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THE

LIFE AND ADYENTURES

OF

WILBURN WATERS,
The Famous Hunter and Trapper
of White Top Mountain;
EMBRACING
EARLY HISTORY OF SOUTHWESTERN VIRGINIA
Sufferings of the Pioneers, etc., etc.

By CHARLES B. COALE,
Fob TTTTRTT-TBrRTCTr. YEARS Editos OF THE Abinodon Vibgisiak.

RICHMOND:
G. W. GARY & CO., STEAM BOOK AND .TOB PRINTERS.
18T8.

Entered according to act of Congress, In the year 1878, by Chakles B. Coale,
in the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.

PREFACE.

This book, except that portion of it illustra
ting the life and adventures of Wilburn Waters,
the great hermit hunter and trapper, comprises
a series of articles written for a weekly news
paper, partly for pastime, and partly to preserve
for the use of the future historian a few facts
connected with the early settlement of South
western Virginia, and which otherwise might
have been lost. These facts, together with at
tempted descriptions of various localities, and
all that the book contains, have the merit at
least of being true. Being thus hastily thrown
together, without revision or systematic arrange
ment, the author's only apology is, that it re
appears in this form at the urgent solicitation
of a great number of persons who read the
articles as they appeared in the "Abingdon Vir
ginian," and who thought them worthy of pres
ervation.

vm PREFACE.
With no further apology or explanation, this
little volume of "multifarious small things" is
thrown into the tide of current literature, not
without, hope that it may afford a few hours'
pleasant pastime at the fireside of the moun
taineer, and some of its facts form the nucleus of
a much more comprehensive work by an abler
pen, embodying the history of our own beauti
ful Southwestern Virginia.

CONTENTS,

CHAPTER I.
DESCRIPTION OP WHITE TOP MOUNTAIN, NEAR WHICH,
FORTY-FIVE YEARS AGK), WILBURN WATERS SELECTED
THE SPOT POR HIS CABIN, AND WHERE, EXCEPT AT
SHORT INTERVALS, HE HAS EVER SINCE RESIDED, - 17
CHAPTER II.
BIRTH, PARENTAGE, NATIVITY AND EARLY ORPHANAGE
OP WILBURN WATERS, - 24
CHAPTER III.
THE INDIAN NATURE DEVELOPED — LYING OUT THREE
MONTHS— FIRST SCHOOLING — HIS GREAT STRENGTH
AND- ACTIVITY, - - 31
CHAPTER IV.
HIS FIRST WOLF-HUNTING, - - - 36
CHAPTER V.
ADVENTURE WITH A WOUNDED BUCK, - . 42
CHAPTER VI.
EXPERIENCE AT A CAMP-MEETING WITH A NEW HAT, - 49

X CONTENTS.
CHAPTER VII.
IN A CLOSE PLACE WITH A LARGE WOUNDED BEAR, - 53
chapter" VIII.
AN EXCITING WOLF-HUNT IN BLACK MOUNTAIN, - 58
CHAPTER IX.
FOUR BEARS IN ONE TREE, 64
CHAPTER X.
FIGHT WITH A BEAR ON THE BRINK OF A PRECIPICE, - 69
CHAPTER XI.
A BEAR HUNT IN THE IRON MOUNTAIN, - - 73
CHAPTER XII.
A-N ADVENTURE WITH A MAD WOLF, - 78
CHAPTER XIII.
ADVENTURE WITH A FOUR-PRONGED BUCK IN THE
HOLSTON, - - - 83
CHAPTER XIV.
ANOTHER ADVENTURE WITH A WOUNDED BUCK, . . 89
CHAPTER XV.
AMUSING ADVENTURES WITH BEARS, - - . 93

CONTENTS. XI
CHAPTER XVI.
FIRST WHITE SETTLER IN SOUTHWESTERN VIRGINIA, 97
CHAPTER XVII.
THE ABINGDON OF MODERN TIMES, - - 103
CHAPTER XVIII.
A BRIEF HISTORY OF WASHINGTON COUNTY, ITS ORGAN
IZATION, ETC., - - - 109
CHAPTER XIX.
GENERAL CAMPBELL'S ADVENTURE WITH A DARING
TORY, - - - 115
CHAPTER XX.
SOUTHWESTERN VIRGINIA — ITS TOPOGRAPHY AND RE
SOURCES, - - - - 119
CHAPTER XXI.
THE SOILS OF WASHINGTON COUNTY — PRODUCTS — ANCIENT
AND^MODERN MODE OF FARMING, . - - 124
CHAPTER XXII.
A BRIEF HISTORY OF THE SALTWORKS OF SOUTHWESTERN
VIRGINIA — THEIR MANAGEMENT, REVENUES, ETC., - 129
CHAPTER XXIII.
A JAUNT INTO TAZEWPa^L COUNTY, WITH A DESCRIPTION
OF SOME OF ITS ROMANTIC SCENES AND NATURAL
CURIOSITIES, - - . - - . - 136

xu CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XXIV.
AN INDIAN INCURSION AT ABINGDON, AND INCIDENTS IN
PIONEER LIFE, ' 147"
CHAPTER xxv.
A RACE FOR LIFE— INDIAN DEPREDATIONS ON THE HOL
STON, - 152
CHAPTER XXVI.
A THRILLING NARRATIVE OF KATY SAGE, THE LOST CHILD
OP GRAYSON, - 158
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE ABDUCTOR OF KATY SAGE — THB HORSE-THIEF'S RE
VENGE, 16a
CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE PIONEERS OF CASTLE'S WOODS, AND TROUBLES WITH
THE INDIANS, - 166
CHAPTER XXIX.
TROUBLES OP THE EARLY SETTLERS, - - 171
CHAPTER XXX.
THE BATTLE OF LONG ISLAND FLATS, - 177
CHAPTER XXXI.
REMARKABLE INCIDENTS IN PIONEER LIFE, - 183
CHAPTER XXXII.
A SINGULAR INCIDENT IN THE LIFE OF HON. WILLIAM 0.
PRESTON, - - - . 187

CONTENTS. XIII
CHAPTER XXXIII.
MASSACRE AND CAPTIVITY OF THE PIONEERS OF ABB'S
VALLEY, - - - . . _ 193
CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE MASSACRE OF ARCHIBALD SCOTT AND HIS CHILDREN,
AND THE CAPTIVITY OF HIS WIFE, - - - 203
CHAPTER XXXV.
BRIEF HISTORY OF TWO COLLEGES, - _ _ . 205
CHAPTER XXXVI.
INCIDENTS OF THE WAR, - - - 213
CHAPTER XXXVII.
THE STREAMS AND SPRINGS OP WASHINGTON COUNTY, - 219
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
STORY OP A HAUNTED BALL EOOM, . . - - - 225
CHAPTER XXXIX.
MONTICELLO AND ITS SURROUNDINGS, - - 234
CHAPTER XL.
BARON TEU BEUF, THB FRENCH NOBLEMAN WHO SETTLED
IN RUSSELL COUNTY NEAR THB CLOSE OF THE LAST
CENTURY, -_*.-.. 240
CHAPTER XLI.
T'HE NATURAL BRIDGE OF SCOTT, ----- 243

XIV CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XLII.
BRIEF HISTORY OF RELIGIOUS ORGANIZATIONS IN SOUTH
WESTERN VIRGINIA, AND THE FIRST MINISTERS —
MEMOIRS OF REV. CHARLES CUMMINGS, - 246:
CHAPTER XLIIL
THE INTRODUCTION OF METHODISM INTO SOUTHWESTERN
VIRGINIA, WITH THE NAMES OF THE FIEST MINISTERS
OF THAT DENOMINATION, 251
CHAPTER XLIV.
THE FIRST BAPTIST CHURCH IN THB HOLSTON SETTLE
MENTS, AND ITS PIONEER MINISTERS, - - 256
CHAPTER XLV.
BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF CANBY VALLEY, - - - 259
CHAPTER XLVI.
HISTORY OF THE WEEPING WILLOW, - - 263'.

WILBURN WATERS.

CHAPTER I.
DESCRIPTION OF WHITB TOP MOUNTAIN, NEAR WHICH, FORTY-
FIVE YEARS AGO, WILBURN WATERS SELECTED THB SPOT
FOR HIS CABIN, AND WHERE, EXCEPT AT SHORT INTERVALS,
HE HAS EVER SINCE RESIDED.
Before entering upon a narrative of the life and adven
tures of the remarkable man who is to be the subject of
the following pages, it is proper that the writer should
give his readers some idea of White Top Mountain, near
which, when about twenty years of age, Wilburn Waters
selected the spot for his future home.
This is a peak in the Appalachian range, here more
familiarly known by the local name of Iron Mountain,
and near the point where the three States of Virginia,
North Carolina and Tennessee all unite at a common
corner. It is about twenty miles from Abingdon the way
the crow flies, though perhaps thirty by the intricate bridle-
pathSj through intervening mountains, by which it is ap
proached. Until within a few years, comparatively, owing
to its inaccessibility, it was almost in its primitive state,
and visited only by hunters and trappers, and here and
there a' "squatter," who may have fled to its fastnesses to
evade those penal enactments which a certain class of men
2

18 WILBURN WATEES.
in most communities deem oppressive. It is some 5,000
feet high from base to summit, and upwards of 6,000 feet
above the level of the sea. Its summit is a vast field, com
prising from 300 to 500 acres, without a tree or shrub, and
covered with a luxuriant growth of wild grass, resembling
that of our Northwestern prairies, which is highly nutri
tious, and cropped with insatiable avidity by vast herds of
stock, driven there from the neighboring settlements to
graze and fatten. During the months of May and June,
this field, as well as a large portion of the wooded part of
the mountain, is gorgeously carpeted with wild flowers of
every imaginable hue, and so fragrant that their perfume
is often wafted a considerable distance on the wings of the
wind, which sometimes sweeps across the broad field like
the dying thrpes of a hurricane, with fitful shrieks of wild
and melancholy music.
Bordering this natural field are great numbers of native
gooseberry and currant bushes, which yield their acrid
fruits in never-failing abundance, and the wild leopard-
lily, springing from its rocky bed, sways to and fro, and
scatters its rich perfume as the blast sweeps by. Upon the
very summit, various springs of ice-cold water gush from
the rocks and leap down the declivities, babbling their
wild music as they disappear among magnificent rhodo
dendrons and the dazzling crimson of the Indian pink.
These waters are so pure and light that they never oppress,
no matter how freely the thirsty visitor may quaff them.
The field above referred to is bordered by a very singu
lar as well as very beautiful growth of timber, known in
that region by the name of Lashorn. ^ome of these trees

WILBUEN WATEES. 19
grow to an immense height, but generally are not more
than from thirty to fifty feet high, and, what is very re
markable, where not crowded they are perfectly flat on top,
spreading out to a diameter of from fifteen to thirty feet.
It is a species of and very much resembles Norway Spruce,
an ornamental tree often found in the yards of our more
elegant city residences. The lashorn of White Top is
peculiar to that locality, and of the thousands that have
been transplanted, not one has ever been known to grow,
though some have lived several years. The limbs at the
top whe^-e they spread out are so tenacious and inflexible,
and so closely interlaced, that the writer has seen as many
as twenty persons standing and stepping about upon the
top of the same tree at the same time. It is very easy to
ascend and descend, as the limbs usually begin at the
ground, and being cut off about a foot from the trunk, a
very convenient "Indian ladder" is formed, and then a
hole being cut through the foliage in the centre of the top,
it is not difficult for even a lady to ascend and step out
upon the vernal platform. Where the forest of this sin
gular and beautiful growth is dense, there is no under
growth, the trees limbless to the height of forty or fifty
feet, the tops intermingling and forming a canopy the sun
can scarcely penetrate, and the earth covered with a carpet
ing of lichen moss, which feels to the tread as soft and
elastic as a sponge. During the summer months, these
trees are literally alive with snow birds, the little creatures
congregating here in millions to build their habitations
and rear their young.
Notwithstanding the romantic beauty of this grand eie-

20 WILBUEN WATEES.
vation, and the exhilarating effects of the highly rarified
atmosphere upon the system, hundreds and thousands of
people have lived and died within sight of it without ever
having paid it a visit. The reason for this has been the
difficulty of access, want of accommodations in the vicinity,
and the mere cattle-paths by which it is approached through
deep and intricate gorges, over steep foot-hills, and through
almost impenetrable laurel jungles, sometimes infested by
bears, wolves, wild-cats and rattlesnakes. There are but
few of these "varmints" there now, except the latter,
Wilburn having nearly exterminated them. Rattlesnakes,
however, are still abundant, though settlers are rarely
bitten. The view from the summit of White Top is grand be
yond description or even conception. Looking toward the
south, you have within the scope of vision, stretching away
from east to west, the Blue Ridge range, which, in the dim
distance, looks like an azure band bordering the horizon,
¦with here and there a tall peak hiding its head in the
clouds. To the east, mountain piled upon mountain meets
the view, their gentler slopes in places dotted with "clear
ings," and a column of smoke, here ascending and there
laying in long folds along the mountain side, denoting the
rude habitation of the ruder "squatter." Looking toward
the north, you have the grand old Cumberland range, the
barrier that divides the "Dark and Bloody Ground" from
the Old Dominion, as if swelling up from an ocean of
green, and struggling to lift itself above the vapor that
hangs lazily upon its sides. To the west, the view, though
less imposing, is not less beautiful. You have before you

WILBUEN WATEES. 21
the broad Valley of Holston, which, although diversified
with hill and dale, bold promontories and pine-clad ridges,
still, from the altitude from which you look out upon it,
it has the appearance of a vast sea dotted with picturesque
islands. In the distance, the spires and tin roofs of the
town of Abingdon glisten in the sunlight, large planta
tions look like blankets spread out in the forest, and at
intervals, as it dashes out from behind a bluff, or winds its
way through a green pasture, may the White Top Fork of
Laurel be seen, like a serpentine thread of silver, its spark
ling waters shimmering like diamonds among the foliage
and wild-flowers upon its banks.
The writer of this has enjoyed the luxury of many a
magnificent scene in his wanderings, but never has seen
that from the summit of White Top excelled, or even
equaled. He was there on one occasion when a storm
came riding on the blast more than a thousand feet below
where a company of gentlemen were standing. The whole
valley was shrouded as with a pall. The deeptoned
thunder bellowed below, preceded by brilliant flashes of
lightning, illuminating the dark bosom of the cloud. The
scene was awfully grand, and so far transcends the power
of mortal description, that he would not dare attempt it.
It was near the base of this mountain, upwards of forty-
four years ago, in an obscure *'cove," where the rays of
the sun are partially shut out by the dense foliage of a
grove of giant sugar -maples, that Wilburn Waters, then
about twenty years of age, pitched his lonely tent and
lighted his first camp-fire. He chose this spot for several
reasons — first, because the foot of man rarely polluted the

22 WILBUEN WATEES.
virgin soil; second, because it was the' covert of wild ani
mals in cold and stormy weather; and third, because a
bright and bubbling spring of pure cold water leaps from
the rocks and dashes off singing its wild lullaby among
gorgeous flowers and the songs of birds of strange and
brilliant plumage.
Wilburn is one-fourth Indian — what is called a quar-
teroon. For some reason he has never given, except his
fondness for solitude and hunting, he sought and settled
the obscure spot in which he has resided so many years,
and still thinks he would be crowded to suffocation were
a family to settle within sight or hearing of him. The
writer of this, soon after hearing of the hermit-hunter, now
more than twenty-five years ago, found his way into the
mountains and sought him out. When he found him, he
was eating his morning meal upon a log, — which consisted
of corn cake, bear-meat and wild honey, and water from
the spring^his two savage bear-dogs meanwhile standing
sentinel, awaiting his word for action. We broke bread
together, and from that day to this, if the writer has a
friend upon whom he could rely in any emergency, that
friend is Wilburn Waters, the great hermit-hunter of
White Top Mountain.
Although sixty-odd years of age, he is still active and
athletic, still devoted to hunting, still unerring in his aim,
and was, when I commenced writing these pages in March,
1874, on a wolf hunt in the Alleghanies, which he expected
to be the most extensive of his long career in that line, an
account of which will probably be included in this little
book. Whenever he finds the "sign" of a bear, wolf, or

WILBUEN WATEES. 23
any other animal, he never loses the trail, although he may
have to follow it from mountain to mountain for days to
gether and to great distances, and is almost as sure of his
game as if he had it. He is very pious, and will have no
intercourse with a swearer or Sabbath-breaker. His motto
is, "If a man has neither fear of nor respect for his Maker,
he is a dangerous companion for his fellow-man, and should
be shunned by all who love the Lord and honor His in
stitutions."

CHAPTER n.
BIRTH, PARENTAGE, NATIVITY AND EARLY ORPHANAGE OE
WILBURN WATERS.
Wilburn Waters was born on what is called Ready's
river, a branch of the Yadkin, in Wilkes county. North
Carolina, on the 20th day of November, 1812. From the
best information that can now be had, his father, John P.
Waters, was a French Huguenot, who emigrated to Amer
ica in early life, about the beginning of the present century,
and settled in South Carolina. He was a man of some
education and liberal acquirements, of strong prejudices
and passions, restless, reckless and fond of adventure.
Being remarkably stout, fearless and passionate, he was
considered dangerous when excited or laboring under a
sense of injury, and was supposed by those with whom he
communicated most freely, to have been a refugee from
South Carolina, if not from France, from some cause he
never revealed to others. He settled down, without any
apparent calling, among the simple and obscure people on
Ready's river, where, after a time, he married his wife, the
mother of Wilburn, who was a half-breed Catawba Indian.
From what little history we have, of the Catawbas, they
were a small portion of the tribe that inhabited Roanoke
Island when Lord Raleigh took possession of it about the
middle of the sixteenth century, and being dissatisfied with
the encroachments and exactions of their new and power-

WILBUEN WATEES. 25
ful neighbors, they sought a new home among the moun
tains on the western boundary of the colony, where game
was abundant, and the clear, bold streams afforded a plen
tiful supply of trout and other excellent varieties of fish.
It is not known whether or not there were other Indians
there at the time, but they had occupied their quiet retreat
but a few years before the whites began to settle near and
even among them, and at the time John P. Waters found
a home among them they were mostly half-breeds and
quarteroons, with very few full-bloods, and the latter the
aged members of the community. It is said they origi
nally bore the name of Chowans, but after finding their way
into the mountains they took the name of Catawba, the
name by which one of the principal streams in that region
was known.
Wilburn's mother was one of these people, and was, as
before stated, a half-breed. He is, therefore, what is termed
a quarteroon. She was said to have been very handsome,
tall and straight, with nearly all the characteristics of a
full Indian, except that she was unusually amiable in her
disposition, and fond of quiet, domestic life. She had
some education, was pious and affectionate, and was very
anxious that her children should have pious instruction
and the best education their limited means and opportu
nities would allow. She was the mother of five children —
four sons and one daughter — of whom Wilburn was the
youngest. She died when he was between two„and three
years old, and the only recollection he has of her is, that
she had long, glossy black hair, which she wore loose, and
reached nearly to the floor when she stood erect. She died

26 WILBUEN WATEES.
young, and her death was a terrible blow to her husband,
who was warmly attached to her, and whose turbulent
nature she could control with a word. Notwithstanding
this attachment, and his apparently unsubdued grief, he
soon married another woman, left the community and his
children among their relatives, and was never after heard
from by his family.
Wilburn's first realization of the loss of his parents, and
a circumstance that seems to have been burnt into his
memory by bitter tears, was in being carried away on a
horse by a stranger, and adopted into a white family seve
ral miles away from the little circle he had known as
kindred and friends. Of course the children — even the
oldest not being able to provide for himself — became sepa
rated, and in the providence of God were never re- united
as one family again.
Soon after his father's second marriage and disappear
ance from the neighborhood, Wilburn, then about three
years old, was taken to the house of Mr. Frank Flournoy,
on Ready's river, in Wilkes county, where he remained
between two and three years. Here, when between four
and five years old, he gave the first evidence of his natural
fondness for daring and adventure. Following some ladies
out one Sunday afternoon to the bank of the river, where
there was a shelving rock reachii;g down into the water at
a very deep and rapid place in the stream, he was greatly
interested in seeing them each in turn slide down the face
of the rock as near to the edge of the water as possible
without getting in, and where the rock was so steep they
could -not get back without help. Refusing to permit him

WILBUEN WATEES. 27
to try the experiment, he determined to dodge them on
their return to the house, go back to the stream, and see if
he couldn't get farther down on the rock than any of them
had gone and get back without aid. He carried out his
plans. Jet himself down the steep face of the rock to the
very edge of the water by inserting . his fingers in the
crevices, and then discovered that it was impossible to get
back. Young as he was, he took in the situation at a
moment, and governed himself accordingly. Still cling
ing to the rock, with his hold weakening every moment,
and being aware that he was bound to drop in, he noticed
which way the currant ran, and that some willows just
below the rock shot out their roots on the bottom of the
stream, he determined to let all holds go, drop to the bot
tom, and then make his way as fast as possible on all-fours
to the roots and work himself out. His plan succeeded,
and he returned to the house perfectly elated that he had
performed a feat that none of the young ladies had accom
plished. After remaining with Mr. Flournoy till he was nearly
five years old, he was apprenticed to a saddler by the name
of John Ernest, high upon tbe Yadkin, where he found
his first bee-tree, cut it down and got a gallon of honey.
Here, too, he got his first whipping for taking a whole day
to go an errand not requiring more than half an hour.
Knowing that he deserved it, he submitted to the chastise
ment without complaint, though it was very mortifying to
his pride, and made him wonder why it was that one per
son should have the right to punish another.
At the expiration of the first year> Ernest sold his time

28 WILBUEN WATEES.
to Nelson AUoway, sheriff of Wilkes county, for $30.
Here he remained eleven years, or till he was about seven
teen years old. When about twelve, he had his first adven
ture with a bear — a pet, chained to a stake. It was at the
house of a neighbor, and he went to it when no one was
about, and was feeding it chinquapins. While engaged in
this, the bear became very friendly, and laid one paw upon
his shoulder. Feeling complimented by this manifesta
tion of so much affection, he kept feeding the animal,
which became still more affectionate by placing the other
forepaw on his other shoulder. This, he thought, was re
markably kind, but in a moment he was brought to a sense
of his danger by the bear clapping both of its hind feet
upon his knees. He now found himself in bruin's poWer,
and saw in a moment that there was but one way of escape
from a hug that didn't exactly comport with his sense of
propriety. He formed his plan in a moment, which was to
slowly and carelessly recede till the chain became tight,
and then to spring off suddenly, tearing himself loose.
He did so, leaving part of his clothing in possession of
the bear, which became terribly enraged at his escape.
About this time he had his first adventures with a deer,
a copper-head snake and a mad dog. Being on the river
bank one morning, he saw a deer that had been run down
by dogs lying in the bushes near the edge of the stream.
Seeing that it was not disposed to move at his approach,
he took a cord from his pocket and tied it around one of
its hind legs, when the deer gave a sudden flirt, and
striking Wilburn with both hind feet, plunged him into
the middle of the stream, nearly stripping his clothes from

WILBUEN WATEES. 29
his body and lascerating his person. He then called up a
dog and caught and killed the animal, as much safer and
quicker than attempting to lead it home with a cord.
Being bitten on the ankle by a copper-head, he was dis
abled six weeks, and was only relieved by the application
of a chicken cut open and the warm insides applied to the
wound, which he still regards as a sovereign remedy.
During this year, or when he was about thirteen, he was
out in the field one day, and saw a strange dog passing
near him, which he called and tried to coax to him. The
dog passed on without noticing him, and bit a horse and a
hog near by. In a little while several men passed along
in pursuit, and informed him that the dog was mad. He
considered his escape a special providence. '
He became excessively fond of rabbit-hunting and fish
ing, and followed one or the other pursuit nearly every
Sabbath. He had but little respect for religion at that
time, as the family he lived with were very strict on Sun
day and very profane through the week. Seeing a very
large yellow-jackets' nest, a man told him he could easily
whip it out, as they couldn't sting in that time of the
moon. He undertook the job and soon found his pants
and hair full of the little torments, and didn't get rid of
them till he ran to the river and dived. He has never
since had much faith in moon signs.
Wilburn had a great many little adventures while in
his early teens, showing his recklessness and presence of
mind in extricating himself. For instance, he several
times became lost in the mountains, but discovered by ex
perience that by taking the opposite direction to that he

30 WILBUEN WATEES.
believed to be, or rather seemed to be right, he always
found himself without difficulty. When about fifteen, he
offered up his first prayer. He had climbed a very large
blackoak after squirrels. Getting some ten feet above the
first limb, which was sixty or seventy feet from the ground,
he found it very difficult and dangerous to get back. He
fastened his fingers in the bark, but could get no purchase
for his legs or feet. He then held on with his hands and
prayed to the Lord for assistance. Then, making another
effort, his legs took hold and he got down safely. He is
still satisfied the Lord heard his prayer and relieved him.

CHAPTER HL
THE INDIAN NATURE DEVELOPED — LYING OUT THREE MONTHS —
FIRST SCHOOLING— HIS GREAT STRENGTH AND ACTIVITY.
Wilburn, now in his seventeenth year, begins to show
the spirit of retaliation and vindictiveness of the Indian.
Mr. AUoway having chastised him for some trivial offence,
with the promise of repeating it the following morning,
he sharpened his tomahawk and knife and ran fifteen miles
to a mountain, near where his oldest brother lived, where
he laid out three months, sometimes coming down to his
brother's cabin in the night. His brother begged him to
return and finish out his time, and Mr. AUoway proclaimed
so that he got to hear it, that if he would return and stay
till he was of age he would give him twelve mouths'
schooling, and a horse, saddle and bridle. He would listen
to no proposition, but when he heard that AUoway was
bunting for him, and sometimes saw him from his moun
tain perch riding ariiong the settlers in search of him, he
determined that he would never be taken alive, and that
he would kill any one who attempted to arrest him.
After spending three months in the mountaid, he left
there, and went to live with a man by the name of John
Cox, in Ashe, now Alleghany county. Here he remained
only about a year, the Indian propensity at retaliation
making it necessary for him to change quarters. He set
some traps near the barn, and caught a number of part-

32 WILBUEN WATEES.
ridges one afternoon. As Mr. Cox, who was absent, was
very fond of birds, Wilburn put four of them away to save
for him. In the morning they had disappeared, and some
one of the family having told a hired woman that Wilburn
accused her of eating them, which he disclaimed, she flew
into a violent rage, and declared that he should catch no
more birds, as she would go right straight and destroy his
traps. She started to do so, and as the traps were within
view from an upper window in the room where the woman
slept, and where she had a bran new feather-bed of her
own, he went up there to watch her motions. There were
four traps, and as she approached the first she destroyed it,
As soon as he saw this, he deliberately took out his knife
and split the tick of her own bed half-way along. She
then demolished a second trap, and he finished that side of
the tick with his knife. As the third trap was scattered,
half the other side of the tick had a slit in it, and as
the fourth and last trap shared the fate of the others, the
last slit was made in the tick and the bed was in two pieces.
Having finished the traps, she returned to the house still
mad with passion, and said to Wilburn: "Now go and fix
up your traps if you want them." " All right," said he,
" and if you want to sleep on your new bed to-night, you
had better go up to your room and fix it." Suspecting
something wrong from his countenance and manner, she
ran upstairs and found the feathers all over the floor and
the tick in two pieces. This made the house too hot forliim.
and he had to leave. Having had no education or good
counsel up to this time, he felt his great need of both, and
determined to go to his oldest brother, William P. Waters

WILBUEN WATEES. 33
for advice and direction, who was keeping a school at a
place called Whiteoak Grove, in Wilkes. He carried out
his determination, was kindly received by his brother, taken
into the school, where he continued six months, paying his
board at a. neighboring house by working nights and morn
ings and Saturdays. While going to school he cut down
and split up two very large hickory trees for a flax and
¦cotton shirt.
When the school term was out he hired himself to a man
by the name of Hanks, on Elkin, in Wilkes, at twenty-five
cents per day. One afternoon Hanks and another man
proposed to go to a deep hole in the creek to bathe, and in
vited Wilburn to go with them for the purpose of having
some sport at his expense. He discovered this from their
talk and manceuvres, and determined to keep even with
them if he could. They were under the impression that
he couldn't swim, and intended to amuse themselves with
him in deep water. When the other man got in the water
Hanks ordered Wilburn to strip off and jump in, telling
him the man in the water would not let him drown, but
would learn him to swim. Pretending to be willing to
comply, he prepared himself, and just as Hanks approached
to push him off the bank into the water, he suddenly
caught him (Hanks) by the ankles and tossed him over his
head backward into the middle of the stream, with his hat,
boots and all his clothes on. Wilburn then quietly dressed
himself and walked back to the house. Hanks taking it all
. in good part, or at least saying nothing about it.
Hanks was himself a laborer, and a very poor man, and
hired Wilburn, as the latter discovered, at twenty-five
3

34 WILBUEN WATEES.
cents per day for the purpose of hiring him out at fifty.
thus making a quarter clear per diem. So the next day
after the adventure in the creek, Hanks and WUburn went
to work for Thomas Bryant in the same neighborhood,
where Hanks was to receive a dollar per day for the two.
Mr. Bryant, thinking this not exactly fair, said to WUburn :
"Why work for Hanks, he will never pay you anything,
but come and work for me and I will pay you something."
This suited Wilburn's views of things, so he quit Hanks
and went to live with Bryant, particularly, as Ift said, they
lived light at the house of Hanks, while there was always
plenty at the house of Bryant, and he was fond of good
living. He remained with Mr. Bryant two years, was
kindly treated, had wholesome moral instruction, and was
promptly and liberally paid for his labor.
Shortly after going there to live, there was a corn-shuck
ing and quilting at Mr. Bryant's, which drew together a
large number of the men and women of the neighborhood.
After the men had come to the house, Mr. Bryant directed
Wilburn to chop and carry in some wood. He chopped
it, and was about to carry in a log first to put on behind,
when 0IV5 of the men sat down on it. Wilburn asked him
to get up as they were in a hurry in the house for a fire,
when the man rose and demanded a scuffle. Wilburn,
Indian-like, had no disposition for that sort of amusement,
and took it in solid earnest. Finding the man disposed to
keep it up, he krew back and knocked him some twelve
or fifteen feet, the man turning some two or three somer
saults before he stopped. This exasperated the men, and
they determined to so annoy him after supper as to make

WILBUEN WATEES. 35
him understand a joke. Accordingly they got out into the
yard and commenced playing with each other in such a
rough way as to induce Wilburn, in the simplicity of his
nature, to imagine that they were fighting. The plan suc
ceeded, and when he got among them first one and then
another would thump him in the back. By this time he
discovered that instead of fighting each other they were
fighting him, as he thought, and concluded that it was
about time to go to work in self-defence, and in less than
a minute he knocked several of them down, hurting one
or two quite badly. This was the second time he had de
veloped the Indian, and he informed the writer that it was
on that occasion he discovered for the first time his great
strength and activity, though then under eighteen years of
age. Sometime after this, or before he was nineteen, he went
to live with Rev. Morgan Bryant, brother of Thomas, in
Ashe county. North Carolina. Here commenced his career
as a hunter of the laiger game, a narrative of his exploits
and wonderful adventures in which will be commenced
in the next chapter.

CHAPTER IV.
HIS FIRST WOLF-HUNTING.
When Wilburn commenced shooting with a rifle he was
very awkward and unsuccessful, missing about as often as
he hit. Perseverance and a determination to excel, how
ever, soon made him very expeit, and it was not a great
while before he could hit an object the size of the bullet
that fitted his gun as far as he could see it, and he can do
so yet although sixty-five years of age, always taking sight
with both eyes wide open. The secret of his great success
in hunting has been his wonderful eye-sight, instinct in
following a trail, and the cat-like stealthiness with which
he can approach his game.
Soon after going to live with Morgan Bryant, he com
menced his career in the woods by hunting wild turkeys, •
at which he was very successful, and rarely failed to secure
one or more where the most experienced hunters in that
region failed to find them. When hunting in company
with others, he would nearly always get as many as all the
rest together. He soon became noted as a turkey-hunter,
and had no rival in the mountains of Ashe.
We now, after leaving out many adventures with deer,
catamounts, &c., come to his first wolf-hunt, or rather his
first wolf-trapping. Mr. Bryant himself, as well as several
of his neighbors, were old and experienced wolf-hunters,
but notwithstanding this .there was an old male wolf in

WILBUEN WATEES. 37
the settlement that had been living on the stock of the
farmers for several years, and every plan they had devised
to capture him had failed. Early one morning, Mr. Bry
ant, in crossing a mountain where there was an old wagon-
road, found six of his sheep that had been slaughtered the
previous night by this old enemy. He at once returned
to the house and directed Wilburn to take the ox-cart up
and bring the dead sheep down and skin them. Wilburn,
with his innate love of adventure asserting itself, proposed
that if he would let him have the dead sheep for bait he
would catch the wolf. Mr. Bryant ridiculed the idea, that
he, a young and inexperienced boy, who had never even
seen a wolf, and had no knowledge of the habits of the
cunning animal, should undertake to capture him, when
the most experienced and daring hunters in that mountain
range had failed and long since given up the job as hope^
less. Wilburn, however, confident of his ability to cir
cumvent and capture the old depredator, that now prowled
about with impunity, was so importunate that Mr. Bryant
finally consented that he might use the sheep for. that pur
pose, and also to use one of his traps. So he yoked up the
oxen at once and started, and before night he had the dead
sheep hauled to a convenient place, quartered them, and
placed the pieces down the side of the mountain toward
a small stream that was spanned by a fallen tree, which
his Indian instinct doubtless led him .to believe would be
a good place for 'wolves to cross. He carried the last
quarter across' this log, and suspended it under the log and
above the surface of the water with a hickory withe; then,
by removing the stones and moss immediately under it in

38 WILBUEN WATEES.
the stream, he scraped out a place in the sand and fitted
his trap in it, and then nicely covered it with the sand and
moss, and left it to take its chance.
Being impatient, and almost absolutely certain that he
would catch the wolf, he returned in a day or two, but
none of the bait had been disturbed. In a few more days
he returned again, and found all the bait gone except the
piece su.spended over the trap. He was now pretty sure
of his game the next morning, and on returning found the
bait undisturbed, but the trap was gone. (For the infor
mation of those who are unacquainted with the manner of
trapping for wolves, it may not be amiss to state that a
large steel -trap is used, with a chain attached four or five
feet long, with a triple hook or grapnel at the end. The
trap is never made fast to any thing stationary, as the wolf,
if he cannot get away with it, will gnaw off his limb and
escape. Nor is a trap ever baited, but carefully concealed
in a place where it is supposed a wolf will travel. Hence
W^ilburn concealed his exactly where he knew the wolf
would place his feet if he attempted to get the bait sus
pended from the log.)
As before said, when Wilburn approached the bait he
saw at a glance the trap was gone, and on casting his eye
to the ground he saw the trail very plainly, and followed
it to a laurel thicket about fifty yards off. On parting the
bushes with his hands, there stood the first wolf he had
ever seen within a few feet of him, with one leg in the
trap, and the grapnel fast in a root. As he was an exceed
ingly large animal, WUburn determined to take him home
alive, and for this purpose made a ncose in a cord he had

WILBURN WATEES. 39
with him, slipped it over the mouth of the wolf, then tied
his feet all together, and slung him around his shoulders
like a powder-horn. Finding him too heavy to carry,
however, he cut his throat, took off the hide and carried
that home, which was sufficient evidence that he had cap
tured a wolf that all the most noted hunters in that region
had long since given up to depredate with impunity.
This first success gave him notoriety among the settlers,
and in a few weeks he was sent for from a distant neigh
borhood to go over and trap for an old female wolf — per
haps the mate of the one he had captured — that had been
killing sheep for two or three years, and could not be caught
by the most experienced trappers. Having borrowed the
same trap, he soon appeared on the scene of action. On
inquiry, he found that the old animal had been in the
neighboring mountains several years, and had become so
wary and cunning that all attempts at capturing her had
proved abortive. Wilburn at once' made his way to a
certain range where her lair was supposed to be, and it
was not long before he discovered signs of her whereabouts
and her line of travel towards the settlement where she
procured her rations. This was very plain to him in a
piece of marshy ground on the mountain side, near an
obscure cattle path, where crawfish had erected those pecu
liar chimney-like structures which we frequently see in
marshy places. His instinct for trailing where none but
an Indian can discern a track, soon revealed to him that
the wary old animal avoided the path where so many traps
had been set for her, and invariably placed her feet upon
one or more of these crawfish chimneys, as if conscious

40 WILBUEN WATEES.
there could be no traps concealed beneath them. Seeing
that she had passed that way a night or two before, leav
ing one of these little towers standing, and naturally sup
posing she would put her foot upon it the next time she
passed that way, he carefully removed it, scooped out a
place for his traps where it stood, fitted it in nicely, con
cealed it with leaves, and placed the crawfish structure
upon the trap, looking precisely as it did before he moved
it, and left the trap to take its chance.
In a day or two after he returned and found that the
wolf had been in his trap and left two of her toes, which
he put in his pocket. Knowing that she would not go far
with her crippled feet, he went out into the settlement and
got about a dozen men and as many dogs to run her down,
telling the men that she had been in his trap, and that he
knew exactly where to start her, without informing them
that she had left her toes. Next morning they were all
on the ground at an early hour, and started the wolf within
fifty yards of where the trap had been set. The men being
stationed at various " stands" in the range, she found it
difficult to get out, and doubled from point to point with
the dogs on her trail, till late in the afternoon, when she
was forced to seek and take shelter in her cavern. At this
time all the men except two had given up the chase and
returned to their homes, and only two dogs remained, be
longing to the two men who held out. Wilburn himself
was so close upon the wolf when she entered the den that
he saw her, and the two dogs were right at her heels. He
called up his two companions, and told them to make their
dogs go in and bring her out. They entered several times,

WILBUEN WATEES. 41
but were as often whipped out, torn and bleeding. Grow
ing impatient, Wilburn at last took off his coat and
crawled into the cavern snake-fashion. After proceeding
thus some distance, he^ saw her eyes shining like two balls
of fire in the back part of the den, brought his gun, which
he had pushed along before him, to bear, and fired. Not
seeing her eyes after this, he worked himself out and sent
the dogs in again, when they soon returned dragging the
. dead wolf kfter them.
As the scalp was worth $20, both the men, affecting to
believe that it was not the wolf that had been in the trap,
and each claiming that his dog "holed" her, and that
Wilburn, therefore, had no claim to her. "Well," said
he, "I can settle the dispute in a minute," drawing the
two toes from his pocket. "Here," said he, "take those
toes and examine her feet, and if you find they will fit
one of them, she belongs to me, if not she belongs to you
between you." This was sufficient evidence that the wolf
had been in the trap, and Wilburn, after a little plain talk
to them about their meanness, took off the skin and made
his way home with it. This gave him the reputation of
being the most daring and successful trapper in all that
mountain region, and made him an envied as well as hon
ored character among hunters and trappers.

