Chapter VI: Prologue (1)

All day long there had been a vague unrest in the old colonial home, all day the leaves had quivered on the banks of the Mataponi River; the waves were restless, the dog in his kennel howled fitfully; the birds and the chickens sought their roosts quiveringly, whimsically, and when night had let her sable curtain down, a lurid glare shot athwart the sky, in a strange curved comet-like shape. It was the Indian summer, October in her glory of golden-rods, sumachs, and the asters in the wood. But, hist! hark! what breaks upon the autumn stillness and the quiet of the colonial household on the Mataponi, -- -- ?

It was the cannon at the siege of Yorktown, forty miles away. The French fleet were making blazing half circles on the sky seen from their fortifications even thus far below.

Through the long night the boom! boom! boom! continued, the simple, loyal folks knowing nothing of the result.

At last, wearied and spent, with a prayer to the All Father to save America, they sought their welcome couches. Among them was Kitty, the idolized daughter of the family.

Soft! step easy! as we push aside the chintz curtains of her four-poster and gaze upon the child, to exclaim: How innocent is youth! Her seventeen years lie upon her pink cheeks, and shimmering curly tresses as lightly as a humming bird in the heart of roses. Her lithesome form makes a deep indenture in the thick featherbed, the gay patchwork quilt half reveals, and half conceals the grace of rounded arm and neck and breast, a sigh escapes her coral lips, one hand is thrust beneath the pillow, she dreams!

On the chair her quilted podusouy and long stays are carelessly thrown. Her Louis Seize slippers with red heels are on the floor, and the old clock on the stair is ticking, ticking, ticking.

Kitty is dreaming. Of what? The greatest moment in our national history. Dream on sweet maid, closer, closer point the hands; it nears three o'clock Oct. 19, 1781. A wild cry, and the whole household is awake.

Swift running to and fro,

Smiles, tears, shouts, "glory," "glory," "God be praised."

Such the sounds that faintly reach the dreaming senses of our Kitty. And then her father with a kiss and hug pulls her out of bed with "Awake lass! awake! awake! Cornwallis has surrendered."

In her night gown from her latticed window Kitty saw the courier galloping through the little hamlet; pausing at her father's gate to give the message of our conquest over the British, and then galloping on towards the North, for he was on the direct route from Yorktown to Philadelphia where Congress was in session.

By the time Kitty had pompadoured her hair, and donned her paviered print gown, all the parish bells were ringing for joy. From Georgia to Maine bells were sounding; peals of liberty and peace filled the air with prayers and praise and service to God took up the glad hour and over and over the refrain was sung "Cornwallis is taken! Cornwallis is taken."

Ah, dear Kitty, and quaint little tableau of the long ago, five generations coming and going, in whose veins beats your loyal blood still listen and tremble and glow with pride at your legend of the siege of Yorktown, and better still, sweetest of all the long agone ancestors more than five nations, indeed every nation honors and makes low obeisance to the stars and the stripes. "Old glory! long may she wave o'er the land of the free and the home of the brave."

CHAPTER FIRST.

"Thinkest thou existence doth depend on time?
It doth; but actions are our epochs."

In 1784 or 85, Mr. Carlton, who had his home on the Mataponi River, moved with his family to Georgia.

After Cornwallis had delivered his sword to Washington, a little group of emigrants might have been seen at Yorktown; among them the families of Edmund Byne and Robert Carlton.

Out in the blue harbour the nifty little brig "Nancy" lay, all sails spread ready to embark to Savannah, Ga.

These two above named gentlemen, took passage with their families, servants and household goods, and they were said to be persons of sincere, and devoted piety, full of hope and courage. They expected to reach Savannah in three days.

However, contrary winds set in, and the brig daring not hug the treacherous coasts of the Carolinas sped far out to sea amid a terrific storm. She drifted for weeks at the mercy of the waves, until the passengers almost despaired of seeing land. If in our prologue, we saw a pretty, and partly imaginary picture of Katherine Carlton, known as Kitty, for she it is now eighteen years of age, we see her again and in true historical facts receive her account of long ago, of the peril. Thus reads her account: "One time it seemed as if the end had come. 'Twas night. The passengers were lying in their berths enduring as well as they could the dangers of the hour, when suddenly the ship careened, seemingly falling on its side. It was then the voice of one of those pious men was heard amidst the howling winds 'Lord help us up,' and straightway the ship was set upright and the danger was passed."

The little party after landing on our beautiful south Georgia coast, sweet with golden jasmines, and long moss on the beautiful braided live oak, proceeded up the country, in true emigrant fashion, in wagons.

Imagination, that merry, fantastic jade, will not let my pen be steady. A thousand pictures obtrude. Kitty, her head so curly, eyes so dark and soft, thrust from out the wagon's canvassed top, or again her snowy fingers playing in the cool waters of a running brook, when the team stops to feed and drink. Then Mr. Carlton, brave, resolute and the camp fire, the smell of broiled bacon, the dog on trail of a rabbit, the straw for seats, and weird firelight, and above all, the eternal stars of heaven.

But we must hasten, though the chronicle, which is reliable, states that it took five weeks to reach their destination in Burke County.

As they approached the Northern border of Wilkes County, the trees grew taller, and the red oak, the white oak, burch, and maple, the crimson honeysuckle, and wild violets and muscadine vines took the place of yellow jasmine, and moss and whispering pines.

