USA > Georgia > Georgia's landmarks, memorials and legends, Volume II > Part 32
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Underneath a handsome box of marble, to the left of the main driveway, near the entrance, sleeps the mortal dust of a former member of Congress: HON. WILLIAM B. W. DENT. At one time Colonel Dent was the owner of Stone Mountain. He died in the prime of life, on the eve of the Civil War. The inscription on his monu- ment reads as follows:
Here lies what is mortal of WM. B. W. DENT, who was born in Bryantown, Md., Sept. 8, 1806, and died at Newnan, Sept. 7, 1855. He came to Georgia in 1826. Served in the Creek War of 1836, as Captain of the Heard County Volunteers. Was in the State Legisla- ture of 1843 as a representative from the County of Heard. Was elected a member of Congress from the 4th. District, in 1853. In his death society has lost a valuable member, the church an efficient servant, and the country a warm and devoted patriot.
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Within a few feet of the Dent lot there stands a hand- some monument of marble, the inscription upon which informs us that a noted ex-Congressman and jurist is here buried. On the front of the monument appears this inscription :
HUGH BUCHANAN. Born in Argyleshire, Scotland, Sept. 15, 1823. Died in Newnan, Ga., June 11, 1890. (Side)
As a Confederate soldier, he was brave and true; a Judge of the Superior Court, he was learned and just ; a member of the United States Congress, he was wise and patriotic. As husband, father, friend, and citizen, he was all that love could ask, all that loyalty could claim, all that the State could demand. He died as he had lived, a Christian.
To the right of the main driveway, near the entrance, there is a boxed tomb, the inscription on which records a fact of much interest. It reads as follows :
WM. POTTS NIMMONS. May 2, 1829. August 11, 1909. He was the first male child born in Newnan. He spent his whole life here, loved and respected by all who knew him.
Forever asociated with Newnan's local history is the name of PROFESSOR M. P. KELLOGG, a distinguished edn- cator and scholar, who founded the renowned Temple College. The monument over his grave was erected in large part by those who formerly sat at his feet in the class-room. It is a handsome shaft of granite, sur-
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mounted by an urn, and lettered with the following brief inscriptions :
(Front) M. P. KELLOGG. The faithful teacher.
(Side)
Aetat 66.
(Rear)
Erected by his pupils and friends.
Underneath an ornamental headstone of marble, on which the sculptor has chiseled an open Bible, sleeps the mortal dust of DR. JAMES STACY, a distinguished minister of the Gospel, scholar and historian. Dr. Stacy was for more than forty years pastor of the Presbyterian Church of Newnan. He also published a number of books, historical and religious, including a History of the Presbyterian Church in Georgia. The brief inscrip- tion on his monument reads as follows :
REV. JAMES STACY, D. D. 1830-1912. He was beloved by God and man.
Two Revolutionary soldiers, Randall Robinson and William Smith, are buried in the cemetery at Newnan (see Vol. I). Ex-CONGRESSMAN CHARLES L. MOSES sleeps in Oak Hill, but as yet his grave is unmarked. On the Bigby lot there are a number of beautiful monuments to various members of the family, but the noted jurist and former member of Congress, JUDGE JOHN S. BIGBY, is buried in Westview Cemetery, in Atlanta. Included among the many other distinguished Georgians who rest in Oak Hill, most of them under elegant monuments, are: DR. A. B. CALHOUN, GENERAL E. M. STOREY, REV. JAMES HAMILTON HALL, D. D., JUDGE JOHN D. BERRY, ROBERT D. COLE, ROBERT H. HARDAWAY, WM. B. BERRY, THOMAS J. BERRY, JOHN RAY, JOHN MERIWETHER HILL, WM. G. HILL, HENRY WILLIS HILL, JUDGE BENJAMIN WRIGHT, DR. K. C. DIVINE, and others.