CHAPTER V.
ADVENTURE WITH A WOUNDED BUCK.
About the time of Wilburn's first experience with wolves,
as related in the preceding chapter, he had his first adven
ture with a wounded and exasperated buck, which he re
gards as the most dangerous animal to approach in our
forests, when wounded or at bay.
He had gone out to, a "lick" a little before night to
watch for deer. These licks, or low marshy places, where
there are deposits of sulphur, salt, &c., and which deer
love to frequent, are very numerous in all this mountain
region. He had gone to one of these, which he knew deer
were in the habit of visiting almost every night. He had
just climbed a tree to be out of sight, and just about dusk
up marched two bucks, one of them very large, with a
magnificent head of horns. After cautiously snuffing the
air as if apprehensive of a hidden enemy, and failing to
wind him, they walked boldly into the lick. Failing to
get them in range so as to kill both at the same fire, he
selected the larger of the two, brought his rifle to bear
and fired. Both sprang off at the crack of the gun, but
he saw froin the motions of the one that he shot at, that it
was badly if not" fatally wounded. He came down from
the tree, followed the trail a few yards, and there lay his
buck apparently lifeless. As he approached it, it sprang
to its feet in a moment and came at him with the ferocity

WILBURN WATERS. 43
.
of a tiger. There was no escape from a terrible struggle
for life, and he knew that his only chance was in his extra
ordinary strength and activity, as well as coolness and
presence of mind. He had scarcely had time to think
even this much,' when the buck rushed upon and at
tempted to impale him. He grabbed him by the horns
and threw him several times, but the active animal was on
his feet again in an instant, and so the struggle continued
several minutes — to Wilburn it seemed hours — sometimes
one on top and then the other, but Wilburn's great strength
enabled him to keep his hold, although his clothes were
badly torn and his person considerably lacerated by the
sharp hoofs of the animal, which cut with the keenness of
a knife. Whilst thus struggling, he at length found time
to get his knife out of his pocket and open it with his
teeth. He made a desperate lunge and supposed he had
entirely severed its windpipe, but it made another effort
for freedom, kicked him loose and plunged into the under
growth. He followed it a short distance and found it dead
with its head nearly severed from its body.
Although Wilburn has many times since been in very
close places, and had many hand-to-hand fights with both
bears and wolves, he thinks he never has been as near
whipped out and in as much danger of losing his life, as
he was in that encounter with a maddened four-pronged
buck. Being now about nineteen, and having but very little
learning, he determined to return to the neighborhood of
Thomas Bryant, where he had lived the year before, and
go to school. He continued in the school about ten months,

44 WILBUEN WATEES.
and had learned to read, write' and cypher a little. The
wolves becoming very destructive about this time, it was
proclaimed in the neighborhood that the counties of Ashe,
North Carolina, and Grayson, Virginia, had offerecrhand-
some premiums for wolf-scalps, he at once determined to
embark in the business, for the sake of both pleasure and
profit. He was boarding at this time with a man by the
name of Wyatt, whose daughter was the wife of Andrew
Blevins, and they lived at White Top. Blevins and his
wife being then on a visit at Wyatt's, and White Top being
within the prescribed limits of the premium for scalps,
Wilburn asked Blevins if his was a good region for wolves.
On being informed that any number " used in those parts,"
as well as bears and all sorts of wild animals, he at once
determined to go there and try his luck, and accordingly
gathered up his gun and traps, and was soon at his future
home. But here we must go back a little, and bring up the
history of Wilburn's religious convictions, experience and
conversion, which will doubtless be dry and uninteresting
to some, who can, if they choose to do so, skip the balance
of this chapter. His religious convictions commenced
while at school, under the preaching of Rev. George Dou
glass, a Baptist minister. As he expressed it, he felt very
wretched, but could not tell why, and tried all manner of
ways to suppress his feelings. He then returned to Mor
gan Bryant's, where there was regular circuit preaching
by the Rev. George Baker. He determined to attend
preaching regularly, give way to his feelings and see what
it would result in. On one occasion he felt as if he were

WILBUEN WATEES. 45
suffocating, that the house" was too small for him, that he
was too near the preacher, a cold chill ran through his
system, and he' thought he was about to die. As soon as
preacmng was over, he started to a very dense thicket he
knew of in the woods, where no one could see him, for the
purpose of praying. When he reached it, it was not half
as dense as he had supposed, and he was very much afraid
somebody would see him. However, after peering all
around and satisfying himself that no one saw him, he
knelt dowh and prayed. He arose with his mind sfill
unsatisfied and desponding, and again tried to stifle his
convictions, but the more he tried the more wretched he
felt. On Sundays he would take his Bible and go out into
some obscure and dark hollow in the forest to read and
pray, but the doctrine of decrees that he had* sometimes
heard confused and perplexed him, and then again he
would seem to hear as if in an audible voice the words
"Except ye repent ye shall all likewise perish."
He continued in this frame of mind several months,
often exhorting others to forsake their sins, although still
unconverted himself. It was at this time that he met with
Andrew Blevins, and the impression that White Top would
be a favorable place, on account of its solitude, to find
religion as well as game, induced him to determine to
make its fastnesses his future home. Although after get
ting there he lived in a family who had no regard for the
Sabbath and sacred things, he continued to read his Bible
and pray, and had an idea that religion would be revealed
to him in an audible voice or some other equally miracu
lous way. Finding his own efforts of no avail, he at last

46 WILBUEN WATEES.
made a full surrender, and came to the conclusion that he
would cast himself unreservedly and helplessly upon the
great and abounding mercy of the Lord, who had promised
to save all who called upon Him in sincerity, truth and
faith. This he determined to do, if he died and perished
in the attempt. He then retired to his garret and prayed
the livelong night, and early in the morning he felt as if
he had dropped a heavy weight, and was inexpressibly
happy. The skies looked brighter, the trees greener, the
sun shone with a glory he had never seen before, the birds
sang more sweetly, the flowers were surpassingly fragrant
and beautiful, everybody he saw looked better than they
had ever looked before, the very woods and mountains
seemed to clap their hands with joy, and everything
appeared to be praising the Lord. A great burden had
been lifted from his heart, and he felt as if he could fly
away as on the wings of an eagle and enjoy the full frui
tion of (he saints in light. He then for the first time
comprehended, with inexpressible delight, that Scripture
which says "The wind bloweth where it listeth: thou
hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it Com
eth or whither it goeth," &c.
From that day to this — more than forty-four years — he
has never faltered or doubted, though, like all others, he
has had his seasons of depression and refreshing. He
found peace in the fall of the year, though he made no
public profession duringthe following winter, nor unite him
self with a church; he did not suppress or try to conceal
his feelings, but rebuked sin wherever he saw it, and ex
horted sinners to forsake their evil ways. As he was

WILBUEN WATEES. 47
among Baptists principally, they had some influence with
him, but his feelings revolted at close 'communion and the
doctrine of no falling from grace. In the spring he put
up a rude shelter where has ever since resided, and although
entirely alone, he held what he called family prayer every
morning and night. Soon after this a family came to stay
with him awhile, and it was a great cross to him to pray
in their presence, but he determined to pick up the cross
and carry it, which was far better than to drag it along,
and continued to keep the flame alive on the altar.
During the summer he heard of a two days' meeting
that was to be held at the house of Isaac Widner, in Wid-
ner Valley, twelve miles from his cabin, and determined
to attend. He did so when the time arrived, where he
met for the first time Mr. John Wesley Price, a very pious
gentleman, who talked to him a great deal, and seemed to
take unusual interest in his spiritual welfare. There was
to be a love-feast meeting during the day, and Mr. Price
insisted that he should attend it and relate his experience.
He at first refused, believing that he could not possibly
speak before so many people, but finally determined (to try
as a matter of duty. When, the time came, he felt as if a
great weight held him down to his seat. Several had
spoken, and, thinking that his turn had come, he made a
desperate effort to rise, sprang clear from the floor, spoke the
best he could, in a very stammering way, and became ex
ceedingly happy. There was to be a secret prayer-meeting
that evening, and fearing that he might be called on to
pray, he tried to make an excuse to be absent; but Mr.
Price prevented him, and he was the first one called upon.

48 WILBUEN WATEES.
He complied in a very feeble manner, but he thought of
the Publican's petition and took encouragement, remark
ing to a friend that it was no wo4der Jonah was willing
to be swallowed by a whale rather than go to Nineveh and
preach. Liking the Methodist doctrine and manner of worship
best, he united with that church, and from that day to this,
*'¦ through evil as well as good report," he has maintained
his religious integrity, performing his Christian duties and
obligations with an earnestness and zeal manifested by few,
and even since he has been an old man he will walk miles
through the mountains to attend religious worship. A few
years ago he was appointed Superintendent of a Sabbath-
school in a neighborhood eight miles from his residence,
and he never failed to be present, no matter how inclement
the weather.
While on the subject of Wilburn's religious character
istics and experiences, the next chapter will narrate some of
his peculiarities of thought and action at a camp-meeting
not many years ago.

CHAPTER VI.
EXPERIENCE AT A CAMP-MEETING WITH A NEW HAT.
In 1858 or 9 the Holston Conference held its annual
session in Abingdon, and the writer of these pages knowing
that Wilburn had never attended the deliberations of such
a body, and believing he would enjoy both the proceedings
and the ministrations of the occasion, prevailed upon him
to come out of his retreat, although he was averse to visit
ing towns and had not been in Abingdon for many years.
He came, attended the sessions regularly and punctually,
was at preaching every day and night, but failed to mani
fest as much interest as it was supposed he would. Bishop
Early, who presided over the deliberations of the body,
became acquainted with and very much interested in him,
and talked a great deal with him about his wild and soli
tary life, as well as about his religious joys and sorrows.
One evening near the close of the term of conference,
during the entire session of which the devotional exercises
had been of that dignified and quiet character not always
suited to the tastes of persons of impulsive and excitable
temperament, and to Wilburn rather lifeless and formal,
the Bishop asked him what he thought of the ministra
tions and other exercises of the occasion.
" Well, Bishop," said he, "I will answer your question
by' giving you a bit of history in my own religious experi
ence. About three years ago I heard of a camp-meeting

50 WILBUEN WATEES.
in Ashe county. North Carolina, some twenty-five or thirty
miles from my cabin, and on Friday night I made up my
mind to go, fixed up my plunder, greased my boots, and
started in that direction very early on Saturday morning.
On the way I had to pass a store, and as the hat I had on
was rather shabby, I concluded to stop in and buy a new
one, as much to honor the Lord as to look more respecta
ble myself. I bought one that suited me, paid pretty high
for it, put it on, left the old one and my gun at the store
till I should return, and arrived at the camp-ground early
in the afternoon. When I arrived, a minister was in the
stand preaching a cold and inanimate sermon — one, as I
thought, without unction or spirituality in it — and I quietly
took a seat as near the altar as I could get, putting my new
hat under my seat for safety. Just ds I was about to raise
my heart in prayer, I heard some one's feet shuffling under
my seat, and I knew my hat was in danger. This cut my
prayer short, and I moved the hat and sat it on the ground
beside me and went to praying again, but just then a
man behind me spirted a mouthful of ambier all round it,
and I began to think it would be ruined in spite of all I
could do if I didn't keep it on my head, which I couldn't
well do in the congregation. I moved it to the other side,
where another man seemed to have a like grudge at it, and
I took it into my lap. The fear that I would mash it
drove prayer out of my mind, and I looked all round for
a limb or something to hang it on out of the way of feet
and tobacco-juice, but could see nothing. The minister
preached on, and I again tried to pray, but that hat was
in my way and filled my mind, and my prayers seemed to

WILBURN WATEES. 51
stick fast in my throat. The sermon seemed to me as cold
as a snow-drift, and the meeting as lifeless and formal as a
Quaker funeral. When I tried to be devotional, some
thing would whisper in my ear, 'You had better take care
of that hat, or you will get it mashed as flat as a batter-
cake.' At length the long, dry sermon closed, sunset came,
and some one proposed, as the Lord had not poured out
His spirit upon us, perhaps he would, if we would all,
with one heart and one min^, go out into the silence of the
forest and supplicate Him. We went, I with my new hat
in my hand, fearful all the time that it would get mashed
in the crowd or injured in some way. We prayed and
sung, and sung and prayed, but our prayers didn't seem
to rise higher than our heads, and our songs higher than ,
the tree-tops. At last a good old father in Israel said :
'Well, brethren, there must be an Achan in the camp, the
Lord refuses to bless us, and we might as well return to
our tents.'
"I stood musing a few minutes, not knowing what to
do, with my hat still in my hand for fear it would get in
jured, when I heard a man utter a deep and bitter groan.
Looking around, I saw that all had left except that man
and myself, and he seemed to be in great agony. I asked
him what was the matter, when he replied that he was a
great sinner, and he didn't believe the Lord would pardon
hiih. ' Yes He will,' said I, ' if you call upon Him as you
should with your whole heart and soul, without depending
upon anything you can do yourself.' He said he had
prayed, but it didn't seem to do any good, and asked me
if I wouldn't pray for him. I told him yes, bless God I

52 WILBUEN WATEES.
would, laid my hat carefully away in a clump of bushes
where I thought nothing could 'get at it, and to praying I
went with all my might, soul and spirit. How long I
prayed I don't know, but when I came to myself the stars
were all out, the whole congregation had returned, the
despairing man was shouting and praising the Lord, all
the believers were happy and clapping their hands with
joy, and for the first time after the man asked me to pray
for him I thought of my new* hat, and it was gone. I
looked for the clump of bushes, but they had been tToiiin
down by the great crowd, but finally seeing something
black in the dust where the congregation had been shout
ing and shaking hands, I picked it up and shook it into
some sort of shape, and it was that new hat of which I
had been so careful, and ,which had occupied all my
thoughts. Forgetting it, my heart went out to the Lord.
He heard my supplications, the unhappy man was con
verted, the son of Jesse came into the great congregation,
the cry of 'what shall I do to be saved?' rang out on the
night air like the noise of many waters, and there was joy
and gladness in the encampment.
"And now. Bishop," said he, "there is a moral to this
story, and it is this — there are too many new hats in this
conference."

CHAPTER VII.
IN A CLOSE PLACE WITH A LARGE WOUNDED BEAR.
As stated in a preceding chapter, WUburn made his first
appearance at White Top in the. fall of 1832, when he was
about 20 years of age. Being but little mast that season,
there was of course but little game, and he did but little
successful hunting, not being yet prepared for wolf-trapping.
While roaming through the mountains, however, he came
across the place where he subsequently pitched his tent.
As related in the first chapter, he selected it because it was
in a rich, obscure cove, some distance from the nearest
settlement, and was the common refuge of wild animals
in cold and stormy weather. In addition to this, it was
central among the surrounding mountains, and a spring of
clear, cold water gushed from the rocks within a few feet of
the site of his future cabin. The land being vacant, he
entered 640 acres in the spring, and pitched his tent. This
was a rude concern, such as we sometimes see at a coal-pit,
with one end open. This was his habitation for four years,
where he lay at night with his feet to the fire on the outside,
often lulled to rest after a hard day's hunt, by the howls of
wolves and the screams of catamounts, which would prowl
around but were too much afraid of the fire to approach
very closely.
During the first summer and fall after going to house
keeping in this way, he killed a large number of wild

54 WILBURN WATERS.
turkeys and deer, six bears and several wolves and cata
mounts, though he had no daring or dangerous adventures.
The first wild bear he ever saw was during the fall, while
out stalking deer, but a mile or two from his cabin. It
was standing on a log about sixty yards from and looking
straight at him. Having heard that a bear was a very
hard animal to kill, and unless struck in a vital place was
a very dangerous adversary, he determined to shoot it in
the mouth or eye. As the former was the largest target,
he concluded to aim at that, and if he should fail to inflict
a fatal wound, and it should make fight, he would meet it
fair and square with his tomahawk. He drew a bead and
fired, when the bear sprang from the log to the ground
and died in a few minutes. On examining it, he found
the ball had split his nose, passed through the lower part
of his mouth, through the heart, and traversing the whole
length of the body from end to end.
Sometime after this, having killed a number in the
meantime, he had his first dangerous encounter with a
very large wounded and ferocious bear. He had been fol
lowing the trail on Pond mountain all day through a deep
snow, and as the snow was still falling at nightfall, he de
termined to remain where he was till morning, instead of
returning to his cabin several miles off, as the track might
be filled up before he could return. Thus deciding he
scraped away the snow at the root of a large tree, started
up a fire with the dryest sticks he could find, and laid down
supperless to rest.
As soon as the snow on the surrounding peaks began to
glisten in the rays of the rising sun, he arose, shook the

WILBURN WATERS. 55
flakes from his locks, and started out with his rifle to find
the tracks of the bear. The snow that had fallen through
the night had entirely obliterated the trail, but he had gone
but a short distance till he saw the tracks of a 'coon that
had passed along so short a time before that the trail was
still plain. Feeling that a little fresh meat — and especially
'coon meat, second only to that of bear with a hunter —
would be very acceptable for the breakfast of a man who
had no supper the night before, he followed on a hundred
paces or more, when his attention was arrested by what
seemed to be a bear-skin rolled up and lying on the snow,
some thirty or forty paces in front of him. While stand
ing and looking at it intently, and wondering how it had
gotten there, or who could have killed and skinned a bear
so near his habitation without his knowledge, he noticed
it gently rising and falling like an animal breathing. Seru-
tinizing it closely, and being satisfied that it had life in it,
the difflculty with him was, whether it was a fullgrown
bear partially covered by the snow or a cub lying on the
surface. If it should be the former, it would be a dange
rous experiment to shoot at it without a vital part visible
for a mark, and if the latter, a ball would kill it, hit
where it might. He revolved the matter in his mind some
minutes, watching it closely all the time, and finally con-
eluded that it was nothing but a cub, and, to use his own
language, he "shot at the pile." At the crack of the rifle,
the identical bear he had followed all the day before rose
from his bed, the snow surging and whirling as if it had
been stirred by a hurricane into a column of fog, and fix
ing his glaring eyes upon his assailant, gave unmistakable

56 WILBURN WATERS.
evidence of a furious attack. Wilburn was well enough
acquainted with the disposition of a wounded bear to com
prehend the situation in an instant, and as the animal
started towards him he knew there was but slight hope
of escape from a square fist-and-skuU fight with a very
large, wounded and exasperated bear. He had but a mo
ment to think, but in that moment he remembered that
his gun was empty and that he had left his tomahawk
at the place where he had slept. There was, therefore,
but one possible chance of escape, and that was to spring
as high as he could at a single bound up a beech sapling
by which he was standing, and remain as motionless as he
could, and this must be done while the bear would lose
sight of him for a second in passing round a large tree be
tween them. WUburn made the spring at the very instant
the tree was between them, holding to a limb above him
with one hand, holding his gun with the other, and his
feet meantime drawn as high up as he could get them, some
three or four feet above the ground. Before the sapling
had done shaking, and while thus perilously suspended,,
the bear, in a terrible rage from his wound, with his nose
to the snow and his ears projecting forward, passed imme
diately under and almost touching him. The situation
was a fearful one, for the bear, scenting but not seeing him,
tore up roots and twisted down saplings as if they h^d
been straws; circling round and round, and occasionally
springing upon and fighting a log or a rock in his eager
ness to grapple with his adversary. Failing to see his
mortal foe, who had been suspended above him for several
minutes by one arm, he took Wilburn's back track and

WILBURN WATERS. 57
disappeared in the undergrowth about fifty yards off.
Knowing that he would not give up the effort to find him
while the track was visible, but would return in a few
minutes, Wilburn dropped from his perch, ran down pow
der and ball in his gun without patching, and followed on
as fast as he could. When he arrived at the edge of the
undergrowth he heard the bear making a furious attack
upon a rock that protruded out of the snow, and parting
the bushes he saw him struggling as if with a living
enemy, and only about fifteen paces off. WUburn made a
noise to attract his attention, and as the bear raised his
head, and before he had time to spring to the attack, the
report of the rifle rang along the mountain-side, and the
bear rolled over dead in his tracks with a ball in his eyes.
He weighed near four hundred pounds, and yielded
eighteen gallons of oil.

CHAPTER VIII.
AN EXCITING WOLF-HUNT IN BLACK MOUNTAIN.
In giving the more thrilling of the hunting adventures
of Wilburn Waters, the writer cannot pretend to give them
in the order in which they occurred, as he is without dates
as to most of them. He will content himself with giving
the facts, as these are all that the reader will care about.
Some years ago, but little hunting having been done for
some time, the wolves became very numerous as well as
very destructive, not only in Southwestern Virginia, but
fearfully so in Western North Carolina; so much so that
but few sheep had escaped them in the vicinity of the
Black, Yellow, and Roan mountains in Rip Van Winkle's
dominions. The fame of Wilburn Waters, as an intrepid
and successful hunter and trapper having gone out into all
that country, a number of farmers and stock-raisers whose
folds had been broken up and scattered — some sixty in all
— drew up an obligation to give him one sheep each for
every wolf he would capture, in addition to the five dol
lars' bounty given by the county for each scalp.
Wilburn considered the proposition, and after killing a
few that were infesting his own neighborhood, he employed
one of his nearest neighbors to attend to his stock, locked
up his cabin, gathered his traps, and started out upon the
perilous and laborious expedition. Having reached his
hunting-ground, a hundred miles away from his home, he

WILBURN WATERS. 59
entered upon his business. Month after month he tra
versed those silent and almost impenetrable ranges, sleeping
in their gorges and among their precipices, but still the
game eluded him, and seemed to mock his efforts to come
up with them. Finally coming on "sign," and following
this till it became a broad trail, he stuck to it like a blood
hound, following it from mountain to mountain and from
county to county — at one time leading him out into the
open country, and then again plunging into the deepest
and darkest recesses of that uninhabited and almost un
trodden region.
At length the tr^il became so plain that he could run
upon it, and estimat(fe not only the number, but the sizes
of the different individuals of the gang, from their tracks
at their watering places. The sign and trail appearing to
be fresh all the time, he knew he must be close upon them,
and followed on from crag to crag and from cavern to
cavern, for weeks, and yet they eluded him, and at night
seemed to be as far from him as they were in the morning.
But, having undertaken to capture them, he intended to
do it, though he should have "to fight it out on that line"
all the year. After having followed them thus closely,
and so long and patiently, and believing them to be but a
short distance off, he marked the spot at which he had
arrived, and concluded to return to the nearest settlement,
rest a day or two, replenish his exhausted haversack, return
to the trail and never give it up as long as one of the gang
remained. With this determination he started back, but
had walked but a few paces, when he resolved to try the
last expedient, though a dangerous one, to ascertain whether

60 WILBURN WATERS.
or not they were within hearing, which was to howl. This
was an important matter as well as perilous, and required
to be managed with great adroitness. If an exact imitation,
he knew that the gang would dash at him in the greatest
fury, and if not an imitation, that it would frighten and
drive them to a distant covert. He stopped, gave a long
tremulous howl, as is the custom of the wolf when sepa
rated from his companions, and so exact was the imitation,
that the echo was still reverberating along the distant peaks,
when a portion of the gang, eleven in number, sent up a
responsive howl altogether, that almost, as he expressed it,
made his blood run cold, so fearful was it in the deep, dark
gorges of the mountain, miles away from the nearest human
habitation. Before the combined howl had ceased ringing
in his ears, he heard them coming through the undergrowth,
and by the time he had his large double-barrel shot-gun to
his shoulder they were within a few feet of him, with
foaming jaws and bloodshot eye-balls. Drawing a bead
upon the largest, and waiting till another came in line, he
pulled the trigger, and the two fell dead in their tracks,
and at the crack of the other barrel another sprang in the
air and fell motionless alongside of them. The others,
instead of avenging their death, or falling upon and rend
ing their slain companions, as they often do, and with the
terrifying smell of gunpoAtder in their- nostrils, raised a
long melancholy howl and fled back into the deeper and
more distant recesses of the mountain.
Securing the hides of the three he had killed, and
making sure of the course the others had taken, he made
his way out to the nearest settlement, rested a day or two,

WILBURN WATERS. 61
replenished his haversack, and again plunged into the forest,
determined not to return till he had captured the last wolf
of the gang. He held out faithfully, though they led him
from mountain to mountain and from gorge to gorge, to
great distances and for weeks; but when he returned he
brought'the scalps, not only of all that gang, but of others,
making in all forty-two wolves as his winter's hunt. Be
sides these, he captured during the hunt a number of cata
mounts, a few bears, an otter or two, and any number of
wild turkeys and other small game.
During the same general hunt, he had an exciting time
with a detachment of five wolves that had wandered off to
some distance from the main gang. He was entirely alone,
without even a dog, high up one of the tall peaks of the
Roan mountain, and several miles away from the nearest
human habitation. The five wolves he was in search of
were two old ones and three half grown. They had de
stroyed a great deal of stock in the range as well as in the
adjacent valleys, running out dogs that had been put upon
the trail, and even evincing a disposition to attack man
when alone.
Wilburn had found " sign " and had followed it up to a
tall cliff near the summit of one of the highest and most
inaccessible peaks in the range. It was a sultry, drizzly
day, and the " sign " appearing to be several days old, and
having greatly fatigued himself working his way up
through tangled vines and laurel jungles, and climbing
over and around steep and ragged precipices, he lay down
to rest under a shelving rock and fell asleep. In about an
hour he arose refreshed, and crawling out of his resting-

62 WILBURN WATERS.
place he found that the old leader of the gang had been
reconnoitering while he slept, and had passed along on a
ledge a few feet below him. Picking up his gun and
tomahawk, he took the track, and on approaching a pre
cipice, he saw the old male wolf at its base, quietly licking
his chops and apparently winding prey or an enemy in the
distance. Stealthily advancing to within convenient range,
Wilburn brought his shot-gun to bear and fired, when the
largest and most formidable wolf of the gang fell and died
without a struggle. Securing the skin, he made his way
with great difficulty to the top of the precipice, and there,
just beyoud the turn of the summit, he saw the four others,
three of them gamboling like puppies around the dam, not
having heard the report of the gun under the cliff. They
were in an open place, and it was very difficult to get within
range without being seen, heard or winded, but he made
out to "snake" it to within forty yards of them, and
"pulled down." Two of them dropped dead, but the old
dam and one of the cubs escaped into a cavern near by.
Having started out with the determination of capturing
the whole family, he went to digging with a sharpened
stick ; he soon reached the old one, which was too large to
get far into the hole, drew her out by the hind legs, and
tied her feet together. He had to widen the passage for a
distance of ten or twelve feet before he could reach the
other. The hole, after being thus worked out, was barely
large enough to admit his body, and it being impossible
for the wolf to escape, he had to meet it face to face. All
that he could see of the animal was its eyes, which shone
like two balls of fire in the darkness of the cavern, and

WILBURN WATERS. 63
having no room to operate with gun or tomahawk, he
cautiously slipped his hand over the wolf's head, grasped
it by the neck, brought it out and tied it as he had the
other. He then marched out into the settlement with two
live wolves and three skins, without having received a
scratch or wasting a load of ammunition. The day's work
brought him $175, made up by the settlers, whose stock
had been destroyed and whose lives had been menaced by
the gang.

CHAPTER IX.
FOUR BEARS IN ONE TREE.
During the war, owing to the scarcity of ammunition
and the danger of losing his stock during his absence,
Wilburn hunted but little. Hence bears accumulated
somewhat in the neighboring mountains, and even ven
tured into the settlements, as if conscious that their mortal
foe had given them the largest liberty to come and go at
pleasure. About the close of the war, in passing over one
of the mountains in his vicinity from his own to a neigh
bor's cabin, he came upon bear sign, and the hunting of
that species of game having become second nature with
him, he could not resist the temptation to return to his
cabin for his dog and gun, which he had left behind, and
to follow the trail, whether it should terminate in the
neighboring mountains or lead to coverts many miles
away. The sign having indicated to his unerring judg
ment, or rather instinct in such matters, that there were
four bears in company — an "old she" and three half-grown
cubs — he was all the more determined to follow them up,
knowing that it was next to impossible for them to jescape
him within sight of the smoke of his own chimney, and
to capture a whole family of bears at one time was rather
more of a wholesale business in that line ' than he had
been accustomed to of late years. Having returned to
the trail and started the dog upon it, the eagerness with

WILBURN WATERS. 65
which he bounded off convinced Wilburn that it was fresh
and the game not far in advance. He followed on as
rapidly as he could, and at the end of some three or four
miles the dog gave notice that the game was at bay.
Hurrying up, he was delighted to find all four of the bears
on the topmost limbs of a very high tree on the summit
of the mountain. After looking at them awhile and rea
soning with himself as to the best policy to pursue under
the circumstances, being alone and having but one dog, he
determined to kill the old one and two of the cubs, and
then, as he was in want of a pet, take the largest cub
alive. But the latter he couldn't do without help, for he
had tried the strength of cubs before, and could not hold
and tie it without assistance.
He then shot the old one out, which fell like a beef at
his feet, but the cubs being smaller and quicker in their
motions, eluded his aim for some time, and the sun had
gone down before he succeeded in shooting them out. The
larger and finer of the cubs was still in the tree, and now
it became necessary for him to keep it there, which he
knew would be difficult after it had lost its companions,
till he should go to the cabin he had started to visit in the
morning and procure assistance. Accordingly he built a
fire at the root of the tree, and telling his dog to stand
sentinel during his absence, soon found his way to the
cabin, several miles off. When he reached it he was dis
appointed to find that there was not a man about, but
there were two Women there, both stout and fearless, as
most mountain women are, and they promised to be with
5

66 WILBURN WATERS.
him by dawn of day in the morning, and tie the cub if he
could catch and hold it. Satisfied with this arrangement,
and telling them exactly how and where to find him; he
returned to the tree, and found that the dog had been
faithful to his trust, the cub being still in the tree, but ex
hibiting considerable impatience to effect a "change of
base." Wilburn stretched himself upon his back near the
fire, and during the weary hours of that long, cold night
he kept his eye on the motions of that well-grown and ac
tive cub, as it would occasionally come down the body of
the tree to within ten or a dozen feet of the ground, and
then, with the apparent agility of a squirrel, mount again
to the very highest limb large enough to bear its weight.
He knew that it would not be apt to come down while the
fire was burning brightly so close to the tree, and hence
permitted it to enjoy the sport of descending and ascend
ing at pleasure.
Just as day was breaking, the two women, true to their
promise, made their appearance upon the theatre of action.
He placed them at a little distance, prepared with thongs,
instructed them not to speak and to remain as motionless
as possible, and then lay down within reach of the tree,
with the dog and the fire on the opposite side. As soon as
the sun began to tinge the tree-tops, the cub knew it was
time to be traveling, and gradually descended, tail fore
most, as is their custom, occasionally reaching out its hind
feet feeling for the earth. After considerable delay, climb
ing down the body of the tree and then bounding up again,
as if halting between two opinions, it came within reach, and
as it protruded its feet to feel for the ground, Wilburn's

WILBURN WATERS. 67
iron grasp was upon each foot, and away they went down
the mountain side wheelbarrow fashion, at a rapid rate, re-
,gardless of whatever interposed. Wilburn finally suc-
cepded in getting astride of it with his hands tightly
grasped about its neck, but it was larger and stronger than
he had bargained for and carried him with John Gilpin
speed over bushes, logs, rocks and briars, sometimes one
on top and then the other, tearing nearly every rag from
his body, and lacerating him with its claws from the top
of his head to the soles of his feet. But he held on, for it
would be a burning disgrace to lose the cub after waiting
for it the livelong night and saying that he intended to
take it alive. They finally reached the base of the moun
tain, both pretty well exhausted, but still in a terrible
struggle for the mastery.
The women in the meantime followed on with the thongs
as fast as they could, though far in the rear, as they had no
bear to ride, and when Wilburn heard them coming in the
distance, as they followed the broad trail left by himself
and the cub, he came to the conclusion that he was not in
proper costume for the reception of company, his wardrobe
comprising but little besides the waistbands of his pants,
suspenders and one sock. Whilst ruminating as to the best
policy to adopt under the circumstances, the women, from
whom he was still concealed by the thick laurel, were
within a few paces of him, when he informed them it
would be imprudent to come any nearer to the cub, and
that if they would return to the settlement and procure
assistance to get the dead bears out, he would manage to
tie the cub with his gallowses, and meet them at the cabin

68 WILBURN WATERS.
sometime during the day. In a word, there was no admit
tance for ladies at that show.
The women, having seen detached portions of his cloth
ing in his wake, took the hint and left him and the cub to
settle the difficulty in their own way. Wilburn, after con
siderable trouble attended with no little danger, succeeded^
in tying his pet tight and fast, and in due time made his
appearance among his female friends, "clothed and in his
right mind," having safely carried the cub to his cabin,
where the writer of this saw it a few weeks after.

CHAPTER X.
FIQHCT WITH A BEAR ON THE BRINK OF A PRECIPICE.
One of the most dangerous and exciting encounters
Wilburn Waters ever had with a bear, occurred on the
first day of January, 1873, after he was sixty years of age.
He had been making his home for some time with Clark
Porterfield, of Grayson county, who kept good dogs and
was as fond of hunting as himself. At the time spoken of,
Porterfield suggested that they should take a turn in Pine
mountain, a few miles off, and see if they couldn't hustle
up something that would pay for the trouble as well as
afford them a little sport. There having been a good deal
of rain and snow, the former having frozen before the latter
fell, it was very difficult to get along, particularly where
the ground was anything like steep. For this reason, as
well as his knowledge that the surface of the mountain was
broken with precipices, chasms, and densely covered with
dwarf pines and matted vines, WUburn remonstrated
against trying it at that time, but finally yielded to his
companion's importunities. They started out, and had not
gone very far on one of the spurs before the dogs struck
a trail and dashed off toward the top of the mountain.
This put "life and mettle" in Wilburn's heels, and it was
not long till he left his young and active companion far in
tbe rear. Knowing that no "varmint" but a bear would
seek refuge in a spot so high and rugged, and in an atmos-

70 WILBURN WATERS.
phere almost Arctic in its rigor, he hastened on as fast as
he could, zigzaging along narrow ledges, sometimes losing
his foot-hold and sliding back many feet until stopped by
a tree or a rock, and at one place crossing a deep and dan
gerous chasm on a tree that had fallen across it, and which
was incased in ice, he emerged into an open place on the
mountain-side, and there, within about forty yards of him,.
he saw the two dogs at the root of a tree, and three bears
in the top, one of them an uncommonly large one. He
thought it was the grandest sight he ever saw in his life.
He had his shot-guni with him, for a rarity in a bear-hunt,
one barrel of which was charged with a musket-ball,
wrapped with tow to make it fit, and the other with.a dozen
buck-shot. He calculated on killing all three if Porterfield^
who he heard calling in the distance, should come up in
time to assist him, and selected the largest for the first fire.
He first tried the ball, and for the first time in his hunting
career made a clear miss, the bear taking no more notice
of it than if he had not fired. He then drew a bead with
the barrel charged with buck-shot, and at the crack of the
gun the bear came down the tree in a hurry, disabled one
dog at the first pass, and seizing the other by the head they
both glided down to the bottom of a deep gorge as if shot
from a mortar. Seeing that the dog was no match for his
powerful and maddened adversary, Wilburn, like shot
from a shovel, was with them in an instant in the narrow
bottom of the gorge, with tomahawk in hand. Before he
had time to reflect upon the situation, he found himself, as
he termed it, in a hand-to-hand fight with the bear. The
bear at once let the dog go, which was tqo badly hurl to

WILBURN WATEES. 71
render any farther assistance, and made at Wilburn in a
most terrible rage. For a few minutes they took it lick
about, with this difference — WUburn making every lick
with his tomahawk tell, while he successfully dodged each
pass of the bear. While the combat was going on the bear
was all the time slowly retreating toward a precipice a few
yards off, from the brink of which he could leap into the
tree-tops below, and make his escape, and finally made a
rush for it, when Wilburn, seizing him by the hair, mounted
him and had a fearful ride for a few jumps. While thus
seated he gave him the last fatal lick between the eyes with
his tomahawk, just as he reached the edge of the precipice.
When the bear fell, his head and fore-feet were hanging
over. One foot farther, or one lick less, and tliey both
would have pitched headlong a hundred feet or more down
jagged rocks, and the bears and wolves would thereafter
have prowled and depredated at will in that locality, as
their mortal foe would have gone to the happy hunting-
grounds where his fathers and people had long since gone.
By this time Porterfield came up out of breath and out
of patience, in not being able to make the connection in
time to be in at the death of the game. He and Wilburn
returned to the tree where the latter had left the two bears,.
but they were gone. They had come from the tree, de
scended a high and steep cliff, but it was bo intensely cold,
night coming on, and no dogs able to follow up the trail,
they were forced to relinquish the hunt. They returned
to the dead bear, divided and carried it out to where they
had left a horse, and sometime during the night reached
the residence of Mr. Porterfield nearly frozen, but happy

72 WILBURN WATERS.
in the possession of a bear that weighed nearly four hun
dred pounds, and meat for a month that hunters love better
than any other, and that Wilburn regards, as an Irishman
does whisky, "the very life of man."

CHAPTER XI.
A BEAR HUNT IN THE IRON MOUNTAIN.
The following was related to the writer by a friend who
took his first and last bear-hunt with Wilburn Waters
some years ago.
Happening to be in Wilburn's dominions one snowy
November, something less than a dozen years ago, and
feeling that I could trust my steel-barrel rifle in almost any
emergency, as well as having a desire to knock up the
trotters of one bear during a residence of an ordinary life
time within sight of their foraging-grounds, I had the
temerity, without due and sober reflection, to ask him if
he could'nt get up a chunk of a hunt for my special benefit.
"Oh, yes," he replied, "there are two pretty good ones in
the laurel across the ridge yonder — I saw the sign yester
day — and if you will take a stand on a branch of the
mountain in the morning, I'll hustle 'em up and drive 'em
out to you."
"All right," said I; "but, Wilburn, I want you to remem
ber that I am a novice in bear-craft, and you must be care
ful not to send out too many at once." " Don't be uneasy,"
said he, "as one will be about as many as you can manage,
and I should'nt be surprised if you don't think that he is
one too many before you are done with him, for they're
awful troublesome critters sometimes."
The hunt being determined upon and arranged, we had

74 WILBUEN WATEES.
bear-meat, corn-dodgers and wild honey for supper, and
the long ride through the rarefied air of the mountains that
day having whetted my appetite to a pretty keen edge, and
having stowed too large a portion under my vest, I was
fighting, shooting at, and running from bears the livelong
night, in my troubled dreams, 'and rose from my bed of
skins in the morning with very serious misgivings as to
the wisdom of bear-hunts in general, and of the present
one in particular. But, having of my own free will and
accord proposed it, and Wilburn having cheerfully and
promptly acceded to it, I had no alternative but to "screw
my courage to the sticking point," and go into it whether
I got the bear or the bear should get me. We had an
early breakfast, but somehow or other my appetite was not
as sharp as it was the night before, and an involuntary
nervousness would occasionally creep over me, when I
thought of what a dangerous animal a hunted and mad
dened bear was, and which I could not dispel by more than
one libation of "mountain dew" which I usually carried
with me in my rambles, as an antidote for snake bites!
Everything being ready, we swung our accoutrements
around us, threw our guns across our shoulders, Wilburn
whistled up his dogs, and off we started. For the first
mile or two he diverted my thoughts by instructing me
how to act in presence of bruin, and how and where to
shoot as he approached me, during which time I stepped.
along lightly enough, and paid but little attention to the
spurs and cliffs over and around which we had been climb
ing; but after walking along thus for about four miles,
the laurel in which the- bears held their revel came in view.

