that daggers the sky, With his naked hand and bare, He seizeth the neck of the deadly snake, And raiseth it into the air 1 When lo! with a startled cry, the babe In terror doth awake Till it heareth in joy the sound of its toy The crown of the regal snake ! Till it heareth in joy the sound of its toy, The crown of the regal snake, And feeleth the clutch, in its simple sire s touch, That maketh that fearful crown shake ! Yea, feeleth that clutch, in a tender touch That holdeth in sympathy, Where the human heart from the head apart, Aye throbbeth, and knoweth not why ! Till lo 1 the babe turneth from its toy, And craveth the nourishing rag, When the simple wight, in dumb delight, Casts the King into jail in his bag ! But let us haste, for ere the sun Hath risen to mid sky, The Ridger must be with the commissioners three, As the bond hath said, to comply. THE HEADLESS HEART. 181 And sixteen miles is a weary walk, On a warm mid-summer s morn, For the browsing cow at the wayside bough, And the gad on her crumpled horn. And sixteen miles is a weary walk, Even for the light foot of joy, That beareth a sack of snakes on the back, And before a suckling boy. Aye, and sixteen miles is a weary way Unto the suckling boy, Although to beguile the lengthening mile, He heareth the sound of his toy. But ere the sun of the midsummer s day, Hath risen to mid-sky Behold ! what wonder appeareth yonder, And cometh the court-house nigh ? Till the children bounding from the school Have gathered in the street Where father and mother and sister and brother, Without knowing each other, meet ! Where the human head, from the heart apart, Aye stare th, and feeleth no tie ; For father and mother and sister and brother, Are known not to the eye ! And behold, the throng of old and young Hath come to the court-house door, To stare at the sight, in broad day-light, That never was seen before ! A brindle cow with a crumpled horn, And a Ridger, haggard and wild, With a sagging sack of snakes on his back, And before, a suckling child ! The while the cow is tied to the pump, And the Ridger presseth the teat, And dippeth the rag of the money bag And giveth the babe to eat ! 182 THE HEADLESS HEART. Until, behold ! in the midst of the throng Agape at the wonderful sight, The babe looketh up from the empty cup, And croweth in delight ! When cheer upon cheer, with increasing good will, Goeth up unto the sky, From the hearts of the young and the old r the throng, In sweet, sweet sympathy ! The while the cow breaketh loose to run. And the Ridger standeth aghast, Between the sack of snakes on his back, And the babe upon his breast ! When lo ! the jailer appeareth to learn The cause of the sudden uproar, And. in dumb affright, he leadeth the wight, Within the court-house door. And so into the commissioners three, In the hall where they merrily sate, With the wily clerk, with the cast-iron smirk Of the devil that grins on a grate ! u But wit," quoth the clerk, wlth the cast-iron smirk u What wanteth this fool with his child ? " For he hath forgot, as a thing of naught. The bond which he hath filed ! Up speaketh then the jailer, I ween, And calleth the bond to his mind ; When the wily clerk, with the cast-iron smirk. The filed bond doth find. And readeth he then the bond again, Unto the commissioners three, While, standing before the office door, The jailer turneth the key. " That on mid-summer s day at noon, The prisoner do not fail, To bring unto the commissioners three, Or else, to go to jail, THE HEADLESS HEART. 183 "For every dollar he oweth for cost, A fool of rattlesnake, Alive and sound, as may be found, For consideration s sake. "To wit: Full one and twenty feet, And a quarter to the nail, With interest, as the bond expressed, The rattles on the tail ! " When behold, the wight, the Ridger hight, While none but the jailer seeth, Hath unslung the sack of snakes from his back And opened it with his teeth. And he hath stepped away from the wall, The commissioners three before, And alive and sound, as may be found, He casteth the snakes on the floor ! Eight regal snakes with their sceptres and crowns, And among the eight, their King, With a crown of a score of rings and more, That above the rest doth ring ! When lo ! the merry commissioners three, Flee in horror and shriek in fear ! While the jailer stands with the key in his hands, And feign eth not to hear ! Till, the first of the three, lo ! upon the desk, He hath taken a frothing fit ; While the next with a rule hath mounted a stool, And in tailor-fashion doth sit ! And the third in vain to the jailer kneels, And prayeth him to unlock ; While the wily clerk, with the cast-iron smirk, Essayeth to climb the clock ! The while, again, the simple man, Doth stand in amaze and affright ; While his suckling boy, at the sound of his toy, Beginneth to crow in delight ! 184 THE HEADLESS HEART! Till, Christ behold ! upon the floor, As the clock is striking at noon, The wily clerk, with the cast-iron smirk 7 Hath fallen in a swoon ! Hath fallen in a sudden swoon, Before the serpent King, When is it the gleam of a slanting beam, Or doth the serpent spring ? When the blessing of God for aye be its dole. For its timely, timely shriek I The baby hath wrought in its outcry what The bitten clerk cannot speak ! The baby hath wrought, without reason or thought,, All into sweet sympathy ; Where the human heart, from the head apart, Aye throbbeth, and knoweth not why ! When quick, as the lightning that daggers the sky Goes the hand of the Kidger hight, Till into the sack he hath put every snake And drawn the closing-string tight. And down he hath knelt beside the clerk, In his deathly swooning dumb r And tied the rag of the money bag About his bleeding thumb ! And, Christ, behold ! he raiseth the thumb, Unto the baby s mouth, Who taketh the rag of the money bag To slake its burning drouth ! Ah, God ! hath ever the like before, Been seen beneath the sun ! Behold ! the blood of the dying, as food, Doth into the living run ! f f Aye, the poisoned blood of the dying, as food, Doth into the living flow To nourish the heart from the head apart, That throbbeth, and nothing doth know ! THE HEADLESS HEART. 185 Aye, the poisoned blood of the foeraan doth flow, As freely, as he is forgiven, Into the mouth of the suckling youth, Like another Saviour of Heaven ! The Babe, God wot, without reason or thought, That knoweth nor life nor death, While, in the heart from the head apart, It throbbeth in simple faith ! Now behold, the baby hath slaked its thirst With the poisoned blood of its foe, And it droppeth the rag of the money bag, With its red red lips to crow ! Till cheer upon cheer goeth up on high, From out the commissioners three ; When the wily clerk, with the cast-iron smirk, Awaketh amazed at their glee ! Till the wily clerk, with the cast-iron smirk, Beholdeth, and asketh why, On his thumb the rag of the money bag, And it red with a bloody dye! For well. I wot, he knoweth not What hath happened in his swoon Aye, even to him in the height of his crime, When the clock struck the hour of noon 1 Aye, even to him in the height of his crime, When, but for his throbbing heart, His wicked head among the dead, Had been in hell set apart ! In hell had been set apart, I ween, The wrongs of his life to recall What he hath done with his head alone, Until his sinful fall ! But let us haste, for well I wot, No man can tether time No, not with the cords which reason affords, Much less with the cobwebs of rhyme. THE HEADLESS HEART. The jailer hath opened the oourt-house door, And hushed the impatient din OF the curious throng of old and young, And told what hath happened within. When cheer upon cheer goeth up again, And the news speedeth through the towo 7 Till behold on the stool of the fool in school The teacher sitteth alone ! The while the merry commissioners three The Ridger hiijht engage To take the sack of snakes on his back And carry it off to the Ridge. And for every snake which he hath brought Unto them, that mid-summer s day, A dollar in gold unto him have they told To take the same away. The while the clerk, with the cast-iron smirk. Hath opened his purse and head, And paid for the rag of the money bag A bogus piece of lead ! A bous piece of lead, God wot, The value of his soul, Which he putteth about the baby s throat With a string drawn through a hole ! And behold, the baby hath taken the lead, And -sucketh it in its mouth And a deadlier bane goeth into its vein Than that of the serpent king s tooth ! The ingratitude of man unto His Saviour in a child ! Till behold, with its heart from its head apart, It hath on the monster smiled ! And behold, the jailer s wife hath come, And many mothers more, And they have dressed the trabe in the best That ever baby wore THE HEADLESS HEART. 187 A linen gown as white as snow, And a change of fleecy sinocks, With a silken hood a9 red as blood. And a pair of worsted socks ! And well, I ween, had these mothers seen, With the eye of the heart and head, That the piece about the baby s throat Is a bogus piece of lead They had taken the clerk, with the cast-iron smirk, And slain him in their wrath ! But among the throng of old and young None seeth the token of death ! And now behold ! the Ridger hight, With victory elate, Appeareth before the court-house door And passeth through the gate. The while, hip, hip, hurrah ! with a will ! Ascendeth to the sky, From the throbbing throng of old and young In sweet, sweet sympathy ! When hark ! the piercing fife resounds, And eke the rattling drum ! What new thing now ? It is the cow That down the street doth come ! It is the cow with the crumpled horn, That yieldeth the babe its milk And what doth deck its gentle neck But a bell on a ribbon of silk ! And while she conieth down the street, And her head she tosseth up, What 18 that that doth gleam in the bright sun-beam Aye, what but a new tin cup ! And again behold, in the midst of the throng, The Ridger presseth the teat, And dippeth the silk into the milk And giveth the babe to eat. 188 THE HEADLESS HEART. And the baby hath taken the butcher s silk, And the white, white milk doth flow, Till, looking up from the empty cup. The baby beginneth to crow ! When another hip and another hurrah. And another and a long, In sympathy goeth up on high From the % throng of old and young. The while the jailer s winsome wife. And many mothers more, Weep tears, I wis, of bale and bliss. As never they wept before. Weep tears, I wis, of bale and bliss, As never they wept again, Save when they weep while at night they sleep, To forget the past day in vain ! Save when they weep, while in bed they sleep, And the Ridger hath sunk to rest, Beside the cow, beneath a bough, With his baby on his breast. With his baby on his breast but alas ! Never sweetly to sleep there again ! For into its blood, ingratitude Hath diffused a restless bane ! What botes it, the babe, its linen gown, And the hood upon its head, And the change of smocks and the worsted socks. While it sucketh the baleful lead ! And what botes it, the father, his wealth of gold. And his freedom from the jail, When his throbbing heart from his head apart Knoweth not what the baby doth ail ! When bale is hext, then bote is next, The proverbf! sayeth in soothe Aye, and when the text putteth bote with hext. And the bale in the baby s mouth ! THE HEADLESS HEART. 189 It is God and the Devil good and evil. Hand in hand in life and death, With Man, I ween, but the waver between The in- and the out-going breath ! But who kuoweth this ! Not the Ridger hight, With his baby on his breast, Beside the cow, beneath the bough, Throughout the long night of unrest. Nor when he to his cabin hath come, And sitteth on the floor, By the bed of moss where the baby doth toss, As never it tossed before. Till, behold, when a fortnight hath come and gone. And the babe hath ceased to fade An the rose of the sun had silently grown To the wax-pipe of the shade ! The father sitteth in silent grief, And holdeth in vain the silk, To slake the drouth of the baby s mouth, With tears, as well as milk ! Till in despair, the simple man, This heart without a head, To cool it, forsooth, in the baby s mouth, He layeth the poisonous lead ! Until, behold, to seek the cow That hath wandered into the wood, The father hath drawn on the baby its gown, And put on its silken hood. And he hath taken the babe in his arms, And passed the cabin door, And followed the bell of the cow, to the dell, He hath never entered before. When lo 1 he seeth the cow through the wood, And that further she wandereth not ; And he cometh upon a moss-covered stone In a cool and shady spot. 190 THE HEADLESS HEART. And behold, he layeth his baby at rest Its heart in the white of faith Its head in the red of the blood by guilt shed - Ou its mouth the lead seal of Death ! And behold, the father upon the moss Doth from his baby creep, That he may not break a twig, and awake It from its sweet, sweet sleep ! But aye, the farther the father doth creep, From his sweetly sleeping child, The farther the cow seemeth at the bough, And the wood groweth more and more wild ! Till, behold, the father hath come to the cow, And pressed the yielding teat, And dippeth the silk in tears and milk To give to his baby to eat ! But he wandereth here and he wandereth there. Through the wood that is strange and wild, And he wandereth in vain to find again His sweetly sleeping child. Day in and day out, he wandereth about, A heart without a head ! But he wandereth in vain to find again The living among the dead ! Year in and year out he wandereth about, And seeketh the loved and the lost, Till, behold, the Heart from the Head apart, In the garb of a grizzled ghost ! A ghost that haunteth the mountain heath, And anon, in the silent gloom, Bendeth Iow to the gronnd as if there he hath found The babe in the wind-flower s bloom. Bendeth low to the ground, but in vain, in vain ! And riseth in grief renewed, Letting fall a tear, now here and now there, Into every flower of the wood. THE HEADLESS HEART. 191 A ghost that haunteth the mountain height Whom seeth not the Eye, But whom the Heart from the Head apart, Aye feeleth, in sympathy. Aye feeleth iu sweet, sweet sympathy, And in sympathy maketh it known ; For the world of the "Heart from the Head apart Knoweth sympathy alone. While the world of the Head is the living dead ; And the living dead is Hell ; As the wily clerk, with the cast-iron smirk, Most wittingly, doubtless, can tell ! * An old term for a spider still in common use in the compound word cobweb, that is, spider-web. t The withe or thong of hickory with which the Ridger mends his harness, ties his shoes, and fastens with generally is called in his vernacular, a string. J The body gives expression to its wants and cra vings without co-operation with the brain. The acts of the body requiring cerebration to those which do not are as one to ten thousand. That the rattlesnake will feed on fresh milk is ac cepted as a fact by the people generally, but whether or not a fact in fact I cannot say. But that this serpent has been found cosily coiled beneath the coverings of a bed in cabins on the ridge, is a verity to be vouched for by many residents of the rocky region of the Little World. Dr. Jackson, in "The Mountain," says of the house- snake of this region, "It frequents out-houses, and is said to drink milk from the farmer s pans in his spring-house." fi The Laurel Hill. ** In the legendary stories of the mountains of Southwestern Pennsylvania, the rattlesnake superior to all others in size, in venom, in number of rattles, and in number of subjects in his den, the stench of which is noxious to the nostril for " more n forty rod, I reckun," is called the King. ft The venom of the rattlesnake is harmless in the stomach. A safe and expedient remedy for the bite of the serpent, accordingly, is suction by means of the mouth an adult spitting out the poisoned blood which the baby Is assumed to have swallowed as nourishment. THE HEADLESS HEART*. The single act of thought in the Ridger in applying the rag of the money-hag to the wounded thumb of the clerk, and then sticking the same in the mouth of the babe, is in accordance with the knowledge of rattle snakes which has been accorded 1 him from the outset the bond of the commissioners, in point. In Hill s novel, "The White Rocks, or the Robbers Den," the witch of the mountains, Molly Pry, sucks out the poison from the hand of Ned Stan ton, saving his life without injury to herself, remarking "The p ison cant hurt me. There aint a tooth in my head, nor has been for ten years. Where they once growed is all healed over and covered Avith gums, so there is no place for p T ison to Kit to my blood, if I only spit it out, an Molly s got sense enough for that." A quart of whisky, however, being the usual remedy, the number of snake-bites in a given locality to the number of snakes is prodigious, and the efficacy of the remedy absolute. t That is, when danger, hurt, or damage is at its height, then is assistance, the remedy, or the recom pense the nearest to the sufferer. It is to be regretted that these good old words, bote and bale, and bale and bliss, in their opposite significations, are passing out of use. Bote as boot in a bargain, and bale and bane in the compounds baleful, baneful, fleabane, ratsbane, etc., are still familiar words. Hext, the superlative of high, is the analogue of next, the superlative of nigh. A famil iar synonym of the obsolete proverb, When bale is hext, then bote is next, is The darkest hour is just be fore the dawn. $* The wax -pipe, Monotropa unifiora, is one of the most notable plants to be found in Uie woods of South western Pennsylvania. Stern, leaf, and flower are color less, semi-transparent, like moulded water and wax. It grows only in the depth of the forest, timidly lifting the e<lge of an overlying fallen leaf to show its ghostly sem blance of a flower in the everlasting shade. Other com mon names of this strange plant are Indian-pipe and bird s-nest. 1830 KING CORK AND JIM CROW. Fiv a curious freak of old Dame Chance, the world is indebted to Southwestern Pennsylvania for both Negro Minstrelsy and Negro Melody: so called Ittcus a lu- cendo because neither originated with the negro, nor has aught of association with the negro, except through KING CORK AND JIM CROW. 193 the oddest of happenings in the ebullition of an envi ronment in which his sable presence was but an appre ciable savor. The first originated with Mr. James Crow a handsome humorist of Blairsville fifty years ago, and long since dead : except his better half, a widow, who, as late as the past winter of 77-8, was in good health in the neighborhood of Freeport, and his mirth which lives like an immortal in the memory of the good old men along the Conemaugh ; the second coming into ex istence as a school of song, to leap from lip to lip around the world, with Stephen C. Foster, of Allegheny City : of whom, more anon. James Crow came into prominence at the opening of the western division of the Pennsylvania canal, in 1880. He was one of the passengers aboard the " Lady Clark," ( in honor of the wife of the Canal Commissioner,) when for the first time in the annals of the Little World, be tween Blairsville and the First Tunnel below, the waters of the west were divided in the rear of a tandem mule- team on a tow-path. And when called upon to contrib ute to the amusement of the party, he responded in his hilarity with a curious combination of rhythmical non sense and fantastic caperings, which, in the general good feeling that prevailed, made a decided and lasting impression the refrain 9f his song and dance on this memorable occasion being the familiar Turnabout; wheel about; do just so! And every time you turn about, jump Jim Crow ! The excursion over, the happy combination of the humorist was carried far and wide by the excursionists by the boatmen being borne down the river to Free- port and thence to Pittsburgh, where the second chapter in the history of Negro Minstrelsy begins. Here, it was the familiar catch of the season, it is to be supposed, chiefly among the boys white and black about the boats at the terminus of the canal and on the wharves of the rivers. When lo! W. D. Bice, a low comedian of Cin cinnati, came to Pittsburgh to fill an engagement, and caught the popular sensation of the place the moment he landed from his boat, (or he had heard the song in Cin cinnati no matter ) to make use of it on the stage soon after with a success that established the descent of Jim Crow as a new school of comedy forever. But be hold the metamorphosis : mistaking the name Jim Crow for a personation of the negro character, " Daddy " Rice blackened his face with burnt cork, and appeared as the counterfeit presentment of the familiar negro porter of Griffith s hotel : in clothes borrowed from Cuff himself, impatiently waiting behind the scenes for the applau.se T94 KJNii CORK AN* I) JIM CROW. feo cease, etc., etc., to a most ludicrous termination, tbs- details of which have been set forth ful^y by iny erudite and accomplished friend, Robert P. Nevin, Esq., in an. article in The AflaatCia,* with never a word, however,, about the barkeeper of MA.n ally s hotel in Blairsville, Sir. James Crow, the observed of all observers on the " Lady Clark " at the opening of the old state eanal the " Old State Bobber, r as those inimical to internal im provements of a nautical natwe had only toe* good rea son to stigmatize it before its waters went into steam im (he boilers of a more advanced corruption.. Of this origin of Negro Minstrelsy in James Crow, a* given above for the first time in print, the writer has the fall and explicit statements of three credible gentlemen who were of the party on the memorable voyage, two of svhom were acquainted with Crow and his family for many years, before- and after ttee occurrence described. Long Hve King Cork, upon the throne of mirth I His crown a wig of wool in fcangled tufts ; His sceptre hsrk ! the banjo and the bones ! His royal word a jocular conundrum ; His gait a shuffle and a walk-around - r His sport a chicken-roost and poke at midnight ; His feast a eorn-cake dipped i<n possum fat ; His every act an antic of such humor, That man must hold his aching sides perforce., Until, within the ringing of his laughter. The echo of the chains of slavery r The falling of the lash, the shriek of pain r And the long sigh of severed souls akin, Upon the earth, may be forever stilled I Aye, aye, long live King Cork, and be his sire Remembered in the record of his realm, The man of mirth to ear and eye, Jim Crow ! The humorist, on board the "Lady Clark," ( That memorable day, this vessel bore Into the western wilds, in pomp and state, The Old State Robber like an eastern king ! ) Who sang and danced and danced and sang until, A King of Comedy, begat his skill ! K1NV, CO-UK AN1> .11 M OIU)\V. 193 * The following is Nfr, Neviti s account of the hid i- crous scene Entering upon duty -at the " Old Drury" of the " Birmingham of America," Rice proceeded to take up his opportunity.. There was a negro in attendance on Griffith s Hotel, in Wood street, named Cuff, an exqui site specimen of his sort, who won a precarious subsist ence by letting his mouth open &, a mark for the boys to pitch pen-nies into, at three paces, and by carrying trunks of passengers from steamboats to the hotels. Cuff was precisely the subject for Rice s purpose^ slight, pursuaskm induced him to accompany the actor to the theatre, where he was led to The private entrance and quietly ensconced behind the scenes. After the play,, Rice, having shaded his own countenance to the contra- band hue, ordered Cuff to disrobe, and proceeded to in vest himself in the cast -off apparel. When the arrange ments were complete, the bell rang, and Rice, habited in an okl coat, forlornly delapidated, and a pair of old shoes, composed equally of patches and places for patches, on his feet, and wearing u coarse straw hat in a. melancholy condition of rent arvd collapse, over a dense black wig of moss, waddled into view. The extraordinary apparition produced an instanta neous effect. The crash of peanuts ceased in the pit, and through the circles passed a murmur and a bustle of the liveliest expectation. The orchestra opened with a short prelude, and to its accompaniment R ice began to sing, delivering the first line by way of iutro> ductory recitative: "Oh, Jim Crow s come to town as you all must know, And he turn about, an wheel about, an do jis so, And ebery time he wheel about, he jump Jim Crow." The effect svas electri-c. Such a thunder of applause as followed was never heard before within the shell of that old theatre. With each succeeding couplet and re frain the uproar was renewed, until presently, when the performer, gathering courage from the favorable temper of his audience, ventured to improvise matter for his distichs from the familiarly-known local incidents, the demonstration was deafening. Now it happened that Cuff, who meanwhile was crouching in deshabille under concealment of a project ing flat behind the performer, by some means received intelligence, at this point, of the near approach of a steamer to the Monongahela Wharf. Between himself and others of his color in the same business and espec ially as regarded a certain formidable opponent called Ginger, there existed an active rivalry ia the baggage 196 KING CORK AND JIM CROW. carrying business. For Cuff to allow Ginger the ad van tage of undisputed descent upon the luggage of the ap proaching vessel, would be not only to forfeit all "con siderations " from the passengers, but, by proving him a laggard in his calling, to cast a damaging blemish up on his reputation. Liberally as he might lend himself to a friend, it could not be done at the sacrifice. After a minute or two of fidgety waiting for the song to end. Cuff s patience could endure no longer, and cautiously hazarding a glimpse of his profile beyond the edge of the flat, he called in a hurried whisper: 44 Massa Rice, must have my clo es! Massa Griffif want me steamboat s comin ! The appeal was fruitless, for a happy hit at an un popular city functionary had set the audience in a roar in which all other sounds were lost. Waiting some mo ments longer, the restless Cuff, thrusting his visage from under his cover into full three-quarter view this time, again charged upon the singer with the same words, but with a much more emphatic voice: 44 Massa Rice, must have my clo es ! Massa Griffif want me steamboat s comin ! " A still more successful couplet brought a still more tempestuous response, and the invocation of the bag gage-carrier was unheeded and unheard. Driven to des peration, and forgetful in the emergency of every sense of propriety, Cult, in ludicrous undress as he was started from his place, rushed upon the stage, and lay ing his hands upon the performer s shoulder, called out excitedly : "Massa Rice Massa Rice! gi me nigga s coat, nig ga s shoes gi me nigga s tings, Massa Griffif want me steamboat s comin ! " The incident was the touch that passed endurance. Pit and circles were one scene of such convulsive merri ment that it was impossible to proceed with the per formance, and the fall of the curtain indicated that the performance was ended. Such were the circumstances, authentic in every par ticular, under which the distinct art of negro minstrel sy was presented. To feed the ancient fire of Love, Required of vestal maids a corps ; So may the flame as sacred prove Though fanned in me byjialf a score. THE SPEOTRE OF THE BUTTONWOOD. 197 1835 THE SPECTRE OF Tf/K BUTTON- WOOD. In a preceding poem, "The Book of Mormon^" these lines occur Man reads not what s without, but what s within. Not what s before, but what s behind his eyeball, Writ in the red ink of his blood and being; and in the poem, "<Q,ueen Aliquippa" For from the heart, the growth -floods go Back to the brain and ear, till Io ! The brain thinks and the ear and eye Perceive naught but hi phantasy; and in the poem, "Prince Gallitzin " Tis not the -eye that sees but the idea. "Or, to express the same i-dea with the license of a poet, I might say with greater force, the eye is in the heart, not in the head: to illustrate which, live following poem, will serve; also, when contrasted with the story of the simple Ridger and his child, told in "The Headless Heart," to show the severance of sympathy the instant feeling is evolved into thought: the differentiation of development separating a father and son, with irnagin- tions as nearly idendtiovl as possible, but with different "histories, so for that the same object in the same light assumes shapes as opposite to them as their fates in crossing the Coaemaugh, the feeble old man wading in safety, while the sturdy youth is drowned: as happened in fact, ;n 1835, at the place indicated, or not, no matter to philosophy and poetry, and no more, I take it, to the tegen-dary history of Southwestern Pennsylvania. "On, oo, my son! While yet the moon looks back Stays in her flight, and, through the parting rack, Beholds with staring eye the storm-king s wrath Cut, like a scythe in grass, a forest swath ; Ere she pursue, behind the rack her flight, We must across the Conemaugh* to-night. " On, oo, my son ! before the storm s brood, nursed Upon the mountain s rocky breast, have burst 198 THE SPECTRE OF THE BUTTONWOOD. Their swaddling bands ; and, with the bounding blood Of headstrong youth, have leaped to join the flood Of manhood might in the Packsaddlef trough The wild, resistless, raging Conemaugh ! t; You stand aghast, my son ! Your flushed cheek? blanch A poplar J in your face upturns a leafy branch ; Your hand s a toadstool to the touch, cold, dank ; Your eye is ice, as lustreless and blank ; And fixed on what? Some dread form shaped, I wist, By fancy in the moonlight and the mist. "Yon buttonwood, || below the ford, in sight, With bole and limb gaunt, eldritch, weird, and white. Dost see in it, my son, a spectral form ? The image of the phrensied, threatening storm ? Or grizzled ghost, with bony outstetched arm. Foreboding, with prophetic gesture, harm ? Or forest apparition of King Lear ? His curse upon his daughters, dost thou hear Within the wind, that, while he raves and grieves. Trembles and rustles in his crown of leaves ? Or is it Kiihleborn, grim, heartless, mean, Pursuing yet the soul-accursed Undine His angry threat, deep in bis rage-choked throat. Within the gurgle at the great tree s root ; Behind yon bridal veil of mist, her shriek TTT* . t .1 * 1- 1_ * 1 T^ Art * ^.-m " Stay, father, stay. The outward form may pass From sire to son as in a living glass Head, hand, and foot the brain, the blood of fire ; But never back again from son to sire ! E am thy likeness, father, part for part ; THE SPECTRE OF THE BUTTONWOOD. 199 I have thine eye ; but thou hast not my heart ! Hadst thou my history within thy breast, Chilled to the core, as I, thoudst stand aghast ; Hadst but one page emblazoned with my blood, Thoudst wait and welcome the erasing flood ! One scene thoudst see, with staring eye or shut, The rav nous sense of sight for aye would glut ; One sound thoudst hear, with eager ear or dull, That even dead, would echo in thy skull : Thoudst see the misty moonlight s glazed gloom The shaded lamplight in the curtained room ; The gaunt white bole and branches of yon tree A woman dying in her love for me Her wasted arms upheld my neck to clasp And stiffen in a wild despairing grasp ! Thoudst hear the hurrying wind her broken breath Half speak farewell and leave the rest to Death The gurgle of the river at the root, The vain attempt of Death within her throat ! Nay, stay ! The light of life has left her eye 1 Stay ! Close it as the clouds close in the sky ! Stay ! Wind around the corpse the endless shroud As wraps about yon tree the misty cloud ! Stay ! Spread the black cloth with due pomp and form ; And ring the bell to call the hungry worm ! Stay, father, stay ; I grope within the grave ; Oh, is t so dark thou canst not see to save ! " But in the ford the father s ear is stone He hears nor cry for help nor drowning moan ; But in the ford the father s legs are weak, And aid of staff and drooping branches seek To save him from the rising, swelling tide, And place him safely on the other side. Now, on the bank, he turns to see his son, With sturdy leg and long, think it but fun To stalk across the widening, watery way, And with the passing driftwood play. But, in the hazy moon s dissolving beam, 200 THE SPECTRE OF THE BUTTON WOOD 1 . He sees his son sink in the swelling stream His arms appearing once above the flood To meet the Spectre of the Buttonwood ; While bubbles, in the circling, seething foam, His last words utter, i; Love ! I come t I eome ! rr This is the butte-nwood. What, stranger, start ! What sudden pang has seized thy hidden heart ? Dost see the old man in the blasted tree With supplicating arm and bended knee The moonbeam glistening ir> his upturned eye His son in shroud of foam qick drifting by ? Art thou or sire or son ? or both in one ? Hast thou another s heart vrithin thine own ? Canst in the sentient mirror of thy soul Both see and feel another s joy or dole ? Thou canst I Then see with me T both son and sire, The world engulfed in cunacuzaambient fire ; Burnt to an ash in all its vital parts Charred to the centre of its heart of hearts ! * "Quin-nrm-mough-koong, or Can-na-mangh, or Otter Creek, as the name signifies." McCullough. | From a fancied resemblance to the paeksadtlle of fhe pioneers, the gap or gorge through which the Cone- TTiangh traverses the Chestnut Ridge is called the Pack- saddle. Through this famous gap in the olden time the Pennsylvania Canal passed, to be followed by its great successor, the Pennsylvania Kailroad of to-day. t Theabele, or silver-leaf poplar, Populits alba, the Jeaves of which are dark green above and very white- downy beneath. "Nothing can be more striking than the contrast between the upper and lower surface of the leaves." Wood. || The American plane, sycamore, or button wood, [ Platanus occidentalis, 1 is found on the streams at the bn.se and on the table-lands of the A.lleghanies, but not on its summits. Its snow-white stems, mingled with the sombre hemlock, forms one of the finest and most striking contrasts in nature." Jackson. The whiteness of the trunk and branches is owing to the annual separ ation of the bark in large scales, leaving the surface so smooth that a squirrel cannot ascend it. DR. R. M. S. JACKSON. 201 DR. R. M. S. JACKSON. " In 1838 Dr. Jackson, a man of singular but erratic genius, who became a distinguished physician in West ern Pennsylvania, and died surgeon-in-chief of the Army of the Cumberland soon after the battle of Look out mountain near Chattanooga, in 1863, made a dis covery of great importance, but one not appreciated for u good many years afterward. After examining with eyes from the glance of which nothing escaped, and with a brain never excelled every iron ore bank in Nittany Valley, Brush Valley, Penn s Valley, Sinking Creek Valley and Kishacoquillas Valley, he came to the conclusion that the brown-hematite ( limonite ) ore of these valleys belonged to the stratified limestone beds themselves, and had been set free from them by chem ical and mechanical decomposition. This view was not only new and strange to the iron masters and miners of the region, but was opposed to the prevailing feeling of the chief geologist, and not publicly accepted by him." LESLEY. What broad-browed man is this, that, standing in The vale erect, o ertops the mountain s height ? What chaos this that girts him like a cloud ? What cosmos this, evolving from his hand ? What logos this that launches from his lips In tones that still the tempest s roar and thunder ? Stand by his side, Man, if thou wouldst know Of time but in the heart-beat of an eon ! Of space but as the scope of thy existence ! For, in the brain, behind yon broad-browed blazon, The Soul of Science seethes in silence in An endless ebullition of creation ! 1838 MOLL DELL. So great was the belief of the people of Somerset county in the supernatural powers of this old woman, that, in the generalizing language of my informer, she 202 MOLL- DELL.- kept a whole township digging for a gold mine for a life- Time till the excavations made looked like an ineom- pleted railroad struck by Mghtning! A witch ! And lo F the shimlacrmn of The Soul of Science* melts into a mist That sinks upon the soil of Somerset i The circle of the sorcerer surrounds The Little World of Appalachia ; The sun s obscured ; the moon awry and monstrous ; The earth is the abode of newts and bats, The baneful hemlock, f jimso-n weed, J and rhus ;|{ A Brief voo Gott hangs on the cabin s wall To save from fire and thieves and pestilence; The mirror of the screened erdspiegel^f tells Of the unknown within the earth and air; The forked crutch of hazel and of peach** Sinks wells for oil and water by the thousand ;~ The sacred symbol of the yoni hangs Above the doorway, in the horseshoe s form, To save the inmates of the hall and hovel From every evil influence an-d harm That might attend an angry witch s charm The human heart, within the name Moll Dell, Ts rotten in the grave of SIB in hell ! * Dr. R. M.S.Jackson. i Conium mactilatum the poison which Socrates is said to have drank. J The Jamestown weed, corrupted to Jimsonweed, or thorn-apple, Datura stramonium is one of the poisonous plants introduced with civilization into Southwestern Pennsylvania. " If you eat the burr of a jimsonweed," the boys say, "you will see all the Indians that ever lived in the country." || The oak-ivy, Rhus toxicodendron v.radicans, a plant emitting a poisonous effluvium. g During the great fire in Meyersdale, in 1875, a "Let ter from God" was placed in a building in advance of the flames and, curiously, as T am informed by acred- ible gentleman, the fire was checked at that particular house! During the past year, I observed one of these curious old German charms against fire and pestilence, witchcraft, disease, and evil in general, above a large T-HE WITCH OF "WESTMORELAND. 203 ironsafein owe of the best bowses in Westmoreland county. It was over a hundred years old, In good pres ervation., and beyond price, f The erdspiegel, or witch s looking-glass, is still in use among the superstitions in Southwestern Pennsyl vania. In 1875, a little -boy *iam<8d Ankeny was lost ou the Laurel Hilt, east of Ligonier, when a, witch of Somerset county, who had/in her possession an erdspie gel, was sent for, that she might see exactly where he was and direct aright the hutadreds who had gathered from far and near to the scene of distress on the moun tain. Upon her arrival, she looked into her glass con cealed in the bottom of a-tolack bag; but the presence oi an unbeliever in the throng so becloaded the mirror that the child has not been seen to this day. ** The use of the diviner s rod in searching for water, oil, and minerals of value is very common ia Western Pennsylvania. It surpasses belief the fortunes which have been squandered in the oil regions in the absolute trust of the ignorant and greedy in the preten sions of the oil-smellers to locate wells directly over seas of oi 1. 1838 THE WITCH OF WESTMORELAND. While on the subject of witches * A witch ? God have mercy 1 Fll warrant a hag So old that the devil himself cannot tell When the crooked and wrinkled and twisted zigzag Of a wry-mouthed old spinster was first leagued with well 1 "Lord! no sir! She s only a year old to-day, And as round and as red and as sweet as a peach ! And the wonder is, not when she leagued as you say, But that heaven could spare such a witch of a witch ! " 204 THE WITCH OF WESTMORELAND. "Well, what can she do, this quintessence of evil This perversion of age in her wicked profession ? I presume she can ride on a broom like the devil, And crawl thro the keyhole to secret con fession ?" " No ! Csesar Augustus ! she rides in a gig, Or is carried about in the gentlest of arms ; And crawl thro a keyhole why, man, she s this big ! And the doors open wide in the face of her charms ! " "Well, seeing s believing but what of her cat, With its yellow eyes, hump-back, and tail up, and grin, As big as a barn and as black as a hat The witch s select incarnation of sin ! " " Her cat? Why, my friend it is yet but a kitten, As white as the snow and as soft as old silk ; Nor devilish, save an occasional fit, Which our doctor is treating with sulphur and milk!" " Well, what of her figures in wax I suppose. She has or does something of which I have read? Can she melt off the point of a fair lady s nose, And open the eyes and the mouth of the dead ? " " Can she melt off the point I have seen her myself Melt three or four noses to nothing at all ; And I ve seen her quite often, the mischievous elf. Make a dummy of gum move its eyes yea, and squall ! " A TOAST TO WOMAN. 