,t-;i I
3
'WE GO W II ERE DEMOCRATIC PRINCIPLES POINT THE WAY J WHEN THEY CEASE TO LEAD, WE CEASE TO FOLLOW,"
BY JOHN G. GIVEN.
EBENSBURG, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 1819.
VOL. 6. NO. 5.
MISOKLL ANEO US
Frora iLe N. Y. Times.
WEATHER FORD.
A LEGEND OF THE CREEK WAR.
Several historians in narrating the events
oi oar second war with Great Britain,
have expressed surprise that the grand at
tempt to gain possession of New Orleans
was not made sooner. But, in truth the
attempt was being made to entire years
earlier than the xlate usually given in his
tory. With the declaration of war itself,
the court of St. James organized a master
ly, but most infamously cruel scheme of
combinations to grasp the 'Crescent City
the commercial crown and military key
to the Mississippi Valley; and with the
organization they also began the execution
of their plan, of which the landing of the
mighty armament at Bien Venn, on the 3d
of December, and the assault on the glori
ous 8th of January, were not the first, but
only the last and least bloody steps.
The primary and mot important move
ment was to excite the south-western In
dians to hostility against the Union, so as
to occupy the unerring riflemen of the
circumjacent stales, and thus leave the em
porium of the west in a manner totally de
fenceless. Accordingly, in 1812, an En
glish trader, named Elliot, accompanied by
a chief of the northern tribe of Pottawa
tamies the far-famed Tecumseh visited
the Alabama savages, and, by means of
large bribes paid down in Britisli gold,
and delusive promises of plunder and ex
tended domain, these emissaries finally suc
ceeded in cementing the formidable Creek
confederacy, actually comprising 10,000 of
the bravest warriors, and directed by the
unparalleled genius of Weatherford, one of
the most remarkable prodigies that ever
appeared in the annals of mankind.
Like the ancient Gauls, the Creeks of
that period might be considered under three
divisions. One of these inhabited the Ala
bama, another the Coosa, and the third
the Tallapoosa. The two latter rivers are
the upper and main forks of the Alabama.
The section of the Coosa was much the
strongest, and stretched westward beyond
the Tombigbee.
The neighboring settlements saw the
omnious cloud gathering, but could con
ceive no means of shelter from its te rrors,
or safety from seemingly inevitable des
truction. As a temporary relief they flew
into small forts. What, then, delayed the
dreadful blow? What chained for a time
the lightnings of the storm, all ready to
sweep the whole west with a besom of fire?
The great generalship of Weatherford was
unquestionable. Why, then, did not the
Indian Hannibal, who afterwards almost
proted a match for the genius of Jackson
pour his tin thousand desperata warri
ors at once in a resistless torrent of ruin
over the Mississippi territory, before the
American government could even issue a
single order? Had he done so, New Or
leans in all human probability would now
be a part of the British Empirp. That
such a cloud should go on accumulating
and blackening, without bursting, even for
months, presents a mystery which the sa
gacity of no historian hitherto has been
able to solve. Little did the many minds
mooting t lis riddle dream that it involved
a secret of nature's own thrilling romance,
as strange as it was unspeakably mournful.
As the present writer was travelling last
summer through Alabama, he learned the
followin' solution from an old farmer of
Horse-shoe Bend, at whose house he
chanced to stop over night. It agrees so
perfectly with the well known character of
Weatherford as to demonstrate its own
truth a priori, very nearly to the exclusion
of every other possible supposition.
Fort Mimms was situated in a vast for
est, near the forks of the Tombigbee, on
the left bank of the Black Warrior. A
quadrangular wall of enormous pine logs,
aud protected at the four corners by four
strong block houses, it might have been
deemed secure against any force destitute
of artillery. It was impregnable to other
arms if properly guarded. Its crarrison
numbered two hundred and seventy-five of
wnom nearly one half consisted of women
and children, having left their homes for
thi3 unfortunate asylum.
It was bright noon-day the 13 th of Au
gust, 1813, and Fort Mimms had not yet
experienced an alarm, although it had now
been manned for two long months. The
scouts had reported no signs of Indians for
several weeks paal ail d hence a fatal feel.
ing of security had possessed almost every
one. rherewasone heart within how
ever throbbing fearful forebobings
Seated on a wooden stool, in the com
pany of some dozen others of both sexes
a beautiful young girl was seen, whose
pale and troubled features attested the keen
anxiety of her soul.