WILBUEN WATEES. 75
when all at once, though not without serious premonitory
symptoms, my feet began to feel exceedingly heavy, and I
entertained very solemn doubts as to whether there was so
very much sport in bear-hunting after all, particularly where
the chances were about equal of being eaten or to eat — the
difference, if any, in my opinion, being rather in favor of
the bear. My spirits, too, began to flag very perceptibly,
and though I tried, I could not attribute my feelings to the
weather, for, although the earth was covered with snow,
the morning was bright and balmy, the sun shone out in
all his splendor, and the crystalized dew-drops hanging
upon the foliage of the tall hemlocks, sparkled like gems
in the tresses of an oriental bride. The red-birds, all
dressed in crimson sheen, flitted in happy glee from spray
to spray, the squirrels played their wild gambols among
the bespangled tree-tops, and all living creatures around
me seemed to be as happy as a bevy of holiday-dressed
children at a Sabbath-school festival. I, however, had no
relish for the grand and beautiful, for of all animated
nature in the wild-wood that lovely morning, I alone was
to run the risk of being eaten by a bear!
At length we came to the place where I was to take my
stand. It was a wild, silent spot upon the mountain-side,
a few paces from the edge of the laurel where bears "most
do congregate," and as soon as Wilburn left me and dis
appeared in the jungle, I began to feel very uncomfort
able — a sort of weakness about the waistbands of my
pants — and very earnestly reasoned with myself whether
or not it was right and proper to. stand behind a tree and
murder an innocent bear in cold blood while going about

76 WILBUEN WATEES.
his legitimate business ! The more I thought about it the
worse I felt, until my knees grew singularly weak, and if I
did'nt have an old-fashioned shake of ague, it was some
thing so near akin to it that I couldn't well tell the diffe
rence; but when, a few minutes after, the perspiration
broke out all over me in great big beads, I was ready to
be qualified that I had the real bona fide Arkansas fever
and ague, and thought it not only in very bad taste, but
criminally imprudent, for a man in such a wretched state
of health as I was at that moment, to be standing away out
there on the mountain-side without a physician, or quinine,
or a bottle of French brandy.
Whilst ruminating upon my condition, and the more
serious probabilities of killing a bear or of a bear killing
me — in which I had a very decided choice, notwithstanding
the maxim that "it is a bad rule that don't work both
ways" — I heard the bay of Wilburn's dogs in the distance,
and all at once the ,skin of my head felt as tight as a raw
hide on a banjo, and it seemed to me that I would never
be able to shut my eyes again, though I never had better
reason to keep them as wide open as possible. I would
have felt more comfortable under an oyster-shell at the
bottom of the ocean. Looking and listening with the most
intense interest, I heard the tread of something coming
that seemed to be as heavy as the march of an elephant,
and I felt as if I had taken a new lease of life when the
formidable animal proved to be a boomer, a species of
mountain squirrel. WhUst wondering how so small an
animal could make so big a racket, I heard the report
of Wilburn's rifle away down in the jungle, and my

WILBURN WATEES. 77
./
heart raised in thankfulness with the hope, that there
was one bear less to make a dinner off my bones that
day. Another report soon followed, which instead of
relieving my anxiety in like ratio, suggested the appre
hension that Wilburn, instead of killing a bear, had prob
ably only wounded one, and if so, and he should come
across me on his way to the cliffs above, I had better be
preparing my nerves for a steady aim, or saying my prayers,
or perhaps both. W^ith this unwelcome thought intruding
itself, I grasped my rifle with a tenacity that a young earth
quake could scarcely have shaken loose, and with a deter
mination that nothing but desperation could have imparted,
and awaited the coming of the last thing I wanted to see
on the face of this green earth — the very bear I had gone
out voluntarily and purposely to kill! While standing thus
with one foot rather unsteadily planted in front, the breech
of the rifle to my shoulder, and my eye running along the
barrel, a hand was laid upon my shoulder from behind, and
a voice, which I at once recognized as Wilburn's, said, in
the sweetest 'tones to which I had ever listened — "Stop,
friend, hadn't you better spring your triggers and oock your
gun before you shoot? — but you needn't waste your ammuni
tion; I've killed two bears down in the laurel, and there
isn't another within ten miles of here!"
If I ever felt happier in my life I have forgotten the
time, place and circumstances; my kpees became firm and
steady; I was all right about the waistbands; the cold sweat
had vanished like the dew of the morning; I could open
and shut my eyes with the facility of a frog, and have not
felt a symptom of fever and ague from that day to this.

CHAPTER XII.
AN ADVENTURE WITH A MAD WOLF.
Some thirty-odd years ago, when the writer of these
pages spent a large portion of his time in the woods and
mountains that might have been more profitably employed
in more useful pursuits, it fell to his lot, one pleasant day
in autumn, to be in a deer drive with Uncle Billy Stevens,
of Drutor's Valley, who was long known by most of the
citizens of Abingdon, as well as by a majority of the men
of Washington county, as a genial, honest, warm-hearted
old man, who loved his friends and his grog, and was ever
ready to let the plough stand in the furrow or the mash in
the still-tub, when a friend called upon him for a hunt.
On one occasion, as before said, it fell to the lot of Uncle
Billy and the writer to be the drivers in a big deer-hunt
on the South Fork of Holston. We had gone out into the
mountain some distance, leading half a dozen dogs each,
with several out in advance hunting up a trail, and as we
ascended a spur, the loose dogs struck up their music,
dashed off eagerly and soon disappeared in a direction
contrary to that usually taken by deer — in the opposite
direction from water. "I wish I may go to heaven, honey,"
said Uncle Billy, "if the dogs haven't hustled up a varmint
of some sort, for a deer wouldn't gallop right straight off
from the river as warm a day as this is, with four dogs
behind him."

WILBUEN WATEES. 79
¦ We kept on up the spur, but hadn't gone very far
before we met the dogs trotting back with their tails
down and the hair on their backs turned the wrong way.
^' There!" exclaimed Uncle Billy, "I told you so, and
there's nary devil if they haven't jumped a wolf or a bear,
and are frightened into fits." We kept on, the dogs fol
lowing us very timidly and suspiciously, and soon came
to a bed in the leaves in a patch of laurel, which, as soon
as Uncle Billy saw, he put his hand in it and exclaimed,
¦"By Jingo, they've jumped a wolf sure enough, and the
bed is as warm as a skillet. Let's get away from here on
to another spur, or we'll have no sport to-day, and them
darned dogs that's been frightened won't get as far from
us as our shadows for fear the infernal varmint will eat
¦'em up."
We changed our course, made our way farther into the
recesses of the mountain, turned our dogs all out, a few at
a time; started two or three deer towards the river where
the standers were stationed, and made our way back to the
settlements. On arriving at the cabin of Davy Stevens, a
brother of Uncle Billy's, and telling him about the wolf,
he remarked that the part of the mountain where the dogs
had jumped him was, in his younger days, the greatest
wolf-range in all this country, and then went on to relate
an adventure he had with a mad wolf many years before,
and which will be related in his own words, as near as the
writer can recollect them.
"Some forty years ago," said he, "I went out to a cave
in the mountain to salt a few cattle I had in the range. I
rarely ventured far in that diiection without my gun, as

80 WILBUEN WATEES.
bears and wolves were as plenty at that day as rabbits are
now, but as I had to carry a poke of salt and a heavy bell
and collar to put on an old ox among the herd, I had to
leave my rifle at home. A heavy rain coming up, I was
detained some time in a hollow tree, and by the time I had
gathered together and salted my cattle, the sun had disap
peared beyond the hills. I started out towards home, and
as I topped the Double spur I heard a faint howl in a deep
gorge some distance in my rear, but it was so faint I couldn't
tell exactly what it it was — whether a dog, a wolf or a big
owl. Stopping a few moments to listen, the sound became
more distinct and seemed to be coming rapidly nearer. I
now knew it to be the howl of a wolf, and from the direc
tion the animal was taking, it was evident he was following
my track. I thought this very strange, as a wolf is a
cowardly cuss, avoids the track of a man, and skulks from
his presence. I at once concluded it must be famished,
and wanted to make a supper off my bones. This thought
made my feet feel very light, and I didn't let much grass
grow under 'em as I ran down the spur, leaping rocks and
logs like a buck. Before I reached the bottom I heard
the wolf top the ridge precisely where I had crossed it, and
start directly down the spur which I was just leaving.
Fright gave me speed, and reaching a low place where the
heavy shower a few hours before had left a pond some
twelve or fifteen feet in diameter around a big hemlock,
the limbs of which grew out to within a few feet of the
ground, and finding from his howls that the wolf had
gained upon me very rapidly, I waded in and climbed the
tree. The sun was just about setting, and I had scarcely

WILBUEN WATERS. 81
hidden myself as well as I could among the foliage, when
the wolf, one of the largest I had ever seen, came bound
ing along on my track, with long flakes of yellow foam
streaming from his mouth, and eyes like two balls of fire.
He was so intent on overtaking me, and running with-
such eagerness, that he overran the trail some distance, and
finding himself at fault, he circled round awhile, and then
came back to the edge of the pond where he had lost my
track, which he was now unable to find. He looked in
every direction, and perhaps scenting me, trotted around
the pond a time or two, and then raised a long, tremulous,
melancholy howl. By this time darkness was beginning
to fall upon the scene, and I arrived at the unpleasant
conclusion that I was to have my lodging place for the
night among the limbs of that hemlock. After remaining
some ten or fifteen minutes, as if conscious that I was
somewhere near, and as if undetermined what to do under
the circumstances, he took the back-track and galloped off
slowly up the spur we had come down less than an hour
before, howling at intervals, and when I heard him cross
the summit, and the last faint echo of his receding howl
died away as he descended the opposite side, I dropped out
of my perch and took to my heels like a quarter-nag. In
an hour I was safe and snug inside of my cabin.
"Being pretty well broken down by my long and ex
citing foot-race, it was not long till I was in bed and fast
asleep. About midnight a terrible storm came up, and
right in the midst of it, while the lightning was flashing,
the thunder pealing and the wind shrieking, I heard a
6

82 WILBURN WATERS.
tremendous rumpus in the yard between my two big curs
and some sort of a varmint. I got up and went to the
door, but the night was so dark I could see nothing, though
the dogs seemed to be in a death struggle with something
that appeared to be a match for them. I lighted a torch
and stepped out, and there, within a few feet of me, stood
the very wolf I had seen in tjie mountain, viciously snap
ping at the dogs as they held him at bay. A wolf is afraid
of fire, but notwithstanding the torch in my hand he
rushed towards me with great fury and foaming at the
mouth like a mad dog, when the dogs clinched him behind
and stopped him. I at once saw that he was mad, for I
knew that a wolf that had his senses about him would
never have come into the yard to such severe dogs, or rash
at a man with a fire-brand in his hand. I stepped back
into the cabin and got my rifle, and holding the torch in
my left hand along the barrel I put a bullet between his
eyes,, which settled his hash, and then went back to bed.
"Next morning I rose early and went out and found
that my dogs were both badly hurt, torn and bleeding ih
various places. Fearing that my suspicions of the wolf
being mad might be correct, I chained them and went to
doctoring their wounds. In less than two weeks both of
them took the hydrophobia and I had to put an end to
their sufferings with the same rifle that ended the career
of the mad wolf."

CHAPTER XIIL
ADVENTURE WITH A FOUR-PRONGED BUCK IN THE HOLSTON.
The writer hopes to be pardoned for giving a narration
of an exciting adventure in which he acted a prominent
part. A number of years ago, when I was a younger and
much more active man than I am at present, it fell to my
lot to participate in a deer-drive that came very near being
my last.
Colonel Addison White, at that time a representative in
Congress from Kentucky, and now a resident of Hunts-
ville, Alabama, was spending a few weeks in Abingdon
(of which he is a native), and as he was, as he still is, a
genial, whole-souled gentleman, a splendid shot, and pas
sionately fond of hunting, those of his friends here who
kept hounds and were as fond of the sport as himself, made
up a hunt for his gratification, and repaired to the moun
tains with 'a tent and such creature comforts, both solid
and liquid, as were deemed necessary for a sojourn of
several days in the woods. Arriving at the bank of the
river, some dozen miles from town, we pitched our tent,
made a huge fire of logs in front of the opening, partook
of supper, and fed the waiting hounds all standing round
in couples. This accomplished, some stretched themselves
upon their blankets, others amused themselves at "Old
Sledge" and other pastimes, while the "drivers," of whom
I happened to be one, divided the dogs among them, filled

84 WILBURN WATERS.
their haversacks and bottles, and for the purpose of making
as early a start as possible, proceeded to the mountain, a
few miles away, to rest beneath the tall hemlocks, where,
deprived of the hilarity and good cheer of the encampment,
they enjoyed the soothing influences of \ the "voices of the
night." For the information of the reader who may not be fam
iliar with the modus operandi of a deer-drive, it may not
be out of place to give a brief explanation : All except
the drivers take stands. Deer, in warm weather, usually
seek the highest, coolest and most inaccessible peaks in the
mountains, and when started from their lairs run certain
well-known routes, and make for the nearest stream, at
certain points or crossings, which hunters call "stands."
Nine deer out of ten, and nine times out of ten, if started
in the same range, will make directly for these crossings,
which are all known to practical hunters.
On the occasion referred to. Colonel White was stationed
at one of the best stands on the bank of the Holston,
and it fell to mf lot, as before stated, to be one of the
drivers. Early in the morning, while all was serene and
quiet, and the wild-flowers were budding beneath the
moisture that nature had distilled upon them during the
night, I untethered my canine companions and started them
out upon their mission. They had trailed off but a short
distance, when they "opened" in lively and eager chorus,
soon jumped a large four-pronged buck, in full view from
where I was standing, which, from the direction he took,
I was satisfied would attempt to cross the river at the stand
occupied by Colonel White. Believing this, I followed on

WILBUEN WATEES. 85
as rapidly as possible, and was surprised when I reached
the river and had crossed to the stand to learn from the
Colonel that he had neither heard a dog nor seen a deer.
But, .while we were talking about it, we heard a solitary
dog coming down the bank of the stream, on the side we
were on, and a moment after we saw the buck — the same
I had seen in the mountain several hours before — going
out on the opposite side, one hundred and eighty yards
above, as. was sub.sequently ascertained by actual measure
ment. The deer, not being as closely pressed as is some
times the case, had circled around awhile in the hills,
crossed above through an unguarded stand, and was now
trying tO elude the dogs by recrcssing the river and making
back toward the mountain. But, as before said, we saw
him going out on the opposite side, one hundred and eighty
yards above us, and seeing that Colonel White was about
to shoot, I suggested that the game was too far off and
running too fast for a rifle, and that he would miss him,
but he replied he would be sure to miss him if he didn't
shoot, and blazed away. The buck, with as much noncha
lance , as if nothing had happened, shook the water from
his flanks and disappeared in the undergrowth. My own
impression was that the ball had not reached him, but the
Colonel contended that he had struck him, and that the
wound was fatal, as he had seen the mist fly from his hair
at the crack of the gun. To settle the question beyond
cavil, I took the dog, which had came to us a few minutes
after the buck had disappeared, knowing that if he had
been Wounded he would not go far from the river, and
started across. Coaxing the dog along as I waded into the

86 WILBUEN WATEES.
stream backward, which was about one hundred afld fifty
yards wide, deep and rapid — being swollen by recent rains —
I fell backward over a sunken ruck, and of course went
under, neck and heels. Belonging, as I did, to that branch
of the church militant, sometimes sacreligiously termed
"web-footed," because they maintain the ¦" Apostolic doc
trine of immersion," I didn't mind practicing^ what I
preached, but struck out, swam across, followed by the
dog, and put him upon the track, the Colonel meanwhile
remaining at his post. As soon as the dog found the trail
and started, I "shed my linen" and so forth, and spread
them out on the bank to dry. Whilst thus divested, and
meditating upon the uncouth and uncomfortable appear
ance our first parents must have presented before they
learned the art of sewing fig-leaves together, I heard the
dog in full tongue, circling around toward the river a short
distance above me. For the purpose of heading the game
down stream towards where the Colonel was standing, I
started up the bank, but coming to a rugged cliff, bristling
with a formidable growth of bamboo briars, I concluded
it would not be very pleasant to pass through them in the
unprotected and delicate condition in which I happened to
be at the moment, and plunged into the stream for the pur
pose of swimming around the barrier. Just as I had got
ten about half-way along the cliff, I heard a racket above,
and looking up I saw the buck, with the dog hanging to
him, suspended between " wind and water," and the next
instant the buck, dog and myself were about as near being
in a pile as three animals could well be in five feet water.
Knowing that a wounded buck was dangerous, or even at

WILBUEN WATEES. 87
bay when not wounded, and that I was bound to "go up
the spout" or to the bottom of the stream if the dog didn't
save me, and seeing the enraged animal turn toward me
with his blazing black eyes and hair all turned the wrong
way, I called upon the dog as loudly and as earnestly as
ever a man called upon a friend in a pinch, and he re
sponded nobly. He swam up and seized the buck by the
throat, but was stricken to the bottom in an instant, and
when he again appeared on the surface, he was at least
twenty feet from where he went under. Meantime the
buck was approaching me with all the ferocity of a tiger,
and I retreating as fast as a man could retreat in water up
to his chin — I had no time to swim — when the dog again
grappled him behind, and they had it round and round in
the current, the dog holding his grip with a tenacity that
proved he comprehended the difficulties of the situation.
Here the scene became exciting, and, unlike the woman
who, when she saw her husband and a bear fighting, said
she didn't care which whipped, I must confess I had a very
decided choice. The tussel lasted several minutes, and I
became so much interested in it, and had so much sympathy
for one of the combatants, that I forgot my danger, when
I had ample time to get out of the water and take a tree
if I found it necessary. Colonel White, hearing the melee
in the water, came up, waded into the stream up to his
arm-pits, held the muzzle of his gun to the buck's head
and fired, and the first I knew of his presence was the re
port of his rifle and seeing the buck float off with a bullet
in his head. On getting the deer out on dry land we found
that the Colonel had given him a fatal shot the first time.

88 WILBUEN WATEES.
the ball having entered his flank and ranging diagonally
through his body had lodged under the skin behind the
opposite fore-leg. A right good shot with a rifle at one
hundred and eighty yards, and the game at full speed.

CHAPTER XIV.
ANOTHER AD"VENTURE "WITH A WOUNDED BUCK.
The writer having related one hunting adventure in
which he himself particpated, he is tempted to narrate one
more — and only one more.
A number of years ago I had two friends living not far
from the Iron mountain, where most of my hunting was
done, by the names of William B. and David L. Clark.
They were brothers, and always ready for a hunt or any
other kind of adventure in which there was sport or excite
ment. William, at the time of which I write, had a good
farm, an interesting family, kept horses and hounds, was
the most daring and successful in all this mountain region
except Wilburn Waters — and even excelled him in deer-
driving — and all the hunters within miles, when they felt
like enjoying something extra in the sporting line, flocked
to his hospitable and pleasant home, where they knew the
latch-string always hung on the outside. Not only so, but
he was the best marksman as well as the best driver in all
the mountains, and was always ready, no matter what else
might be on hand, to take a hunt with a friend. He was
one of nature's noblemen, and positively, and by odds, in
my opinion, the best man I ever knew, in any and every
sense; and I here take occasion to pay his memory this
passing tribute, because he has gone to the land of sha
dows — his life, in the prime ofhis manhood, was laid upon

90 WILBUEN WATEES.
his country's altar in defence of the "Lost Cause." He
was not a professor of religion, though I always thought
he professed it in the natural way. He had a heart in him
big enough for the Giant of Gath, a benevolence and dis
interestedness as pure as the mountain and the lake, a hand
'as open as the day — in a word, he was the only man I ever
knew in whom I could not suggest some improvement
were he to be "reconstructed."
His brother David, now a citizen of High Point, North
Carolina, and an artist of some celebrity, was younger, un
married, and lived with him, and was somewhat like him
in some of his characteristics. He also had a passion for
hunting, but while the former rarely wasted time and am
munition upon smaller game, "all were fish that came into
the net" of the latter, from a snow-bird to a big owl, or
from a squirrel to a bear. He usually carried both a rifle
and a shot-gun, with a tomahawk and a butcher -knife, so
as to be prepared for whatever might cqme in the way. He
was as fearless as a Turk, and was one of our most success
ful hunters.
' These two friends and myself had arranged for a hunt
among ourselves, and I rode over to their home, nine miles
off, in the night, to have an early start to the mountain next
morning. I had been hunting a long time, but always
preferring the post of "driver," had never had the pleasure
of killing a deer. William Clark was to do the driving on
this occasion, and David and myself were to occupy the
stands. It was a bright and bracing morning, and a shower
the night before had so dampened the earth as to enable the
dogs to trail without difficulty. As I had never killed a

WILBUEN WATEES. 91
deer, I was anxious to make sure work of it, and had pre
pared myself with a large shot-gun, six feet in the barrel,
and carrying twenty-four buck-shot. I occupied the best
stand, as the brothers were more anxious, if possible, than I
was myself, that I should " bag the game." I posted my
self with my back against a double tree on the bank of
the river, where tbe stream was some one hundred and
fifty yards wide, and with my heart thumping and my
fingers itching to pull the trigger, I awaited the coming
of the game, which I was sure would come, for William
Clark never failed to do what he promised, and he had
promised to send me a deer that morning. I was not kept
long in suspense. Listening very intently, I heard a chug
in the water, and looking toward the opposite bank I saw
a very large buck dashing through the rocky and turbid
stream directly towards me. To my excited vision he
looked as large as a three-year old steer, with a heavy and
wide-spreading head of horns. I stood as motionless as
the double tree against which I was leaning, and waited
till he came within fifty yards, when I drew a bead and
let him have it right in the face, his body being in the
water. At the crack of the gun we both fell — it shot at
both ends ! It kicked me — the gun, not the buck — into
the fork of the tree, where I was as tight and fast as a
glut in a rail-cut.
Here was a pretty predicament to be in, squirming and
t-ftristing like a worm on a hook in the fork of the tree,
and a wounded buck only a few feet off. While trying to
wriggle myself loose, I could distinctly hear the frenzied
animal floundering in the water, and momentarily expected

92 WILBUEN WATEES.
to feel his antlers, though I couldn't see him, and to receive
a wound which I would never be able to see -without per
forming one of the feats of the India-rubber man in Old
John Robinson's Circus, was rather more than I had bar
gained for, or was willing to put up with. I finally cork
screwed myself out, and there was the buck, not a dozen
yards from where my load of buck-shot met him, flounder
ing and charging round among the rocks, and seeming to
be doubtful as to what direction he ought to take. I pro
ceeded to reload — being careful to be more moderate in
my charge — and stepping away from the forked tree as a
criminal would from the stocks, and was about to fire the
second time when I heard the report of David's rifle a
few feet off, which put an end to the capers of my buck,
and took away exactly half of my laurels.
On getting the buck out of the water we found that
seventeen out of my twenty-four buck-shot had penetrated
his face and head, and both eyes were shot out. I have
never since put twenty-four buck-shot in a gun, and have
never fired one with my back to a forked tree. •

CHAPTER XV.
AMUSING ADVENTURES WITH BEARS.
The following short chapter, comprising a couple of
anecdotes, may or may not be strictly true, but the writer
gives them as they were related to him, and was acquainted
with the characters named. The reader can either peruse
or skip it, as he will not gain much by reading, or lose
much by not reading.
Not a great many years ago there were living in Wash
ington county, within fifteen miles of Abingdon, two old gen
tlemen, by the names of John R. and James H., familiarly
called by their neighbors "Uncle Johnny" and "Uncle
Jimmj'." They lived near together, not far from the base
of the Iron mountain. The first was an old and expe
rienced bear-hunter, but the other, although he had some
aspirations in that direction, had never been so fortunate
as to get into a successful hunt. Uncle Johnny, having
been out one day to salt his cattle on the range, came
across fresh bear sign, and meeting with Uncle Jimmy as he
was hastening home for his dogs and gun, told the latter he
would give him an opportunity of killing 'a bear if he
would go with him. "All right — I'm in," replied Uncle
Jimmy, "that's one thing I've been wanting to do, for lo!
these many years." They soon got ready and started out.
About half-way up the mountain, the dogs in advance of
them brought something to bay, and the two old men

94 WILBUEN WATERS.
hastening up found that they had treed a good-sized bear.
^' Just hold on, Jimmy," said Uncle Johnny, "till I put a
bullet through his smeller, which will bring him down
out of there quicker than no time — for a bear can't stand
to be touched at either end — and as soon as he touches the
ground the dogs, who understand their business, will seize
him by each side of his head and hold him as tight as if
he- was in a dead-fall; when you can take my butcher-
knife and cut his throat." "All right, I'm in," repeated
Unclp Jimmy, "and if I don't open the cuss' juglar, you
may shoot me with a pack-saddle." The bullet was fired,
the nose split, and down came bruin to the foot of the tree.
As Uncle Johnny had predicted, the dogs seized him on
each side, as he sat upright against the tree. "Now's your
time," exclaimed Uncle Johnny, "just walk up and cut
his throat; he can't hurt you, for the dogs will hang to
him like a sticking-plaster, and won't let go till it thun
ders." "All right, I'm in," repeated Uncle Jimmy, and
cautiously walking up to do his part of the work, he at
tempted to lay his left hand on top of the bear's head
while he cut his throat with the right, when bruin seized
him by the left arm,'which so much surprised and alarmed
him, that he stood as motionless as if paralyzed, with knife
upraised but without attempting to strike. Uncle Johnny,
seeing how matters stood and growing impatient, exclaimed
"Jimmy, why in the dickens don't you cut the cuss'
throat ? " " Why don't I ? " rejoined Uncle Jimmy ; " why
don't you see the darned thing 's a bitin' ? "
Uncle Jimmy finally comprehended the situation, and
very naturally concluded that now, if ever, was the time

WILBUEN WATERS. 95
for action, cut the bear's head nearly off with one swipe,
and escaped with slight injury. As long as he lived he
loved to relate his adventure with that "cussed bar."
The other anecdote is about as follows :
Soon after the close of the war, a very large bear, in
crossing from one mountain to another, passed near Abing
don. Some of the young men armed themselves, called
up their dogs, mounted their horses and were soon on the
trail. Some few miles from town, in close pursuit, they
passed through the farm of a good old citizen, who hap
pened to be out in one of his fields, with his dog follow
ing him. Hearing the noise of the chase, and looking
up he saw the bear floundering through the snow aud com
ing directly towards him. Being unarmed, and not ex
actly ready to be eaten just at that moment, he sprang to
the fence a few feet off, and climbed to the top of a stake,
determined to give the bear as wide a berth as possible.
While thus perched, the stake gave way at the bottom and
pitched him to the ground face-foremost. It occurred to
him very suddenly that he had heard or read that a bear
would not molest a dead body, and that he might escape
by feigning to be in that condition. His fall frightened
the bear and turned him in another direction, but his own
dog, not exactly understanding the strategy of his master,
ran up and began to smell about him as he lay upon his
face in the snow. Thinking it was the bear, and that the
critical moment had come when "to be or not to be" was
the great problem with him, he lay as motionless as pos
sible, and thus, in suppressed and sepulchral tones, ad
dressed the supposed monster: — "<to on, bear, go on — the

96 WILBURN WATERS.
hunters will kill you if you stop — besides, I'm dead — have
been dead a week — and ain't fit to eat no how ! "
The young man who had approached and heard this
earnest appeal to the supposed bear, was never forgiven for
having divulged it, as long as the worthy farmer lived.

CHAPTER XVL

We now come to the third division of subjects to be
treated — the first settlers on Holston and the subsequent
history of Southwestern Virginia.
Tradition informs us that the first white adventurer who
made his home in the Valley of Holston, was an English
man by the name of St. Clair, who had ingratiated him
self with the Indians, and erected his cabin near where the
old Church stands at St. Clair's Bottom, in what is now
Smyth county. At what period he fixed his home there is
not known, but it is supposed to have been about the time
of Braddock's defeat, which was in 1755;
Between 1755 and 1760, an enterprising gentleman by
the name of Patton made his way westward of the line of
civilization, and appeared on the head waters of the Hol
ston*. He was accompanied by three relatives, two by the
name of Buchanan, and one by the name of Campbell,
besides some two or three other persons. From Mr. Patton
and the three others named, sprang the families who first
peopled this end of the State. The Buchanans intermarried
with the Fattens, and Campbell was the father of General
William Campbell, of King's mountain memory. From
these sprang the Prestons, Floyds and Thompsons, who
subsequently owned the Saltworks, Burk's Garden, and all
7

98 WILBURN WATEES.
that magnificent boundary including the Seven Mile Ford,
the estate of Mr. James M. Byars and all the intermediate
lands. Mr. Patton and his associates came with compass and
chain, for the purpose of "spying out the land," and sur
veying and locating such portions as promised to become
unusually valuable in the future. Somewhere in the
vicinity of what is now known as Seven Mile Ford, they
met with St. Clair, a white man in Indian garb, on a hunt
ing and trapping expedition. Surprised to find a white
man where they supposed themselves the first of the race
who had ventured thus far into the wilderness. Mr. Pat
ton questioned him as to his knowledge of the country,
and was astonished as well as gratified to find him a man
of more than ordinary intelligence, an experienced woods
man, and familiar with all that broad belt of rich lands
between the Apalachian and Cumberland mountains.
Mr. Patton proposed to employ him both as a guide
and a protection against the Indians, provided they should
meet with them during their stay upon this, one of their
favorite hunting grounds. St. Clair informed him that to
survey the lands would be a dangerous undertaking and
might forfeit the lives of the whole company should the red
men catch them at it, but that he would show him the
choicest sections and guarantee the safety of the company
on condition that after Mr. Patton should have located
such boundaries as he might desire, he would survey and
enter a certain boundary for him (St. Clair) which he
would show him. Mr. Patton of course agreed to this,
especially as it was "Hobson's choice" with him. The

WILBUEN WATEES. 99
agreement being settled, Mr. Patton surveyed and took
possession q-f the large boundary where they were then
standing, including the magnificent estates above mentioned.
They then proceeded to the "Lick" where the Saltworks
are now situated, and where the aborigines had been making
salt from seeps from time immemorial, near the present
residence of Mr. Palmer, the whole of that beautiful and
rich alluvial bottom then being a lake. Several thousand
acres were here surveyed and located. They then proceeded
up the North Fork of Holston, and appropriated all that
valuable land in Rich Valley comprising the estate of Cap^-
tain Charles Taylor and others adjacent. This, it may be
thought, should have satisfied the most extravagant covet
ousness for the acquisition of lands, but Mr. Patton was
still desirous, of securing more, when they, with great diffi
culty, crossed what are now known as Flat-top and Church
mountains, and laid their chains upon that immense and
valuable blue-grass boundary known as the Cove, and now
in the possession of the Bowens, Barnses, and others, in
Tazewell county.
Partially satisfied for the time being, and winter warning
them of its approach, Mr. Patton proposed that they should
return to the Valley of Holston, and survey and locate for
St. Clair the boundary for which he had stipulated. They
accordingly retraced their way back across the mountains
to the South Fork, where St. Clair pointed out the coveted
boundary, which included all the land along the river,
especially on the south side, which is now known as St.
Clair's Bottom, then covered with splendid timber, full of
pure, bold springs, and abounding with cane and nutritious
wild grasses.

100 WILBUEN WATEES.
Not long subsequent to this, Mr. Patton met in his
rambles the pioneer Burk, who revealed to him the dis
covery he had made of that magnificent body of land ever
since known as Burk's Garden, in Tazewell county. From
the description given him Mr. Patton was captivated, and
proposed to the discoverer if he would show it to him, and
if it proved to be half as valuable as represented, he would
be at all the expense of surveying, platting and entering it,
and lay off .such portion of it to him (Burk) as he might
designate. Burk, being a poor man, readily entered into
the arrangement, but the whole of the Garden, the arable
portion of which comprises some fifty thousand acres,
eventually came into Patton's possession, was inherited by
a grandson bearing his name, and squandered in dissipation
by the possessor, who died at twenty-eight years of age.
One thousand acres in that Garden is now a fortune for a
man of reasonable desires. Mr. Patton thus secured all
•the finest lands on the principal sources of the broad and
beautiful Tennessee, and yet, although the third generation
has not passed away, scarcely an acre of his vast and
splendid domain is now in possession of his descendants.
It was not many years after Mr. Patton's first advei^ture,
before settlements began to appear at and near Abingdon.
A man by the name of Harper, who lived the lonely life
of a hermit, erected a cabin and cleared a patch in the
lower end of Druton's Valley. *Another, by the name of
Sharp, made an entry a few miles west of him, not far
from the Virginia and Tennessee line. One of the first
settlers at Wolf Hills — now Abingdon — if not the very
first, was a man by the name of Black, whose cabin was
near the base of the hill, a short distance south of the pre-

WILBURN WATERS. 101
sent residence of Colonel A. C. Cummings. The neigh
borhood took the name of Wolf Hills from the fact that
the headquarters of these animals were in a cave on the
lot and in rear of the residence of Mrs. A. E. Campbell,
Dr. Smith, who is supposed to have been the next settler
after Mr. Black, built his house about the year 1760 on
the lot now owned and occupied by Henry S. Preston, Esq.
When Captain Conn came to Abingdon before the Revo
lution, Dr. Smith had been dead some years, and his widow
was keeping a public house. Captain Conn boarded with
and afterwards married her. She was a native of South
Carolina. In 1786 Abingdon was a smart little village with two
hotels — one on the lot occupied by the family of Thaddeus
S. Hains, deceased, and the other on the spot now occu
pied by Messrs. Keller & Hines as a liquor saloon : the
first kept by Trooper Armstrong, and the latter by Mrs.
McDonald. The first court was held in a grove of hickory
saplings on the brow of the hill in rear of Mr. Green way's
store, and the first courthouse was in the middle of the
main and cross streets near the .present courthouse. The
oldest house now in Abingdon is that occupied by the
Weed Sewing Machine Company, opposite Mr. Greenway's
store. There was no house west of it in the village limit.
From this westward nearly to the creek was a wild plum
and chinquapin thicket, interspersed with large timber,
chiefly white oak. On the corner nqw occupied by the
store, of Messrs. Aston & Honaker stood William Green-
way's blacksmith shop, who excelled in the manufacture
of sickles. The next house on the same side of Main
street east, was a log cabin, used for a store in front and a

102 WILBUEN WATEES.
dwelling in rear, on the lot now occupied by Mr. James
W. Preston, then owned by a man by the name of Freel.
There was no house etlst of this except that of Mrs. Smith,
before mentioned. On the opposite, or south side of the
street, the' first house east was where the Washington
House now stands, and was occupied by Dr. Grass, and
upon this lot were born the elder F. P. Blair and General
Armstrong, Secretary of War under President Madison.
A man by the name of Wise lived upon the lot now occu
pied by the Arlington House. James Redpath, a carpen
ter, lived -where the handsome brick residence of Dr. R..
J. Preston now stands, and the corner was occupied by
Kit ; Achlin, who kept a dead-fall even at that early day,.
and he has had many a successor in Abingdon. William
Brice built a house where the Colonhade now rears its
stately walls, but it was burnt down in a short time. These
comprised nearly all of Abingdon in 1786.
In 1798 Henry Clay and Captain Henry St. John
Dixon came to Abingdon together for the purpose of set
tling, provided the country suited them. The former,
after looking around for a week or two, proceeded on to Ken
tucky, where his mother had settled after her second mar
riage, and the latter, having become acquainted with the
family of Mr. Dick White, on the farm now . owned by
Mr. W. H. Betts, married one of his daughters, and lived
for many years where the Stonewall Jackson Institute now
stands. These facts, which the writer has from reliable sources,
are thrown in here to preserve them for the future histo
rian, as all who were familiar with them have long since
passed away.

CHAPTER XVII.
THE ABINGDON OF MODERN TIMES.
Having glanced, in the preceding chapter, at Abingdon
as it was in the latter part of the past century, it may not
be out of place to devote a short chapter to it as it is in
this year of our Lord 1878.
Abingdon was endowed with its name anterior to 1776,
but it was not laid off in regular lots, streets and alleys
till a later period, perhaps not before 1781. The streets,
of which there are seven, intersect each other at right
angles^ — three east and west, and four north and south,
with an equal number of alleys running in the same direc
tions. The streets are sixty feet wide and the alleys six
teen. The main street is Macadamized (as are several
others partially), with brick pavements on either side, from
one end of the town to the other. The population is about
fifteen hundred. There is no place of its size in the State
more noted for fashion, taste and morality, with the usual
proportion of loafers and gentlemen of leisure ; and like
all other small places where there is or has been consid
erable wealth, a right smart sprinkling of what some
people would term aristocracy, but which, in reality, is
nothing more than a decent observance of the convention
alities of life. Many of the private residences as well as
public buildings are of brick, large and tasty, and a num
ber of them three-stories high. They are generally neat.

104 WILBUEN WATERS.
some of them approaching elegance, and but few dilapi
dated, though one here and there may look as if it had
been rocked by an earthquake, or had danced to the piping
of a hurricane, at some period in its history. We claim
to have one of the most capacious and convenient court
houses in the Commonwealth, and by some it is considered
a model in architecture, with its massive pillars and tower
ing steeple, though the writer must confess that he cannot
exactly see it in that light.
We are a great church-going people, and have a variety
of denominations. For instance, we have two Methodist
Churches — Episcopal and Protestant — a Baptist, Presby
terian, Protestant Episcopal and Roman Catholic, and for
good measure we have thrown in a Swedenborgian Temple,
and a few Lutherans, Universalists and Christian Baptists
"laying around loose." In all these Churches are regular
services, except the Baptist, which is rather too far from
water to be very vigorous, and the Swedenborgian. We
have three large and well-kept hotels, nine variety stores,
two drug stores, two fancy stores, two or three drinking
saloons, half a dozen confectionaries, an agricultural ware
house, a bakery, a billiard saloon, an iron foundry, three
or four blacksmith and as many wheelwright shops, two
tanneries, two or three saddle and harness establishments,
any number of carpenters, painters, shoemakers, tailors,
brick and stone masons, a large brick town-hall, a library
association and reading-room, in which may be found all
the leading literature of the day, and last, though not
least, two of the best weekly papers within a circuit of a
dozen miles, and a job office. The town was incorporated

WILBURN WATERS. J 05
by legislative enactment many years ago, and, city-like,
has a mayor and common council, who maintain the peace
and dignity of the corporation, and periodically enforce
the hog law.
We have, as is the case in all places where people get
sick and die, or fall out with and wrong each other, a redun
dancy of doctors and lawyers — five or six of the former
and a baker's dozen of the latter — none of them, probably,
making fortunes very rapidly by their professions. There
seems to be no possible chance for a diminution of lawyers
shortly, but there is a bare probability that some one of
the doctors may take a do.se of his own medicine one of
these days, and if so, the jig is certainly up with him.
One of our citizens (Judge Johnston) is a United States
Senator, aud we have a score or less who would love to be
in the House of Representatives. And right here it might
be said we have three banks, all as stubborn as mules since
the Legislature has limited interest to six per cent., two or
three insurance coinpanies, a machine shop operated by
steam, two tin and copper-smith establishments, a photo
graph gallery, two barber shops, and the biggest sort of a
colored school.
But the chief pride and boast of Abingdon are, or
ought to be, its educational facilities — its schools and col
leges. Within the village limits there are three first-class
female colleges. The oldest, and probably best sustained,
is Martha Washington, under the patronage of the Metho
dist Episcopal Church South, and directed and controlled
by a board of trustees appointed, originally, by the Legis
lature. The building and grounds are of the most elabo-

106 WILBUEN WATEES.
rate aud magnificent order, unsurpassed for beauty and
convenience in the South or out of it. The grounds com
prise some twelve acres, and are gorgeously ornamented
with trees, and shrubs and flowers. There is more than a
mile of continuous winding walks for the young ladies to
promenade in, all tastefully bordered with flowering shrub
bery. Fruits in variety, including grapes and berries in
lavish abundance, grow in all parts of the grounds, at all
times in their season accessible to the inmates; and the
young ladies seem, in their beautiful and well-ordered
"home-school," to be as happy as the first inhabitants of
Eden before that snake came along! The buildings are
extensive, convenient and imposing, and capable of ac
commodating from one hundred and twenty-five to one
hundred and fifty hoarders. The faculty is equal to any
anywhere; and if the writer were young again, he might
be bewildered at the sight of the bright eyes, sunny
tresses, and fairy-like forms that sport and gambol amid
the flowers of the campus on calm summer evenings.
Some of the young men are usually crazy, but they dare
not pass the enclosure except to see a sister or a cousin —
and they all have cousins, of course — and even then nearly
every tree and bush and flower seems to say "thus far shalt
thou go and no farther."
The Stonewall Jackson Institute, under the patronage
of the Presbyterian Church, is yet in its infancy, compa-
ritively, but promises to become popular as it becomes
older and better known. The buUdings, formerly the
residence of General John B. Floyd, ex-Governor of Vir
ginia and Secretary of War in President Buchanan's Cab-

WILBUEN WATEES. 107
inet, are large, handsome and well arranged, and the
grounds, though less extensive than those of Martha W^ash-
ington, are, nevertheless, extensive enough for usefulness
and pleasure, and are handsomely embellished. It also
has an able faculty, is admirably managed, and is doing
a glorious work for the present as well as the future.
The Catholic Convent, called "Academy of Visitation,
B. V. M.," is a large building, with some three acres of
ornamental grounds attached, and a willow-bordered stream
flowing through the center. It is also in its infancy, con
ducted by a Mother Superior and a corps of Sisters, has
made a favorable impression upon the public, and is lib
erally patronized for a young institution in an almost
exclusively Protestant community.
In addition to the foregoing institutions for the education
of females, Abingdon has a very excellent Male Academy,
and a few miles away, in a retired and beautiful valley,
Emory and Henry College, which grades as high as any
in the South, except, perhaps, the Universities. Before the
war this College had an annual matriculation of froni two
to three hundred, and even now, in the impoverished and
still partially unsettled state of affairs, has within its walls
more than one hundred students; but a chapter will be
devoted to this institution in the progress of this work.
If there is any more picturesque country than that
which surrounds Abingdon, the writer has never been so
fortunate as to see it — that is, according to his idea of
the graind and beautiful in nature. For a mile or two
around the landscape is undulating, interspersed with
bolder hills, generally wooded, standing out like islands

108 WILBURN WATEES.
in a storm-tossed sea. During spring and summer the
whole face of the earth, except cultivated fields, seems to
be covered with a carpet of green irregularly figured with
wild flowers — a rural picture with a frame-work of moun
tains.