It was indeed a forest primeval, a virgin soil, and a new land. So on the last day of their tiresome journey, early one morning, they came to a creek. There was no bridge, and it was plain that the stream had to be forded.

The wagons were moving slowly along. Katherine and her sister walking in front. A discussion arose: "What about the girls? Here! come Kitty!" or "Stop, Kitty! don't take off your slippers; you can't wade." About that time up rode a gallant revolutionary soldier named Captain John Freeman, who boldly said "I'll take Kitty" and in a trice he had the fair young lady behind him on his own horse, and the limpid waters of our clear Georgia stream were laying its flanks as he proceeded across the stream.

CHAPTER SECOND.

"The wagons have all forded the brook as it flows, and then the rear
guard stays--
To pick the purple grapes that are hanging from the boughs."

--_Edward Everett Hale._

While our heroine is riding along in the dewy morn of the day, and at the same time enjoying the beauties of nature and no doubt with her lithe young body leaning against the Captain, causing his heart to beat a double quick, we will go on with our narrative.

Captain John Freeman was a native Georgian, a Revolutionary soldier, he was present at the siege of Charlestown and Savannah, a participant in the battles of Cowpens, King's Mountain and Guilford Court House, at the battle of Kettle Creek, and also at the capture of Augusta in Georgia.

In most of his adventures in the Revolutionary war, Captain Freeman had with him a colored boy named Ambrose, who lived to a very great age and was well known to the younger generation as "Uncle Ambrose." He had his own cabin in Athens, Georgia. Incidents in regard to him were handed by tradition. He had on his left arm the scar of a sabre cut, made by British dragoons when General Tarleton's men were attacking and endeavoring to get away with the American trooper's horses that had been left at the camp, and which it was in part, the duty of the boy Ambrose to keep. The British dragoons had possession of the horses for awhile and Ambrose a prisoner also, but by a rapid retaliation the horses and servants were recovered. Old Ambrose used to tell about having been present at the siege of Savannah, when Count Pulaski, one of the American Generals, was killed. He said that he was back in the edge of the pine, or timber when the American army charged on the British fort and breastworks. He described Pulaski as mounted on a spirited horse, with a great white plume in his hat, and how gallantly he led the Americans in their advance. He saw Pulaski when he fell from the horse, and was present at the point to which he was brought back, mortally wounded.

CHAPTER THIRD.

"Blessed with that charmed certainty to please
How oft her eyes read his;
Her gentle mind, to his thoughts, his wishes, inclined."

ANONYMOUS.

As might be guessed, in a few short months after crossing the creek together on horse-back, Captain John Freeman led Kathrine Carlton to the altar.

In regard to her after-life, she was a wonder for those times, a great reader and a fine housekeeper, a fine raconteur; yet with all, the soul of hospitality. She had a healthy, strong mind; was imperious in her bearing, a devoted member of the church, a power in her family, and section.

Captain Freeman was a wealthy man, and took her at times in a carriage to the Mountains of North Carolina on a pleasure trip.

She bore him one child, Rebecca, of a temperamental nature, and of deep piety like her mother. This child was the author of many lovely poems.

Captain Freeman did not live to be very old. After his death Mrs. Freeman met losses which she bravely bore, Rebecca married Shaler Hillyer and from this union sprang all the Georgia Hillyers. And to this day "Grandma Freeman" is almost a sainted word in the family, so strong was her character and so deep her love for others. She lived to be eighty-nine years old. In her bedroom was an old time tall clock that Captain Freeman had brought over from England when he brought his blue china dishes. As she drew her last breath, a beloved niece looked at the clock but it had stopped. That clock is still owned by one of her descendants, and it is not a legend but a fact, that when anything important happens, in the family, if it is running, it stops, if it is not running, it strikes.

But to return to the Bynes: to show that we are journeying on to meet those who are journeying on to meet us.

Mr. Bynes' daughter Annie, she who came in the brig "Nancy" with Mr. Carlton, married a Mr. Harris, their daughter married Mr. Hansell, and his granddaughter, the beautiful golden haired Leila, a noted belle and beauty, of Atlanta, Georgia, married a Mr. Llewelynn P. Hillyer, of Macon, Georgia, the great grandson of Kitty Carlton.

If the writer may be pardoned for saying so, she is the granddaughter of Junius Hillyer, the grandson of Kitty Carlton; and she also pleads guilty to the soft impeachment of having married Hamilton Harris, a relative of the Byne family, too.

Two shall be born the whole wide apart and time and tide will finally bring them together. Affinity, congeniality, fate! What?

Hurrah for the brave little sailing vessel, the nifty, white winged brig, "The Nancy."

BATTLE OF KETTLE CREEK.

No battle of Revolutionary times was more instrumental in making the surrender of Cornwallis, at Yorktown, possible than was the battle of Kettle Creek. As it was at that period of the war the only American victory in the far South, and though it seemed unimportant, it was a prominent factor in holding the militia together and stimulating, them to fight to ultimate victory.

After the battle of Monmouth, the largest engagement in the North closed, the scene drifted to the South. Georgia was practically subdued by the British in January, 1779. General Provost, commanding the British in South Carolina, and Commodore Parker and Lieut. Campbell, on the sea, had captured Savannah and being so encouraged, made plans to aid the Tories in crushing all patriots who dared to resist.

On February 14th, 1779, at War Hill, Wilkes County, Georgia, the battle of Kettle Creek was fought. Between four hundred and five hundred Americans were in this engagement under Col. Pickens, against seven hundred men under Col. Boyd, a British officer, who was secretly employed by the British to organize a band of Tories in South Carolina and who was on his way to join the British Army and had planned to take Augusta on his route.