'What ails my fair flower, Lucy Dean,
7 day? Hag sjie 8een a ghost, or been
beaming about Indians?' asked a fine
looking young officer, who had just enter
ed the hut.
Oh! she thinks that we will be scalped
before night, because the handsome Major
Montgomery left us this morning, cried
one of the maidens laughing. Lucy's oval
face colored with sweeter crimson than
ever blushed on the cheek of an evening
cloud.
No, that is not it, said a merry mad
romp, arching a pair of pretty black eye
brows into a comical expression. She is
afraid her old beau, Sultan Weatherford,
will pay her another visit, and she objects
to being made the light of the harem.
Lucy turned deadly pale at this sally of
wit; but she darkened the smile playing
.round the circle, by suddenly addressing
the officer, in tones so solemu that they
seemed like an unearthly warning. What
said General Claiboru when he parted with
Major Beasly?
To respect an enemy, and prepare to
meet him, as the only method to ensure
success, answered the officer.
Then look at yonder open gate, and
those little children running outside of the
fort, exclaimed the young girl wiih a
slight shudder. Is that preparation to
meet an enemy?'
My spies came in not an hour ago, and
assured me that there are no Creeks with
in fifty miles, replied the commander con
fidently. Oh! then, you do not know the won
derful art of Weatherford, and we shall all
perish!' sighed Lucy Dean, in a voice of
despair.
Just at that moment a small boy rushed
into the room with looks of wonder depict
ed on his countenance crying out eagerly
-'Oh! sister Lucy, you can't guess what
I saw in the cane near the river.'
What did you see, my son?' enquired
Major Beasly, smoothing thegolden locks
of the child.
I saw a negro with straight hair, and
his face all over stained with poke-berries,
and he had feathers in his head like a
bird.
Indians!' shouted Beasily, leaping out
of the door.
Indians! Indians!' screamed the women,
gathering their children, and flying wildly
to their blockhouses.
Indians! resounded from all parts of
the fort, as the aroused soldiers grasped
their guns.
But the alarm came too late. Two hun
dred painted warriors, headed by the bar-
) barously brave Weatherford in person al
I ready occupied the large gate, which was
iiierauy Drismng wun uritisn nayonets,
supplied by the infernal fellon Elliot, by
the order of his court a court ever devoid
of humanity as the demoniac ministry of
Lucifer himself.
A tremendous contest ensued. The
Americans animated by the example of
Major Beasley, strove to push their ene-
; mies from the gate. The Creeks inspired
to frenzy by the trumpet-tongue of Weath
erlord, struggled to maintain their ground.
The weapons employed by the front ranks
of combatants were swords, knives, toma
hawks, and bayonets. Those behind, who
could not get within striking distance, on
account of the throng fighting before them,
resorted to the rifle and musket. After fif
teen minutes frightful slaughter, the savages
entered the fort, not till every officer of the
garrison was dead, and all the soldiers
slain or mortally wounded. One might
have supposed the triumph of the Indians
complete. io uount tney tnougnt so
themselves, as they raised a wild and deaf
ening yell of infuriate joy. But a hundred
more were destined to bite the dust ere
the evening sun should gild the green pine
tops of the western woods. They had
murdered all the heroes. What then?
They had that day to learn, if they knew
it not previously, that despair could always
mould heroines out of American women
as well as men. Suddenly the majestic
form of the great chief Weatherford trem
bled. He heard the voice of Lucy Dean
giving orders and encouraging the females
in the block-houses to resist to the last ex
tremity. Immediately every angle of the
fort roared with exploding rifles, touched
off by the hands of the wives and sisters
of the slain; and fifty Indians fell to riso no
more.
A conflict, still more terrible than the
first followed, which was finally terminated
when the enemy fired the strongholds,
and, with a single exception, all the wo
men and children perished in the flames.
Comedown, Lucy, you shall not be
hurraed; Oh! come down,' cried the chief
of the Creeks, imploringly, as he saw the
red blaze mounting over the house where
he had distinguished her voice. But his
words were drowned in the shouts of his
own Indians, and in the shrieks of moth
ers and their babes, burning away in the
agonies of the most torturing of all deaths.