CHAPTER XVIII.
A BRIEF HISTORY OF WASHINGTON COUNTY, ITS
ORGANIZATION, ETC.
Washington county is a part of the territory of which
George Washington said in one of his patriotic appeals in
the darkest hour of the Revolution — "If the armies of
George the Third drive me from the lowlands, I will plant
my banner on the mountains of West Augusta, where I
will draw around me the brave men who will yet achieve
our independence."
The Commonwealth and this county were organized the
same year — 1776. The first court for Washington county
was held at Black's Fort, now Abingdon, on the 28th of
January, 1777. The following gentlemen were appointed
justices by Patrick Henry, the first Governor, on the 21st
of December, 1776 : Arthur Campbell, William Camp
bell, Evan Shelby, David Smith, WUliam Edmondson,
John Campbell, Joseph Martin, Alexander Buchanan,
James Dysart, John Kinkead, John Anderson, James
Montgomery, John Coulter, John Snody, George Black
burn and Thomas Martin. William Campbell and Joseph
Martin administered the oath of justice of the peace and
of a justice of the county court in chancery to Arthur Camp
bell, and he afterwards administered it to William Camp
bell, William Edmondson, John Campbell, Joseph Mar
tin, John Kinkead, John Anderson, James Montgomery,

110 WILBUEN WATEES.
John Snody and George Blackburn. James Dysart was
the first sheriff, appointed by Governor Henry on the 21st
of December, 1776, and David Campbell was at the same
time appointed clerk of the court.
At the next term of the court William Campbell was
appointed by the Governor lieutenant-colonel of the county,
and Arthur Campbell lieutenant.
On the 29th of January, 1777, Evan Shelby was ap
pointed colonel of militia. The first constables were
James Wharton, James Laughlin, William Lean, Robert
Brown, Christopher Acklin, John Fane and James Steel.
Ephriam was the first Commonwealth's attorney.
At the same court liquors were rated as follows : Rum,
16s. per gallon; rye whiskey, 8s.; corn whiskey, 4s. A
bowl of rum toddy, with loaf sugar, 2s.; with brown
sugar. Is.
Luke Bowyer was the first lawyer accorded as having
taken the oath to practice, and Robert Preston was the first
county surveyor, having his commission from the masters
of William and Mary College.
The land on which Abingdon is built was given to the
county by Thomas Walker, Joseph Black and Samuel
Briggs, in April, 1777.
The first grand jury was impaneled at the May term in
1777, and consisted of the following gentlemen: Robert
Craig, Robert Buchanan, Andrew Buchanan, Samuel Buch
anan, Robert Edmondson, William Kennedy, Andrew
Colvill, Samuel Briggs, John Sharp, Alexander Breckin
ridge, Andrew Edmondson, George Finley, William Ed
mondson, David Gatewood and John Loveless. The

WILBUEN WATEES. Ill
only presentments they made were as follows: "Against
Margaret Drumman for having a bastard child, and James
Bryant for not having the road in good repair he is sur
veyor of."
At the March term in 1779 it was ordered the charges
the current year for good rum should be 4s. per gallon ;
full-proof whiskey, 2s.; warm dinner, 15c.; cold dinner,
2c.; good breakfast, 12c.; oats and corn, 4c. per gallon,
and lodging, with clean sheets, 2c.
The William Campbell above spoken of was General
William Campbell of King's mountain fame, and David
Campbell, the first clerk, was the uncle of the late Gov
ernor David Campbell, and the brother of Arthur and
John Campbell connected with the organization of the
county. Washington county was the first spot of earth named
in honor of the Fatjier of his Country. The great high
way from east to -west, and which passes through the centre
of Abingdon, was known originally as "Boon's Trace."
and is the identical route blazed out by the great pioneer
of that name in his first expedition from North Carolina
to Kentucky, a route that had been traveled for ages be
fore by elk and buffalo, and which subsequently became
one of the principal war-paths of the red man in his pre
datory incursions towards the border.
In the early settlement of the country there was a block
house near Abingdon, where Captain Frank Findlay's
mill now stands, called Black's Fort, into which the
familes of the scattered settlers gathered when alarmed by
the approach of Indians. The very year of the organiza-

112 WILBURN WATEES. ,
tion of the county, and upon the very day of the promul
gation of the Declaration of Independence, the Indians
made a stealthy marth into the settlement, caught a small
party of settlers on their way from the fort to the clearing
of Par.«!on Cummings, two miles off, killed one of them,
and the grave in which his dust reposes, marked by a rude
stone with the inscription, "Henry Creswell, killed July
4, 1776," formed the nucleus of the village cemetery,
now peopled by the dead of three generations.
As stated in a previous chapter, the hill upon which
Abingdon is located was first settled by a man by the
name of Black, then a Dr. Smith, and these were followed
by the Campbells, Cummingses, Pipers, Conns, Prestons,
Whites, Craigs, Walkers, McCuUochs, Edmondsons, Low-
rys, Findlays, Smyths and others, many of whose descend
ants are still in the county, and among the most prominent
citizens. Those who are familiar with the history of the battle of
King's mountain, on the line between the Carolinas — the
battle which, as was claimed at the time, turned the tide of
the Revolution in favor of the Colonial arms — will remem
ber the name of William Campbell, the senior officer in com
mand on that occasion. He was a citizen of this county, and
was the grandfather of the Hon. William C. Preston,
formerly Senator in Congress from South Carolina, as also
of the present General John T. Preston of Richmond, of
the first wife of General Wade Hampton, of Mrs. General
Floyd, of the wives of Rev. Robert J. Breckinridge, Gov
ernor McDowell and General Carrington. A large portion
of the gallant men who followed General Campbell to

WILBUEN WATEES. 113
that last bloody but victorious field of the Revolution,
followed him in their hunting shirts and moccasins, and
with their long, flint-lock rifles, were from this county —
the "Mountains of West Augusta" — and their names are
preserved in its archives.
The writer will here give an incident illustrating the
patriotism and daring of General Campbell aud his men
prior to their march to King's mountain. There is a beau
tiful little valley known by- the name of "Black Lick,"
nestled among the mountains of Wythe county, which,
being remote from the highways and environed by unin
habited forests, afforded shelter for a number of Tories, who
made frequent forays upon the neighboring settlements, and
then concealed themselves in this remote and quiet retreat.
Their hiding-place becoming discovered. General Camp
bell's men surrounded it and captured about a dozen, and
hung them upon two whiteoaks, which were still standing
a few years ago, spared by the ^woodman's ax for the
righteous office they had performed, and were long known
by the name of the "Tory trees."
Abingdon, although more than one hundred miles west
of the Alleghanies, is one of the oldest towns in the State,
and is entitled to some notoriety as the l)irth-place of seve
ral distinguished men. Washington county, therefore, as
well as Abingdon, will have some claims upon future his
torians, if the "rebellious" nature of the present genera
tion has not obliterated the glorious deeds of their fathers,
as some of the claimants of "high moral ideas" some
times sneei'ingly intimate.
8

114 WILBUEN WATEES.
Abingdon, remote and modest as it is, has furnished the
Old Dominion with three Governors, to wit: Messrs.
Wyndham Robertson, David Campbell and John B. Floyd
— all of whom acquitted themselves with fidelity and
honor, and retired from the station with the confidence
and esteem of the people. The first of the honored trio
still lives among us — the others have been gathered to
their fathers — and if great and good men should again be
called to the councils of the nation, W^yndham Robertson
is still in the vigor of intellect, and has the head and the
heart to "render the State some service." (But right here
the writer will venture to express the opinion in paren
thesis, that he has but little hope that our rapidly declin
ing Republican institutions will ever again be presided
over by a man of expansive mind and capacious heart.)

CHAPTER XIX.
GENERAL CAMPBELL'S ADVENTURE WITH A DARING TORY.
The preceding chapter gives some account of General
William Campbell, who was a very prominent patriot in
this part of Virginia before and during the Revolution.
When that long struggle commenced, he was living at
Aspinville, near the Seven-Mile Ford, now owned by his
great grandson, Mr. Charles Preston. At the time of the
event to be related in this chapter, he was Lieutenant-
Colonel of the county, and had, for the purpose of detect
ing Tories, given notice that all citizens were required to
appear before him within a specified period to take the
oath of allegiance to the young'' Republic. This incensed
the few Tories then living near him to such a degree that
they stole his horses, destroyed his property, and committed
all sorts of depredations upon him whenever an oppor
tunity occurred; and one of them, whose name the writer
has heard, but has forgotten, bolder and more desperate
than the rest, went so far as to openly declare that he would
take a good horse wherever he could find it, and was sup
posed to be the author of certain written notices that had
been posted through the neighborhood, warning General
Campbell that, if he didn't desist from his persecution of
the loyal adherents of George the Third, a terrible calamity
would befall him, either in the loss of his property or his
life.

116 WILBUEN WATEES.
On a quiet and beautiful Sabbath in the spring-time of
the year 1780, General Campbell, accompanied by his wife
(who, by the way, was the sister of Patrick Henry) and
several of their neighbors, attended religious .services
at a Presbyterian house of worship which stood near the
residence of the late Captain James P. Strother, known as
the Meek Place, in the upper end of this county. As
they were returning to their homes, they happened to be
conversing about the audacity of the Tory who had been
so bold and defiant in his declarations, and suspected of
having posted the notices above referred to; and just as
they arrived at the top of the hill, a short distance west of
the present residence of Colonel Hiram A. Greever, they
observed a man on horseback on the opposite hill coining
towards them. General Campbell was riding beside his
wife, with an infant on before him. One of the company
remarked that the individual meeting them was the Tory
of whom they had been speaking, probably now on a
horse-stealing expedition, as he was observed to be carry
ing a rope halter in his hand. Hearing this. General
Campbell, without halting, handed the infant over to its
mother, and dashed out in front. Seeing this movement,
and recognizing the man he so much feared and hated, the
Tory wheeled his horse and started back at quite a rapid
gait, pursued at full speed by General Campbell and one
of the gentlemen in company, whose name was Thompson.
Never, it may be presumed, either before or since, has such
a dashing and exciting race been witnessed upon that long
level between the residences of Colonels Greever and Beattie.
As they reached the branch at the base of the hill a little

WILBURN WATERS. 117
west of Colonel Beattie's, General Campbell dashed up
alongside of the fleeing Tory, who, seeing that he would
be caught, turned short to the right down the branch and
plunged into the river. As he struck the water. General
Campbell, who had left his companions in the rear, leaped
in beside him, grasped the Tory's holsters and threw them
into the stream, and then dragged him from his horse into
the water.
At this moment Mr. Thompson rode up, when they took
their prisoner out on the bank, and held what may be
termed a drum-head court. The Tory, bad as he was, had
the virtue of being a brave, candid man, at once acknow
ledged the truth of the charges preferred against him, and
boldly declared his defiance and determination to take
horses wherever he could find them. But he was mistaken
in his man, for in less than ten minutes he was dangling
by the halter he carried from the limb of a large sycamore
that stood upon the bank of the river, the stump of which
was still to be seen a few years ago, and may be there yet
for aught the writer knows to the contrary.
This is the stuff the men of King's mountain were made
of, and to further illustrate their Spirit and determination,
it may not be inappropriate to relate an incident that
occurred in the life of Squire John McCulIoch, who lived
and died on the farm now owned by the heirs of A. R.
Mallicote, Esq., and whose father fell by his side in that
terrible battle. Many years ago the late General Francis
Preston, who married the only child of General Campbell
sent his son Thomas, then a lad of some fifteen years, to
Squii;e McCuUoch, to ask him to write out such incidents

118 WILBUEN WATEES.
of this battle as might have made an impression on his
mind. He very cheerfully complied, and as he handed
the youth his written statement, the latter, like most boys
of his age, loved to hear stories of march and battle, and
asked him if he didn't feel frightened when he heard the
bullets whistling around his head, and saw the gleam of
the British bayonets as Ferguson's Regulars dashed down
the mountain-side toward them. The old gentleman replied :
" Well, Tom, I don't remember exactly how I felt, but if
I wasn't frightened, I was mightily excited. I kept my
bullets in my mouth so as to load quick, and when the
fight was over there was one left, and I had chawed it till
it was as flat as a ninepence. I don't know whether it was
fear or excitement — may be, a little of both."

CHAPTER XX.
SOUTHWESTERN -VIRGINIA — ITS TOPOGRAPHY AND RESOURCES.
Southwestern Virginia comprises all that portion of the
State running down, wedge-shaped, between Kentucky on
the north and North Carolina and Tennessee on the south,
and reaching from the Alleghanies in the east to Cumber
land Gap in the west. This area is some two hundred and
thirty miles in length, with an average width of about one
hundred miles, and embraces fifteen counties, beginning
at the Alleghany, as follows: Montgomery, Pulaski, Giles,
Carroll, Grayson, Bland, Wythe, Tazewell, Buchanan,
Smyth, Washington, Russell, Wise, Scott and Lee. Of
these counties, Carroll, Grayson and Washington join
North Carolina; Washington, Scott and Lee join Ten
nessee; and Buchanan, Wise and Lee join Kentucky.
Montgomery, Pulaski, Giles, Grayson and Wythe are in
what is known as the Valley of New River; Smyth and
Washington in the Valley of Holston ; Russell and Scott
in the Valley of Clinch, and Lee in Powell's Valley. The
balance are peculiarly mountain counties, interspersed with
irregular hills and narrow valleys. It may be more cor
rect to say that the several valleys named are in the coun
ties, and not the counties in the valleys, for the reason
that the counties are much larger than the portions of the
valleys that traverse them.
The Old Dominion, taken all together — Tidewater,

120 WILBURN WATERS.
Piedmont and Transmountain — is an empire within itself,
embracing all temperatures, from the semi-torrid of Cape
Henry to the semi-frigid of Mount Airy, and the fruits of
all climates, from the figs and oranges of one extreme to
the hard and acrid productions of the other.
Southwestern Virginia, except in climate and fruits, is
also an empire of smaller dimensions — an empire in all
the natural resources that any people could or ought to
desire to make them independent, prosperous and happy.
Take the counties of Montgomery and Pulaski, for instance,
and they have water-power sufficient to propel all the
machinery in half the States, and coal-fields broad enough
to supply the population of half the Union with fuel.
The mountains of Carroll and Grayson are pregnant with
copper and iron, the outcroppings of which are seen all
over their rugged sides. Wythe is rich in iron, coal and
lead ; Smyth and Washington need only adequate transpor
tation to glut half the markets of the country with salt
and gypsum; and Wise, Russell, Scott and Lee have any
quantity of superior coal, and the blus-grass of Tazewell,
Bland and Buchanan would fatten the cattle on a thousand
hills. In a word, every county in the limits named has
coal and iron in abundance, and most t)f them a great
variety of other valuable deposits.
With rare exceptions this whole country abounds with
limestone, and much of it pf that desirable character that
is constantly decomposing a'nd keeping the soil perpetually
fertile. It is also inferior to no section of the Union, of
the same extent, for grass, and hence peculiarly adapted to
stock-raising, wool-growing and grazing generally, and

WILBURN WATERS. 121
the whole of it magnificently watered and wooded. No
country under the sun is blessed with a more genial sum
mer climate, purer water or grander scenery.
The foregoing is the merest outline of Southwestern
Virginia as a whole, and the remainder of this chapter
will be devoted to a more minute description of Wash
ington county. It is comprised within an area of about
six hundred square miles, with a population of from eigh
teen to twenty thousand. It is drained by three streams
denominated rivers, running from east to west, with innu
merable smaller streams running at right angles with and
into the three larger. The rivers are the three several
forks of the Holston, which, coming together in Ten
nessee, some five or six miles west of the State line, form
the Holston, which, after the confluence of a much smal
ler stream twenty miles below Knoxville, loses its name
and takes that of "Tennessee," and becomes a broad and
beautiful river before its waters mingle with those of the
Ohio at Paducah, Kentucky.
Washington county is belted from east to west by a suc
cession of ridges and valleys. Its southern border is the
Iron, or more properly Holston mountain, and its Northern
Clinch mountain. These are about twenty miles apart,
and between them are six regular ranges of hills, with as
many valleys. The middle range is called Walker's
mountain, at the southern base of which is the broadest
and richest valley, in which Abingdon is located, and
along which the Virginia and Tennessee railroad winds
its surpentine way. Walker's mountain divides the waters,
those rising on the north side flowing into the North Fork

122 WILBURN WATERS.
of Holston, and those on the south side into the Middle
and South Forks.
It is said above that all the smaller streams flow at
right angles with the three larger, and hense transversely
with all the ridges and valleys. It is a remarkable
feature that not one of them flows along the valleys or
parallel with the ridges, but dash straight across, seeming
to have worn gaps for themselves through interposing
barriers. Their name is legion. It may be taken for
granted, therefore, that this county is most bountifully
watered, and there is scarcely a farm without a spring or
running stream of some sort, and the writer is acquainted
with one of six hundred acres within five miles of Abing
don, that has upon it sixty-five pure, bold, never-failing
springs. It must not be understood that, because the country is
scarred and belted by so many ridges, that it is not arable.
On the contrary, a very large proportion of it is arable,
the virgin soil of the hills being equal to that of the val
leys, and either of them equal, at least, to the soil of any
other part of the Commonwealth. Many of the hills are
of course too steep to till conveniently, but as grass springs
spontaneously wherever the undergrowth is removed, they
are among the most valuable grazing lands.
Another peculiarity of the country is, that there are but
few gullies or old-field pines, and it would be about as
easy to find a kangaroo as a tick, though Dr. Franklin
said' when he traveled through the State in its early settle
ment, that he saw little else than "hogs, dogs, fleas and
democrats," and these are still indigenous and abundant.

WILBUEN WATERS. 123
Nature has done a great deal for Southwestern Virginia,
and art and enterprise but very little. Although iron ore
abounds in every part of it, but few have made the man
ufacture of iron a .success. Want of capital, perhaps, may
have been one reason for the failure to make it pay. There
can now be no reason, surely, with the redundancy of
timber, coal, water-power, and cheap labor, why the iron
business should not make millionaires and nabobs in Vir
ginia as well as in Maryland and Pennsylvania, if man
aged in the same way.
But the pleasantest and quietest way to live well and
gradually accumulate in this country, is by farming and
grazing. Sparsely populated as it is, even small farmers
may have the advantage of extensive ranges, and most of
them, with this aid, can feed a greater number of cattle
than a casual observer would suppose. This is mentioned
for the benefit of young farmers in the older States who
have iiot land of their own or the means to get it, and it
will not require much calculation to demonstrate that it
would be far more sensible to come here and purchase im
proved lands at from ten to twenty-five dollars per acre,
than to slave on where lands uo better cannot be bought
at less than from fifty to one hundred dollars per acre.
This proposition needs no argument, and the subject is left
with those whom it may interest.

CHAPTER XXI.
THE SOILS OF WASHINGTON COUNTY — ^PRODUCKTS- ANCIENT
AND MODERN MODE OF FARMING.
The soils of Washington county are of various quali
ties, but all lie upon a stratum of tough yellow or red
clay, and hence wear well, are easily improved, retain fer
tilizers well, are adapted to all kinds of grasse^/and but
seldom wash. The best soils are upon north hill-sides and
sugar-tree bottoms, which is a dark mould of alluvial
appearance, and admirably adapted to the growth of corn
and grass. Another variety is the gray or gravelly soil,
better adapted to wheat, rye and tobacco. It is a charac- •
teristic of most of the ridges, that while the south side is
of a lighter color and more or less gravelly, the north
side is almost invariably a dark mould, covered with a
heavy growth of weeds, very loose, exceedingly rich, and
decidedly superior to other lands for corn and root crops.
These hill-sides are a godsend to "sang-diggers," and
abound with Indian turnips, mayapples, sweet and bitter
sarsaparilla, rattle-weed, spikenard and copper-head snakes.
There is no part of the county that is not naturally
adapted to grass, and hence it is naturally fertile. So
much for the character of the soil in a nut shell.
The productions of the county are all the cerials,
grasses and roots, with respectable crops of tobacco. The
staple is corn, though large crops of oats are raised.
Being a stock-raising section, the most profitable crops are

WILBURN WATERS. J 25
of course corn, rye, oats and hay. Wheat is very uncer
tain, not "hitting," as it is termed, every year, but many
think the failure may be traced to defective tillage rather
than the rigorsOf winter or the ravages of insects. The
corn crops rarely average more than tweUty-five bushels
per acre, though some farms yield forty to fifty. Take
the County by and large, and one season with another, it is
doubtful if the average is more than eight bushels per
acre, yet the best farmers, in favorable seasons, make from
twenty to thirty. Rye does somewhat better — only because
it is hardier and better adapted to poor soil — and probably
averages from ten to fifteen bushels per acre, and oats from
twenty-five to forty. An ordinary crop of hay is about
two tons, and if extra, three tons per acre, particularly the
variety known as evergreen, which grows tall and thick
upon ordinary land. Buckwheat rarely fails, and is of
superior quality — and it may be said in passing that it
makes the best whisky in the world. All root crops are
prolific, and most of them yield generously in any of our
soils, if properly planted and attended to.
And now, having very briefly alluded to the character
and productions of our soils, the writer approaches the
difficult and delicate part of the programme with misgiv
ings and the fear that he may not be able to do it justice.
He has reference to the former as well as present manner
of farming. The last he hopes to be able to man ange in
some sort, but the first may command a power of imagi
nation and force of language he very much fears he does
not possess.
When the writer first made his home in these moun
tains, forty-odd years ago, many of the farmers prepared

126 WILBURN WATERS.
the forest during the winter for the corn crop of the fol
lowing spring. This they did by belting the heavy timber
aud chopping out the undergrowth. But little grubbing
was done, and the roots were left in the ground to be torn
up by the "buU-tongiie," which was the first implement
honored with the privilege of preparing the virgin soil
for a crop. Often might be seen in one of these "clear
ings" a sovereign with his mule and bull-tongue, toiling,
swearing and sweating, as his rude implement, striking a
hidden root, would toss him into the air, make him dance
as many jigs as a pair of frozen breeches on a clothes-liue
aud throw his mule backward on his beam-ends as sud
denly as if he had met a thunderbolt in hi.s way. Such
farmers, however, managed to worry along by .scratching
the earth about as deep as a turkey hen would in search of
food for her brood, raise a family of eight or ten white-
headed, bare-footed, long-shirted children, and about as
many dogs, produce a crop of stalks fifteen feet high and
about as big as pipe-stems, with ears standing as straight
up as those of a rabbit, and about the size of a dipped
tallow candle. The same ground, if properly cleared and
cultivated, would have produced from forty to fifty bushels
per acre.
Another class, who had gone through a like experience
years before, had quit clearing, but were still cultivating
corn in the same ground in which they had been raising
it for a score of years consecutively, and when at last
mother earth became indignant at such ruinous treament,
and refused to respond, they would conclude to "rotate"
with wheat or rye, which was sown broadcast among the
standing stalks, shoveled in with the same everlasting mule

WILBURN WATERS. 127
and bull-tongue, and then left to take its chances. The
consequence was, if it didn't freeze out they would have
enough to make a few cakes and pies for Christmas, but if
it did, they only had their "trouble for their pains," didn't
let on that they cared a copper, and lived on in hope.
The writer has known some men — and by the way there
are "a few of the same sort left" — who raised large fami
lies in log cabins twelve to sixteen feet square, by culti
vating from five to a dozen acres of corn on steep hill
sides with nothing upon earth but a hoe. Corn was all
they cared about cultivating, with a few beans, Shanghai
cabbage and pumpkins, the latter kept from rolling away
by being scotched on the lower side with a chunk or a
stone. The rifle kept them in meat, and the ax felled the
bee-tree and filled their gourds with honey. There never
was a happier people than these dwellers upon the hill
sides, who seemed to have no concern beyond the present
moment. They would toil at the hoe-handle ail day long —
both male and female — dance the livelong night on a
puncheon floor by the light of a pine-knot, and it was no
uncommon thing to hear a robust rosy-cheeked wood-
nymph exclaim at one of their happy frolics : " Here, Sal,
hold my baby while I run a reel with this strange feller!"
The foregoing are imperfect outlines of farming and
living in the hills forty-odd years ago, but great changes
have taken place, although most of the farmers are still
behind the march of improvement and try to cultivate too
much land. Were they to limit themselves to half the
usual quaiixity, they would very nearly double the yield
with half the labor, and improve instead of exhaust their
lands.

128 WILBUEN WATEES.
The most successful farmers in this country are those
who have circumscribed their operations and adopted the
rotation system. The best farmer with whom the writer
is acquainted, turns under the sward of the third year in
the fall, plowing deep and subsoiling. In the spring he
replows and harrows, checks four feet, plants as early in
April as the season will allow, and works his corn (two
stalks to the hill) four times before and once after harvest.
As soon as it is sufficiently matured it is cut up and
shocked, the ground again plowed and harrowed, the wheat
sown with a drill, and, before the first freeze comes, well
rolled. The next fall it is again put in wheat and grass,
or allowed to rest till the following spring and then sown
iu oats and grass, and not cultivated again for three or
four years. During the cultivation, the corn, when some
six inches high, is primed with plaster, salt and plaster are
sown on the wheat, and plaster upon the grass the spring
following, more especially if it be clover. This course
has acted like a charm on the farm alluded to, which, from
being one of the poorest in the county a dozen years ago,
is now one of the richest.
The writer has thus given specimens of the worst and
and best farming in this part of the country, and enough,
he imagines, to give the reader a partial glimpse as to
what sort of a country and what manner of people we
have away out here two thousand feet above tidewater and
five hundred miles from the sea — a country where fruits
and flowers grow spontaneously, where the people are
honest, intelligent and generous, where contagious epi
demics and malaries never come, and where all who choose
may always have enough to eat and to wear.

CHAPTER XXIL
A BRIEF HISTORY OP THE SALTWORKS OF SOUTHWESTERN
VIRGINIA — THEIR MANAGEMENT, REVENUES, ETC.
The writbr hopes he may be able to invest the subject of
this chapter with some interest to that portion of his readers
who may have a fondness for studying out and contempla
ting the wondrous prodigality of Nature in filling the earth
with treasures, hidden and revealed, and the grand design of
the Maker and Builder of the universe in the equitable
and impartial distribution of His blessings among the
dwellers upon His footstool.
Without taking a wider or more comprehensive range,
this can be abundantly illustrated by the valuable deposits
in the hills and valleys of this mountain region, to which
it was almost impossible in its earlier settlement to trans
port many of the prime and indispensable necessaries of
life. For instance, the first settlers could not do without
iron, and to have hauled it across the mountains would
have made it almost as valuable as gold, thus placing it
beyond the reach of the pioneer. So with regard to lead,
and salt, and gypsum, and lime, and many other articles
of difficult and costly transportation. Hence the pro
visions of Providence have placed all these within the
means and reach of these people. These provisions are
not all the manifestations of His wisdom and His benevo-
9

130 WILBUEN WATEES.
lence toward His erring and wayward children, if the
writer may be allowed to moralize a little before settling
down on the salt subject. We see the equal distribution
of God's blessings in all things and everywhere. In the
tropics, beneath the gorgeous flower that lades the passing
zephyr with its fragrance, lurks the most venomous reptile.
The bird of sweetest song and most brilliant plumage
sports upon the shrub that exhales the deadliest poison.
So here; in this mountain-girt region, where, to some ex
tent, the people are denied some of the higher order of
luxuries, the earth is pregnant with all that is absolutely
necessary to their comfort and prosperity. If they cannot
pluck oranges and pineapples, they are not subject to the
miasmas of the everglades — if they cannot feast upon
melons and oysters, they have not the chills and fevers of
the seaboard.
But to the subject. The Saltworks are sixteen miles
northeast of Abingdon, and so near the line dividing
the counties of Washington and Smyth, that the two prin
cipal wells, one in each county, are not more than twenty
paces apart. These Saltworks are situated in an exceed
ingly fertile valley, embracing some three hundred acres,
entirely surrounded by hills — some of them very high and
precipitous. They form a natural amphitheatre, and from
innumerable indications, this valley, or hopper-like depres
sion in the hills, is supposed to have been a lake at some
period in the world's history. Some thirty-eight years
ago the writer was acquainted with several aged persons
who had known the place anterior to the discovery of the
subterranean saline stream from which the salt is now

WILBUEN WATEES. 131
manufactured, and when the valley was an immense "lick,"
frequented by herds of elk, buffalo, and other herbivorous
animals. Before the time, however, of the old persons
referred to, salt had been manufactured around what might
have been the margin of the lake, perhaps by the aborigi
nes, and in the first settlement of the country persons came
considerable distances with their sleds and kettles, and
made a sufficiency of salt in their simple way for their own
consumption. That this beautiful little valley of three hundred acres
was once a lake, is evident, not only from the deep alluvial
soil, but from the fossils and petrifactions found there from
time to time below the surface. During the construction
of the railroad to the works in 1856, many large bones
were found in an excavation, among which were the limbs of
an animal much larger than those of ao elephant. Several
of these limbs were found, together with a jaw-bone and
several teeth, some of the latter weighing several pounds —
all found some six or eight feet below the surface.
Near the close of the last century, William King, a
native of the Emerald isle, made the first successful experi
ment in digging for salt water at this lick. The larger
portion of the lick belonged to an old English survey, and
joined the possessions of General Russell, coming to him
through his wife, who had been the wife and widow of
General William Campbell. Mr. King had been a pedler,
and in his perigrinations through the country, had observed
and examined the salt which had been formed upon the
surface by evaporation. Reflecting upon this, he reasoned
himself to the conclusion that there must be a subterra-

132 WILBUEN WATERS.
nean saline stream, and doubting his own pecuniary ability
to purchase the land and experiment, he tried to persuade
General Russell to do so. The latter, not being able to
see as far and as hopefully into the earth as the former,
declined, particularly as he already had thousands of acres
of unproductive lands under onerous taxation. Mr. King
could not shake off the conviction (that there was an im
mense fortune for somebody under the surface of that bog,
and he determined to risk the investment, even though he
should lose the accumulations [of years of toil. Having
some means to spare, he purchased a small boundary (some
fifty acres), at a nominal price, which had previously been
offered for a pony and rifle gun, for which he paid at
least half a dozen times, to as many individuals who fab
ricated claims. He preferred this to the trouble and ex
pense of law suits.
After suitable preparation he commenced digging, and
cribbing the shaft as the work progressed. He employed
several hands, and worked on, day after day, and to the
depth of one hundred and ninety feet, and still no water.
With his faith still strong and unwavering, he determined
to prosecute the work, but just at this point, the hands
going to work one morning discovered that the bottom of
the well had fallen out during the night, and that the brine
had risen nearly to the top. This being communicated to
Mr. King, who was living in Abingdon, he knew that his
fortune was made, and forthwith prepared his furnaces for
evaporation. From that day to this there has been no per
ceptible diminution of the water, yielding, it is estimated,
ninety-five per cent, of the whitest, purest and finest salt

WILBURN WATERS. 133
manufactured anywhere in the United States. It is even
finer than the Liverpool article, and took the first premium
at a New York State Fair some few years ago. While it
.takes seventy gallons of the Kanawha brine, and forty of
the Onandaigue, it requires only twenty gallons from the
King wells to make one bushel of salt.
Mr. King did not live many years to enjoy his good
fortune, but long enough to become immensely wealthy,
and to do a vast amount of good by his benevolence, libe
rality and enterprise. Had he lived to be three-score and
ten, he would have been the richest man on the American
continent. He died in 1808 at the age of thirty-eight
years, and- then owned not only the Saltworks unincum
bered, but a vast amount of real estate in Abingdon and
Washington county, with forty-odd mercantile establish
ments at all the more prominent points between Baltimore
and Nashville. He married Miss Mary Trigg, who having
no issue, he bequeathed his property to William King, his
nephew, provided he married a daughter of his brother-
in-law, William Trigg, or to a son of William Trigg, pro
vided he married a daughter of his brother James King.
As the stipulation could not or was not complied with, the
property 'reverted to his heirs-at-law, whose name was
legion — for what rich man ever yet died intestate without
a multitude of heirs !
General Russell having also died, and his property ad
joining having descended to the heirs of his wife — General
Preston and his family — they sunk a well into the same
Jiidden stream or lake, and both wells are still in use, and
though pumped by engines, the water has never been

134 WILBURN WATEES.
known to diminish. The combined property is now valued
at from one to two million dollars, and is probably worth
a great deal more — indeed, its value can scarcely be esti
mated. Most of the heirs having parted with their in
terests, it belongs, principally, to three gentlemen, who
were comparatively poor a few years ago, but who are
now millionaires, and have added thousands of acres to
the original estates. Aud what is better, they are liberal,
public-spirited gentlemen, who seem to have acquired the
philanthropy and benevolence of Mr. King with his es
tate. The reader may arrive at some estimate of the estate
when he is informed that it comprises some ten to twelve
thousand acres of land, much of it equal to the Mississippi
bottoms, the ine;shaustible supply of brine, from which is
manufactured from two to three thousand bushels of salt
per day, and which could be increased to almost any
amount — it having been made during the war, when the
works supplied the whole Confederacy, from the Potomac
to the Mississippi, at the rate of ten thousand bushels per
day, or between three and four million per year, without
perceptible diminution in quantity or quality. The manu
facture costs less than twenty cents per bushel, and having
no competition, sells at the works at eighty cents per bushel.
In addition to the salt wells, the estate has upon it in
exhaustible deposits of plaster, for all of which, both salt
and plaster, there is a ready market, with railroad trans
portation within a few feet of the wells and banks.
With this mere outline, together with what has been in
timated in preceding chapters of the resources of this
highly favored corner of the Old Dominion — and the half

WILBUEN WATEES. 135
has not yet been told — all must conclude that God in his
providence has lavished his bounties upon Southwestern
Virginia with a liberal hand, and that the people thereof
ought to be grateful, prosperous and happy. The truth
is, they have lived too easily, and hence too negligently,
but the war has taught them a lesson which will profit
the more prudent, and result, it may be hoped, in a fuller
development of their hidden wealth.