SECTION IV
Myths and Legends of the Indians
SECTION IV
Myths and Legends of the Indians
I The Legend of Nacoochee
Long before the Anglo-Saxon had made his first foot- prints on these western shores; long before even the Genoese visionary had dreamed of a new world beyond the columns of Hercules, there dwelt in this lovely valley a young maiden of wonderful and almost celestial beauty. She was the daughter of a chieftain-a princess. In doing homage to her, the people of her tribe almost forgot the Great Spirit who made her and endowed her with such strange beauty. Her name was Nacoochee-"The Evening Star." A son of the chieftain of a neighboring and hostile tribe saw the beautiful Nacoochee and loved her. He stole her young heart. She loved him with an intensity of passion such as only the noblest souls know. They met beneath the holy stars and sealed their simple vows with kisses. In the valley, where, from the inter- locked branches overhead, hung with festoons, in which the white flowers of the climate and the purple blossoms of the magnificent wild passion flower, mingled with the dark foliage of the muscadine, they found a fitting place. The song of the mocking-bird and the murmur of the Chattahoochee's hurrying waters were marriage hymn and anthem to them. They vowed eternal love. They vowed to live and die with each other. Intelligence of these secret meetings reached the ear of the old chief, Nacoochee's father, and his anger was terrible. But
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love for Laceola was stronger in the heart of Nacoochee than even reverence for her father's commands. One night the maiden was missed from her tent. The old chieftain commanded his warriors to pursue the fugitive. They found her with Laceola, the son of a hated race. In an instant, an arrow was aimed at his breast. Nacoochee sprang before him and received the barbed shaft in her own heart. Her lover was stupefied. He made no resistance, and his blood mingled with hers. The lovers were buried in the same grave and a lofty mound was raised to mark the spot. Deep grief seized the old chief and all his people, and the valley was ever after called Nacoochee. The mound which marks the trysting-place and the grave of the maiden and her betrothed, surmounted by a solitary pine, are still to be seen, and form some of the most interesting features of the landscape of this lovely vale .*
II The Legend of Hiawassee
Over a century ago, a bitter warfare raged between the Catawba and Cherokee tribes of Indians. In one of those frequent and bold excursions common among the wild inhabitants of the forest, the son of the principal Cherokee chief surprised and captured a large town be- longing to the Catawba tribe.
Among the captives was the daughter of the first chief of the Catawbas, named Hiawassee, or "the beauti- ful fawn." A young hero of the Cherokees, whose name was Notley, which means "the daring horseman," instantly became captivated with the majestic beauty and graceful manners of the royal captive; and was over- whelmed with delight upon finding his love reciprocated
*Reproduced from White's Historical Collections of Georgia. ship unknown.
Author-
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by the object of his heart's adoration. With two attend- ants, he presented himself before the Catawba warrior, who happened to be absent when his town was taken by the Cherokees. To this stern old chief he gave a brief statement of recent occurrences, and then besought his daughter in marriage. The proud Catawba, lifting high his war-club, knitting his brow, and curling his lips, with scorn, declared that as the Catawbas drank the waters of the east, and the Cherokees the waters of the west, when this insolent and daring lad could find where these waters united, then and not till then might the hateful Cherokee mate with the daughter of the great Catawba. Dis- couraged but not despairing, Notley turned away from the presence of the proud and unfeeling father of the beautiful Hiawassee, and resolved to search for a union of the eastern with the western waters, which was then considered an impossibility. Ascending the pinnacle of the great chain of the Alleghanies, more commonly called the Blue Ridge, which is known to divide the waters of the Atlantic from those of the great west, and traversing its devious and winding courses, he could frequently find springs running each way, and having their source within a few paces of each other; but this was not what he desired.
Day after day was spent in the arduous search, and there appeared no hope that his energy and perseverance would be rewarded. But on a certain day, when he was well nigh exhausted with hunger and other privations, he came to a lovely spot on the summit of the ridge, afford- ing a delightful plain. Here he resolved to repose and refresh himself during the sultry portion of the day. Seating himself upon the ground, and thinking of Hia- wassee, he saw three young fawns moving toward a small lake, the stream of which was rippling at his feet; and whilst they were sipping the pure drops from the trans- parent pool, our hero found himself unconsciously creep- ing toward them. Untaught in the wiles of danger, the little fawns gave no indication whatever of retiring.
-
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Notley had now approached so near, that he expected in a moment, by one leap, to seize and capture one, at least, of the spotted prey; when, to his surprise, he saw another stream running out of the beautiful lake down the western side of the mountain.
Springing forward with the bound of a forest deer, and screaming with frantic joy, he exclaimed, "Hiawassee ! O Hiawassee! I have found it!"