Five thousand dollars,' exclaimed the
frantic chief, to the man who breaks open
the iron-bound door!' and soon the shutter
started from its hinges, beneath a hail of
blows from rocks, hammers and hatchets.
Weatherford cut loose with his sword from
the friends who would have detained him
and disappeared in the burning building.
After some ten minutes the chief issued
forth from the flames, his face blackened,
his hair crisped, and his clothes on fire,
but bearing in his arms the fainting form
of Lucy Dean that precious burden, for
whom he would have plunged, without-.
shrinking, into fathomless hell itself. Oh!
miraculous light of love, thou art, in truth,
the only ray that ever reaches this dark
dungeon of a world which beams above
all the stars; and thou, bright essence cf
celestial ether, such as the angels breathe,
it is God gives thee even to the hardest
and savagest hearts; pure as dew, free as
rain-drops, and sweet as the cream of
Olympian nectar.
That evening the Creek commander
with one di vision of his army, set out for
his own plantation on the Alabama river.
The reader needs scarcely to be informed
that the beautiful young orphan was car
ried along with them.
Five days after the massacre of Fort
Minims, a man and a woman might have
been seen conversing in the porch of a fine
frame house, overlooking the Alabama.
Tiie woman was seated and appeared to
be weeping. The man was standing, and
gesticulated with much animation, as if
engaged in the delivery of an eloquent
speech. The world could not have offer
ed to the view a nobler specimen of hu
mantorganization. Tall in person, straight
and admirably proportioned in figure, with
every member cast in classic mould; his
black eye, lively, quick, and piercing; his
nose, prominet thin and elegant, as if cut
with a sculpture's chisel; and all his fea
tures harmoniously arranged, like some
master-piece of divine music, the whole
man might be pronounced matchless in ma
terial perfection. All who have perused
Claibom's 'Notes of the war in the South,
will recognize in our portrait the dreadful
Creek half-breed chief, Weatherford.
Yonder is my farm, and fifty slaves,'
said the chief, pointing his finger in the
direction of a fertile plantation; 'I have
boundless wealth; I am winning glory; I
am assured of a general's commission soon
from the greatest nation on the earth; and
when New Orleans and Louisiana are con
quered, I shall be a British Governor; and
all shall be yours, if you will share my
fortune, as you always possess my heart
undivided.' Weatherford paused for an
answer in vain and then continued 'I
have loved you for years. I have wooed
you almost without hope. For your sake
1 have renounced sensual indulgence, and
lived abstemiously as a monk. Ihavegiv
en you every possible proof of tenderness.
The fortune of war threw you into my
power, and although my passions are
ardent as the sun of summnr. I hnw nvr
1 even breathed in your ear an immodest !
wisn. Kjn: oe just, be generous, dearest
Lucy; at least be merciful to one who has
done and endured so much on your ac
count.' The deep earnestness of the speaker at
length appeared to produce its effect on the
young girl. She raised her pale face and
tearful eyes, and remarked mournfully
You sa you love me; then give me one
evidence that I may think better of your
proposal.
What is it?' he asked with a look of
intense anxiety.'
Break ofr your bloody alliance with the
enemies of my country, and bid your war
riors cease to murder innocent women and
children.'
Never!' replied Weatherford, in accents
ot unuterable determination. Your artful
deception misled me once. It cannot do
so again. Six months ago you encouraged
me to hope, provided I should not take
part in the war as a confederate of Britain.
Did you make good that implied pledge.
Let your conscience answer. But for my
foolish reliance on your word I should
now be master of the whole Mississippi
territory,'
Then never speak to me again of love,'
retorted Lucy Dean, bitterly.
Very well,' answered the other sadly.
And now listen to my fixed resolution.
I shall never harm you, or suffer you to be
harmed; but I cannot and will not live
without the sight of your sweet face. You
have your guard three brave men and
the girl Lyola. They shall attend you al
ways, and you shall travel with my army.
You shall be within hearing of my battles.
I shall see you every da)', but will never
speak to you moreno, not one syllable
unless you get on your knees and pray
to me as your God. Thus we two will
live in a strange and terrible wedlock;
and when you die, I will die also, and
we shall be burried in the same grave.'