CHAPTER XXIII.
A JAUNT INTO TAZEWELL COUNTY, WITH A DESCRIPTION OF SOME
OF ITS ROMANTIC SCENES AND NATURAL CURIOSITIES.
In August, 1871, the writer of these pages, in company
with Mr. R. E. Brunett, of Petersburg, started from Abing
don to visit Tazewell county, one of the richest as well as
one of the most wildly beautiful and romantic in this end
of the State. We went by way of the Saltworks, whose
hundreds of boiling cauldrons were turning out three
thousand bushels of salt per day. Passing on a mile, we
were at Mr. Palmer's cheese factory, where one hundred and
fifty cows supply the material. In another mile we were on
the battle-ground, where the Federal General Burbridge,
in the third year of the war, left a regiment of negroes on
the field by placing them in front, and where two thousand
five hundred old men and boys whipped and chased into
Kentucky five thousand Michiganders and "loyal" Ten-
nesseeans. Here we forded the North Fork of Holston up
to our saddle-skirts, and keeping up stream half a dozen
miles, brought us to the gap in Poor Valley mountain,
thiough which dashes and tumbles the madly-rushing
Laurel, between jagged precipices at least one thousand feet
high, and so narrow that a man can throw a stone across
the chasm. A narrow valley separates this from Flat Top,
crossing which, and then Clinch mountain, which are as
near together as two mountains can be, a few miles farther

WILBUEN WATEES. 137
on brought us to the residence of General Rees T. Bowen,
in Tazewell, where we were welcomed with a hospitality
so genial and generous as to make us feel perfectly at home.
Here we sojourned from Saturday afternoon till late in the
day on Monday examining and admiring the wonderful
freaks of nature and of art with which t|iat locality so
richly abounds. The General owns three thousand acres
in what is called the Cove, a rich alluvial plain, famous
for its fertility and romantic beauty. Such is the character
of the blue-grass, even to the summits of the mountains,
that cattle keep in fine order without other food all through
the winter, except on rare occasions when the grass is
covered with snow.
Upon this place are found those strangely painted rocks,
which have been a wonder and a mystery to. all who have
seen them. The grandfather of General Bowen settled
the Cove in 1766 — one hundred and ten years ago — and
the paintings were there then, and are as brilliant to-day
as they were when first seen by a white man. They con
sist of horses, elk, deer, wolves, bows and arrows, eagles,
Indians, and various other devices. The mountain upon
which these rocks are based is about one thousand feet
high, and they lay in a horizontal line about half-way up,
and are perhaps seventy-five feet broad upon their perpen
dicular face. When it is remembered that the rock is
hard, with a smooth white surface, incapable of absorbing
paint, it is a mystery how the coloring bas remained un
dimmed under the peltings of the elements for how much
longer than a hundred years no one can tell. This paint
is found near the rocks, and General Bowen informed the

138 WILBURN WATERS.
writer that his grandmother used it for dyeing linsey, and
it was a fadeless color. As there was a battle fought on
A neighboring mountain between 1740 and 1750, between
the Cherokees and Shawnees, for the possession of a buffalo
lick, the remains of the rude fortifications being still visible,
it is supposed 'the paintings were hieroglyphics, conveying
such intelligence to the red man as we now communicate
to each other through newspapers. It was a perilous ad
venture to stand upon a narrow inclined ledge, without a
shrub or a root to hold to, with from fifty to seventy-five
feet of sheer perpendicular descent below to a bed of jagged
boulders and the home of innumerable rattlesnakes, but I
didn't make it ! I crawled far enough along that narrow,
slanting ledge, with my fingers inserted in the crevices of
the rocks, to" see most of the paintings, and then "coon'd"
it back with equal care and caution.
Another great curiosity upon the premises of General
Bowen is the magnificent spring near his residence, afford
ing sufficient water to supply the teeming millions of the
Empire city. It is known far and near by the name of
"Maiden Spring," from the circumstance of his ancestor,
who first settled the Cove, having killed a doe whiles-
slaking its thirst at this remarkable fountain. The spring
affords an immense volume of pure, cold, clear water, and
is evidently a subterranean river that finds its way into
the outer world from the mouth of a cavern under a high
and rugged cliff of rocks, thickly covered with trees and
wild vines. The rush of the water is so great and rapid,
that its roar can be heard at a considerable distance. It
affords ample water-power for any amount or character of
machinery, ,

WILBURN WATERS. 139
Within three-fourths of a mile of this spring, and upon
the same premises, boils up the second section of the South
Fork of Clinch river. This stream has its source in a
number of springs several miles eastward, and after wind
ing and tumbling among the hills for some distance,
entirely disappears, running several miles underground,
till it boils up again in the cove, as above stated, which
forms, as the writer has termed it, the second section of a
river. It is a broad, rapid stream from the spot where it
reappears, and General Bowen informed us that such is the
force with which it comes to the surface, that it is difficult
for a man to force his foot into the apperture.
We visited many other places of interest on the Gene
ral's premises, such as subterranean springs, deep, dark
caverns, and very reluctantly left his hospitable roof and
pleasant family late in the afternoon, and after a warm
ride of a dozen miles along a rich but narrow valley,
bordered by high mountains on either side not more than
half a mile apart, we arrived at J^ffersonville, the county
town of Tazewell, with a population of about six hundred?
and situated on a gentle eminence, with rich and romantic
surroundings. Immediately opposite the town, and but
little more than a mile from it, and covered with blue-
grass to its very summit, rises a rock-crowned peak in
Rich mountain, easily accessible on horse-back, fifteen
hundred and seventy feet above the level of the street.
We remained in Jeffersonville till the afternoon of the
next day, enjoying the splendid scenery, and for the pur
pose of affording my companion an opportunity of exam
ining the records and ascertaining the whereabouts and

140 WILBURN WATEES.
boundaries of a tract of land among the mountains upon
which he held a claim. His search was unsuccessful, for
instead of finding the farm of somebody else on top of hisj
he found his on top of everybody's else — upon the very
"topmost towering height" of "Cucumber Ridge," in
McDowell county. West Virginia, in an immense pile of
rocks, with here and there a stunted laurel, where the
roots could struggle for enough into the fissures to hold it
upright. Such, at least, was the information he obtained.
We then started for Burk's Garden, in the eastern end of
the county. Half way there we passed, almost imper
ceptibly, over the ridgej that divides the waters of the
-Tennessee and the Kanawha, those on the west side flowing
into Clinch, and those on the east side into New River —
running in directly opposite directions for hundreds of
miles, and then uniting in the Ohio. At the western base
of the ridge we drank out of the head-spring of Clinch
river, a cold, bold fountain, in which my companion had
a fight with a very large water-moccasin, without material
injury to either .combatant. A mile or two farther on we
came to the base of Rich mountain, which is crossed by a
winding turnpike some flve miles over. The mountain at
this crossing is heavily timbered, many of the trees being
cucumber, a species of domestic magnolia, which were pe
culiarly rich at that season, with their clusters of crimson
fruit and dark green foliage.
About the middle of the afternoon we descended the
opposite side into a sharp, narrow valley, with the gap or
gate-way opening into Burk's Garden in plain view,
three-fourths of a mile from and five hundred feet above

WILBURN WATEES. 141
US. This gap looked to the writer like a curf that might
have beeij chopped by all the men in the world put into
one man, and with an ax with all the axes in the world
put into one ax. The writer regards Burk's Garden as
the grandest spot of earth his eyes have ever beheld. It
is ten miles long and five wide, with a turnpike running
straight across it through the centre. Knowing no one
we rode on to one of the two stores 'and the most public
place in it, and although there were several gentlemen
present, they all seemed to be so busy buying and selling
that they had no time to answer our seemingly unimpor
tant questions in more than monosyllables, particularly
after having learned that we were not in the cattle trade.
After resting awhile we remounted, and concluded to go
farther even if it should be our luck to fare worse. The
sun was still some distance above the horizon, and as the
tall trees made long shadows under the standing rays,
tinging the tops of the opposite mountain with its softened
, light, the scene was indescribably grand, and we thought
it no wonder that the old pioneer Burk, when his vision
first fell upon that valley hung like an eagle's riest among
the mountains, exclaimed, "surely I have found my way
into the garden of Eden!"
We continued to ride on leisurely, seemingly without
purpose or destination, but rapt in admiration of all that
met the view — tall timber, green fields, fruitful orchards,.
sparkling rivulets, fat cattle, tasty homesteads — till we
reached the farther or northern boundary, where we began
to cast about for shelter for the night, more especially as
ominous looking clouds were looming up in the distance

142 WILBURN WATERS.
accompanied by flows of wind and scattered rain drops.
Seeing a neat little farm-house hard by, surrounded by
rich fruits and green pastures, we rode up and were met
at the gate by a pleasant-looking young gentleman, who,
on being told who we were, and what our mission, threw
open his doors and his heart, and gave us one of those
generous welcomes which we have never seen more warm
and unostentatious than in Tazewell county. We were at
the residence of Mr. H. H. McGinnis, who had but re
cently commenced house-keeping, and although we felt
that we were improperly intruding upon new beginners,
the kind and hospitable attentions of his pleasant lady
and himself, made us feel at home and forget that we were
strangers. The peregrinations of the past few days having wearied
us somewhat, we did not rise next morning as early as
usual, but in ample time to see Old Sol lift himself over
the eastern barrier, and strangely and gorgeously light op
with golden tints the foliage, flowers and magnificent
meadows of that beautiful valley. A comfortable night's
rest and an excellent breakfast prepared us for another day
of wandering and observation, and bidding adieu to our
kind entertainers, we started out to see more of the spot
upon which nature seems to have concentrated the sum
total of her bounties. Coming to a large gate that had
whiteoak trees for posts, and seeing a large herd of cattle
up to their eyes in blue-grass; in an inclosure of hundreds
of acres, we turned in, and finding a path leading east
ward, we followed it several miles, passing through a num
ber of gates between fields and plantations. We at length

WILBURN WATERS. 143
found ourselves upon the splendid estate that once belonged
to the Floyd family, and where, a few years ago, a white
oak spread its broad shade, the trunk of which measured
fully nine feet in diameter, and near which we drank from
a spring one hundred and twenty feet in circumference, the
bottom of which has never been sounded.
After riding about fi)r several hours among the green
pastures and noble old forest trees, we made our way back
to the road, and were shown the spot, near the centre of
the garden, where Burk lighted his first camp-fire and
spent his first night in his new-found Eden, marked by a
splendid spring and the stump of an old sugar-tree. Pas
sing on a mile or two more brought us to the residence of
Mr. Litz, in the western end, whose son accompanied the
writer to the top of the mountain at the extreme western
limit, while his companion remained to rest his jaded
horse, where a magnificent view of the whole area is ob
tained. The Garden, including the arable mountain-sides,
contains some fifty thousand acres, about one-ninth of
which belongs to two individuals — Messrs. Lawson and
Meek. We learned from the census-taker, whom we met
on his mission, that it embraces one hundred and fifty
families and one thousand seven hundred inhabitants. Al
though it is apparently level, the streams all flow with con
siderable rapidity, and converge toward the gap, where
they form a large creek, that goes leaping and bellowing
down the steep rocky mountain-side with wild and fearful
velocity, falling five hundred feet in the first half-mile of
its course.
After enjoying a. comfortable family dinner with Mr.

144 WILBURN WATERS.
Litz, we turned our horses' heads westward, and night
found us at , the residence of Mr. James S. Witten, four
miles west of Jeffersonville, where we met with a cordial
welcome, a pleasant and happy family, and a houseful of
pretty young ladies, most of whom had gathered in from
the neighborhood. Mr. Witten, like General Bowen, is
one of those whole-souled gentlemen who seem to feel
honored by a call, whose hopitalities are as free and as
boundless as the breezes of their native hills, and whose
houses, omnibus-like, however full, always have room for
one more. After chatting till a late hour with the old
folks, while the hours with Mr. Brunett flew past as if on
angels' wing in the parlon-, we retired to a comfortable-
room and were soon oblivious to all earth's joys and sor
rows. The next morning was bright and balmy, but the clouds
hanging lazily on the sides of the mountains gave indica
tion of coming rain. When we spoke of starting home
ward, Mr. Witten informed us that we couldn't do that
thing that day, but must remain at least one day longer,
if not a week. We were too polite to be rude, and too
sumptuously entertained to desire a change, and of course
cheerfully consented to postpone our departure.^ For my
part I was gratified that we did, for I visited a mountain
that day — Morris' Knob- — that put me nearer heaven than
I ha,d ever been before, and my young companion was
doubtless as near the same happy place as myself, as he
remained behind enjoying the society of the ladies. In
company with Mr. John Witten, the brother of our host,
we ascended the highest peak in Rich mountain, said to be-

WILBURN WATEES. 145
the highest point in the State, and affording a grand and
most extensive view. It is not as high from base to sum
mit as White Top, but being in a section more elevated,
it is higher above the level of the sea. The southern face
of the summit is crowned with an immense square rock,
itself said to be three hundred feet perpendicular. This
rock seemingly overhangs a beautiful valley a mile or two
away, and affords an unobstructed view, limited only by
the scope of vision. On every hand, mountains piled on
mountains meet the view. But for the fact that masses
of cloud rested upon the mountains in the distance, I was
informed that Pilot and Black mountains in North Caro
lina, as well as many peaks in the Blue Ridge, the Alle
ghanies and the Cumberland, would be plain to the naked
eye. As it was,,the scene was indescribably beautiful, and I
shall never forget my admiration of the cabins on the green
hillsides, seeming to hang among the foliage like nests of
the Baltimore oriole. After spending an hour or more
among the sharp and chilling winds, where millions of
snow-birds build their habitations and rear their young,
and the grey eagle makes his home, we came down through
blue-grass knee-deep, and in less time than it takes me to tell
it were broiling under a sun that had lifted the mercury
up to ninety-four in the shade., A circle of a few miles
brought us back to the residence of Mr. Witten, where
the balance of the evening was spent by myself in listen
ing to interesting narrations of Indian traditions, while
my younger companion was still in clover in another apart
ment. 10

146 WILBURN WATEES.
Taken altogether, the writer regards this as one of the
most instructive and gratifying pleasure excursions he has
ever taken, and doubts not that he lived fully nine years
of solid enjoyment [in those nine summer days and one
hundred and fifty miles of mountain travel.

CHAPTER XXIV.
AN INDIAN INCURSION AT ABINGDON, AND INCIDENTS IN
PIONEER LIFE.
The writer of these sketches has given from time to time,
in newspaper articles, narratives of the sufferings and
vicissitudes of the early settlers of Southwestern Virginia,
but as he contemplates the subject, incident after incident
rises up before him, of greater or lesser magnitude, all
combining to illustrate the propriety of putting them in
such form as may secure their perpetuation in the history
yet to be written of this interesting portion of the Old
Dominion, more particularly when it is remembered that
" nations only begin to look after the history of their
founders, and search into their origin, when they have out
lived the memory thereof"
A large majority of the dwellers upon our picturesque
slopes and blooming valleys, have but little conception of
the dangers and privations encountered and endured by
the generation, — the dim shadows of which are vanishing
like the tints in a dissolving scene, — who cleared the forest
and opened out the rich and beautiful farms that are now
spread out upon our hills and mountain sides and grassy
plains. For instance, but few of the present inhabitants
of Abingdon, now so tranquil and unstartled by threatened
or anticipated calamity, are aware that the ground now
occupied by our two flourishing female colleges was once

148 WILBUEN WATERS.
a dense chinquapin thicket, which, in the summer of 1776,
concealed a band of painted warriors who made a savage
attack on Black's Fort, which stood near the spot now
occupied by Captain Findlay's mill, and that the face of
the hill, between Stonewall Jackson Institute aud the rail
road was the scene of a bloody battle. Nor are they aware
that the Rev. Charles Cummings, who was the pastor of
the congregation who worshipped in the church that stood
in the old grave-yard, attended his appointments on the
Sabbath with his shot-pouch and powder-horn slung around
him and his rifle in his hand, while the brave men who
assembled to enjoy the comforts and blessings of their holy
religion, resembled more a company of modern militia,
armed and equipped for action, than the pious men they
were, who were not allowed to worship the Great Jehovah
"under their own vine and fig-tree" without serious ap
prehensions of a lurking foe.
The writer is indebted to Colonel Abram Mangle, one
of the oldest and most reliable citizens of the countv, for
an outline of the following incidents :
On one occasion in the year above referred to — 1776 —
two men and three women were pulling flax near the fort,
with Frederick Mangle stationed as a sentinel to give the
alarm should Indians make their appearance. The enemy,
who had concealed themselves in the chinquapin bushes
above referred to, stealthily approached, wounded and
scalped Mr. Mangle, but the persons in the flax-patch, by
dodging firom tree to tree, finally reached the fort in safety.
The men in the fort sallying out, reinforced by a number
in the vicinity who had heard the firing, attacked the

WILBURN WATERS. 149
savages and drove them off with considerable loss. Mr.
Mangle survived his injuries but a short time, and his re
latives claim that his, and not Henry Creswell's, was the
first grave in the old Sinking Spring cemetery.
But to proceed with the more prominent incidents the
writer proposes to record. In 1 778, a predatory party of
Indians came in from the Rockcastle hills in Kentucky,
and made their appearance at the cabin of Isaac Newland,
on the North Fork of Holston, the place subsequently
owned by Michael Fleenor, and still in possession of his
descendants, some eight miles north of Abingdon. Mr.
Newland and his son were at work in a clearing near by,
with no one at the cabin but his wife and her infant. The
Indians captured the mother and infant, burnt the cabin,
and hurried away with their captives directly through the
mountains toward Russfel. The alarm being given, Jacob
Mangle (father of Colonel Abram Mangle), being the
nearest neighbor, gathered a company in as short a time
as possible and took the trail, which had been plainly
marked by Mrs. Newland, who had the presence of mind
to break twigs by the way and leave other sign. After
reaching the valley in which Lebanon is now situated,.and
fearing that the powder in their fiint-locks had become
dampened in passing through the- thick undergrowth on
the mountain, they discharged their guns for the purpose
of reloading in order to make sure work should they over
take the savages, but it unfortunately so happened that
the Indians had halted, and hearing the Report of fire-arms
took the alarm, murdered their victims and made their
escape. A few minutes after, the pursuing party came to

150 WILBURN WATERS.
where the mother and child were lying, the latter not quite
dead. They brought them back to the settlement, Jacob
Mangle carrying the infant, which died in his arms on the
way. The alarm having reached the little settlement at Abing
don, it produced great consternation and serious appre
hensions as to what might befall the little community at
Castle's Woods, as the Indians would probably return in
that direction, it being in a line with their towns beyond
the Cumberland. A young man living at Abingdon by
the name of Douglass, a fearless and determined Indian
fighter, proposed to cross the mountain to Castle's Woods,
for the purpose of warning the settlers of the impending
danger, and a young friend by the name of Benham vol'
unteered to accompany him on the perilous journey, against
the expostulations of their relatives and friends. Every
body in this country acquainted with the old road through
Little Moccasin Gap, will remember the large, square, flat,
table-like rock, some five or six feet high, which stood on
the lower side of the old trace along the creek not far from
opposite the little mill now on the new road in the gap,
the noisy machinery of which sends strange echoes along
the surrounding peaks in these days of piping peace and
corn-dodgers, Douglass and Benham had reached that
rock, and, as was the custom of most way-farers, as long
as that old road was the highway through the gap, had
probably halted to eat a snack. At this moment the re
port of a rifle was heard, when Douglass fell mortally
wounded. He at once told Benham that the shot was fatal, and
urged him to dodge into the laurel bordering the stream,

WILBURN WATERS. 151
make his escape to Castle's -Woods and warn the settlers.
Douglass saw the smoke of the rifle rise from a log be
tween the stream and where the road now passes, and
knowing that it was the habit of the Indian to lie still
under such circumstances till the smoke cleared away,
when he would cautiously raise his head to see the effect
of his fire. He drew a bead upon the spot as he lay
propped upon his elbow, and Benham afterward stated that
he had not gone fifty yards when he heard the report of
Douglass' rifle. Benham hurried on through the gap,
reached Castle's Woods in safety and gave the alarm. A
company returning a day or two after found the body of
Douglass lying where Benham left him, with his scalp
gone, and on examining the place where the smoke of the
Indian rifle had been seen, blood and brains were found
upon the log, showing that Douglass, at the instant he
entered upon that journey from which no traveler returns,
took an Indian with him on the solemn march. A grave
was excavated among the rocks on the road-side where he
fell, in which his body was deposited, and still sleeps, amid
the wildest and most romantic scenery of all our mountain
gorges. It was the custom for each passer-by who knew
the spot to drop a pebble upon the rude mound, to per
petuate the memory of the resting-place of the brave
pioneer who sacrificed his life for the safety of others per
haps unknown to him, but the vandalisnl of modern change,
instead of rearing a monument to his memory on the spot,
wantonly changed the location of the road to avoid a slight
elevation, and thus obliterated forever the little hillock
that marked the receptacle of the ashes of the hero and
martyr.

CHAPTER XXV.
A RACE FOR LIFE— INDIAN DEPREDATIONS ON THE HOLSTON.
Visitors to this beautiful country, as well as many who
inhabit it, are not aware, or rather do not reflect, that many
of these green hills and picturesque valleys were once the
scenes of frequent Indian cruelty and outrage. The writer
proposes, as briefly as he can, to give an imperfect sketch
of one of the last predatory incursions of the red men into
the valley of Holston, as he has heard it related by more
than one aged citizen. It occurred on the 7th day of
April, 1794, on the North Fork of Holston, twenty-eight
miles west of Abingdon.
This region of country — "the settlements of Holston,"
as it was called — was originally neutral ground among the
tribes, uninhabited, and reserved as a common hunting
range. The centre of this reservation was "Wolf Hills,"
where the spires of the town of Abingdon now glisten in
the sunlight of an "advanced civilization," The fertility
of the soil, the salubrity of the climate, the purity and
abundance of water, and the value of the blue-grass, pea-
vine and canebrake ranges, on bottom and upland alike, at
tracted immigration at an early period, and consequently
at the time of the later Indian depredations, a number of
settlers had erected their cabins and chopped out their
clearings where now are to be seen broad fields and elegant
mansions.

WILBURN WATERS. 153
It is the purpose of the .writer to speak more particularly
of the incursion of 1794, and to refer, incidentally, to
others of a later date and of less magnitude. That of '78
was led by Benge, a half-breed Shawnee, who was remark
able for his strength, activity, endurance and great speed
as arunner. He was a man of more than savage intelli
gence also, as wejU as of great bravery and strategy, and
had more than once approached the settlements so stealthily
and by a route so secret, that he fell upon the scattered
settlers without an intimation of his appoach, aud retired
to his wigwams beyond the Cumberland without leaving a
trace of the route he had traveled, though rangers were
constantly on the lookout for his trail. One of these ran
gers of the Holston settlement was a man by the name of
Cotterell, and the writer must make a digression to record
an incident in his history. He was famous for his size,
activity and handsome person. Benge and himself were
rivals in manhood and wood-craft, each jealous of the
other's prowess and courage, and both anxious for an oc
casion to meet in single combat. Not many months be
fore Benge's last incursion, they met on top of Powell's
mountain, in what is now Lee county, each with a band
of followers. The Indians were in ambush, having ob
served the approach of the whites, who were not aware of
their proximity, and Benge instructed his companions not
to kill Cotterell, so that he himself might run him down
and capture him. At the crack of the Indian rifles the
two or three of Cotterell's companions fell, seeing which,
and at once comprehending the folly of a combat with a
dozen savages, he sprang away down the mountain-side

154 WILBURN WATEES.
like an antelope, with Benge in close pursuit. Two miles
away in the valley on Walling's creek was the cabin of a
pioneer, in reaching which Cotterell knew was his only
chance of escape. Having two hundred dollars in specie in
a belt around him, he found he was carrying too much
weight for a closely contested race, and that Benge was
gaining on him. Making a desperate effort, however, he
increased his speed a little, and as he leaped the fence that
surrounded the cabin, Benge's tomahawk was buried in
the top rail before Cotterell reached the ground. Benge,
seeing that he had missed his aim, and- not kndwing how
many men and rifles might be in the cabin, fled back to
his companions sadly disappointed.
A few years after this Cotterell died on the North Fork
in this county, and during the "wake," while his body lay
in the cabin, an old comrade, who had been in many a hard
pinch with him, thus gave utterance to his thoughts and
feelings as he paced the puncheon floor in great sorrow :
"Poor Cotterell, he is gone ! He was a noble fellow after
Ingins and varmints, and I hope he has gone to where
there is as much game and as desperate good range as he had
on Holston ! "
But to return to the subject. Not a great while before
Benge's last predatory incursion, 1794, a man by the name
of Hobbs, almost, if not quite, the eqiial of Cotterell in
prowess, bravery, activity and daring, and "some among
Ingins," as the phrase had it, determined to discover the
secret path by which Benge crossed Cumberland moun
tain and entered and retired from the settlements. He at
length ascertained it to be one of two cattle paths crossing

WILBUEN WATERS. 155
the mountain midway between two gaps some few miles
apart, through which the highways into Kentucky lay in
those days. He at once organized a squad of mountaineers
to meet him at a designated spot the moment it was known
that Indians were in the settlements.
Time wore on, and all was pleasant and prosperous on
the Holston. One bright morning in May, 1794, after the
sun had risen and the men had gone to the clearings and
the women were busy at their wheels and looms, all joyous
and jovial amid the fragrance of wild flowers and the
music of song-birds, and not dreaming of coming danger,
Benge and his painted warriors stealthily approached and
surrounded the cabins of Peter Livingston. The writer
will here give the narrative of the capture and massacre
in the words of Mrs. Osborne, who was the daughter of
Peter Livingston, was one of the captives, frequently heard
the narrative from the lips of her parents, and is still living
within sight of the spot where the outrage occurred :
When the party of Indians were first discovered by Mrs.
Elizabeth Livingston, they were within a short distance
of the house. Her attention was attracted by the barking
of a dog, and seeing them, and knowing their evil design,
she fastened the door to prevent their entrance, and awaited
the attack. While they were trying to break open the
door, she took down a rifle that was laying in the rack
and fired among them, with what effect she never knew.
The Indians then went to the kitchen, where they found
three children, one white and two colored. They toma
hawked these and left them for dead. The white child
and one of the colored recovered. They then went to the

156 WILBURN WATEES.
cabin of old Mrs. Sally Livingston, close by, and toma
hawked her. She lived four days. After taking what pro
visions and household articles they wanted, they fired the
house which Mrs. Elizabeth Livingston occupied, when
she was forced to come out and surrender. Before doing
so, however, she gave her infant to her little daughter,
who escaped with it to the house of Mr. Russell, the near
est neighbor. This infant became the wife of Solomon
Osborne, and furnishes, as before said, this narrative. The
captives with which the Indians started to their towns
were Mrs. Elizabeth Livingston, wife of Peter, Mrs. Susan
Livingston, wife of Henry, and who had been married
only three weeks, two colored men and one colored woman.
The alarm was soon given, and a party of men lead by
a man by the name of Head started in pursuit, while
Hobbs and his squad, having heard that the Indians had
gone towards Holston, made their way to the designated
place of meeting at the base of Cumberland mountain.
Hobbs and his men having reached their destination
several hours in advance of the Indians and the party fol
lowing up the trail, he divided them into two parties, in
order to guard the two paths, one or the other of which
he was satisfied the savages would , travel, each company
to be stationed in line and in ambush within convenient
range of the path. Hobbs himself chose to be with those
who guarded the path he thought the Indians would be
most likely to taKe, and after disposing of them in line,
concealed by the undergrowth, he instructed them not to
fire should the Indians come that way till he had given
the signal, each man selecting his victim, so as not to waste

WILBUEN WATEES. 157
the second bullet on the same object. They were not kept
long in suspense, after being disposed, before the red-skins
were seen silently and cautiously wending their way with
their captives up a long spur in single file, Benge in the
lead, as was his invariable custom. Hobbs knowing his
habit, had himself taken the farthest position, so that when
the Indians should be opposite his line, Benge would be
opposite him. Before Benge had advanced far enough to
come within range of Hobb's rifle, one of the men, having
become impatient, fired without waiting for the precon- ¦
certed signal. As no time was now to be lost, each white
man selected his Indian and blazed away. At the crack
of the rifles, and seeing that most of his followers had
fallen or disappeared, Benge sprang off like a startled buck,,
leaving captives and all behind. Opposite Hobb's posi
tion was an opening in the timber, where the trunk of a
large tree had fallen across the path, and he knew that his
only chance to bring Benge to a halt, as he afterwards ex
pressed it, was to wing him as he passed around the root
of the tree into the narrow opening. He had but a moment
to reflect, and as Benge at full speed darkened the opening,
Hobbs drew a bead and fired, when Benge sprang into the
air with a yell, and fell without a struggle or a groan.
That was the last of Benge, the half-breed Shawnee
warrior, and the last Indian predatory incursion to the
Holston settlements. Mr. Hobbs lived many years, be
came a pious and useful minister of the Methodist Church ;
and the Legislature, some years after, as a testimonial of"
its appreciation of his gallantry, voted him a handsome-
and costly silver-mounted rifle.

CHAPTER XXVI.
A THRILLING NARRATIVE OF KATY SAGE, THE LOST CHILD
OF GRAYSON.
The circumstances of the following narrative are most
remarkable, certainly stranger than fiction, and involve
more to touch the heart and enlist the kindlier emotions of
our nature than anything the writer has been able to pick
up in his long residence among the mountains.
On Elk creek, in Grayson county, Virginia, lived, in
1792, a young and happy family, consisting of James Sage,
his wife and three or four small children. The morning of
the 11th of April in that year was bright and balmy, the
early wild flowers were bursting into bloom, the song-birds
were trilling their melody in the budding forest, the be
spangled trout were sporting in the crystal waters of the
mountain stream, and all was peaceful and joyous around
the cabin of the pioneer. The husband and fether was
preparing his clearing for the summer crop, and the wife
and mother preparing for the day's washing. She had gone
to the little stream near by to build a fire, leaving her little
daughter Katy, then only five years old, chasing butter
flies among the shrubs of the garden. After starting the
fire, the mother returned to the cabin for the clothes she
intended to wash, when she missed the child that had been
seen sporting in the garden a short time before. After a
diligent but fruitless search for some little distance around

WILBUEN WATEES. 159
the inclosure, she became alarmed and called her husband
from the field, and they both sought the little one till night
fell upon the scene, and still she could not be found. The
weary hours of the night chased each other slowly on, and
still the agonized parents heard no cheering answer to their
continued calls. On the morrow the neighbors gathered
in, the country at that time being very sparsely populated,
but some fifty or sixty of them came together, and day after
day and week after week they searched every cove, thicket,
stream, cave and mountain-side, and still no tidings of the
little wanderer.
At length all except the father gave up the search in
despair, who continued it for months, passing over nearly
every square yard of ground for miles around, with the
melancholy hope that at least the remains or some indica
tions of the fate of the lost one might be found, which
would be more satifactory than the agonizing suspense that
hung about the hearts of the parents. In his wanderings
he heard of the fame of an old woman known by the
name of Granny Moses, who lived beyond the mountain
in North Carolina, and who was believed by the settlers to
possess the faculty of revealing all mysteries and fore
telling future events. He sought her out and consulted
her. After consulting her occult sciences, she informed
him that the chUd was still living, but that he would
never see or hear of her, though his wife, who would sur
vive him, would hear from her child in her old age.
Time wore on, thirty-one years had passed, and in 1823
the father died, and still no tidings of the lost one. Time
was stUl on the wing, and amid its changes and revolu-

160 WILBUEN WATEES.
tions and startling events, the mysterious disappearance of
Katy Sage was unrevealed and almost- forgotten. In the
meantime the family became scattered — one of the sons
settling in Lee county, Virginia; another in Missouri, and
a third in Kansas. Years swept on, and in 1854 Charles
Sage, who lived in Kansas, having business with the Gov
ernment, visited the Indian Agency on the border of that
Territory. On entering the office, he attracted the atten
tion of the Agent, who asked him if he had a sister or
other female relation among the Indians, stating that there
was a white woman among the Shawnees, who sometimes
visited the Agency, to whom he bore a most remarkable
resemblance. He informed the Agent that he was not
aware of having such a relative, but that, more than sixty
years before, a sister of his had been stolen or lost, who
had never been heard from. The Agent, believing the-
woman among the Shawnees and the lost child to be one
and the same, propose to send for her and have the mys
tery solved.
She was .sent for and came to the Agency with an in
terpreter, not being able to speak or understand a word of'
English. As soon as Chdrles Sage saw her, he believed
her to be his long lost sister, from the striking family
resemblance, got her consent to go home with him, and
wrete at once to his brother Samuel in Missouri to come
to Kansas immediately and see if he could recognize her
features, as he was old enough to remember their sister
when she disappeared. He made the journey, and as soon
as he saw her he burst into tears, so certain was he that
she was his sister Katy. But all .Suspense and mystery

WILBURN WATERS. 161
were dissipated when she informed them through an inter
preter that she had been taken from her home when a small
child by a white man, lived several years among the Che
rokees, then among the Creeks, and finally among the
Shawnees, and that in all her wanderings, from tribe to
tribe, and from country to country, she had retained the
name of Katy. She had been three times married to
chiefs of the Shawnee tribe, had lost an only child, and
was now a widow.
To place her identity beyond all cavil or doubt, the
brothers wrote to their mother, still living on the same
spot in Grayson county, Virginia, and then ninety-five
years old, to know if she recollected any mark upon the
person of Katy by which she might be recognized. In
due time they received an answer that she was marked
with a ginger-colored spot on one of her shoulders, and on
being examined the spot was found. This entirely and
unmistakably established her identity.
The brothers now began to arrange to take her to their
mother, but before their arrangements had been completed,
Katy took the pneumonia and died, and although the
parents and lost child never met again on earth, they all
"crossed over the river, and are resting under the shade
of the trees."
WhUe the writer does not subscribe to human divina
tions, or human power to solve the mysterious providences
in the womb of the future, he must regard the predictions
of Granny Moses as the most remarkable since the days
of the Witch of Endor.
11

162 WILBURN WATERS,
Should any reader be skeptical as to the truth of any of
the remarkable circumstances above stated, they will be
attested by Mrs. Elizabeth Delp, sister of the lost one,
who still lives at the old homestead in Grayson, or Mr.
Thompson Sage, a brother, at Stickleyville, Lee county,
Virginia.

CHAPTER XXVIL
THE ABDUCTOR OF KATY SAGE — THE HORSE-THIEF'S REVENGE.
The preceding chapter is a truthful narrative of the
abduction of Katy Sage, of Grayson county, in 1792, and
this chapter will explain by whom the cruel outrage was
perpetrated, and the motive prompting the bad man who
cast this broad shadow upon an innocent family.
James Sage, the father of Katy, was a native of Mary
land, and a soldier of the Revolution. He belonged to
the brigade of General Enoch Poor, and was in the battles
of Brandy wine, Monmouth and Germantown, endured the
sufferings and privations of that terrible winter at Valley
Forge, and was an eye-witness of the last act in the great
drama^ — the surrender Lord of Cornwallis at Yorktown.
He married at Fredericktown, Maryland, in 1780, and after
the close of the war the next year removed with his young
wife to the " back woods," and settled on Cripple creek,
Wythe county, Virginia. He remained here some ten years,
and then removed to Elk creek, in what is now Grayson
county, where he resided when his child was stolen, the
old homestead being still in possession of his descendants.
Owning several fine horses, and more than he needed
for his then small farming operations, as did also two of
his neighbors by the names of Delp and Cornut — names
still familiar in that county — they concluded to turn them
into the range, which, at that early day, was very fine, and

164 WILBURN WATERS.
sufficient to keep them, even in winter, in good conditiop,
without additional food. This was early in the spring of
1792, and the horses had been out but a few weeks when
Mr. Cornut, on going out to salt them, discovered that three
of the most valuable were missing. The three neighbors,
with as little delay as possible, packed up provisions for
the journey, shouldered their rifles and started in pursuit.
They were not long in finding the trail, which led them
along the bank and toward the source of that crooked and
turbulent stream now known by the name of Holston, to
the base of White Top mountain. Here the trail divided,
one of the horses keeping along the side of the mountain,
the others slightly diverging from the regular trace.
This was doubtless done for the purpose of baffling pur
suit, and made it apparent that there were at least two
thieve<3. Mr. Sage followed the track of the single horse,
and his companions followed those of the two. When the
former reached the summit of that part of White Top
known at this day as Elk Garden, the long swag connecting
White Top and Balsam, even yet the most luxuriant and
nutritious pasturage in all that vast range, he came upon
all three of the horses hobbled and quietly grazing, but
the thieves, who were doubtless enjoying themselves in the
cabin of one of the few squatters of that wild and almost
inaccessible region, eluded their search. He soon called
up his companions, and catching and mounting the horses,
which had their halters on them, they made their way back
to the settlement.
Suspicion had' been directed to a man by the name of
Talbert as the principal thief, who had been dodging about

WILBURN WATERS. 165
from settlement to settlement without apparent business or
visible means of support, and who had been seen on Elk
creek a day or two before the disappearance of Katy Sage.
He was never seen there afterwards, and it was the opinion
of the community that he had stolen the child, and that
the motive was revenge for the loss of the horses he had
stolen from the father.
Katy informed her brothers, through an interpreter, that
she had been stolen by a white man, who picked her up in
his arms, muffled her head and face with a handkerchief,
and threatened to kill her if she gave any alarm. He car
ried her with considerable speed until he tkought himself
safe from pursuit,, made his way to the Cherokee Nation,
disposed of her there, disappeared, and she never saw or
heard of him afterwards.
Katy's subsequent history being given in the preceding
chapter, these facts are given to illustrate how slight a pro
vocation may sometimes induce a bad man to commit a
most inhuman crime. The child could be of no benefit
to him, farther than the trifle the Indians might give for
her with the hope of securing a ransom, but the distress
of the father in the loss of the little one, far more bitter
than if it had died in his arms, was the gratification sought
by her abductor, appropriately termed the Horse-thief's
Revenge.

CHAPTER XXVin.
THE PIONEERS OF CASTLE'S WOODS, AND TROUBLES WITH THB
INDIANS.
The following chapter is made up from notes furnished
the writer by WUliam J. Dickenson, Esq., grandson of one
of the pioneers, a prominent citizen of Russell, an intelli
gent and honorable gentleman, and the statements, there
fore, may be regarded as accurate.
There was a settlement at Black's Fort (now Abingdon),
and another on the North Fork of Holston, when the first
known adventurers visited what has ever since been known
as Castle's Woods, in Russell county. This was a very
fertile tract of country on Clinch river, with splendid range
and fine hunting and fishing. It is still one of the most
desirable tracts of country in Southwestern Virginia, and
embraces some of the best farms and most successful
farmers in all this highly favored region. Persons now
passing that way, and seeing the broad fields and meadows
stretched out as far as the vision can reach, all covered
with grain and grass and waving corn, with orchards,
flowers and fruits and elegant homesteads, wonder why
such a beautiful and extensive tract should be called
"woods." Just about one hundred years ago — not a long
period in the history of a country — the first trees in that
grand old forest were felled, and for the first time the
smoke from a white man's cabin mingled with the mists
of the river and struggled along the face of the hills.

WILBURN WATERS. 167
The first four piqneers were a man by the name of Cas
tle, whose name the section still bears; Henry Dickenson,
Charles Bickley and Simon Ocsher. A very short time
after, a number of others, hearing of the game and the
range, found their way into this beautiful valley, among
whom were James Bush, William Fraley, Archelous Dick
enson, Humphrey Dickenson, James Osborn, William
Richie, Jerry Harold, William Robertson, Richard Long,
William Long, William Bowlin, William Russell (for
whom the county was subsequently named), Samuel^orter,
Henry Neece, Henry Hamblin and William Wharton.
Humphrey Dickenson was killed by the Indians in the
ford of the river, about which time Richard and WiUiam
, Long killed an Indian spy near the same place. The
families of several of these pioneers were murdered by the
Indians. Thd writer will now have to go back a little to tell about
the fort and the transactions that occurred there. The first
cabin was erected by Castle, about one mile west of what
is known as Rock Farm, at a .spring near where WUliam
R. Mead now resides. The fort subsequently built was
called Bush's Fort, and stood on an eminence not far from
the spot now occupied by what is called Mud Store. This
was in 1770 or '71. Not long after this — perhaps during
one of these years — transpired the occurrences the writer is
about to relate. A party of about seventeen Indians
stealthily approached the fort, at a time when all the men
were out, and when the only occupants were women and
children. Before approaching it, however, though only a
short distance from it, they met with a young woman by

168 WILBURN WATERS.
the name of Ann Neece, who had gone out for some pur
pose, whom they tomahawked and scalped, and left for
dead. They then approached the fort, and were discovered
by Simon Ocsher, Henry Dickenson and Charles Bickley,
who happened to be working at a mill near by. The In
dians observing them about the same time, and the white
men being unarmed, their situation was a 'fearful one. It
was now to be a struggle which party should get to the
fort first. ' Charles Bickley remarked "Boys, follow me,''
and they all started for the fort at full speed, the Indians
halting to fire upon them. They got safely into the fort
through a shower of balls without receiving a scratch,
thus literally running the gauntlet. There were but two
guns in the fort, and with these Ocsher and Dickenson
each killed an Indian. The balance of the savages, knowing
nothing of the strength of the fort, and their guns being
empty, hastily picked up their fallen companions and fled
into the woods. Meeting with a colored man hunting
sheep, who belonged to Henry Dickenson, they captured
him, and he was never heard of afterwards.
Some hours after their departure, and while there was
still apprehensions of their return by the few persons in
the fort, Ann Neece was seen slowly approaching, as
bloody as if she had been dipped in a pool of gore, with
streams jetting from her head, apparently as numerous as
had been the hairs of her head before she was scalped,
each jet about the size of a hair. She recovered, married
and raised a family, and some of her descendants are still
living in Russell county. Henry Dickenson was a soldier
I in the Indian wars as well as the Revolution, and was at

WILBURN WATERS. 169
the great battles of Point Pleasant and King's Mountain.
Charles Bickley, being a younger man, lived with him till
he married. He lived many years, and, like Henry Dick
enson, raised a large family and left many descendants.
The writer has no information of the future of Castle and
Ocsher. Castle's Woods, as before said, was first settled About
one hundred years ago. The first settlement could hardly
be considered permanent, as the pioneers were sometimes
in the fort and at other times on their claims. They
would raise small patches of corn in the summer and go
into fort in winter, or back to the Holston settlements.
Some of them cultivated their crops simply with the hoe,
while others used a rude implement made of a forked
limb, one prong sharpened to scratch the loose soil, the
other to fasten the horse to, and the main stem answered
for a handle. Their horses, when not in use, were belled
and turned out to feed at large on the nutritious cane and
wild grass. The pioneer's rifle and dog were mostly his
stock in trade, and furnished him an abundant supply of
game of all kinds, from the buffalo down to the smaller
varieties, and all the streams furnished fish in any quan
tity and of the most delicious flavor. There was no com
plaint then of scarcity of meat, for the pioneer and his
rifle were inseparable companions — they walked together,
rode together, rested together and slept together. When
he was hungry, he had but to draw his trusty friend to his
face and pick the fatest game of the forest. They were
all marksmen, and dressed in buckskin breeches with skins
of other animals for other garments, and 'coonskin caps

170 WILBURN WATEES.
to cover the head with the tail hanging down behind,
where it properly belonged. The women wore skins and
linsey in.stead of crinoline, and short gowns and petticoats
instead of bal morals and hoop-skirts. They had but little,
needed but little, and wanted but little. They were as
free as birds, happy as kittens, and roamed the forest at
large, and for this liberty and these enjoyments they dared
the dangers of the tomahawk and scalping-knife, and
were ever ready to fight to the death to maintain them.
They lived like brothers, helped each other to rear their
cabins, clear their patches, roll their logs, gather their har
vests, and divided the last hoecake when necessary. If
one had occasion to rejoice they all rejoiced; if one had
occasion to mourn they all mourned. It cost but little
labor to raise a crop, the generous soil producing fifty
bushels of corn to the acre even with the deficient culture
they gave it. At first they poundered their corn for
bread, then used hand-mills, and would have been as
happy as children at a modern picnic, but for the troubles
sometimes occasioned by the predatory incursions of the
red man.
This, in some sort, is a brief history of the first settle
ment of Castle's Woods, and these items are thrown
together more for the purpose of preserving them for the
benefit of coming generations, than a mere fondness for
writing. They are believed to be accurate, and if so, they
may furnish a portion of the warp or woof of a> future
history of that beautiful but remote valley among the
mountains, in this far off corner of the Old Dominion.