205 4i And of course, then., you ve seen this remarkable witch Mat the manes of the horses and tie the cows^ tails., Sour the milk m the churn, and give one the itch Tid he scratch iike the -devil and pray for his nails?" "Well, ao ; not exactly; but this I will swear, I ve seen her tie knots and I never could loose em Yes, the tightest of knots in my beard and my hair; And as for sour milk, just behold my shirt- bosom ! 7 " Ah, yes ; now I take yes, you mean yea, I see; Well, no matter expect me to see her at dinner, With my bell, book, and candle to save at least cne From the spell of the witch and the hell of the sinner. " " Yes, come, and your whole end of town bring along, And I ll show you this witch in the arms of my wife The proudest of mothers a million among, And the happiest father you ve seen in your life!" I drink to the woman aglow with the fire, That burns on the altar eternal of Love ; A spark from whose eye inflames man to aspire To wield for her glory the lightning of Jove ! 206 THE STORY OF POOR LITTLE SUE. 1840-2 THE STORY OF POOR LITTLE SUE. A memento of the Washingtonian temperance revi val in Southwestern Pennsylvania, in 1840-2. What a night may do, My child, for you, Nobody knows ; But list to the story of poor little Sue, And when you pray To heaven, say " God grant that I may share my joys With other children girls and boys Who have perhaps her woes ! " " It is the killdeer s* cry ! And that another ! I know it, mother ; For all the evening, Benny and I Were chasing Them round the pond Anp Sanquo racing ! You couldn t tell He had but three legs till he tripped and fell, Over Benny s sled, And into the water went heels over head, Where he couldn t - 1 - straight, bu round Before he found The bottom and reached dry ground ! Oh, it was such fun To scare the kildeers to see them run. And to see them fly, And scream whenever they d pass us by ! I laughed and shouted, and Benny stoned Till he couldn t see to throw at all It was so dark, And he so tired, That, in the mud when he was mired, He was so scared he had to bawl ! THE STORY OF POOR LITTLE SUE. 207 And Sanquo began to whine and bark ! Dear me ! little Benny s asleep on his chair ! How father will laugh to see him there ! But, mother, why don t he come? I am so hungry ! and poor little Ben I could scarcely keep him stoning ! but then, I knew there was nothing to eat at home Till father would come from the store ! Why is it, mother, we are so poor? And father was never so late before ? " ^Hush! hush! My child, it was a startled bird I heard ; But hush ! Without his bowl of mush, I will put little Benny to bed. Kiss him good night don t bump his head ! ( Dear boy, he is wasted with sickness and hunger ; Beyond this cold night, can he live any longer ! ) Now, Sue, Do you Say your prayers for both ask God to grant What you want : Your father to come And make heaven your home ! Good night, my child a kiss there another And One for your father and one for your brother. Now sleep oh, sleep in ignorant bliss Of the trouble that trebbles my trembling kiss ! " It was a startled killdeer s cry. But the hot tears welled in the mother s eye, As she took a shawl, Ragged and torn, from a hole in the wall, And tucked it about her children two, Father-like Benny and mother-like Sue. With listless love she tucked it about, With her head from her hands afar, But not her heart, As if she heard the distant shout 208 THE STORY OF POOR LITTLE SUE. Of the maddened revel and crazed rout, And in the midst of the tumult and jar, But of the tumult a thing apart To her as a distant star, A shriek recurring I and then the laughter Of twenty demons coming after f While the poisoned cups were passed and quaffed,, And one still shrieked and the others laughed ; While the cold wind b * w through tbe hole in the wall On the shivering woman without fire or shawl 1 " It is the hooting of an owl ! Look, mother ! I see it through the window-pane ! It sits on the sill f And oh, so still ! Do catch it for brother Ben If you can ! The light of the candle is full in its eyes ; And how it twits Its little ears no bigger than kit s Oh, don t it look like a cat in disguise ! Ah, there it flies ! Old Sanquo has scared it away with his howl ! How sad little Benny to-morrow will be That I did not awake him the owl to see ! But father will tell him a story, I know, Of a witch or a fairy who long ago, In the shape of a cat with chicken wings, Did many strange and wondrous things A story worth forty owls like that, That only could look liko a frightened cat ! Little Benny how cold he grows ! And breathes " strangely and picks at the clothes ! Father, dear father I wish he would come ! I wonder, dear mother, if father knows How we love him and miss him at home ? Or why every evening away he goes " THE STORY OF POOR LITTLE SUE. 209 "Hush! hush! It was an owl but do not push Little Benny against the wall ; Pull up the shawl Over his arm Lie close to him, darling, and keep him warm. (But what a strange smell J to his breath Or is it his clothes the musk From the rat || Sanquo killed at the pond at dusk ? O God ! let it bode not of death !) There, turn your eyes, Sue, from the flickering light; And again, for your father and brother, Kiss your mother Good night While the village bell Strikes the midnight hour with a sullen blow, Measured and slow, As if ringing a knell ! " It was the owl perhaps the mother Or one and th other That waked the child. But there was an echo in the sound, So wild, - So weird and eldritch and inhuman, Could not be found In screech of owl and wail of woman ! An echo, of a distant brawl, Winding through the hole in the wall Of a cask upturned, the surer and quicker To drain the last drop of its poisoned liquor Of the curse of the maddened drunken throng, As, over the cup half-filled at the bung, They quarrel and fight ; While the gaping wound And the blood that reddens the beaten ground Are hid in the blackness of night ! "Is it to-morrow, dear mother, already? The cock is crowing yes, yes, that s Neddy ! I know his crow, so loud and long, THE STORY OF POOR LITTLE SUE. As if he were going to sing a son** ! Old Neddy, that father has promised to buy, When he is- rich, that Benny and I. When Christmas comes, can each have a feather From his Ion? tail, to play soldier together I But it cannot be morning ao<i father not here \ And you up all the night? Come, mother, dear.. Come, come to bed For Benny is chill, And he lies so still, I m afraid to- touch him for fear he is dead ! But hark I It is father, dear mother, I hear at the gate ! But why does Sanquo, though father come late r So wildly bark ? And why does father so straagely curse The poor old dog nay, worse and worse, Old Sanquo kill ! For after that yelp he is so still l r Hush ! hush f my child ; tis a stranger s walk Another s another s and list ! they talk ! What is t they say ? O God ! who shall speak The words that a widow and orphans make ! r Hush 1 hush ! my child ; little Benny has gone ! You will soon be lefc in the world alone ! Your father s without on a drunkard s bier ! And your starved mother is dying here ! Good night a kiss, my child, for your brother, And one for your father and one for your mother ! " The killdeer when startled at eve will cry With a plaintive voice and shrill ; The owl to the night-watcher s window will fly And hoot as it sits on the sill ; The cock will crow at the dawn ; True But maiden, or mother, or grandmother Sue, Wrinkled and wan, Will never hear THE "STORY OP POOR TITTLE SUE. 2 With childhood s ear Their uotes alone : The killdeer will shriek, MI wild affright, With the voice of her mother that terrible .night ; The owl will echo the mournful knocks Of the froeen clods on the wooden box That hid little Benny, her brother, Her father and mother, And Sanquo forever from sight ! While the cock will crow in the morn With the sound of the awful horn That will herald the Judgment Day, When, Father and mother, Sister and brother Will come together Their sins forgiven, To dwell in heaven Alway ! * Yes, Sanquo will be in heaven, too, On four legs, my child, with Benny and Sue Amenl * "From its peculiar note, the Killdeer vociferus, ] is one of the few birds of our country known to all classes and ages of the people." 8. F, Baird. f This is assumed to be th-e mottled or screech owl, Scops asio, the most abundant of the owls inhabiting the United States, an<i one in which the ear-tufts are con spicuous. The incident of the owl alighting on the sill and looking like a cat at tfre light through the window- pane, I received from the distinguished ornithologist, the lamented friend of my boyhood, John Cassin, of Philadelphia, J The musky odor of dissolution is so strong some times that it may be detected by the human nostril an hour or more before death, and several hours before and at a great distance by the infinitely keener nostril of the dog. From this has arisen the saying that the howling of a dog at the door of the sick, indicates the approach of death. II The musk-rat, Fiber zibethicus, very common in Southwestern Pennsylvania. 212 THE JESTER OF OLD KING COAL. 1844- THE JESTER OF OLD KING COAL. In the year 1844, Dr. Alfred T. King, of Greensburg, drew the attention of the scientific world to Southwest ern Pennsylvania, by the publication of his discoveries several years before in this region, to wit, certain foot prints, across mud- or sun-cracks, and the pitting of a shower of rain, in several slabs of rock found between two seams of coal in the neighborhood of Pleasant Unity, Westmoreland county, furnishing indisputable evidence of the existence of air-breathing vertebrates upon the planet during the carboniferous age, and con- traverting, accordingly, the prevailing geologic theory of the time to the contrary, namely, that no air-breath ing animal could have lived in the atmosphere, sur charged with carbonic acid gas and fatal to animal life, which was necessary to furnish the requisite pabulum of the extraordinary plant-growths of that period. Subse quent discoveries have verified the deductions of Dr. King with respect to the foot-prints of the batracho- saurian of his publication Thenaropus heterodactylus. The slabs containing these foot-prints, are pictured in several of the standard works on geology. One was car ried to England in 1846, by Sir Charles Lyell, who visit ed Greensburg to satisfy himself of the authenticity of the tracks and the measures in which the stones were found; a second is in the Academy of Science in Phila delphia (?); while the third is in the hands of the wri ter: a very unpoetical-looking stone as it stands in a corner of his study, but the factor in his environment, nevertheless, that has fathered the following to a mother of morbid feeling but faintly portrayed in the poem. It was the merry month of May, A morning warm and bright : The dewy gem on the budding stem Shone with the diamond s light. The cat-bird,* in the alder-bush, A mime of music made Of the ripple and dash and the trickle and splash Of the rock-rill s wild cascade. THE JESTER OT OLD KING COAl,. 213 The bee, in the scent of the summer s sweet, Hummed hopeful from bud to bud, And the painted troutf darted in and out, In -sport in the sparkling flood, "The winter, the night, and the cloud -were gone. The world was warm and bright ; E en the Sorrow of earth seemed changed into Mirth ; And Death ioto -dancing Delight, Aye, the Dea-d with the Quick seemed tx) clasp in joy, And around m a waltz to go ; All all, save one, who sate alone In wretchedness and woe, A man in the ^nora of die May-day of life, But worn with grief and care : An J the winter s sky beclouded his eye, And the hoar-frost whitened his hair. When the world was glad, he alone was sad, In a winter s night of gloom, As he sate on a sod, ia the acre of Grod, Aad -moaned and wept o er a tomb Where years ago, but as yesterday. To the woe that notes not time, He had buried ttie wife of his Spring of life.. And the so-n of his Summer s prime. And with them, his heart, his hope, and his aim^ His future with the past : For as the Spring sows, the Summer grows, And the Autumn gathers at last. 6" When hark ! the sound of a merry voke, Sympathetic, steady, and strong, The sob suppressed in the weeping man s breast. And attuned his soul to song. "It was Old King Coal, was a jolly old soul, And a jolly old soul was he ; He called for his pipe, and he called for his bowl, And his fiddlers, one, two, three. 214 THE JESTER OF OLD KING COAL. "And when he had smoked and quaffed his fill. And heard his fiddlers three, He shook in his hall and began to bawl For his jolly old jester in me ! " For this jolly old jest of the King on his throne ; His sceptre of power, this bauble ; His golden crown, this cap of a clown, And his wisdom, this gibble-gabble ! || " But Hey ! daddle-diddle, the cat and the fiddle. The world and his wife are apes, Looking, each in the glass of the other s face, And turning to opposite shapes ! "The King on his throne shall prove a clown, And the wisest man a fool, And the fool a sage when he overtakes age To kick, like a football, his skull ! " When lo ! a little, old miner appeared On his shoulder, a pointed pick Begrimed with soot from head to foot On his cap a burning wick. A little, old man in the Winter of life, But as bright as the bursting bud : An the Spring s morning sky beamed in his eye, And the Summer s sun warmed his blood. "What, ho ! my lad, thy soul is sad," The little, old miner said, With a look of surprise in his sparkling eyes, And a toss of his dust-dyed head. "Because, forsooth, thou hast buried thy youth. Must thou bury thy manhood s might, And the merry old age of the satisfied sage, Who sees in the darkness the light. " Come along with me, and thou shalt see, That Man gathers as he gives ; Yea, my lad, that Man with the world began, And that as he dies, he lives. THE JESTER OF OLD KING COAL. 215 " As the one revolves, the other evolves, Like a part within a whole His body a part of the world s throbbing heart, His life of the world s sentient soul. " Come along with me, and thou shalt see, That the world as it rolls about, In the multiple forms of its wheedling worms, Is but turning itself in and out Till Winter and Summer and Autumn and Sring, Since first the world began, Like a model of weather are mingled together, And involved in a second self, Man ! "Till, Hey ! daddle-diddle, the cat and the fiddle, Who best in the world can sing, But the satisfied sage in the Winter of age, Who sees himself dancing in Spring ! " Come along with me, and thou shalt see, As he only can see the light Of the sun afar in the twinkling star, Who looks in the darkness of night. "Aye, Hey ! daddle-diddle, the cat and the fiddle, He best of heaven can tell, Who lies on his back and looks up thro a crack, From the depth of the damn dest in hell ! "Come along with me and thou shalt see, In the grave of thy son and wife, That as thou hast laid thyself with the dead, Thou hast risen into life ! " Astounded, aghast, from the grave of the Past, The weeping man rose, weak and white Like the tender sprout when it first peeps out Of the dark world into the light. And with faltering steps, he followed behind The Jester of Old King Coal, With the pointed pick and the burning wick, Till they came to a deep, black hole. 2T6 THE JESTER OF OLD KING COAE. A deep black hole in the crust in the earth. Where the whe^l went rouod and roundl And the iron cage like youth and age Went up and down in the ground. Where all was worry and bu??y and 1 flurry, Amog a busy throng Of earth-born elves, seeing only themselves*. As they saag the Miner s Soag. Dig ! dig f dig f dig f In the dead of night and alora-e r With a pointed pick and a waning wick. In a world that has turned to stone ! Dig ! dig f dig I dig I As thou hast begun at birth r A shadowy form in the semblance of wormy Recreating a su and an earth t Pig ! dig I dig ! dig ! Till the wick expires with a breath, And the pick turns to rust with a skull-full of dust , In the grave Life has dug for Death ! Where all was- worry and hurry and flurry, The jester aad mourner came, And while the elves saw only themselves, They stepped in the iron frame. " Ha I here we go down I down I down I" The old man said and laughed, " Thro r many a fold of our mother mould That is pierced by this vertical shaft, " Ha ! and here we go back I back ! back ! In our descending cage, From the last quiv ring ray of the living to-day To the dead carboniferous age. THE JESTER OF OLD KING COAL. 217 Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! we go down and back, From the present struggle and strife, Like two worms, in our cage, piercing page after page Of the musty old Ledger of Life I^f " Until, lo ! with a thump we have come to the sump, In the depth of our worm-eaten hole, Two shadowy forms in the semblance of worms, In the court of Old King Coal ! " Singing, Hey ! daddle-diddle, the cat and the fiddle, The jester danced and laughed ; While, staring aghast in the gloom of the past, The mourner shook in the shaft. " Nay, shake not, my lad," the old man said, " At these files of upright posts, That stand in the gloom of this regal room, Like a guard of grizzled ghosts. "For they are with us of the earth of to-day, The living among the dead ; In the fungus that grows on these sentry rows, See the hairs of the hoary head.** " See the hairs of the hoary head that appear "When the lamp of thought is lit, And the quaking and quick see themselves ^^ a pick At work in their own charnel pit. "Nay, shake not, my lad, in affright and dread, At the fungus on the post, Tho in it thou stare at the first grey hair That reveals in thee living, thy ghost ! " Have courage, my lad ! Yea, be merry and laugh, Till, in thy gasping breath, Thou seest a host of friends in these ghosts, And a jolly good fellow in Death ! "Yea, till Death appear in this terrene tomb, With the wagging beard in glee Of Old King Coal, with his pipe and bowl, His fiddlers, and jester in me ! 218" THE JESTER Of OLD KING COAL. Singing Hey ! daddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle- While the lamp of thought is lit, He lives a fool who kicks not his skull As a ball in the field of his wit. " Have courage, ray lad ! Yea, be merry and laugh r For, live in the air or earth, With a waning wick and a pointed pick, Thou but diggest thy grave from> thy birth ! "Aye, with haloes of heaven surround thy head,. And with halidoms hedge thy heart, The shadowy form will still change its form, While the living and dead never part ! " Come, come, my lad ;. let us dig together, For dig as dig we may, With a waning wick and a pointed pick r We but turn over our own clay. " Come, come the worm but changes ks form ; There is nothing gained oy lost T The earth i& itself but a changeling elf In the arms of a gadding ghost 1 r The jester said, as he walked before, And the mourner followed after Like the shadow of night that follows the light, And the silence that follows laughter. The jester said as he walked before, Light and laughter in a tomb, Turning here his wick and there his pick, As he went from room to room. The jester said, in the court of King Coal, With the bauble and cap of mirth, Turning night to light and death to breath Recreating a sun and an earth ! o The jester said and the mourner saw Till his brain in bewilderment whirled, At the infinite range of forms wondrous and strange That shadowed and shaped the old world ! THE JESTER OF OLD KING COAT,. 219 Ferns, mosses, and crollsff looming up into trees; Reeds spearing themselves into space ; And spreading pines with bristling spines Hedge-hogging their way thro the mass ! Winged dragons,^ like clouds, with jaws and claws, O ershadowing steaming pools, Where, afloat like logs, lay huge crocodile-frogs, And sharks swam about in schools ! The mourner saw till sight became sound And the jest-er began to sing, From slow to fast, and from low to a blast That made the cavern ring. " Singing, Hey ! daddle-diddle, the eat and the fiddle. The worm walked in the sun, And, as it passed a shadow it cast To be turned at its heels into stone, " And as it has been, it is, and will be ; The worm goes on and on, From change to change in an infinite range, Rolling after itself in stone * Rolling after itself in a world of stone The heart with all it feels, And the head with the wit that evolves from it> All hard on the hurrying heels ! " Singing, Hey ! daddle-diddle, thc cat aud the fiddle, The crotchets of king and clown, With their shadows that fall on the palace wall, Shall come behind them in stone ! " Till the rocks sha11 be rippled with smile Ul>on smile, And the Future stare aghast At the wonderful forms of the merry old worms That sang and danced in the Past "Of Old King Coal, with his pipe and bowl, And his fiddlers, one, two, three, When, to laugh over all, he began to bawl For his jolly old jester in me ! 220 THE JESTER OF OLD KING COAL. " Why, mark thou, my lad, " said the merry old man, Re-trimming his waniqg wick, When, turning around in the hole in the ground, He plied his pointed pick. He plied his pointed pick, until A great rock parted in twain, When, behold ! a track and a trampled sun-crack, And above all the spatter of rain ! " Why, mark thou, my lad ; the worm that made This track in the olden time Was a goggled-eyed frog that crept out of a bog In a coat of grey-green slime. " For the frog would a- wooing go, as frogs will, When up came a sudden rain, And drove the beau back across the sun-crack, And into the bog again ! " And the rain continued until the bog Rose above the sun-burnt brim, And with its flood encased in mud Track, crack, and rain for all time. "That the Worm, looking back upon the track Which it made as a frog in the rain, Shall never despair to leave somewhere The track which it makes as a Man ! " The track which it makes as a Man the worm That has crept away from the bog, And raised its head, till it stands o er its dead, On the hindfeet alone of a frog 1||| "The breath which he breathes in the open air, His laughter and his groan, E en the subt lest thought in his phantasy wrought, Shall roll at his heels in stone ! "Singing, Hey ! daddle-diddle, the catand the fiddle, The Jester of Old King Coal, With the world that began with himself in Man, To the end of both, shall roll ! " THE JESTER OF OLD KIXG COAL. 22!i. And the jester danced with a lighter step l Up and down in the dusty room, Till the waning wick and the pointed .pick Gleamed in the upper gloom Gleamed in the upper g!oom of the mine. Where the fire-damp held its breath, - When a lightning flash and a thunder crash .Announced .King -Coal as Death ! The old man fell on the $oor of the mine, His wiok goine; out with his wit, .And his pick, in his -skull, sinking senseless aBd d-ull In the grave it had dug in the pit 1 While the mourner fell on the old man s corse, His head above the flood ^ Of the after-damp rolling back to the swamp Like a stream of envenomed blood. And there he lay till the resoner came, Thro the crevice above the mass That fell in the room from the upper gloom, Where the flickering wick fired the gas. And there he lay till the rescuer came, And -carried him rato the light, Among the elves who forgot themselves With the presence of Death in their sight, When lol two -doctors came riding posthaste, With their lancets drawn out of the sheath, When, horse to horse, they met in their course. And bled ooe another to death J And lo ! two lawyers, ra wigs and gowns, Came in great pomp and state, When, each breaking a jaw in expounding the law, They divided the mourner s estate ! And lo ! two preachers came, solemn and grave, And upon their marrowbones fell ; When, the mourner forgiven, they sent him to heaven, And each other damned to hell ! 222 THE JESTER OF OLD KING COAL. - And two undertakers, with coffins and crape, Came along as silent as sin, Till, hearing their knocks on each other s box, They called out politely, Come in ! Two worms, in short, in different shapes, Unable their greed to smother, Met under the form of their fellow- worm, And began to devour one another ! "When, breathing again the air of to-day, And feeling the warmth of the sun, The mourner, aghast at his dream of the past. Awoke from the world of stone. When all the shadowy shapes of his dream Sank into the depth of the hole, Where, holding his breath in the presence of Death. Lay the Jester of Old King Coal. With arm and leg enfeebled and cramped, The mourner rose from the sod, And stood on the dead beneath him laid In the world-wide acre of Grod. When back came the thoughts of his dream of the past. To solace and strengthen his soul Like an echo in sound of a voice in the ground The Jester of Old King Coal. The Jester of Old King Coal in himself, Deep down in the shaft of the earth, That round and round whirled in the Little World That began its course with his birth. And behold ! in the morn of the merry May-day, When the sun shone warm and bright, The Sorrow of earth was turned into Mirth, And Death into dancing Delight ! For the tear, in the eye of the weeping man. Gleamed in the light of the sun, Like the dewy gem that spangled the stem, Ere it passed into mist and stone. THE JESTER OF OLD KING COAL. 223 And the sob, in the breast above the grave, Assumed the tuneful tone Of the cascade note from the cat-bird s throat, Ere it sank into silence and stone. While the leg and the arm, enfeebled and cramped, With the might of mirth moved on Like the bee and the trout as they darted about, Ere they sped out of sight into stone. And the mourner lived, like a Winter s corse With a May-day morning s soul, Till, holding his breath in the presence of D3ath, Like the Jester of Old King Coal He sank into stone, with his bauble and cap, That the Future might stare aghast At the wonderful forms of the merry old worms That sang and danced in the Past. * Mimus Carolinensis, vel felivox. " It something of the faculty of mimicing other birds, and is often heard using notes of their songs mingled with its original lay." Jackson. " I am inclined to believe that he possesses no original note of his own, but ac quires and modulates the songs of other birds." Nut- tall. Again and again, I have listened to the rolicsome, tumble-down song of this remarkable songster, and can compare it to nothing more appropriate than the rock- rill s wild cascade, rippling and splashing, trickling and dashing over and under the unequal rocks in a ravine on the mountain s side. t " Far up in the mountain rivulets, even to the spring as it escapes through the fissures of the rock, this species [the brook-trout, Salmo fontinalis,] climbs. Wherever fresh water, especially cold spring-water, is found in sufficient quantity to immerse their bodies, they abound in hole and eddy, in pool and rapid, and it is wonderful how they thread their way up the moun tain side through the swift-rushing streams, over falls boiling through rocks, roots and drifts * * * * In the clear, bright spring-runs of the mountain, the trout is generally thought to attain his greatest perfection of coloring, sporting his handsome figure and brilliant tints to perfection." Jackson. J As if allowable in poetry. 11 THE JESTER Of OLD KTSG COAE. I The philosophy of this poem may be said to consist in expression by opposites-, as stated in the following, stanza. Man being the highest development on the planet,, he is the oldest, according to the theory of evolution, as I understand it. The idea is expressed fally in a subse quent poem; "The Last Man."" If M. Piegnot mentions an instance where, in a pub lic library that was frequented but Mttle, twenty-seven- folio volumes were perforated in a straight line by one and the same larva of a small insect ( Anobiitm> pertinax vel A. Striatum,) in snch a manner that, on passing a cord throogh the perfectly round hole made by the in sect, these twenty-seven volumes could be raised at once. Cowan y Curious Hist, of I>*sects\ p. 6 r .. ** That is, the pit-posts, like the jester and monrnerr belong to the present age, having been placed 1 in the mine HS supports. The fungus, referred to, is one of the most extraordinary forms of life to- be met with above or below the surface of the earth. In the light of the miner s lamp, it is snowy white, like the softest wool r hanging sometimes in great beards and festoons, or mantling over the timbers-of the mine in multiple folds- of down^ When examined closely, it resembles cobweb- and mist intertangled and mixed; and when brought out of the damp atmosphere of the mine, into* the ordin ary air of open day, it dissolves into naught. ft Crolls, lichens, snch- as lung-wort and rock-tripe^ Not necessarily the pterodactyl es of a later age; for, I doubt not, there were winged dragons in the car boniferous age as well as in succeeding eons.. Hi The identity, part for part, of the five-toed foot of .Man to-day, with that of the five-toed foot of the batra- chian of the coal measures rs remarkable. His develop ment has been above the feet. g Fire-damp, or marsh-gas, as it ra called some times, is the proto-carburetted or light carburetted hy drogen gas of the chemist. Like the gas burned in houses, it requires to be mixed with a proportion of air before it Js combu stibie or explosive. Being lighter than the air, it is found in the " npper gloom r of the coal pit, as stated" in the poem. The white-damp of the miner is the carbonic oxide of the chemist. ffi The after-damp, stythe, choke-damp, or black- damp, resulting from the combustion of fire-damp, is the carbonic acid gas of the chemist. It is heavier than The atmosphere, flowing after an explosion in a mine like water to the lowest level, the swamp of the mine, technically speaking. STEPHEN C. FOSTER. 225 1851 STEPHEN COLLINS FOSTER. Possibly the songs of Stephen Collins Foster, 1 of Alle gheny City, have attained a popularity greater than that of any other writer in any age or country. And he is regarded generally as the founder of the school of song known as Negro Melody a school of song that ad dresses itself to the ear and the heart, while the school of Jim Crow, or Negro Minstrelsy, is satisfied in delight ing the ear and the eye. The association of the negro element in Mr. Foster s songs was, as in the case of Ne gro Minstrelsy, the result of an accident in his environ ment: the wharves of Pittsburgh, which the lad fre quented with others of his years, being the place where the runaway slaves from the South, arriving on the steamboats, felt for the first time that they were stran gers in a strange land; and, in their simple stories to the throngs of boys about them, of the " old folks at home, way down upon the Swanee ribber," or of "the old Kentucky home far away," they inspired the sentiment which pervades the songs of Mr. Foster from beginning to end. In 1844, in competition for a silver cup offered by a confectioner, by name Andrews, on Wood street. Pittsburgh, he produced the first song which gave him prominence as a musician; and in 1851, he published "The Old Folks at Home," the most popular of his cele brated productions. The mocking-bird ! * List to its wondrous song Commingling many melodies in one ! You are deceived. It is a crowf that sings, Within the gilded confines of a cage Hung in the parlors of the opulent A crow that hoarsely croaked a caw ! caw ! caw ! Until the Master came and caught the bird, And, with the touch of genius, slit its tongue, And tuned its voice to melody as sweet As ever echoed in the ear in song To harmonize the human heart with heaven ! But whence the harp, that, with concordant notes, The sympathetic circle of the song Extends beyond the compass of the crow ? 2 ZC) SCIENCE AND POESY. You are deceived again. It is a jrourd, That, hollowed out and dried and filled with beans,, Rang, rattling with a wild discordant noise, Until the Master carae, and lo I the shell, Strung with the heartstrings of humanity, Resounded with the soul in sympathy f It is the Banjo, sir, that supplements The wondrous warbliugs of the slit-ton^ued Crow. * The geographical range ascribed to the mocking bird, Mimus polyyiottus, includes South western Pennsyl vania; but, in my rambles, I have never seen it in this region. There is a marvelous bird here, however, close ly allied to the mocking-bird, and so called commonly by the country-folk, namely the thrasher, or ferrugin ous thrush, Harporhynchus ricfus, which is worthy of es pecial notice. It is the thrush, referred to in "The Maid and the Mirage," p,166, 1. 14, of which I>r. Jackson says "Its musical faculties sre very little inferior to those of the mocking-bird, and many of its combinations for depth of pathos and emotion are even superior. Mount ed on the topmost twig of a tree or bush, his full heart laboring with instinctive feeling, he pours out his loud, Hear notes, in sweet aod trilling warbles, or mingled with low, plaintive, and tender tones. t The refined melodies of Mr. Foster are as far super ior to the compositions of the negro of America, as the song of the rnocking-bird is superior to the croaking of the crow. It is not so marvelous, hence, that a crow should sing the song of the mocking-bird, as that a ne gro should be the author of "The Old Folks at Home," or " Massa s in the cold, cold ground." 1854 SCIENCE AND POESY. Among the treasures of the writer, he esteems of the greatest value a memento of friendship of the venera ble philosopher and scientist, Dr. David Alter, of Free- port, a piece of glass, a prism in shape, a little fractured along the edges, but withal the prism with which this distinguished gentleman made Ae experiments which resulted in the discovery of the mode of scientific inves tigation known as Spectrum Analysis, an achievement, SCIENCE AND POESY. regarded by the encyclopedists, as one of the most bril- 3ifint of the Nineteenth Centuvy: the indisputable evi dence of which discovery, five years before an an nouncement to the same effect by Professor Kirchoff, of Heidelberg, is to be found in Sillirnan s American Jour nal of Science and Art for the year 1854, followed by a more explicit article, with daguerreotypes of the Solar Spectrum, in the volume for the succeeding year of 1855, The writer has in preparation a paper entitled A For gotten Page in the History of Spectrum Analysis which will exhibit the fact of the republication in Germany of Dr. Alter s original papers, bringing the results of his experiments and deductions directly before the eyes of the distinguished gentleman in the sunshine of whose glory the distant star, in the constellation of South western Pennsylvania, has escaped the observa tion of the general gazer. Behind this prism of glass,* behold the ey-e Of the philosopher directed to The fiery furnace of the distant sun ; Until, afar on the periphery Of human knowledge thro the sense of sight, He sees, as in the coal-fire in his grate. The elements afire and luminous The elements dissevered and distinct As gold and silver in the sage s hand if This is the Eye of Science, sir, that looks Out from the centre to circumference Its vision ever wid ning with the rim, Until, God wot, the head of Man careens Among the stars a vague and vapid comet ; His heart forgotten with the humble earth ! Now, stand before this prism, upon the rim The very utmost of the stretch of knowledge - And, thro the colors of the bow of heaven That play upon the glass, look back into The eye of the philosopher and see, Within its secret depth, the human Heart Humanity with all its woe and weal ! This is the Eye of Poesy, that looks From the circumference in to the centre 228 THE SLAVE OF THE LAMP. Its vision ever drawing to a point. Until, involving all within itself, The universe throbs with a single Heart ! * This prism of glass, moreover, has another associ ation besides its use that is worthy of notice. It was made by Dr. Alter from a fragment of a great mass of very brilliant glass found in the pot of a glass-house de stroyed in the Great Fire of Pittsburgh, April 10th, 1845. t An addition to the old proverb of "seeing is be lieving," is " and feeling is the naked truth ; " that is. when two of the senses are satisfied, the fact may be re garded as demonstrated beyond dispute. 1859 THE SLA VE OF THE LAMP. The following poem is designed to fix in the memo ry of the reader the origin of the oil or petroleum which has made Western Pennsylvania notable throughout the world, namely, that it is a distillation of sea-weed Kelp, Fucus, or Algie which has grown beneath the surface of the water in masses similar to the Sea of Sar gasso in the Atlantic of to-day ; and that it is connect ed or associated with coal the product of plants which have grown in the air in no manner whatsoever, the theories of several savants to the contrary notwith standing. The date, 1859, is memorable in the history of oil; for on the 28th of August of that year, in the first oil-well drilled by E. L. Drake, on Oil Creek, in Cherry- tree township, Venango county, oil was struck at the depth of seventy feet to be followed by a realization of the fables of the good old days of Haroun al Rashid. There once was a king, though I cannot tell when. Nor where, but in the sea, With a crown of green on his head to be seen For the King of the Kelp was he. And a king of might was the King of the Kelp, And he conquered far and wide, Till he feared not the form of the stalking Storm, Nor the toss of the terrible Tide. THE SLAVE OF THE LAMP. 22$ But a mightier grew in the air on the land. And swept down from his height, And, in a cave beneath the wave, Emprisooed the King out of sight. And there he lay while the world went round. And the waters rose aiid fell But what are Time and Tide to him Thut lies in the depth of hell In the dungeon vast of the untold past, In the overwhelming night When the golden sun its course has run, And the stars have lost their light ! Aye, there he lay and groaned a-nd moaned, In the darkaess of the grave . Till he swore by his throne that for light alone, He would live and die a slave ! A slave, with the might of the King of the Kelp, Who had conquered far and wide, Till he feared not the form of the stalking Storm, Nor the toss of the terrible Tide. When lo ! a youth, in search of truth, Down in a deep, deep well, Amazed heard the royal word Of the King of the Kelp in hell. \Vhen up he gat to secure the King With a chain, with clasp and clamp ; But he nothing could find wherewith to bind, Save the wick of his midnight lamp. But the King of the Kelp was a willing slave, To be bound with the cotton coil ; When, forthwith, upon the royal throne, He seated the Prince of Oil ! The Prince of Oil, with the might of the King Who had conquered far and wide, Till he feared not the form of the stalking Storm, Nor the toss of the terrible Tide. 230 THE SLAVE OF THE LAMP. The Prince of Oil, with his crown of flame, And his sceptre of woven wick, In the right of the slave released from the grave And the rendering-out of Old Nick. "Ho! build me a palace of marble and jet! The Prince to the slave-king said ; And the echoing wor,d was scarcely heard, Ere the roof was over his head ! "Now, build me a city to gird it about !" And ere the Prince raised his eyes From the magical page of the eastern sage, Which he read in a modern disguise A city appeared in the sight of the sun, As ne er appeared city before, Unless a town from the clouds has come down In a tempest s whirl and uproar ! " But what are a palace and town to a king, Without a realm to sway?" When, behold ! with the thought in his phantasy wrought, A kingdom before the Prince lay ! " A kingdom ! Baugh ! " said the Prince in disgust : " Let my realm the great world be ! " "Nay," quo the slave; "for the Prince can have But the might of the King of the Sea. "I give thee all that I gathered on earth. In the light of the summer s sun, I give thee the might that was buried in night, And emprisoned for ages in stone " But more, I cannot. Now, Prince, beware, How thou spendest the coin of my strength ; For none can help the King of the Kelp, When he is spent at length. "And none will lend the Prince to spend, When he has squandered his fee The might of the crown and the sceptre and throne Of the King of the Kelp of the sea. MAID OP MAHONIXG. 