Col. Boyd was mortally wounded in this battle. As soon as Col. Pickens heard of it he immediately visited his opponent and offered him any assistance within his power. The dying man left with him keepsakes and letters which were promptly delivered to his wife after his death.

In Vol. II, Wm. Bacon Stevens' History of Georgia, New York, 1847, Bishop Stevens gives the following account of this battle:

"The enemy having effected a passage into Georgia, Pickens and
Dooly, now joined by Col. Clarke, resolved to follow; and they
accordingly crossed the Savannah on February 12, 1779, and camped
the following night within four miles of the enemy. Forming the
line of march in the order of battle, the Americans now prepared
once more, at a great disadvantage of numbers, to contest with the
Tories for the supremacy of upper Georgia. Much depended on this
battle. If Boyd should be successful in driving back the Americans
under such men as Pickens and Dooly and Clarke, he might rest
assured that no further molestation, at least for a very long time,
would follow, and all would yield to the British power, while on
the other hand should the Americans be successful, it would not
only crush the Tory power, already so galling to the people, but
protect them from further insult, and give a stimulus to American
courage, which a long series of disasters made essential. It was a
moment big with the fate of upper Georgia.

"Boyd, with a carelesness evincing great lack of military skill and
prudence, had halted on the morning of the 14th of February, 1779,
at a farm house near Kettle Creek, in Wilkes County, having no
suspicion of the near approach of the Americans, and his army was
dispersed in various directions, some killing and gathering stock,
others engaged in cooking and in different operations. Having
reconnoitered the enemy's position, the Americans, under Pickens,
advanced in three divisions; the right under Col. Dooly, the left
under Col. Clarke and the center led by the Commander himself, with
orders not to fire a gun until within at least thirty paces. As
the center, led by Pickens, marched to the attack, Boyd met them
at the head of a select party, his line being protected by a fence
filled with fallen timber, which gave him a great advantage over
the troops in front. Observing this half formed abatis, Pickens
filed off to a rising ground on his right, and thence gaining the
flank of Boyd rushed upon him with great bravery, the enemy fleeing
when they saw their leader shot down before them. He was sustained
in this charge by Dooly and Clarke, and the enemy after fighting
with great bravery, retired across the creek, but were rallied by
Major Spurgen on a hill beyond, where the battle was again renewed
with fierceness. But Col. Clarke, with about fifty Georgians,
having discovered a path leading to a ford, pushed through it,
though in doing so he encountered a severe fire and had his horse
shot down under him, and by a circuitous route rose upon the hill
in the rear of Spurgen, opening a deadly fire. The enemy hemmed in
on both sides, fled, and were hotly pursued by the victors, until
the conquest was complete. For an hour and a half, under great
disadvantage and against a force almost double, had the Americans
maintained the now unequal contest, and though once or twice it
seemed as if they must give way, especially when the Tories had
gained the hill and were reinforced under Spurgen; yet the masterly
stroke of Clarke, with his few brave Georgians, turned the scale,
and victory, bloody indeed, but complete, was ours."

THE DARING EXPLOIT OF GRACE AND RACHAEL MARTIN.

At the beginning of the War of the American Revolution, Abram and Elizabeth Martin were living in Ninety Six District, now Edgefield County, South Carolina, with their nine children. Seven of their eight sons were old enough to enter the army, and were noted for their gallantry and patriotic zeal. The wives of the two eldest sons, Grace Waring and Rachael Clay, during the absence of their husbands, remained with their mother-in-law.

One evening the news reached them that a courier bearing important despatches was to pass that night along the road guarded by two British officers. Grace and Rachael determined to waylay the party and obtain possession of the papers. Disguised in their husbands' clothes, and well provided with arms, they hid in the bushes at a point on the road where the escort must pass. Darkness favored their plans and when the courier and his guards approached they were completely taken by surprise by the suddenness of the attack. They had no choice but to surrender. The young women took their papers, released the soldiers on parole, and hastened home to send the important documents to General Greene by a trusty messenger.

The paroled officers returned by the road they had come and stopping at the home of the Martins, asked accommodations for the night. The hostess asked the reason for their prompt return. They replied by showing their paroles, and saying they had been taken prisoners by two Rebel lads. The ladies rallied them on their lack of courage and asked if they were unarmed. They said they were armed but were suddenly taken off their guard.

They went on their way the next morning without a suspicion that they owed their capture to the women whose hospitality they had claimed.--_Grace L. Martin, Piedmont Continental Chapter, D. A. R._

A REVOLUTIONARY PUZZLE.

These old rhymes were written in the early part of the Revolutionary War--about 1776. If read as written they are a tribute to the king and his army, but if read downward on either side of the comma, they indicate an unmistakable spirit of rebellion to both king and parliament. The author is unknown:

Hark, hark, the trumpet sounds, the din of war's alarms
O'er seas and solid grounds, doth call us all to arms
Who for King George doth stand, their honors shall soon shine
Their ruin is at hand, who with the congress join.
The acts of parliament, in them I might delight,
I hate their cursed intent, who for the congress fight
The Tories of the day, they are my daily toast,
They soon will sneak away, who independence boast,
Who nonresistant hold, they have my hand and heart
May they for slaves be sold, who act the Whiggish part,
On Mansfield, North and Bute, may daily blessings pour,
Confusion and dispute, on congress evermore;
To North and British Lord, may honors still be done,
I wish to block and cord, to General Washington.