CHAPTER XXIX.
TROUBLES OF THB EARLY SETTLERS.
Every little scrap of history connected with the early
settlement of this part of the State will some day become
important, and hence the writer has attempted to seek out
and gather up such scraps, in order to preserve them for
the use of the future historian.
During the spring of 1777 — several years before the
/Capture and murder of the Livingston family on the North
Fork of Holston, an account of which is given in a pre
ceding chapter — a party of Indians, under the lead of the
same half-breed Benge and a savage white man by the
name of Hargus, crossed the range of hills north of Clinch
at High Knob, and made their way to Bluegrass Fort on
Stony creek, which was not far from what is now known
as Osborn's Ford, in Scott county. The white man Har
gus had been living in the neighborhood, but had absconded
to the Indians to evade punishment for crime, and became
an inhuman persecutor of his race.
The Indians, having cautiously and stealthily approached
the river down Stony creek, and fearing they might be
•discovered, crossed some distance below and came up in
the rear of a high cliff south of and opposite the fort, con
cealing their main body in the bushes at the base. In
order to command a view of the fort, they sent one of
their number to the summit of the cliff to spy out the

172 WILBURN WATEES.
condition of the fort and to act as a decoy. He ascended
in the night,.and climbed a tall cedar with thick foliage
at the top, on the very verge of the precipice,- and just at
break of day he began to gobble like a wild turkey. This
imitation was so well executed it would have been success
ful but for the warnings of an old Indian fighter present
by the name of Matthew Gray. Hearing what they sup
posed to be a turkey, and desiring him for breakfast, some
of the younger members of the company proposed to go
up the cliff and shoot him, but Gray told them if they
wanted to keep their scalps on their heads they had better
let that turkey alone, and if they would follow his direc
tions he would give them an Indian for breakfast.
Having promised to obey his instructions, he took seve
ral of them with him to a branch which he knew to be in
full view of the Indians, and told them to wash and dab
ble in the stream to divert the attention of the enemy for
half an hour, while he went to look for the turkey, which
still continued to gobble at short intervals. Gray, having
borrowed an extra rifie from David Cox, crouched below
the bank of the stream, and in this manner followed its
course to where it emptied into the river half a mile below,
at a place known as Shallow Shoals. Here he took the
timber, eluding the vigilance of the Indians by gettihg in
their rear. He then crept cautiously up the ridge, guided
by the gobbling of the Indian in the top of the cedar on
the cliff. Getting within about seventy-five yards of the
tree, and waiting until his turkeyship had finished an
extra big gobble, he drew a bead upon him and put a ball
in his head. With a yell and spring the Indian went

WILBUEN WATEES. 173
crashing through the tree-tops and over the precipice, a
mangled mass of flesh and bones. Then commenced a
race for life. Gray had played a desperate game, and
nothing but his fleetness and his knowledge of savage craft
could save him. He knew that the Indians in ambush
would go to their companion on hearing the report of the
rifle, and that they were not more'than two hundred yards
away. He did his best running and dodging, but they
were so close upon him that he would have been captured
or killed, had not the men of the fort rushed out to his
rescue. T,he Indians, finding that they had been discovered, and
that they were not strong enough to attack or besiege the
fort, started in the direction of Castle's Woods. The
persons at Bluegrass knowing that the settlement at Castle's
Woods was not aware that the Indians were in the vicinity,
determined to warn them, but the difficulty was how this
was to be done, and who would be bold enough to under
take it, as the Indians were between the two forts. When
a volunteer for the perilous expedition was called for,
Matthew Gray, who but an hour before had made such a
narrow escape, boldly offered his services, and, getting the
fastest horse and two rifles, started out through the almost
unbroken forest. Moving cautiously along the trail, he
came near Ivy spring, about two miles from the fort, when
he saw signs which satisfied him that the Indians had
halted at the spring. There was no way to flank them,
and he must make a perilous dash or fail in his mission of
mercy. Being an old Indian fighter, he knew that they
seldom put out pickets. The trail making a short curve
near the spring, he at once formed the plan of riding

174 WILBUEN WATERS.
quietly up to the curve, and then, with a shot and a yell,
to dash through them. This he did, and before they had
sufficiently recovered from their surprise to give him a
parting volley, he was out of reach. He arrived at the
settlement in safety, and thus in all probability saved the
lives of all the settlers. The Indians, however, captured
two women on the way — Polly Alley at Osborn's Ford, as
they went up the river, and Jane Whitaker near Castle's
Woods. Finding the fort at Castle's Woods fully prepared for
their reception, the band had to abandon their murderous
purpose and pass on with their captives, without permitting
themselves to be seen. Reaching Guess' Station, they re
mained part of the night, but finding it well prepared for
defence, they continued their journey to the "Breaks,"
where the Russell and Pound forks of Big Sandy pass
through the Cumberland mountain. Here, tradition says,
they tarried half a day, and loaded themselves with silver
ore. This tradition has led some to suppose that this was
the place where Sol MuUins, the noted maker of spurious.
coin, obtained his metal, as he long inhabited that region.
After this they traveled every day, resting at night,,
until they reached the Ohio at the mouth of Sandy. Cross
ing the river on a raft of logs with their prisoners, who
suffered more than can be described or conceived on the
long march, they reached their destination at Sandusky.
The two young women were closely confined for some time
after their arrival, though they were eventually stripped
and painted and allowed the liberty of the village, closely
watched for a month or more, but seeing they made no-
attempt to escape, the Indians abated their vigilance.

WILBURN WATERS. 175
Observing this the girls determined to make an effort at
escape. Having been permitted to wander about at pleas
ure from time to time and punctually returning at night,
the Indians were thrown off their guard. Having wan
dered one day farther from the village than usual, and
being in a dense forest, they started out on the long journey
toward their'home. After traveling all night, they found
themselves only about eight miles from the village, and
finding a hollow log, they crept into it, with the determi
nation of remaining concealed during the day. They had
been in it but a few minutes before Hargus and two or
three Indians came along in pursuit and sat down upon it,
and the girls heard them form their plans for the next
day's search. Returning late in the afternoon, having lost
the trail, the Indians sat down upon the same log to rest,
and again the occupants beneath them heard their plans for
pursuit. These were, that a party should pass down each of
two rivers which had their sources near their village and
emptying into the Ohio. They became very tquch enraged
at having been baffled by two inexperienced girls, and
threatened their victims with all sorts of tortures should
they be recaptured. ' Hargus, more furious than the In
dians themselves, striking his tomahawk into the log to
emphasize his threats, and finding it return a hollow sound ^
declared the girls might be in it, as they had been traced
thus far, where the trail was lost, and sent one of the
savages to the end of the log to see. The savage went
and looked, but seeing that a spider had stretched its web
across the aperture, he made no further examination. This
web, which probably had not been there an hour, saved
them from recapture, and it may be from a .cruel death.

176 WILBUEN WATEES.
After the Indians left, the girls, having heard their
plans, left the log and resumed their weary journey, taking
a leading ridge which ran at right angles with the Ohio
and led them to it not far from opposite the mouth of
Sandy. They could hear the yells of the Indians in
pursuit each day and night until they reached the river,
when, from a high promontory, they had the satisfaction
of seeing their pursuers give up the chase and turn back
towards their village. They had nothing to eat for three
long days and nights but a partially devoured squirrel
from which they had frightened a hawk, and on the night
of the third day after the Indians had relinquished the
pursuit, they ventured to the river, where they were fortu
nate enough the next day to see a flat-boat with white
men in it descending the stream, who, on being hailed,
took them aboard, set them across at the mouth of Sandy,
and furnished them with a sufficiency of bread and dried
venison to last them two weeks, and a blanket each, in
which time they expected to make their way back to one
of the settlements on Clinch. They took their course up
Sandy on the same trail they had gone down some months.
before, but in one of the rapid and dangerous crossings of
that stream, they lost all their provisions as well as blan
kets. This, though a great calamity, did not discourage
them, but pushing on, with the blessings of kindred,
friends and home in view, they found their way through
Pound Gap and reached Guess' Station about the middle
of September, having been on the journey about a month,
after encountering hardships and dangers under which
many of the sterner sex of the present day would give
way.

CHAPTER XXX.
THE BATTLE OF LONG ISLAND PLATS.
•
The following outline of the battle of Long Island
-Flats — the last general battle of the Cherokees for the
-continued possession of their favorite hunting ground on
Holston — was taken from the lips of some of the imme
diate descendants of the pioneers who participated in the
•sanguinary struggle. It differs but slightly from the
account given in Ramsay's Annals of Tennessee, which
the writer had not seen when this outline was written
some years ago, and it may, therefore, be regarded as very
nearly if not quite correct.
This battle occurred on the 20th of July, 1776, but a
little over two weeks after the adoption of the Declaration
of Independence and the last Indian depredations at
Abingdon. It was the last grand Cherokee rally to
¦overrun the whole Holston country and to exterminate
the scattered inhabitants. Runners had been sent to all
'the Indian towns in what are now Eastern Georgia, Mid-
•dle and East Tennessee and Western North Carolina —
then the territory of the great and warlike Cherokee Na
tion — when, according to one account seven hundred, and
according to another fifteen hundred painted warriors were
igathered at a common rendezvous, and arrangements
•entered into for the bloody expedition. The principal
12

I
178 WILBUEN WATEES.
Chief of the tribe was the celebrated Dragging-Canoe, a
savage of more than common bravery and skill, who was
thought to be the equal of Tecumseh, and whose hatred
of the "pale-face" amounted to a mania. They met at
Long Island, in the South Fork of Holston, a short dis
tance above the present town of Kingsport, Tennessee, and
six or seven miles from the Virginia line. Here Dragging-
Canoe divided his forces into three divisions, one to go up
the bank of the North Fork towards its source, another
to keep up the South Fork, and the third to proceed up
the intermediate valley to Black's Fort, now Abingdon,
then the princii^al settlement in the Cherokee hunting-
grounds. The Chief himself was with the latter division,
which was the largest, anticipating the most formidable
resistance. There was a fort on each of the routes selected — one on
Watauga, a tributary of the South Fork; another in the
Fleenor settlement on the North Fork, and the third at
the base of Eden's Ridge, at the junction of what is now
known as the Blountville and Island roads. These forts
were to be first attacked and destroyed, as it was Indian
policy never to leave an enemy in rear if it could be pre
vented. This accomplished, a general and indiscriminate
massacre of the entire Holston settlement was supposed to
be an easy task, with a force very nearly equal to the
whole population.
As above stated, the three divisions started from Long
Island on the 20th day of July, 1776. A few days before
this, information of the contemplated invasion having, by
some fortunate means, reached the settlement at Eden's

WILBUEN WATEES. 179
Fort, runners were dispatched to apprise the settlements
along the rivers aud at Black's Fort. At that time there
-were three men in this county by the names of James
Thompson, John Campbell and James Shelby, each of
whom had a company of minute men, the whole compris
ing only about one hundred and seventy-five, who at once
determined to meet and attack the three divisions of In
dians in detail. Neither of the officers ranked higher than
captain, and as Mr. Thompson was the senior of the three,
he was honored with the chief command. Capt. Thomp
son lived in the vicinity of Seven Mile Ford, Captain
Campbell at Black's Fort, and Captain Shelby at or near
where the flourishing town of Bristol is now located.
As it was known that Indians on the war-path moved
with great rapidity, and as it was desirable to encounter
them as soon after their division as possible, and before
they should have time to commit many depredation.?, the
men of the three companies were gathered, armed and
equipped in a few hours, and on the night of the 19th of
July they reached Eden's Fort, only seven miles from
Long Island, whence the Indians were to start out next
morning. Early on the morning of the 20th, Captain
Thompson and his men crossed the ridge, in order to meet
the middle and principal division led by the Chief, in the
broad and beautiful bottom now belonging to Mr. James
W. Preston. Arriving before the Indians, the men were
disposed behind trees and logs, and among the tall cane,
and awaited their coming. It was a trying situation, that
calm summer morning, for that littjle handful of brave
mountaineers standing among the tall trees of that quiet

180 WILBUEN WATEES.
and blooming valley, awaiting the coming of not less, per
haps, than three times their number of painted savages
upon the war-path, breathing fire and slaughter, and led
by a Chief whose skill, courage and cruelty had made his
name a terror throughout the border. Yet they were calm
and determined, and for the sake of the jewels left in
their cabins along the bright waters of the Holston and
in the green valleys among the hills, each pledged himself
to the other to turn back the tawny tide to their distant
wigwams or leave their own bones to bleach upon the
plain. They knew the strategy of Dragging-Canoe, and
believed that he would lead his warriors along this bottom
in order to conceal his approach to Eden's Fort, and hence
they awaited his coming. They were not kept long in sus
pense, for ere the birds had ceased their matin songs, or the
sun had lifted the mist above the tree-tops, the long, silent
line of dusky warriors was discerned winding like a huge
serpent among the timber, seemingly anticipating the car
nival of blood they were to enjoy within the hour.
As the long file moved cautiously and noiselessly along,
without apparent apprehension of immediate danger, the
whites permitted the whole body to emerge from the cane
and undergrowth into the open woods before a shot was
fired or a man of the company had been discovered. At
the word of command, every white man's rifle was dis
charged, many a red-skin fell in his tracks or limped off
into the canebrake, and then commenced a running fight
from tree to tree, with rifle, tomahawk and knife. The
first volley, however, had killed and crippled so many of
the Indians, a panic soon seized the balance, and in a run-

WIL:]^UEN WATEES. 181
Ding fight of some six miles across the flats to Long Island,
some forty Indians were slain, with probably more than
twice that number wounded, the Chief being among the
latter, and not a single white man killed or seriously in
jured. In passing over the ground a year or two ago, from the
spot where the battle commenced a portion of the way to
where it terminated, the writer's mind instinctively wan
dered back to those stirring times when the ancestors of
those who now so quietly aud happily till the same fields
went to their work with their rifles in their hands, and
were frequently shot down in the furrow by a lurking foe.
He was shown the narrow ravine up which the retreating
Indians passed from the bottoms to the flats, and the iden
tical trail, still marked by a tree or some other indication,
along which they fled to the island in the river, which
they had left that calm summer morning with a burning
thirst for blood. Reaching this they were safe; for,
although the whites pursued them to the very margin of
the stream, and strewed the entire route with the slain,
they could not reach the island without fearful loss, and
fell back to Eden's Fort. Dragging-Canoe, flnding that
he had lost a large number of his warriors, and that intelli
gence of his plans and purposes had reached all the settle
ments, sent runners after the other divisions, who returned
by circuitous routes, made a hasty retreat to their distant
towns, and never afterwards appeared in force in the Hol
ston settlements.
Long Island is now a magnificent farm of several hun-

182 WILBUEN WATEES.
dred acres, and the whole country, from Mr. Preston's
bottom to the river, is laid off in broad fields, dotted with
comfortable homesteads, and teems with an intelligent and
thrifty population, most of them descendants of those who
reared their rud^ cabins in the unbroken forest and endured
all the hardships and dangers incident to pioneer life.

CHAPTER XXXI.
REMARKABLE INCIDENTS IN PIONEER LIFE.
This chapter will comprise some interesting incidents
•culled from a mass of traditions gathered by the writer in
his long intercourse with the descendants of the pioneers
of the mountains. He gives them as he received them,
without actually knowing them to be true in all their
details, but believing them to be so in the main, although
some of them may largely partake of the marvellous — but
let it not be forgotten that "truth is often stranger than
Action." A preceding chapter speaks of Burk, the discoverer of
that magnificent valley high up among the mountains in
Tazewell county, still bearing his name, and it is now pro
posed to give another incident in his eventful life. .
After discovering and for several years before removing
his family to the Garden, Mr. Burk was in the habit,
during the summer, of visiting it for the purpose of hunt
ing and grazing his stock. Having remained there with
two companions one season later than usual, for the pur
pose of tanning some hides he had on hand, about the
period that the Shawnees, under the lead of the great Chief
Cornstalk, were making incursions as far eastward as the
Shenandoah Valley, the weather became quite cold before
they were able to start for the settlement on New river.
Having crossed the mountain forming the northern

V
184 WILBURN WATEES.
boundary of the Garden, with several pack-horses loaded)
with rolls of leather, night overtook them at what is now-
known as Sharon, a beautiful watering-place in Bland
county. Instead of camping out, as was the custom in
those days, they took shelter for the night in a rude struc
ture of logs that had been thrown up for the protection
of hunters and graziers in cold and stormy weather..
Tying their horses to the trees, and throwing their rolls of
leather on the floor, they started up a fire in the hut, par
took of their simple meal, and lay down to rest. Hearing
a strange noise during the night, and supposing something
to be the matter with one of their horses, one of their men,
who happened to be awake at the moment, arose and looked
out, but seeing that the horses were all quiet, he returned
to the fire and soon fell asleep again.
Rising at an early hour, and going out to feed their-
horses before starting for a long day's travel through an
unbroken wilderness, they were astonished to find one of
the horses dead, having been stabbed with a large knife
during the night. From this and other indications they
had unmistakable evidence that Indians had been prowl
ing around while they slept, and were puzzled to conjecture
why the marauders had not made an attack upon them, as.
there were but three of them, and all sleeping soundly
from the fatigues of the preceding day. They hurriedly
gathered up the balance of the horses, packed on the rolls
of leather and started along the trace, in momentary
expectation of Jjeing surprised and perhaps murdered by-
an ambushed foe. They had gone but a mile or two,,
when they came to a camp-fire in the woods, and were-

WILBUEN WATEES. 185
Startled at the horrid sight of the bodies of three while
men, who had been murdered as they slept, and scalped,
apparently but a few hours before.
The death of the horse had pretty well satisfied them
that Indians had been lurking about, but now they had
no doubt but that there was a party of Cornstalk's scouts..
on the war-path. They disposed of the murdered men
as best they could under the circumstances, hurried on to
the nearest settlement and gave the alarm. The presence
of an Indian; like that of a mad dog in New England,.
instantly roused the population, and it was but a very
short time till scouting parties were out and on the trail..
One of the parties came upon the Indians, five or six in
number, the next day, on Walker's Creek, and killed all
but one, who escaped their fire, but who was subsequently
captured. He revealed to his captors that his party had
followed Burk's trail, came to his camp about midnight,
peeped through the logs of the hut to see how many
were there, and mistaking the rolls of leather lying about
the floor for so many men, they concluded the party was
too strong to attack, unless they were asleep, and killed
the horse to see if the noise would arouse them. The cir
cumstance of one of Burk's companions looking out when
he heard the noise led the Indians to believe that the-
whole party were awake, and hence they passed ¦ on to the
other party whose trail they had seen, and murdered and
plundered them. The rolls of leather saved Burk and his.
companions that night, but he and his family were mur
dered by the Indians a few years later.
About this period, there was a family living on Walker's.

186 WILBU:9N WATEES.
Creek, in what is now Bland county, by the name of
White. During one of the predatory incursions of the
Indians, they captured and carried off a little boy belong
ing to the family. A number of years after, during one
of the expeditions of General Clarke to quell the Indians
in Kentucky, he had encamped on the bank of the Ohio,
awaiting the return of scouts who had been sent out to
reconnoitre. One of his men, by the name of White, from
Walker's Creek, and brother of the boy that had been
stolen, was out a short distance from camp in search of
game, when he saw a solitary Indian sitting on a log
mending his moccasins. His first impulse was to shoot
him, as all the Indians in that ^gion were hostile, but
fearing the report of his gun might start up a score of
red-skins in the vicinity, and as the back of the savage
on the log was toward him, he concluded to approach
stealthily and capture him alive. He did so, and took
him into camp. From his hair and other indications, they
supposed him. to be a white man, and after compelling him
to scrub the paint off, their suspicions were confirmed, and
they subsequently learned through an interpreter — as the
captive had forgotten his native language — that his name
was White, had been stolen by the Indians from his home
in Virginia when a child, and eventually proved to be
the brother of the man who captured him, and came so
near taking his life.
The brothers lived many years, settled in Kentucky,
and he who had been so many years among the Indians
was a delegate in the Legislature in the early organization
•of the State.

CHAPTER XXXII.
A SINGULAR INCIDENT IN THE LIFE OP HON. WILLIAM C.
, PRESTON.
To give variety as well as interest to this hastily gotten
' up little volume, the writer has interspersed a chapter here
and there illustrating the troubles and sufferings of the
pioneers of this part df Virginia, a few hunting adven
tures of others than the great trapper of White Top, and
he now proposes to give a chapter narrating a curious inci
dent in the early life of the Hon. William C. Preston.
All who have arrived at the age of maturity in South
western Virginia, know that the above named distinguished
orator and Senator of South Carolina, and who died in
that State a few years ago, was a native of the town of
Abingdon, Virginia, and that this was his home from in
fancy to manhood. Having, however, left Virginia at the
age of twenty-four, he was better known by his briUiant
career and world-wide reputation than by a personal in
tercourse with the people of his native hills. He was
born in 1798, and about the year 1815 entered Columbia
-College, South Carolina. He was the grand-nephew of
Patrick Henry, and the grandson of General William
Campbell, the hero of King's mountain, and inherited the
eloquence of one and the name of the other, and the talents
and patriotism of both. During his collegiate course, he
spent his vacations at home, and determined, on one occa-

188 WILBUEN WATERS.
sion, instead of taking the tedious and circuitous stage
route back to his school, to mount his horse and ride-
through the mountains, as he loved the beautiful in nature,.
and could thus see and enjoy the grand scenery along the
Laurel, Watauga, Yadkin and Catawba, and have the
opportunity of visiting King's mountain, the field upon
which his ancestor had led, in 1781?, many of the brave
yeomen of his native county, the dust of a number of
whom was left to mingle with the soil of that remote and
silent battle-field.
Leaving Abingdon, Mr. Preston proceeded up the Lau
rel, one of the most rapid and dangerous streams in all
this mountain country, and much more dangerous to ford
at that day than now, and which he was compelled to cross.
twenty-six times in less than half as many miles. The
gorge through which it winds and tumbles is still among
the wildest and most romantic in all this region, precipices
on either side of the narrow pass rising to the height of'
thousands of feet in places, and even at this day the covert
of wolves and bears, and any number of venomous rep
tiles. Leaving this and passing along the picturesque table
land where the pleasant little village of Taylorsville sits.
like a queen on her throne, his path led him across the
Iron mountain into the valley of Watauga at the base of
the Blue Ridge, where, spread out in rare and wonderful
beauty, the "Vale of the Cross," the location selected.
many years ago by the eccentric Bishop Ives, of North
Carolina, for his impracticable school of celibacy. Passing
this, the road, measuring twenty-three miles in its wind-

WILBUEN WATEES. 189
t
ings, begins to ascend the Blue Ridge, crossing which it
passes on the summit two springs, not more than three
hundred yards apart, one the source of New river, running
north hundreds of miles to the Ohio, and the other the
source of the Yadkin, running soiith as many miles to the
Atlantic. Here, too, within a fe^ minutes' walk of these
springs, is Blowing Rock, one 6f the grandest natural
curiosities with which these mountains abound. This
rock is upon the summit of the Ridge, overlooking the
valley of John's river, which winds two thousand feet
below. The rock derives its name from the circumstance
that a man standing upon it may cast his hat out over the
chasm beneath, which, after hanging in midair a moment,
will float back high above him, and may, as did that of
the writer's on one occasion, lodge in the top of a tree.
This is caused by the shelving nature of the rock on the
under side, which, catching all the winds, sends them out
in a strong current, although there may not be a zephyr
stirring anywhere else in the vicinity.
Leaving this point, the rough bridle-path, as it was
when Mr. Preston traveled it, wound along the bank of
the tortuous Yadkin — upon which Daniel Boon grew to
manhood and married his wife — to the southern base of
the Blue Ridge, where the country opens out wide and
fertile, and which was one of the favorite hunting ranges
of the Catawba Indians. Passing through these broad
and now highly cultivated bottoms, then all covered with
timber and cane, Mr. Preston followed the trace that now
passes through the handsome and thriving villages of
Xenoir and Newton, to the old town of Lincolnton, a

190 WILBUEN WATEES. «
place of note and enterprise before the Revolution, but
more notorious in later years as the locality of " Ramsour's.
Mill Pond," into which the patriotic yeomen of the vicinity
drove' and drowned a number of Tories during the old
war. Resting here for the night, Mr. Preston left next morn
ing for King's mountain, only fifteen miles distant. Riding
leisurely along, admiring the wild honeysuckle, laurel and
ivy, here so variegated and gaudy, and charmed with the
mist-like appearance of the mountains far in his rear, he-
halted near the middle of the day at a wayside inn, called
for dinner for himself and feed for his horse, and here
occurred the incident the writer has taken such a round
about way to approach. When it is remembered that Mr.
Preston was the grandson of General CampbeU, who almost
annihilated the Tories in the neighborhood of that inn,,
the incident that follows will be better understood. While
dinner was preparing, he threw himself upon the grass in
the yard under the trees. The landlady seemed to be ex
cited and uneasy, frequently passing and scrutinizing him.
very critically, with not the most pleasant cast of counte
nance in the world. When the meal came on, and he was.
seated at the table, she planted herself opposite to and
riveted her eyes upon him, with something like a savage
scowl. Seeing that she had attracted his notice by her
manner, she thus addressed him :
"Young man, I 'spose you've noticed me lookin'at you,.
and I can't help it. I'd like to know your name and
where you live." ^
"Certainly, madam," replied Mr. Preston, "you shall
be gratified. My name is Preston, and I live in Virginia."'

WILBUEN WATEES. 191
The old lady, as if relieved of a painful apprehension,
responded: "Well, well, I'm mighty glad your name is
Preston, and it is a lucky thing for you that it is, but you
look so much like the meanest and wickedest man I ever
saw in my life, that it made my blood bile as soon as I sot
eyes on you. His name was Campbell, the head-devil
amoiig a band of rebel robbers and murderers that fit and
killed Colonel Furguson and a heap of our people on that
ridge yonder a good many years ago, and the last time I
saw my poor dear husband alive, that bad man was riding
behind him sticking a bagnet in him to make him keep-
up with their bosses. If your name had been Campbell —
and I was afraid it was, because you look so much like
him — I don't know what the boys mout have done to you
when they come into dinner."
Mr. Preston, of course, didn't inform her of the relation
ship between General Campbell and himself, when he
found that he was in the house of a widow of one of the
Tories his grandfather had hung to a limb in the neighbor
ing forest.
Mr. Preston often related this incident as one of the
adventures of his boyhood, but the writer has related it
for the purpose of giving those of his readers who have
never seen the section through which he passed, a faint
conception of the magnificent scenery of all that long and
towering mountain range which seems to have been piled
up for the purpose of putting a barrier between Virginia
and North Carolina, and from the summit of which vast
portions of the two great States may be seen from the
same stand-point. He traveled the identical route in 1860

192 WILBUEN WATEES.
pursued by Mr. Preston more than half a century before,
then a mere bridle-path, now a broad turnpike, with here
and there a beautiful farm in the plains, and on the gentler
slopes the cabins of happy families, many of whom never
saw a Yankee, and knew but little of the terrible struggle
«that so recently convulsed all the rest of the world.

CHAPTER XXXIII.
MASSACRE AND CAPTIVITY OP THE PIONEERS OF ABB'S VALLEY.
A book of the character of this, professing to illustrate
the more prominent incidents of pioneer life among these
mountains, would be very incomplete without some refe
rence to the Indian massacre in Abb's Valley in 1786.
The following epitome, therefore, is made up both from
what the writer has heard from the lips of some of the
-older citizens and what has been written by others, so
blended that he finds the use of inverted commas imprac
ticable. Abb's Valley is situated in the northeast corner of Taze
well county, some fourteen miles from Jeffersonville and
about the same from Burk's Garden in the southern corner,
the three points forming a triangle. It is a very rich and
picturesque valley, twelve miles long and less than a
¦quarter wide, hemmed in between two ridges. A very
remarkable feature in it is, that whilst there are numerous
bold springs, there is no stream upon the surface. These
springs break out from the hillsides, run a few paces and
disappear, all combining to make a con.siderable subter
ranean creek which has been discovered in various places
not far below the surface, and which eventually finds its
way out and constitutes one of the principal sources of
Bluestone, a tributary of New river, the latter being the
(Principal tributary of the Kanawha, which empties into
13

194 WILBUEN WATEES.
the Ohio at Point Pleasant. Another singular feature is,,
that in the ridges surrounding Abb's Valley are found the
sources of four noted rivers — Kanawha to the east. Big
Sandy and Guyandotte to the north, and Clinch to the
west — the latter a tributary to the Tennessee. All rising
within a mile or two of each other, they flow away
in different directions, and finally unite in the Ohio hun
dreds of miles apart. The mountains from this point also
form singular features in the topography of the country.
Standing on top of Sandy Ridge (the northern boundary
of the Valley), you see Clinch, Point Lick, Rich and other
great ranges running parallel from east to west, and then
a number of high and rugged ranges, each with its local
name, all running transversely, or from south to north,
and terminating at or near the Ohio river. The war
paths of the Indians were on the summits of the latter
ranges. These peculiarities may seem of minor importance to the
casual observer, but to the man of thought they are of
absorbing interest, affording pleasure in their contempla
tion, illustrating, as they do, the wonderful and magnifi
cently arranged topography of this unrivaled country..
"But," a reader may say, " I don't care anything about
your ridges and water-courses — let us have something
about the early settlement of Abb's Valley and the Indian
massacre you have promised." Very well, you sh^U be
gratified — and in order to do so the more accurately and
graphically, the writer will be under the necessity of draw
ing most of his facts from a concise history of Virginia
compiled by Mr. Henry Howe in 1837, with whom he had

WILBUEN WATEES. 195
the pleasure of an acquaintance and the honor of assisting
to a trifling extent.
Abb's Valley (says Mr. Howe) was settled by James
Moore in 1 775. He removed from Rockbridge county, and
was induced to emigrate to this spot on account of its fer
tility and its adaptedness to stock-raising. There, with
the aid of an old Englishman by the name of John Simp
son, he erected his cabin ; and with his pious wife, both being
members of the Presbyterian Church, he erected his altar
tq Goql, cleared a piece of ground, and there resided with
his family till they were destroyed, frequently going into
fort, which was almost every summer. The first of his
family who was captured was James, his second son, a lad
in the fourteenth year of his age. This occurred on the
7th of September, 1784. This son died some six or eight
years ago, and the following facts were related by himself;
He had been sent by his father to a distant field in the
Valley to catch a horse to go to mill, when three Indians,
one of them an old man and the others youths, sprang
from behind a log and captured him. This was about the
middle of the day, and they immediately proceeded with
him on the journey to their towns on the Miami. As
these were some three hundred miles distant, the tramp
was of course painful and distressing to the boy. He
finally arrived at Chillicothe, the principal Indian town,
where he was very well treated and kept a year, when he
was taken to Detroit and sold. We will here leave James
Moore for a time and return to Abb's Valley and the stir
ring events that subsequently transpired.
Such was the fertility of the soil and the excellency of

196 WILBUEN WATEES.
the spontaneous grass, that Mr. Moore kept about one
hundred horses and a large stock of cattle, which princi
pally wintered themselves. On the 14th of July 1788 —
not quite two years after the capture of his son — early in
the morning, a gang of horses had come in from the range
to the lick-blocks, about one hundred yards from the house,
and Mr. Moore had gone out to- salt them. Two men
living with him had gone out to a field to reap wheat.
The Indians, about thirty in number, who were lying in
ambush watching the house, supposing that all the men
were absent, rushed forward with all speed. As they ad
vanced they commenced firing, and killed three children
in the yard. Mr. Moore attempted to get to the house,
but finding it surrounded, ran past through a lot in which
the house stood. When he reached the fence he made a
halt, and was shot through with seven bullets. After he
was shot he ran about forty yards and fell. He was then
scalped by the Indians, and afterwards buried by the
whites on the spot where he fell, and where his grave may
still be seen. The two men who were reaping, hearing
the firing and seeing the house surrounded, fled and
alarmed the settlements — the nearest being six miles dis
tant. As soon as the alarm was given, Mrs. Moore and
a young woman living with her by the name of Martha
Ivins, barred the door. There was no man in the house
except the old Englishman, John Simpson, and he was
sick in bed on the loft. There were several guns in the
house, but they were all empty. Martha Ivins took two
of them up to Simpson, but she found him in a dying con
dition, having been shot in the head through a crack.

WILBUEN WATEES. 197
The Indians then proceeded to cut down the door, during
which time Martha Ivins lifted a plank and went under
the floor, requesting Polly Moore (then only eight years
old), who had the youngest child in her arms (which was
crying), to leave it and come under also. Polly looked at
the child a moment, clasped it to her heart, and deter
mined to share its fate.
The Indians having broken into the house, took Mrs.
Moore and her children — viz : John, Jane, Polly and
Ppggy — prisoners, set fire to the buildings and left. Mar
tha remained under the floor a short time, and then came
out without being seen and hid unc^er a log that lay across
the spring branch. The Indians having tarried a short
time for the purpose of catching horses, one of them sat
down upon the log to fix his gunlock, when Miss Ivins,
supposing he had seen her and was about to shoot, came
out and gave herself up. They then started for their
towns. Perceiving that John Moore was a boy weak in
both body and mind, and unable to travel, they killed him
the first day. A few days after they dashed out the brains
of the babe against a tree. The journey was a very long,
and sore one, and for days together they were without
food. They finally reached the Indian towns on the
Miami, where Polly fell into the hands of an Indian and
his squaw who were very kind to her. Mrs. Moore and
her daughter Jantf were burnt at the stake. Their tortures
lasted some time, during which Mrs. Moore manifested the
utmost Christian fortitude, at intervals conversing with
her daughter Polly and Martha Ivins, and expressing
great anxiety for the moment to arrive when her soul
would soar away to the better inheritance.

198 WILBURN WATERS.
We will now return to James Moore, who had been cap
tured nearly two years before, and was still in captivity at
Detroit. Through a Shawnee, with whom he formed an
acquaintance while at Chillicothe, he first learned the fate
of his father's family about a year after it had occurred.
His sister Polly and Martha Iviris subsequently fell into
the hands of the whites not far from where James was
living, and being ransomed they finally all got together,
and after a weary travel through an unbroken wilderness
for most of the way, they were fortunate enough to get
back to their relatives in Rockbridge county. James
Moore eventually returned to Abb's Valley, where he lived
to a good old age, raised a large family, and died, as already
stated, only a few years ago.
Polly remained in Rockbridge. At the age of twelve
she was baptized' and received into the communion of the
Presbyterian Church. She subsequently married the Rev.
Samuel Brown, a distinguished Presbyterian clergyman.
She became the mother of eleven children — of whom one
died in infancy, another while quite young; one is a ruling
elder in the Presbyterian Church, another married a pious
physician, another a clergyman, five were Presbyterian
ministers, and the remaining one a communicant of the
church. One of her sons, a Presbyterian clergyman, was
an assistant editor of a religious paper in Richmond a few
years ago. She carried a copy of the New Testament with
her throughout her captivity, and her last legacy was a
Bible to each of her children.
Martha Ivins married a man by the name of Hummer,
emigrated to Indiana, and reared a family of children*

WILBURN WATERS. 199
Two of her sons were Presbyterian ministers, and were, a
few years ago, one in the Presbytery of Crawfordsville, and
the other in the Presbytery of Iowa.
The old place in Abb's Valley is now occupied by the
son of James Moore, or his family, and the green fields and
fruitful orchards are smiling, and the inhabitants as happy
as if the stillness of that beautiful vale had never been
broken by the war-whoop, or its soil stained with the
blood of the pioneer who erected the first cabin for his
family and the first altar to his Master, amid the tall trees
•and fragrant wild flowers.

CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE MASSACRE OF ARCHIBALD SCOTT AND HIS CHILDREN,
AND THE CAPTIVITY OF HIS WIFE.
The writer has somewhere read a very brief and imper
fect account of the murder of Archibald Scott and his-
children, the captivity of his wife, her sufferings among
the Indians and subsequent escape; but the following
narrative is written from data furnished by Dr. James W.
Sage, of Lee county, and Mrs. Elizabeth Johnson, the
youngest daughter of Mrs. Scott, now about ninety years
of age, and living in the adjoining county of Russell.
The statements, therefore, may be relied on as accurate.
Archibald Scott was one of the pioneers of that quiet
and beautiful little valley that nestles between Powell's
mountain and Waldron's ridge in Lee county, along which
Walling's creek winds its noisy and meandering way, and
which is now the home of .so many prosperous and happy
families. This little valley was selected by the first set
tlers for its fertility, its water facilities, its superior range, .
romantic surroundings, and remoteness from the usual
route of the predatory bands of Indians, who, at that day,
occasionally left their towns beyond the Ohio to prey upon
the scattered settlers on the Holston. Mr. Scott had mar
ried Miss Fanny Dickinson, of Russell county, many of
whose relatives are still living there. Being the daughter
of one of the brave and hardy pioneers of Castle's Woods,,,

WILBURN WATERS. 201
she had been reared amid the dangers and excitements of'
frontier life, and hence was a companion upon whose cool
ness and fortitude her fearless and enterprising husband
could depend in their new home on the verge of civiliza
tion. They removed to it in 1782 — just nine years after
Daniel Boone had passed along the same trace with his
family on their way to the wilderness beyond the Cumber
land, and six years before the Indian raid on the Living
ston family on Holston. He located a corn-right to all that
valuable tract of 1,000 acres, subsequently owned by Mr.
Robert Duff, and still in the possession of Mr. Duff's de
scendants. Mr. Scott erected his cabin on the head waters
of Walling's creek, near the spot now occupied by the re
sidence of Mr. Thomas D. Duff.
Here, with his wife and little ones, he was living on the
rewards of honest toil, and doubtless looking forward with
prophetic vision to the day, not far in the future, when
that rich and romantic valley, reposing so quietly among
the mountains, would teenj with wealth and a happy popu
lation. He bared his brawny arm and cleared the forest,,
and for three years his cabin was the home of contentment,
plenty and domestic joys. In June, 1785, the family,
after a day of toil, and partaking of their frugal meal, had
retired to rest, without a thought, perhaps, of impending
danger, and dreaming, perchance, of the luxuriant harvest
so soon to be reaped and garnered. That pleasant summer
day, as Mr. Scott was toiling amid the growing corn, he
was seen and watched by a band of about twenty Shawnee
Indians, who, by some means, had been diverted from
their usual route, and having observed the smoke arising

202 WILBURN WATERS.
from the cabin, were attracted towards it, and lay in am
bush on the mountain-side till night spread her curtain
over the valley. When all was quiet they approached and
entered, and the first notice the husband and father had of
their presence was the gleam of the tomahawk that killed
him in his bed. The leader of the band was the cruel and
notorious half-breed Benge, who was killed three years
-after not many miles from the same place, as he was making
¦his way to Big Stone Gap with the Livingston captives.
After scalping Mr. Scott, they murdered and scalped his
five children, plundered and burned the cabin, took Mrs.
Scott prisoner, and started back on their long journey
to their towns beyond the Ohio. Her sufferings during
this journey, over steep mountains and through deep and
rapid streams, were indescribable. When, faint and weary
and foot-sore, she failed to travel as rapidly as her captors
desired, they would slap her in the face with the bloody
scalps of her husband and children. Being a woman of
great strength, activity and nerve, she bore up wonderfully,
and even surprised the .savages by her endurance.
After traveling about two hundred miles, and reaching
one of their favorite hunting-grounds in Kentucky, not
far from the Ohio, they stopped a few days to rest and
hunt. It was decided among them that one of the Indians,
when they reached their town on the Miami (should have
their captive for a wife, and hence he was designated to
guard her while the rest were engaged in the hunt. Some
hours after they had left, the Indian on guard fell into a
profound sleep, seeing which, and making a noise that did
not seem to disturb his slumbers, she determined to kill

WILBURN WATERS. 203
him with his own tomahawk, which lay by his side, and
then try to escape. She took the weapon and raised it
abo,ve his head, but being weak and nervous from fatigue
and distress of mind, she feared she might not be able to
strike a fatal blow, and concluded to make an effort to es
cape. She made her way to a spring a short distance from
the camp, waded along the branch to conceal her trail, and
was soon safe from the pursuit of her guard in a thick
canebrake. Hearing those who were hunting not a great
way off, she waited until their whooping died in the dis
tance, when she started out on the long and perilous journey
toward the Cumberland mountain, the dim outline of
which she had seen as she crossed an elevation. For weeks
she wandered through the unbroken forest, without food
and almost destitute of raiment, subsisting on berries,
barks and roots, and many days wandering so much out
of her way as to make but a mile or two. Finally coming
fb a river (supposed to be the Kentucky), she found a path
on the bank, which she followed. One morning, while
following the path up stream, she heard the hunting party
meeting her, and seeing a large sycamore near the path,
she stepped behind it, and fortunately found it hollow
where she concealed herself till the Indians had passed.
A day or two after this, and before she had reached the
head waters of the stream, she heard the Indians on her
trail with dogs. She crawled into a hollow log that lay
across the path, over which some of them jumped their
ponies and others passing around the end without discover
ing her.
After the Indians had disappeared she followed on very

204 WILBURN WATEES.
cautiously till she came to where the path forked. This
perplexed her somewhat, not knowing which to take. She
finally took the left, which seemed tobe the plainest, when
a bird flew past, touched her shoulder, and lighted in the
other path. She kept on, however, but had proceeded but
a few steps when the bird repeated its singular action.
This led her to stop and reflect, and coming to the con
clusion that the bird was the spirit of one of her murdered
children come to guide her through the wilderness, she
took the other, path, which proved to be the right one, and
led her through what is now known as Pound Gap. She
eventually made her way into Castle's Woods, where many
of her relatives resided and still reside.
After some years Mrs. Scott married Mr. Thomas John
son, for whom the county of that name in Tennessee was
called. She raised a family of children, all of whom
married and became useful and respectable members of
society. She lived to an advanced age, and her ashes noW'
repose on a little hillock near the old blacksmith shop, not
far from the base of Clinch mountain at Hayter's Gap, in
Russell county, Virginia.

CHAPTER XXXV.
BRIEF HISTORY OF TWO COLLEGES.
Emory and Henry. — As everything in connection with
the origin of Emory and Henry will be interesting to the
people of Southwestern Virginia, who, for forty years
iave shared most largely of its benefits, the writer pro
poses to give all the little incidents that have come to his
knowledge connected with its inception and final success.
In 1832 or 1833, Holston Conference appointed Rev.
Creed Fulton an agent to solicit subscriptions to establish
a college at Strawberry Plains, Tennessee. He worked at
it faithfully for a year or two, and, although a man of in
domitable energy, he became discouraged at the meagre-
ness of the subscriptions, and returned to his home in
Southwestern Virginia to rest a little while and see after
his children, who had been left motherless in the mean
time. On his way home to Grayson county, Virginia, he called
at the residence of his old friend Tobias Smyth, Esq.,
within a mile of the spot subsequently selected for the
location of the College, to return a horse he had borrowed
from that gentleman, and to this trivial incident, in all
probability, may be traced the origin of Emory and Henry.
During the evening, Mr. Fulton made known his dis
couragements to Squire Smyth, who at once suggested that
Conference ought to authorize the location of the College
-at any point within its bounds where the people would

206 WILBUEN WATERS.
subscribe most liberally, and then said: "If you will pur
chase my neighbor Crawford's farm for the purpose, which
is a very fine one, and can be bought for much less than,
its value, I will give you $600 to begin with." This ex
actly coincided with the views of Mr. Fulton, who, with
those brilliant eyes of his sparkling with hope and deter
mination, rose to his feet and exclaimed "Good! I'll
make that $500 worth 5,000 to the enterprise."
It was then arranged between them that Mr. Fulton
should present the claims of the new enterprise at a sale
to take placeat the residence of Mr. John Smyth, lately
deceased, which he did, and made a good impression. It
was the first public effort in behalf of Emory and Henry,
at the house now occupied by Mrs. Polly Smyth, about
one mile north of the College.
Mr. Fulton and Squire Smyth then visited Colonel Wil
liam Byars, who, without hesitating a moment, gave his
name for $600, and Mr. Alexander Findlay, of Abingdon,
whose heart was also in the work, and who subsequently
gave it nearly all his time and influence, as well as large
loans from his own pocket, followed up with a subscription
of $500. This was a splendid beginning according to
numbers, and resulted in a grand consummation.
The Conference of 1834 now came on at Knoxville,
which Mr. Fulton attended, was reappointed agent, and
Colonel Byars, Mr. Alexander Findlay and Squire Smyth
were appointed an executive committee, with authority to.
purchase land and locate the College as soon as the collec
tions of Mr. Fulton would justify it. Washington county,
Virginia, having given a much larger subscription than
auy other, the Crawford farm, before spoken of, of six

WILBUEN WATEES. 207'
hundred acres, was purchased at $8.50 per acre cash, and
the work commenced. It was deemed necessary to have a
large farm, as the original design was to have a manual
labor school, where the students could defray a portion of
their expenses by agricultural or mechanical labor. But
this plan wouldn't work and was relinquished in a year
or two.
The farm having been purchased for cash, and the agent
not being able to make collections as promptly as necessary,
Mr. Findlay, on his own responsibility and at his own risk,
borrowed $5,000 from a bank in Knoxville. This virtually
put the great work under way, which has been such a suc
cess and such a blessing to all this mountain region and to
States adjacent, as well as to the whole South. The money
being paid and the deed obtained, the executive committee
took possession, employed a farmer and laborers, went to
fencing and repairing and made a crop. They did not
submit plans and specifications and let to the lowest bidder,
but purchased the materials and employed skilful me
chanics to superintend the work. Neither of the members
of the committee had a knowledge of architecture, but Mr.
Findlay drafted the plan of the College and Colonel Byars
that of the Steward's Hall, both large and convenient
buildings, though not quite as prepossessing in appearance as
edifices of more modern style. They gave the work their
unremitting attention, one or another of them daily super
intending till the buildings were completed and the school
in operation.
They took care to keep the credit of the institution. at
par, by paying the workmen and others promptly, and to
do this, had to draw on their own private resources to the

'208 WILBUEN WATEES.
amount of some $12,000 at one time. Mr. Fulton per
formed his part faithfully and well, paid over as fast as he
could collect, and thus to those four gentlemen, only one
of them wealthy, and neither of them collegians, are the
people of Southwestern Virginia indebted for Emory and
Henry College, one of the best and most flourishing lite
rary institutions in the South or out of it — a College cost
ing about $25,000, now valued at f 100,000, and compara
tively out of debt. Messrs. Byars, Smyth, Findlay and
Fulton all lived to see the fruition of their labors, cares
and sacrifices, but are now all "gathered to their fathers,"
while the noble institution they so largely contributed to
found will be a monument to their generous devotion while
one brick of the superstructure shall rest upon another.
The enterprise, as already stated, was started in 1834,
the corner-stone laid in 1836, aud the school, under the
management of Rev. Charles Collins, in full blast in 1838.
President Collins was popular and successful, and built
up the school very rapidly. He resigned in 1852, and
was succeeded by Rev. E. E. Wiley, D. D., who had been
a professor in the institution almost from the beginning,
and under whose continued management to the present
day it has enjoyed a reputation and success of which he,
in common with the Holston Conference, may justly feel
proud. The school all these years has had the benefit of
Professor Langley's scholarly attainments; and Professors
Davis, Buchanan and Vawter, who so ably fill their several
chairs in the faculty, were all distinguished graduates of
the institution, as was, also, Professor William E. Peters,
now Professor of Latin in the University of Virginia.

WILBUEN WATEES. 209

Martha Washington. — Martha Washington College, at
Abingdon, has a reputation and efficiency equal to any
Female College in the South, and promises to become one
¦of the most popular and prosperous. The idea of its erec
tion originated in the minds of a few individual members
of the Abingdon Lodge of Odd Fellows, all of them
without patronage, influence or means. However, believ
ing themselves to be right and the enterprise plausible and
worthy of persistent effort, they kept the ball in motion.
The magnitude of the work to be undertaken by a body
of not more than fifty men, most of them living from
¦" hand to mouth," was regarded by the masses as visionary,
if not absolutely preposterous. Those who submitted the
wild proposition, as it was called, like the "Sainted Mar-
:tyr," kept "pegging away," notwithstanding the ridicule
and animadversions of wiser heads, until at length, to test
the Jnatter and see if there was anything feasible in it, a
committee was appointed by the Lodge to consider and
report upon the proposition — with the purpose, no doubt,
by the majority, to put the question to rest forever; but
the report of the committee brought up discussion, discus
sion begat inquiry, inquiry resulted in effort, and effort
¦eventually struggled to success. A subscription was started
in the Lodge, when four members — Messrs. Beverly R.
•Johnston, T. G. McConnell, William King Heiskell and
D. C. Dunn — neither of them wealthy, each subscribed
-$600, and some fifteen or twenty others from $100 up to
-$500 each. This was a promising beginning, when the
14

210 -W^ILBUEN WATERS.
whole Lodge became canvassers, and the aggregate amount
soon ran up to $25,000.
Plans were now entered into, twelve acres of land pur
chased at one hundred dollars per acre, contracts concluded,.
and the walls of an immense brick structure erected and
covered with tin. Hfere the fund became exhausted, the
work suspended, and before an effort was made to resume
the walls became warped and cracked, and the whole
edifice, after an expenditure of $30,000, was discovered to
be a failure and abandoned. The spirit, however, to have
a college had gone abroad, and "agitate, agitate, agitate,"
became the watch-word. The Lodge, finding itself hope
lessly scotched and unable to proceed, finally determined
to shift the labor and responsibility to shoulders better
able to bear them, and proposed to turn the job over to.
the Holston Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church
South. After a vast amount of discussion, consideration
and casting about — weighing the chances of success and
estimating the advantages to be derived — that body took
charge of it, assumed the payment of a debt of $10,000,
relinquished the half-finished edifice, disposed of the ma
terials for about $8,000, redeeded the land to its former
owner, and purchased the splendid mansion and grounds
of Colonel T. L; Preston in the suburbs of- the village
at $22,000, payable in five equal instalments. All these
transactions occurred from 1850 to 1859, and in 1860 the
school was started under the presidency of Rev. William
A. Harris, A. M., at present in charge of the W^esleyan
Female Institute at Staunton, the only Female College,,
perhaps, under the patronage of the Baltimore Conference

WILBURN WATEES. 211
Martha Washington opened prosperously, matriculating,
the first regular term, one hundred and fifty young ladies,
fifty of whom were boarders. The war coming on, the
patronage became precarious and fluctuating, and rumors
of raids frequently scattered the pupils like partridges on
the mountain. President Harris, by unflagging energy,
devotion and skill, kept th^ machinery in motion, paid
by his labors, with the assistance of an agent, a portion of
the debt — which now amounted to thirty-odd thousand
dollars — and gave the institution, both at home and abroad,
a reputation equal to any school in the South or the Union.
He was succeeded in 1865 by Rev. B. Arbogast, A. M.,
under whose management, from the pressure of debt and
other causes, it was not as prosperous as it had been, though
the curriculum was of the highest grade, and the faculty
all that could be desired.
President Arbogast resigned in 1872, and was succeeded
by Major R. W. Jones, of Petersburg, under whose man
agement, after a struggle for life, it is now marching on,
it is hoped and believed, to an assured and brilliant suc
cess — most of the debt having been liquidated, and its
halls again filling up with youth and beauty.
The establishment of Martha Washington has been the
incentive for starting two other female colleges in Abing
don — one under the patronage of the Presbyterian and the
other under that of the Roman Catholic Church. The
former is called the "Stonewall Jackson Institute," is
most admirably managed under the presidency of Mr. T.
D. Davidson, and deserves a much more liberal patronage
than it is receiving, and the latter, under 'the title of

212 WILBUEN WATEES.
"Academy of Visitation," managed by a Mother Superior
and a corps of accomplished Sisters. These schools are all
well patronized, but not half as liberally as they should
be, situated, as they are, in one of the most healthy and
romantic localities in the South, and in the midst of a
highly moral and refined society

CHAPTER XXXVL

INCIDENTS OF THE WAR.

For the purpose of avoiding monotony as far as possible,
the writer will venture to enlarge the circle in which his
thoughts have been revolving, and give the reader a chapter
of incidents growing out of the late "unpleasantness,"
showing, in some sort, the manner in which our "beloved
brethren" beyond the border waged war upon the South —
a war inaugurated ostensibly for the purpose, as they
termed it, of perpetuating "the best government the world
ever saw," but really for the emancipation of the "man
and brother " — to wrest from the Southern people, at the
point of the bayonet, that which was guaranteed to them
by the compact under which the South became part and
parcel of the Union. But it is not proposed to argue this
question here and now, as it has been settled for " time and
eternity," but to call to mind some of the incidents of the
struggle between might and right — in other words, to give
an incident or two, partially coming under the observation
of the writer, and as related to him by eye-witnesses.
There is not a man in all the country, it may be pre
sumed, who has not heard of John Morgan, the gallant
Kentuckian, who was such a terror to the " Boys in Blue,"
and who thrashed- them out in more than forty battles
with less than half their numbers. Well, to make a long
story short, he had his headquarters at the residence of

214 WILBUEN WATEES.
Judge John A. Campbell in the vicinity of Abingdon for
some time, and the writer was proud to have the pleasure
and honor of his acquaintance. Abingdon being located
immediately upon the great highway from North to South,
as well as from East to West, subjected it not only to the
passing and foraging squadrons of our own army, but to
the more fearful and destructive raids of the enemy. From
the time of General Burnside's entrance into East Ten
nessee, in September, 1863, to the close of the war in
April, 1865, our people had scarcely an hour of quiet, and
were constantly kept, both night and day, in the most un
happy ancj anxious suspense.
All the men of the mountains capable of bearing arms,
as well as many who were incapable, and who had not
fallen upon the bloody fields along the Rappahannock and
Rapidan, were with Lee and Johnston hundreds of miles
away, while their homes and interests, their wives and
little ones, were all at the mercy of our own stragglers and
traitors, and in perpetual dread of the approach of the
lawless and inhuman raiders of Averill, Burbridge, Stone
man and others, whose numbers enabled them to form a
cordon around us as fearful as the folds of an anaconda.
Shortly after Burnside's entrance into and occupation
of Knoxville, one hundred and forty miles west of us,
the gallant General Morgan, with his handful of brave
Kentuckians and Mississippians, fought his way through
interposing legions, and arrived at Abingdon for the pur
pose of recruiting his worn-out men and horses. Knowing
that his mere name had terror enough in it to hold ten
times his number at bay, and finding that the enemy

WILBUEN WATEES. 215
lingered upon his trail, after a few days of rest the bugle
called his men together, and he returned to meet the foe
as he slowly and cautiously .advanced toward the Virginia
line. Arriving at Greensville, Tennessee, midway between
Abingdon and Knoxville, after a fatiguing march of a day
and hight, he bivouacked his little command of five hun
dred men a short distance from the village, and entered
the town with his staff to spend the night under the roof
of a friend — a luxury he but rarely enjoyed.
By some means — and by whom has never been satisfac
torily ascertained — information was communicated to the
enemy sixteen miles off that General Morgan and his staff
were sleeping in the village, while his worn and wearied
men were encamped some half-mile or more away. Not
withstanding scouts were out and the town supposed to be
securely picketed, overwhelming numbers of the enemy,
conducted by treachery, arrived before the dawn and
quietly surrounded the place, thus cutting off the General
and his staff from the little force outside.
Being aroused from his slumbers by the lady of the
house, and informed that the town was swarming with
Blue-coats, and the house surrounded, the General dressed
aud armed himself very calmly and quietly, and said to
the few officers with him : " Gentlemen, they have at last
caught us napping, through the treachery of pretended
friends, but don't surrender, and let us sell our lives as
dearly as possible." They then rushed out in a body and
attempted to cut their way through, but were of course
soon overpowered by numbers. Two of the officers es
caped, four or five were captured, but John Morgan, with

216 WILBURN WATERS.
a revolver in each hand, kept a host of assailants at bay
for some time, and was finally murdered by a mob that
hadn't the courage to take him alive. Thus ended the
brilliant career of John H. Morgan, when as brave a soul
as ever tenanted a human body winged its flight to another
world. As soon as it was known that life was extinct —
and some say before — his body was thrown across the back
of a horse and paraded through the streets amid the jeers
and jibes of a regiment of Michiganders, a score of whom
would not have faced him when alive. His body was
brought to Abingdon, where his wife was then sojourning,
and buried. After a short time it was removed to a vault
in Holywood cemetery, near Richmond, and eventually to
Lexington, Kentucky, where it now reposes with the dust
of kindred who had gone before.
General Basil W. Duke, his brother-in-law, succeeded
Genera] Morgan, who was as popular with the command
as his gallant and lamented predecessor. Not long after,
most of the few scattered troops who had been left here to
guard the railroad were ordered to other points, which,
being known by the enemy in Tennessee, Stoneman and
Burbridge, with a cavalry force of some five thousand,
made their celebrated raid. It was a cold night in Decem
ber, 1864, when the whole fkce of the country was covered
with ice and sleet. It was not positively known that the
enemy was anywhere near, although a continual dread of
their coming pervaded the public mind. They entered the
quiet village stealthily, though they might have done so
boldly, and surrounded nearly every house, before the in
habitants were aware of their presence. In less than an

WILBURN WATERS. 217
hour every store in the place was broken open and ran
sacked, and what the marauders could not carry away they
destroyed. The main body then passed on a mile or two,
where they remained during the night and part of the next
day, leaving a company of about forty men, under the com
mand of a man by the name of Wyatt, to prosecute the
pillage and burn the town. The only persons here being
women and children, with a few old men and boys, this
was no hazardous undertaking.
Wyatt being a native of the place, and having been ar
rested here in the early part of the war under the suspicion
of being a spy, he took peculiar pleasure in wreaking his
vengeance upon those for whom he entertained feelings of
enmity and revenge. After they had gorged their appetites
for plunder, they applied the torch, and in a very short
time a large portion of the town was in flames, and the
women and children frantically rushing from their burn
ing dwellings. All this while Wyatt and his brave and
h-wmane companions were riding exultingly through the
streets, enjoying the alarm and anguish of their helpless
victims. In the midst of their exultation a wild yell was
heard at one end of the street, and in a moment thirteen of
Morgan's men dashed in among the forty mounted Fed-
rals, when the latter, instead of meeting the little handful
of scouts like men, turned and fled, a dozen pursued by
one. In less than ten minutes Wyatt and four of his men,
who had been exhibiting their gallant daring among shriek
ing women and children, bit the dust, twenty were captured
and relieved of their horses, arms and trappings, and the
balance chased right into the ranks of the five thousand

218 WILBURN WATERS.
bivouacked but a couple of miles off. This, although it may
never before have been written, will be recorded in future
history as one of the most gallant feats Of the war.
The raiders then passed on, left some forty or fifty of
their number near the neighboring town of Marion, where
they met with General Duke, with less than a regiment of
followers, went to the Saltworks and made war on the ket
tles, and hurriedly paSsed on through the mountains back
into Tennessee, leaving their line of march strewn with
those for whom our people had to dig holes in the ground,
stopped in their career, some by being frozen to death, and
others by the bullets of the thirteen scouts, who never quit
the trail till the enemy re-entered their own lines.

CHAPTER XXXVn.
THE STREAMS AND SPRINGS OF WASHINGTON COUNTY.
This is a subject which, to the casual reader, may seem
to involve but little of interest, yet the writer must confess
that nothing in this hill country has excited more of his
wonder and admiration than its streams and springs, but
the purpose of the present chapter is to show the magnifi
cent water-power the Lord has given to a people whose
lands are pregnant with minerals and whose mountains are
filled with coal and covered with timber, unexcelled in
quality and variety in any part of the broad Union. In
a preceding chapter a general outline of the streams is
gi'^n, or rather the remarkable fact that the three larger,
which drain the county, all run from east to west, while
all the rest, and they are almost countless, run north and
south, but as no particular description is given of ^hem,
it is proposed to do so now, for the benefit of readers who
may see and appreciate their wonderful advantages. The
three principal streams, as has been before stated, are the
North, Middle and South Forks of Holston, not varying
much in size, each of them, perhaps, averaging one hun
dred yards in width, running ordinarily five miles an hour.
The distance in a straight line of the North 'and South
Forks, from their sources in Wythe county to their con
fluence at Kingsport, in Tennessee, is about eighty miles,
but their windings of course make them many miles longer.

220 WILBURN WATERS.
The Middle Fork is only about half the length of the
others, uniting with the South Fork about six miles south
east of Abingdon. They all head in high table land cross
ing the country north and south connecting two ranges of
mountains with transverse courses, and not more than a
mile from the sources of streams on the opposite side of
the "divide" that run in an exactly opposite direction.
That "divide" is Mount Airy, the highest point crossed
by a railroad in Virginia.
After those streams unite at Kingsport, they still retain
the name of Holston, and form a beautiful river, from
three hundred to four hundred yards wide, clear, rapid,
deep and serpentine. Some twenty-five miles below
Knoxville a comparatively small stream, called "Little
Tennessee," comes into the Holston at right angles, when
the latter loses its name and takes that of the former, and
from this point till it empties into the Ohio it is known
by the name of Tennessee. The three Forks of Holston
are wildly romantic, at one moment dashing madly be
tween beetling precipices, and the next winding gently
through green meadows — again chafing and pelting against
the basis of the mountains, and then dashing away and
hiding themselves among the lesser hills, or smoothly
gliding among tall hemlocks and sugar maples.
Many of the smaller streams, which run at right angles
with and feed the three larger, are remarkable for their
weird beauty and the rapid flow of their waters. As be
fore stated, their name is legion, but the writer must give
a short description of a few of them. Wolf creek, the
eastern prong of which passes through Abingdon, and has

WILBURN WATERS. 221
its source but little over a mile from the village, attains
sufficient size to propel a mill in that short distance, and
although not more than ten miles long, it more than dou
bles its dimensions, and plunges down a rocky declivity
of some one hundred feet in as many yards, into a se
cluded little valley, through which it goes dancing into
the South Fork of Holston. Opposite the source of this,
and not more than three hundred paces from it, but run
ning in exactly the opposite direction, is a stream about
the same size and with the same general features, known
by the name of Tool's creek, only about six miles long,
which reaches the North Fork by a succession of leaps,
having a fall of something like one huridred feet to the
mile its whole length. In this creek, for two miles or
more, hemmed in by precipitous hills, covered with a
splendid growth of timber, there is a succession of beau
tiful cascades, which ^ort and sparkle in the sunlight,
•often embellished with the colors of the prism. Two
miles west of this, having its source in the same range of
hills, is another near the same size and length, which, for
the grandeur of the thing, seems to have united its cas
cades into one; and, to show what a big waterfall may
look like, it leaps more than one hundred feet at two
bounds, and then flows off as modestly as if it had no
sublime attractions.
Two miles further west, heading in the same range,
running in the same direction and about the same dis
tance, is a third, varying but little from the others in size,
^Iso with numerous cascades, and among them one, as if
to outdo its neighbor, makes a single plunge of seventy

222 WILBURN WATERS.
feet. Winding along the margin of the latter, sometimes
on one side and then on the other, is a well graded mud
pike, and each of the others has a tolerable wagon road
from one end to the other. These streams, being fed by
innumerable springs, grow very rapidly in their short
career, furnish sufficient power for any sort or amount of
machinery, and are rarely diminished by drouth.
Still farther west, ten or a dozen miles, heading in the
same range and running in the same direction, is another
stream somewhat larger than the others, called Abram's
creek, which flows its whole length through a wild and rich
but uncultivated country, with a noisy and maddened rush.
On its way to the North Fork it passes through a deep,.
dark and gloomy chasm, bounded by high perpendicular
walls of solid limestone,. and fretting and foaming like an
impatient steed, it pitches over a precipice sixty feet to a
narrow ledge, and thence another plunge of forty feet into
a large round basin worn deep in the solid rock at the
base. This is one of the most magnificent waterfalls in
all this hill country, yet these scenes are so common, and
this one being somewhat out of 'the way, but few of the
citizens of the county have ever visited it. From below
it looks like an unbroken sheet — a perfect bridal veil.
When the stream is at its lowest stage, it falls into the
basin in the form of a heavy mist, and when the sun is in
a certain position the cataract midway is spanned by a
brilliant crescent.
It is a remarkable peculiarity that immediately opposite
the streams above alluded to, as well as many intermediate
ones not named, and having their sources on the opposite

WILBUEN WATEES. 223,
side of the same range of hills, and running in • exactly
the opposite direction, are precisely similar streams, having
the same characteristics. The sources of most of them are
not a stone's throw apart.
It has been stated in this as well as in a preceding chap
ter, that the Holstons run from east to west, the North
Fork sweeping the base of Clinch and the South Fork the
base of Iron mountain. On top of the former rises a
stream called Brumley, which runs due east along its sutri-
mit several miles, and then making a short curve runs
several miles due south to the North Fork. Immedi
ately opposite the source of Brumley, and running about
the same distance in the same direction at the base of Iron
mountain, is a stream called Beaver Dam, which makes
the same sort of a curve nearly opposite the curve in
Brumley, and in about the same distance finds its way
into the South Fork. These streams are almost exactly
alike, their waters never become more than slightly disco
lored, are almost as cold as the springs in the valleys, and
are filled with speckled trout.
It has taken so much space to describe a few of the
streams, there is not room enough left to say much about
the springs. It may be said, however, they are every
where, from the bottoms of the lowest valleys to the sum
mits of the highest mountains. There are a score in this
country that afford sufficient water for light machinery,
and two or three still larger that have mills within fifty
yards of the fountain-heads, and which are never still for
want of water. There are several so deep that no bottom
has ever been found. Among the rest there is one that

224 WILBUEN WATERS.
ebbs and flows at regular intervals. This is a little sin
gular at an elevation of two thousand feet above the level
-of the sea, but those who are familiar with Natural Phi
losophy and understand the principle of a siphon, will not
be at a loss to account for the phenomenon.
Mineral springs are numerous and of all varieties. On
one farm in this county and within a circle of less than a
•quarter of a mile, there are six springs, viz: a chaly
beate, alum, magnesia, sulphur, limestone and freestone.
It is doubtful whether any other part of the continent can
furnish as great a variety in as small an area, and they are
all bold and ever-flowing. They are called Washington
Springs, fifteen miles east of Abingdon, near Glade Spring
depot, and are becoming quite a place of resort for both
invalids and seekers of pleasure. The "Seven Springs,"
noted for Alum Mass, are within three miles of the latter
group. The foregoing should suffice to convince the reader that
Southwestern Virginia is most bountifully supplied with
water — none of your sluggish, lazy streams, but those that
go leaping and romping off, as if in a hurry to mingle
with the Father of Waters, and wake the echos of the
mountains as they tumble and dash along toward their
¦destination.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
STORY OF A HAUNTED BALL ROOM.
This chapter is introduced merely for the purpose of
showing that credulity has not been entirely rooted out
of the world by the march of mind and intellectual cul
ture, and only needs, in the most intelligent communities,
the aid of necromancy to make it develop itself.
A number of years ago — perhaps in the summer of
1840 — the quiet and orderly people of Abingdon and
vicinity were startled and bewildered by strange and
inysterious noises in a large frame building in the centre
of the place, occupied as a grog-shop and for other disrepu
table and obscene purposes. It was a place at which the
most degraded white people of both sexes, negroes and
lewd characters nightly congregated to carry on their Bac-
chanalion revels and other immoral and vicious pastimes.
It was just such a building as ghosts are supposed to love
to inhabit, where the nights are dark and drear, and the
storm-fiends are wandering abroad. It was a very large
one-story structure, built expressly for a ball-room, but at
the time of the occurrences now to be related, the one large
room had a bar partitioned off in one corner, and a small
bed-room in another, and the whole ceiled inside with
plank instead of laths and plaster. There was no access
to the attic or loft save through two stove-pipe holes, and
these were too small for even a child to pass through.
15

226 WILBURN WATERS.
One dark aud stormy night in midsummer, after all
honest people should have retired to rest, the people of the
village were still, and the negroes and their more degraded
white companions were sweltering arid snoring on the floor
of the old ball-room, not only the inmates, but the sleepers
in adjacent tenements were roused from their slumbers by
strange and startling sounds. While from one part of the
large, dark room came deep and suppressed tones of appa
rent agony, from another came the clank of chains, and
from a third such groans as might be uttered by a strang
ling giant — not all at once, but alternating — and to lend
horror to the unearthly intonations, an occasional shriek
floated out on the murky night air. Men in wonder
gathered in groups, each asking the other for an explana
tion, whilst Others, in larger companies, searched the prem
ises inside and out for a solution of the mysterious clamor.
It it said if you touch a tree on which a katydid is sing
ing its nocturnal ditty, its voice will be hushed in an in
stant. So with the invisible occupants of the ball-room.
While search was being made inside, the room was as
silent as a charnel-house, but the moment the searchers
left it, the hideous uproar rolled on.
This didn't last but for a night ,or a week, but for
months, until rumors, many of them of course greatly ex
aggerated, had gone abroad all over the country, and dis
tant journals speculated upon the mysterious manifestations
in the haunted ball-room at Abingdon. Night after night,
not alone, but in company with others, has the writer of
these pageS stood on the outside of the door of that demon-
infested room, and seen strong-nerved men turn pale and
tremble as the infernal racket swept on.

WILBURN WATEES. 227
At length the disturbance became insufferable, and a
¦number of citizens pledged themselves to unravel the
riddle, if within the power of mortal men to do it. But,
as it was pretty well understood that the ghosts (for there
seemed to be legions of them) were not communicative to
multitudes, a number of persons divided off in pairs, and
arranged to try it two at a time, occupying the small bed
room partitioned off in one corner, which was furnished
with a bed, table, chairs, &c., and a big double-barrel shot
gun. Accordingly, the first adventure fell upon two men
with whom all the citizens were acquainted, one of them,
by the way, a brother of the noted Senator Brownlow, and
the other a very sedate but superstitious man, who had
¦long lived in a building in front of the ball-room, to which
the latter formed au L. They repaired to the room soon
after nightfall, each armed with a revolver arid provided
¦with a pack of cards and a bottle of "mountain dew," and
after playing a game or two of poker, imbibing a little of
-the "dew," and whistling jigs to keep their courage up,
they retired to rest, persuading themselves to hope, if not
to believe, that the mysterious visitants would scarcely
•dare to hold their accustomed revel in such a presence.
But they were mistaken. About the "witching hour of
inight" when ghosts most love to wander, and when all
was still save the sighing night-wind as it chanted its
mournful cadences through the open crevices, they were
^startled from their uneasy slumbers by noises to which, as
they described them, bedlam, in its wildest ravings, were'
¦as gentle as the breathings of a lute. Their light was
burning brightly, and as they sprang from the bed, and

228 WILBURN WATERS.,
looking at each other suspiciously for a moment, as if each
supposed the other to be an apparition, standing face to
face, dumfoundered and trembling, while the fearful tumult
rolled on in the outer room, they were soon brought to a
realization of their surroundings. Without exchanging a
word, or attempting to make an investigation of the matter
they were there to- solve, they both seemed to be moved by
the same impulse at the same moment, and went through
a window almost as rapidly as if they had been shot from
a mortar. Next day they had marvelous stories to tell of
the fearful things they had seen and heard, of what they
said to the ghosts and the ghosts said to them, but they
could never after be either coaxed or driven into that part
of town after daylight had disappeared. They have both
long since gone to the land of shadows, and carried with
them to the tomb an implicit belief in the supernatural.
Two others, who claimed to have more nerve and daring
than their predecessors, took their turn the following night,
with about the same result, as far as any satisfactory dis
covery was made. Like the others, they claimed to have
seen and talked with the hobgoblins, and to have driven
them from the building, but two or three gentlemen who
entered the little bed-room early next morning were per
suaded that the driving was the other way, as two pairs of
boots and two hats had been left, which were about the
size of those worn by the men who had scared away the
ghosts. From every indication, another couple had escaped
through the same widow with about the same speed.
The third night— and there is said to be a charm in that
magic number — the adventure was rather more interest-

WILBUEN WATERS. 229
ing than either of the preceding. The two persons now
selected were in middle life, and had long occupied rooms
in the front building, in close proximity to that in which
the ghosts held their nightly carnival. It was believed
they would solve the knotty problem, if it really were not
.supernatural, and within the scope of mortal ken. One
of them was tall and as straight as an Indian, possessed of
more than ordinary intelligence and dignity, supposed to
be a stranger to fear, ridiculed the idea of ghosts and all
sorts of superstition, and scouted the notion of a super
natural agency producing a natural sound, upon philo
sophic grounds. The other was the writer of these pages.
It was a dark, drizzly night, the mercury up toward blood
heat, and the fitful fiow of wind that found ingress through
the broken panes came heated as the breath of a furnace.
We entered at the hour of ten at night — just two hours
before the usual visits of the apparitions, that I, for my
part, was not over-anxious to hear or see, or communicate
with in any manner or form. My companion was armed
with a revolver, a bottle of apple-jack, and a Bible, and I
with a Presbyterian Confession of Faith, a copy of the
National Intelligencer, and two North Carolina tallow
candles — two-thirds cotton and the balance fat.
Neither of us belonged /to a church, but before we got
out of the building, as the sequel will show, we would
have felt more comfortable if we had belonged to all the
denominations and auxiliary societies iu Christendom.
The night being so excessively warm and oppressive, we
divested ourselves of outward adornments to an unmen
tionable extent, and sat down to read and meditate upon

230 WILBURN WATERS.
the looked-for developments of the coming midnight, and
to train our nerves for the tension to which they might be
subjected. I had selected the Confession of Faith and the
National Intelligencer, because I had heard that a coroner's.
jury had once decided that an unknown dead man was.
both a Christian and a gentleman, because the Confession
was found in one of his pockets and the Intelligencer in
the other. The ghosts, therefore, if they were as intelli
gent and moral as ghosts ought to be, might arrive at the
same conclusion as to my character, and deal all the more
gently with me.
My companion, with the view, it may be presumed, of
employing our waiting hours the more profitably, read
aloud from the Word, which he had turned down in dog
ears, and instead of dispelling our gloomy apprehensions
by the soul-stirring Songs of Solomon, or the grander in
spirations of Isaiah or Jeremiah, chose the sombre stories
of the Witch of EndOr and the rattling of the dry bones
in the valley of Jehosaphat — themes, as I thought, in my
then state of mind, not peculiarly appropriate to the place
or the occasion.
After reading all such portions of Scripture as were sur
charged with ghosts, hobgoblins and frightful incantations,
or as many of them as his memory could conveniently call
up, he very reverently closed the volume, and with uplifted
eyes and pious emotion, very much surprised me by saying
"Let us pray!" We knelt down, and solemn as were the
occasion and the circumstances, it certainly would have
been a scene more ludicrous than sacred to a spectator, had
he seen us kneeling amid barrels and bottles of villainous

WILBURN WATEES. 231
whisky, each attired in our nether garments, and nothing
else! I have often since wondered how I refrained from
irreverent merriment in the very presence of the dreaded
demons of the haunted ball-room, as my companion, with
lengthened visage and solemn accents, read the sacred page
and uttered his supplications, with nothing upon him but
his spectacles and but one garment more than Adam wore
when he made that apron of fig leaves. ¦
Our devotions ended, we retired, not to rest, but to
await the coming of the mysterious visitants, who thus far
had proved the "masters of the situation." True to their
habits, as the echo of the last peal of the iron tongue of
time that hung in the Courthouse .steeple floated away on
the midnight air, the invisible intruders announced their
advent by manifestations not less hideous than those which
startled the ear of Tam o'Shanter at " auld Kirk AUoway."
My companion bounded from the bed as if he had been
upon the apex of a volcano, and I felt as if I should have
liked to crawl into an augur-hole and pull it in after me.
He grasped the lighted candle and boldly stepped out into
the large, dark room where the ghostly revel was in full
blast, I gallantly bringing up the rear with feelings about
as pleasant as a malefactor may be supposed to enjoy on
the way from the prison to the scaffold. My companion,
however, marched boldly to the centre of the room, and
holding the candle above his head with one hand, and
lifting the other with his eyes toward the ceiling, exclaimed,
in measured and solemn tones: "In the name of ijfod and
high heaven, icho are you and what do you want?" This
was enough for the ghosts, enough for me, and enough for

232 WILBURN WATERS.
my companion. In an instant the light was extinguished,
and the din that followed was indescribably horrible.
Finding in the darkness that my friend had left me, I
looked towards the window, and the last I saw of him that
night was his ^^a^^ of truce streaming out behind as he
leaped through the window, in which performance I was
not an instant behind him. Next morning the tracks of
four bare feet were found in the mud beneath the window,
and full garments for two bipeds hanging on chairs in the
bed-room. I cannot vouch for my friend's subsequent
adventures, as lie moved away and became high in official
station "away down South in Dixie," but it was my first
and last attempt to hunt up and ventilate an apparition.
Our adventure and failure^ becoming public, no more
"hunting in couples" was done in that direction, and the
ghosts were permitted to revel on in unmolested freedom
till they grew weary of their oqcupation. A few months
after, it leaked out that two or three citizens, for the pur
pose of breaking up the immoral and vicious habits of the
frequenters of the doggery and brothel in the ball-room,
had fixed up contrivances between the weather-boarding
and plank ceiling, which were operated with strings and
wires frobi the garret, and with a "dumb-bell," chains and
a wooden ball at the end of a rope, made the mysterious
noises which were supposed, even by some intelligent
people, to be supernatural. They had sawed out a hole
through the weather-boarding in an upper room of the
front building, then in the occupancy of one of them,
which gave them entrance into the garret over the ball
room, which none suspected, all being satisfied that there

WILBURN WATERS. 233
was no way of getting into that part of the house except
through one of the stope-pipe holes, which, asbefore said,
were too small even to admit a child. The whole thing
was ingeniously arranged and managed, and completely
successful in breaking up the worst den of iniquity that
ever infested the refined and orderly town of Abingdon.