231 Thou hast the magic of wealth at command, To build, to barter, to buy; But remember the quick will expire with the wick The Prince with his slave will die ! "Guard well thy Lamp of Life, youth, And with it thy royal slave ; For his kingdom of wealth in the Oil of thy Health, Will end with thy wick in the grave ! u Guard well thy Lamp of Life, youth, Thou Prince, by right of birth ; For the wealth of the Past in thy being amassed, Will be spent with thy Slave of the Earth ! " MAID OF MAHONING. Maid of Mahoning,* asleep in thy bower ! Beauty as cold as if chiseled in stone Or as the colorless wax-petaled flowerf Drooping in dread of the pine-forest s moan ; And as impassionate ! Maid of Mahoning, Stilled would the aspen leaf be in thy breath ; Hast thou no moments of sighing and moaning ? Art in the Vale of the Shadow of Death ? Hark ! tis a voice from the lips, that, close- pressing, Oft to thine own , behind secresy s veil, Glowing with rapture s protracted caressing, Measured the moments of bliss, like a snail ! Know st thou that voice in the wild night* im ploring ? Yea, though the tempest and torrent combine Drowning all sounds in the flood of their roar ing Sleeping or waking, that voice thou dst define ! Maid of Mahoning, a faint flush is creeping Over thy white neck and over thy brow ; INDECISION-. Crimson thy face is oh, canst thou be sleeping ? Canst in thy dreaming again hear his vow? Maid of Mahoning, ah, why dost thou tremble, And thy breath quicken at what fond alarms? Cannot the heart in thy bosom dissemble ? Sleeping or wakin-g, wouldst be in his arms ? Maid of Mahoning, oh, dream on forever ; Web after web weave in phantasy s loom ; Wake no-t to wail that realities sever Wake not to weep at mortality s tomb ! Maid of Mahonin: T in dreams with thy lover, Limpet thy lips in a soul-suctioned kiss ; Then let the tide of time rise and roll over, Thou wilt en-angel the Spirit of Bliss ! * "The next spring, we moved to a town about fif teen miles off, called Mo-ho-mng, which signifies a Jick." McCullough. t The wax-pipe, Monotropct uniflora. See note on page 192, INDECISION. With every waver in her mind, A quiver in my heart, I find ; My faith and doubt turn with her thought " I love her" and " I love her not ! " I could not change in feeling faster Were I divining with an aster, And felt alternate love and hate As leaves alternate fixed my fate. ANOTHER. The trout in the transparent stream Doth like the pebbled channel seem ; So changeful with her thoughts I prove Tell me, my heart, if this be love ? THE DARE-DEVIL TOUGH. 233 THE DARE-DEVIL YOUGH. The Yough is the familiar abbreviation of the Youghiogheny an aspirated Ohio-gheny, signifying, the River of Blood. When the following lines were written in 1874, and set to music, by the writer, the song, published by Knake & Co., of Pittsburgh, was dedicated to Mr. H. Clay Frick, of Broadford a dedication which I beg leave here to renew in appreciation of the sterling qualities which inspired the sentiment of the second stanza of the song. The description, in the first stanza, applies to the river in the gap of the Chestnut Ridge, below the Ohio Pyle Falls. Where the bluff Alleghanies rise rugged and rough, And fetters and bars for a continent forge. There dashes defiant the dare-devil Yough, Through rocky ravine, deep dell, and grim gorge! To this river I drink ; for akin to my blood, Is its torrent so bold, and so buoyant and free, Braving bowlder and crag with impetuous flood, As onward resistless it rolls to the sea ! And here s to the man with a will like the Yough A will that would wield as a weapon the world, Daring all, and defying even Death with a scoff, When over the brink of decision he s hurled ! Tis the man that I love, the bold and the brave, Converging his might to the channel of aim ; From the mountain of life to the gulf of the grave, Rolling on like the Yough to the ocean of Fame! And here s to the woman aflood with the tide That bursts from the mountain-height s foun tain of love, 234 MONONOAHELA. On whose billow the barks of futurity glide, Until anchored in bliss in eternity s cove f Tis the woman I love ; and the free bounding wave, That breaks in the course of my hot, throb bing blood, Is the might of the love in return that she gave A inisrht that s akin to the Yough s rushing flood 1 MONONGAHELA. "The word Monongahela is said to signify, in some of the Indian languages, the Falfing-in-Banks, that is, the stream of the Falling-in or Mouldering Banks." H~ H. Brackenridfie : Pittsburgh Gazette, July 26, 1786. The popular synonym or translation is, however, Old Muddy Banks. It is the type of the melancholic the " dark ened blood " of the song as the Dare-devil Yough is the type of the impetuous and determined. The poet, in the following lines, is supposed to be standing; upon the bank of the river. Monongahela T s muddy bank, When mirrored in its murky flood, Is not as sombre, dull, and blank, As shades that cross my darkened blood ! Ah, woe the day when living love, Incarnate sunshine, warmth, and light, An image without life should prove The phantom of a dream at night ! The sun is set ; the sky o ercast With heavy clouds, low hung and black ; Monongahela s ot the past, Engulfed within the storm and rack ! But deepest night and darkest storm, Their gloom combined, cannot efface The faintest image of her form Reflected in a conscious glass ! THE JEWELS I PRIZE. 235 The storm is o er ; the clouds are riven ; The stars rejoicing glint and gleam ; I see them in this second heaven, Monongahela s murky stream ; But io the mirror of my mind, No rays of hope and joy are shed ; The blue eyes of the shade are blind The shade s the image of the dead ! THE JEWELS J PRIZE. Let the miserly hoard up their symbols of self, Their copper and silver and gold, Their jewels and gems base, mineral pelf, Inanimate, senseless, and cold ! But to me give the treasures of life s tidal flood. Impassioned and sentient, and warm, That burst into being and beauty with blood, In woman, life s lovliest form ! To me give the jewels of mirth and delight, With which nothing earthy can vie The diamonds that flash with a welcoming light, And gleam in a fond woman s eye, To me give the jewels of gladness and bliss, The heart s fondly found treasure-trove The rubies that flush with a passionate kiss. Instinctive, responsive to love ! And the golden metal called precious is dross, When compared to the golden net, Which Nature has woven of light-flowing floss, And out in the stream of life set ; And oh, to be caught in that golden mesh, And tangled with love s deftest art, To feel as it tightens the quivering flesh, And the beat of a fast throbbing heart ! 236 LOVE S HOLY GRACE. LOVE S HOLY GRACE. The eye being in the heart and not in the head, ( see page 197, ) there is nothing more beautiful in nature to -,\ lover than the charms of the object beloved nor noth ing more common than to sanctify the sins of one s commission by the grace of organic greed. Yes, bright be the dew that bespangles The spider s gauze web in the grass, Reflecting the dawn as it dangles, In its fairy-formed, globular glass ; But brighter my darling s eye beaming With the fire of a lip-quiv ring kiss. Its sparkles a galaxy gleaming, Illuming a heaven of bliss. And red be the maple buds* breaking When Spring awakes frost-nipped at dawn, When ice-beaded branches are shaking, And showering pearls on the lawn : But redder my darling s cheek-blossom That bursts into loveliest charms, When Winter has fled from her bosom, And Summer has come in my arms ! And pure as the wave of the fountain That wells in the moss-bosomed nook. And breaks o ; er the rocks of the mountain. In a free, joyous, loud-laughing brook ; But purer the blood, though it s burning, That thrills in my lov d one s embrace ; For the heart-throb that trembles with yearning Is hallowed by love s holy grace ! * The red, or swamp maple, Acer rubrum. " In spring, the appearance of the tree is remarkable for the deep crimson flowers with which it is thickly clothed." Wood. OH, 1 WOULD LOVE YOU ALWAY 1 237 , I WOULD LOVE YOU ALWAY: Oh, I would kiss your lips your Hps - Oh, I would kiss your lips When warm and moist in the morning of life. When hot and parched in the noonday strife ; When burnt out ashes at evening s rest ; When clammy and cold as the clay that pressed In the raight that knows no dawn. And I would look in your eye your eye And I would look in your eye When blue and bright in the morning s gleam ; When gray and dazed in the midday s beam ; When red and ringed in the gloaming s light ; When black and glazed and blind in the night In the night that knows no dawn. Oh, I would love you alway alway Oh, I would love you alway In the flash of life of the maid in the morn , In the flush of noon by the mother borne ; In the shadow of grandmother s eventide ; In the darkness yea, and whatever betide In the night that knows no dawn ! THE HEART ENTOMBED. On yonder hill, when clothed in summer s green. There s but a leafy thicket to be seen ; But when disrobed by winter, and laid bare, A grave s white head-stone is seen standing there. So social Mira summers to a blush, Leaves to a smile and flowers to a flush ; While, sad and lonely, she, with blighted bloom, Sighs for the dead and winters to a tomb ! 238 LOVING AND LONGING. LOVING AND LONGING. I ve seen a maiden young and trim, Sit down alone and sigh for him ; Day after day, year after year, Until her eyes grew weak and blear Until her hair grew white and thin Until her bones grew thro her skin Until her hope did not forsake her - Her corpse embraced an undertaker ! So I have seen a tender goose. To quit her nesting place refuse, And, in a hopeful mother-mood, Upon a cold potato brood, Until to all the world forgotten, And the potato long since rotten She was too weak and numb to move. And died in the fond hope of love. Ah, what a blessing to creation, A loving heart and expectation ! THE EYE AND THE IMAGINATION. The eye lays an egg Imagination hatches it ; The eye bends to beg Imagination snatches it. The eye clothes a maid Imagination strips her ; The eye turns afraid While imagination grips her ! AN EPIGRAM. A nose, not well put out of joint. Nor long in coming to the point. THE DEMON LOVER. 239 THE DEMON LOVER. l^rom ten, when she kissed her fond mother good night, Until twelve, Isabel, at the window, has sat. In the shaded light s gloom of a still, curtained room, When lo ! through the casement there flutters a bat ! A bat, in a suit of the unseen at night, On a wing of the silence that will not alarm, When behold ! in the gloom of the still, cur tained room, The wing of the bat has become a man s arm ! The wing of the bat has become a man s arm, That encircles the form of the fond, watching maid, In a silent embrace that is throbbing and warm, Till a hot breath has left and lost all in a shade ! But behold ! the bright sun of midsummer has risen, And gone with the bat are the shades of the night ; K en the mocking-bird swings in its bright gilded prison, And merrily sings in unfeigned delight ! But thrice has the breakfast bell rung in the hall, Ere Isabel tremblingly trips down the stair, With her hand on the baluster, lest she may fall, And the flower of yesterday still in her hair ! " My daughter ! my daughter ! what aileth thee, tell? As the dead thou art cold, as the dead thou art white ! " 240 GRAVEYARD GROTESQUES i; mother ! mother ! I m happy and well I have seen but a bat in lay room the past night. 7 "But a bat?" "Yes, a bat." "Only that?" "Only that." "Then a bat let it be and thou happy and well ; But, my daughter, beware, lest the flower m thy hair, That has faded o er night be not burnt where bats dwell ! " Aye, call him a bat, and a bat he becomes, As many old fables of phantasy tell : He that sucks the warm blood of inflamed maid enhood, Is well understood in the Vampire of Hell ! GRAVEYARD GROTESQUES. Since graveyards yawn, why may they not, then, laugh, And Epigram poke fun at Epitaph, Till tombstones hold their sides with bated breath, And smiles sepulchral wreathe the skull of Death ! " Tread lightly here " Ah, yes ; perhaps, Our feet are shod with thorns ; Or worse than that Jehosophat ! The corpse may be covered with corns ! "Here lies James Hyer " No further enquire, For the leopard cannot Change a single spot, And no more can his nature, a liar ! GRAVEYARD GROTESQUES. 241 : Here rests in peace Lewellyn Rhees " I prithee read no more ; For leaving life, he left his wife And everlasting war ! " Tread lightly here " What mockery I Addressing thyself to one Who weighs no more than ninety-four, Thou stone that weighest a ton ! u She was a thrifty wife " She was, indeed ; I ve seen her in her hour of housewife need, O er her bare legs her husband s breeches pull, And comb his head with a three-legged stool ! "Remember, man, as you pass by, As you are now so once was I " Jake Simpson, you re a wicked liar j You were a clerk, while I m a Squire ! " Tread lightly, stranger, as you pass, For Samuel Greer Is lying here " Ah, yes ; I remember his left eye was glass ! " Gone to meet his mother-in-law May I be curst, But that s the worst Of Epitaphs I ever saw ! " Here lies Jane Brown " Don t speak so loud Lest the flirt arise Lo attract your eyes, By waiving the tail of her shroud ! His model, Beauty, with the sculptor s art, The poet shapes the marble of the Heart. A LETTER TO A LADT. A LETTER TO A LADY. Nature has made you, Mary, To be by thought and feeling moved ; Nature has made you, Mary, woman, To be of mankind The Beloved. But Art would make you, Mary, golden An idol in your form attired, To be by distant eyes beholden And in- their staring T.he Admired. Nature has made you, Mary, charming^ That in seclusion- you may meet Attention in you service arming To lay Devotion at your feet. But art would make you, Mary, dashiig r That, sex defying, you might move, And hurl r amid your thunder s crashing, The lightnings of a mimic Jove ! Beware! beware! The man who kneels Before the golden calf of Art, Hypocrisy alone he feels Else he s a groveler at heart ! And so beware the man who falls Before the thunder-bolt of Art ; He but obeys the prompter s calls, And on the stage plays the fool s part, Be Nature s maiden, Mary, human, As youth and health and beauty can ; And learn that he who loves a woman, Loves only as becomes a man. He comes he wooes ; but that alone Is but the blowing of a bubble ; She waits receives ; then all is done Love in humanity is double. A LETTER TO A LADY. >o, step by gjtep., x mark his advance, That comes, &$ it becomes a true man Impelled by feeling not by chance To love a s in an may iove a woman. If you discern aught In his form That clouds futurity s clear skv ; It is a presage of a storm ; Take heed in time Let him pass by. If not, and he comes like the Sun Diffusing round him warmth and light, Until, his course through winter run, He gleaming climbs the vernal height And you, another earth, receive Melting from formal ice and snow, Until the frosts of distrust leave, And violets confiding grow Remain another earth, in faith, That Nature doth your course approve ; For there s no Joshua but Death To stay the climbing Sun of love. And Summer will as surely warm For you as for our Mother Earth ; For you are she in woman s form Evolved through eonids of birth. Then, Mary, be yourself, the creature Whom Nature hath in you approved ; Incarnate woman-earth of Nature, Be, by the Sun of man, beloved ! And let the nameless works of Art, In man s or woman s form attired, Be banished from your head and heart To the cold moon, to be admired. 244 TO YOU, MAN. TO YOU, MAN, When the lips of a woman Be she lovely and wise ! Speak falsely to you, Man, With the blackguard, she lies. When the vow of a woman Be she precious in pelf 1 Is broken to you, Man, She perjures herself. When the kiss of a woman Be she blushing to scarlet I Is envenomed to you, Man, It s the kiss of a harlot. When the soul of a woman, In selfishness nursed* Is deceitful to you, Man, In itself it s accursed. Then bid such a woman An eternal farewell, If You are a true man, And would escape hell ! TO When the storm of passion pervades the heart, And the clouds crash together, the lightning will dart : Perchance to slay, with a dagger of light, The babe asleep in its cradle at night ; Perchance to save, like a beacon of heaven, The tempest-tossed ship to the rock of wreck driven I But, believe, in the calm of the head above, The flash of the Heart has been forethought by Love ! LITERARY HERMIT CRABS. 245 LITERARY HERMIT CRABS. There fee eke-certayne enuite crabbes atnooge Ye men-ae of letteres who iadyte in songe, And lie is -of them who wille backe ye breecl>e Of his bare witte into anofcheres speeche Wrythe in ye convolutions of rime, An he ye poete whelke were a lie ye tyme I But Uodde a -mercye onoe hie sillye harte, He is swyche only m his hyndere parte ! There a<re, too, certain hermit crabs among The men of letters who indite a song ; And he is of them who will back the breech Of his bare wit into another s speech Writhe in the convolutions of his rhyme, As if he were the poet all the time ! But Ood <have mercy on his simple heart, He is si*ch oely in his hkder part 1 ASTRONOMICAL. Nay, nay, Leoore^ astronomy is not A science to be buried and forgot- It hath its uses to define a kiss : A shooting-star across the sky of bliss ; That seems a star of love to youthful eyes ] But is a meteor uato the wise, That differs from a star of love as far As dotfa a spark from an eternal star ! A FOURTH OF JULY ALTERNATIVE. Either America s eagle on high, In the blue vault of empyrean sky, Or a this glorious Fourth of July Musca volens in a bloodshotten eye ! 246 THE LAST KISS OF LOVE. THE LAST KISS OF LOVE. Confound it, Kate, Byron "was craizy, To extol so the first kiss of love, Or worse, too entolerably lazy To learn what comparisons prove. The first kiss of love t what is in it? No matter if stolen and sweet, It flashes away in a minute, And you cannot the first kiss repeat ! Why, any man, Kate, in his senses, Beginning to kiss in the past, Continues in all moods and tenses, And reaches ahead for the last ! The last kiss of love s, odd or even, The number that can t be surpassed In the ladder that leads up to heaven, Sure, the round is the best that comes last ! TO When I was lost in melancholy s night, With naught but darkness in my staring sight, Afar the music of your voice 1 heard And lo ! a star appeared with every word ! Until, I stood beneath a gleaming throng In the soft light of heaven in your song ! ON A RINGING BELL. Ah, the heartless, cold, indifferent bell ! With loud-tongued clangor ringing as well A wedding chime as a doleful knell Ding ! dong ! ding to heaven ! ding ! dong ! ding to hell ! LOVE S RULE OF THREE. 247 LOVE & RULE OF THREE. The time whenever it is dark is best for speedy wooing ; For many, when they cannot see, don t know what they are doing. The place wherever none but two can either see or hear, Without a lantern in the hand or trumpet to the ear. The circumstance a bit of wood with, at one end and other, Phosphoric mixture and mere force, and nothing near to smother. FATE. Ah, who can fathom the depth of Fate? Two girls part at the college gate Two girls with kindred heart and soul, Like two trees with a common bole, As like as twins, their chances even For life on earth or love in heaven ; And yet before a twelve-month flies The one is wed, the other dies ! The clock strikes east and the clock strikes west The" one is happy, the other blest ! Eleven twelve ! - the nuptial kiss ; Eleven twelve ! eternal bliss 1 The bride of Life and the bride of Death The one bound with an orange wreath, The other crowned with immortelle ! While, ding ! ding ! The church-bells ring A wedding-chime and a woeful knell ! 248 TO A SILKWORM. Spin, spis, thou silk-reelisg woria r For our lady another thread r That a gown may thrill to encircle her forai> r When thora art forgotten and dead. Sin-g, sing, O importunate veiee r For our lady another strain, That an echo may live in her soul and* rejoiee^ When thou art heard aever again !. HER CHARACTER. She was r ID eveyythiog she said and did r bufe human Her vice and virtue io these two lines yoia may scan : As false as only woman can be false to woma r And true as only woman cao be trite KA TY-D1D. Aye, Katy did ad kindly r As alone a woman can, In her innocence love bliadly 7 A wicked, worthless man. DESPAIR. Ah, yes; I have lived: I have loved and have lost ! The earth is but ashes and I am a ghost ! Rhymes and jingles, Jingles and rhymes, Till the ear tingles And aches betimes. ONCE, AND ONCE ONLY. 249 ONCE, AND ONCE ONLY. He that sees the same object twice, is blind in the second seeing ; He that lives the same moment again, is dead for thu instant being. He that breathes the same air twice, breathes bane in the second breath ; Opposing, the new is the habit of life, the old is the habit of death. Earth is ubiquity changeful to man, in season, in weather and sky \ Else with repeated sensations of same, he d weary, then madden, and die. Wouldst thou have proof, to the dungeon cell go, the waste of the desert or sea, Or in thy bed lie awake in the night, and one sound and sight hear and see. If thou, Philosopher, wouldst live, indeed, the highest existence on earth, Let no sensation or feeling or thought have in thee a second birth. If thou, fond Lover, wouldst climb to love s height, repeat not a step of thy bliss, But, to a mile-dream prolong every thought to a thousand leagues a kiss. Once, only once in love s passion embrace, then nobly most gloriously die, Pinnacled on the most heavenly height in human ity s rapturous sky ! Or live, to totter down, step after step, decaying in pace with thy lust, Till at the foot, thou art laid out a corse a stench amid rottenest dust ! 250 THE VOICE OF THE ANVIL. THE VOICE OF THE ANVIL. Aye, a merry old man am I And a wink is as good as a nod I ne er let the rust eat into my trust In my anvil and my God ! Though in the grave are my wife and child. And I am the last of my clan, Yet my heart is light from morning till night In doing the best that I can. I work away from day to day, And while I work to God I pray ; With my iron anvil s voice, I worship and rejoice. Aye, a merry old man am I, While I hear my anvil ring In sweet accord, while to the Lord I work away and sing Sing in the trust of my anvil and God, From morning until even, That the voice of mirth once beloved on earth, May still be heard in heaven ! Until I moulder into dust, And my old anvil turns to rust, When, among the loved and blest, I shall forever r< j st. 1804 i THE LEGEND OF THE WEEPING WILLOW. The dates prefixed to this and succeeding poems in this volume indicate the years in which they were writ ten, in order that, if read aright, the Reader may see the growth of the writer as his environment enlarged with his years, or its centre, shifting with himself in his travels in the light of the sun among the living and in the light of his lamp among the dead, involved impres- THE WEEPING -WILLOW. 251 sions forei-gn to the Little World of Southwestern Penn sylvania, an expression of which through one of its growths this book purports to be. The weeping-willow, to which the legend refers, ince the publication ot the poem in 1864, has fallen be fore the axe. It .stood at the spring on the Salem road, half a mile north of Greensburg. And, as if to turn the whole subject topsy-turvy i. e., as Grose will have it, topside-turfways while the tree is among the things that were, the heroine is living still ; and the hero, in stead of being a soldier in the war of 1812, was, in reali ty a sailor that is, he drove a mule on the "raging canawl " in the service of the Old State Robber, and the only battle in which he engaged was one with his team on the towpath in which he was slain by a movement in the rear of the enemy ! But thus it has been ever with poesy and prose! The maple leaves were weaving shrouds Of colors bright and gay, From Autumn s gold and purple clouds That deck the dying day. When down the way a lady fair Rode merrily with me ; Whilst loosely hung her auburn hair From ribband fetters free. Near Fanny s Wood, then as we rode. The lady, pointing, said, " See yonder willow by the wood That weeping, bows its head ! " * Yes," answer d I. Continued she, "A legend touching, true, Has made the same tree dear to me Would like it told to you?" 252 THE WEEPING-WILLOW. " Yes; thanks. A tale but told by you Was ever dear to me. 1 She, sighing, told this Legend trae Of the Weeping Willow-tree. When, two and fifty years ago, (1812) The fearful tocsin rung, War ! war ! against an English foe, To right our country s wrong ! A soldier, young and gallant, rode To bid a last adieu To one who dwelt withio this wood, A maid, his sweetheart true. Down yonder hill, with slackened rein, His way he sadly led ; The horse partook his master s pain Aud lowly hung his head. A lithe and slender willow wand The rider s only goad Hung loosely in the soldier s hand As on he slowly rode. And as he passed this flowing spring, He startled at a sound, He heard his loved one sweetly sing, The switch fell to the ground. To yonder oak the horse was tied ; The rod, unthought-of, lay Till found by the intended bride, And waves this tree to-day.* " Farewell. Within the coming year, If then the Briton s fled, I ll come again to thee, my dear, If not, believe me dead. THE WEEPING- WILLOW. "A soldier idly spoaks of death, Then start not at the name ; With him tis but an empty breath, Another word for fame. ^ But if I live a happy life, Return I then to lead, To live, to love, with thee, my wife n Her thought of death was fled. For trT hope of love dreams not of -death r Of happiness alone ; It twines not in its flowery wreatta The weed of deadly tone. Her eyes, though tearful, quickly With inward love- warmth true: The rose-bud sparkling in the sun W<hen wet with morning s dew. 44 Then fare thee well. A woman s love Hopes, prays the same jome true, Yes, nightly. prays to Him above To keep from danger you. " A year, though long the time it seems, And much of sorrow brings, Yet, happy thoughts and happy dreams Will lend it swiftest wings. "And if, forsooth, you come not then ? See yonder ivy spread Its leaves so fresh and green, e en when The oak it clings to s dead. " " A noble vow," the soldier said, "Of faithful love out-spoken; To keep my heart from fear and dread I need no other token. "Twill cheer me when the winter s blast Blows chilly through the camp, And warm the sod on which I m cast Though deadly cold and damp. 254 THE WEEPING WILLOW. "The stormy wind its force has sped. The winter frost s no harm, The frozen ground s a downy bed, When all within is warm. "A iarewell kiss of love? one more? Oh, had some Indian drug Prolonged that bliss forever more, No other Heaven I d beg. " Many years their flight had ta en : The Briton long had fled : Yet, came the soldier not again, For he was with the dead. The faithful maid yet knew this not, And still her dreams were bright : The day of hopeful woman s thought Has neither cloud nor night. And upward looked the maid to God, As the dead her heart still kept ; And upward grew the willow rod And drooped its head and wept. And now this willow weeps above The maiden s lonely grave, An emblem of her faithful love, And long such may it wave. An honest tear for the faithful maid Came trickling down my cheek. When neath the weeping-willow s shade The lady ceased to speak. * A branch of the weeping-willow, ScdixBabylonica, when stuck into moist soil will take root and grow into a tree : each branch of a tree being in fact a tree in it self at a certain stage of development. THE LOVE-LORN LADY g LAMENT. 255 1866 THE LOVE-LORN LADY S LAMENT. Involving the writer s surroundings while pursuing the study of conchology at Washington City: the song itself being the result of association with singers of similar ballads. Attracting the attention of Col. Robert Morrow, one of the Secretaries of the President, Hon. Andrew John son, this poem led to an intimacy which resulted in a joint production, a drama, entitled, "At Twelve O Clock," the initial point of which being the sentiment of the song. In 1874, the writer amplified this drama in his Christmas story. "Zomara: A Romance of Spain." I saunter on the sandy shore, Where the waves seemed merry girls, Bedecking themsel s with seaweed and shells, And flowers of foam in their curls ; Where now I see in the foam a shroud, As if tossed on eternity s bed, And hear a moan from the depths unknown Alas ! he is dead ! he is dead ! I wander through the wooded glen, Where Nature seemed a child, That prattled among the birds in song, And in the flow rets smiled ; Where now the deadly nightshade grows, And the owl echoes, over head, The clods mournful sound as "<* fel1 in the ground Alas ! o er the dead ! o er the dead ! Ah ! there is no beauty again to the eye That bedews a lover s mould, And no more music again to the ear That has heard a lover knolled ; When the heartstrings are struok by ae Harper of Death, And the soul to the discord is wed, The head and the heart are forever apart Alas ! he is dead ! he is dead ! THE REBUKE OF THE SAGE. THE REBUKE OF THE SAGE. Involving the writer s access to the Oriental IHerr* tare contained in the Library of Congress, and the ex perience of a voyage on the Atlantic a storm off Cape- Hatteras and the sight of the sparkling of the sefs -with its teeming billions of animaliculav c Within this book the universe is planned, Eead it, if ye the whole would st understand 1 r Cried out the boastful Spirit of the Age Unto the hoary-headed Hindoo Sage, SAGE. "From this bold crag, what, seest thou in the ocean ? " SPIRIT, ;t l see naught but the waves in wild commotion. Their upreayed ragged crests snow-white and bright With a strange, lustrous, phosphorescent light. >r SAGE, ; Look up, DOW, into the ^reat vault of heaven ? " SPIRIT. U I see the stars the Crowu, the Polar Seven, The Pleiades, and that broad band of light, The Milky Way, across the brow of night." SAGE. " Presumptuous man, and would st thou bid me look Within the narrow compass of thy book, To know the universe, its moving cause, Its ultimate design and governing laws ; THE TWO TOWERS. 257 "When, twixt a inite and world, thy piercing eye The smallest difference cannot descry ; When to thy keen discriminating sight, In myriads they both appear as light ! "Go, take a drop of ocean s sparkling brine. And make its hidden secrets wholly thine, And thou hast, of the universal plan, Learned more than ever yet has vain, vain man, "Write down the individual alone, Before the sum of the Unknown and Known ; The Known Finite will tell whenever writ All knowledge of the Unknown Infinite." 1871 THE TWO TOWERS. AN ALLEGORY OF WINTER AND AGE. Removing from Washington City to his native place, Greensburg, the phenomena of the severer winters of Southwestern Pennsylvania, in comparison with those of the District of Columbia had their effect upon the writer, as the following contrasts will exhibit. I. THE TOWER OF FIRE. Stern Winter lifts his heavy hand ! His brow a scowl In the lowering cloud ; His voice a howl, Wild, high and loud, In the storm that sweeps over the land Over the hilltop, and over the heath, Giving to every cranny a breath To mimic the wail of woe unto Death. The timid leaves, at the first faint sound. Fly, fluttering, helpless, to the ground, 258 THE TWO TOWEES. And, for shelter, look Into every nook, Even into the watery wards of the brook. The lordly oak and the lowly bramble Together tremble ; And the lapped up lake aod the burly river Quake and quiver, Shudder and shiver. Flown are the warblers of holm and hedge ; And, a living wedge To the warm South driven, Flock after flock of geese* has riven The troubled heaven. Withered and wind-strewn are weed and flower ; E en the thistle,f bold In his stronghold His thorny castle and prickly tower, Has lost the ruddy glow of his face, Shrank to a ghost, And wanders about like a spirit lost, Wind and storm tossed, Anywhere A flitting flake of the pallor of fear Blindly seeking a resting place. And Man, who alone wields the weapon of wit Who saddles and bridles the ocean horse, And with steam for a spur, a compass a bit, Rides where he lists on the wide-world course ; Who yokes the oxen of water and wind, His corn to grind ; Who changes the dart, by the lightning hurled, To a carrier-dove ; Who soars, on the pinions of gas, above The woe and the wail of a wicked world, To that good and happy land of love, Where holy spirits are feigned to move, Even Man, the bold, Grows chill and cold, THE TWO TOWERS. 259 When Winter uplifts his heavy hand, When his scowl And his howl Darken and deafen the frighted land, Even Man, the bold, Grows chill and cold, Tn dread of stern Winter s icy ire, And bolts and bars his main stronghold, His TOWER OP FIRE! Stern Winter has struck with a heavy hand ! Frozen and numb, Palsied and dumb, Stark and stiff a corpse lies the land ! The pallor of snow is over all, And icicles tassel the funeral pall. Congealed is the blood of river and lake. Yet hark ! from the depths profound, Where Winter can neither strike nor wound, You can hear the billows surge A coronach wild, a dismal dirge, At the dead land s wake. Now, where is Man, Who dares the demons and devils of nature As no other creature Can? Unscathed, unscarred, By Winter s blow, Dealt heavy and hard With shot and shell of ice and snow, Aloft he stands in his Tower of Fire; And the terrible ire Of Winter dire, The little hero now dares to defy. You can read these words in his flaming eye, " I ll conquer thee yet before I die ; This Tower shall be thy funeral pyre ! " The worldly reel turns round and round, 260 THE TWO TOWERS. The yarn of time is wound and wound, Till a six-months hank is run ; When lo ! the Sun, In a blue and balmy midday sky, Stands high ! And Winter has gone and Summer come ! No icy daggers on cottage eaves, But nourishing rain in gentle showers ; No midnight hoar-frost skeleton-leaves ; But bright and blooming noonday flowers ; And the tempest drum And the wild wind fife, That led stern Winter to war and strife, Are drowned in the brown bee s peaceful hum And Death, perforce, Himself is a corse, For all is aglow with the lustre of life ! And the death of the land, By a blow of stern Winter s heavy hand, A fiction a dream A poet s theme ! Nought but a fiction a dream A poet s theme : Yet such things may fall in the scales of the mind, And kick the beam To good or evil : Less, by far, Can make or mar A golden harvest to rustic hind Rain-drop or weevil ! J For though the Mind Is a wizard king, To draw in the skull his magic ring, And raise the spirits of water and wind Kelpie, goblin and ghost, Aye, and the genii of earth s dark caves. And the fiends of fire THE TWO TOWERS. 261 A host Of willing, abject, able slaves, To make a deed of their. master s desire; Yet it seldom can rule that little elf, Itself; But, with nimble motion, At the prick of a whim, or the spur of a notion, It turns it about, with supple joints, To one or the other cardinal points Of the moralist s compass, good or evil, God or Devil. II. THE TO WER OF PR A YER. Age, like a dancing fay, Tiptoed lightly from day to day The stepping stones laid in the stream of time ; And the sound of his footsteps fell Like the faintest notes of a distant bell Ringing an evening s chime. Yet, step by step he grew In size and strength, till every thew Was hard and stiff as the archer s yew ; And from a child, With manners mild, He waxed wrathful, warlike, and wild. And still, unheeded he stalked by the side Of Man in the height of a victor s pride. Till lo ! looming up like a tower on high, Or Brocken spectre || against the sky, Before his victim he takes a stand, And raises a stern and heavy hand ! The Eye that shone like the sun of Spring, High overhead, As a waning moon now glimmers through A lurid brugh A halo crimson, a circle red, The shadow of Age s signet ring. 262 THE TWO TOWERS. The Ear that rang with the laughter of youth. And garnered the lessons of wisdom and truth ; That treasured the accents of friendship and love, And grew spell-bound At the magical sound Of the song-sorceress of the grove ; That gladdened At the wedding of music of lute and guitar, And maddened At the fearful alarm-bell, the tocsin of war ; Now strives in vain its door to unlock, When words old friends and old neighbors knock ; Strives in vain, though a helping hand Be hollowed, and at its elbow stand. For Age has gnawed, with the brown tooth of rust, The latch, The spring, the bolt, the ward, and the catch, Filled the keyhole with dust, And cast The key Into the dark sea Of the past ! The Voice, that defied the tempest s wrath With a scoff, Now gasps for breath, And in whispering slippers shuffles after A harsh, dry cough Age s demoniac laughter. The Back, Man s proud totemic^f sign, That towered erect as a mountain pine, Now droops And bends and stoops, Till, in the brook s Still mirror, it looks Like the curved scythe With which Old Time, like a mower blithe. Cuts ever and ever his world-wide swath. THE TWO TOWERS. 263 The brawny Arm and the sinewy Leg Assistance beg Of each other, And give it like brother to brother. The leg on its knee rests the feeble hand ; And when the legs in turn aid crave To walk, or stand, The hand, of the burden takes the half, With a staff The finger of Age that points to the grave ! The Heart, deep-rooted in Christian soil, That grew like Norway s sturdy pine, With arms reaching far and wide On every side In the happiness, welfare, and life, Of cherished children and worshipped wife ; Till mankind, weary of sorrow and toil, To rest in its shade would calmly recline, And point to the top towering high above. To index the way to the land of love ; Now, lopped of its limbs, since daughter and son, And wife are gone To the grave, It sways to arid fro in the cold world s blast, Like a man-of-war s mast Battle-scarred, Blackened, charred,, Unrigged and unsparred, Forsaken and shunned and dreaded by all ; For in its fall To the parting deck, Is wreck, And death beneath the wave ! Squandered long since are Youth s treasures On tops and toys Of sports and joys, And rattling baubles of pleasures ; And squandered long since the wealth Of Manhood s health, 264 THE TWO TOWERS. On crowns of ambition and laurels of fame. On ribbons of praise and the scroll of a name, On trinkets of vanity, feathers of pride, And on hobbies of whim and opinion to ride. But what ! can the spendthrift Jew Spend all his silver and gold, That Age, the inquisitor old, Cannot get A guinea or two from the heretic yet? No. Then go, And draw one by one the teeth by decay, And in each foul socket a hot coal lay ; On the thumb put the torturing screw ; On the ankle and foot Wedge the tight Spanish boot ; And break The arms and the legs on the wheel of ache ; And straighten yon ugly, crooked back On the rack ; And on each great toe Grive a blow With agony s crudest weapon, the knout Of gout ; Then, then must the miser his hoarded pell Of strength and endurance discover, And eke out the mangled mass of himself Till the very last coin is paid over ! If he die, if he do not, all s well A territion** twill be of the torments of hell ! But surely the Mind of Man Still looms like El Capitan, A mountain rock in its firmness grand, Though Age before it will stand, And point with his heavy hand, To the great Yosemite canon of death Yawning a thousand fathoms beneath ! Ah, no ! Its mountain base By the earthquake of fear s rent asunder ; And its face THE TWO TOWERS. 265 Is black with the dark clouds of doubt The lightning of hope darting in and out, And despair rolling after in thunder ! And in the deep canon of death, That yawns beneath, The magic mirage unrolls the weird Panorama of all that on earth is feared, Now magnified and distorted by fancy, The mind s self-deceiving necromancy. Here hells are depicted in every hue, And unrolled to the view, Where fire and water, earth and air, In all their awful forms appear ; And even a round Of life, for a sinful soul is found, Through the hideous forms Of toads, and lizards, and worms. The boldest must view it, with bated breath, The fearful mirage of the canon of death ! Ah, where shall he go now, Man, the mortal ? What power Appeal to, and crave Himself to save ? Or cast e en a firefly s glimmer of light At this midnight hour Of the dark and fearful and terrible night, That breaks beyond the grave ? Before him there stands a feudal tower With open portal, Low and narrow and small, But yet may enter all, Who will bend the knee, In humility ; The head of his helmet uncover; And lower The neck for the stroke of a sword ; And clasp the hands, without gauntlet or glaive, For the chains of a slave ; And with heart laid bare, 266 THE TWO TOWERS. Fealty and homage swear To the LORD : It is the holy TOWER OF PRAYER ! ft Here tapestries haim from hall to hall, Where all The good and lovely on earth that has proven, By the loom of the happiest vision is woven. And what heavens of bliss, in this web, for the dead, Inwrousht in pearls and golden thread ! Here, angels and bright cherubim ; Here, saint singing psalm and hymn ; Here, the sea-rover s wild Valhalla joys, A midday battle, a midnight carouse ; Here, the classic elysium of Jove ; Even God s holy presence, A light eternal of life and love ; And absorption into the Holy Essence, Nirvani ; And many A fiction a dream A poet s theme. The old Man enters the Tower of Prayer : His fear now banished, His care now vanished Into air ; And to and fro through the tapestried halls He,creeps, Till, weary with visions of heaven, he falls, And sleeps Sleeps in death in the Tower of Prayer ! For Age has followed him even there, And before his victim taken a stand, And struck the death-blow with a heavy hand ! Food for worms ! Back to the elemental forms Of Matter, Man goes, as science affirms ; But the life the soul THE TWO TOWERS. 