SOUTH CAROLINA IN THE REVOLUTION.

(Prize essay written by Miss Leota George of Sandy Springs in competition for the medal offered by Cateechee Chapter, D. A. R., to English class in Anderson College, S. C.)

South Carolina had a large share in winning American independence. Several decisive battles were fought on her soil. For the struggle she furnished far-sighted statesmen, brilliant leaders for the battlefield, and troops of patriotic, devoted men. Her daughters brought to the conflict immeasurable aid, comfort and influence. The men of South Carolina saved their own state and were able to give invaluable aid to their countrymen in other sections.

South Carolina had been settled by the Huguenots, English, Scotch-Irish, Welsh and Germans--people from the sturdiest and most progressive countries of the world. Their experiences in their new environment tended to make them independent and self-reliant. Their years of hardships and strifes only served to make them more vigorous. They increased rapidly in population and built up an active trade. South Carolina became one of the most prosperous of the colonies. The colonists of the lower country were people of learning and culture. The settlers of the middle and upper country were energetic, patriotic, and noble. There was no aristocracy. There were quite a number of able clergymen, skilled physicians, and well trained lawyers among the South Carolinians. They had wealth without luxury. They suffered no religious restraint. Every circumstance helped to develop them into a distinctive, independent people.

The injustice and selfishness of British authority at once aroused the anger of these spirited settlers. The Stamp Act met with general opposition. South Carolina at once protested against this unjust law and would not allow the stamps to be sold. After the repeal of the Stamp Act Great Britain made a second attempt to obtain money from the colonists by placing a tax upon glass, wine, oil, paper, painter's colors and tea. The vigorous objections of the colonists caused her to withdraw the tax from everything except tea. But the colonists were unwilling to accept anything but full justice from the hands of Great Britain.

The South Carolinians had many determined and active leaders in their opposition to British tyranny and in the avowal of their rights to govern themselves. Christopher Gadsen, William Henry Drayton, Arthur Middleton and David Ramsay impressed upon the people the necessity of fighting for their liberty and urged them to prepare for a war with England. Christopher Gadsen, Thomas Lynch, John Rutledge, Arthur Middleton and Edward Rutledge were chosen by the South Carolinians to represent them at the first continental congress at Philadelphia in 1774. These men had had a prominent part in that meeting. The broad-minded, far-sighted Christopher Gadsen was the first man to see that independence must eventually come. At this meeting he was the first to suggest absolute independence. William Henry Drayton concluded one of his speeches in South Carolina with this excellent advice: "Let us offer ourselves to be used as instruments of God in this work in order that South Carolina may become a great, a free, a pious and a happy people."

On March 26, 1776, the provincial congress adopted a new Constitution and South Carolina became a free and independent state. She was the first of the thirteen colonies to set up a government of her own. John Rutledge was made president and Henry vice-president.

The first battle of the Revolution was fought November 12, 1775, when two British war vessels made an unsuccessful attack on a South Carolina vessel. The British suffered their first complete defeat in America at Charles Town, June 28, 1776. Under Sir Peter Parker the enemy attacked Ft. Moultrie. Under the blue Carolina flag with its crescent and the word "Liberty," upon it, the patriots, with Col. Moultrie as leader, courageously resisted the attack. In this battle the immortal Jasper braved the enemy's fire in rescuing the fallen flag and replacing it upon the fort. The splendid victory at Ft. Moultrie gave more confidence to the colonists and inspired them with new zeal. The colonists under William Thompson defeated the British in a second attempt to take Charles Town in June, 1776.

For about two years following this battle the British army abandoned their attempt to conquer South Carolina. However, she was far from being peaceful during this period. Her settlers were not a homogeneous people. No bond of sympathy united them in fighting for a common cause. Bands of Tories had formed in the interior and were as difficult to overcome as the British themselves. Under Fletchall and Cunningham they committed many bloody outrages and did an incalculable amount of harm. They stirred up strife among the Indians and acquired their aid in fighting the patriots. Some of the severest struggles of the Revolution took place between the opposing factions in South Carolina. Andrew Williamson, James Williams and Andrew Pickens were active in defending the upland country against the Tories and Indians.

In April and May of 1780 the British under Gen. Clinton again attacked Charles Town. For three months four thousand ill-fed, ill-clad, and undisciplined patriots withstood the attacks of twelve thousand of the best of the British troops. Finally, the South Carolinians were forced to surrender. Fast following this defeat came pillage, devastations and repeated disasters. In the upper country the British under cruel Tarleton followed up their victories with bloody outrages. Clinton left Cornwallis in command of the British forces in the south. The cruelties of this officer greatly aroused the anger of the Carolinians. Sumter, Marion and Pickens suddenly appeared upon the scene of battle. They rallied the scattered forces and began their peculiar mode of warfare. By means of the ingenuity and indomitable courage of Sumter, the spirited "Game Cock," the enemy was harassed and numerous little victories were won from them. These successes were a great encouragement to the Carolinians. Sumter, aided by patriot bands under John Thomas, Thomas Brandon and Edward Hampton, succeeded in driving the British out of northern Carolina.

About this time, Gates and DeKalb were sent to the relief of the South. On account of the poor generalship of Gates the Americans were defeated at Camden, August 16, 1780, by the enemy under the command of Cornwallis. Francis Marion, the elusive "Swamp Fox," made repeated attacks upon the British forces and with the help of Sumter, Harden and McDonald, again gained control of the upper country. On October 7, 1780, Sumter's men led by Lacey, Williams, and Hill helped to win a battle from the enemy under Ferguson at Kings Mountain.