The romantic spot is within a few miles of Clayton. Having accomplished his object, he set out for the residence of Hiawassee's father, accompanied by only one warrior, and fortunately for the success of the enter- prise, he met the beautiful maiden with some confidential attendants half a mile from her father's house. She in- formed him that her father was indignant at his pro- posals, that he would not regard his promises.
"I will fly away with you to the mountains," said Hiawassee, "but my father will never consent to our marriage." Notley then pointed her to a mountain in the distance, and said if he found her there, he should drink of the waters that flowed from the beautiful lake. A few moments afterward, Notley met the Catawba chief near the town, and at once informed him of his wonderful discovery, and offered to conduct him to the place. The Catawba chief, half choked with rage, accused Notley of the intention to deceive him, in order to get him near the line of territory, where the army of the Cherokees was waiting to kill him. "But," said he, "since you have spared my daughter, so will I spare you, and permit you at once to depart; but I have sworn that you shall never marry my daughter, and I cannot be false to my oath." Notley's face brightened, for he remembered the old warrior's promise. "Then," ex- claimed he, "by the Great Spirit, she is mine!" and the next moment he disappeared in the thick forest. That night brought no sleep to the Catawba chief, for Hiawas- see did not return. Pursuit was made in vain. He saw his daughter no more.
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THE LEGEND OF THE CHEROKEE ROSE
Notley, bounding through the mountains, soon met his beloved Hiawassee. Solemnizing the marriage according to the customs of the wilderness, they led a retired life in those regions for three years, and upon hearing of the death of his father, Notley settled in the charming valley of the river on the western side of the mountain, and called it Hiawassee, after his beautiful spouse. In proc- ess of time, he was unanimously chosen first chief of the Cherokees, and was the instrument of making perpetual peace between his tribe and the Catawbas .*
III The Legend of the Cherokee Rose
Once upon a time, a proud young chieftain of the Seminoles was taken prisoner by his enemies the Chero- kees and doomed to death by torture; but he fell so seriously ill, that it became necessary to wait for his restoration to health before committing him to the flames.
As he was lying, prostrated by disease, in the cabin of a Cherokee warrior, the daughter of the latter, a dark- eyed maiden, became his nurse. She rivalled in grace the bounding fawn, and the young warriors of her tribe said of her that the smile of the Great Spirit was not more beautiful. Is it any wonder, then, though death stared the young Seminole in the face, he should be happy in her presence? Was it any wonder that each should love the other ?
Stern hatred of the Seminoles had stifled every kindly feeling in the hearts of the Cherokees, and they grimly awaited the time when their enemy must die. As the color slowly returned to the cheeks of her lover and strength to his limbs, the dark-eyed maiden eagerly urged him to make his escape. How could she see him die? But he would not agree to seek safety in flight unless she
*Reproduced from White's Historical Collections of Georgia.
Author unknown.
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went with him; he could better endure death by torture than life without her.
She yielded to his pleading. At the midnight hour, silently they slipped into the dim forest, guided by the pale light of the silvery stars. Yet before they had gone far, impelled by soft regret at leaving her home forever, she asked her lover's permission to return for an instant that she might bear away some memento. So, retracing her footsteps, she broke a sprig from the glossy-leafed vine which climbed upon her father's cabin. and preserving it at her breast during her flight through the wilderness, planted it at the door of her home in the land of the Seminoles.
Here, its milk-white blossoms, with golden centers, often recalled her childhood days in the far-away moun- tains of Georgia; and from that time this beautiful flower has always been known, throughout the Southern States, as the Cherokee Rose .*
IV The Legend of Lover's Leap
In the early part of the nineteenth century the region watered by the lower Chattahoochee was inhabited by two powerful tribes of Indians. They were bitter and relentless rivals, though both belonged to the Confed- eracy of Creeks, and besides being equally matched in numbers, they possessed alike proud names. There was not a tribe in the nation which dared to vaunt itself be- fore a Cusseta or a Coweta.
It may have been a small matter from which the jealousy of these tribes originally sprung, but the tiny thing had been cherished till, like a serpent, each hissed at the sound of the other's name. The proud chief of the Cussetas was now become an old man, and much was he
*Mitchell: "Georgia Land and People," pp. 11-12.