And the chief called the savage guard,
who bore off Lucy weeping to her apart
ment. Weatherford was true to his fearful pro
mise. The wretched girl was in the rear
during every succeeding engagement and
was carried away by her dusky attendants
in the van of every flight. How awful
must have been her emotions amidst the
horrors of a dozen fierce combats! At Ec
canachaca, the Holy Town,' environed
in its dismal swamps, when Gen. Clai
borne charged through the thick brush
wood and the green mantled pools were
changed to crimson with both Amer
ican and Indian gore.
At Tallushatches, where Gen. Coffee
commanded, and every tree became a
breastwork, and every breastwork was
wrapped in sheeted fire from the brown
muzzles of hot, smoking rifles, till the bar
rels of the guns grew too warm for the
touch of human hands, and had to be cool
ed with water. Where the heroic Creeks
refused quarter, and spurned it themselves
when proffered by their foes, till three hun
dred corpses were food for the wolf and
raven!
At ensanguined Tallidega, when the
immortal Jackson in person, forming his
army in parallelograms,; pursued eleven
hundred savages, with the sharp points
of levelled bayonets, through a line more
than a mile long, while they slowly re
treated and were cut to pieces, fighting
all the while with the insane fury of
fiends.
At the Hillibee Town, where Gen
eral White with the East Tennessee mi
litia, almost eclipsed the glory of the reg
ulars. At the Tallapoosa, the 14th of January
1814, when Weatherford for a time, seem
ed more than a match for Jackson, and
the plain, and countless acres, was loaded
with the carcasses of dead men and their
horses.
At the South Fork, where Gen. Floyd
commanded, and for four hours the In
dians battled with the desperation of fan
atics. At the 'Bloody Defile, wlen even Car
roll's celebrated riflemen (that afterwards
mowed down the flower of Packenham's
army at New Orleans,) stricken with
terror, fled in utter dismay, and, but for
the incredible courage of Russel's compa
ny of spies who stood firm ancle deep in
blood, the American host had been anni
li dated.
And, finally at fifty other different points
where the dauntless daring of Weatherford
prompted him to hurl defiance in the grim
face of death.
At all these Lucy Dean was within hear
ing of ihe clangor, kept by her unchanging
guard; and still, every day, the great chief
would feast his eyes with a melancholy
gaze on her fading beauty, and yet never
addressed her again.
Never did the sun of sixty centuries
shine on braver soldiers thn the Creek
Indians, and never were braver men led
to battle by a more consummate general
than Weatherford. But nature's hero
ism was forced at last to yield to equal
courage, aided by the magic of tactics,
as swift as lightning and unening geom
etry. On ihe morning of the 28th of March
1814, Gen. Jackson moved with his entire
force, to assault the lines of Weatherford,
entrenched in a bend of the Tallapoosa
called, from its singular shape the 'Horse
shoe.' As the position in front was
stormed, the Indians turned for shelter to
their town in the rear. But lo! no town
was visible no! an impenetrable sea of
rolling smoke, surmounted ,by pillars of
soaring fire. During the obstinate engage
ment, the Cherokee alliesof the Americans
had swam the river, kindled the dry huts,
and cut off all chance of retreat. From
the first moment of the attack, foremost
amongst the self-appointed 'forlorn hope,'
who ascended the perilous wall, was the
accomplished Major Montgomery, of Vir
ginia, (the capital of Alabama speaks his
name to all time.) After the route, his
humanity urged him to rush through the
blazing village, to rescue from the flames
the women and children. Suddenly he
met an American flying wildly forwards.
She was pale, and her features so distorted
by terror, that he did not know her until
she sank fainting into his arms.
Oh Lucy! my own Lucy!' was all the
astonished officer could murmur, kissing
her clay cold cheeks. Then came a quic
flash and a sharp roar, and Major Mont
gomery lay on the ground a corpse.
Weatherford, in passing, hotly pursued
by a score of Cherokees, had fired a pistol
at Lucy Dean, which took effect in the
heart of her chosen lover.