In January, 1781, Gen. Daniel Morgan of Virginia, aided by Andrew Pickens with his body of riflemen, won a complete victory over the British at Cowpens. Gen. Greene had brought some troops into South Carolina. The combined forces of Sumter, Pickens, Marion, Lee and Greene gradually drove the British into Charles Town. Charles Town was evacuated December 14, 1782.

South Carolina's activities were not confined to her own borders. On several occasions she had sent troops to Georgia to help defend this feeble colony. The South Carolinians had captured a supply of powder in the early part of the war and sent it north to Washington at the critical point where his supply had given out. It was a South Carolinian who had secured aid from France for the patriots. This was exceedingly important since the French army and fleet played an important part in the capture of Cornwallis at Yorktown.

In the great fight for independence South Carolina did her share of the fighting and more than this. Besides furnishing brilliant leaders and brave soldiers for the battlefield, she produced eloquent orators and wise statesmen to help manage the affairs of the colonists during this trying period. Among the foremost of her statesmen was Henry Laurens. In 1777 he succeeded John Hancock as president of the continental congress. He proved himself an efficient and wise officer. On his way to seek aid from the Dutch he was captured by the British and imprisoned in the Tower of London. At the close of the war he was exchanged for Cornwallis. He then went to Paris, where he was one of the commissioners who signed the treaty of peace between Great Britain and the United States.

John Laurens, a son of Henry Laurens, was also prominent in the management of the civil affairs of the colonists. It was he who secured aid from France. Never has anyone been sent from America to Europe on so important mission. By his tact and unusual abilities he succeeded in the task in which Franklin had failed.

Christopher Gadsen, Arthur Middleton, William Henry Drayton, and David Ramsey were the great orators of South Carolina during the Revolution period. At the beginning of the war they accomplished much by inspiring their fellow-countrymen with patriotism and courage.

John Rutledge, Charles Cotesworth Pinckney and Thomas Pinckney had much to do with managing the affairs of the province during the war. The distinguished generals, Sumter, Pickens, Marion and Hampton rendered valuable service as statesmen--services which are apt to be overlooked on account of these men being such efficient partisan officers. The men who signed the Declaration of Independence for South Carolina were Thomas Heyward, Thomas Lynch, Arthur Middleton and Edward Rutledge.

South Carolina's women were as loyal, devoted, and heroic as her men. They supplied the soldiers with many comforts by knitting and weaving garments for them. In some instances they took an active part in the struggle. Mrs. Thomas and Mrs. Dillard made perilous rides to warn the patriots of impending attacks of the enemy. We will long remember the patriotic spirit and self-sacrifice exhibited by Mrs. Motte when she showed the Americans how to set fire to her own house in which the British were fortified. Mrs. Bratton nursed some wounded British soldiers who had threatened to kill her the day before. Our state has sufficient cause to be proud of her noble women of the Revolution.

The difficulties under which South Carolina labored throughout the long struggle only add to her glory and honor. Next to Georgia she was the feeblest of the colonies. At the beginning of the war she had only ten thousand available men. There were heavy drains upon her limited resources. Much of the ammunition used during the war was captured from the British. Reaping hooks and mowing scythes were used for weapons when the supply of guns was inadequate. Saws were taken from sawmills to be made into swords. Lead was removed from the housetops and churches to be run into bullets. The soldiers had not half enough tents, camp kettles, and canteens. Clothes, food and medicines were often lacking. Added to all this were the strifes created by the insurgent Royalists and Indians. When we view the remarkable successes of the South Carolinians in the light of all these conditions, we can but agree with the great historian Bancroft in his opinion that "the sons of South Carolina suffered more, dared more and achieved more than the men of any other state."

LYMAN HALL.

Lyman Hall, one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence, was born in Wallingford, Conn., April 12, 1724. He was the son of Hon. John Hall and Mary Street. In 1747 Lyman Hall was graduated from Yale College in a class of twenty-eight members. He then studied Theology.

In the twenty-eighth year of his age he moved to Dorchester, S. C., and for many years ministered to the needs of those sturdy people.

Many of these settlers removed to Liberty County, Georgia. Along with the second stream of immigration came Lyman Hall.

When the storm of the Revolution began to lower, Dr. Hall promptly took sides with the patriots and to them he was a tower of strength. Dr. Hall was chairman of the meeting at Midway, February 9th, 1775, which sent delegates to the meeting at Charleston. He was elected to represent the people of St. John's Parish in the Continental Congress, March 21, 1775.

When the Declaration of Independence was signed, Lyman Hall, Button Gwinnett and George Walton, in behalf of the inhabitants of Georgia, affixed their names to the famous document.

When the British troops overran Georgia, the property of those who had espoused the patriot cause was confiscated and destroyed, and Dr. Hall's residence at Sunbury and his plantation near Midway were despoiled. With his family he removed to the North where he resided till 1782, when he returned to Georgia and settled in Savannah.

In 1783 Dr. Hall was elected Governor of Georgia and his administration was one of the most important in the history of the State. After the expiration of his term of office as Governor, he returned to Savannah and again took up the practice of medicine. He removed to Burke County in 1790 and settled upon a fine plantation near Shell Bluff. Here he died, October 19, 1790, at the age of sixty-seven, and was buried in a brick vault on a bold bluff overlooking the river.