267 The Force that pervaded the whole, Where is it ? or here or there ? On earth ? iu air ? Or bound with matter to shift and change In its infinite range Of forms that the chemist can measure and weigh, As a farmer can reckon his wheat and his hay ? Or apart from matter, a force unique, This world or a better again to seek, And live as a spirit eternally, From sin, and sorrow, and death made free? But what say the sextons, old and grey, As they dig the grave through the frozen clay ? Says one " Aye, Winter and Age are born of one mother, Are brother and brother, And as Spring follows one, so youth must the other. In faith, After death, Again we will both be boys, And, perhaps, in the height of our youthful joys, And fun, Leap over the graves, with nimble foot, Where our old bodies moulder and rot. " The other, nodding his hoary head " Tis said, The seed In Spring will sprout and grow Best, where the old stock, withered and dead, Falls over A leafy cover To melt away with Winter s snow, And cherish, And nourish Its new-born self, a flower or weed. " Nought but a fiction a dream A poet s theme. Yet such things fall in the scales of the mind 268 THE TWO TOWERS. And kick the beam To good or evil ; Less, by far, Can make or mar A golden harvest to rustic hind Rain-drop or weevil ! * Plutarch, in his comparison between land crea tures and water creatures, says, " Cranes, at their first setting out, cast themselves into a triangle with the front forward, thereby to cut and pierce the wind that bloweth before and about them, to the end that their rank, thus arranged and set in order, might not possi bly be broken." Morals, Holland s translation, folio, London, 1657, p. 787. The truth, however, lies in this: The eyes of the crane are situated on the sides of the head, so that the bird cannot see an object directly in its front; hence, to follow its leader, it is obliged to keep a little to one side in order to see it. The same is true of the wild-goose of the poem, Branta Canadensis. t drsium lanceolatum. I See Cowan s Curious History of Insects, pp. 71-2, where an account is given of a lawsuit between the Commune of St. Julien and a species of weevil which continued for more than forty-two years, during the Fifteenth century. | The gigantic spectre of the Hartz mountains in Hanover, and seen at sunrise from the Brocken, the loftiest peak of the range, is nothing more than the shadow of the observer cast upon the thin vapors then floating in the sky. g-This old word bruah, applied to the hazy circle sometimes seen around the disc of the sun and moon, and generally considered a presage of change of weath er, has been over-looked by our standard lexicographers. It has been derived from the Greek Brochos, a chain about the neck, possibly our brooch. Other forms of it are brogh and brough the latter occurring in the old poem The Farmer s Ha\ st. 28 : " Meg cries she ll wad baith her shoon, That we shall hae wet very soon, And weather rough ; P or she saw about the moon A mickle brought A CENTENNIAL COUNTERBLAST. 269 Another word applied to the lunar halo and not. found in the dictionaries is burr. Vide Brande, Jamie- son, et a I. The " lurid bru<jh " of the poem refers to the urcu-x fseuilis,oY red circle about the ball of the eye of aged persons, the result of fatty degeneration of the cornea. f Totcniic characteristic, specific, an adjective from totem, an Indian word for a picture of a bird, turtle, or other animal, used by the North American Indians as a family, or tribal symbol or designation a rude kind of heraldic coat-of arms, and so termed by early writers. " Each his own ancestral totem, Each the symbol of his household." iMngfellow, The signification of the upright back of Man is elab orated in the first poem in this volume, "The Last of the Mammoths." ** Territion, another useful word not found in our standard dictionaries. Its meaning is apparent from the following quotation from Lieber s Encyclopcedia Americana, sub voce Torture : " The mere threat of tor ture is termed territwa, and is distinguished into verbal terrM-ton, in which the accused is given up to the execu tioner, who conducts him to the engines of torture, and describes, in the most appalling manner possible, the sufferings which he may endure, and the real territion in which he is actually placed upon the machine, but is not subjected to torture." ft At the time this poem was written, the writer had not made an especial study of the science of symbolism. In the subsequent poem, "Chautauqua," the signification of the attitudes of prayer is given correctly. 1876 A CENTENNIAL COUNTERBLAST. BY A WRETCHED WESTERN POET, IN THE CITY OF BROTHERLY LOVE, JULY 4TH, 1876, ON HIS WAY ( HIC COUGHING ) TO THB STATION-HOUSE. After three and a half years service in the treadmill of a newspaper office, involving ad nauseam the thousand and one odes ot the clay, the brass bands and flag displays, the slang of the period, and the genera 270 A CENTENNIAL COUNTERBLAST. conviviality of the Centennial Year of he Republic : in volving, as it were, by imbibition. I say, damn this clatter ! That s what s the matter ( hie ) With Hannah ! Nough to make a man cuss This ( hie ) confounded fuss ! This ( hie ) ridiculous muss ! - Gettin ( hie ) wuss and wuss ! Shoutin ! Spoutin ! Singin hosanna ! Wipin your chin with a flag ( hie ) of bandana ! Shoot the whole caboodle The Merican eagle the Fourth of July- The Little Hatchet that couldn t lie John Hancock and ( hie ) Yankee Doodle ! Shoot the whole Centennial biz ( hie ) From the Big that was to the Little that is ! II. Bombs bustin in air ! 1 wish I was deef I An the rockets red glare ! Or blind, I d as lief ! An this sulphurous smell Would stifle all (hie) Well, Even the beer Tastes confoundedly queer ! An a man cannot touch, But he s all over oueh ! A man has no sense, But it s outraged outright ! No sense ? A ( hie ) suggestion No cents ! Ne er a red ! Broke dead 1 Busted higher an a kite ! Lit out for that Kingdom Come A CENTENNIAL COUNTERBLAST. 271 Where the Rag-baby s eye-teeth are cut ( hie ) chewin gum ! HI. And what for? O ( hie ) lor ! Give us room ! give us room ! The American Century Plant s in full bloom ! IV. The American Century Plant I I d like to meet it ! I ve seen the Centennial elephant I wonder if he ( hie ) could have eat it ! V. Where is it? There s room for conjecture ! What is it ? That s food for a lecture ! Some pumpkins for independence pie ? An ( hie ) sass ? Or small potatoes for equality ? Or beans ( hie ) for gas ? Or that buncombe bosh The reformer s squash ? Or this (hie) dead beet? I d like to see t This wonderful century plant, But ( hie ) can t ! However, let s have, if you please, Some Centennial ( hie ) peas. VI. Pull down your vest ! ( hie ) Young man, go west ! And ( hie ) give us a rest ! This whole Centennial fuss Isn t worth a ( hie ) Continental cuss 1 And that s the blizzard, From a to izard, Of my Centennial ( hie ) blunderbuss ! C HAl TAKQUA. 1876 CHAUTAUQUA. A SONG OF SYMBOLISM. Involving the elaborate symbolic representations on exhibition at the Centennial, in the departments of statuary and painting, confirming the writer in the re sults of his study and investigation, and emboldening him to give expression to his thoughts as freely as the sculptors and artists of the civilized world had done in Their works before him. A lake - As fair as only phantasy can make, With ha If- closed eyes, At even, In the glamour of glowing, cloudy skies In the vision illusive of heaven. On this lake, a boat As light as the leaf that is silently borne, On the balmy breath Of a warm October morn, From the tree above to the wave beneath. With neither rustle nor ripple to note Whether breezes waft or waters float Nay. as light as the boat by poesy wrought As an idle toy in the workshop of thought. Afloat, On this lake, in this boat, A thing, encased in a mottled husk, Of silk and cotton and straw and leather, In a strange entanglement held together, And diffusing an odor of musk ! Fie! An eye Of the self-same radient blue That gives infinity its hue ; A lip as red as blood can stain, When crimson art ry and purple vein CHAUTAUQUA. 273 Unite in a common mesh, In a gauze of semi-transparent flesh ; A neck, of the upturning crucible s glow, When the molten steel begins to flow : As white and as clear, with a dazzled-eye hint Of, within it, an exquisite violet tint ; A form without a single straight line, In a series of arcs that all beauty combine ; A motion extending, with varying curve, The lines of her form, without tangent or swerve ; A being the wax of humanity s mold To be melted by love to receive to hold To shape in the pattern impressed in the past, And turn out alternates of self with each cast ; A woman ! a woman of womanly worth As ever made heaven existence on earth. And with this woman, one Other, Neither sire nor son, Nor uncle nor brother, Nor husband nor friend, And yet a man a man To dare and do what only man can. And here an end She, bending the bough, a ripe lucious peach ; He hungry the food he most craves within reach. It is Maud and I that, in a boat, On Lake Chautauqua, are afloat ! Together we pull with measured oar ; Together we view the receding shore ; Together we join our voices in song, And merrily sing as we glide along. Away ! away ! o er the waters blue ! Away ; away ! in our light canoe ! When the wave is calm and the sky is clear, And the bark that floats between, my dear, Has only two oars in it 274 CHAUTAUQUA. Two oars that feather The wave together ! Away ! away ! o er the waters wide ! Away ! away ! o er the billowy tide ! When, tho death is below, there is heaven above, And [i world at rest between, my love, With only two souls in it Two souls that feather The wind together I Till our stroke, like a sledge, Has driven The keen prow-edge Of our boat, like a wedge, To the splintering heart Of the log- like lake Till the lake in twain is riven, And gapes in our widening wake ; And Maud and I from the world are apart ! A motionless speck An indistinct fleck, To the eye on the distant shore ; Where the evening shadows away into night ; Where the casements lengthen to streamers of light ; Where the reveling s roar The crash of the music, the dancing, the din Is heard no more, Save in the faint note of a lone violin A thread of gossamer sound so thin, That sense is in doubt Is it something without, Or something within ? I sit in the bow, nay, to sit, I seem ; For I am ubiquity s self in my dream ; Maud touches the oar with a finger tip, And listlessly toys with its dainty drip That touch of the girl Transmutes the drops and the wave into pearl. CHAUTAUQUA. 275 She smiles; a wavelet encircles the oar And widens out toward the shadowy shore Till the lake is wreathed from a central isle In the mirth sympathetic and play of her smile. She laughs; the water-lap under the bow Echoes her voice to the depth below ; While the mirth-bounding midges bear it on high. To the stars that flash from her upturning eye. The lake with her touch is pearled ; The lake with her smile is whorled ; While the depth below and the height above Rejoice With her voice ; The world the all-inclusive world Is intermingled Maud and I in love ! The air so still ! and the wave and the sky so dark ! Sound and sight Are lost in the night That envelops the world of love in our bark. Closer, Maud, creep ! The heart is not hushed in the swelling breast ; The love-lighted eye has not sunk in the west Of sleep. Then come ! Interlocked, love, our hearing and sight Will know not of silence, will know not of night. Thou tremblest, love ! Thy breath is warm Nay, hot and fast A feverish, full, and broken blast ! Dost fear the calm will break into storm ? Hark ! A. sound Gurgles up from the depth profound, And startles the sable stillness around ! And now a shock ! 276 CHAUTATJQUA. And a rising wave that begins to rock The listless bark ! Nay, calm thy alarms Thou art safe in my artns ! Our boat Though a light and fragile shell, will float Above The highest as well as the lowest wave, And save Us in the trust of love ! In all its fury, breaks the storm, With tumultuous force and in phrensied form ! Till the ear is deaf with the thunder s crash, And the eye is blind with the lightning s flash ! Till our bark to the heavens above is tossed Is shivered is sinking down, down and is lost ! Nay, lost in a swoon, Maud and I ; While the boat Keeps afloat, And drifts away Quietly into a silent bay Deep In sleep ; Where how long I know not we lie. And recover. The storm is over. The shore is at hand. And, amid the crash of the revelers band, At midnight, we land. Round and round the waltzers go, Turning on the tuneful toe, Spinning fast or reeling slow, In close-clasped gyration ; Little eddies of the ball, In the whirl-pool of the hall, OIIAUTAUQrA. Iii the mighty vortical Of the earth s rotation ! With the winding, waltzing world. Tops by gayety thumb-twirled, Maud and I are wildly whirled In the maze around us ; Round and round the lake is dry ! Round and round the storm a lie ! Round and round till Maud and j Are as evening found us ! The morning is black ; The sky is ragged with rack ; The air is heavy and hot ; A feverish doubt Runs in and out, And is answered not In a cheek that blanches and burns ; In an eye that deadens and dazzles by turns ; In a heart that stifles and throbs ; In a warmth that gives and a coldness that robs. The deck is dull ; the book a block ; The song a sigh ; the run a walk ; The walk a mope with hasty turn ; The look in pity half to spurn ; The ring unworn : The letter torn ; The rose a ragged, bleeding thorn ! A bleeding thorn that bleeds afresh, When I draw near ; Like murdered flesh When the murderer doth appear. In the afternoon, The hammock hangs like a horned dry-moon, And Maud reclines in the crescent lap By a strangely sweet, fortuitious hap, Blending in one symbol together, Woman in love in the trust of fair weather. 278 CHAUTAUQUA. Afar, I dare to speak. And with my tongue, my foot keeps pace ; Nearer, nearer, till I can trgce The tears in great drops coursing down her cheek Till I can look into her eye, And with mine ardent gaze, the tear-suurce dry. The heaviness begins to lift ; And in the rack there is a rift ; The sun pours down a golden flood That warms the blood, Till it lightly flows, A.nd brightly glows. We walk And talk Together. I place a feather Of fern in her hair ; While my tremulous fingers linger there, Till the stem is broken. But no matter th inanimate token There s a thicket of fern At every turn ! The rack is gone ; The faintest cloud has flown ; The sun descends in a glowing west ; The world reclines in enraptured rest. It is even. The earth is poised in an ambient heaven. Every object against the sky That listless re very can descry, Is the haloed head of a hallowed saint, Such as ecstatic limners paint. The purple haze Comes into being like a mist Of amethyst, CAIIUTAUQUA. 279 And grows within our silent gaze, Till, in one comprehending whole, Of love impassioned, sentient soul, Our beings dissolve and become a part The beating heart. The long-curved lashes of the eyes of Day Close thu world in their shadows of gray. Is it the darkness that makes me bold ? I dare to touch Maud s silken fold ! Close to her side I steal ; Her warm breath on my cheek I feel ; I linger on her lips, while she is pressed In rapture to my throbbing breast. The rack of the morn without a rift, The clouds of the afternoon adrift, The glamour, the halo, the haze, the shade, In a fathomless grave together are laid The Past has no ghost to rise and affright The wondrous might Of love encased in the black mail of night ! The boat awaits the boat ! the boat ! That in the storm kept bravely afloat ! . That beat on the heaving billow s breast ! That topped the highest watery crest ! Ha 1 danger must take another form To deter fond love than a passionate storm ! Thou hast no fear? Then come, Maud, come, Arid the lake forever shall be our home ! Together we row Maud and I in the boat ; On the stormy lake again we re afloat ! A snail, in his own individual shell, In the torture of self writhed and whorled, Hangs out of his window above a deep well, To take a wide view of the world. 280 CHAUTAUQUA. Protruding a finger-like sensitive socket, With cautious contemplative move, He draws out a glass from the out-turning pocket. And brings it to bear upon love ! Love, deep in the circumscribed world of a well, In the form of a petal -like boat, Afloat on the crest of the surface-drip s swell, And in it, two fire-flies afloat ! Enraptured, the snail shuts his telescope-eye, And sets out Parnassus to climb ; The surface is slippy, the summit is high, But he sticks as he cniwls up in slime ! Yea ; it is true, The lake, the boat, and Maud and I Are but the figments oi a lie ; The storm, the swoon, the dainty diction Of the erotic muse of fiction ; And ragged the rounds Of rhythmic sounds That compass the sensuous dreamer s bounds ; Yet, give the poor devil his due! The poet must writhe in his shell, And look in a well, And .see there earth, heaven, and hell Yea, hopper humanity s infinite selves To the tiniest elves Begot Of thought The fire-flies in the snail s well view, Or Maud and I in he lake canoe. It is an innate habit of the Thought To mirror the great world according to The modes in which the great world is expressed In halves that are as nothing when alone, But when united are all powerful, Omnipotent in reproductive might, CHAUTAUQUA. 281 Evolving self into infinity - In halves, or male or female man and woman, In highest form, down to the lowest hint The push and pull of every mode of force The in and out of every form of matter That vortices in individuality. And so as Man is halved in man and woman, Each individual is halved again Divided thro and thro from brain to heart Into a man and woman brain and heart. So there are male and female modes of thought, Philosophy and Poesy, in point. The man, Philosophy, swells, from the one Unto the many, with expanding arms; The woman, Poesy, shrinks from the many. And, with enfolding arms, clasps all in one. Philosophy resolves the milky way Into a myriad of revolving worlds ; While Poesy, dissolves the light of all Into the lustre of a single star Into the soft light of a woman s eye. Philosophy creates a quadruped, From out the billion bipeds of the earth, And calls the monster Man eternal Man ; While Poesy reduces all to two, A man and woman, who are born to die, And who, between the cradle and the grave, Think in one soul the thoughts that millions think, Feel in one heart the throbs that millions feel, And people worlds in one Storm on the Lake. And man and woman like, these modes of thought May live to adult life and hoary age And be abortive one without the other Each unproductive, in their work apart, Of aught that lives a separate existence. Philosophy, a bachelor, shoots up Divergent rockets in the face of heaven, That point with fiery finger to the stars, Then burst in vain self praise and fall as sticks ; 282 CHAUTAUQTTA. While Poesy, a spinster, knits a sock That ravels at the top as fast as she Can draw the threads together at the toe. But, joined as man and wife, Philosophy And Poesy bring forth a living being, Wherein the aspiration of the sire. Beyond the bourn of comprehension, Is blended with the fond love of the mother, As finite as an individual A nameless being to the wise and good ; An idol, in a thousand different forms, Under as many mimes and signs, to those Who comprehend with only eye and ear. Here, reader, pause. Thou art Philosophy. Look out with thy accustomed sight, that dims Not in the dark ning distance of the past, And see the head-width of the wedge of thought, That Poesy has narrowed to a point Within the storm-tossed boat on Luke Chautauqua. Dost see not in remotest, darkest Ind, The mystic ARGHA. in whose ovoid depth The stream of life hath an exhaustless fount? Dost see not, in the mist of Hebrew myth, This selfsame argha in the mystic ARK, That, while the world s engulfed in death, Bears in its womb the fruitful halves of life? Dost see not in the blue of Grecian past, This same boat ARGOS, filled with armed men. Who sail away to Colchian land, and steal The golden fleece of immortality? Dost see not in the glamour of to-day The symbol of the argha in the ARCH, Through which in triumph march ** hosts of men Flushed with the glow of vital victory ; And under which, in its grand form, the dome, The millions kneel in hope of life eternal ? Or wise Philosophy, dost see not in The very OAR that trembles in Maud s hand The oar propelling the light curved boat The active AR that speaks the might of man HAUTAUQITA, 2pO In unioo with the passive ARK of woman ? The ARROW winging from the curved bow Of Cupid s self, the very god <jf love? The point that EARS the mellow mould And makes of barrenness a teeming EARTH ? The ARM of man, that in the war of life, Strikes down the hosts of death opposing him ? The ART of man comprising all his work ? The ARDOR of consuming passion ? Yea, An ARIAN must thou be, and freely breathe The AIR of mystic lore, Philosophy, To mate with Lake Chautauqua s Poe&y ! Within the very words of " Maud " and " I," Religion from infinity has lived, And to infinity will live as long As man and woman give to thought their sex. Maternity wombs in the sound of : M," From "mother" to the holy name of "Mary"; Paternity s expressed for aye in " I, " From "John" and "Jack" to "Jesus" and " Jehovah " ! I come from phantasy far, far away, To fact at hand. Maud kneels, arid folds her hands Together in the symbol of herself, Before her baby in the cradle lapped, And prays unto the Infant in the arms Of her that bare Him Him the finite god Of woman thought and love concentrated The Saviour of mankind a weakling babe, Within the comprehension of a child ! In sacred sympathy with her, I rise, Uphold my right hand tow rd the farthest sky, And silently extend her words unto The infinite Incomprehensible, Beyond the wide reach of man s aspiration ! O blessed woman thought, sweet Poesy ! Without thee there had been no Infant Christ ! Ubiquity s too vague to be a god ! 284 NIAGARA. 1876 GAR A. Die, like a dog With a curse-pointed kick in a dyke ? Die, like a hog. When the pork-market tyrant cries, Strike? Die like a leper with loathsome disease A sewer of quackery carrion of fees ? Die of old age with a shudder and chill, Mid weeping relations disputing my will ? Die like the millions of mortals that drag o er a Life of cold commonplace? Never! Niagara! I that have breathed with the lungs of a fire ; I that have loved with insatiate desire Clasped with the strong arms of sensuous might Whirled in the wild waltz of maddened delight Whirled in the reeling of rapture to stagger a Vortex suspended in passion s Niagara ! 1 that have reveled in thrills, from a kiss To the wallow of lust in a surfeit of bliss ! Till, bloated, besotted, and rotten with sin, The world is as burnt out without as within ! Save thee, Death, in a bullet a dagger a Leap in the flood of the mighty Niagara ! Save thee, Niagara ! Torrent of Death ! If thou canst extinguish this passion-fired breath ! lloll up resistless thy might in one flood ! Seethe in thy rapids like love-boiling blood ! Quiver an instant in brink-edge orgasm ! Plunge ! and go down with me into the chasm Into the thunder, the mist-cloud, and flag-array Stolen from heaven, thou hell of Niagara ! Ha ! how thou hugg st me in love s last embrace, Bared breast to breast, and hot face to face ! Over the breakers we hurriedly ride Through the swift rapids ecstatic we glide THE FCDDLEH OF TIME. 285 Kiss me oh. kiss me while yet there is breath ! Down. down, together we go, iove, to death ! Into the black depth, and into the blacker Aye ! Laura-limbed, Laura-lipped, LH ura- Niagara ! 1877 THE FIDDLER OF TIME. It was au old fiddler, as bare as his bow, In the arm and the time-beating leg, And as notched as his fiddle about the middle, As he sate upon a keg, And scraped and straddled and seesawed and scored, In an everchanging tune, Now fast, now slow, now high, now low, The while a crash, syne a croon. And as fast as the hairs of his bow wore out, They grew in his long white beard ; While his strings were a part of the throbbing heart That in his music was heard / That in his music was heard in the beat Of his bare and bony leg Ha ! a fiddler was he as none other could be But Time on the Earth as a keg. Aye, kee- squeaky -squaw ky-tweedle-dee-dee. Went the fiddle and bow of Time, On the keg of the Earth in the mansion of Mirth, On the rocky ridge of Rhyme. When lo ! there appeared a succession of forms In the merry old fiddler s sight, Reviewing the Past from the first to the last As they waltzed into the light Of the wick that sang and danced as it burned, Above the fiddler s skull, Till behold ! it shone like a golden sun Upon the moon at full ! 286 THE FIDDLER OF TIME. Ha ! this is the Maiden of Matter, I wis, This shapeless, graceless mass, In a gown of gray a gown of clay Diffused like a dusk throughout space. And oho ! this partner that clasps her waist, And whirls her in his course, Till she seems to roll like a flag round a pole, This dashing fellow is Force ! Kee-squeaky-squawky-tweedle-dee dee, Round and round from left to right, Till lo ! they are whirled into a World In the merry old fiddler s sight ! The world of Matter and Force in mtisk In the guise of Man and Woman ! The world of naught to feeling and thought, Until it evolves the Human ! W The world without the fiddler s skull, And the world within, in thought, That begets in truth, but when, forsooth, It begets as Man is begot.* When lo ! as the world of Matter and Force, Revolved as a waltzing ball, In the light of the sun and the mirroring moon That illumined the fiddler s hall - There came and went another pair In the merry old fiddler s sight Who but Dandy Day. in the rainbow s array, Whirling round with the Negress of Night With the Negress of Night, in her gown of gauze, Of woven silence and jet, With a crown on her brow, and a silver bow In a golden galaxy set. Kee-squeaky-squawky-tweedle-dee-dee, Round and round in the waltz they go, Now there, now here, until a Year Is turned on their tuneful toe. THE FIDDLER OF TIME. 287 When oho ! ha ! ha ! What a jolly pair Is this that comes into sight ? The lady in green is Summer, I ween, And the gentleman, Winter, in white. And was ever there seen such a gown of green, As the Lady of Summer wore, When with golden hair and faultlessly fair, She appeared on the fiddler s floor? And in what a grim guise of snow and ice, Was the blustering Winter dressed ! While an icicle froze to the point of his nose And hung down to his breast ! Kee-squeaky-squawky-tweedle-dee-dee, Round and round go the Green and White, Till another pair in their turn appear In the merry old fiddler s sight. Ho ! Will o the Wind, on dainty toe, A filmy, fairy form, Till, gathering force as as he whirls in his course, He sweeps away a Storm ! While his partner, behold, the Maid of the Mist, In a fleecy gray gown and hood, Till, whirling about to a Water-spout, She bursts into a Flood ! Till oho ! ha ! ha ! the fiddler plays As never he played before, While the lightnings flash and the thunders crash, And the torrent redoubles its roar ! Kee-squeaky-squawky-tweedle-dee-dee, Round and round in majestic might, Till another pair in their turn appear In the merry old fiddler s sight. Ha ! Will o the Wisp, thou wandering sprite, Dancing hither, and higher and higher, Till, swelling beneath a smoky wreath, He rages a furious Fire ! 288 THE FIDDLER OF TIME. Aud the Nymph of the Wood whom he holds in hi8 arms, As round and round he turns, Who is she in the sash of the hue of ash, But the Forest and all that burns ! Till oho! ha ! ha! the wild, wild waltz That makes the old fiddler shake A Volcano of fire rising higher and higher. In the arms of a whirling Earthquake ! Kee-squeaky-squawky-tweedle-dee-dee, Round and round in majestic might, Till another pair in turn appear In the merry old fiddler s sight. Ah, this is the Lad} 1 of Life, I ween, In the morn of a summer s day, The beauty and mirth of heaven and earth Involved in a clod of clay ! Her hair, the golden gleam of the duwn, Her eye, the blue above, Her form, the last in the living mould cast, Her heart, the heaven of Love ! And this is Death, this ghastly shade. This greedy, grinning ghoul, From out the gloom of a gaping tomb Where all is forbidding and foul. And he would waltz with the Lady of Life, This loathsome leper of old ; But before he placed his arm round her waist, The fiddler bade him hold. Aye, the fiddler of Time, with a quivering bow, And a thrill suspended leg, With gasping breath, commanded Death To take his fiddle and keg. When away with a hop and a skip and a jump, He sped to the Lady s side, And with circling arms enfolded the charms Of heaven and earth in his bride. THE FIDDLER OF TIME. 289 And round and round in a giddy waltz, Went the Lady of Life and Time, Round the keg of the" Earth in the mansion of Mirth, On the rocky ridge of Rhyme. While, kee-squ.eaky-squawky-tweedle-dee-dee, Went the fiddle and bow of Death, Till Time turned about without marking a note , And the Lady gasped for breath, And fell on the floor in a silent swoon, When Death dropped the fiddle and bow, And, while Time 8tood aghast in the maze of the Past, Entombed the Lady in woe. When behold ! the wick was a ghastly hue, Where all was glitter and glare, And the maker of Mirth on the keg of the Earth, Sate in silence and despair. How long how many long ages he sate, No human tongue can tell ; For the time-beating leg OD the terrene keg Is still while the heart is in hell.f He sate until it happened so, The best of reasons why Philosophy came to study the flame That cast its strange hue in his eye. When stumbling upon the fiddle and bow, Of the sad old fiddler of Time, The strings went twing-twang and Melody rang, Once more on the ridge of Rhyme 1 When the sad old fiddler awoke from his woe, And took up his fiddle and bow, And began to play from grave to gay When the wick began to glow. And behold ! the Philosopher turned him about In the whirl of a merry dance, With a partner that came with the glow of the flame , On an errand for old Dame Chance 290 THE FIDDLER OF TIME. Sweet Poesy ! Ah, what a winsome wench, In the fiddler s staring eye, As she whirled and whirled into a new world In the arras of Philosophy ! Kee-squeaky-squawky- 1 weedle-dee- dee, Goes the fiddle and bow of Time, On the keg of the Earth in the mansion of Mirth, On the rocky ridge of Rhyme. And around go the twain in a wild, wild waltz, While the fiddler stares aghast, As anon they assume in the gloom of the tomb The form of the buried Past Of the Lady of Life in the arms of Himself! When, whirling with bated breath, He beheld her fall in the reeling hall, When he danced to the fiddling of Death ! * That is, the brain thinks accurately and arrives at such conclusions as may be deemed the truth, only when it follows the formulas of thought as they exist on the outside of the organism in the sequence of events in nature, the alternation of light and shade, summer and winter, life and death, the growths of planet and plant or, as in the poem, as Man is begot. Further, a man being the sum of the accumulated impressions of his environment and that of his ancestors for ages, he thinks correctly only when he thinks in accordance with his organization his being as a whole. And here I may say, too, that two persons or two peoples, with approximately the same organizations will arrive at ap proximately the same mental results in philosophy poetry, art, and science as they do in physical appear ance. The brain in the exercise of its function of t hought is no more without the organism than the arm in casting a stone. t This idea has been expressed in a variety of words i n preceding pages : in " The Slave of the Lamp " But what are Time and Tide to him That lies in the depth of hell ; and in " The Jester of Old King Coal " Where years ago but as yesterday, To the woe that notes not time. THE LAST MAN. 1878 THE LAST MAN. He stands upon an arc of the round earth Revolving in a triple whirl through space ; His back, a line directing downward to The centre of the earth the Finite Point ; And upward to the Infinite the Naught, Until, within the triple whirl of the Revolving earth, it is involved in it, And at its centre finite made, Henceforth To whirl, involving and evolving, till It winds into the thought of The Last Man. His eyes with the horizon form a blade, That, whirling wheresoever may the world, Bisects the Finite from the Infinite The part from an hypothecated whole ; As it, as well, bisects himself in twain, The part below the eyes from that above, The mortal man from An immortal Soul. Within the concave of his skull, above The line of the horizon and his eyes The counterpart organic of the dome Dividing the in-known from the unknown, Aye, what is the self-comprehensible Within his skull, but the organic form Of a self-comprehensible without Within the greater skull of whom ? Of God ! Whence came he ? From and out the Infinite. But how ? By the involving of the Infinite Within the whirl of the revolving earth, Until, made finite at its central point, A newborn eddy set out in its course, 292 THE LAST MAN. Involving and evolving as it turned, Until, above the line of the horizon, Behold ! he stands revealed unto himself The Finite Son of whom ? The Infinite With an immortal soul, the Son of God ! But when was he begat ? There is no Time Between the Finite and the Infinite. In the relationship between the Son Of God and God, he Is And there an end. The soul is as eternal as its God. But, mark, between him and the finite earth, And other and the myriad forms involved In individuality unto His comprehension, there is Time a Past In which there are relationships Of first and last of sequence Birth and Heath, As eddy after eddy occupies A certain space and time in revolution. The First Birth was the centre of the Earth ; The Last Birth is the finite first whirl still Involving and evolving ouiward from Its starting point It is the Thought that gleam- Along the blade of the horizon and his vision, That, as the earth goes round and round, bisects The finite Past from out the Infinite The Future God ! The Heav n of The Last Man ! The Thought of The Last Man a Thought of Heaven ! The farthest evolution from the centre. The nearest evolution unto God THE LAST MAN. 293 The finite soul of the Last Man, A Soul Evolving with existence into God ! His brothers aggregate the wedge of Life That heads with him, the highest type of Man, And points at the horizon in the whirl That simulates the centre of the earth ; Or heads within him as a whole, and points At a cell-centre whirling in his blood ; Or heads within him as he stands, the Last, And points, back in the Past, at the First Man The first relationship of Force and Matter Involved in individuality By eddying within the stream of space The first-born son of God Now, the Last Man. He is the sum organic of the World. His beating heart, the rhythm recurring of The earth in its compounded revolution. What, has been felt, within the wedge of life That heads in him, he feels and more : that which Is severed from the Infinite by the Revolving blade of his far-reaching scythe The line of the horizon and his eyes And whirled into the vortex of his Passion ; And so, what has been thought within the Past, He thinks and more ; as round and round the earth Goes in its triple whirl, and the long blade Carves out the Finite from the Infinite With an extending point, In his abstraction. Ho ! ho ! what thrills of bliss he feels, unfelt Before by any other living thing, And never felt again until a form Attains the point of growth which he has passed ! And what bright visions of involving Heaven, 294 THE LAST MAN. Unseen, before the sweeping scythe of sight Has cut them from the brain of God in swaths. And mowed them in the skull of The Last Man ! Aye, the Last Man Behold the monarch of The whirling worlds innumerable that Have yet revolved within his recognition ! Erect upon an arc of the round earth Revolving in a triple whirl through space His eyes with the horizon on a line The finger of the dial on the clock That ticks within the heart-beat in his breast, And strikes * as strike it will, whene er the maw Of the revolving earth will be unfilled Within a desert of diluted space When, dying both of inanition, Earth And the Last Man, their decomposing dust Will be devoured by other orbs unknown. Then will the clock have struck the hour of Doom, And into naught have vanished the Last Man ! A recollection in The Mind of God. Unto himself no longer the Last Man, But lo 1 the thought of The Eternal God ! INDEX. LVDEX. Abel 46, 123 Abele 200 Abortive 281 Abstract 20, 41 Abstraction 293 Abyss 21 Acer rubrum 236 .Vche 261 Admired, the 242-3 -.E^ialitis vociferus 206 After-damp 221 After-sight 122 Age 19, 2(3, 37, 66, 140, 2-57, 28 I Aim 233 Air 265, 283 Air-breath g vertebrates 212 Air-girdled globe 35 Alarms 276 Alder 122, 212 Algae 228-31 Aliquippa, Queen 3) Allegheny City 193, 22-5 mountains 20-7, 137, 233 river 15, 17,82 Alliance Furnace 102-4 Alter, Dr. David 226 Altoona 160 Ambient heaven 278 Ambition 264 Amethyst 278 Anemone nemorosa 169 Angel 266 Anguish 108 Animalculse 256-7 Ankeny, Johnny 203 Anobium pertinax 224 Antipodal types 11 Anvil, Voice of 250 Apes 214 Apiscommunis 213 Apparition of thought 12 Apple 37 Ar 282 Arc of the earth 291 Arch 282 Archer 261 Ardor 283 Argha 282 Argos 282 Arian 283 Ark 282 Arm 51, 263, 283 Armstrong, Col. John 53-54 Arrow 21, 283 Arrow-points, stone 16 Art 242-3, 283 Artery 272 Askance 23 Aster 232 Astronomical 245 Attention 242 At Twelve O Clock 255 Autumn 76, 213, 251 Autumn leaves 55, 76, 138, 139 Aye 285 Baby 71, 92. 205, 283 Bachelor 281 Back 11,262 Bag-pipes 56, 62-4 Baird, Spencer F. 211 Bald Eagle 70-72 Bancroft, George, 23 Banjo 194, 226 Bar 37 Barb 14 Bastard 163 Bat 101, 141, 202, 239 Batteau 26 Battle 41, 266 Bayonet 49, 56 Bandana 270 Bear 10, 28, 40 Beard 18, 26, 166, 285 Beating of the heart 293 Beauty 148, 241, 273, 288 Beautiful River 10, 25, 60 Beaver River 92 Bee 213, 260 Beech 10 Beer 270 Belisarius 109 Bell 63, 187, 209, 246, 261, 199 Bell, book, and candle 205 Bell, On a Ringing 246 Bellamy, George Anne 43 Beloved, the 242-3 Berkley, John 113-27 Berries 21 Bessemer Steel 38-39 Bigot, M. 31 Biped 281 Birch-bark 21 Bird of Bouquet 64-65 Bird s-nest 192 Birth 292 Black-damp 224 Black Hawk 19 Blackguard 244 Blacksmith 250 Blast-furnace 103 Blairsville 193 Blind and Seeing 14 Bliss 33, 24, 293 Blizzard 271 Blood, River of 9-16 298 fXDEX. Blood 12, 15, 18. 25, 35. 37, 50, 64. 71.75-, 92, 94, 101, 107, 139, T>8, 184 . 198, 233, 2*S, 23 i, 24M, 272. 2< 4 Blood globule 295 Blue 27 2 Blunderbuss 27F Blush 23, 117,237 Boat 272 Bombs 270 /{ones 191 Book -worm 22i Boshes 103 Bouquet, Bird of >(->"> Col. Henry 10, 27, 50 ,, 62-6 Boy 71 Brat-ken ridge, II. H. 23 f Braddock. Gen. Edward 1<>, 27. 34, 38-47. 06 Brad lock s Field 36-42 Bra Idock, Grave of 43 Braddock s Gold. Myth of 44-47 Brsulstreet, Col. 61 Brady, Samuel 1 N-^ Brain 294,. 11, 19, 5o r 30 151, 19-i Brake 5 j Bramble 25S Branta Canadensis 2>S Breaker* 284 Breast 284 Breeches, Leather !> L i Bride 247. 288 Bridge 3S Brief von Gott 202 Brigland, James 7:> lirigs 127 Brison, James 102 Bradford 233 Broad head, Gen. 13<t Brocken Spectre 2(51 , 208 Brocklesby, John r>2 Brother 19, 44, 121, 293 f 207 Brook 2-58 Brugh 201 Bullet 40, 284 Buncombe 271 Bushy Bun, battle of GJ-G4 Burr 268 Butcher 173-6 Butter lie Id, C. VV. 93, 98, 100 Hut ton wood 10, 198, 200 Buttniiwood, Spectre of 197-200 Byron, Lord 240 Caboodle 270 Cain 46,93, 123 Calamiles 219 fa 1m 275 Cambria county 137 Campbell 03 Canal, Pennsylvania Uil. 193,251,273 Canyon 2So Ctsvpillaries 272 Captives 54 Carbon iferons age 212. Care 6 i, 200 ( ards 277 Carnage 107 Carou-e 200 Cirrier-dove 2.5> Casement 274 Cassin, John 211 C : it 40. 