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venerated by all who rallied at his battle-ery. The boldest heart in all his tribe quailed before his angry eye, and the proudest did him reverence. The old man had outlived his own sons; one by one had the Great Spirit called them from their hunting grounds, and in the flush of their manhood had they gone to the Spirit Land. Yet he was not alone. The youngest of his children, the dark- eyed Mohina, was still sheltered in his bosom, and all his love for the beautiful in life was bestowed upon her-alı, and rightly, too, for the young maiden rivaled in grace the bounding fawn, and the young warriors said of her that the smile of the Great Spirit was not so beautiful. While yet a child she was betrothed to the young Eagle of the Cowetas, the proud scion of their warrior chief. But stern hatred had stifled kindly feelings in the hearts of all save these two young creatures, and the pledged word was broken when the smoke of the calumet was extinguished. Mohina no longer dared to meet the young chief openly, and death faced them when they sat in a lone, wild trysting-place 'neath the starry blazonry of midnight's dark robe. Still they were undaunted, for pure love dwelt in their hearts, and base fear crouched low before it, and went afar from them to hide in grosser souls. Think not the boy-god changes his arrows when he seeks the heart of the Red Man; nay, rather with truer aim, and finer point, does the winged thing speed from his bow, and deeply the subtle poison sinks into the young heart, while the dark cheek glows with love's proper hue. The deer bounded gladly by when the lovers met, and felt he was free, while the bright-eyed maiden leaned upon the bosom of the young Eagle. Their youthful hearts hoped in the future, though all in vain, for the time served but to render more fierce that hostile rivalry, more rank that deadly hatred, which existed between the tribes. Skir- mishes were frequent among the hunters, and open hostilities seemed inevitable. And now it was told by some who had peered through the tangled underwood and the matted foliage of those dim woods, that the Coweta
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had pressed the maiden to his heart in those lone places, and that strange words and passionate were even now breathed by him to her ear. Then the hunters of the Cussetas sprang from their couches, and made earnest haste to the dark glen. With savage yell and impetuous rush they bounded before the lovers. They fled, and love and terror added wings to their flight. For a while they distanced their pursuers. But the strength of Moluna failed her in a perilous moment, and had not the young Eagle snatched her to his fast-beating heart, the raging enemy had made sure their fate. He rushed onward up the narrow defile before him. It led he forgot whither. In a few moments he stood on the verge of a fearful height. Wildly the maiden elung to him, and even then, in that strange moment of life, his heart throbbed proudly beneath his burden. The bold future alone was before him; there was no return. Already the breath of one of the pursuers, a hated rival, came quick upon his cheek, and the gleaming tomahawk shone before him. One moment he gazed on him, and triumph flashed in the eye of the young chief, then without a shudder he sprang into the seething waters below. Still the young maiden clung to him, nor did the death struggle part them. The mad waves dashed fearfully over them, and their loud wail was a fitting requiem to their departing spirits.
The horror-stricken warriors gazed wildly into the foaming torrent, then dashed with reckless haste down the declivity to bear the sad tidings to the old chief. He heard their tale in silence, but sorrows were on his spirit, and it was broken. Henceforth his seat was un- filled by the council fire, and its red light gleamed fitfully upon his grave .*
*John H. Martin's History of Columbus, with slight alterations in the first paragraph to make it conform to the historical facts.
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THE LEGEND OF SWEETWATER BRANCH
V
The Legend of Sweetwater Branch
Three miles from the quaint old town of St. Mary's, on the Georgia coast, the public road is crossed by a stream called Sweetwater Branch. It threads the land- scape like a skein of liquid silver, winding in and out through the dense foliage, and in spite of the solemn mosses which bend over it on either side, the little stream dances merrily among the ancient live-oaks and sends its laughter rippling through the gloomy depths of the forest. The waters of this tiny streamlet are not only crystal- clear, but pleasant to the taste-whence the name. In the olden time, when the red men still roamed the wilderness in this vicinity it is told that old Withlacoochee, an aged chieftain, was one day seated beside the road vainly trying to extract a thorn from his foot. Pretty Mary Jones, a belle of the white settlement and a maiden whose bright eyes and quick sympathies were well matched, chanced to be coming along the road just at this moment, and seeing the old warrior's predicament, volunteered her assistance, with the result that the ugly thorn was soon extracted.