In 1848 his remains were removed to Augusta and placed with those of George Walton beneath the monument erected by patriotic citizens in front of the Court House.

In person, Dr. Hall was six feet tall and finely proportioned. He was a man of great courage and discretion, and withal gentle and easy in manner.

He was fitted to guide the ship of State in the storm of the Revolution, and though he never bore arms, or won distinction as an orator, the people felt safe with his hand at the helm. The State of Georgia has fittingly perpetuated his memory by naming one of its counties for him, and, so long as liberty and patriotism shall live, so long shall the name of Lyman Hall be remembered.--_Compiled from "Men of Mark of Georgia."_

A ROMANCE OF REVOLUTIONARY TIMES.

About 1768, the only son of Sir John Stirling, of Scotland, was sent to one of the West India Islands to look after some property. If he needed money he was to write home for it, putting a private mark on his letters. A serious illness caused him to forget the private mark, so no attention was paid to his letters with request for money. So he found himself stranded among strangers without money and without health.

A kindly sea captain, whom he met, offered to take him in his vessel to Connecticut without money. He gladly accepted the offer and sailed for a more healthful climate. Shortly after he left the West Indies, letters were received there from his father inquiring for him. The answer was sent to the father that his son had been very ill, and as he had disappeared they supposed he was dead. In the meantime young Stirling had gone to Stratford, Connecticut, where he taught school as a means of support. He soon fell in love with one of his pupils, pretty Glorianna Folsom, the beauty and belle of the village. Her father was a prosperous farmer. They were married in 1772. After the birth of their first child, a young minister, who was going to Scotland to be ordained, offered to hunt up his family if he would give him the necessary proofs of his identity. He did so, though reluctantly and hopelessly. The minister sailed for Scotland and soon found the family who were in deep mourning for the son they had supposed dead. They were overjoyed to hear he was alive, and at once wrote him to come home by the first vessel, not waiting for his wife and child to get ready; that they would send for them later. He did so, and his sudden departure caused the gossips to decide that Glorianna and her little daughters (for the second one was born after he left) had been deserted. It may have seemed a long period, but after he had had time to prepare a home for her and a quantity of beautiful clothing, he sent a ship to New York for her and she was requested to embark immediately. She found everything provided for her comfort and convenience and a servant to wait on her. They lived near Stirling Castle and afterwards in Edinborough and young Stirling succeeded to the honors and estates of the Baronet in due time.

Glorianna was a woman of remarkable character as well as beauty, and was the mother of eighteen children.--_Grace Martin, Piedmont Continental Chapter, D. A. R._

"FT. MOTTE."

"As unto the bow the cord is,
So unto the man is woman,
Tho' she bends him she obeys him,
Tho' she draws him, yet she follows,
Useless each without the other."

We have in our county of Orangeburg an historic spot which rightly in name is a monument to the self-sacrifice and heroism of Mrs. Rebecca Motte, the wife of Col. Isaac Motte.

This family had moved from Charleston to St. Matthew's Parish and owned a beautiful plantation home on the Congaree river, about where the present town of Fort Motte stands.

As Nathaniel Greene, aided by the partisan leaders, drove the British from post to post back into Charleston, the British fortified Motte's, the chief part of the post being Mrs. Rebecca Motte's home. The family had been driven out by the British and were living in the neighborhood.

Lee's and Marion's men built a mound of earth, which is still to be seen, from which the riflemen could command the inside of the fort, but the house protected the enemy still. It was found necessary to burn it.

They informed Mrs. Motte that they would probably have to burn her home, which stood in the center of the fort; she begged them that they would not consider her house of any consequence in the general cause and with great patriotism and firmness presented them with a bow and quiver of arrows and showing them how to set fire to the house, requested that they should burn it quickly.

By this means the Whigs threw fire on the roof, compelling the garrison commanded by Lieutenant McPherson to surrender or be roasted. Mrs. Motte was extremely rejoiced when she saw the garrison surrender.

Lee's and Marion's men extinguished the flames and the house was afterwards rebuilt.

Some authorities say that the bow and arrows were a present sent Mrs. Motte from India, others that they were borrowed of a negro boy. However this may be the mound of earth is all that is now visible as a reminder of Mrs. Motte's sacrifice.

The place where the house stood is at present a cotton field and owned by Mrs. A. T. Darby.

Time, the eradicator, will eventually wipe out the mound and all that will commemorate this brave deed will be the name, "Fort Motte," on the written page.--MRS. BESSIE GOGGANS OWEN, Vice-Regent Moultrie Chapter, _in American Monthly_.

PETER STROZIER.

About the year 1748, Peter Strozier, the hero of our story, was born in Germany. We know nothing of his childhood or early life, but in manhood we know him as our worthy ancestor and find him bravely fighting for American independence. He was married to Margaret Dozier in his native land and he, with four brothers, came to America about the time of the out-break of the Revolutionary War and settled in Virginia.

To the call of the country that he had come to share its reverses as well as its prosperity, and in the spirit of liberty he was ready to draw the sword when the iron heel of oppression was set upon its cherished rights.