204, 208 Cat-bird 212 Catfish 90 Caul 127-37 Cave 140 Celeron. T^ouis 2 i Cell-centre 293 Centennial 269 Century plant 271 Cerebration 290 Chalcedony 16, 20 Cbane 41, 146 r 192, 289> Chaos 201 Chapman, Thos. J. 16O Character, Her 248 Charm 202 Chautauqua 272 Cheat River 70 Cheek 103, 100, 277 Cheese- box 40 Chemist 207 Chert 16 Cherubim 266- Chesterfield. Lord 55 Chestnut Ridge 20, 164, 172", 233, 200 Choke-damp 224 Chicken 52, 209 Chicken-roost 191 Child 201, 161 Children 263- Chime 261 Chin 103, 141 Chinese 140 Christ, Jesus 138, 185, 120, 163, 283 Christmas 210 Cincinnati 193 Cirsium lanceolatum 26$ Clark, Gen. 89 Clark. Lady 193 (. lay 25, 288 Clay, Henry 130, Clay ton ia Virginica 109, 192 Clerk, Commissioners 172 Cloud 265, 257, 15 Clock 183, 294 Coal 228 Coal, Jester of Old 212 Coal-miner 39 Coat of mail 279 Cob 170 Coffee-mill crusher 3S Colchian land 282 INDEX, Comedy 191 I omet 227 Commissioners 172-lOf < ompass 258, 261 Concrete 2i, 41 Conemaugh ^2, 53, Hid, l )7, MO i oniuin niar iilutimi 2<>2 ( onnolly, l)i - . John 78-Ko Conscience 1(>0 Continental ou.ss 2~J Contrecceur 23 I on un drum 194 Converter 39 Convict, Irish. 6" Cooper, Major 111 Copper 235 Copperhead 28 Cork, liinu- ami .< i! Crow 19^-0 < orii-bread 72 Corpse 72, 259 Coronach 2a<> Cosmos 201 Cotton 272 Cough 262 <. oulon-Vi liters 3ti Counterblast 258 Cow 1 74-, 205 Cradle 281, 283 Craig, Margaret C. 59 Craig, Neville K, (>0, 62, K5 Cranes 2GS Crawford, Sarah 93-101 i rawlord, William 78, 71, 83-101 Creed, The Redman s 1^- 20 Oreigli, Dr. A. 18, 82 Cressap., CoU Michael S2 Crime, 140, 145, 144, *<> Crimson 272 Cr-ocodile-frogs 2iy Croll 219 Crow 10, 40, 4(i, 225-< Cro-*v, James 192 C ross 138 Crucible 273 Cunningham 102 Curl 146 Dagger 284 Dancing 274 Darkness 14, 279 Dart 24 Datura stramonium 202 Daughter (J6, 161, 239 Day 108, 261, 286 Day, Sherman 113, 139 Dead beat 271 Death 15, 89, 199, 213, 223, 240 243, 255-7, 265-7, 288. 284 Death-whoop 71, 108, 139 Decision 233 Deer 10, 158 Defeat 107 Del a wares 80, <4 Delight 131,213 Delirium tremens 111 Deli, Moll 201-2 Deli. Sentinel 47-53 Demon L,o> er, The 239-40 Descent 198 1 )esert of space 294 .Despair 14, 81, 104, 109, Hi 148, 248, 265, 289 Destiny 12 Devil 33, 79, 97, 189, SjJ Devotion 242 Dew 56, 236 Diabetes 110 . Diamond 235 Dimple 141, 163 Dinwiddi-e, Gov. 27, 3i Disease 284 Discord 255 Dissolution, -odor of 209, 215 Diviner s rod 203 Doctors 221 Deg, 102-4, 110-13, 200, 284 Dog-sun 107 Dome 282 Doom Jo, 294 Double sun 107 Doubt i:65, 277 Dragons 219 Drake, E. L.. 228 Dream 18, 166, 249, 252, 26* Dredge 15 Drudge 48 Drug 56 Drum 187,260 Drunkenness 31, 206 Dry Ridge 20 Duncan, David 102 Ducking-stool, The 82-Si Dun bar the Tardy 4, ? Duglison, Dr. Robley 136 Dun more, P^arl of 78, 80, 81 Dun more, Fort 7^-79 Dunrnore s War 81 Duprey 23-27 Duquesiie, Fort 31-4, ,57, 59 Du Quesne, Marquis 31-4 Dust 294 Eagle 245, 270 Ear ( verb) 283 Ear ( noun ) 30, 63, 25-5, 262, 282 Etirth 19, 30, 218, 243, 265, 283, 285, 288 Earthquake 264, 288 East 11 Eaton, S. J. M. 59 Echo 43 Economy 139-40 Eddy 291-4, 276 Edgar Thomson Steel Works 37 El Capitan 264 Elephant 271 300 INDEX. Elizabeth town 127 Flesh-fly 46 Elliot, Capt. Win. 110 Flint 16, 241 Elysium 266 Flood 287 England 29, 34, 86-7. 212 Flush 237 Environment 61, 290 Fob 49 Eon ids 243 Fool 214 Epigram 238, 240 Foot 224 Epilepsy 183 Foot- page 32 Epitaph 240 Forbes, Gen. John 1<>, 27.5r>. Error 41 57, 62 Erdspiegel 202 Force and Matter 13. 2(56, Kstaing, Compte d 31 281. 286,291-4 Evans, 111 Ford 37 Evening 237, 278 Foreman, Charles 85 Kvil 79, 87, 94, 189, 261 Evolution 2^3, 290-4 Fore-sight 122 Forest 9, 27, 37, 76, 288 Excise Law 113-27 Form of beauty 273 Existence 292 Fort captured 62 Eye 13, 30, 45, 63, 66, 106, 142. Fort Cumberland 43 146,166,179, 181, 191. 197, Fort Dun more 76, 78-9 227, 235-7, 255, 261, 272, 277, Fort Dumiesiie :- l-4, 57 59, 281-2 129 Eye-ball 18 JEy e and Imagination 238 Fort Diiqiiesne, Legend of 47 -53 Eye- lashes 279 Lort LaFayette 110 Eye-teeth 271 Fort Ligonier 58 Fort Machault 27, 59 Face 284 Fort Necessity 36 Faith 56 Fort Niagara 59 False 248 Fort Pitt 5-"), 59 Fame 55, 264 Fossils 9-17 Fancy 198, 265 Foster, Stephen C. 193, Fanny s Wood 251 2256 Fate 41, 108, 247 Foundry 273 Father 19, 44, 71, 92, 121, 161 Fawcett, Thomas 40, 42 Fourth of July Alterna tive 245 Fawn 25 Fox, the Ominous 90- 1 Fay 261 Fox 158 Fayette county 140,141 France, Lily of 23-27 Fealty 266 France 127 Fear 264, 266 Preeport 193, 226 February ?3 French war, the 87 Felspar 21 French in America, 23-27, Fen 22, 219 29, 31-34 Fern 219, 278 Frick, H. Clay 233 Feudal tower 265 Friction 260 Fiber zibethicus 209 Friedenstadt 92 Fiddler of Time 285 Friendship 262 Fiends 123, 260 Frog 220 Fiddlers 109, 213 Frost 76 Fife 187, 260 Fucus 228-31 Findley, Wm. 105 Fun 267 Finger 263 Fungus 217 Finite 291-4 Furnace 103-4 Fire 11, 13, 16, 202, 259, 26-5, Fur-trade 34 284, 287 Future 11. 291-4 Fire-bird 167 Fire-damp 221 Firefly 265, 280 Gad-fly 181 Gage, Gen. 80 Fire in Pittsburgh 228 Gain, greed of 47 Fire, St. Elmo s 52 Galleys 127 Fir tree 9 Gallitziu, Prince 1:57-8 Fist 292 Gambler 142 Flag 52 Flaget, Father 137 Gangway 103 Gauntlet 26-5 Flesh 273 Gayety 277 INS) EX. 301 Genii 260 George III. 72, 74 Ghost 25, 190, IPS, 217, .Ml, 279 <. host of Philip Rogers HI Gibfton. Col. John 81,86 (Jii I.V, Sin-on, to Colonel Crawford 93-100 <;ist. Bold ( lirUtorlKT 27-29 Gist, Thomas 7(i Glade 43, 56, 111 Glaive 26") Glamour 272 Glass 226-8 Glen HI Glory 33 Gnadenhiitten 88,91-3 Gnadeiihiietten, Mallet of 91-3, 96 Goblin 260 God 20,72,75, 79. 93, 97, 98, 109, 1X9, 261, 206, 282, 291-4 God, man of 57 Gods of the Redman 19-22 Gold, Braddock s 44-17 Gold 202. 227. 235, 2(56 Golden fleece 282 Good 36, 79, 87, 94, 189, 261 Goose 111, 2X8 Gossamer 274 Gotthold. . I. Newton 105 Gourd 220 Gout 264 Grace, L.ove 8 Holy 23<i Grandmother 237 Grandsire 44,71,92, 127 Grant, Major 56, 63 Grave 26, 35,. 43, 63, 263, 26,"), 281 Grapeville Ridge 20 Graveyard Grotesques 240-1 Gray hairs 217 Greece 282 Greed, grave of 133 Greed 236 Green 287 Green county 141 Greensburg 73, 212, 251 Grief 148 Grose, Francis 251 Grotesques, Graveyard 240-1 Grudge 48 Guitar 262 Gulf of the Giver 16, 101 Gully 39 Gnyasoolha 60-62 Guyasootha s War 87 Had I Wist 29 Hail 89 Hair 24, 51, 66, 92, 126, 142, 151, 166, 217, 235 Halket, Sir Peter 40, 42 Ha 1 isi etti s Lowe .<( } 1 \ a 1 c s 245 Halket 62 Halidom 24, 218 Hlo 261 Uaise 117 Hiininmelis Vlrgiiiinna 20: Hammock 277 Hand 66 Hand, earth -freed 11, 16 Hands clapped 283 Hanna, Robert 73, 74 Haiinastowu 61. 62,72-78 J>;i 84-86 lliiiiuastoivii , Heroine of 101-2 Haro, C. I. 26 Harlot 244 Harmony Society. 139-40 Harporhyiichus rulus 22 Harper of Death 255 Harrison, 8arah 93-101 Gen. Win. 20 Mai. Win. 100 Httrvcst 200 Haste 94 Hank 26( Hay 267 Hat 31 Hate ! 8, 122, 252 Haze 278 Hazel 202 Haunted MOM, The 110- K? Head 15, 34, 51, 81, 244 Headless Heart, The 170- Head of Iron, The, See Forbes Heart 15, 24, 28, 30, 34, 35, 41, 64, 66, 81, 94, 106. 227-8, 24 1 . 24 1 , ^C3, 277 79 281 293 Heart a Braddock 41 a Hal ket 41 Heart Entombed. TU- 237 Heart, The Headless 170- Heatii 28,56, 89,140 Heaven 18, 30, 35. 39, 98, 10! 108, 117, 168, 215, 266, 288, 292-3 Hebrew 18, 282 Hell 18,30, 35, 39. 46, 69, 7.",, 98,104, 108, 123, 129, 161, 168, 215. 244, 265, 289 Hell, The Hoary Old He ro of 141-60 If el met 265 Hematite 201 Hemlock (Abies) 20, 138 Hemlock ( Conivm ) 202 Hermit Crahs, Literary 245 Hero 101 Hickory 177, 191 Highest type 293 Highlanders 62-5 302 INDEX. Highway of life 166 Hill, A. F. 141, 192 Hindo 282 Hindoo Sage 256 Historians 34 Hoar-frost 260 Hobbies 264 Hog 284 Hoi croft, John 115 Holkar, John 103 Holy Essence 266 Homage 266 Honesty 122 Hope 265 Horizon 291-4 Horrell, John 110 Horror 51, 123. 1 13 Horse 205, 258 Horseshoe 202 House- snake 191 Howard, William 77-s Hub 55 Huffnagle, Michael 101 Hug 34 Human 286 Humanity 226, 227 Humility 265 Humor 194 Hunter 104 Hunter, Col. Samuel ss Hunter, Col. Robert 110-13 Husband and wife 15, 16 Husk 272 I" 283 Ice 9-16, 83, 198, 236, 259 Icicle 287 Idea vs the eye 18, 137, 107, 124-27 Idol 282 Ignorance 24 Imagination and the Eye 238 Immortality 58, 82, 282 Immortelle 247 Incomprehensible 283 Inanition 294 Indecision 232 Independence. American 86-7 India 282 Indians 10. 29, 53, 55, 60, 70, 87. 202 Indian -pipe 192 Indian Summer 76, 138,251 Individuality 281, 292 Involution 291-4 Infamy 107 Infant 283 Infinite 291-4 Infinity 272 Ingot 38 Ingratitude 49, 186 Ingratitude of Republic 105-9 Inquisitor 264 Insanity 1 4-7 Ireland SH-7 Irish CoiiA-ict, The 67-70 Iron 102-4, 201 Iron-horse 38 Isabel 239 Isabel Dell 47-53 Israel, lost tribe of 18 Irvine, Gen. Wm. 89,99 Izard 271 "Jack" 283 Jackson, Andrew 19 Jackson, R. M. S. 191,200 201-2, 223, /26 Jacobs, Captain 53 Jail 170 Jailer 170 Jasper 16, 20, 24 Jealousy 32 Jeanot and Jeanette 23 Jehovah 2X> Jefferson, Thomas 16 Jester of Old Kins Coal 212-24 Jew 264 Jewels I Prize 235 Jew spectacled 18 Jim Crow, King Cork and 192 JimsoH weed 202 "John" 283 Johnson, Andrew 25-5 Johnston, Gen. 60 James 59 William 160 Jolift; Luke 76 Jones, William R. 38, 42 Jossakeed 169 192 Joshua 243 Jove 205, 266 Joy 100, I M, 140, 181, 266 Judges 90 Judgment Day 211 .1 11 moii v i 11 . Grave of 35- 36 June 122 Juniata 54 Katy-Did 248 Keg 2a5 Kelp. King of 228-31 Kelpie 260 Key 33 Killdeer 206 Kincaid, James 84-6 King Cork and Jim Crow 192 King, Dr. A. T. 212 King of serpents 180-92 King of the Kelp 228-31 Kirchoff, Professor 227 Kiskiminetas 22, 53 Kiss 33, 89, 147-8, 166, 175, 207, 235-7, 244-6, 249, 252, 285 Kiss, Last of Love 246 INDEX. 303 Kit ta 1111 in;; 53-4 Knight, Dr. John 93 Knout 201 Kiihleborn 19S Lady, Letter to 242-3 Lady of Life 288 Lady s Lament, Love- Loni, 235 La Kayette, Fort 110 Lake 258, 272 Lament, Lochry s 88-90 Lament, Love-lorn La dy s 2,55 Lamp, Slave of the 228-31 Lash, the 73-8 Last 292 Last Kiss of Love 216 Last Man, The 291-4 Last of the Mammoths 9-17 Laughter 32, 194, 262, 275 Laura 285 Laurel Hill 20, 164, 179, 203 Lava 103 Law-abiding man, the 119 Laws 72 Lawsuit 238 Lawyers 9 J, 221 Lead 186 Leaf 5-i, 147, 257, 272 Leaf-mould 20 Lear, King 198 Leather 272 Leather Breeches 90 Lechery 48 Ledger of life 217 Lee, Gov. 116 Leg 51, 265 Legend of Weeping Wil low 2-50-4 Leghorn, Port of 129 lie man 47 Lenore 2i5 Lemoyne, Captain 47-53 Leper 284, 288 Lesley, Peter 201 Let ter from God 202 Letter to a Lady 212-3 Liar 210. 244 Life 88, 138 Light 88, 138 Lightning 21, 28, 39, 51, 101, 143, 205, 258, 265. 276, 287 Ligonier 59, 164, 203 Lily 119 Lily of France 23-7 Limners 278 Limpet 252 Lion 56 Lip 142, 272 Literary Hermit Crabs 245 Little Hatchet 270 Lizard 265 Loathing 33 Lochry, Archibald 88-90 Lochry s Lament 88-90 Logan, James 81 Logan, the Mingo 81-2 Logos 201 Loon 54 Lord, the 26t> Loretto 137 Lost tribe of Israel 18 Louisiana, 23-7,47-53 L*>uis XIV 23 Louis XV 32, 47 Love 58, 100, 101, 117, 196, 205, 233, 235-7, 212, 244, 252, 26J Love, Last Kiss of 246 Love-lorn Lady s La ment 255 Love or Lucre 34 Lover 23 Lover, The Demon 239-40 Love s Holy Grace 236 Love s Rule of Three 247 Love, Washington in 58 Loving and Longing 238 Loyal hanna 58-9 LoysLhanua 105-6 Lucre 3t Lungs 284 Lust 31-J, 47-52, 147-9, 249, 284 Lute 262 Lyell, Sir Charles 212 Lynx 28, 53 M 283 Machault, Fort 27 Mad-dog 109 Magazine 31 Maggots 40, 46 Mahoning, Maid of 231-2 Maid 237-8 Maid and Mirage 164-9 Maid of Mahouiug 231-2 Male and female 281 Mallet 91-3 Mallet of Onadenhuet- ten, The 91-3, 9o Mammoth-hunter 9-17 Mammoths, Last of 9-17 Man 19, 189, 214, 233, 258, 281, 286 Man and Mammoth 9-17 Man and wife 15 Man and woman 15-6, 141, 166 Manhood 198, 263 Manito of Redman 20-2 Man-of-war 263 Man, the Allegheny 15 Man, to Yon 241 Maple 236 Marmie, The Fate of 102-4 Marriage 159 - Mars 39 Marshes 22 INDEX. Marsh -gav 224 Mary, Holy 2*3 Mast 203 Masterson, Pat John 73 Mastodon 0, 16 Matin -bell 13x Maternity 2>3 Matter 267, 281, 286, 291-1 Matter and force 13. Maud L 73, 283 May 212 MeCletn s Ford 70 McUormick, Judge iH M^Cullougb, John 17,22. 59, 99, 2i)0 McKay, ^.neas .79 McKenxie 63 "*l< a son . Sa in, tlie Robber Melancholy 122, 234- ), 246 Melody 2S:i Melody, Negro 192 Melons 40 Memory s mad-dog li9 Mercer. Col. 5!, 62 Meteor 215 Mexico, Gulf of -JM Meyersaale 202 Mi dares 275 Mifflin, Gov. 1!6 Might SS Milk 174 T 2(>1, 20") Milky Way 256, 281 Miller s Fort 102 Mimus Carolinensis 2!2, 223 Mini us polyglottua 226 Mind 26 >, 261, 291 Miner 39, 214 Miner s song 216 Minstrelsy, Negro 192 Mira 237 Mirage 265 Mirage, Tlie Inlaid ami 16 1 Mirror 280 Mirth 2l:{, 285. 288 Mississippi 9, 127 Mist 119, 198,202. 287 Mockery 18,72 Mocking-bird 22-5, 239 Modesty 117 Mold of humanity 273 Mole 147 Molehill 11 Moll Dell 201 Monoiurahela L~>, 17, 36, 42, 70, 23 1 Monotropa uuiflora 192,231 Monster ol M<x>n 197, 202, 243, 261, 277, 285 Moonlight 197, 200 Moravians 55,88,91 Morgan,*Gen. Daniel 76 Mormon, Book of 17 Morn 237 Morris, Robt. Hunter S7 Morrow, Col. Robert 2>j Mortal 58 Moss 219 Mother 19,66.71,92, 121, 16J, 237, 257, 283 Mother, Holy 13s Mother-in-law 84. 2 U Mother-naked 117 Motion 273 Mound- builders 17 Mountains 28 Mount Braddock 27 Mouth 14L Alt. Pleasant 161 Mud 3S Mullein 18 Munro 63 Murder 4o, 72 r 140, 141. 149- Murderer 277 Musca volens 245 Music 212, 22), 21*;, 262, 274 V 285 Musk 272 Musfcrat 209 Mutineers 131 My Eye and Betty Martin 69 Mysticism 282 Myth 15,47,125 Myth of Braddock * Qold 44 Myth of Mammoth 16 Myth ol White deer 26 Name 55, 264 Natal nook 12 Nature and Art 242 Necessity, Fort 36 New France, 23, 47 Negress 286 Negro 226 Negro Melody 192, 225 Negro Minstrelsy 192, 225 Nemesis 123 Neville, John 78, 86, Nevin, Robert P. 92, 191 New 219 Newt 202 Niagara 284 Niagara, Fort 59 Night 108,229,2*7,286 Nightshade 255 Night-workers 136 Nirvani 266 Noon 237 North 15 Norway 263 Nose 238, 287 November 141 Nuttall 223 Oak 37, 56. 62, 258 Oak -ivy 28 Oar 282 Octobv r 76, 272 Ogle, Gen. 105 Ohio 9, 20,22 INDEX. 305 Ohio-gheny 233 Ohio Pyle falls 233 Oh, I Would Love You Alway 237 Oil 20-J, 24i Old 219 Olii ivi iig Coal, The Jes ter of 212 Old State Robber 191, 231 Oliver, James B. 102 Once, and Once Only 219 Opossum 191 Orange 217 Oratory 81 Orbs 294 Orgasm 231 Ormsby, John 57, 59 Orphan 210 Owl 10, 56, 178, 203, 211, 25S Ox 258 Packsaddle Gap 197, 200 Paleface 22, 139 Panther 28, 108 Pappoose 88 Paralysis 162 Parapet 49 Pardee 47, 53 Parnassus 280 Pair 291 Passion 244, 284, 293 Past 11, 279, 291 Pattern 273 Peace, Man of 58 Peapp-Pipe 57 Peach 202, 273 Pean, Madame 31 Pearl 236, 266, 274 Peas 271 Penn, John 88 Penn, William 79 Pestilence 202 Petroleum 202-3, 228-31 Phantasy 30, 252, 272 Philadelphia 211, 212, 268 Philosophy 219, 281, 289 Phosphorescence of Sea 256-57 Pibroch 63 Picket 41 Picket, Luke 73 Pie 271 Piegnot, M. 224 Pillory, The 77-78 Pine 219, 262, 263 Pit-posts 217 Pitt, Port 55 Pittsburgh 9, 23, 37, 47, 53, 55, 61, 65, 68, 76, 82,. J27, 225,228 Pitt, William 51-55 Pipe, Captain 95, 99 Pipe of Peace 57 Piper Lad, The 62, 61 Pipes 56 Pirates 130 Place of Hogs 92 Plagiarists 215 Plane-tree 2)3 Platan us o-cidentalis 2)) Pleas in i Unity 212 Pleasure 2.J3 Plutarch 2H Poesy 274,281, 290 Poesy and Science 223-8 Poet 211,2*) Pontia-i 61. (52 Pontiac s War 87 Pool 37 Poplar, Silver-leaf 198,2:)0 Pop ill i IK Alba 20) Port Pitt 117-37 Post, Christian Fred erick 5>-53 Post to Pillar, From 77-78 Potato 233 Pouchot, M. 31 Powder 67-70 Praise 231 Prayer 261, 233 Prayer, Man of 57 Pt-ecipicj 24 Pride 41, 101, 103,251, 231 Prince of Oil 2JJ Prinos verticillatus 212 Printing-office 23) Provance, Wm. Yard 70 Proverb 183, 192, 225 Prow 271 Pulpit-boy 39 Pumpkins 271 Puncheon 163 Purple 272 Pyranga rubra 169 Pyre 259 Quadruped 231 Quartz 16 Quarry 104 Rabble and Rout 10 Rack 261 Rag-baby 271 Railroad 38 Rain $9, 360 Rainbow 35, 2J6 Rain-drop 230 Randolph Ridge 20 Rapids 2S1 Rapp, George 133-40 Rat 170 Rattlesnake 29, 133, 170 Rattlesnake bond 170 Raven 165 Raw red Root 146 Rebuke of the Sage 256-7 Recollection 294 Red 272 Red- headed Woodpecker 64-65 Red- maple 2:36 Reed 219 306 INDEX. Heed. Joseph SS Heel 2>9 Reflex action 1!U Religion 282 Remorse 153 Revengu 40, 76 Revolution v9i- Revolu ic.n, The M), S7 I thus VMS, 29, 1-W, 2<)2 Khyme 285 RhyrnenHud Jingles 2 is Rice, W. I). 193-0 Kiddle :-12 Ridj-e 61, 28") Uidtrer 172: Rigdon ."Sidney is Right 78, 88, 122 Knit; 2ol, 277 Ripe 274 River 258 River of Blood, see Ohio Rivers 2S Kock 110 Rockets -27", 2M Rocks 2> Royers. Philip 141-W Rose 117. 11 .), I*!), 277 Ruby i> . Hum 3 ; ). 31 Rllpp. I. 1). OS, I M Rust 252 Ruslies v!l Sage, Kelmke of 2"i:i-7 2tii..2;s St. Clair, Artliur 7-i, 7J, S(j, iOt-i st. Clair. Murray l i!l St. K lino s Fire ii 2 St. Lawrence 2- ] >>t. Pien - e, J^egardeur de J7 salix Baby Ion ica 21 Sal mo tontinalis 2lo Salt, Salt Sea 10 !) Salt- well 160 Sanl 2-) San dusky IK) Sapling 10 sargasso, Sea of 22S Sargent, Winthrop i>2, :>, 41.4:5 satiety :W, 14."> Savage 29, (>-) Scales 21.7 S<-;t!p 10S St-ailp Preiuiuiu, Tlu- S7- M, 91 Scapegoat 4- 5 Scar 51 science 201, 26 Science. Academy of 212 Science and Poesy 2-/ti S Schooners 127 Scold, punishment of >2-.si Strops asio 2 : IS, 211 Scorn (i2 Scotland 53, (52, (17. 80. tf7 Scythe 27. 197, 262, 293 Sea 256 Sea of Eternal Rest l(i Sea of Forever 71 Sea-rover 266 Sea- weed 228- 31, 25 > Seed 138,267 Seeing and Blind 14 Selfishness 1J5, 244 Self-comprehensible 2t)l Self-torture 279 Sensation 293 Senses, the 133 Sequence 292 Seven Years War 23, 34, 35 Sexton 267 Shalt 216 Sharks 219 Shaw, Margaret 101 Shells 255 Sherrard, Robert A. 100 Shingis 5:5 Shins 45 SIip. The Spec* re 127-37 Shooting-star 245 Shroud 71, 90 Shuffle 194 Signet ring 261 Silence 2X9 Silk 176,272 Silken suckling 92 Silkmoth 139 Silver 227, 235 Silvered sage 92 Silkworm . To A 218 Silkworm 139 Sin 44-7, 161, 160-4, J02, 2i7 Sin. ship of 135 Sister 121 Skull 40, 260, 285, 291 Sky 260, 272 Slave 72. 265 Slave of tlie Lamp 2.N-231 Slavery 194 Slaves 133-7, 225 Sledge 45, 274 Sleep 266, 276 Sleet 89 Slime 28o Slouch 38 Slover 99 Small Potatoes 271 Smell, Sense of L-ll Smile 237,275 Smith 79 Smith, Devereux 79 Smith, Elizabeth 84-S6 Smith, Father 137 Smith, James* 99 Smith, Joseph 17 Smith, Philip 91 Smith, Rev. Joseph 90 Snag 52 Snail 279 INDKX. 307 Snakes 21 Snow 9, 89, 90, 207, 259 Somerset 201, 20:5 Son of God 292 Song -sorceress 262 Sorrow 218, 2(57 Soul 127-38, 266, 279, 2SI, 291 South 15, 52 Space 293 Spanish-boot 204 Spaukling, Rev. Solomon 17 Spear 11 Spectre 261 Spectre of the Button- wood 197-200 Spectre Ship of Port Pitt 127-37 Spectrum Analysis 22li Speed 94 Spider 170, 236 Spinster 282 Spite 122 Spring 35, 213, 230, 261, 267 Spring-beauty 169, 19J Squash 271 Squaw 88, 94 Staff 263 Stahlstown 1(54 Star 24, 95, 165, 215, 215, 246, 256, 281 Statute 143 Steal tli 45 Steam 25 -i Steamboat 37 Steel 273 StiiiMou, Mejjgie 66 Stobo 62 Stockley, Captain 88 Stolen sweets 1(56 Storm 37, 51, 62, 166, 1! 17-3)0 234, 257. 275-6, 287 Story of Poor Little Sue 2U6 Stout, Ebenezer 113-27 Stout, Peggy 113-27 Straw 272 Stream of space 293 Sty the 224 Sublimity 81 Sue. Story of Poor Little 206 Suicide 145 Sulphur 204 Summer 213,236, 243, 2(50, 2S7 Sum organic 293 Sun 19, 71, 95, 107 202, 27, 243, 260, 278, 285 Sunset 278 Superstition 201-2 Sutler 33 Swamp-maple 236 Swank, James M 103 Swath 294 Swoon 276, 289 Sword 265 Sycamore 200 Symbol 277 Symbolism 272 Sympathy 170-192 Taiiuger 169 Tapestry 2(56 Tar and feathers 113-27 Tears 101,278 Teasel 140 Tecumseh 1! Teeth 264 Telegiaphy 258 Telescope eye 280 Temperance 206 Tempest 260 Ton-it ion 264 Thenaropua lieterodiictylas Thew 281 Thief 77, 202 Thickets 2S Thirst 112 Thistle 25S Thomas, M. 35 Thorn 277 Thorn-apple 202 Thought 11, 55, 249, 280, 291-4 Thought, apparition of 12 Thought of God 294 Thrash e"r 226 Thrush 226 Thumb-screw 264 Thunder 21, :, 51, 101, 113. 265, 276, 287 Thunder-bolt 13 Tide 228 Time 229, 261, 262,- 292 Time, Fiddler of 2S5 Time, Lliver of 15 Toad 2(55 Toad-stool l!s Toast 23, 142 Tocsin 262 Tomahawk 39, 107. 13* Tomb 237,240 Tom tlie Tinker s Time, A Tale of 1 13-27 Tongue 63 Tooth 2fi2 Tooth, Halkefs 40, 42 Tooth, Mammoth s 9, 15 Totem ic 262 Toy 177, 272 Traders, Indian 67 Train- boy 38 Traitor s tree 12ii Tramp 40 Tteasure-trove 41 Triple whirl of earth 291 Troth 148 Trotter, Sergeant III Trout 213, 232 True 248 Trust of Love 276 Truth 117, 141.262. 290 Truth, Man of 56 308 INDEX. Turnbull andMarmie 102 Turtle Creek 42, 56 Tunnel -head 103 Tusk 13 Twilight, 62 Twin 23 Ubiquity 274, 283 Undertaker 222, 238 Undine 198 Valhalla 66 Vampire of hell 240 Vanity 264, 281 Varmint 79 Veech, James 71,93 Vein 272 Vengeance 6, 98, 107 Venango 26, 59, 228 Vest 271 Vice 248 Victor 261 Victory 282 Vines, a compass 28 Violin 274 Viiginla 78 84 Virtue 248 Vise 45 Visions 93 Voice 118,248,262,275 Voice of ilie Anvil 25< Volcano 288, 103 Vortical 277 Vortex 181, 284. 291-4 Wake 259 WaJk-aiound 194 Waltz 276,284-5 Want 44 War 58, 262 Ward, Ensign 23 Warblers 258 War-whoops 21 Washington City 255 Washington, George 16, 27, 29, 30-36, 41, 56. 58, 60, 62, 68, 99 Washington (town) 90 Water 202, 236, 258, 265 Water-boy 38 Water-shed 10 Water-spout 287 Wax 273 Wax figures 204 Wax- pipe 189, 231-2 W T ayne, Gen. Anthony 110 Wedge 45, 274 282, 293 Wedge of Life 393 Weeping 89 Weeping Willow, Le gend of 250-4 Weevil 260 West 11,87 Westmoreland 72, 73, 106, 141, 170 Wheat 267 Westmoreland, Witch o 203-5 Wheel 264 Whipping-Post. The 73 Whirlpool 276 Whirlwind 21 Whiskey 67-70, 192 Whiskey Insurrection 113-27 Whisper 262 White and Red-man 22, 139 White-damp 224 White deer 25-27 White Rocks 141-60, Widow 210 Wife 16,149,241,263 Wild-cat 56 Wild-fire 27,37 Wild-goose 268 Will 233 Williams, Polly 141-60 Williams, Aaron 139 Williamson, Col. David 88, 91-3 Will o the wisp 287 Wind 258,260,287 Wind-flower 169,190 Wine 140 Winter 213, 236, 257, 287 Wisdom 24, 26, 262 Witch 49,201-2, 203-5 Witchery 30 Witchery of words 30 Witch hazel 202 \Vitch of Westmor eland 203-5 Wizard 260 Woe 101, 290 Wolf 10, 28,40, 56, *8, 94 Womb 21,39,58 Woman 205, 233, 235, 244, 248, 273, 281, 285 Woman, The Monongahela 15 Woman at Whipping-post Wonder 143 Wood, Alphonso 200, 236 Woodpecker 64-65 Worm 265, 299 Worms 199 Wrong 78, 122 Wrath 27, 197 Yankee Doodle 270 Yoni 202 Yosemite 264 Youghiogheny 233 Youghiogheny county 82 You eh, The Dare-Devil 233-4 Youth 140,198, 231, 262, 263, 267 Zomara 255 Zest 13 APPENDIX. Afin que les honorables emprises & nobles auentures & faicts d armes, par les guerres de France & d Angleterre, soient notablem^t enreg- istrez & mis en memoire perpetuel, parquoy les preux ayent exe ple d eux encourager en bien faisant, ie vueil traicter & recorder Histoire de grand louange. LES CRONIQVES DE MESSIRE JEAN FROISSART: PROL: THE BATTLE BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS OF SO UTHWESTEBN PENNSYL VANIA AN APPENDIX TO SOUTHWESTERN PENNSYLVANIA IN SONG AND STORY WITH NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS B Y PR A NK CO WA N. GREENSBURO, PA. PRINTED BY THE A UTHOR. MDIIILXXV1II. Entered/accorcling to Act of Congress, in the year 1878, by FRANK COWAN, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washing ton, D. C. TO DR. CHARLES M. TREE, OF M ASHINGTON, D. C., IX REMEMBRANCE OF A RAMBLE WITH H r M OVER THE HISTORIC HILLS OF SOUTH WESTKKN PENNSYLVANIA IN THE CENTE X N I A I, V EA R OF AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE, THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED BY THE AUTHOR. PREFACE, The following poems are taken mainly from two unpublished collections of the writer which may be designated as "The Battle Ballads of America," and "The Poets and Poetry of South western Pennsylvania." With the exception of a ballad entitled " Harmar s Defeat. 1 detailing the disastrous results of the expedition against the Indians in 1790. and a ballad recounting the exploits in the West of a certain John Scull of Pittsburgh possibly the old-time printer, but more probably a later-day hero the following pages contain all the Battle Ballads of South western Pennsylvania of which the writer has any knowledge. CONTENTS. INTROD UCTOR Y. Pennsylvania in 1692, By Richard Frame 321 THE FRENCH WAR, 1754 1759. Juiiioiwille, By M. Thomas 320 Peter Mercier, From the Pennsylvania Ga/.ette 32s Awaiting Braddock, From the Pennsylvania Gazette 32!) Braddock s Rally, By a Contemporary Poet 32!i Braddock s Defeat, By a Contemporary Poet 331 The CJrave of Braddock, From the Gentleman s Magazine !3:> Braddock s Deserters, From the Gentleman s Maga/ine 333 Ode to the Inhabitants of Pennsylvania, From the Pennsylvania Gazette 33) LORD DUNMORJE N WAR, 1771. The Battle of Point Pleasant, By a Contemporary Poet 337 THE REVOLUTION, 1775 1783. The Pennsylvania Song, From Dunlap s Packet t 33i The King s Own Regulars, ( Braddoek, ) From the Pennsylvania Evening Post 33* The<Battle of Trenton, (St. Clair,) By a Contemporary Poet 341 Trenton and Princeton, (St. Clair, ) By a Contemporary Poet 343 The Battle of Princeton, (St. Clair, > By a Contemporary Poet 311 A Song for the Red- Coats, (St. Clair, j By a Poet of the Revolution 346 CCCXV111 CONTENTS. The Fate of John Bnrgoyiie, fSt. Clair, ) By a Contemporary Poet IXDIAX WARS, 1782 1791. Crawford s Defeat, 1782, By Dr. John Knight ........................................ :{.>; Simon Girty, By an Unknown Writer ................................ 357 Moore s Lamentation, 1786, By a Contemporary Poet .............................. ;>57 Tlie Massacre of the Moore Family, Another Version ............................................. :><>o .St. CljiirsDefcaI,1791, By Major Eii Lewis ........................................ 361 Sincl air s Defeat, Mci alla s, <>r McCanley s version ................. 3(H Tin Defeat of St. Clair, By William Munford ..................................... 307 Miami A Monody, To the Memory of the Young Heroes who fell at the Miami, under General St. Clair ........................................................... :>>77 THE \VH1KKEY /AWA A AY "/7O.Y. 1794. To Whiskey, By the "Scots-Irishman," David Bruce To Alexander Addison, By the same To Hugh Henry Braclceiiridge, By the same ................................................... 385 To Alexander F. Dallas, By the same .................................................... 386 A Canny "Word to the Democrats, By the same .................................................... 386 Whiskey, ilk Reply to the Scots-Irishman, By H. H. Brackcnrklge ................................. 387 M1SCELLA NEO US, 1798 1810 To Albert Gallatin, 1798, By David Bruce .............................................. :wj Democratic Doggerel, 1799, By H. H. Brackenridge ................................. 393 CONTENTS. CCCX1X A Review of the Worthies, 1801, By David Bruce 39-5 The Indian Chief, 1 SO 1 , By Sally Hastings 398 Pleasant Ohio, 1804, A Song by an Unknown Writer 402 Polly Williams, ixio. By Samuel Little 402 The Murder of Polly Williams, By A. F. Hill 4i)> Beaver s Boots, By John Greiiier 410 Handsome Mary, the Lily of the West, A Ballad of the Boatmen of the Ohio 414 The Boat Horn, By William O. Butler m THE WAR OF IS 12. The Pennsylvania Line, By a Contemporary Poet 4H The Mournful Tragedy of James Bird, By a Contemporary Poet 42J Perry s Victory on Lake Erie, Several Ballads pertaining to I2i ERRATA. Page 341, line 21, for " they had much to brag of," read " they had not much to brag of." Same page, line 32, for "Riveries," read "Rivieres." Page 358, line 10, instead of What became of Miss Ivins is not known, " reaJ " Miss Ivins rem ained.fr pris oner until released. She stated to Fa nss Moore, the son, that the burning of his mother and sister was done by a band of Cherokees who were returning from an excur sion in which they had lost several of their party, and not by the Shawnees who had taken them. " Page 405, line 5, for "their" read " her. " THE BA TTLE BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS OF SO UTHWESTERN PENNSYL VAN1A. PENNSYLVANIA IN 1692. At the time the follow! 112 poem was written the first poem of Pennsylvania, by ihe bye, of which there is an authentic record the wilderness of Southwestern Pennsylvania, included by the French within the boun daries of Louisiana, and by the British within the terri tory of the Province of Pennsylvania, was inhabited exclusively by the Naked Indians, Cloathed with their Skins, who, in the preceding pages, were represented as the successors in this region of the Mammoth-hunters and the Mound -builders. A Short Description of Pennsilvania, or, A Relation What things are known, enjoyed, and like to be discov ered in the said Province. By Richard Frame. Printed and Sold by William Bradford in Philadelphia, 1692. To all our Friends that do desire to know, What Country tis we live in, this will show. Attend to hear the Story I shall tell, No doubt but you will like this Country well. We that did leave our Country thought it strange, That ever we should make so good Exchange : I think tis hard for me for to express, How God provided in a Wilderness, arge, a wo Wolves, and Bears and P Foxes, Raccoons and Otters dwelleth here, Beside all these the Nimble footed Dear ; 322 PENNSYLVANIA IN 1692. The Hare so lightly runs for to escape ; Yet here are things of a more stranger shape, The Female Possum, which I needs must tell ye, Ts much admired with her double Belly ; Trie Belly for her Meat, she hath beside Another where her Young Ones use to hide. O strauire ! tis hard, I think, fur me to name The Multidudes of Beasts, both Wild and Tame : Beavers here are, whose Skins are soft as Silk, Horses to Ride on, Cows to give us Milk, Beside the Beasts, whose Nature is so Rude, To speak of them, I think I must Conclude. As for the Flocks of Fowle, and Birds, pray mind, The Swans, and Geese, and Turkeys in their kind r The Turkey- Buzzard and Bald Eagle high, Wild Ducks, which in great Companyes do fly ; More sorts of Fowle here are than I need tell, Yet here are other things, which do excell. The Fields, most fruitful, yield such Crops of Wheat, And other things most excellent to eat, As Barley, Rye, and other sorts of Grain ; In peace we plow, we sow, and reap again, Good Indian Corn, which is a larger breed, [t doth our Cattle, Swine, and Horses feed, Buck- Wheat and. Oats, beside, good store of Reed, A plentiful Land, plentiful indeed, For Plants, and Roots, and Herbs, wee l let them be, To name the Fruit that grows upon each Tree: The fruitful Trees do flourish, and are green, Where Apples, Peaches, Quinces, Plumbs are seen, With other fruits, whose glittering faces shine, The Grapes grow plenty on the fruitful Vine ; Wall-Nuts, Chestnuts, Hazel-Nuts appear, These things are plenty with us every year. More things I can relate, for all is true, And yet, not give the Country half his due. Also, here is of divers sorts of Fish, So good, so pleasant as a man need wish, Within our Rivers, swimming to and fro, PENNSYLVANIA IN 1692. 323 Crreat ones we catch, but small ones let them go. Here are more things than I can well express, Strange to be seen in such a Wilderness. By Day we work, at Night we rest in Peace, So that each Day our Substance doth increase : O blessed be his Name, who duth provide For you, and us, and all the World beside. The first part that I writ is good indeed, But yet perhaps the second may exceed : The Truth in Rhyme, which I do here compose, It may be spoken thus, as well as Prose ; Therefore unto my words once more attend ; Here are more Properties T shall commend. The Riches of this Land it is not known, What in the after Ages may be shown ; My words are true, for here were lately found Some Precious Mettle under-neath the Ground, The which some men did think was Silver Oar, Others said Copper, but some think tis more. They say there is a vein of Lead or Tin, Where choicer Mettle lodgeth furthur in : So divers men have divers judgements spent, And so the matter lies in Argument. If men would venture for to dig below, They may get well by it, for ought I know ; Those Treasures in the Earth which hidden be, They will be good, whoever lives to see. A certain place here is, where some begun To try some Mettle, and have made it run, Wherein was Iron absolutely found, At once was known about some Forty Pound. We know no end to this great Tract of Land, Where divers sorts of -Timber Trees doth stand, As mighty Oaks, also, here s Cedars tall, And other sorts, tis hard to name them all, The strong Hickery, Locust and lofty Pine. Tis strange to see what Providence divine Hath in this World ordained for to be, Which those that live at home do never see 324 PENNSYLVANIA IN 1692. I also give you here to understand What People first inhabited the land : Those that were here before theStoeeds and Fins, Were Naked Indians, Cloathed with their skins, Which can give no account from whence they came; They have no Records for to shew the same ; But I may think, and others may suppose What they may be, yet I think few men knows, Unless they are of JEsati s scattered Seed, Or of some other wild corrupted Breed. They take no care to plow, nor yet to sow, Nor how to till their Land they do not know, Therefore by that we may observe it plain, That this can hardly be the Seed of Cain; Some men did think they were the scattered Jews, But yet I cannot well believe such News : They neither do New Moons nor Sabbath keep, Without much Care they eat, they drink, they sleep ; Their care for Worldly Riches is but light, By Day they hunt, and down they lie at Night, Those Infidels that dwelleth in the Wood, I shall conclude of them so far so good. You that will seek a Country strange, Attend to what is true, All that are willing to Exchange, An Old place for a New. We that our Country did forsake, And leave our Native Land, Will do the best we can to make Our Neighbours understand. Although I have a good intent, Yet hardly can express, How we, through Mercy, were content In such a Wilderness. When we began to clear the Land, For room to sow our Seed, And that our Corn might grow and stand, For Food in time of Need, Then with the Ax, with Might and Strength, The Trees so thick and strong, PENNSYLVANIA IN 1692. 325 Yet on each side, such strokes at length. We laid them all along. So when the Trees, that grew so high. Were fallen to the ground, Which we with Fire most furiously To Ashes did Confound. Then presently we sought for Wood, I mean (not Wood to burn, But for) such Timber, choice and good, As fitted well our turn. A city, and Towns were raised then, Wherein we might abide. Planters also, and Husband-men. Had Jjand enough beside. The best of houses then was known, To be of Wood or Clay, But now we build of Brick and Stone, Which is a better way. The Names of some of our Toicns. Philadelphia, that great Corporation, Was then, is now our choicest Habitation, Next unto that there stands the German- Town Also, within the Country, up and down, There s Haverford, where th Welch-men do abide, Two Townships more, I think, they have beside: Here s Bristol, Plymouth, Aeivtown, here doth stand, Chester, Springfield, Marple in this land, Darby, and other famous Habitations, Also, a multitude of New Plantations. The German- Toion^ of which I spoke before, Which is, at least, in length one Mile or More, Where lives High- German People, and Low- Dutch, Whose Trade in weaving Linnin Cloth is much, There grows .the Flax, as abo you may know, That from the same they do divide the Tow ; Their Trade sits well within their Habitation, We find Convenience for their Occupation, 326 JUMONVILLE. One Trade brings in employment for another, So that we may suppose each Trade a Brother ; From Linnin Rags good Paper doth derive, The first Trade keeps the second Trade alive : Without the first the second cannot be, Therefore since these two can so well agree, Convenience doth approve to place them nigh. One in the German- Town, tother hard by. A Paper Mill near German- Town doth stand, So that the Flax, which first springs from the Land, First Flax, then Yarn, and then they must begin. To weave the same, which they took pains to spin. Also, when on our backs it is well worn, Some of the same remains Ragged and Torn ; Then of those Rags our paper it is made, Which in process of time doth waste and fade : So what comes from the Earth, appeareth plain, The same in Time returns to Earth again. So much for what I have truly Comps d, Which is but a part of what may be disclosed. Concluding of this and what is behind. I may tell you more of my Mind ; But in the mean time be content with this same, Which at present is all from your Friend RICHARD FRAME. 1754 JUMONV1LLE. Insomuch as he was taken by surprise, the French insisted that Jumonville s death was not only a base act, but a cowardly assassination ; and for years, even down to our own times, their authors have continued to misrepresent the occurrence, and to do an injustice to him who was incapable of acting unjustly to another. Chief among them was M. Thomas, an accomplished litterateur of the day, and a member of the Academy, who, in 1759, published his " Jumonville," a lengthy poem in four cantos, in which he not only painted the JUMONVILLE. 327 death of that soldier in the most tragic colors, but tra ces all the subsequent misfortunes of the English to that unpardonable act. His unseen shade is made to stand beside Washington on the ramparts of Fort Necessity, freezing his blood with supernatural fear, and calling into life poetic serpents to hiss and gnaw within his breast; or gliding through the lines of his -brethren points at his bleeding wounds yet unrevenged, " and cries aloud to battle ! " Pursued thus by the inevitable sword of an aveng ing Nemesis, the woes of the British during the next five years the heavy visitation of what the poet is pleased to consider retributive justice, Is finely given : "O malheureux Anglais !" he exclaims: " Oh, wretch.- ed people! " SARGENT. Je vois, dans ses projets, votre audace trompee, Des flots de votre san 1 Amerique trempee. Brad hoc, de vos complots sinistre executeur, Des traites et des lois sacrilege infracteur, Qui devait, en guidant vos troupes conjurees, Au char de 1 Angleterre enchainer DOS contre"es, Sur des monceaux de morts, perce de mille coups, Exhale ses fureurs et son ame en courroux. triste Virginie ! malheureux rivages f Je vois vos champs en proie a des monstres sau- Je vois, dans leur berceaux, vos enfaus massacres, De vos vieillards saoglants les membres dechires, Vos rem parts et vos toits devores par les flammes. La massue ecraser vos filles et vos femmes, Et, dans leur flancs ouverts, leur fruit infortunes, Condanwies &, perir avant que d etre ne"s. Votre sang n eteint pas 1 ardeur que les devore : Sur vos corps dechires et palpitants encore, Je les vois etendus, de carnage souill^s, Arracher vos chevaux de vos fronts de pouille s ; Et fiers de ce fardeau, dans leur mains triomphantes, Montrer a. leurs enfants ces depouilles fumantes. Quels que soient les forfaits que nousaient outrage s, Anglais, peut-etre, helas, sommes-nous trop venges ! 328 PETER MERCIER. 1754 PETER MERCIER. The following lines, from the Pennsylvania Gazette, of October 31, 1754, published by Benjamin Franklin, were inscribed "to the memory of Lieutenant Peter Mercier, Esq., who fell in the battle near Ohio river, in Virginia, July 3, 1754 " that is, in the engagement, be- t ween the British forces, under Washington, and the French forces under the fiery Coulon-Villiers. resulting in the surrender of Washington and the evacuation of Fort Necessity : in what is now Fayette county, Penn sylvania. Too fond of what the martial harvests yield Alas ! too forward in the dangerous fiold Firm arid undaunted, resolute and brave, Careless of life invaluable to save As one secure of fame, in battle tried, The glory of Ohio s sons he died. Oh, once endowed with every pleasing power To chase the sad and charm the social hour, To sweeten life with mild ingenuous arts, And gain possession of all open hearts. How have thy friends and comrades cause to mourn ! How wished they for thy peaceable return, Thy province and thy household to defend, And happily thy future years to spend! I hoped the fates far longer would allow The laurel wreath to flourish on thy brow ; I hoped to greet thee from thy northern toils Elate with victory, enriched with spoils : But now, alas ! these pleasing dreams are fled ! Sweetly thou sleep st in glory s dusty bed, By all esteemed, admired, extolled, approved, In death lamented as in life beloved. (xeorgia, loud-sounding, thy achievements tell, And sad Virginia marks where Mercier fell. Ah ! lost too soon too early snatched away To joys unfading, and immortal day! AWAITING BRADDOCK. 329 Happy ! had thy duration been prolonged To vindicate the British interest wronged ; Since none more ready to defend its cause, Or to support religion and the laws : In thee our royal sovereign has lost As brave a soldier as his troops could boast. If at some future hour of dread alarms When virtue and my countrv call to arms For freedom, struggling nations to unbind, Or break those sceptres that would bruise mankind, In such a cause may such a death as thine, With equal honor merited, be mine. 1755 AWAITING BRADDOCK. From the Pennsylvania Gazette, No. 1360. Breathe, breathe, ye winds ; rise, rise, ye gentle gales ; Swell the ship s canvass, and expand her sails ! Ye sea-green Nymphs, the royal vessel deign To guide propitious o er the liquid main : Freighted with wealth, for noble ends designed, (So willed great George, and so the Fates inclined.) The ponderous Cannon o er the surges sleep ; The flaming Muskets swim the raging deep ; The murd rous Swords, concealed in scabbards, sail, And pointed Bayonets partake the gale : Ah ! swiftly waft her to the longing shore ; In safety land her, and we ask no more ! 