Full of gratitude, the old Indian told the girl that if she ever needed help she must be sure to let him know. Shortly after this pleasant interview, a United States recruiting vessel appeared in the harbor and began to solicit young men to enlist in the navy. She bore the somewhat jocular name of the Smashing Nancy, but the trim uniforms of the marines and the splendid appoint- ments of the vessel constituted an appeal which the young men of the town could not resist. Among the number who felt the magic spell and who hastened to enlist in the crew of the vessel was Ben Johnson, a youth to whom Mary Jones was betrothed. When poor Mary learned the sad news her heart was broken. She dreaded the uncertainties of the long cruise and expected never to see her lover again.
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Half-distracted she was walking along the same road, loudly weeping and bewailing her fate, when she was espied by Withlacoochee, who quickly approached her and, in kind tones, inquired the cause of her distress. Between violent sobs, the poor girl told her story. The old chief smiled, but there was no derision in the playful gleam of the warrior's eye. "You were good to Withla- coochee," said the old chief, "and now Withlacoochee will be good to you ;" and so saying he gathered a handful of red berries and green leaves and scattered them on the water of Sweetwater Branch. "Now see," he resumed, "Withlacoochee has cast a spell on these waters, and whoever shall drink of them shall surely return. Bring your lover here and make him drink." Inspired with new hope, Mary brought Ben to the stream and he drank. He went away on the cruise, but the spell brought him back; and he and faithful Mary were happily wedded .*
VI
Yahula
Years ago, before the Revolution, Yahula was a pros- perous stock trader among the Cherokees, and the tink- ling of the bells, hung around the necks of his ponies, could be heard on every mountain trail. Once there was a great hunt, and all the warriors were out, but when it was over and they were ready to return to the settlement, Yahula was not with them. They waited and searched, but he could not be found, and at last they went back without him, and his friends grieved for him as for one dead.
Some time after, his people were surprised and de- lighted to have him walk in among them and sit down as they were at supper in the evening. To the questions
*Mr. J. T. Vocele, of St. Mary's, Ga., furnished the substance of this legend in a letter to the author.
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which were asked him, Yahula replied that he had been lost in the mountains, and that the Nunnehi or Immortals, had taken him to the town in which they dwelt, and here he had been kept ever since, with the kindest care and treatment, until the longing to see his old friends had brought him back. Importuned to join them at supper, he said that it was now too late-he had tasted the fairy food and could never again eat with human kind, and for the same reason he could not stay with his family, but must go back to the Nunnehi. His wife and children and brother begged him to stay, but he said that he could not; it was either life with the Immortals or death with his own people, and he thereupon arose to go. They saw him as he sat talking to them and as he stood up, but the moment he stepped from the doorway he vanished as if he had never been.
After this strange occurrence, he came back often to visit his people. They would see him first as he entered the door, and as he sat and talked he was quite himself in every way, but the instant he stepped across the thres- hold he was gone, though a hundred eyes might be watch- ing. He came often, but at last the entreaties for him to remain at home became so urgent that the Nunnehi must have been offended, for he came no more. On the mountain at the head of the Creek, about ten miles above the present town of Dahlonega, is a small square en- closure of uncut stone, without roof or entrance. Here it was said that he lived, so the Cherokees called it the Place of Yahula, and they also gave his name to the stream. Often at night a belated traveler, coming along the trail by the creek, would hear the voice of Yahula, singing certain favorite old songs which he used to sing as he drove his pack of horses across the mountains, the sound of a voice urging them on, and the crack of a whip and the tinkling of bells went with the song, but neither driver nor horses could be seen, although the sounds passed close by. The songs and the bells were heard only at night.
There was one man, a friend of Yahula's, who sang
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the same songs for a time after Yahula had disappeared, but he died suddenly, and then the Cherokees were afraid to sing these songs any more until it was so long since any one had heard the sounds on the mountain that they thought Yahula must have gone away, perhaps to the west, where others of the tribe had already gone. It is so long ago now that even the stone house may have been destroyed by this time, but more than one old man's father saw it and heard the songs and the bells a hundred years ago. When the Cherokees went from Georgia to Indian Territory in 1838 some of them said, "Maybe Yahula has gone there and we shall hear him," but they have never heard him again .*
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