During the seven years of faithful service he gave to his country, his wife and five children were left alone in a country home, where their lives were in constant danger. But God, in His all wise providence had sent into their home an orphan boy who was left to care, as best he could, for the family. This orphan boy, whose name was Captain Paddy Carr, was reared by our worthy ancestor, and during his life his gratitude never waned for his benefactor and benefactress. In the meantime Captain Carr moved the family to Georgia but found the condition of affairs even worse than in Virginia. The Tories at this time held full sway in Georgia and in no other state were they so wicked and cruel. The people were divided into two parties, the Tories and the Patriots. The Tories were those who took the oath of allegience to the King, and those who refused to take the oath and would rather suffer and fight for American Independence, were called Patriots. So the Tories and Patriots hated each other with a bitter hatred. While these Patriots, brave and liberty loving men, were fighting for their independence, the Tories were left unmolested in their homes. The Patriots were forced to leave their property and helpless families to the mercy of the British and Tories. The Tories were far worse than the British. They formed themselves into companies, roving over the country, committing all kinds of outrages; robbing and burning houses, throwing old grayheaded fathers and grandfathers into prison and driving helpless wives and children from their homes, showing mercy to no one who favored the American cause.

One venerable great grandmother, Margaret Strozier, fell a victim to a band of these Tories, who robbed and burned her home and drove her away. She walked with five children to South Carolina. When the young Patriot, Captain Carr, heard of the robbery and burning, his fiery blood boiled in his veins and he swore vengeance on all Tories. Henceforth he lost no opportunity to avenge the wrong done to the woman who was the only mother God had given him, and to children who were his only brothers and sisters. Tradition tells us that at the point of his own gun, he captured at one time five Tories and held them until his Company came up, and to them he showed no mercy.

Having gone through the Revolutionary War, which closed in 1782, Peter Strozier, with his family, settled in Wilkes County, Georgia. Tradition also tells us that he was a man of noble traits, with great force and dignity of character. His last days were passed under a silver-lined cloud, and in the old county of Wilkes he lies buried today. After his death, his wife, Margaret Dozier Strozier, who had shared with him the sufferings and hardships of the cruel war, moved to Meriwether County, Georgia, with her son Reuben Strozier, and she lies buried in the old family graveyard about four miles west of Greenville, Georgia, near the old Strozier homestead.

We can say by tradition, from generation to generation, that there sleep today no truer, no purer, no nobler ones than Peter and Margaret Strozier. How we love and cherish the memory of our fore-fathers! So will generations, after generations, and may we never tire in our efforts to preserve the records of the lives and struggles of those who fought and bled and died for our freedom.--NANNIE STROZIER THRASH.

INDEPENDENCE DAY.

Oh, happy Independence Day,
We love thy honored name,
Dear happy Independence Day
Is with us once again.

Over a hundred years ago,
This day first won its fame,
And tho' the long years come and go,
'Tis remembered just the same.

We are a band of people true,
We love our native home,
Its environments, its skies of blue,
From it we'll never roam.

Let us forget the soldiers never,
Who battle to be free,
Who fought King George's army,
From far across the sea.

They left their dear beloved home
To chase the cruel foe,
O'er deserted battle fields to roam
Midst suffering, pain and woe.

Those soldiers now are sleeping
To chase the cruel foe,
O'er deserted battle fields to roam
Midst suffering pain and woe.

Those soldiers now are sleeping
On plain, and hill, and shore,
Their titles we are keeping,
But they'll be here no more.

When wars wild note was sounded
When the cry for freedom came,
England's hosts had landed
To win her glorious fame.

Alas, the British finally knew
They could no longer stay,
They left our brave and daring few
And quickly sailed away.

Alas, those dreadful days are gone,
No one remains to tell,
Of struggles made, and burdens bore,
For the land we love so well.

We love the mother country yet,
Her name we still adore,
Her kindness we can ne'r forget,
But we'll be bound no more.

Oh, happy Independence Day
How dear to us the name!
Oh, happy Independence Day
Is with us once again.

--_By Mamie Crosby._

SARAH GILLIAM WILLIAMSON.

The most remarkable woman who lived in Georgia during the Revolutionary War, perhaps, was Sarah Gilliam Williamson. Considering her loyalty to the cause of the colonies, her courage in managing the plantation and large number of negro slaves during the absence of her husband in the army, her sufferings at the hands of the enemy, together with the success of her descendants, she stands ahead of any of the Georgia women of her day.

Sarah Gilliam was born in Virginia about the year 1735. Her father was William Gilliam, and her mother Mary Jarrett, the sister of Rev. Devereau Jarrett, the distinguished Episcopal minister.

Sarah Gilliam married Micajah Williamson, a young man of Scotch-Irish parentage. In 1768 the young couple moved to Wilkes County, Georgia, and settled on a fine body of land. It was while living here in peace and abundance, with their growing family around them, that the difference between the mother country and the colonies began.

Sarah Williamson and her husband both warmly espoused the cause of the colonies, and when hostilities commenced a Georgia regiment took the field with Elijah Clarke as Colonel, and Micajah Williamson as Lieutenant-Colonel. Micajah Williamson was present in all the conflicts of this regiment and in the battle of Kettle Creek Col. Clarke gave him full credit for his part in winning the victory.

Many scenes of this nature were enacted in the neighborhood of Sarah Williamson's home, and this fearless woman not only witnessed the conflicts, but sometimes participated in them. Her husband was twice wounded and to him she gave the care of a devoted wife, nursing him back to health and to the service of his country.

Year after year during this long struggle Sarah Williamson bravely assumed the part of both the man and the woman. Under her excellent management the plantation was cultivated, supplies were furnished the army, and spinning wheels were kept busy making clothes for husband, children and slaves. Thus she toiled in the face of ever-present danger, threatened always with hostile Indians, cruel Tories and British soldiers.