1755 BRADDOCK S RALLY, "While both America and England were in a radiant glow of enthusiasm in anticipation of a pre-determined victory, the following battle-call was composed in Ches- 330 BRADDOCK S RALLY. ter county, Pennsylvania. It is not known by whom* however; nor further about it, save that it was still a favorite song in America during the Revolution a quar- tel of a century afterward, with the name of Lee Charles or Light-Horse Harry substituted for that of Braddock. To arms, to arms ! my jolly grenadiers f Hark, how the drums do roll it along ! To horse, to horse, with valiant good cheer ; We ll meet our proud foe, before it is long. Let not your courage fail you : Be valiant, stout and bold ; And it will soon avail you T My loyal hearts of gold. Huzzah, my valiant countrymen ! again I say huzzah ! Tis nobly done the day s our own huzzah, huzzah I March on, inarch on, brave Braddock leads the foremost ; The battle is begun as you may fairly see. Stand firm, be bold, and it will soon be over ; We ll soon gain the field from our proud enemy. A squadron now appears, my boys ; If that they do but stand ! Boys, never fear, be sure you mind The word of command ! Kuzzah, my valiant country men I again I say huzzah ! Tis nobly done the day s our own huzzah, huzzah ! See how, see how, they break and fly before us ! See how they are scattered all over the plain ! Now, now now, now, our country will adore us ! In peace and in triumph, boys, when we return again ! Then" laurels shall our glory crown 331 For all our actions told : The hills shall echo all around, My loyal hearts of gold. Huzzah, my valiant countrymen ! again I say huzzah ! Tis nobly done the day s our own huzzah, huzzah ! 1755 BRADDOCK S DEFEAT. In November, 1755, the following vei ses appeared in either the New York Gazette or the Weekly Post Boy, it is not known now which. THE DYING GENERAL SPEAK&. Then, tis decreed the vain exulting Gaul, In these ill-fated fields, beholds my fall. But. let not Britain, when she hears the tale, In timid indolence my fate bewail. Oh, rather let her sons, unused to fear, To women leave the tribute of a tear. A brave revenge alone becomes the brave, A brave revenge these dying heroes crave. See where their mangled limbs bestrew the field : Firm, undismayed, unknowing how to yield. Behold them with their latest gasp of breath, Implore their country to revenge their death. May Britain, then, let loose her vengeful ire, Redoubled force repeated wrongs require ; Each active hand with martial terror arm, Each martial bosom with her spirit warm. So, haughty Gaul, when her exploits she hears, Shall with her ill-starred triumph mix her fears ; As midnight thieves that, wrapt in vile disguise, Have made some luckless traveler their prize, Afraid of justice, drop the booty won, And tremble for the mischief they have done. Ill vain the fettered Gaul prepares his chains, 332 BRADDOCK S DEFEAT. For British freedom, even in India s plains. Great George, born to command the free and brave, Shall break his weapons and chastise the slave. My blood I freely spill ; rejoiced to make The first libation for fair Freedom s sake. For as, in Greece of old. the warrior s meed For liberty, is nobly thus to bleed. Here then I cheerful quit life s poor remains, For glory well exchanged in martial plains ; In future times, (nor do I boast in vain,) When Britain numbers o er her warrior.train, When time my errors shall obliterate And veil my faults in pity to my fate, In the fair list, perhaps, shall stand his name, Who through these regions showed the road to fame ; Who midst these pathless wilds, and streams that roll From sources unexplored, first taught the Gaul That Britain s freeborn sons, inspired by fame, Nor danger daunts, nor toilsome marches tame. What though by me, these ill-starred heroes led, With me, oppressed by numbers, fought and bled ; What though our blood these barbarous currents dye, To savage rage exposed our bodies lie ; Yet still our name a terror shall remain, For length of ages to the servile train. Oft shall these warriors shades, who sullen rove, Along the o er-shadowed stream or twilight grove, Or o er savannahs drear, in dread array, By moonlight gleam, their marshaled ranks display, Affright the Gaul, whose dazzled fancy sees The horrid armor glittering through the trees, His shrivelled soul within him dies with fear, Whilst bursts of imaged cannon wound his ear. Nor will our pensive ghosts one comfort know, Till destined vengeance overtake the foe ; Till (servile Gaul expelled) fixed in these plains By British valor, British freedom reigns. BRADDOCK S DESERTERS. 333 1775 77/17 GRAVE OF BRADDOCK. The following lines "on the death of Gen. Brad- dock, said to be slain in an ambuscade by the French and Indians, on the banks of the Ohio, July 9, 1755," are from the Gentleman s Magazine, for August, 1755, vol. xxv., p. 383. Beneath some Indian shrub, if chance you spy The brave remains of murdered Braddock lie, Soldiers, with shame the guilty place survey, And weep, that here your comrades fled away. Then with his brother-chiefs* encircled round, Possess the hero s bones of hostile ground, And plant the English Oak,"j~ that gave his name, Fit emblem of his valor and his fame ! Broad o er this stream j shall thus his honors grow, And last as long as e er its waters flow ! * His officers. t Brad in old Saxon-English is the same as Broad, and Brad-oke the same as Broad- oak. % The Ohio. 1775 BRADDOCK S DESERTERS. In the same magazine the Gentleman s for Sep tember, 1755, vol. xxv., p. 421, appeared the following "Apology for the men who deserted Gen, Braddock when surprised by the ambuscade." Ah ! Braddock, why did you persuade To stand and fight each recreant blade, That left thee in the wood ? That knew that those who run away, May live to fight another day, But all must die that stood. 334 TO THE PENNSYLVAXIANS. 1756 ODE TO TEE INHABITANTS OF PENNSYLVANIA. From the Pennsylvania Gazette, September 30, Still shall the tyrant scourge of Gaul With wasteful rage resistless fall On Britain s slumbering race ? Still shall she wave her bloody hand And threatening banners o er this land. To Britain s fell disgrace ? And not one generous chieftain rise (Who dares the frown of war despise And treacherous fear disclaim) His country s ruin to oppose, To hurl destruction on her foes, And blast their rising fame ? In Britain s cause, with valor fired, Braddock, unhappy chief! expired. And claimed a nation s tear ; Nor could Oswego s bulwarks stand The fury of a savage band, Though Schuyler s* arm was there. Stil! shall this motley, murderous crew Their deep, destructive arts pursue, And general horror spread ? No ! See Britannia s genius rise 1 Swift o er the Atlantic foam she flies And lifts her laureled head ! Lo ! streaming through the clear blue sky, Great Loudon sf awful banners fly, In British pomp displayed ! Soon shall the gallant chief advance ; Before him shrink the sons of France, Confounded and dismayed. TO THE PENNSYLVANIANS. 335 Then rise, illustrious Britons, rise I Great Freedom calls, pursue her voice, And save your country s shame ! Let every hand for Britain armed, And every breast with virtue warmed, Aspire to deathless fame ! But chief, let Pennsylvania wake, And on her foes let terrors shake, Their gloomy troops defy ; For lo ! her smoking farms and plains, Her captured youths, and murdered swains, For vengeance loudest cry. Why should we seek inglorious rest, Or sink, with thougtless ease oppressed, While war insults so near? While ruthless, fierce, athirst for blood, Bellona s sons, a desperate brood ! In furious bands appear ! Rouse, rouse at once, and bodly chase From their deep haunts, the savage race, Till they confess you men. Let other Armstrongs^ grace the field : Let other slaves before them yield, And tremble round Du Quesne. And thou, our chief, and martial guide, Of worth approved, of valor tried In many a hard campaign, Denny, 1 1 warmed with British fire, Our inexperienced troops inspire, And conquest s laurels gain ! * The victory of Montcalm, at Oswego, was a disas trous blow to the British. The garrison which sur rendered comprised sixteen hundred men. t Great Loudon, however, turned out to be a blus tering do-nothing, of whom it was said, by Franklin, if I mistake not, " he reminds me of St. George on a sign : he is always on horseback, but never advances! " 336 THE PENNSYLVANIA SONG. Col. John Armstrong, the hero of Kit-tanning. See page 53. William Denny, Governor of Pennsylvania, com mission bearing date May 7th, 1756. 1775 THE PENNSYLVANIA SONG. The author of this ballad is unknown. It appeared originally in Dunlap s Packet, as the "Pennsylvania March, to the tune of the Scotch song, "I winna marry ony lad, but Sandy o er the lea." We are the troop that ne er will stoop To wretched slavery, Nor shall our seed, by our base deed Despised vassals be 4 Freedom we will bequeathe to them, Or we will bravely die ; Our greatest foe ere long shall know, How much did Sandwich lie. And all the world shall know, Americans are free ; Nor slaves nor cowards we will prove, Great Britain soon shall see. We ll not give up our birthright, Our foes shall find us men ; As good as they, in any shape, The British troops shall ken. Huzza ! brave boys, we ll beat them On any hostile plain ; For freedom, wives and children dear, The battle we ll maintain. What ! can those British tyrants think, Our fathers crossed the main, And savage foes, and dangers met, To be enslaved by them ? POINT PLEASANT. 337 If so, they are mistaken, For we will rather die ; And since they have become our foes, Their forces we defy. 1774 THE BATTLE OF POINT PLEASANT. The commander of the English forces in the Battle of Point Pleasant, the decisive victory of Lord Dun- inore s War, in 1774, was General Andrew Lewis, who had played previously a conspicuous part in the early history of Southwestern Pennsylvania. He was a cap tain in the engagement at Little Meadows, in 1754; and served with distinction in the expeditions of Braddock and Forbes. Washington entertained so high an opin ion of his military abilities, that when the chief com mand of the revolutionary armies was tendered to him self, he recommended that it should be given preferably to his companion in arms for nearly a quarter of a cen tury, Genera! Lewis. His appearance was so magnifi cent, that the Governor of New York, who beheld him. at a treaty with the Indians in 1763, declared that "he looked like the genius of the forest; and that the earth seemed to tremble beneath his footsteps." The com mander of the Indians was the distinguished chieftain Corn stalk. Let us mind the Tenth day of October, Seventy-four, which caused woe, The Indian savages they did cover The pleasant banks of the Ohio. The battle beginning in the morning, Throughout the day it lasted sore, Till the evening shades were returning down Upon the banks of the Ohio. Judgment precedes to execution, Let fame throughout all dangers go, Our heroes fought with resolution Upon the banks of the Ohio. 338 THE KING S OWN REGULARS. Seven s-core lay dead and wounded Of champions that did face their foe, By which the hoathen were confounded Upon the banks of the Ohio. Col. Lewis and some noble captains, Did down to death like Uriah go ; Alas ! their heads wound up in napkins Upon the banks of the Ohio. Kings lamented their mijrhty fallen Upon the mountains of Grilboa, And now we mourn for brave Hugh Allen Far from the banks of the Ohio. Oh, bless the mighty Kin<r of Heaven, For all his woundrous works below, Who hath to us the victory given Upon the banks of the Ohio. 1776 THE KING S OWN REGULARS. The following song appeared in the Pennsylvania Evening Post, March 30th, 177(5, as "A New Song: The King s Own Regulars, and their Triumph over the Ir regulars. To the tune of An old Courtier of the C^ueen s, and the Queen s old Courtier, which is a kind of recitavo, like the chanting of the prose psalms in cathedrals." It contains an interesting allusion to the Expedition of Braddock. Since you all will have singing, and won t be said nay, I cannot refuse, when you so beg and pray; So, I ll sing you a song, as a body may say. "Pis of the king s regulars, who ne r er ran away. the old soldiers of the king, and the king s own regulars. THE KING S OWN REGULARS. 330 At Prestonpans we met with some rebels one day, We marshaled ourselves all in comely array : Our hearts were all stout, and bid our legs stay, But our feet were wrong-headed, and took us away. At Falkirk we resolved to be braver. And recover some credit by better behaviour ; We would not acknowledge feet had done us any favor, So feet swore they would stand, but legs ran, however. No troops perform better than we at reviews, We march and we wheel, and whatever you choose; George ! to see how we fight, and we never refuse, There we all fight with courage you may see t in the news. To Monongahela, with fifes and with drums, We marched in fine order, with cannon and bombs ; That great expedition cost infinite sums, But a few irregulars cut us all into crumbs. It was not fair to shoot at us from behind trees : If they had stood open, as they ought, before our great guns, we should have beat em with ease ; They may fight with one another that way, if they please, But it is not regular to stand, and fight with such rascals as these. At Fort George and Oswego, to our great repu tation, We showed our vast skill in fortification ; The French fired three guns ; of the fourth they had no occasion ; For we gave up those forts, not through fear, but mere persuasion. 340 To Ticonderoga we went in a passion, Swearing to be revenged on the whole French nation ; But we soon turned tail wirhout hesitation, Because they fought behind trees, which is not the regular fashion. Lord Loudon, he was a regular general, they say; With a great regular army he went his way, Against Louisburg, to make it his prey, But returned without seeing it, for he did not feel bold that day. Grown proud at reviews, great George had no rest ; Each grandsire, he had heard, a rebellion sup pressed ; He wished a rebellion, looked round and saw none. So resolved a rebellion to make of his own. The Yankees he bravely pitched on, because he thought they wouldn t fight, And so he sent us over to take away their right ; But lest they should spoil our review-clothes, he cried braver and louder, "For God s sake, brother kings, don t sell the cow ards any powder ! " Our general with his council of war did advise How at Lexington we might the Yankees surprise ; We marched and remarched, all surprised at being beat ; And so our wise general s plan of surprise was complete. For fifteen miles they followed and pelted us ; we scarce had time to pull a trigger ; But did you ever know a retreat performed with more vigor ? For we did it in two hours, which saved us from perdition ; Twas not in going out, but in returning, consisted our expedition. TRENTON. 341 Says our general, k We were forced to take to our arms in our own defence : " (For arms read legs, and it will be both truth and sense :) * Lord Percy, " says he, " I must say something of him in civility, And that is I can never enough praise him for his great agility, " Of their firing from behind fences he makes a great pother : Every fence has two sides ; they made use of one, and we only forgot to use the other. That we turned our backs and ran away so fast, don t let that disgrace us; Twas only to make good what Sandwich said, that the Yankees could not face us. As they could not get before us, how could they look us in the face ? We took care they shouldn t, by scampering away apace. That they had much to brag of, is a very plain case ; For if they beat us in the fight, we beat them in the race. 1776 BATTLE OF TRENTON. When the Revolution commenced St. Clair embraced the American cause; and in January, 1776, he was ap pointed to commend a battalian of Pennsylvania mili tia. He was engaged in the expedition to Canada, and was second in command, in the proposed attack on the British post at Trois Riveries. Afterward, he was in the Battle of Trenton, and had the credit of suggesting the attack on the British at Princeton, which proved so fortunate. On Christmas day, in Seventy-six, Our ragged troops with bayonets fixed, 342 TRENTON. For Trenton marched away. The Delaware see ! the boats below ! The light obscured by hail and snow ! But no signs of dismay. Our object was the Hessian baud, That dared invade fair freedom s laud. And quarter in that place. Great Washington he led us on, Whose streaming flag, in storm or sun, Had never known disgrace. -_ In silent march we passed the night, Each soldier panting for the fight. Though quite benumbed with frost. Greene, on the left, at six began, The right was led by Sullivan, Who ne er a moment lost. Their pickets stormed, the alarm was spread. That rebels risen from the dead Were marching into town. Some scampered here, some scampered there, And some for action did prepare ; But soon their arms laid down. Twelve hundred servile miscreants : With all their colors, guns, and tents, Were trophies of the day. The frolic o er, the bright canteen, In centre, front, and rear was seen Driving fatigue away. Now, brothers of the patriot bands, Let s sing deliverance from the hands Of arbitrary sway. And as our life is but a span, Let s touch the tankard while we can, In memory of that day. TRENTON AND PRINCETON. 343 1777 TRENTON AND PRINCETON. The following ballad has been written from the dic tation of a lady who remembers hearing it sung by a child to the British troops, who accidentally overheard her and urged her to repeat it to them, with which she complied, much to their amusement. McOarty. On December the sixth And the twentieth day, Our troops attacked the Hessians, And showed them gallant play. Our roaring cannon taught them Our valor for to know ; We fought like brave Americans Against a haughty foe. The chief were killed and taken, The rest were put to flight, And some arrived at Princeton, Half-fainting with affright. The third of January, The morning being clear, Our troops attacked the regulars. At Princeton, we do hear. About a mile from Princeton The battle it begun, And many a haughty Briton fell Before the fight was done. And what our gallant troops have done We ll let the British know ; We fought like brave Americans Against a haughty foe. 344 PRINCETON. The British, struck with terror, And frighted, ran away : They ran across the country Like men in deep dismay. Crying to every one they met, U ! hide us ! hide us ! do ! JThe rebels will devour us, So hotly they pursue," 0. base, ungenerous Britons ! To call us by that name; We re fighting for our liberty, Our just and lawful claim. We trust in Heaven s protection, Nor fear to win the day ; When time shall come we ll crown our deeds With many a loud huzza ! Our foes are fled to Brunswick, Where they are close confined ; Our men they are unanimous, In Freedom s cause combined. Success to General Washington, And Gates and Putnam, too, Both officers and privates, Who liberty pursue. 1777 THE BATTLE OF PRINCETON. Stern winter scowled along the plain, And ruthless Boreas urged amain His fierce, impetuous course ; In ice the watery regions bound, The torrent s foaming rage confound And stop its boisterous force. PRINCETON. 345 While hostile bands their rights invade, Columbia s sons in tents were laid, And winter s blasts defied ; No foes appal, no dangers fright, Whilst Freedom s sacred cause they fight, And Washington s their guide. While slumbers sealed the hero s eyes, He saw a godlike form arise, Like martial Pallas drest ; Twas Liberty ! celestial maid ! In all her golden charms arrayed, The goddess stood confessed. "My son," she cried, "the gods above, Thy country s sacred cause approve, And on thy virtues smile ; Though proud oppression waste the land, Yet freedom purchased by thy hand, Shall soon reward thy toil. "Lo! where Britannia s banners rise In awful pomp, and brave the skies, Exulting o er the land ; Her haughty legions soon shall feel The force of thine avenging steel, And this thy chosen band. "Though veterans compose their train, And tenfold legions fill the plain, To martial deeds inured ; Undaunted rise and take the field, For Liberty shall lend her shield And Victory her sword. " Up rose the chief, at the command, And straight convened his faithful band, Inspired by freedom s lore ; Egyptian darkness veiled the night, But Liberty s celestial light Their footsteps went before. 340 A SONG FOR THE RED COATS. Where Princeton rears the muse s seat, In arms the hostile legions met, And fate upheld the scale; Forth rushed the blazing orb of light To add new glories to the sight. When Freedom s sons assail. Like Mars, Columbia s hero stood ; Her haughty foes were drenched in blood, Or shunned the doubtful fight; Whilst Britons shame and grief confound, Fair Liberty the victors crowned With honors ever bright. Henceforth the grateful muse shall twine Her annual wreath at Freedom s shrine. The hero s brow to grace ; By whose victorious arm restored, No more she flies the hostile sword, But hails her native place. And still with the revolving: year, A garland shall the muse prepare, To deck her Mercer s urn ; While Freedom fills the trump of fame, Columbia shall revere his name, His fate her sons shall mourn. 1777 .4 SONG FOR THE RED- COATS. This ballad was known during the re volution, as the North Campaign," "Gates Song," and "A Song for the Red-Coals." It has been attributed to a " private of Colonel Brook s regiment," and also to the author of "American Taxation." fn August, 1776, St. Clair was appointed a Brigadier, and in February, 1777, a Major General. He was the commanding officer at Ticonderoga, New York, when that post was invested by the British, and evacuated it, July 6th, 1777, with such secresy that a considerable part A SONG FOR THE RED-COATS. 347 of the public stores was conveyed away in safety, Charges of cowardice, treachery, and incapacity were brought against him in consequence; but a court of in quiry, presided over by General Lincoln, acquitted him "of all the charges against him, with the highest honor/ Among the stories, which the ignorant and credu- ulous were led to believe concerning the evacuation of Ticonderoga by St. Clair was this, that he had received an immense treasure in silver balls fired into his camp by Burgoyne ! No wonder, St. Clair, in his letter to Jay, wrote that he " despised the vague censure of an unin formed populace." Come unto me ye heroes Whose hearts are true and bold. Who value more your honor, Thau others do their gold ; . Give ear unto my story, And I the truth will tell, Concerning many a soldier, Who for his country fell. Burgoyne, the king s commander. From Canada set sail, With full eight thousand reg lars, He thought he could not fail ; With Indians and Canadians, And his cursed Tory crew, On board his fleet of shipping He up the Champlain flew. Before Ticonderoga, The first day of July, Appeared his ships and army, And we did them espy. Their motions we observed, Full well both night and day. And our brave boys prepared, To have a bloody fray. 348 A SONG FOR THE RED-COATS, Our garrison they viewed them, And straight their troops did land. And when St. Clair, our chieftain. The fact did understand, That they the Mount Defiance Were bent to fortify, He found we must surrender, Or else prepare to die. The fifth day of July, then, He ordered a retreat, And when next morn we started, Burgoyne thought we were beat. And closely he pursued us, Till when near Hubbardton, Our rear guards were defeated, He thought the country won. And when twas told in Congress, That we our forts had left, To Albany retreated, Of all the North bereft ; Brave General Gates they sent us, Our fortunes to retrieve, And him with shouts of gladness, The army did receive. Where first the Mohawk s waters, Do in the sunshine play, For Herkimer s brave soldiers, St. Leger ambushed lay ; And them he there defeated, But soon he had his due, And scared by Brooks and Arnold. He to the north withdrew. To take the stores and cattle, That we had gathered then, Burgoyne sent a detachment, Of fifteen hundred men ; A SONG FOR THE RED- CO ATS. 349 By Baum they were commanded, To Bennington they went ; To plunder and to murder, Was fully their intent. But little did they know then, With whom they had to deal, It was not quite so easy, Our stores and stock to steal ; Bold Stark would give them only, A portion of his lead ; With half his crew ere sunset, Baum lay among the dead. The nineteenth of September, The morning cool and clear, Brave Gates rode through our army, Each soldier s heart to cheer ; "Burgoyne," he cried, "advances, But we will never fly ; No rather than surrender, We ll tight him till we die. " The news was quickly brought us, The enemy was near, And all along our lines then There was no sign of fear ; It was above Stillwater We met at noon that day. And every one expected To see a bloody fray. Six hours the battle lasted, Each heart was true as gold, The British fought like lions, And we like Yankees bold ; The leaves with blood were crimson. And then brave Gates did cry " Tis diamond now cut diamond ! We ll beat them boys or die." 350 A SONG FOR THE RED-COATS. The darkness soon approaching, It forced us to retreat, Into our lines till morning Which made them think us beat ; But ere the sun was risen, They saw before their eyes. Us ready to engage them, Which did them much surprise. Of fighting they seem weary, Therefore to work they go, Their thousand dead to bury, And breastworks up to throw ; With grape and bombs intending Our army to destroy, Or from our works our forces By stratagem decoy. The seventh day of October, The British tried again, Shells from their cannons throwing, Which fell on us like rain ; To drive us from our stations, That they might thus retreat ; For now Burgoyne saw plainly, He never could us beat. But vain was his endeavor Our men to terrify ; Though death was all around us, Not one of us would fly. But when an hour we d fought them. And they began to yield, Along our lines the cry ran, "The next blow wins the field ! " Great God, who guides their battles, Whose cause is just and true. Inspire our bold commander, The course he should pursue. A SONG FOR THE RED COATS. 351 He ordered Arnold forward, And Brooks to follow on ; The enemy was routed ! Our liberty was won ! Then burning all their luggage, They fled with haste and fear, Burgoyne with all his forces, To Saratogue did steer ; And Gates, our brave commander, Soon after him did hie, Resolving he would take them, Or in the effort die. As we came nigh the village, We overtook the foe ; They d burned each house to ashes, Like all where er they go. The seventeenth of October, They did capitulate, Burgoyne and his proud army, Did we our pris ners make. Now, here s a health to Arnold, And our commander Gates, To Lincoln and to Washington, Whom every Tory hates ; Likewise unto our Congress, God grant it long to reign ; Our Country, Right, and Justice, For ever to maintain. Now finished is my story. My song is at an end, The freedom we re enjoying We re ready to defend ; For while our cause is righteous, Heaven nerves the soldier s arm, And vain is their endeavor, Who strive to do us harm. *i52 JOHN BUROOYNE. 1777 THE FATE OF JOHN BUR GO YNE. When Jack, the King s commander, Was going to his duty, Through all the crowd he smiled and bowed, To every blooming beauty. The city rung with feats he d done, In Portugal and Flanders, And all the town thought he d be crowned The first of Alexanders. To Hampton Court he first repairs, To kiss great George s hand, sirs. Then to harangue on state affairs, Before he left the land, sirs. The "lower house" sat mute as mouse, To hear his grand oration ; And "all the peers" with loudest cheers, Proclaimed him to the nation. Then off he went to Canada, Next to Ticonderoga, And quitting those, away he goes, Straightway to Saratoga. With great parade his march he made. To gain his wished for station, When far and wide his minions hied, To spread his " Proclamation. " To such as staid he offers made, Of "pardon on submission ; But savage bands should waste the lands Of all in opposition. " But ah, the cruel fate of war ! This boasted son of Britain, When mounting his triumphal car, With sudden fear was smitten. CRAWFORD S DEFEAT. 353 The sons of freedom gathered round, His hostile bands confounded, And when they d fain have turned their back, They found themselves surrounded ! In vain they fought, in vain they fled, Their chief, humane and tender, To save the rest, soon thought it best His forces to surrender. Brave St. Clair when he first retired, Knew what the fates portended ; And Arnold and heroic Grates, His conduct have defended. Thus may America s brave sons With honor be rewarded, And be the fate of all her foes y The same as here recorded. 1782 CRA WFORD S DEFEA T. Through the courtesy of my friend and fellow-la borer in the field of American history, Mr. C. W. But- terfield, the author of the elaborate monograph on Craw ford s Expedition, I am enabled to reproduce the follow ing old ballad " copied from Doctor Knight s Narrative by Robert A. Sherrard, and carefully preserved for more than sixty years." Mr. Sherrard states that Dr. Knight himself was the author of the poem. Come all you good people wherever you be, Pray draw near a while, and listen to me ; A story I ll tell you which happened of late, Concerning brave Crawford s most cruel defeat. A bold hearted company, as we do hear, Equipped themselves, being all volunteer : Their number four hundred and eighty and nine ; To take the Sandusky town was their design. 354 CRAWFORD S DEFEAT: In seventeen hundred eighty and two, The twenty-sixth of May, I tell unto you, They crossed the Ohio, as I understand. Where brave Colonel Crawford, he gave the eono- mand. With courage undaunted away they did steer, Through the Indian country without dread or fear r Where Nicholson, Slover, and Jonathan Zane Conducted them to the Saudusky plain. Now brave Colonel Crawford, an- officer bold, Ou the fifth day of Jur*e did the Indians behold On the plains of Sandusky ; at three the same day r Both armies did meet in battle array. The Indians on horseback Girty gave the com mand On the side of the plains, they boldly did stand ; Our men like brave heroes upon them did fire, Until backward the Indians were forced to retire. Our rifles did rattle and bullets did fly ; And some of our men on the ground there did lie ; And some being wounded, to comrades, they said, " Fight on, brother soldiers, and be not dismayed I r Then brave Colonel WilliamsoD, as I understand , He wanted two hundred men at his command : If the same had been granted, I make no great doubt, But he soon would have put the proud Indians to rout. For this brave commander, like a hero so bold, Behaved with courage, like David of old, Who with the Philistiens* he used to war, And returned safe home without receiving a scar. There was brave Major Brinton, the first in com mand, In the front of the battle he boldly did stand ; CRAWFORD S DEFEAT. 355 With courage and conduct, his part did maintain. Though bullets like hail in great showers they came, And as this brave hero was giving command, The rifle balls rattled on every hand, Pie received a ball, but his life did not yield : Ife remained with the wounded men out on the field. Brave Biggs and brave Ogle received each a ball : On the plains of Sandusky, it was their lot to fall ; Aud not these alooe, but several men Had the honor to die on the Sundusky plain. There was brave Captain Munn like a hero of old. Likewise Captain Ross, who was another as bold, Keceived each a ball, but did not expire, Though into the camp they were forced to retire. There was brave Captain Hogland, I must not go past : He fought out and bravely, while the battle did last, And on the retreat to a fire did go What became of him after, we never could know, There was Ensign McM asters, another as brave : He fought many battles his country to save ; On the plains of Sandusky, he received a wound Not being able to go, he was left on the ground. There were Sherrard and Rogers with Paull of renown : They marched with Crawford to the Sandusky town, Where they bravely did fight till the battle was done, And without a scar they returned safe home. Our officers all so bravely did fight. And likewise our men, two days and a night, Until a reinforcement of Indians there came, Which caused us to leave the Sandusky plain. 356 CRAWFORD S DEFEAT. Then said our commander, "Since we have lost. ground By superior numbers they do us surround We ll gather the wounded men, and let us save All that s able to go, and the. rest we must leave." There was brave Colonel Crawford upon the retreat. Likewise Major Harrison and brave Doctor Knight, With Slover, the pilot, and several men, Were unfortunately taken on the Sandusky plain. Well, now they have taken these men of renown. And dragged them away to the Sandusky town, And there in their council condemned for to be Burnt at the stake by most cruel Girty. Like young Diabolians,* they this act did pursue. And Girty, the head of this infernal crew This renegade whiteman was a stand er-by, While there in the fire their bodies did fry. The scalps from their heads while alive they did tear ; Their bodies with red hot irons they did sear ; They bravely expired without ever a groan, Which might melt the heart that was harder than stone. After our heroes were burnt at the stake, Brave Knight and brave Slover, they make their escape ; And with Heaven s assistance, they brought us the news, So none need the truth of these tidings refuse. Now, from East unto West, let it be understood Let every one arise to revenge Crawford s blood, And likewise the blood of these men of renown, That were taken and burnt at the Sandusky town. * Credit Sherrard. SIMON GIRTY. 357 - 2782 SIMON GIRTY. A A O.Y YMO US. The outlawed whiteman by Ohio s flood, Whose vengeance shamed the Indian s thirst for blood ; Whose hellish arts surpassed the Redman s far ; Whos hate enkindled many a border war, OF which each aged grandame hath a tale At which man s bosom burns, and childhood V cheek grows pale. 1786 MOORTN LAMENTATION. The massacre of the Moore furnily is one of the most horrible butcheries to be found in the annals of the west. It occurred in the jear 1786, in Abb s valley, on the Blue Stone, in Western Virginia. The circum stances were as follows On the 14th of July, 1786, several horses came to the lick-blocks, about a hundred yards from the house, when James Moore, the father of the fated family, went out to salt them : two men, who were living with him, having gone before him into the field and were engaged in reaping wheat. The Indians, who were lying in am bush, availed themselves of the opportunity, and rushed toward the house with speed. As they advanced, they fired, and killed three of the children, William and Re becca, who were coming from the spring, and Alexan der, in the yard. Mr. Moore, in attempting to get back to the house, was killed and scalped. The two men, who were reaping, hearing the firing, and seeing the house surrounded by the Indians, fled to the nearest house in the settlements, a distance of six miles. In the meantime, having heard the alarm, Mrs. Moore and Martha Ivins, who was living with her, barred the door of the cabin in the face of the savages; but without avail. An Englishman, John Simpson, lying sick in the house, was shot through a chink between the logs of the cabin, and killed. And having broken through the 358 MOORE S LAMENTATION. door, the Indians took the helpless inmates prisoners. John, Jane, Polly, and the baby, Peggy, and Martha Ivins. After firing the house, they set out for their town presumably, Chilicothe. Finding that John Moore was weak and unable to travel, they killed and scalped him the first day ; and after carrying the baby two or three days, to end its fretting, they dashed out its brains against a tree. Upon reaching the town, Mrs. Moore and her daughter Jane were burned to death at the stake. What became of Miss Ivins is not known. While Polly was kept a prisoner among the Indians un til released by her brother, James, the second son of the family, who, two years before the massacre, had been made a captive by a band of Shawnese, the chief of whom was Black Wolf. I give here two versions of the old ballad, recount ing the horrible fate of this family: the first, from a printed copy, through the courtesy of Dr. Tree; and the second, as it has been sung to a comparatively recent day in Southwestern Pennsylvania, and taken down by Mr. Wm. H. Morrow, of Manor. Assist me with words, Melpomene, Assist me with skill to impart The dolorous sorrow and pain That dwell upon every heart. When Moore and his infantile throng The savages cruel did slay, His wife they led captive along : With murmuring voice she did say " Farewell ! ye soft bowers so green, I ll traverse these valleys no more, Beside yon murmuring stream Lies bleeding the man I adore : And with him my sweet innocent babes. These barbarous Indians have slain, Were I but in one of their graves. Then I would be free from my pain." Once more on them she cast her eyes. And bade them forever farewell. Deep sobs from her bosom did rise, While she thus in anguish did wail. 359 The heathen her sorrows to crown, Led her without further delay, A victim to their Shawnee town, And now comes her tragical day. A council upon her was held, And she was condemned for to die ; On a rock they a fire did build, While she did her torments espy. With splints of light wood they prepared To pierce in her body all round. Her flesh for to mangle and tear. With sorrow she fell to the ground. But her senses returning again, The mercy of God did implore : " Thou Saviour, that for me was slain And bathed in bloody gore, Have mercy now on me in death, And Heaven will sing forth thy praise Soon as I have yielded my breath In a raging fiery blaze." When to her destruction proceeds Each cruel bloodthirsty hell-hound ; With light wood they caused her to bleed, Streaming from every wound. The smoke from her body doth rise ; She begs for their pity in vain ; These savages hear her loud cries, And with dancing laugh at her pain. Three days in this manner she lay, Tormented and bleeding the while, But God did his mercy display, And on her with pity did smile. Growing angry at their cruel rage, Her soul would no longer confine ; Her torments he soon did assuage, And in praise she her breath did resign. oGO THE MOORE MASSACRE, Let each noble valorous youth Pity her deplorable end ; Awhile from your true loves part, Join me each brother and friend. For I ve been where the cannons did roar And the bullets did rapidly fly, And yet I would venture once more r The Shawnees to conquer or die. THE MASSACRE OF THE MOORE FAMILY. Come listen each male and female, Come listen each gallant stout heart. To a tale of great anguish and pain, Will cause the hot tear-drops to start. Of Moore and his family, I sing, Whom the barbarous Indians have slain. His wife they a captive did bring, Who with sorrowing voice did complain, "Farewell to you, woodlands so green, Your valleys I ll never see more, Down by yon sweet murmuring stream, Lies bleeding the man I adore. With him my two innocent babes Whom the bloodthirsty Indians have slain, Oh, would that I were in their place, I d be free from all sorrow and pain !" No one lent a pitying ear, While she her sad state did bemoan, These sad wailing accents to hear, Would have melted the heart of a stone. ST. CLAIR S DEFEAT. 361 The Indians her sorrow to crown Then led her yet farther away A victim to their Shawnee town, And now came the murderous daj. A circle of fire most fierce , These inhuman wretches prepared, While she in the centre was placed, Her delicate person all bared. With splinters of light wood near by To pierce her fair body around ; When she her sad fate did espy, Lamenting she fell to the ground. Reviving herself then again, The mercy of Grod did implore, "Have mercy upon me, Death, And soon let my sufferings be o er !" Three days in this torment she lay, A-bleeding and suffering the while, Till the Lord did his mercy display, Looked down upon her and did smile. Come join me each brother and friend, Come join me each gallant stout heart, Consider her terrible end, And awhile from your sweethearts depart. I ve been where the cannons did roar, I ve been where the bullets did fly, And still I will venture once more These Indians to conquer or die ! 