CHAPTER XXXIX.
- MONTICELlO AND ITS SURROUNDINGS.
As but few persons, comparatively, in Southwestern
Virginia have visited Monticello, I may be pardoned for
introducing a short description here,- which may interest a
reader here and there.
On my way to attend the commencement exercises of
Wesleyan Female Institute at Staunton, in June, 1870,
an accident to the train caused a'misconnection at Lynchburg.
I had my choice between waiting for the passenger train
next morning, or taking the freight train just before sun
down and going on to Charlottesville that night. I chose
the latter, and stowing myself away among bales and
boxes and a crowd of sweltering and highly perfumed
"wards of the nation," in the conductor's caboose, I had the
pleasure of jolting into Charlottesville about an hour after
midnight, sought, and after sundry thumps and a volley
of mild imprecations, succeeded in rousing a stupid Sena-
gambian of the male persuasion, who struck a light and
conducted me to a room about as far from the base as the
statue on the monument at Baltimore, where I soon forgot
all my troubles. It seemed to me that I hadn't been
asleep more than an hour when I began to dream of
cyclones and earthquakes, and on being aroused to con
sciousness, discovered that my dreams originated in the
whanging and deafening clangor\of the breakfast gong.

WILBURN WATERS. 235-
which a stumpy negro was banging with as much blood
thirsty earnestness as if he had been "a heathen Chinee"
in the van of a Celestial battle. After bestowing a bless
ing upon him in particular, and the long-tailed barbarians
in general, who invented that noisest and most diabolical of'
all miisica^ instruments, I descended the quarter of a mile of
stairway and was guided to the breakfast room by the
savor of fried ham and eggs, which, in spite of Yankee
innovation, is still, and I hope ever will be, a favorite
morning dish in Virginia. After doing my duty to the
dollar's worth I was expected to get on the outside of, I
sauntered out in search of any stray zephyr that might
find its way into the furnace-like borough from the niegh-
boring hills.
I was sixty-five miles nearer my journey's end than I
would have been at Lynchburg, but could reach it no
sooner than if I had laid over in the latter city, and had
to wait till two P. M. for the, train that was to take me to
Staunton. Casting about for something of interest to-
occupy the tedious hours of that long midsummer day,
with the mercury up to the very top of, the thermometer —
and it would have been higher had the instrument been
longer— ;-a strange gentleman, also on probation, proposed
a walk to Monticello, two or three miles distant. This
exactly suited my notions of economizing time and of
gratifying a mania for ancient relics and memories, and off
we started. All the way along that serpentine and ascend
ing road, my thoughts were busy with the immortal man
who had so often ' walked it in the better days of the
Republic, and not a rock or a tree did we pass that I did

236 WILBURN WATERS.
not imagine that the great statesman and philoso2)her had
sat upon and rested under, and could not resist the incli
nation to take a seat upon every eligible rock, and to rest
a moment under every accessible tree, for the simple reason
that Mr. Jefferson may have done so in his frequent walks
to and from the village.
Everybody knows, or ought to know, t,hat Monticello,
as the first syllable of the name indicates, is a mountain,
and after a weary walk of an hour or more, we arrived in
the gap on the summit where the road crosses, and where
a pure, cold spring leaps from the earth and dashes joy
ously away down the mountain-side. Near the spring
stands an old walnut tree, with a protruding root forming
-a rustic seat, and naturally supposing that Mr. Jefferson
had often sat there, I dropped into it as a matter of course.
As the mansion was still a quarter of a mile or more away,
and upon still higher ground, we remained long enough
to cool off and reflect upon that good providence which
distills so pure and refreshing a beverage exactly where it
is most needed.
' After a rest of some ten or fifteen minutes, we proceeded
upward along the comb of the mountain, and between the
spring and the mansion, in a secluded spot in the forest,
we passed the grave of the great sleeper, inclosed with
high brick walls, and marked by a rough shaft of native
.granite, selected and fashioned by Mr. Jefferson himself,
to perpetuate his name and his deeds to coming genera
tions. Shaking off the sombre thoughts awakened by the
the charnel-house and the garnered harvest of the Great
-Reaper in that silent ' spot,- we hurried on, and were soon

WILBURN WATERS. 237
at the mansion, moss-covered, dilapidated and criminally
neglected. The building is of the French chateau style of
architecture, a mass of angles with a dome on top and
filled with narrow passages, intricate stairways, dark rooms
and quaint niches and closets. The upper rooms, small
and illy ventilated, were originally lighted from the roof,.
but shingles having been substituted for glass, the rooms
are now as dark and gloomy as the cells of a prison. I
was told that the estate originally comprised fourteen
thousand acres, and that the improvements were very near
the centre, and cost, including the grading of the site,,
eighty-five thousand dollars. And just here I will take
occasion to say that while Mr. Jefferson was a great phil
osopher and statesman, and knew all about the construc
tion of laws, constitutions and other fabrics of political
science, he seemed to have had but slight conceptions of
comfort and economy in the construction of a house to
live in. The mansion on Monticello is, iu my opinion, a
monument of bad taste in architecture, as are also the
University at Charlottesville and the Capital at Richmond,.
the plans for which, it is generally understood, were fash
ioned and furnished by him.
Notwithstanding Mr. Jefferson had fourteen thousand
acres upon which to exercise his skill and display his taste
in architecture, he seemed to have a passion for burrowing
in the earth, and as a consequence the summit of Monti
cello is as full of subterranean passages as a mole-infested
potato-patch. But to return to the building. At the cost of a mere
stipend, we were conducted all through the mansion by an

238 WILBURN WATEES.
intelligent and communicative old gentleman, in whom we
realized the personification of the " Wandering Jew," and
were more than compensated for the fatiguing -walk, in the
gratification of seeing the many relics of the great man's
household, to say nothing of the magnificent view of the
surrounding country. Among other things, was the staff
from which the National flag floated on the dome of his
house during the term of his Pre.sidency, and the seat of
the sulky in which he rode to Philadelphia a short time
before he drafted the Declaration of Independence. In
addition to these were a chair or two, mirrors, bedsteads,
&c., all of which have been permitted to remain, and,
simple and common-place as they are, had an absorbing
interesting to me. It may be a weakness, and probably
is, to attach any value to such things; but such is my
nature and I can't change it, and wouldn't if I could.
After exploring the house from cellar to attic, up and
down narrow, dark and winding stairways, together with
the wine-vault and its quaint manchinery for elevating the
bottles to the rooms above, we took a stroll through the
.grounds, from which the most splendid view is to be had.
I lost my bearings, not being able to exactly distinguish the
cardinal points of the compass, but in the direction I took
to be east the bright and beautiful Rivanna dodged in and
out among the hUls, till its rushing waters disappeared in
the distance like a silver ribbon streaming out upon the
wind. And then toward the north, or at least to the left,
lay the town of Charlottesville, nestling almost at the base
of Monticello, with its domes and steeples all glistening
in the rays of the morning sun, and farther on, lifting

WILBUEN WATERS. 239
itself high up among the clouds, lay the long line of the
Blue Ridge, dotted here and there with cultivated fields
and rural homesteads, presenting an appearance not unlike
a bed-quilt of the olden time, with patch-work of varied
shades and hues. And then in the opposite direction,
taking in the counties of Albemarle, Fluvanna and Louisa,
and portions of Buckingham and perhaps Goochland and
Cumberland, the view is grand beyond my weak powers
of description. A mountain in Buckingham, said to be
sixty-five miles distant, is plain to the naked vision, stand
ing out like a solitary watch-tower in all the plain.
I cannot attempt to describe the view, but I loved to
contemplate it, not only on account of its intrinsic beauty
and grandeur, but because Mr. Jefferson admired and
loved to contemplate it, and reared his habitation where
he could live and die amid those gorgeous surroundings.
Charlottesville, with its four hundred students, splendid
adjacent water-power, and rich surrounding country, is a
pleasant, refined and quite a pretty place, but it has not
profited as much as it should have done with its superior
advantages.- A dozen enterprising men with capital could
make a second Lowell of it, but it has been content with
the advantages accruing from the University, and with
the honor of reposing in the shadow of Monticello.

CHAPTER XL.
BARON TEU BEUF, THB FRENCH NOBLEMAN WHO SETTLED IN
RUSSELL COUNTY NEAR THE CLOSE OF THE LAST CENTURY.
A few years ago Mr James Bickley, of Castle's- Woods,
sent to the writer as a relic of the olden time an immensely
large cavalry boot, which had been in his family for more
than half a century. It was made of sole leather, and the
heel fastened on with eight-penny nails. It had evidently
been worn over another boot, and if not bullet-proof, cer
tainly snake-proof. The owner of this boot — Baron Teu
Beuf — was not a pioneer of Castle's Woods, but emigrated
there in 1792 or 1793, a number of years after the last In
dian depredations in that section. Being a prominent man
in his own country, he became involved in the heated po
litical broils of 1792, and had to leave to save his head.
His first destination was London, where he owned pro
perty, which he exchanged with a citizen of that city by
the name of Richard Smith, for a large boundary of land
which the latter owned in what was then Russell, now
Wise county. This boundary comprised 55,000 acres
north of and lying on Clinch and Guerst rivers.
When he came to this country and found his land all
an unbroken and unsettled wilderness, he became dissatis
fied, and resided for about a year at Dickensonville, then the
county seat of Russell. It does not appear -that he in
tended to plant a colony, as has been supposed, as the only
persons accompanying him were his wife, son and two male

WILBURN WATEES. 241
and two female servants, all white. The only property he
brought with him now recollected, consisted of a wood-
saw and two grind-stones. He was evidently in straitened
circumstances, as, at the end of the first year, he removed
to his claim and erected his cabin on a plaice now known
as Sugar Hill, north of Clinch river, in Wise county, the
residence of the late Mr. S. H. Bickley.
The Baron, with the help of his son and servants, soon
made a little clearing about his cabin, and if he had lived
would doubtless have opened out a large and valuable
farm. Having been a nobleman in his own country, and
owning such a large body of land in this, led tq the suppo
sition by some that he possessed a large amount of treasure
in some shape, if not in coin, and this^ supposition proba
bly led to his tragic end. He and his wife were murdered
in their cabin when all the rest of the household were
absent, except one of the men servants, who was drowned
in the river trying to escape. The murderers were never
known, though strong circumstantial evidence implicated
two white men and a negro.
The foregoing is all the history the writer has been able
to obtain of Baron Teu Beuf, who was supposed to have
come to this country for the purpose of establishing a
-colony in due time, but whose aspirations and dreams of
wealth were blasted in a moment, in the prime of his life,
by the hands of assassins and robbers. The writer has
been informed by a gentleman who claims to know some
thing of his history as he heard it through tradition, that
Teu Beuf borrowed £2,000 from the Commonwealth of
Virginia for the purpose of planting a colony, mortgaging
16

242 WILBUEN WATEES.
his estate for the payment, and that his lands were sold
only a few years ago for the payment of the claim, and
are now principally owned by a few gentlemen in Russell.
This may or may not be true, but one thing is certain, and
that is, when a railroad shall have been made through
these lands to Pound Gap, they will be immensely valuEi-
ble. They rest upon a solid foundation of coal, much of
it the best varieties known, and if indications are not
deceptive, oil will be found in any quantity.

CHAPTER XLI.
THE NATURAL BRIDGE OF SCOTT.
Among the many Natural Curiosities in Southwestern
Virginia — a number of which have been briefly sketched
in other chapters of this volume — is the Natural Bridge
of Scott county. It is not so perfect a bridge as that of
Rockbridge county, but much grander in proportions. It
spans a turbulent and rapid little stream bearing the name
of Stock Creek, and, like its counter-part of Rockbridge,
has a public highway passing over it. It is, by actual
measurement, four hundred and twenty, feet high — about
twice as high as the famed Natural Bridge — and the face
of the structure as smooth and perpendicular as if fash
ioned by the skill of a mason. Leading off for several
hundred yards from the lower side of the bridge, the creek
is hemmed in by perpendicular walls of a like height,
some two hundred yards apart, so shutting out the rays of
the sun from the' chasm as to give the rapid stream at the
bottom an awfully grand appearance. About one hundred
feet from the top of one of these walls appears a fissure or
cavern, in- the face of a rock, which, during the war of
1812, was supposed to contain "Peter dirt," the substance
from which saltpetre is made, an article of considerable
traffic among the men of the mountains. But how to get
at it was a question that puzzled the heads of the most
venturesome, fraught, as it was, with such fearful peril.

244 WILBUEN WATEES.
A man in the neighborhood' by the name of Horton
' agreed to be let down by a strong rope, carrying with him
a long pole with a hook; on the end of it, to pull himself
in when opposite the cavity. The top of the wall impend
ing, he would of course swing out some distance from the
face of the rock. When his companions were about ready
to let him down, with a man on the opposite precipice to
direct their movements, they found the rope was not quite
long enough, and having proceeded thus far, they deter
mined not to relinquish the project, and began to devise
ways and means of splicing the rope. It was finally de
cided to skin a pawpaw tree and twist the bark, which is
very strong, and splice the rope'with it. They did this,
secured Horton in the noose, and let him down. Thus
far all worked well, the man was swinging in the right
place, and all he had to do was to draw himself in
with his pole and hook, being some fifteen feet out from
the place he wanted to reach. Accordingly, he fastened
his hook in the fissure and drew himself in, but just as
he was about to grasp the rock with his hand, his hook let
go, and away he went swinging back and forth like a pen
dulum over that fearful chasm, with three hundred feet
below him, and the bottom covered with jagged boulders
and a whirling and dashing mountain torrent. It was a
fearful ride in mid air, but what added horror to the terri
ble situation was, that in its vibrations on the sharp edge
of the rock one of the strands of the bark rope was severed
and began to unwind. Horton himself first discovered
it, and directing the attention of his companions to it,
they rapidly drew him up, and were fortunate enough to
grasp the hemp rope just in time to save the daring adven-

WILBUEN WATEES. 245
turer. Horton, it is said, was about as near dead as alive
when he reached the top, and was no doubt a wiser if not
a better man after that, and never again hunted "Peter
dirt" in that direction.
In standing upon the opposite cliff and looking down
into the deep, dark chasm over which that thoughtless
man had swung like the pendulum of a clock, the writer
experienced a feeling of awe he cannot describe, but which
the reader can readily imagine. The adventure was a
fearful as well as a very silly one, and only shows what
the weakness of humanity will undertake for the sake oi
notoriety or the love of gain.
As said in the beginning of this chapter, this super
structure is not so perfect a bridge as that which adorns
all our geographies, but it is on a much more stupendous
scale. Its imperfections consist in being much wider than
long, and the small proportion of arch to the immense
mass of rock above it. It is really more of a tunnel than a
bridge, although a public road crosses the chasm upon it.-
The tunnel is not straight, but is in the shape of an S, and
from two hundred to three hundred yards iu length. The
track of the Virginia and Kentucky railroad is located
through it, and the arch is far more than sufficient for
the passage of a train. Should that road ever be made —
and no reasonable man can doubt that it will — the Natural
Bridge of Scott county will become a place of public re
sort, more particularly as there are several large caves in
the. immediate vicinity, with a great variety of stalactites
and stalagmites in all stages of formation — some as hard
as the rocks that entomb them, and others as pliant as
putty.

CHAPTER XLII.
BRIEF HISTORY OF RELIGIOUS ORGANIZATIONS IN SOUTHWES
TERN VIRGINIA, AND THE FIRST MINISTERS— MEMOIRS OF
REV. CHARLES CUMMINGS.
The writer is not aware that he could more profitably
or appropriately bring this miscellaneous volume to a close
than by giving a brief account of the original organization
of Churches in Southwestern Virginia, with the names of
the devoted pioneers who planted the banners of the cross
among the mountains.
The Presbyterians were probably the first who wor
shiped in houses erected for the purpose, with regularly
appointed pastors, and the Rev. Charles Cummings is'the
first pastor of whom the writer has any account, but there
was probably at least one other before him, as there were
two houses of worship with their membership of staunch
Scotch-Irish Presbyterians when he came here in 1773.
These were Sinking Spring and Ebbing Spring — the first
on the highest ground near the centre of the old cemetery
at Abingdon, and the other on the site of the present
Glade Spring Church, or somewhere near it. These con
gregations included all the P.resbyterians from Mount Airy
to the Tennessee line, and they were an intelligent and
patriotic people, many of whom fell at the terrible battle
of King's Mountain, some of them became distinguished
men, and a large number of the best and most thrifty of
our present population are their descendants.

WILBURN WATERS. 247
For the following brief memoirs of the Rev. Charles
'Cummings, a number of whose grandchildren still live at
and near Abingdon, the writer is indebted to a little
pamphlet written by a gentleman who had an intimate
personal acquaintance with Mr. Cummings.
Rev. Charles Cummings was an Irishman by birth, and
came to America in early manhood. He was evidently
not without means, as soon after arriving in this country
he entered Carlisle College, Pennsylvania. After receiv
ing a thorough education for the times, he settled in. Lan
caster county, Virginia, where, on the 13th of February,
1766, he married Miss Milly Carter. He was studying
divinity at the time, and was licensed to preach by the
Presbytery of Hanover on the 18th of April, 1767. His
first call was to Noirth Mountain Church in Augusta
county, where he labored five years.
• In 1772, he received a call from the people of Holston,
forming the two congregatiohs above spoken of — Sinking
and Ebbing Springs. This call he immediately accepted;
removed with his family, purchased land in the neighbor
hood of where Abingdon now stands, and settled upon it,
and which is now owned by his grandchildren.
Mr. Cummings was of middle stature, about five feet
ten inches high ; well set and formed, possessing great per
sonal firmness and dignity of character. His voice was
strong, and had great compass ; his articulation slow, clear
and distinct; without apparent effort, he could speak to be
heard by ten thousand people. His mind was good, but
not brilliant. He understood his own system well ; spoke
always with gravity, and required it from all who sat

248 WILBURN WATERS.
under the sound of his voice. He would not tolerate any
movement among the congregation after the services
commenced. He upiformly spoke like one having author
ity, and laid down the law and the Gospel, as he under
stood them, with great distinctness.
At this time the Indians were very troublesome, and
continued to be so for several years ; and generally, during
the summer months, the families, for safety, were obliged
to collect together in forts. The one to which he always
removed his family was Black's Fort, on a knoll on the
southside of Abingdon, between the railroad and Captain
Findlay's mill, and immediately opposite the gate leading
in to the residence of Colonel A. C. Cummings.
In the month of July, 1776, when his family were in
the fort, and he, with a servant and wagon, and three
neighbors, were going to his farm, the party were attacked
by Indians a few hundred yards from the meeting-house,
Henry Creswell, who was driving, was killed at the first
fire of the Indians; and during the skirmish, the two-
other neighbors were wounded. Mr. Cummings and his
servant man Tobe, both of whom were well armed, drove
the Indians from their ambush, and with the aid of some
men from the fort — who hearing their firing came to their
relief — brought in the dead and wounded.
From the year Mr. Cummings commenced preaching-
at Sinking Spring, up to about the year 1776, the men
never went to church without being armed, and taking
their fapiilies with them. On Sabbath morning, during
this period, it was Mr. Cummings' custom — for he was
always a very neat man in his dress — to dress himself.

WILBURN WATERS. 249"
then put on his shot-pouch, shoulder his rifle, mount his
horse, and ride off to church. There he met his gallant
and intelligent congregation, each man with his rifle in
his hand. When seated in the meeting-house, they pre
sented altogether a most solemn and singular spectacle.
Mr. Cummings' uniform habit, before entering the
house, was to take a short walk alone, while the congre
gation were seating themselves ; he woiild then return, at
the door hold a few words of conversation with some one
of the elders of the church ; then walk gravely through
the crowd, mount the steps of the pulpit, deposit his rifle
in a corner near him, lay off his shot-pouch, and com
mence the solemn services of the day. He would preach
two sermons, having a short intermission between them, and
then dismiss the congregation.
The congregation was very large, and preaching was
always well attended. On sacramental occasions, which
were generally about twice a year, the table was spread in
the grove surrounding the church. Here he preached for
many years, and until far advanced in life, to one of the
largest, most respectable and most intelligent congregations
ever assembled in West Virginia. His congregation at
Ebbing Spring \ was equally respectable and intelligent,.
but not so large. What portion of his time he devoted
to this congregation is not known. It included the fami
lies of the Royal Oak (east of where Marion now is) and
for twenty miles in that direction.
He was a zealous Whig, and contributed much to kindle
the patriotic fire which blazed forth so brilliantly among
the people of the Holston in the war of the Revolution^

¦250 WILBURN WATERS.
He was the first named on the list of the Committee of
'Safety for Fincastle county ; and after the formation of
Washington county he was chairman of the Committee of
rSafety for that county, and took an active part in all its
measures. He died in March, 1812, in about the eightieth year of
his age, leaving many and most respectable descendants.
He was a sincere and exemplary Cnristian, and a John
Knox in his energy and zeal in support of his own par
ticular church. He never lost sight of his object, and
always marched directly up to it with a full front. He
performed a great deal of misssonary labor through an ex
tensive district of country beyond his immediate field,
which was of itself large. The fruits of his labors still
remain, and he is no doubt reaping a rich reward for his
zea.\ in the cause of his Master.

CHAPTER XLIII.
THE INTRODUCTION OP METHODISM INTO SOUTHWESTERN VIR
GINIA, WITH THE NAMES OF THB FIRST MINISTERS OF
THAT DENOMINATION.
From the best information the writer can get, the Pres
byterians had regularly organized churches in Holston, as
this part of the State was then called, several years before
the Methodists found their way through the Alleghanies,
as the Rev. Mr. Cummings, as shown in the preceding
chapter, received a call from two regularly organized con
gregations in 1772, whereas the first Methodist, of whom
any reliable account is given, came about the year 1781.
Mr. McFerrin, in his graphic and interesting work on
"Methodism in Tennessee," says: "As early as the year
1785, the first traveling preachers visited the Holston
country. Their names were -Richard Swift and Michael
Gilbert. The country, at this time, was new and thinly
settled. They met with many privations and sufferings,
and made but little progress. The most of the country
through which they traveled was very mountainous and
rough, and the people ignorant and uncultivated, and the
greater part a frontier exposed to Indian depredations.
They were followed by Mark Whitaker and Mark Moore,
who were zealous, plain, old-fashioned Methodist preachers,
and calculated to make an impression. Their labors were
successful, and they were instrumental in raising up many

252 WILBURN WATEES.
societies. Mark Whitaker, in particular, was a .strong
man, and maintained Methodist doctrine in opposition to
Galvanism, which was the prevailing doctrine of that time.
He laid a good foundation for his successors, and was fol
lowed by Jeremiah Matsen and Thomas Ware, and after
them in succession Joseph Doddridge, Jeremiah Able,.
John Tunnell, John Baldwin, Charles Havely, John
McGehee and John West. Under God these men planted
the standard of the cross in the frontier settlements, and
numerous societies were raised up, so that in 1791 the so
cieties numbered upward of one thousand. * * * *
The pioneers of Methodism in that part of Western
Virginia and the Western Territory suffered many pri
vations, and underwent much toil and labor, preaching in
forts and cabins, sleeping on straw, bear and buffalo skins,
living on bear meat, venison and wild turkeys, traveling
over mountains and through solitary valleys, and some
times lying on the cold ground; receiving but scanty sup
port, barely enough to keep soul and body together,, with
coarse, home-made apparel ; but the best of all _was, their
labors were owned and blessed of God, and they were like
a band of brothers, having one purpose and end in view —
the glory of God and the salvation of immortal souls.
When the preachers met from their different and distant
fields of labor, they had a feast 'of love and friendship;
and when they parted, they wept and embraced each other.
Such was the spirit of primitive Methodist preachers.
The first Conference in Southwestern Virginia was held
at Huffaker's, on the 15th of April, 1792. Bishop Asbury
presided. "Huffaker's" ;wa3 on the fine farm now owned

WILBURN WATERS. 253
and occupied by Mr. Benjamin K. Buchanan, some three or
four miles from the Saltworks, and was pronounced "Half-
acre" in the neighborhood at that day. General Russell
and his wife are said to have been converted during the
meeting, and entertained the preachers at their house,
which was at or near the Saltworks.
Barnabas McIIenry was one of the first converts in the
Holston country, and he lived in Rich Valley, not far from
the Saltworks.
As this matter is of interest to the members of the
Methodist Church, many of whom have not and never
may see Dr. McFerrin's entertaining book, the writer will
make one more quotation and dismiss the subject.
"At the Conference held in 1783 (the second ever held),
commencing at Ellis' Preaching-house, in Sussex county,
Virginia, on the 17th of April, and adjourning to Balti
more on the 21st of May, there was a return made of the
Holston Circuit, with sixty members; and with this -year
the statistical history of Methodism in this part of the
country begins. This was only seventeen years after the
commonly received date of the organization of the first
Methodist society in America, and only ten years after the'
first Conference, when the whole number of preachers, as
jireviously stated, was only ten. So it will be seen that
Methodism in the bounds of the Holston Conference dates
back almost as far as in any other portion of the country.
-But to the mind of the writer, with the evidence before
him, there are good reasons to date it back earlier than
this, and date its commencement in 1776. ******
Jf the reader be curious on this subject, and will take the

254 WILBUEN WATEES.
pains to examine, he will find that, after its introduction
to the Holston country, Methodism worked its way north
ward and eastward in Virginia, and also that the Holston
work was connected with that in Carolina immediately
east of the mountains, clearly indicating that from thence
it found its way to this country almost as soon as to any
part of North Carolina.
"At the Conference of 1783, when the Holston Circuit
was formed, there were, in the entire connection in
America, 13,740 members, and eighty-two preachers were
this year stationed. But if the history be commenced in
1776, which the writer believes to be the proper date,.
there were at that time twenty-four preachers and 4,921
members. So the operations of Methodist preachers, in
what is now the bounds of Holston Conference, had an
early, if not a fair start.
"Jeremiah Lambert was the first appointee to the Hol
ston Circuit as such. The war of the Revolution being
about ended, and the tide of emigration setting strongly
in this direction, the number of members in the Church
having increased, as well as the population, and this
country being separated by high mountains from that on
the east, it was deemed best, in laying off the work, to
separate it from that with which it had been connected, and
assign it to one man. Mr. Lambert's circuit embraced all ,
the settlements on the Watauga, Nolichucky and Holston
rivers, including those in what is now Greene, Washington,,
Carter, Johnson, Sullivan and Hawkins counties, Tennessee,
and Washington, Smyth, Russell, and perhaps Lee and
Scott counties, Virginia. This circuit he traveled during

WILBUEN WATERS. 255-
the year, but as the country was very sparsely settled, pro
visions scarce,' and the Indians very troublesome, his hard
ships must have been very great and his sufferings severe —
no accommodations, in the modern acceptation of that
term, for traveling, lodging, study, or anything else —
without pay, without hope of earthly reward, without
earthly friends or protection, and often without food or
shelter — he made his way, as best he could, in the name
and for the sake of Him who had said, 'Lo, I am with
you alway, even to the end of the world,' and at the next
Conference, or in April, 1784, he returned seventy-six
members, or sixteen more than he had received. This.
good man ended his career on earth a few years after this,.
and was taken to his reward on high. He was succeeded
by Henry Willis, and he by Richard Swift and Michael.
Gilbert."

CHAPTER XLIV,
THE FIRST BAPTIST CHURCH IN THE HOLSTON SETTLEMENTS,
AND ITS PIONEER MINISTERS.
The writer is without accurate information as to the
exact time of the organization of the first Baptist society
in the Holston country, but it is known to have existed
•before 1776 — at least cotemporary with, if not anterior to,
the Presbyterian organizations at Sinking and Ebbing
-Springs, which was certainly as early as 1772,
The first Baptist Church, as far as any reliable informa
tion can be had, was at St. Clair's bottom, and as that was
about the first "clearing" in the Holston region — an En
glishman by the name of St. Clair having been found there
in 1764 — it is mor? than probable that it was honored
with the first house of worship. It is of record that the
ministers, as well as members of that church in its early
history, worshiped with their rifies in their hands, and
that they were often harrassed by predatory bands of
Indians. The first Baptist ministers in this part of the State were
Jonathan Mulkey, Andrew Baker, Edward Kelly, Barnet
Reynolds and John Brundridge, and they literally took
their lives in their hands "going about doing good." They
traveled great distances through a comparative wilderness,
facing dangers, seen and unseen, for the purpose of dis-
.pensing the blessings of the' Gospel among the scattered

WILBURN WATERS. 257
¦settlers ; and all this labor, exposure and danger without
the prospect or even hope of earthly reward. They were
mostly unlettered men, but not more so, perhaps, than the
fishermen who werp called from their nets on the sea of
Galilee, and thus laid a foundation for their successors to
build upon, and upon which has been reared a Spiritual
temple of magnificent proportions.
Many of the older citizens of this part of the State re
member some of the immediate successors of the primitive
ministers, among whom were Elders CoUey, Jessee, Seuter
and Edwards, with all of whom the writer had a pleasant
personal acquaintance. They formed the connecting link
between the founders of the church in the wilderness and
the oldest of the Baptist Ministers of the present day.
They were men of exemplary lives, and though rude in
speech preached with great power and effect. They were
all working men, laboring with their hands for the bread
that sustained themselves and families, and dispensing the
bread of life to others without money and without price.
They were all men of sound, practical sense, and of simple,
unadorned, but dignified piety.
Mr. CoUey was somewhat eccentric, but a man of great
earnestness and fidelity. He was a professor, if not a
preacher, at least as early as 1808, as he was called to visit
Mr. William King, the founder of the Saltworks, during
his last illness, who died in October of that year.
Mr. Jessee would have ranked with the ablest divines of
the present day in his familiarity with theology and his
natural elocution. The wfiter was present on one occasion,
17

258 WILBURN WATERS.
many years ago, when Mr. Edwards girded himself with
a towel and washed the disciples' feet.
These were all grand old men, simple in speech as in
garb, and the great Hereafter only can reveal the amount
of good they accomplished in their day.
When there was a division in the church some thirty-odd
years ago on the subject of Foreign Missions, Mr. Jessee
gave the missionary cause his hearty and zealous support,
and Mr. CoUey was equally as earnest in his opposition.
He thought the Church could and .would evangelize the
world, and had no need of auxiliary societies of any sort.
When the matter was discussed at Yellow Spring, where
he had ministered for many years, he stood alone in his
opposition. When a brother arose and said there was some
thing radically wrong in such opposition, Mr. CoUey re
plied "take your seat, my brother, you know nothing about
it. W^e have all heard of Radical* Methodists, but who
ever heard of a radical Baptist?"
^Alluding to the Methodist Protestant Church, by some called
Radical in derision.

CHAPTER XLV.
BRIEF DESCRIPTION OP CANBY VALLEY.
Caney Valley, as it is called by some, and Elk Valley
by others, is so little known, even by a large number of
persons in Washington county, that the writer hopes a brief
description of some of its peculiarities will not be unac
ceptable to many of the readers of this book.
This Valley, if a succession of depressions and elevations
may be so denominated, is a tract of country among the
river hills in Washington county, running east and west,
parallel with Rich and Poor Valleys, and about midway
between them. The hills on each side come down sharply,
and while here and there a comparatively level field may
be found a few hundred yards wide, in much the larger
portion of it the space between the hUls is barely wide
enough for a wagon-road. Its eastern end is at a point
some six or seven miles northeast of Abingdon, and it ex
tends to Livingston's creek, near the line between Wash
ington and Scott counties. A singular peculiarity in it is,
that all along its length — some twenty-five or thirty miles —
and even where the hills are divided by a mere ravine,
the soils on each side are as dis.similar as if they were hun
dreds of miles apart — the southern side being clay and
black loam, exceedingly fertile, adapted to all the grasses,
unaffected by drouth, and producing fine crops iu the dry
est season. The soil has a limestone foundation, of a very

260 WILBURN WATERS.
smooth and fine texture, but almost worthless for purposes
of agriculture or mechanics, neither can it be satisfactorily
dressed with a hammer or converted into lime.
The soil on the north side is almost exclusively composed
of rich red sand, from four to six feet deep, sufficiently
pure and fine to make brick and mortar, resting upon a
dark red or brown granite foundation, which works tole
rably well, but is much harder than limestone. Several
quarries have been opened, from which large numbers of
grind-stones have been taken, of fair quality.
In some portions of the Valley large patches of cane
are still to be seen, seemingly determined to hold its
original right to the soil, regardless of the encroaciiments
of tobacco planters and grazers, as extensive crops of
tobacco are now raised there, and hundreds of cattle grazed.
The timber is not excelled anywhere in the Southwest, par
ticularly walnut and poplar, and there are many magnifi
cent groves of sugar-trees.
Tradition says that salt is one of the resources of the
Valley, which has been found on the land of Rev. Willis
Ingle, dec'd, in a morass which was once famous as a deer
and buffalo lick. This lick is near a patch of cane which,
many years ago, grew as luxuriantly and as thick as a first-
rate field of rye. Old settlers relate that a plain, well-
beaten trace from this lick to the Saltworks of Washington
and Smyth wound along the Valley in the olden time.
On the farm of Mr. Alexander Wood is a red sulphur
spring of fine medicinal properties, and on the eastern end
of the farm of the late Solomon Fleenor is a field of six
or eight acres, where was once an Indian town, many

WILBURN WATERS. 261
evidences of which are still visible, such as darts, stone
hatchets, great quantities of perriwiukle and the , remains
of small shell-fish, although there is no stream larger than
a spring branch near.
This valley, remote and isolated as it is, was settled by
a few persons at an early period of the Holston .settle
ments, as Mr. Solomon Fleenor, who died in 1855, and
was a soldier in the war of 1812, lived nearly all his life
on the farm where he died, and who, in his younger days,
found and preserved many aboriginal relics. He was a
good and useful citizen, possessed a large store of infor
mation, and took great delight in treasuring up the inci
dents of the past.
Thirty years ago there was but one wagon in Caney
Valley, and not a single public road upon which it could
be used. At present, most of farmers have them, with
tolerable roads at intervals to get their products to market.
A vast improvement has been made in population and
enterprise within the last fifteen years, and the farmers sell
as much produce and stock as a like number in any other
part of the country. The fact is Caney' Valley is more
densely populated than any other part of the county of
like area, and produces more and a finer quality of tobacco
than all the balance of the county. Many of the readers
of this chapter will remember Kennady Tate, who lived
in that part of the Valley where the Russell and Abing
don turnpike crosses it, who paid for the large tract of
land upon which he lived and died in Irish potatoes at
twenty-five cents per bushel. The soil on one side is spe
cially adapted to the production of root crops, and the

262 WILBURN WATEES.
other side to tobacco. It is unexcelled for apples and
peaches, which rarely fail.
In one portion of the valley is a cave, from the mouth of
which a constant stream of wind issues, strong enough, even
when not a breath of air is stirring on the outside, to
sway the bushes to and fro. A mile or two off, on the
farm of John M. Hamilton, Esq., is an Indian mound of
considerable dimensions, from which several skeletons have
been exhumed. In some of the brick in Mr. Hamilton's
chimneys, the writer is informed, made at or near this mound,
teeth and parts of human bones have been found.
The foregoing is a very brief description of Caney
Valley, which is almost as much unknown to many of the
citizens of the county as the Valley of the Nile, notwith
standing the fertility of the soil, superior water-power, and
almost unequaled timber.

CHAPTER XLVI.
HISTORY OF THE WEEPING WILLOW.
In one of the early numbers of Scribner's Maigazine, the
writer read a very interesting history of this beautiful tree
{Salix Babylonica), and its introduction on our continent.
The article was written by Benson. F. Lossing, the cele
brated pictorial historian, who says that the willow is a
native of Babylon, and was known in no other part of
the world till hundreds of years after the captive Jews
hung their harps upon it, and refused to sing the songs of
2ion in a strange land.
Mr. Lossing, in tracing its history, says that the first wil
low in England was sent by a gentleman in Egypt to the
great' English poet, Alexander Pope, two hundred years
ago, in this wise: He sent Mr. Pope a box of figs, in
which the latter found a green twig that did not belong to
the fruit, and being fond of exotics, he planted it in a
marshy spot in his garden at Twickenham on the Thames,
and in a few years it became a beautiful and flourishing
tree. In 1776, during the American Revolution, a British
officer, on his departure to the New World, and supposing
the Colonies would soon be conquered and that he would
become possessed of a princely estate belonging to some
wealthy rebel, plucked a twig from Pope's tree, to plant
upon his anticipated estate on this side of the water.

264 , WILBUEN WATEES.
During the war he became acquainted with Mr. John P.,
Custis, the step-son and Aid of General Washington, who
often visited the British headquarters under flag of truce,
and a warm friendship grew up between them. At the
evacuation of Boston, and finding that his dream of acqui
ring an estate by conquest in America had been dissipated,
the officer presented Mr. Custis with the twig carefully
wrapped in a piece of oiled silk. The latter soon after
married, and the account says he planted the twig on his
estate at Abingdon, Virginia. After it grew to some size,.
he gave General Gates two twigs, who planted them on his
estate in New York. Some twenty years after hearing this
remarkable history, says Mr. Lossing, he was at Arlington,
then the residence of Mr. George W. P. Custis, the son
of the gentleman already named, and while conversing
with him upon the subject, the old gentleman pointed to
a magnificent willow in the yard, and remarked "that is
a child of the tree at Abingdon." '
The writer, on seeing this in Scribner's Magazine, and
having no knowledge of any other Abingdon in Virginia
besides our own iu Washington county, and feeling inte
rested in learning something further upon the subject,
entered into a correspondence with Mr. Lossing, in the
course of which that gentleman ascertained that the Abing
don spoken of by Mr. Custis was his father's estate on the
Potomac above Arlington,. This dissipated the fond dream
that our Abingdon had been the favored spot for propaga
ting the first willow upon American soil, but it lead to an
investigation that satisfied him that it was introduced in
what was then called the "Holston settlements" soon after-

WILBUEN WATEES. 265-
the Revolution, as the following facts will attest: The
writer learns from one of the oldest citizens of the county
that two willow trees were growing upon the estate of
General Tate, at the Broad Ford, six miles above the Salt
works, as far back as 1806, one of them quite large. In
1794, the writer has learned from good authority, David
and Michael Shaver each came into possession of a twig —
perhaps from the trees at Broad Ford — and planted them
at their mother's residence, five miles south of Abingdon,
now owned by Mr. David Parks. About the beginning
of the present century. Mi. William King, the original
owner of the Saltworks, who died in 1808, planted a wil
low twig in the back yard of his ' residence at Abingdon,
and which was standing there as late as 1836. So, although
another Abingdon than our own is entitled to the credit of
producing the first Egyptian tree on the American conti
nent, there is very reasonable ground for supposing that
Washington county produced the second.

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