Finally, one day the dreaded Tories, incensed at her husband's activity in the cause of the colonies, made a raid on the home and after taking all they wanted, destroyed by fire every building on the plantation, and their fiendish hearts not being yet satisfied with the suffering of this loyal woman, they hung her eldest son, a handsome youth, in the presence of his mother.

Her courage undaunted by this great calamity, Sarah Williamson had the faithful slaves gather up the remaining live stock running at large in the woods, and with her entire household went as a refugee to the mountains of North Carolina, where they remained until the close of the war, when they returned to the plantation.

A few years later the family moved to Washington, Georgia. Here again it became necessary for her to manage for the family when her husband was commissioned Major-General of Georgia troops and led an army against the hostile Cherokee Indians. Peace was made, however, before a battle was fought.

Now Sarah Williamson began to reap the reward her love, sacrifice, energy and labor had won. Her five sons grew to be successful men, her six daughters to be refined, educated and beautiful women, who became the wives of prominent men. One daughter married John Clarke who became Governor of Georgia.

To this Georgia mother belongs the distinguished honor of being the first American woman to furnish from her descendants two Justices of the Supreme Court of the United States; Justice John A. Campbell of Alabama was her grandson, and Justice L. Q. C. Lamar of Georgia and Mississippi was her great grandson.--RUBY FELDER RAY, _State Historian, D. A. R._

A COLONIAL HIDING PLACE.

In sailing up the Hudson River, about one hundred miles above New York, you will discover on the west side a rather broad estuary, named by the old Dutch settlers, the Katterskill Creek.

This creek flows through a cleft in the mountains, known in the quaint language of the Dutch as the Katterskill Clove.

This clove, nature's pass through the mountains, was well known, and used by the tribes of the Six Nations, and especially by the vindictive, and blood thirsty Mohawks, as an easy trail by which they would descend upon the peace-loving and thrifty Dutch settlers; kill all the men who had not fled for refuge to the strong stone houses which were specially built for defence; capture the women and children, and kill all the live stock.

On the peninsula between the river and the creek, the latter being wide and deep enough to float the magnificent steamers which ply between Albany and New York, stood the colonial mansion to which your attention is called.

This mansion, for it was a splendid structure for those days, and the term would not be a misnomer in these, was built in 1763 by a Madam Dies, a Dutch matron, who afterwards married an English army officer. This man was so infatuated with his Dutch "vrow," and her wealth, that he deserted the colors, and would hide from search parties in the place to be hereinafter described.

The house was built of the gray sand stone found in that region, and was two stories high, with a capacious cellar, and an immense garret. The walls were nearly three feet thick, set in cement, which became so hard that when the day of destruction came a few years ago, the workmen were unable to tear the walls apart, but had to blow them down with dynamite. One hundred and fifty years had that cement been setting, and it was as hard as the stone itself.

In the cellar was a well to provide water in case of siege by the Indians, and heat was obtained by huge fire places in each of the eight large rooms, the smoke from which was carried off by two giant chimneys, and on one of these chimneys hangs the tale which is the excuse for this article.

Madam Dies, true to her name, was gathered to her fathers, and her craven husband went to the place prepared for those who desert their colors.

Leaving no direct heirs, the house with its ten acres of grounds, and known from its elegance and size as "Dies Folly" passed into other hands, and finally, early in the nineteenth century, was purchased by Major Ephriam Beach, and remained in the family for nearly one hundred years, until destroyed by the exigencies of business.

The huge chimneys reared their massive proportions in the center of each side of the house, and Major Beach, wishing to rearrange the interior of his dwelling, tore down the one on the north side. As it was being taken down, brick by brick, they came to where it passed through the garret, and there the workmen discovered a secret recess capable of holding several people.

It was cunningly conceived with the entrance so arranged as to exactly resemble the brick composing the chimney, and an enemy might hunt for days and fail to discover the secret hiding place. It was evidently intended as a concealed refuge in case the house should be captured by the Indians, but so far as known was never used for that purpose, the village never being attacked after the house was built. Some dishes and a water jar which were found in the hidden chamber, served to prove that the husband of Madam Dies used it to conceal himself from the British soldiers when they were hunting him, but apart from that undignified proceeding it was never used.

"Proclaim liberty throughout all the land, unto all the inhabitants thereof."]

The house was well known to be haunted, and there are many well authenticated ghost stories told in connection with it; but the spooks were a decent and well behaved lot, and never disturbed the writer, who spent many years within its substantial walls.

The daughter of the writer was the last of my children born therein, and she never saw even a fairy Godmother, although both of her grandmothers hovered around her cradle.

The writer, Edward Cunningham Beach, is a grandson of Major Ephriam
Beach, herein mentioned and the baby daughter in aforesaid is Mrs.
Barrett Cothran, of Atlanta, Georgia.--_Council Safety Chapter, D.
A. R._

A HERO OF THE REVOLUTION.

The descendants of Grace (Pittman) McArthur still tell to their children the story of Philip Pittman, her father, as it has been handed down from father to son.

Philip was born July 7, 1765. He was one of eleven children of John and Mary Pittman. His father served in the Revolution, as Matross in Capt. Harman Davis' Company, 4th Artillery Regiment of South Carolina, commanded by Col. Barnard Beckman.

Though too young, probably, to enlist, the revolutionary fires burned so brightly in the young patriot's breast that he was ready to give his life to his country even though he might not carry sabre or musket.