The Creek chief himself appeared to
bear a charmed life. "Without a wound
amidst all the carnage, he distanced the
swiftest racers, and plunging into the riv
er, through a rain of hissing bullets, es
caped to the further shore, and was lost
in the lofty forrest. My informant was
near the point where Weatherford fought
at the storming of his Hues, and heard
himexciaim in tones of terrible despair
Qod's curse be on England, eternally, for
the deatli of my nation.'
Note Lucy Deanresides in the town
of Montgomery, Ala., and is the wife of a
respectable merchant, and mother of sev
eral promising children.
A Practical Joke
A correspondent of the Spirit of the
Times, writing from Burlington Vt., tells
the following story.
A few days since, Dan, one of the great
est specimens of the bean pole' family
now extant, was loafing about the Ex
change Hotel, with nothing particular to
burden his mind, and seeing the morning
paper upon the table in the harbor's room
he stepped, in and sat down to read. He
had been engaged but a few moments,
when a portly Englishman, just frora the
province, came puffing in at the door.
lie looked around a moment in doubt as
to the probability of his being in the right
shop, and finally growled out, rather than
said
Is the barbor in?'
1 am the person that shaves? said Dan
slowly erecting his long lank figure. Can
I do anything for you in my line?'
John Bull eyed his anything but Apollo
like proportions tor a moment, and taking
off his hat, sat down with the air of one
perfectly resigned to the ignominous fate
of submitting his chin for tonsorial opera
tion to a Yankee barber.
After carefully tucking the clean white
napkin about his customer's double chin,
Dan proceeded to make some lather.
With a little trouble, he found asmall sha
ving cup containing a bit of "Windsor"
somewhat larger than a big pea, into which
he turned a gill of warm, not hot, water,
and proceeded to beat up the soap in the
most approved manner, until the lather, if
so it may be called, was about the color
and consistency of milk. Then motioning
to his already somewhat impatient custo
mer to lay back, he commenced covering
his face with the liquid, begining at the tip
of his nose and working backwards to
wards his ears.
What! what what's that for?' blub
ered out Bull.
Keep your mouth shut,' said Dan, as
the brush slipped from the end of the r,ose
into the cavity below. 'I can't work while
you're talking.
Dan continued the operation of lathering
until there was scarce anything uncovered
but the forehead and eyes; and it was pret
ty certain that the soap and water was un
dermining the very foundation of the Eng
lishman's enormous standing collar, when
suddenly he required a 'clean towel, and
stepped out to procure one.
The Englishman waited awhile, but no
clean towel appeared. His neck was be
ginning to feel uncomfortable, and the li
quid, devoid of anything in the shape of
froth, was slowly trickling down his
back and shoulders, when all at once the
idea flashed across his mind that he was
sold.
'The d d Yankee!' was the first excla
mation, then catching his hat he rushed to
the door, but was too late, he had just
caught a glimpse of Dan's skirt as he
turned into Main street, and was soon out
of sight.
The discomfitted Englishman turned
back, and began to pace the floor, swear
ing about the cursed Yankees, After
taking two or three turns, he stopped
thought a moment, and then burst into a
loud roar.
Here, landlord, docs that fellow board
here?'
He does,' answered the grinning host.
Well, give him that tobacco-box, and tell
him if he ever comes to Montreal, 1 want
him to come and see me, and I will enter
tain him like a prince.'
Here the bell rang for the boat.
Who Struck my Brother Bub
Billy Paterson is done for thrown in-
to a mere shadow, as will be seen by the
iotiowi njr:
r it
OJd Bob Hilton was one of the hardest
cases that ever existed in Georgia or any
where else. lie excelled in only two
things in the frequency of his 4sprees,'
and the number of 'scrapes' the- led him
into. No election day, 'court week or
fourth of July ever passed over his head,
free of some difficult', resulting from his
free use of the intoxicationg beverage, or
as he termed it, 'spcrcts.' Bob had u
brother whose name was Peter, called by
his friends, Pete. Pete was a tall speci
ment of the genus homo, standing a
bout six feet two 'in his stockings. Ile
was very far from being a Julius Caisar
in point of bravery; but wheie there was
no danger, no man could talk louder, or
come to blood and thunder on a larger
scale, One day during a court week,
Bob, as usual became decently tight, or in
Georgia dialect, 'slightly interrogated.