1791 ST. CLAltfS DEFEAT. The author of this, possibly the most celebrated of the popular songs of Southwestern Pennsylvania, as I am informed by my erudite co-laborer, Dr. "Wm. H. Egle, of Harrisburg, was Major Eli Lewis, who escaped the carnage of that terrible day on the head waters of the 362 ST. CL AIR S DEFEAT. Wabash, November 4th, 1791. He was the father of Hon.. Ellis Lewis, a Judge of the Supreme Court of Pennsyl vania, and the grandfather of Mrs. Juliet H. Campbell, a poet of merit. Major Lewis is notable, morever, for having published the first newspaper at the capital of the state, "The Harrisburg Visitor," which, afterward, in the hands of John Wyeth, became "The Dauphin Oracle." Major Lewis died in 1807, in York county, Pennsylvania, November the fourth, in the year of Ninety-one, We had a sore engagement near to Fort Jeffer son : St. Clair was our commander, which may remem bered be, For there we lost nine hundred men r in the West ern Territory. At Bunker s hill and Quebec, where many a hero fell, Likewise at Long Island, tis I the truth can tell : But such a dreadful carnage never did I see, As happened on the plains near the river St. Marie. Our militia were attacked just as the day did break, And soon were overpowered, and forced to retreat. They killed Major Ouldham, Levin and Briggs likewise, While horrid yells of savages resounded through the skies. Major Butler was wounded the very second fire ; His manly bosom swelled with rage when forced to retire. Like one distracted he appeared, when thus ex claimed he, " Ye hounds of hell, shall all be slain, but that revenged I ll be!" We had not long been broken when General But ler fell ; ST. CLAIR S DEFEAT. 363 He cries, "My boys, I m wounded ; pray take me off the field My God!" says he, "What shall we do? Were wounded every man ! Oo, charge i you valiant heroes, and beat them if you can ! " He leaned his back against a tree, and there re signed his breath, And, like a valiant soldier, sank in the arms of death ; When blessed angels did await his spirit to convey, And unto the celestial fields he quickly bent his way. We charged again, we took our ground, which did our hearts elate : But there we did not tarry long ; they soon made us retreat ; They killed Major Ferguson, which caused his men to cry i( Stand to your guns," says valiant Ford: "we ll fight until we die! " Our cannon-balls exhausted, our artillery men all slain, Our musket-raen and rifle-men their fire did sustain ; Three hours more we fought like men, and then were forced to yield, While three hundred bloody warriors lay stretched upon the field. Says Colonel Gibson to his men, "My boys, be not dismayed ; I m sure that true Virginians were never yet afraid ; Ten thousand deaths I d rather die than they should gain the field " With that he got a fatal shot, which caused him to yield. 364 SINCLAIR S DEFEAT. Says Major Clark, " My heroes, I can no longer stand : We will strive to form in order, and retreat the best we can. " The word retreat, being passed all round, they raised a hue and cry, And helter-skelter, through the woods, we like lost sheep did fly. We left the wounded on the field, heavens! what a shock ! iSome of their thighs were shattered, some of their limbs were broke ; But scalping- knives and tomahawks soon eased them of their breath, And fiery flames of torment soon tortured them to death. Now to mention our brave officers, tis what I wish to do ; No sons of Mars e er fought more brave, or showed more courage true ; To Captain Bradford I belonged, in his artillery. Who fell that day, amongst the slain : what a gal lant man was he ! SINCLAIR S DEFEAT. I append herewith another version of the popular old ballad of " St. Clair s Defeat " a version which I re ceived from John F. Beaver, Esq., of Ohio, as that of James McCalla, or McCauly, a popular, pock-marked Irish minstrel who flourished about the year 1808 in the neighborhood of Stoystown, Somerset County. Penn sylvania. Twas November the fo-urth, in the year of Nine ty-one, We had a sore engag-e-ment, near to Fort Jeffer son ; SINCLAIR S DEFEAT. 365 Sinclair was our comandi-er, which may remem- ber d be, For there we lost nine hundred men in the West ern Ter torie. At Bunker s Hill and at Quebec, where many a hero fell, Likewise at Long Isla-and, ( tis I the truth can tell,) And such a dreadful carnage may I never see again As happen d near St. Mari-ie s, upon the river plain. Our army was attacked just as the day did dawn, And soon was overpower d and driven from the lawn ; They killed Major Ouldham, Levin, and Briggs likewise, Whilst horrid yells of savages resounded through the skies. Major Butler was woundi ed the very second fire ; His manly bosom swell d with rage when forced to retire ; And as he lay in anguish, nor scarcely could he see, Exclaim d "Ye fiends of hell shall fall, but I reveng d will be ! " We had not long been broken, when G-en ral But ler found Himself so badly woundi-ed was forc d to quit the ground. "My God," says he, "what shall we do! we re wounded every man ! Go charge them, valiant hero-oes, and beat them if you can ! " He lean d his back against a tree, and there re- sign d his breath, 366 SINCLAIR S DEFEAT. And like a valiant soldi-er sank in the arms of death ; When blessed angels did await, his spirit to con vey ; And unto the celestial fields he quickly bent his way. We charg d again with courage firm, but soon again gave ground, The war-whoop then redoubled, as did the foes around. They killed Major Ferguson, which caused his men to cry, : 0ur only safety is in flight ; or fighting here to die. " "Stand to your guns," says valiant Ford, let s die upon them here, Before we let the savages know we ever harbor d fear. " Our cannon balls exhausted, and artill ry men all slain, Obliged were our musket-men the enemy to sus tain. Yet three hours more we fought them, and then were forced to yield, When three hundred bloody warri-ors lay stretch d upon the field. Says Colonel Gibson to his men, " My boys be not dismayed ; I m sure that true Virgini-ans were never yet afraid. " Ten thousand deaths I d rather die, than they should gain the field ; " With that he got a fatal shot, which caused him to yield. Says Major Clark, " My .heroes, I can here no longer stand, We ll strive to form in order, and retreat the best we can. " THE DEFEAT OF ST. CLAIR. 367 The word, Retreat, being pass d around, there was a dismal cry, Then helter-skelter through the woods, like lost sheep we did fly. This well appointed army which up until that day Defied and brav d all danger, like a cloud had pass d away. The dying and the woundi-ed I (how dreadful is the thought !) To the tomahawk and scalping- knife, in misery are brought; Some had a thigh and some an arm broke on the field that day, Who writh d in torments at the stake, to close the dire affray. To mention our brave officers, is what I wish to do; No sons of Mars e er fought more brave, or with more courage true. To Captain Bradford I belong d, in his artillerie, He fell that day amongst the slain, a valiant man was he. 1791 THE DEFEAT OF ST. CLAIR. The following poem was written by William Mun- ford, and published in Richmond, Virginia, in 1798, un der the title of " A Lamentation for the Patriots who fell November 4th, 1791." Americans, attend my song ; A tale of grief T tell, How twice five hundred warriors strong Far midst the forest fell. 363 THE DEFEAT OF ST. CLAIR. No friend their dying eyes to close, All pierced with wounds they lay, The scoff of cruel savage foes, The feast of birds of prey. Revenge, their gho&ts aloud demand, Revenge your brethren slain ; Revenue us on the savage band Which stripped us on the plain . The hawks who range the fields of air Are fattened with our gore ; All ghastly pile, exposed and bare, The dogs our bodies tore. Those hands which all things dared for yoia The greedy foxes gnaw ; Those hearts which beat to honor true Are buried in their maw. Shall they who, in their country s cause, When tyranny assailed, Stood the brave champions of her laws, And gallantly prevailed Say, shall their scalps with haughty eye, By tawny chiefs be shewn ? Methinks I hear them boasting cry, " AVhitemen, your fame is gone ! " Sleeps then that spirit which of yore The British thunder stayed, Forbad their lion huge to roar, And low his fury laid ? It does not sleep ; but soon shall rush Arrayed in native might, Their baseless vaunts in death to crush, And put their hopes to flight. Ye who, triumphant o er the slain, With feet inhuman stride, Soon on the same ensanguined plain, In blood may set your pride. THE DEFEAT OF ST. CLAIR. 369 Think not our want of courage wrought Our fall beneath your arms ; Our little army bravely fought Midst carnage and alarms. The greatest men may sometimes nod ; And so the great St. Glair By the dark providence of God Fell blindly in the snare. No scouts he sent, ond no look-out In marching did he keep ; In valor proud he thought no doubt His enemies asleep. Those arts which savage heroes own, So dismal was our lot, To our great chief seemed little known, Or at that time forgot. Our powder wet small aid would give, Our horses were too poor, With labor spent scarce seemed to live, Yet on he went secure. Ye too, ye vile commissioners, Who arms and steeds supplied, By you were caused your country s tears, The woods with blood were dyed. Oh, shame ! to glut the avarice Of some few abject thieves, Our dearest blood a sacrifice ! My very heart-blood grieves. From far-famed states the warriors came To Miami s fatal shore, Led on by chiefs of mighty fame, Yet thence returned no more. How many widows wring their hands ? How many orphans weep ? Each a dear hapless friend demands Now sunk in endless sleep. 370 THE DEFEAT OF ST. CLAIR. All ye who read this mournful tale, With hearts which pity warms, The hard necessity bewail, Which calls mankind to arms. Behold the good, the valiant die, On war s dread altar slain, And mourn for human misery, Ye that are born to pain. Now on the field of death they lay, The army there divided ; Some here, some there await the day, A creek between them glided. There, too, with care their steeds they On all sides guard the place ; And yet that very night they lost Five hundred in short space. The wile was laid that very night, Our troops with speed surrounded ; The savage heart with fierce delight In every bosom bounded. Now when the sun scarce reared his head, And shone with earliest ray, A pack-horse man his fortune led Where the militia lay. He asked for leave to pass the guard To seek a stolen horse, Then leave received without regard Of danger took his course. Scarce out of sight the wretch had passed ; A gun the soldiers hear, And back they see him fly in haste, Ten Indians in his rear ! For mercy was his piteous call, Our men came on to aid ; They fired, but saw the victim fall : The foe rushed undismayed. THE DEFEAT OP ST. CLAIR. 371 Sudden the dire war-whoop was heard, The hills, the woods resound, As springing from the earth appeared Indians on Indians round ! A thousand tomahawks were sped, The lives of men their prey, At once full many a valiant head Beneath their fury lay ! Awhile amazed our sqadrons stood And heard the dreadful cry ; Cold terror ran thro 1 all their blood, They tremble and they fly. Their comrades slain, a lucky few By speed the army joined ; A dismal hail of bullets flew The Indians close behind. Thither arrived, the foe retired ; The fugitives took breath, And there a respite short acquired From terror and from death. As twixt the flash and thund ring sound, When vivid lightnings gleam, A pause ensues, such now they found The respite sad, I deem. Now on all sides begins the fight, With horrid savage cries ; The smoke of guns turns day to night. Blood flows and groans arise. Then did the gallant Oldham fall ; As at the army s head He charged, he met the cruel ball Which laid him with the dead. Heroes, who with him pressed the plain That day with equal fame ; Forgive me if my feeble strain Tells not each mighty name. 372 THE DEFEAT OF ST. CLAIR. A hundred tongues would not suffice To give you all your praise, Too great for me the enterprize Your glorious deaths to raise. But now the bloody battle warms, Fiercer the hosts engage ; Our soldiers boldly stand to arms The Indians deadly rage. From ev ry side at once they came, And ev ry shot brought death ; In vain burned valor s vigorous flame, Our heroes spent their breath. While smoke and carnage blot the day Our guns are fired in vain, Destruction reigned and dire dismay O er all the ensanguined plain. With savage art behind each tree Protection sure they found : No man hia enemy could see ; The air our bullets wound. The cannon s awful voice awhile Their ardor fierce repressed, One moment stayed the bloody toil, New spirit filled each breast. But flight th effect the cannon wrought, Too well that sound they knew ; Those dreadful arts which white men taught. Now numerous white men slew. E en to their yawning mouths they came, And poured a leaden shower, Soon they who waked the cannon s flame Sank by its deadly power. Their arms the cruel Britons gave, Who view with fierce disdain The nation, whom they deemed their slave, The wreaths of glory gain. THE DEFEAT OF ST. CLAIR. 373 Full many Englishmen were seen Among the savage hosts, Nor would they take that part, I ween, But he, who holds the posts Which in despite of treaties stand And now nine years have stood, He placed the hatchet, in the hand Which reveled in our blood. Are, cruel England, these thy arts, And art thou thus avenged, Thus dost thou hope to gain the hearts Thy tyanny estranged ? Thus wilt thou break the sacred laws Which nations should obey, And haste to murder in the cause Of loathed despotic sway ? Yet midst the savage din of arms Which smote the bravest heart, St. Glair s brave soul felt no alarms : He did a warrior s part. With sad infirmity and pain w His aged limbs were prest ; But still his soul could sloth disdain : Still vigor filled his breast. While bloody streams around him flowed, Serene his dauntless eye ; Where danger loudest called he rode, What man could do, to try Once more to change war s cruel course To turn its rolling wave ; But naught availed ; nor art, nor force His brethren s lives could save. " Press on, brave boys ! your horses strain From their strongholds to drive Your savage foes ! " he cried in vain, The steeds were scarce alive. 374 THE DEFEAT OF ST. CLAIR. Two hours th ill-fated army stood Till weakness and dismay, Had heaped the field with death and blood ; They then at length gave way. Now was a hurried scene of flight, And shrieks and cries were heard ; The gallant host of late so bright, Now one wide wreck appeared. Thro all the woods the wretches fled Pale-faced with aching hearts, The hatchets trembled o er each head, Whistled the iron darts. But valiant Butler scorned to fly And taint his former name ; He chose to conquer or to die A sacrifice to fame. Firm in his post the hero stands, Whole squadrons round him dying, Undaunted calls to stop the bands, Who horror-struck were flying. scattered soldiers with him stood, hen came a wound severe ; Forth gushed in tides the smoking blood, His death he found draw near. He bid his men not vainly grieve Till flight might be too late ; " Farewell," he said : with tears they leave Their Gen ral to his fate. An officer his pistols gave To combat to the last, As soldiers should to seek his grave : The vital stream poured fast. Fierce midst the foes with dread despair The fainting hero rushed, When breathed his manly soul in air, With force superior crushed. THE DEFEAT OF ST. CLAIR. 375 Butler his countrymen shall mourn, Their friend forever lost, And doleful verse for aye adorn Him once Columbia s boast.* A wretched remnant yet remained In worthy Drake s command, He, tho with wounds repeated pained, Still spirited his band. Oft did he lead them gainst the foe, Oft bleed in glorious strife ; But heaven forbade a fatal blow To end his precious life. All hope now lost but life to save, And fly impending doom ; To charge them thro the word he gave, And gain their native home. Fierce, at the word, the men obey, And ev ry danger dare, Thro hostile crowds they hew their way, Made furious by despair ! Thus bravely saved, their comrades joined, By numbers driven they flew ; The helpless children left behind The thirsty hatchet slew. There a poor woman ran from death, Her helpless babe she bore, Till tired at length and out of breath She could support no more Its precious weight ; then, with a look, That spoke her breaking heart, She laid it down upon a block, And hastened to depart. A dreadful savage was at hand And clove its little head : She saw its blood disstain the land : With soul distracted fled. 376 THE DEFEAT OF ST. CLAIR. Now had the savages pursued The viet ry in their hand. Not one American had viewed Again his native land. Their thirst of plunder saved the life Of many a wretch who ran, For plunder was their savage strife Which busied ev ry man. The baggage seized, they next prepare To strip the gory dead ; But first with frightful ardor tear The scalp from evVy head. The helpless wounded who survey Their comrades horrid fates, With the dire tomahawk they slay, On all like death awaits. So from the mountains rough with snows, Gaunt, hungry wolves descend, To men and flocks unpitying foes, Their trembling prey they reqd. Now drunk with joy, they laugh, they sing, O er mangled bodies dance, And make the wide-spread forest ring With shouts and cruel taunts. Thus long as day its beams displayed, Sad carnage stained the light, E en till in mantle black arrayed Appeared the gloomy night. Thou, who bidst the war to roar, Columbia s mourning hear ! Ah ! may her children s groans no more With horror strike the ear ! With thy strong hands her soldiers guide A great revenge to take, Till Indian blood the fields have dyed With many a crimson lake. MIAMI A MONODY. 377 Till cooped within their proper bound, Their cruel swarins no more With flames our settlements surround And revel in our gore Till Peace, the angel Peace, at length With outstretched wings appear ; And all the world Columbia s strength Shall know and known revere. * General Richard Butler s combat with the Indian s< after he was shot, gave such peculiar interest to his fate that a representation, of himself and the group sur rounding him, in wax figures, was exhibited throughout I he United States. 1791 MIAMI A MONODY. The following lines, under the title of "A Monody to the Memory of the Young Heroes who fell at the Miami, under General St. Clair," is by a contemporary but unknown poet. Descend, bland Pity, from thy native sky, Come with thy moving plaint and melting eye : The Muses court thee from thy blessed abode, Thy throne of light embosomed in thy God ; With balmy voice the lurid tidings tell, How the brave bled and how lamented fell : How, in the earliest pride of opening bloom, On houseless wilds demand a sheltering tomb, Far from the social tie, the kindred tear, Denied the relic d urn, and trophied bier. In the deep horrors of the midnight shade, In the first onset dauntless valor made, Each youthful warrior wastes his rosy breath, And wooes stern honor, in the grasp of death ; Scarce seen to charm, just rising to applause, The blameless victim of a lubric cause, 378 MIAMI A MOJ*OT)TT. Torn like a plant beneath the early spring, When shivering Karus flaps his fateful wing. Ah ! say, what pure libations can be paid, What Pond atonement soothe the suffering shade? In vain from frozen age the warm tears flow, In vain bright beauty droops in clouds of woe, In vain the hero s laureled wreaths declioe, In vain the minstrel swells the notes divine : They, who afar these bootless griefs deride, And stain the fair Ohio s flowery side r Who tl.e wronged Indian s scanty treasures spoil r Waste his weak hope, and strip his subject soil, And. like the rattling serpent of the heath, On the lone sleepers pour the darts of death, They must atone ; from them the mourners claim Each loved associate and each treasured name ; Their cruel hands these desolations spread, Lost in their cause, each martyred hero bled ; Driven by their rage, the forest s children roam T And the lorn female wants a pitying home ; As if that wild which bounteous Heaveo displays From orient Phoebus to his western rays, Spread its broad breast in vain ; to them denies The gifts which Nature s equal care supplies. Since thine own hills and widening vales demand The farming ploughshare and the laboring hand, Why must that hand pollute the ravaged heath, That culturing ploughshare wage the deeds of death ? Though wakening Reason join her forceful strain, Still shall dejected Mercy plead in vain ? Or shall Columbia hear the rude behest, And clasp her murderers to her bleeding breast? Shall she, with impious hand and ruffian knife, From her first offspring rend the cords of life ? To Nature s sons with tyrant rage deny The woody mountain and the covering sky ? Ah, no! each sainted shade indignant bends, Bares his wide wounds, his reddening arin extends : THE GRAVE OF CATFISH. 3T9 Return, he cries, -ere -every hope is lost ; Ohio claims you on his osier coast : Return, though late^ the treacherous wish dis claim, Awake to justice, and arise to fame ; No more with blood the weeping soil deface, But spare the patient, suffering, warlike race. To you our lacerated spirits turn, From you demand a monumental urn ; For you our blushing wounds uncovered lie, Press the hard earth, and meet the bathing sky., Where the sick moon o erveils her pallid brow, And the lone night-bird swells the peals of woe. Not crimson War, nor Valor s glittering wreath To the pale corse restores the quivering breath ; 7 Tis the mild power of seraph Peace alone (Jan charm each grief, and every wrong atone ; Her healing hand shall waft oblivion round, And pour her opiates through each gushing wound. O er the cold ghost the mantling olive spread, And shade the ?od which laps the glorious dead. 1792? THE GRAVE OF CATFISH. A local tradition erroneously, but no matter en tombs the dust of Catfish beneath a large unhewn stone in a graveyard in Washington, Pennsylvania. This cel ebrated Indian was a chieftain of the Kuskuskees his Indian name being Tingoocqua; and as late as 1788, he lived in the neighborhood of Washington, the original name of which town was Catfish. He died in Ohio. The following stanzas by Hiram Kaine, a printer, are in ac cord with the tradition. A fitting monument was that For one so proud and stern More striking than a marble bust Or consecrated urn ! 380 THE GRAVE OF CATFISH. Unbending as that massive rock, Thou st braved the battle storm, And reared amidst its fiercest shock Thy dark, majestic form. Thou needst not fear the pale-face race. Who slumber by thy side ; They cannot tear the home from thee. Which living they denied. The unlettered stone above thy head Is not more still than they, The marble not more motionless That tells us where they lie. The rank green grass is twining Its wreath above thy head, As it ever richly twineth Round dwellings of the dead. Oh, does thy spirit ever come To gaze upon this mound, And tread upon the springing grass Above the hallowed ground ? Dost ever wander o er the hills Where once thy tribe did roam. And curse the race who on their graves Have built themselves a home ? Thou hearest not, dark chieftain Thy funeral song is sung, The emblems of thy power have flown, Thy last war-whoop hath rung. But yet thy name, by kindred ghosts, Is heard by yonder rill, As comes its murmuring midnight ehime In echoes from the hill. THE WHISKEY INSURRECTION. 381 1794 THE WHISKEY INSURRECTION. The following poem, as the author, David Bruce, of Ourgettstown, Washington county, a native, how ever, of Scotland, has told us, in a note to his volume of poeins published in Washington, in 1801, was the first poem which he wrote under the character of the Scots- Irishman, * in the year 1794, soon after the Whiskey In surrection in the western counties of Pennsylvania, where the author then resided." TO WHISKEY, Great Pow r, that warms the heart and liver, And puts the bluid a in a fever, If dull and heartless I am ever, A blast o thee Makes me as blythe, and brisk, and clever As ony bee. I wat ye are a cunning chiel, O a your tricks I ken fu weel, For aft ye hae gien me a heel, And thrown me down, When I shook hands wi hearts so leal, Ye wily loun. When fou o thee on Irish grun , At fairs I ve aft had muckle fun, An on my head wi a guid rung, Gat mony a crack ; An mony a braw chiel in my turn, Laid on his back. An here, tho sticks be laid aside, An swankies fight in their bare hide ; Let me o thee ance get a swig, I ll tak my part, An bite and , gouge and tread Wi a my heart. TO WHISKEY. Great strengthening pow r, without thy aid How could log-heaps be ever made ? To tell the truth, I m sair afraid, ( Twixt ye and me,) We d want a place to lay our head, Hadn t been for tliee. But when the chiels are fou o thee, Och ! how they gar their axes flee, Then God hae mercy on the tree, For they have naue. Ye d think (the timber gaes so free) It rafe its lane.* Without thee how could grass be rnawn ? Grain shear d, and into barnyards drawn ? An when auld wives wi faces thrawu Ly in the strae, I doubt, gin ye were nae at ban , There d be great wae. But it would tak a leaf and mail- To tell o a your virtues rare ; At wedding, gossiping and fair, Baith great and sma Look unco dowff if ye r na there, Great soul o a . Then foul befa the ungrateful diel That would begrudge to pay right weel For a the blessings that ye yiel In sic a store ; I d nae turn round upo my heel For saxpence more. * The wood splits so freely, you d think it would rive itself. ALEXANDER ADDISON. 383 TO ALEXANDER ADDISON. To the Judge, whose charge to the jury in the trials ot the insurrectionists is a magnificent monument to perpetuate his memory for many centuries to come, Mr. Bruce dedicated his volume of poems in the follow ing stanzas. Tho Brackenridge, an sic like chiels, Wi the wud rabble at their heels, Spit out at ye the spite o diels, Ye need na care ; Ilk honest man your merit feels What want ye mair ? Your mind, illum d by Knowledge s ray, An bent on usefV purpose ay ; Your steady, plain, an straight-on wa} 7 Will leave a track ; For them, when ance they ve had their day, .Nane need look back. Wi fittle, groveling, selfish minds, Fu o; low tricks, an base designs, Their names will ne er reach ither times ; Or, what still worse is, If e er their mentioned for their crimes, Twill be wi curses. In days, when the auld Roman state Was hast ning downward to its fate, Wi just sic arts as hae o late Come here in play ; By putting ilk thing good an great Out o the way Wha flourish d mair than Clodius then ? He chiefs to provinces could send ; Consuls to him their heads did bend ; He made them a ; For, wi the MOB at s finger s end, He made the law. 384 ALEXANDER ADDISOW. But wha speaks \*ell o Clodius now ? While Cato s name, wha, wi stern brow, Upright in virtue, ne er would bow To court the herd r Will live for ay, a ages thro , Prais d and rever d. But I had maist forgot to mention That, which at first was my intention Thir twa-three sangs O T my invention I here present ye ; Bout them I hae nae apprehension, Should they content ye It s praise by men like ye bestow d, Wha can distinguish brass from gowd, which true merit should be proud That s lasting fame : The noisy clattering o the crowd Can gie no name. Merit wi them s no worth the keeping ; Folly aft gets it, while he s sleeping ; Pert, blethering Dullness, Genius meeting, Aft turns him out ; An splendid Guilt, wi bluid a dreeping, Gets aft their shout. Let ithers tell them stories fause, For office green, wi hankering maws, An strive to please them wi their laws For to get in ; Ye ll never judge to gain their plause, Nor will I sing. Thae sangs are written in the phrase Our forbears spake in ither days Douce, honest carls ! on their braes They liv d fu snug, Wi sober, simple, peacefu ways, An toom d their coggr. TO II. H. BRACKENRIDGE. 385 Thvy had na hoard o Tamas Paine; An a the diabolic train His principles hae brought on men : They paid their rent ; An finding ilk thing else their ain, They were content. May ;i their bairns, whare er they be. On this or tither side the sea, Subject or citizen, (sae they re free It is a ane,) Wi settled minds, live peacefulie, Like them at hame. An whon your enemies hae gaen To that black hole was made by Sin, May ye your houord seat maintain Ri^ht to dispense, Wi mind, discriminating keen, An manly sense. TO H. H. BRACKEN RIDGE. In an address to this distinguished gentleman, whose conduct in the Whiskey Insurrection was so equivocal, as to render him suspected by the govern ment, and in whose exculpation he published in 1795, a book entitled "Incidents of the Western Insurrection of 1794," the Bard of Burgettstown makes the following allusion When Whiskey-Boys sedition sang, An anarchy strod owre the Ian , When Folly led Rebellion s ban , Sae fierce an doure, Folks said ye sleely lent a ban To mak the stoure. But ye soon pat it in a beuk, An tauld us how, by heuk and cruik, Ye wark t upo the rabble-rout, To do your biddin , 386 TO ALEX. F. DALLAS. An elear d yoursel frae ilka doubt, As clean s a ribban . TO ALEXANDER F. D ALL AX. To Alexander F. Dallas, the counsel for the prisoners in the Federal Circuit Court at Philadelphia, he makes ihis reference, in his address "To My Musie Or wi a stock o* impudence, An my sma share o tear an sense, I might been pleading fore a bench, Like flimsy D[allas,] His brother rogues, wi lame defence, To save frae gallows. A CANNY WORD. In an address to the Democrats of the West. Bruce refers to the Whiskey Insurrection, as follows. When, ance, about Whiskey, Ye a gat sae crusty, An swore ye d na pay fur a drap ; I leav t to yoursel s, ( Gif you re na sham d ) to tell s, What the deil ye wad then a be at. Ye loupt like mad nowt, An bawl d an cried out, Nae funding, excise/ an a that, An swore that the law Was a done awa The verra thing ye wad be at. But hark ye now, billies ! ( Howe er guid your will is ) The weakest, ye ken, maun fa back ; Gif the states sen agen Twal thousan arm d men, It maks na what deil ye d be at. WHISKEY. 387 1791 WHISKEY. In reply to David Bruce s address "To Whiskey," on I>age 381, Hugh Henry Brackenridge, a distinguished lawyer and politician of Pittsburgh, and a voluminous writer in prose and verse, published the following. The part which Brackenridge took in the Whiskey Insur rection gives a peculiar interest to this poem he, in t he opinion of many, having been guilty himself of the sedition wilh which ho charges Bruce, Your rouse* rins glib thro a my veins ; I find it at my finger en s: An but a gouk that has nae brains, Wad it deny, That mony a time, baith wit and sense If can supply. Far better than the drink ea d wine ; Wi me compar d tis wasli for swine : Ae gill is just as guid as nine, And fills as fou ; It is nae very long sinsyne, Ye prov d it true. That time ye made sae muckle noise, About the tax they ca Excise ; And got the name o Whiskey Boys. Frae laland glakes ; That cam 1 sae far, nae verra wise, To gie ye pa ikes. Tho I may say t amang oursel s, Ye gacd o er far wi your pelmells, On N[eville] t and the gauger W[ells,] || And ither louns. Far better ye had drank your gills, And eat your scons. 388 WHISKEY. It was a kittle thing to take The government sae by the neck, To thrapple everything and break Down rule and laws ; And make the public ship a wreck, Without guid cause, Twere safer ye had tulzied here, Wi chiels that dinna muckle care To gouge a wee bit, or pu hair, And no complain ; But a the tugs and rugings bear, Or let alane. The warst is, but to get a lesson, If some ane puts ye i the session, To take a prie o spiritual sneeshin Frae J[ohn] MeM[illan.] Wha l say o er ye a backward blissing. When ye re nae willing. But wha ist o ye mak s the verse, Sae very kittle and sae terse, That in the Gazzat gies me praise ? They say tis Bruce ; I canna half sae weel rehearse : Tak my excuse. I m mair among unletter d jocks Than well-lear d doctors wi their buiks ; Academies and college nuika I dinna ken ; And seldom wi but kintra folks, Hae I been benn. Ye canna then expect a phrase, Like them ye get in poets lays ; For where s the man that now-a-days. Can sing like Burns, Whom Nature taught her ain strathspreys, And now she mourns. TO ALBERT <GALLATTN. 389 S dinna like to sign my name, By tliat o Whiskey, fie for shame ! I had a better ane at hauie ; In town or -city. Whore u w>ere glad to uet a dram O AQUA VIT/K. * Rouse, praise. f That is. Whiskey, i General John Neville, the chief inspector of Wt-s- l.vrn Pennsylvania. See pages 78, 8<>, ii Benjamin Wells, the collector of Fayette county, and John Wells, the -collector of Westmoreland. That is, to take a pinch of spiritual snuff from the Reverend John McMillan of whom, see Joseph Smith s Old Redstone and History of Jefferson College, 1788 TO ALBERT G ALL ATI N. The following, from the pen of David Bruce, was written immediately after Gallatin s third election, </allatin played a conspicuous pnrt in Southwestern Pennsylvania in the last decade of the Eighteenth cen tury. His residence of stone, at New Geneva, on the Monougahela, is still in a good state of preservation. In 1786, or thereabout, in association with several others, he erected the first glass works west of the Alleghany Mountains, Great Sir, for none can doubt your claim To that appendage to your name, If greatness lies in being first On popular election list ; But as wise men sometimes dispute it, I will not here say much about it, But leave to your own calculation To fix the scale of reputation, And find the diff rence twixt fair fame And th ill got " whistling of a name." The Muse, with gratulation fit, Hails you, on your third tribuneship.* 390 TO ALBERT OALLATIN. O ! may your fortune be more happy, Than what befell the Roman Gracchi. Like you, they did their best endeavor To make the public balance waver, By throwing weights i th pop lar side. Because they could make better by t. (For things being weiiih d in even scale. And distributed in just tale, To each his due proportion nicking,f A demagogue can get no picking.) They strove, like you, with artful speech, To set the poor against the rich. Like you, they agitated laws, To gain the popular applause ; Agrarian laws, and equalizing, Men s properties and rights all sizing To take the land, the public stock, J And give t, for God s sake, to poor folk : The general interest of the whole Being far beneath a liberal soul. Like them, your motive is, you own, To keep th Aristocracy down ; But their s had real life and action, Your s but the mere bugbear of faction. *e> But, Sir, (if I may be so bold,) The likeness won t in all points hold. The generous Gracchi, tho they wish d, At home, mong Romans, to be first, When foreign foes, with naughty threat, Dar d to insult the Roman state, They never carried factious zeal, To th injury of the commonweal : They never taught degrading maxims, The vile resort of sinking factions, That " national interest is honor," And that , " the weak 8hould yield to the stronger ;" That " states, to save some paltry pence, Ought not to arm in just defence ; " And " peace a blessing is so great, It should be had at any rate." TO ALBERT GALLATIN. 391 No, Sir, they felt the public wrong, Their country s cause they made their own. And boldly on th embattled plain, Fought to advance the Roman name. Should any one at me enquire, Why you re unlike this gallant pair Tn this one point ? I d answer this, They Romans were, and you a Swiss !|| But, what I wanted most to say, Was something bout La Liberte. I mean not, Sir, that sober matron, In homespun gown and plain white apron, Whom Jefferson, in reverie frantic. Saw, once, from Britain "cross th Atlantic, " Scar d off (Alas ! it should alarm us,) By taxes, debts, and fleets and armies. No, no ; I mean that fine French lady, Of whom, they say, Voltaire was daddy, Dry-nurs d and fondled in the straw, Like Gipsy s brat by Jean Rousseau. Her Orleans Duke brought up to court. And kept for profit, more than sport ; But Madame often took a caper With Sieyes, and Mirabeau, and Necker, And sometimes had a tete-a-tete With our American Fayette. Till, going mong the lower gentry, She danced in every lane and entry The Carmagnole with Sans-Culottes, Or took a game at cutting throats ; And often, as she took the notion, Would go to Place de Revolution, And see her lovers, with great pleasure, Completely shav d with national razor :^f At length, with murder, rapine, pillage. She rioted in every village, Drove off the just, the wise, the good, And made the country red with blood. 392 TO ALBERT GALLATI.Y. Some say, this lad} 7 cross d the sea, With French Ambassador Genet, And that a certain factions party Did give the jade a welcome hearty, Tho Washington at her reception, Frown d sternly, and deny d protection 1 . But, since of late, the nymph s supporters Begin to fai) her on all quarters, She has, they say, to you come weeping, And you have ta r en her into keeping. Then keep her, Sir ; restrain her roaming, We do not want her to be common. For us, we d rather entertain The decent, chaste, and modest dame, Whom Jefferson saw in his dream. * This was written immediately after GallatirTs Third election to a seat in Congress, in 1798. t Alluding to the practice of keeping tallies by notched sticks. t The elder Gracchus proposed ft law to divide the Conquered lands among the poor. tiallatin was born and educated in Genevas hence the name of New Geneva, his residence on the Monon- jrahela. Bruce seems to take delight in hitting the Hes sians and other mercenary soldiers of Germany over the >houlder of Gallatin. g Thomas Jefferson, in his "Notes on Virginia," speaking of Great Britain, says, "Her liberty has crossed the Atlantic." The Guillotine, so called by the facetious French. Bruce refers to Gallatin quite frequently in his po ems in his address to Brackenridge, as follows. A story, Lad, begins to rin, That you re owre great wi Gallatin, The wily Frenchman, And that again to put him in Is your intention. DEMOCRATIC DOGGEREL. 393 Ye ken this slee, auld-farran knave Has gieti the government a heave, Wi intent to throw it i the grave mobbish ruin, That he an Willie Thrum* might weave A braw French new ane. Ye ken how, wi ilk art an shift, He excused French robbery an theft, An , wi his will, wad let nane lift A han again em, But rather wad gie them a gift, Than strive to restrain em. <!if sic a man be sent again Whare he can put his plots in train, To set (which ay has been his aim) The mob a madding; What pledge hae honest peacefu meri For house or hauding ? William Findley was a weaver by trade. 1799 DEMOCRATIC DOGGEREL. From the Recollections of James B. Oliver, publish ed in Frank Cowan s Paper in April, 1874, the following extract is taken The election of 1799 was very exciting. This was about the beginning of politics in this country. Brack en ridge was a very fiery Democrat. He wrote burlesque poetry on almost every prominent Federal candidate. I can recollect some of his verses to this day. Tom Collins down From Wilkin s town Came to the crowd s assistance ; The little rogue With Dublin brogue, He grinned and drew his fist once. 394 DEMOCRATIC DOGGEREL. Steel Sample stood That man of blood With that slim thing his student ; Prepare, says he, I clearly see, This meeting has no good in t. An Oli-ver Also was there Not Cromwell for he s dead He wasn t warm And did no harm, Slipped home and went to bed. This referred to Oliver Ormsby, one of the first set- tiers of Pittsburgh, and not to any of the Oliver family. A pistol broke Without a lock, Was seized by Andrew Willock Who swore he d shoot down Some man of the town, Or he would have some ill luck. There was a good deal more of this doggerel, but I ran not recollect it. The Democratic party was success ful that Fall. Yes, the Democratic party was successful, and Kraokenridge was rewarded for his services with a seat on the Supreme Bench of Pennsylvania, to the disgust of Bruce, causing him to exclaim It s unco fine to see your wit. Adorning Israel s filthy sheet;* What s worse waes me, that I should see it ! My Brackie s Muse! Tuning her dainty, winsome reed, For sic a use! * The Herald of Liberty, published by John Israel, at Washington, Pennsylvania. THE WORTHIES. 