Getting rather quarrelsome, sonje person
had presented him with a blotv between
the eyes which stretched him at full
length on the floor. Pete heard of it, and
SI
understanding that the gentleman who
had been kind enough to give Bub tho
floor had left, he startee up, and putting
on a ferocious countenance'exclaxmed;
Who struck my brother Bob?
No one answered, for all were too busy
talking for themselves.
Who struck my brother Bob? contin
ued Pete, waxing bolder, as he saw no
notice was taken of his first question.
'Who struck my brother Bb?' ha cried
the third time, working himself up into a
perfect fury, and stalking about the piaz
za of the grocery as if he did'nt fear any
body. He felt convinced that no one
would take up the matter but the "striker
himself, and as he was not in the vicinity
he wasn't afraid, not he. He was how
ever, doomed to disappointment; for just
as he yelled out the terrible question th
fourth time, a tall, broad shculJercdJfellow;
who was known as the bully of the coun
try, stepped up andsaid
I struck your brother Bob!'
Ah!' said Pete after surveying hia
brother Bobs enemy for several minutes.
Well you struck him u powerful lick!
Breech of Promise,
Actions by young ladies for breach of
promise, we had thought to b3 cue of the
perfections of British civilization. But
what spot in the world is not now civilized
or about to be civilized? In half a dozen
years more, the manners of mankind, from
Chili to Constantinople, will be as smooth
is a bowling-green. In Illinois, lately, a
young Indian fair.or brown one of some
distinction in the woods, inado her com
plaint to an old chief, of the faithlessness
of her betrothed. The squaw asserted
that she had no sooner made up her mind
to the marriage, than the youn? chief
J turned on his heel and choose to marry
somebody else. 1 he case was brought
before the heads of the tribe. The matter
was regarded as touching the public hon
or, and the old warriors heli a grand
council on the subject. As, among them
there are yet no professed lawyers, jus
tice was not so tardy as in more accom
plished countries, and the case was plead
ed by the's ,uiw herself. It consisted cf
statements of frequent visits of the young
warrior to the wigwam; of his smoking a
considerable quantity of her father's to
bacco, and eating their venison when he
could get it; those attentions to himself
being connected with frequent attentions
to the lady, the statement being corrobo
rated oyseveral bunches of feathers, yards
of Welch flannel, three fox tails and a
scalp. The lover was then called on.
He denied the charge cf affection alto
gether. With an air which could not bo
exceeded by a man of fashion, he said
that, though it was true he had visited
her father's wigwam, he had done it only
when he had nothing else to do, when tha
beavers were not to be found, or the buf
faloes were gone. As to the "feathers
and flannels," he acknowledged that ho
had given them merely as matters cf com
mon civility. As he concluded his speech
the squaw gave a loud scream and faint
ed in the arms of her mother. The old
chiefs proceeded to judgment, and, wheth
er guided by the justice of the case, or
touched with the sufferings of the squaw
brought in a verdict of damage, senten
cing the offender to give the broken-hearted
fair one a yellow feather, a brooch
that was then dangling from his nose, and
a dozen beaver skins. The sentence was
no sooner pronounced than the squa'.v re
covered from her swoon, sprang to her
feet, clapped her hands with joy, and
cried out, "Nov. I am ready to court
ariin."
I Scene ix School. The teacher, a
young lady, put the question to her schol
ars, one morning, 'Who made you?' The
oldest boy in the school could not tell,
neither could any of the scholars, till she
questioned the smallest and the 3'oungcst
of the school. He answered prompdy.
God.' The teacher turning to the largest
boy, rebuked him, saying, 4Are you not
ashamed to not know what this little fel
low knows!'
He replied the big 'un, with a look of
contempt as he gazed down at the fine little
fellow, tThunder! I should think he might
know, for 'taint a fortnight since he teas
made!'
E3It is said the oldest inhabitant of
this country, and some say of the world,
is the celebrated Miss '?nn- Tiquity. Who
knows an older?
We have an idea that Miss E. Ternity
is a trifle older?
Flowery. Somebody says that a wife,
full of truth, innocence and love, is the
prettiest flower a man can wear next tq
his heart.
The reason why many ladies dodge an
offer of marriage, is because the quc5tion
is popped 3t them.