395 1801 - A REVIEW OF THE WORTHIER BY DA VXD BRUCE. First comes [McKean,]* a mighty For skill in war, an law, man, Wham sovereign mob, wi awfu nod, Has set aboon us a , man, politics he kens the tricks, As a his actions shaw, man : He cares ua whither, this side or tither. Sue he can hit the ba , man. There s D[allas,]f now, wi actor s bow : , Sae showy an sae braw, man, Wi frothy scum, au sleek it tonguo, He far outshines them a , man. He has in s han a speech for Tarn, Or some report <> law, man Na, na speak saft ! It is a draft He means on France to draw. man. Now, honest folks! here comes T[ench] C[ox,]"j; He stately walks awa , man, As auce. wi pride, by the warrior s side, In Ph [ila] d [elphi] a, man. Ane greater now than Willy H[owc,] |j C[ox] to his friends can shaw, man ; Ilk ither name to Tarn [McKean], For warlike deeds looks sma , man. Now F[indley] comes, a man o thrums. He s thrown his pirns awa , man, His loom, an gears, an creeshie wares, An s ra en to making law, man ; But were this Ian rul J on his plan, We d now be at the wa , man ; Or had, at best, a ravel d hesp, At which to tug an draw, man. 396 THE WORTHIES. Here s G[allatin,]*[[ wha ance did sin. The government to thraw, man, Yet this confest, still does his best Fierce discord s coal to blaw, man. Wi foreign twang, an reasons wrang. He keeps an unco jaw, man ; An says, to fight for national right Nae honour is ava, man. Wha hae we here? It s Brack,** I swear! A name that was na sma , man, A man o fun, the Muse s son, He bore a great eclat, man. But och ! what pity, that wise an witty Together seldom draw, man ! Wi winding cruiks, thro holes an 1 nuiks, His credit s run awa , man. That wizzened shape ! Is it an ape. Or something stuffed with straw, man ? It s crest it cocks, an has a vox, Et nil prefer ea, man. But I maun tell ye, it s J[ohnny] S[railie],ft A lad can fight them a\ man, Wi mob at heels, he ll gar the chiels Vote right, or run awa , man. Here s Willy [Hoge],|J a name in vogue, Amang the lower raw, man, An honest man, wi notions wrang, Bout liberty an law, man. Sic is the thirst o being first, Which burns in some folks maw, man, That first in kitchen is mair bewitching Than equal in the ha , man. Sure ye hae heard o Absy [Baird] |||| Ane skilled in pill an sa , man, Tho it is said, to ply his trade He is a wee thing slaw, man ; THE WORTHIES. 397 But he s the chap can turn the caup, An round the bicker ca , man He ll driok an 1 sruoke, an gain a vote Wi onj o them a , man. Amang fche lave, here s Sleepy Dave, Tho hindmost in the raw, man ; Yet he s the wight, wha has the sleight The giddy herd to ca\ man. In his back-room, they under thumb Their wheedling projects draw, man, He an his gang, Jem, Jack, and Tarn, An printing Jack,*[f^f an a man. If I had time, or could find rhyme Their characters to draw, man, There s rnony mair o Worthies rare In Pennsylvania, man. I hope these few, I ve brought in view,, When we re dead and awa , man, In this my sang, may, flourish lang, Vivaf Respublic", man. * Thomas McKean, Governor of Pennsylvania. t Alexander F. Dallas, Secretary of the Common wealth of Pennsylvania. } Tench Cox, a prominent turn-coat of the times. i| Sir William Howe, the British General, whom Cox is said to have accompanied in his triumphal entry in to Philadelphia. g William Findley, the first M ember of Congress from Westmoreland, and the author of a History of the Whiskey Insurrection in which he played a conspicu ous part, 1j Albert Gallatin, also a participant in the Whiskey Insurrection, afterward Secretary of the Treasury of the United States. ** H. H. Brackenridge, of whose talents Bruce had a. high opinion. ff John Smilie, Member of Congress from Fayette county. "This gentleman has been an actor in the po litical scene, since the Revolution, like his compeer Findley ; but has been brought into notice by the exer cise of far less substantial talents. His chief faculty is 398 THE INDIAN CHIEF. loquacity, and a facility of making popular harangues : together with the art of all demagogues, of going along with the inclinations and humors of the multitude, so that by seeming to follow they may lead." Bruce. ft William Hoge, "a man of understanding, but of strong and unconquerable prepossessions." Itruce. HI Dr. Absolom Baird. g? David Acheson, an Irishman sent to the legisla ture from Washington county before he was naturalized and obliged to vacate his seat. From his slow and de liberative appearance, mistaken for stupidity, he re ceived the soubriquet of "Sleepy Dave." Bruce refers to him in another poem Perhaps the legislative Dive Dosing owre projects deep an grave, His drowsy head fra e sleep to save Has ta eri a start, An sung a wild discordant stave To th Irish Harp. ff John Israel, the publisher of the Herald of Liber ty, at Washington. 1804 THE INDIAN CHIEF. That it may serve no other end than just a kind memento of Sally Hastings* the "warbler" of Wash ington county three quarters of a century ago, I include in this collection the following poem from her facile pen, "The Indian Chief: A True Story: The circum stances took place in the year 1804" which, in detail, the curious reader will find in the fifth chapter of David Elliott s Life of Elisha Macurdy, published in Allegheny in 1848. See, lowly bending on his knees Wiandot s warlike chief,f With anxious doubts disturbed, he prays, And pours forth all his grief. Sick, and opprest with pains and scars, He bows before the throne, And there unburdens all his cares, To Grod (tho loved) unknown. THE INDIAN CHIEF. 399 "0 thou, great Spirit, from on high. Look down, I thee implore; Instruct my heart, direct my way, And guide me evermore. " Shall I the darling of my breast, My infant son resign ; And leave him in a land of Christ, With ministers of thine? " And wilt thou him a Christian raise, A minister to be, That he may come and preach thy grace, To his own tribe and me? * Spirit good, thy high decree And great design impart ; If this thy will, 6 heal thou me, And ease my troubled heart. " The Grod of Mercy, from on high, Regarding his request, " Looked down, with pity s softest eye," And eased his lab ring breast. Three times he prayed, "0 Spirit good, Where shall I leave my son ? To speed my feet, mark out my road, Send thine own angel down. " His suit was heard, and mercy moved Th eternal Father s breast, To send an angel, whom he loved, To guide, and give him rest. The mother s screams and wild distress, Unmoved, the warrior hears ; And, thro the lonely wilderness, His smiling infant bears. And o er Ohio s silver flood The savage hero hies ; And there, unto the Christian s God, Consigns the blooming prize. THE INDIAN CHIEF. Twas here, in presbyt ry combined, The ministers of God, A solemn court in council joined, To spread his Word abroad : When, from Sandusky s distant plains, The gallant chief draws near ; And in his graceful arms sustains His infant son, most dear. v> Hail ! fathers, brothers, God has taught His truth and grace to you : To you my only son I ve brought, That He may teach him too. v - Say, will you take my little boy ; Will you his father be ; And him instruct and qualify, To come and preach to me ? u Will yoi* bim guide, instruct, and guard., With strict impartial care ; From evil company retard, And ev ry sinful snare ? " " Yes, brother ; we with joy indeed This tender pledge receive : We will him clothe, instruct, and feed Grace, only God can give." " Will you then pray the God you love, To grant him grace divine, And ev ry gift; each want remove ; To ev ry good incline ? " This we will do," consents each one, " And with parental care, We will regard your little son, And intercede, by prayer : With God, who faithful is, and true, And hears his children s cries, That he will graciously, from you, Accept this sacrifice." THE INDIAN CHIEF. 401 Well pleased, the grateful chief bestows The off ring of his heart A manly tear his cheek bedews, As he prepares to part. Low bending o er his son asleep, He pours a parting prayer ; While, in his breast, alternate weep Love, gratitude, and care. a Farewell, my son," the warrior cries, "My son I dearly love : If we ne er meet below the skies, I trust we ll meet above." Now joy and admiration share, Alternate, ev ry breast ; And in the good Macurdy s care, They place their infant guest. The little prattler s op ning charms His leisure time employs : He in fair Mira s fost ring arms, A mother s care enjoys. See how heav n s condescending King Did grant the savage prayer Of noble Barnet, and did bring His son in safety here. Will not each heart, that loves his grace, Join in this sweet request ; That he will raise Sandusky s race, Sandusky s chief will bless ? Grant him thy Spirit, our God ! Thy healing power do show ; And purify, thro pard ning blood, Himself and people too. * Different Poems : To which is added a Descriptive Account of a Family Tour to the West in the year 1800, in a Letter to a Lady: By Sally Hastings. Lancaster : Printed and sold by William Dickson : The Benefit of 402 PLEASANT onro. the Authored: 1808. In her address "to Critics/ she styles herself k< the little warMer." t This Indian went by the name of Barnet his son .7ohn Barnet. The Indian name of the pious father wav- rnunqusv. signifying Flyhig Arrow. I80J PLEASANT OHIO. In 1801, a company was formed at Granville. Massa chusetts, with the intention of making a settlement in the state of Ohio, The project met with great favor and much enthusiasm was elicited. The following stanzas-,, are from a soag of the day to further the project. When rambling o er these mountains And roeks, where ivies grow Thick as the hairs upon your bead, Mongst which you cannot go - r Great storms of snow, cold winds that blow r We scarce can undergo ; Says I, my boys, we ll leave this place For the pleasant Ohio. Our precious friends that stay behind, We re sorry now to leave ;. But if they ll stay and break their shins. For them we ll never grieve ; Adieu, ray friends 1 come on my dears, This journey we ll not forego, And we will settle Licking Creek, In yonder pleasant Ohio. 1810 POLLY WILLIAMS. The following ballad was written by Samuel Little, <>t Fayette county, soon after the murder of Polly Wil liams, May 12th, 1810. It has been published several times in the local newspapers, and with many varia tions from the text here given, by A. F. Hill, in his "POLLY WILLIAMS. 403 :novel " The White Rocks, or Tlve Robber s Den," to which the Reader is referred for an admirable expres sion of the effect which the tragedy had upon the people of the neighborhood. The crudities of the following version, from a pamphlet published in Uniontown, about lorty years ago, commend its preservation if for no other reason than that of-comparison with Mr. H.ill i< revision. Mr. Little was present when the body of the murdered woman, was removed from the base of the White Rocks, and deposited in a grave at the foot of the mountain. A lily ooce fell by a, mower s rude prowess, Lambs perished while licking the murderer s hands; A sweet, blooming virgin was slain by her lover. While waiting for transport in Hymen s soft ba^nds. Long rains swelled Hie rivers, black clouds hid tfoe mountains, The vales lay enveloped i misty array; I climbed the wet hills, and, with heart-rending horror, Surveyed the sad spot where all mangled she lay. Grim rose the huge rocks and deep sunk were the caverns,, ,_ > With thorns and keen briars the place was o er- grown ; Above, the dark brow of the mountain stood frowning, In the valley sad midnight had built her dark throne. Sweet girl, twas too rude for thy nuptial chamber, Was it meet that a bride on the cold ground should lay ? That the howling of wolves and the screams of the panther Should furnish the songs of thy nuptial day ? 104 POLLY WILLIAMS. How long did st thou toil up the steep, rugged mountain ? How weary, how fainting thy delicate frame ? Yet fond hope still cheered thee, the moment ap proaching To crown thy best hopes and to banish all shame. Say, when did wild gasping succeed to fond toy ing? Ah, when did st thou find the extent of thy woes ? When did the fond lover transform to a demon ? His purpose accursed how could he disclose ? I see thee all pale and all trembling before him I hear thy entreaties thy heart-piercing cries ; But poor lonely victim ! no helper was near thee No father no mother, to answer thy sighs. The conflict begins, his hands are uplifted ; I see thy blood streaming thy screams are in vain Hough rocks will not hear thee, his heart is still harder Twas ad mant from hell that composed his frame. Those fair eyes so lately with tenderness beaming Now roll with wild horror and smart with keen pain ; And soon, very soon, will be closed up forever No sun of to-morrow will greet them again. At thy wide-gaping wounds thy poor spirit waits fluttering A path all unknown she must quickly pursue ; A faint, a last sigh from thy bursting heart whis pered, " Poor traitor ! poor murderer ! I bid thee adieu ! " PCVLLY WILLIAMS. 40d Yo rocks, ye were marble, or sure you d have melted ; But with the curs d traitor ye too were com bined, Though stained with their heart s blood ye still stand relentless ; Betrayed and deserted, no friend could she find. Ye caverns that groaned when her heart strings were breaking, Could not you concealed the poor tortured fair ? Or your grim jaws expanding have seized her tor mentor And plunged his black soul to eternal despair? And where slept the thunder, the lightning s red anger ? Could no friendly genius have darted it down ? Had heaven forgot to be present in danger, When lovers proved murderers and helpers were gone ? Still groan, ye deep caverns! Still shriek ye dark alleys ! Let the lost murderer witness, who near you shall stray, The long-lengthened anguish, the soul-rending tortures That closed the sad eve of her nuptial day, Poor injured spirit, thy murderer is living - For Justice, grown weary, forbore to pursue ; By lawyers defended, by jurors acquitted, His presence detested still tortures our view. If justice on earth is too often perverted. If lawyers can rescue the worst of mankind ; The great Court of Heaven is not to be bribed - There poor injured innocence a refuge can find. 406 POLLY WILLIAMS. Twas piteous, poor Polly, that strangers rude shoulders Through thickets should bear thee down to thy long home, Rough pines of the mountain thy soft limbs sup porting, And no gentle relative weep at thy tomb. Twas the cold hand of strangers that placed thy death pillow, That closed thy sunk eyes and thy winding- sheet gave ; No friend stood around thee to sing a soft re quiem, No tear of a parent to soften thy grave. Ye spirits that sit round the grave of the mur dered, Each evening chant forth her unparalleled woes! Ye cold clods that hide her, lie light on her bo som Once torn by rough rocks, thy soft flesh asks repose. Sweet sufferer, sleep on ! and may heaven protect thee! May angels sit watching thy innocent clay, Till the last trumpet sounds, and thy soft slum bers breaking Calls thee home to the realms of ineffable day. 1810 THE MURDER OF POLLY WILLIAMS. BY A. F. HILL. The sun is glowing at the close of day, Bathing the landscape with celestial fire ; The earth is decked with all the flowers of May, And hills and dales smile in their fresh attire. POLLY WILLIAMS. 407 The mountains rear their lofty heads on high They too, are clad with foliage fresh and green As though they fain would kiss the azure sky, And thus add grace of action to the scene. The evening air is pleasant, calm and still ; No sighing breeze or tender zephyr blows Against the face of the ascending hill, To stir the wild- vine or the mountain rose. Half hid among: the trees, full many a cliff Clings to the mountain side ; but there is one That rises far above the rest, as if To catch the last rays of the setting sun. So high it towers, that, from its lofty crest, Full thirty miles of rolling hills are seen, All in the pleasant garb of spring-tide dressed ; And many vales that, sleeping, lie between. What quiet reigns ! the air how soft and mild ; The old gray rocks how silent and how grave ; How motionless the vines and bushes wild ; The trees how still, their branches do not wave. But hark ! what piercing scream breaks on the air From yonder cliff that rears so high its crest ? What dread, what danger, or what pain is there? What mortal so affrighted or distressed? Or was it but a panther on the height, That shrieked so like a human in dismay ? Did it but call a comrade for the night, To go and seek some unsuspecting prey ? Hark ! tis repeated ! tis a human shriek ! A maiden s voice ! it calls aloud in fear ! What danger threatens ? What aid does she seek ? Or who is there in this wild place to hear ? Do prowling wolves come swift upon her track, Emboldened by the near approach of night ? 408 I OLLY WILLIAMS. And does she, to avert the mad attack, Flee to the summit of the rocky height? Ah, no ! Behold a more vindictive foe A murderer ! she struggles in his grasp ; He fain would hurl her to the ground below ; But still she shrieks, and clings with frantic clasp. He heeds her not her prayers are all in vain ; His soul is belli.- h fire his heart is stone ; His rude hand thrusts her to the brink again : She shrieks and falls, and now the deed is done.. At such a deed, the blushing orb of day Covers his face behind a western hill, As if, indeed, ashamed to longer stay, And gaze on acts so dreadful, base and ill. The murderer flees, his soul beset with fear ; He starts away amid the gathering night ;. His deed is seen, avenging hands are near; They swift pursue him in his hasty flight. They ve gone the murderer and avengers too : He rushes down the mountain like the wind; On wings of vengeance, they as swift pursue, And leave the solemn scene of death behind. Where yonder cliff arises, draw thou near; In awe, remove the covering from thy head ; .Be grave and thoughtful drop a silent tear, Thou standest in the presence of the dead. There lies the body, lifeless, bruised and torn ; The soul has barely winged its flight away : The wild- vines sigh, the rude rocks laugh in scorn, At such a helpless, useless lump of clay. Ho beautiful a single hour ago ; So full of life the home of sense and light : But ah, how dull, how dumb and lifeless now ; How changed in looks, how ghastly to the sight. POLLY WILLIAMS. 409 Ah, maiden, what infatuating dream Hath brought thee here to meet the murderer s wrath ? Did some impatient friend across the stream Direct thy foot-steps up the mountain path ? Was there a beckon from an unseen hand ? A noiseless whisper from a silent breath ? To call thy spirit from the lower land, And urge thy body to untimely death ? Oh, stand aside, impenetrable veil ! That hides the land of shadows from our sight ! Oh, let us see the waiting friends that hail The maiden s spirit in its upward flight ! Ah, could we see the liberated soul Enter the portals of the land above, Received by waiting parents at the goal, And clasped in arms of everlasting love ! Then might we turn, without a single tear, And fix our gaze on the deserted clay : The picture of the spirit s heavenly cheer Would surely drive the earthly gloom away. Let not the tender form lie here to-night ; Let not the pale cheek catch the falling dew : The mournful owl is screaming on the height, As though himself were filled with sorrow too. The veil of night is falling thick and fast ; The glow-worm dances on the mountain side ; On stealthy wings, the bat goes flitting past ; The whippoorwill is chattering far and wide. May not some hungry wolf scent from afar Those drops of blood that sprinkle the white face? And steal up in the darkness to devour The helpless form once full of life and grace ? 410 BEAVER S BOOTS. flesh like this feed savage beasts of prey, Amorii: these lonely hills, now wrapped in? gloom ? Oh, no! Come friends, hear the cold form away. And, with due rites, enclose it in the tomb. BEAVER S BOOTS. Though the following famous song belongs appro priately to the political history of the State of Ohio, it is inserted here because the hero belongs to the history of Southwestern- Pennsylvania from the time of the War of 12 to the year in which he removed from Pitts burgh toTrumbull county, Ohio, in 1843, where he died in 1877. He was born in Somerset county, Pennsylva nia; was a distinguished member of the bar of West moreland and Allegheny counties; and a remarkable man a very remarkable man In that he carried his coarseness on his exterior while all was fine within,, The song WJTS written by John Greiner, the State Libra rian, a man of fine literary and social attainments, who fame into general notice as a writer of political songs in Hie Hard Cider campaign of 1840. The circumstances which led to its production are as follows, as Mr, Beaver himself has given the writer the story The origin of the song was the first appearance of Mr. Beaver in the Senate under the most peculiar cir cumstances. He was elected in 1845, before the day of numerous railroads in Ohio. The session commenced on the first Monday in December ; the Whigs and Dem ocrats were a tie, and the absence of one member would give the opposite party the organization of the Senate: hence the greatest anxiety existed for every man to be promptly at his post. Mr. Beaver went from his home at Newton Falls, Trumbull county, to Cleveland, and designed to take a boat to Sandusky city, and thence to ijo down theSandusky, Mansfield & Newark railroad to Newark; but no boat could be procured, and he was compelled to take a wagon for Columbus. The roads were very muddy, and progress was slow. At a distance of twelve miles from Columbus the wagon broke down and left the occupants sticking in the mud. This oc curred at three o clock in the morning of Monday, the day on which the legislature would meet at nine A. M. Mr. Beaver determined the Whigs should not sutler on account of his absence, and accordingly started on foot. BEATER S BOOTS. 411 rih rough mud of any imaginable depth, for the capitol, .Five minutes before nine o clock, the Whigs were gath ered in groups about the capitol deploring the absence ul Heaver, and lamenting the triumph which the Dem* ocrats would enjoy in ten minutes in the election of the officers of the (Senate. A niwuber came out of the Hall nnd excitedly declared to Mr. Dennison ( Wm., Jr., af ro r \vard Attorney (General of the United States) that .Heaver ought to be killed - the bell by this time having been rung and Charles 0. Cwnvers, of Muskingurn, after ward elected Speaker, on the floor making a speech to kill time. Dennison, however, replied that Beaver .had . jome and averted his deserved immolation, at the same lime eyeing a huge m >vmg ra iss so covered with mud .as to be barely recognizable as a human being, pro pelled by two sturdy duck-legs terminated with feet which looked like a pair of potato-holes. "No!" said the excited member, "he has not come!" "Yes," re plied Dennison, "that is he," pointing to the approach ing mound of mud. " What! those boots !" And from Miat day " Beaver s Boots " became a byword for years .in Ohio and furnished the Democrats with an inexhaus tible source of ridicule on the ablest member the Whigs <*iad in ihe Senate for the next six years.. Strike, strike the harp I come, sweep the lyre ! Kindle and blaze, Promethean tire, Tune up your sweetest dulcet notes, My ponderous theme is Beaver s Boots ! Old Trumbull s bull a bull whose hide Grew thick and tough took sick and died : His soul went with all other brutes, His hide went into Beaver s Boots ! Millions of creeping things lie dead, Mingled and crushed beneath his tread, Two Insect Smashers Death recruits His ranks in following Beaver s Boots ! When first they thundered up the aisle, Filled inside outside with Free Soil. The Senate hushed their fierce disputes, And speechless gazed at Beaver s Boots ! 412 THE LILY OF THE WEST. The tangled hair of Whitman* rose, And pale with fear grew Graham sf nose, Byers alarmed and backward shoots, Aghast, amazed at Beaver s Boots ! The Chase|| was up, the Swift grew lazy. The Burns*|f grew cold, the Payne** grew easy. E en Cunniogham sff white head salutes The High Soled man in Beaver s Boots ! That well filled vest with pride displays The guard-chain red of other days ; That unshaved, honest face denotes A Governor stands in Beaver s Boots ! * Henry C. Whitman, a leading Democrat, had lung, lank, Indian-like hair that came down over his -houlders a man of some oratorical power, afterward H judge. f John Graham, a Democrat, with a beacon light in his nose if not in his head which gave him distinction. t Andrew Byers, a Democrat. || Salmon P. Chase, not then a member of the Sen ate, but canvassing for the United States Senate. I Lucian Swift, a henchman of Chase. f Barnabas Burns. ** H. B. Payne, a prominent Democrat, afterward in < ongress from Cuyahoga. ft James Cunningham, a Democrat, prematurely grey. t Mr. Beaver was regarded the leader of the Whig party in the Senate, and spoken of as a candidate for the governorship of Ohio. The last line ran over the state like a prophesy to be fulfilled as certainly as a decree of Fate. HANDSOME MARY, THE LILY OF THE WEST. The following song belongs to the era of the keel- boatman on the Ohio river and its tributaries, although It is sung occasionally at this day. The heroine is said THE LILY OF THE WEST. 413 *Co have been thedaught-er of a clergyman of Lexing* ion., Kentucky her name, Mary Morrison, on account of her great beauty and accomplishments, styled "The iBelle of Lexington " and "The Lily of the West." For some unknown .cause, sfee r;m away from her horne,and abandoned herself to a life of dissipation in Louisville. Here. young man, of fine address, from Ohio, became Miamored of her charms, and madea proposal of mar- triage to her. She accepted him. But while awaiting the wedding-day, he became aware of her shameless, Hfe; and iu a moment of passion, incident wpon meet ing her in company with her lover for the nonoe, he killed hitii: for which he was tried for murder and con victed; and while in prison awaiting the day of execu tion, he composed th-s.song which bears her name. For all which and the song, I am indebted to my .genial friend WMI. H. Morrow, Esq., of Man<jr, When first I came to Louisville some pleasure there to find, A damsel fair from Lexington was pleasing to my mind. Her cherry cheeks and ruby lips, like arrows pierced my breast, They called her Handsome Mary, the Lily of the West. I courted her awhile, in hopes her love to gain, But she proved false to me which caused me much pain. She robbed me of my liberty, deprived me of my rest, They called her Handsome Mary, the Lily of the West. One evening as I rambled, down by a shady grove, I saw a man of low degree conversing with my love. They were singing songs of melody, while I was sore distressed, faithless, faithless Mary, the Lily of the West ! 414 THE BOAT-HORN. I stepped up to my rival, my dagger in my hand. I caught him by the collar, and boldly bade him stand ; Being driven to desperation, I stabbed him in the breast, But was betrayed by Mary, the Lily of the West ! At length the day of trial came, I boldly made my plea, But the judge and jury they soon convicted me. To deceive both judge and jury so modestly she dressed, And there she swore my life away, the Lily of the West. THE BOAT-HORN. The author of this poem was William Orlando But ler, a son of Percival, the fourth of the Butler brothers, distinguished in the annals of warfare in the West. He was an ensign in the Second United States Infantry in the War of i 2, and made a prisoner under General Winchester at the Battle of River Raisin, January 22nd, boatman ! wind that horn again ; For never did the listening air Upon its lambent bosom bear So wild, so soft, so sweet a strain What though its notes are sad and few, By every simple boatman blown, Yet is each pulse to nature true, And melody in every tone 1 How oft in boyhood s joyous day, Unmindful of the lapsing hours, I ve loitered on my homeward way By wild Ohio s brink of flowers, While some lone boatman, from the deck, THE BOAT-HORN. 415 Poured his suft numbers to that tide, As if to charm from storm and wreck The boat where all his fortunes ride ! Delighted Nature drank the sound, Enchanted Echo bore it round In whispers soft, and softer still, From hill to plain, and plain to hill ; Till e en the thoughtless, frolic boy, Elate with hope, and wild with joy. Who gamboled by the river side, And sported with the fretting tide, Feels something new pervade his breast, Chain his light step, repress his jest, Bends o er the flood his eager ear To catch the sounds far off yet dear Drinks the sweet draught, but knows not why The tear of rapture fills his eye. And can he now, to manhood grown, Tell why those notes, simple and lone, As on the ravished ear they fell, Bound every sense in magic spell ? There is a tide of feeling given To all on earth, its fountain Heaven. Beginning with the dewy flower, Just oped in Flora s vernal bower Rising creation s orders through With louder murmer, brighter hue That tide is sympathy ! its ebb and flow Gives life its hues of joy and woe. Music, the master spirit that can move Its waves to war, or lull them into love Can cheer the sinking sailor mid the wave, And bid the soldier on ! nor fear the grave ; Inspire the fainting pilgrim on the road, And elevate his soul to claim his Grod. Then boatman ! wind that horn again ! Though much of sorrow mark its strain, Yet are its notes to sorrow dear ; What though they wake fond memory s tear ! Tears are sad memory s sacred feast, And rapture oft her chosen guest. 416 THE PENNSYLVANIA LINE. 1812 THE PENNSYLVANIA LINE. Freemen ! leave eacfe lovely charmer \ Round our sacred standard joio ; Haste and bu-ckle o your armor Form the Pennsylvania Line ! Pennsylvania, famed in story, Of our federal arch the key, Calls her sons to field of glory,. There to die, or still live free. Arts of peace must now knock uder Martial ardor bears the sway Hark ! Bellona calls ii> thunder To the battle maicfe away f Haughty Britain long assailed us, Reckoning on our passive mood ; But at length our patience failed us r Fired is now our Yar>kee blood ! Britain and her saucy minions, Freemen s wrath shall quickly know:. Freedom s bird on sweeping pionions Hurls her vengeance OR the foe t Shade of Wayne \ from blissful regions. Dart a glance of tby keen eye View thy native state s brave legions March to conquer or to die ! Shade of Wayne I thy matchless spirit. Animates ws to be free Tars and soldiers all inherit Thy undaunted bravery. See onr aaval stadard flaring Proudly o r er the mountain wave ; Graced by Biddle, cool and daring. And Decatur, nobly brave ! JAMES BIRD. 417 View again our war-clad freemen, Marshaled on the tented plains ; Prompt to aid our gallant seamen, Break their captive brethren s chains. Freedom s cause we fondly cherish, We ll ne er fill ignoble graves : We will triumph, or we ll perish, For Columbians can t be slaves ! Haste then, comrades, leave each charmer Round our sacred standard join ; Haste ! and buckle on your armor, Form the Pennsylvania Line ! 1813 THE MOURNFUL TRAGEDY OF JAMES BIRD. The ballad of James Bird is one of the most popular of the battle songs to be found in this volume. By whom it was written, I have not been able to learn; nor noth ing more about the unfortunate deserter, than that he belonged to the Bird family of Bedford, Pennsylvania, and that, by one of his relatives, his remains have been removed from the shore of Erie to commingle with the dust of his kindred in the cemetery at Bedford. The stories of Bird and Sergeant Trotter see page 111 are con founded frequently. A burlesque variation of this ballad is in vogue among negro minstrels. Sons of freedom, listen to me ! And, ye daughters, too, give ear ! You a sad and mournful story As ever was told shall hear. Hull, you know, his troops surrendered, And defenceless left the west ; Then our forces quick assembled, The invaders to resist. fIS JAMES BIRBv T Mong the troops that inarched to Erie Were the Kingston volunteers, Captain Thomas them commanded, To protect our west fro a tiers. Tender were the scenes of parting, Mothers wrung their hands and crie<f r 31,-udens wept their swains in secret, Fathers strove their tears to hide. But there s one among the number. Tall and graceful is his mien, Firm hia step, his look undaunted, Scarce a nobler youth was seen ; One sweet kiss he snatched from Mary, Craved his mother s prayers once more, Pressed his father s hand, and left them 7 For Lake Erie s distant shore. Mary tried to say, " Farewell, James, " Waved her hand, but nothing spoke ; "Good-bye, Bird, may Heaven protect you/ From the rest at parting broke. Soon they came where noble Perry Had assembled all his fleet, There the gallant Bird enlisted, Hoping soon the foe to meet. Where is Bird ? the battle rages Is he in the strife or no ? Now the cannons roar tremendous, Dare he meet the hostile foe? Aye, behold him see with Perry In the self-same ship to fight. Though his messmates fall around him, Nothing can his soul affright. But, behold, a ball has struck him, See the crimson current flow, "Leave the deck," exclaimed brave Perry. "No," cried Bird, " I will not go; JAMES BTRB. Here, on deck, I took my station, Ne er will Bird his colors fly ; I ll stand by you, gallant captam, Till we conquer or we die. " Still be fought, though faint and bleeding,, Till our stars and stripes arose, Victory having crowned our efforts, All triumphant o er our foes. And did Bird receive a pension ? Was he to his friends restored ! .No nor never to his bosom, Clasped the maid his heart adored. But there caoae most dreadful tidings. From Lake Erie s distant shore, Better if poor Bird had perished Midst the battle s awful roar^ :< Dearest parents, " said the letter, " This will bring sad news to you ; But do not mourn your first beloved, Though this brings his lust adieu I * I must suffer for deserting From the brig Niagara ; Read this letter, brothers, sisters, Tis the last you ll have from me. Dark and gloomy was the morning Bird was ordered out to die ; Where s the breast not dead to pity, But for him would heave a sigh ? Lo ! he fought so brave on Erie, Freely bled, and nobly dared ; Let his courage plead for mercy, Let his precious life be spared ! See him march, and hear his fetters, Harsh they clank upon the ear ! But his step is firm and manly, For his heart ne er harbored fear. 420 PERRY S VICTORY. See ! he kneels upon his coffiu ! Sure his death can do no good, Spare him hark ! God, they ve shot him, See ! his bosom streams with blood ! Farewell, Bird, farewell forever ; Friends and home he ll see no more, For his mangled corpse lies buried On Lake Erie s distant shore. 1813 PERRY S VICTORY. Ye tars of Columbia, give ear to my story, Who fought with brave Perry, where cannons did roar ; , Your valor has gained you an immortal glory, A fame that shall last until time is no more. Columbian tars are the true sons of Mars, They rake fore and aft, when they fight on the deep ; On the bed of Lake Erie, commanded by Perry, They caused many Britons to take their last sleep. The tenth of September, let us all remember, So long as the globe on her axis rolls round ; Our tars and marines, on Lake Erie were seen, To make the proud flag of Great Britain come down. The van of our fleet, the British to meet, Commanded by Perry, the Lawrence bore down ; Her guns they did roar with such terrific power, That savages trembled at the dreadful sound. The Lawrence sustained a most dreadful fire ; She fought three to one, for two glasses or more ; While Perry, undaunted, did firmly stand by her, The proud foe on her heavy broadsides did pour. PERRV\S VICTORY, 421 Her musts being shattered, her rigging all tattered, Her b IOLRS and her yards being all shut away; And Few left on deck to manage the wreck, Oar hero on board her 11 ) longer could stay. In this situation, the pride of our Ration Sure [leaven had guarded unhurt all the while, While ni my a hero, in liutaining his station, Fell close by his side, and was thrown oil the pile. iiut mark you, aad wonder, when elements thun der, When death and destruction are stalking all round, His flag he did carry on board the Ni gara ; Such valor on record was never yet found. There is one gallant act of our noble commander, While writing my song, I must notice with pride ; While launched in the boat, that carried the stand ard, A ball whistled through her, just close by his side. *Says Perry, " The rascals intend for to drown us, But push on, my brave boys, you never need fear ! " And with his own coat he plugged up the boat, And through fire and sulphur away he did steer. The famed Ni gara, now proud of her Perry, Displayed all her banners in gallant array ; And twenty-five guns on her deck she did carry, Which soon put an end to this bloody affray ; The rear of our fleet was brought up complete, The signal was given to break through the line ; While starboard and larboard, and from every quarter, The lamps of Columbia did gloriously shine. The bold British Lion roared out his last thunder. When Perry attacked him close in the rear ; 422 PERRY S VICTORY. Columbia s eagle soon made him crouch under, And roar out for quarter, as soon you shall hear. Oh, had you been there, I now do declare, You d have seen such a sight ane ers you d seen before ; Six red bloody flags, that no longer could wag, All lay at the feet of our brave commodore. Brave Elliot, whose valor must now be recorded. On board the Ni gara so well played his part, His gallant assistance to Perry afforded, We ll place him the second on Lake Erie s chart. In the midst of the battle, when guns they did rattle, The Lawrence a wreck, and the men most all slain ; Away he did steer, and brought up the rear, And by this manoeuvre the victory was gained. Oh, had you but seen those noble commanders Embracing each other when the conflict was o er ; And viewing all those invincible standards, That never had yielded to any before. Says Perry, " Brave Elliot, give me your hand, sir ; This day we have gained an immortal renown ; So long as Columbians Lake Erie command, sir, Let brave Captain Elliot with laurels be crowned. " Great Britain may boast of her conquering heroes, Her Rodneys, her Nelsons, and all the whole crew ; But none in their glory have told such a story, Nor boasted such feats as Columbians do. The whole British fleet was captured complete, Not one single vessel from us got away ; And prisoners some hundreds, Columbians won dered, To see them all anchored and moored in our bay. THE VICTORY ON LAKE ERIE. 423 May Heaven still smile on the shades of our heroes Who fought in that conflict their country to save, And check the proud spirit of those murdering bravoes, That wish to divide us and make us all slaves. Columbians sing, and make the woods ring, We ll toast those bave heroes by sea and by land; While Britons drink Sherry, Columbians, Perry, We ll toast him about with a full glass in hand. THE VICTORY ON LAKE ERIE. Forever remembered be the gallant story, How valiant Perry with Columbia s crew, With love of country fired, and love of glory, Proud Britain s host on Erie s lake o orthrew. He, like her rocky banks, Amidst his slaughtered ranks Stood firm, no fear could shake his soul ; Though streams of blood Bushed like a flood, And thunders shook from pole to pole. Hark ! now the cannons with impetuous roar, Deal dread destruction from the unequal foe, The spirit of the lake sought refuge on the shore, And for the fallen brave joined in Columbia s woe. And now, the Lawrence lost, On Erie s bosom tossed, His flag alone the hero saves ; As thick as hail Their shot assail, Still round his head his flag he waves. On the Niagara s deck now see him bound ! Now mid the astonished foe his course he steers, Now dying groans now victory s shouts resound ! Now panic fear amidst their ranks appears ! 424 THE HERO OF ERIE, And now Columbia s son The gallant fight has won j For see, the British lion cowers ; Huzza I huzza ! All hail the day ! " We have met the enemy, and they are ours f " THE HERO OF ERIE. To Columbia s loud call my dear William re sponded, And to my fond arms bade a tender adieu, In hope to return with the laurels of glory, And reap all the fruits of affection so true. While Fortune, who laughs at the purpose of mortals, Had said that I ne er should behold him again; In the cold, silent grave, my sweet William, neglected, Lies far from his love, among heaps of the slain. When bravely he fell, in the front of the battle. Contending with Britons on Erie s dark wave, ! had I been there to expire with my lover, Not lived thus a victim of woe for the brave. Yet cease, my poor, widowed heart, from thy wild sorrow, A few years, at most, shall thy William restore; In the pure land of heroes with transport thou lt join him, Where war and where death shall divide us no more. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY BERKELEY Return to desk from which borrowed. This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 20 MAY 4 1948 DEC 21953 JAN 12 1951 LIBRARY USE AUG 5 CIRCULATION RECEIVED C NLY IE 85 UEPT LD 21-100m-9, 47(A5702sl6)476 YB 7742k THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY