USA > New Hampshire > Gathered sketches from the early history of New Hampshire and Vermont, containing vivid and interesting account of a great variety of the adventures of our forefathers, and of other incidents of olden times > Part 10
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Thou saw'st the tawny Indian's light canoe - Glide o'er the pond that glistens at thy feet, And the white hunter first emerge to view From up yon ravine, where the mountains meet, To scare the red man from his ancient seat, -Where he had roamed for ages, wild and free. The motley stream which since from every state And clime through this wild vale pours ceaselessly, Travellers, gay tourists, all have been a theme to thee.
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THE OLD MAN OF THE MOUNTAIN.
In thee the simple-minded Indian saw The image of his more benignant God, And viewed with deep and reverential awe The spot where the GREAT SPIRIT made abode ; When storms obscured thee, and red lightnings glowed
From the dark clouds oft gathered round thy face,
He saw thy form in anger veiled, nor rowed
His birchen bark, nor sought the wild deer chase, Till thy dark frown had passed, and sunshine filled its place.
O that some bard would rise - true heir of glory,-
With the full power of heavenly poesy,
To gather up each old romantic story
That lingers round these scenes in memory, And consecrate to immortality ; Some western Scott, within whose bosom thrills That fire which burneth to eternity -
To pour his spirit o'er these mighty hills,
And make them classic ground, thrice hallowed by his spells.
But backward turn; the wondrous shape hath gone ;
The round hill towers before thee, smoothly green ; Pass but a few short paces further on, Nought but the ragged mountain side is seen ; Thus oft do earthly things delude, I ween,
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THE OLD MAN OF THE MOUNTAIN.
That in prospective glitter bright and fair, While time, or space, or labor intervene ; Approach them, every charm dissolves to air ; Each gorgeous hue hath fled, and all is rude and bare. 15 *
THE NEW HAMPSHIRE RANGERS.
ORIGINAL. F. C.
AMONG all the men who were engaged during those early times when unflinching courage and firm self-reliance were the only assurances of safety in battling for their own existence and that of the dear ones who clustered around their firesides, there were none, from one end of the American shores to the other, whose brave and daring spirit was held in so much repute as was that of the New Hampshire Rangers. Thoroughly inured to the hardships of a frontier life, and initiated by experi- ence into all the stratagems of border warfare, they made soldiers, when it became time for them to take the gun in hand, that friends could depend upon, and that enemies could not but fear. This fact has been attested by every engagement in which these troops took any part. It is only necessary to men- tion the well-known battles of Bunker Hill and Bennington, and the capture of Ticonderoga, to enable the reader to draw his own conclusions.
The incident which the writer is about to narrate is but another testimony to the same fact-the (174)
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most of it a family tradition, which now for the first time takes its place upon the historic page.
In the year 1755, the second from the beginning of the old French war, Baron Dieskau, a brave and experienced officer, was ordered to proceed from Canada up Lake Champlain, and to seize, if possible, the English posts upon that lake and Lake George. To effect that purpose he took with him a strong detachment of French regulars, Canadians, and In- dians, amounting in all to eighteen hundred men. Before any part of his object had been accomplished, however, he engaged in battle with General William Johnson, upon the banks of Lake George, was en- tirely defeated, and himself received a mortal wound. Such of his men as were able to make their escape retreated to a place about four miles from the battle field, and there encamped.
In the mean time a party consisting of two hun- dred New Hampshire Rangers had been despatched from Fort Edward to assist the main body of pro- vincials under General Johnson. This party was commanded by Captain McGinness, of New Hamp- shire, a capable and vigilant officer. Proceeding cautiously through the woods, the scouts in advance discovered the French and Canadian soldiers in their camp, numbering several hundreds. The Rangers were speedily informed of the proximity of their foc, and though greatly outnumbered, their intrepid hearts would not allow them to retreat. They determined to attack ; and as the word was given to advance, each man seized his firelock with
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firmer grasp, and moved on steadily and in order. It was now afternoon, and the French officers were in the centre of the camp, engaged in consultation as to how they might make the best of their disas- trous condition, and get back to Canada in the quickest possible manner. The men were standing about, some cooking, some arranging their muskets and accoutrements, when the sentinels, who had not perceived the cautious approach of the Rangers till they were close upon them, gave the alarm. They sprang to arms with all the energy of desperation. But the movements of the hardy sons of New Hamp- shire were far too rapid to allow them to form in battle array.
Hardly had the warning shout of the sentinels rung through the camp when it was followed by a huzza which made the welkin ring again, and in an instant the bold Rangers poured in upon them with so fierce an onset that neither Canadians, French- men, nor Indians could stand against them for a moment. All order and subordination were of course destroyed. Every man fought for himself, as best he could - some from behind trees, some from rocks, some lying at length behind little pieces of rising ground, firing in terror or in random and desperate fury. From their superior numbers they might even then have gained the victory ; but the New Hampshire men understood this kind of fight- ing even better than they, and having once put their hand to the work they would never turn back. Selecting their stations with a practised eye, they
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maintained the contest with unabated vigor, fight- ing man to man, or sending their unerring bullets wherever a head or part of a body offered a mark for their deadly aim.
Two hours passed on, and the battle raged as fiercely as ever. The forests still rang loudly with the reports of muskets, the cheers of the provin- cials, and the yells and shouts of the savages and the French. The blue smoke grew thicker as it curled slowly up among the trees, and the sun, as it went downward in the heavens, sent a darker shade from the thick foliage over the heads of the com- batants. Yet the fight went on, and neither party had secured the advantage. The intrepidity and skill of the rangers were an equal match for the num- bers of their foe. Neither was inclined to yield.
At last, however, the tide of victory was turned completely in favor of the Americans by a ruse of their able commander. The drummer and fifer of the company had, at the beginning of the battle, laid themselves down for safety behind a large log, at some little distance in the rear of their com- rades. Captain McGinness, observing this, cau- tiously approached them, and gave directions that at a given signal from him they should rise up and vigorously ply their instruments. He then quietly returned to his place, and gave the pre-concerted sign. The musicians sprang to their feet, and their lusty efforts soon made the woods reëcho with the martial sounds. " A reënforcement !" shouted Cap- tain McGinness ; "men, to your work !" Right
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and left caught up the words, and the cry of "Re- enforcements ! reinforcements !" animated the hearts and gave new vigor to the arms of the provincials, while it sent terror to the hearts of their opponents. Panic-stricken at the sounds, they could no longer stand their ground. They rushed headlong from their places, and fled through the woods in the wild- est disorder and dismay - the polished Frenchman and the savage striving only as to which should get first from the presence of their dreaded foe. The Rangers followed them with vigor, but the pur- suit was short, for darkness soon put a stop to the prospect of accomplishing any thing among the tan- gled under-brush. And thus, under cover of night, the French and Indians got away as best they could.
The Rangers found, on calling the roll, that they had lost but twelve men, while the ground was strewed with the dead bodies of the enemy.
The writer cannot forbear to add an interesting incident that occurred during this battle. Ono Jonathan Chase, of Hopkinton, N. H., an expert marksman, had located himself somewhere near the centre of the belligerents. In the course of the action he was led to notice a large stump, nearly opposite him, a little in advance of the main body of the enemy. From this a shot was fired at inter- vals, and almost always to the injury of some one of his comrades. Looking carefully at the stump, he discovered a knot hole in the front of it, through which presently the muzzle of a musket was pushed, and, after a moment's delay, discharged. As quick
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THE NEW HAMPSHIRE RANGERS.
as thought Chase's plan was laid. Knowing that the savage would desire to learn the effect of his shot, he levelled his musket, waited an instant, then sent his bullet straight through the aperture. A faint yell reached his ear, and the body of a huge savage rose from the stump, and fell heavily to the ground. The work of death was as sure as it was speedy.
When the enemy were seized with panic, Chase followed them, and passing the body of his foe, snatched from his pack a wooden hominy-spoon which hung outside. He then observed that the stump was hollowed out like a tray, thus afford- ing its occupant protection. The only opening was that which the Indian had used as a port hole, and through which the bullet of the keen-eyed marksman had entered. The Indian was shot through the brain, the ball having entered just above the right eye.
The wooden spoon was carried home, and remained long in the family as a valued relic. It was a curi- ous specimen of savage workmanship, much orna- mented, and having the figure of an Indian carved upon the handle. The bowl was large, and a pro- jection on the handle served for a sort of pedestal for the Indian figure, which was in a sitting posture, the elbows resting on the knees, and the hands hold- ing to the mouth a water bottle, from which he was drinking.
This spoon was an object of great interest to the
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youngsters of the family ; and when the head of its brave winner was silvered with age, it was his de- light, as well as theirs, to have them gather around him on a winter evening, and ask him to tell over again the story of the wooden spoon.
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KILBURN-MALLORY-BOSTON
BURNING OF ROYALTON.
THE BURNING OF ROYALTON.
THE following account is taken as it stands from a book published more than fifty years ago. It was written by Zadoc Steele, who was taken and carried captive by the enemy at the time of the attack, and who afterwards escaped and returned through great suffering and privation to his home and friends. It may therefore be relied upon as a faithful account of the scenes it describes. At the first reading, the editor took his pencil in his hand to correct some inaccuracies of style which met his eye ; but finding that one alteration would lead to many more, and that in endeavoring to improve the style he would be likely to destroy the vivid and graphic character which an eye witness had impressed upon the ac- count, he determined to insert the whole story in its original dress. For pathos and copiousness of language the author could hardly be excelled. Had he possessed a thorough education, no doubt he would have stood equal, if not superior, in these respects, even to the two famous historians of Napo- leon the Great which our own times have produced.
As a union of interest always strengthens the bonds of affection, so a participation in extreme
16 (181)
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sufferings will never fail to produce a mutual sensi- bility. Prompted by a generous glow of filial love and affection, we generally take delight in survey- ing whatever gave our forefathers joy, and are ready to drop a sympathetic tear when we review the suf- ferings which they have undergone. But, contrary to the laws of sympathy and justice, the attention of the public is often engrossed with accounts of the more dreadful conflagrations of populous cities in foreign countries, or the defeat of armies in the field of carnage; while the destruction of small frontier settlements by the Indian tribes in our own country is at the same time little known, if not entirely forgotten. Thus the miseries of our neigh- bors and friends around us, whose bitter cries have been heard in our streets, are too often suffered to pass unnoticed down the current of time into the tomb of oblivion.
The burning of Royalton was an event most in- auspicious and distressing to the first settlers of that town. Nor is it a little strange that, among the numerous authors who have recorded the events of the American revolution, some of them have not given place in their works to a more full detail of that afflictive scene.
Laboring under all the difficulties and hardships to which our infant settlements were subject, and striving by persevering industry to soar above every obstacle which might present itself to obstruct their progress, they had filled their barns with the fruits of the land, their storehouses were crowded with
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the comforts of life, and all nature seemed to wear a propitious smile. All around them promised pros- perity. They were far removed from the noise of war; and, though conscious of their danger, fondly hoped they should escape the ravages of a savage foe.
Royalton was chartered in the year 1779. A con- siderable settlement, however, had taken place pre- vious to that time, and the town was in a thriving condition. Large stocks of cattle, which would confer honor upon the enterprise of farmers in old countries, were here seen grazing in their fields.
United by common interest, living on terms of friendship, and manifesting that each one in a good degree "loved his neighbor as himself," harmony prevailed in their borders, social happiness was spread around their firesides, and plenty crowned their labors. But, alas! the dreadful reverse re- mains to be told. While joys possessed were turned to sorrows, their hopes for joys to come were blasted. And as the former strongly marked the grievous contrast between a state of prosperity and affliction, the latter only showed the fallacy of prom- ising ourselves the future.
On the morning of the 16th of October, 1780, before the dawn of day, the inhabitants of this town were surprised by the approach of about three hun- dred Indians of various tribes. They were led by the Caghnewaga tribe, and had left Canada intend- ing to destroy Newbury, a town in the eastern part of Vermont, on Connecticut River. A British lieu-
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tenant by the name of Horton was their chief com- mander ; and one Le Mott, a Frenchman, was his second. Their pilot, or leader, was a despicable villain, by the name of Hamilton, who had been made prisoner by the Americans at the taking of Burgoyne in 1777. He had been at Newbury and Royalton the preceding summer on parole of honor, left the latter place with several others, under pre- tence of going to survey lands in the northern part of this state, and went directly to the enemy. He was doubtless the first instigator of those awful depredations which were the bitter fruits of this ex- pedition, and which ought to stamp his name with infamy and disgrace.
On their way thither, it is said, they came across several men from Newbury, who were engaged in hunting near the place where Montpelier village now stands, and made them prisoners. They made known their object to these hunters, and inquired of them whether an armed force was stationed at New- bury. Knowing the defenceless state of that town, and hoping they should be able to induce the In- dians to relinquish their object and return to Canada, they told them that such an armed garrison was kept at Newbury as would render it extremely dangerous for them to approach - thus artfully dissembling by ambiguity of expression the true condition of their fellow-townsmen, and, like Rahab the harlot, saved their father's house from destruction.
Unwilling, however, that their expedition should prove wholly fruitless, they turned their course to
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Royalton. No arguments which the prisoners could adduce were sufficient to persuade them from that determination.
Following up Onion River as far as the mouth of Stevens's branch, which empties into the river at Montpelier, they steered their course through Barre, at that time called Wildersburg ; proceeded up Gaol branch, which forms a part of Stevens's branch, and travelled over the mountains through Orange and Washington ; thence down the first branch of White River, through Chelsea and Tunbridge, to Royalton. They laid in their encampment at Tun- bridge, not far distant from Royalton, during the Sabbath, the day preceding their attack upon the latter place, for the purpose of concerting measures to carry into effect their atrocious and malignant designs. Here were matured those diabolical seeds of depredation and cruelty from which sprang bit- terness, sorrow, and death.
. As they entered the town before daylight ap- peared, darkness covered their approach, and they were not discovered till Monday morning at dawn of day, when they entered the house of Mr. John Hutchinson, who resided not far from the line sep- arating Royalton from Tunbridge. He was totally ignorant of their approach, and wholly unsuspicious of danger till they burst the door upon him.
Here they took Mr. John Hutchinson and Abijah Hutchinson, his brother, prisoners, and plundered the house ; crossed the first branch, and went to the house of Mr. Robert Havens, who lived at a small 16 *
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distance from Mr. Hutchinson's. Mr. Havens had gone out into his pasture in pursuit of his sheep, and having ascended a hill about forty rods from his house, hearing his neighbor Hutchinson's dog bark, halted, and stood in pensive silence. Here he listened with deep anxiety to know the extent of the evil he feared. But, alas! he little expected to find a herd of savage men. It was his only fear that some voracious animal was among his sheep, which so disturbed the watchful dog. While he listened in silence, with his thoughts suspended, he heard a noise as of sheep or cattle running with full speed through the water. Casting his eye to the west, towards his own dwelling, he beheld a com- pany of Indians just entering the door. Seeing his own danger, he immediately laid down under a log, and hid himself from their sight. But he could not
hide sorrow from his mind. Here he wept. Tears trickling down his withered cheeks bespoke the anguish of his soul while he thought upon the dis tress of his family. With groanings unutterable he lay a while, heard the piercing shrieks of his be- loved wife, and saw his sons escaping for their lives.
Laden with the weight of years, decrepit and in- firm, he was sensible if he appeared in sight it would prove his death. He therefore resolved not to move until a favorable opportunity presented. His son, Daniel Havens, and Thomas Pember were in the house, and made their appearance at the door a lit- tle before the Indians came up. Beholding the foe
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but few rods distant, they ran for their lives. Daniel Havens made his escape by throwing himself over a hedge fence down the bank of the branch and crawling under a log, although a large number of the Indians passed directly over it in pursuit of him. Who can tell the fears that agitated his bosom while these savage pursuers stepped upon the log under which he lay ? and who can tell the joys he felt when he saw them pass off, leaving him in safety ? - a quick transition from painful fear and imminent danger to joyful peace and calm retire- ment. They pursued Thomas Pember till they came so near as to throw a spear at him, which pierced his body and put an end to his existence. He ran some time, however, after he was wounded, till by loss of blood he fainted, fell, and was unable to proceed farther. The savage monsters came up, several times thrust a spear through his body, took off his scalp, and left him food for worms. While they were tearing his scalp from his head, how did his dying groans pierce the skies and call on Him who holds the scales of justice to mark their cruelty and avenge his blood !
He had spent the night previous at the house of Mr. Havens, engaged in amorous conversation with a daughter of Mr. Havens, who was his choice compan- ion, the intended partner of his life.
By imagination we view the fair survivor sur- rounded by the savage tribe, whose frightful aspect threatened ruin ; her soul overwhelmed with fear, and stung with grief, bereft of her dearest friend.
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They made the house of Mr. Havens their rallying point, or post of observation, and stationed a part of their company there to guard their baggage and make preparations for retreat when they had com- pleted their work of destruction. Like the messen- ger of death, silent and merciless, they were scarcely seen till felt ; or, if seen, filled the mind with terror, nor often afforded opportunity for escape. Moving with violent steps, they proceeded down the first branch to its mouth ; while a number, armed with spears, led the van, and were followed by others, armed with muskets and scalping knives. The for- mer they called runners, who were directed to kill all those who should be overtaken in an attempt to escape ; while the latter, denominated gunners, took charge of the prisoners, and scalped those who were killed.
They had not proceeded far before a young man, by the name of Elias Button, being ignorant of their ap- proach, made his appearance in the road but a few rods from them. Espying his danger, he turned and ran with the greatest possible speed in his power to escape their cruel hands. The savage tribe pursued him with their usual agility, soon overtook the trem- · bling youth, pierced his body with their spears, took off his scalp, and left him weltering in his gore. Young, vigorous, and healthy, and blessed with the brightest hopes of long life and good days, he was overtaken by the merciless stroke of death without having a minute's warning. Innocence and bravery were no shield, nor did activity. secure him a safe retreat.
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That they might be enabled to fall upon the inhab- itants unawares, and thereby secure a greater num- ber of prisoners as well as procure a greater quan- tity of plunder, they kept profound silence till they had arrived at the mouth of the branch.
After killing Pember and Button, and taking such plunder as most pleased their fancy, they proceeded to the house of Joseph Kneeland, who resided about half a mile distant from the house of Mr. Havens. Here they found Messrs. Simeon Belknap, Giles Gibbs, and Jonathan Brown, together with Joseph Kneeland and his aged father, all of whom they made prisoners. They then went to the house of Mr. Elias Curtis, where they took Mr. Curtis, John Kent, and Peter Mason. Mrs. Curtis had just waked from the slumbers of the night, and was about dressing herself as she sat upon her bed, when the savage monsters entered the door ; and one of them instantly flew at her, with a large knife in his hand, and scized her by the neck, apparently intending to cut her throat. While in the very at- titude of inflicting the fatal wound, the murderous. wretch discovered a string of gold beads around her neck, which attracted his attention, and pre- vented the dreadful stroke of death. Thus his avidity for gold allayed his thirst for human blood. His raging passions were suddenly cooled ; curiosity restrained his vengeance and spared the life of the frightened object of his cruelty. He had put the knife to her throat, and eternity seemed open to her view ; but instead of taking her life he only took
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her beads, and left her rejoicing at her deliverance. The barbarous looks of the wicked crew bespoke their malignant designs, and caused horror and dis- may to fill the minds of all who beheld them. But, alas! who can tell what horror thrilled the bosom of this trembling woman ? What fearful pangs were made to pierce her soul! Behold the tawny wretch, with countenance wild and awful grimaces, standing by her bedside, holding her by the throat with one hand, and the weapon of death in the other ! See standing around her a crowd of brutal savages, the sons of violence, foul tormenters ! In vain do I attempt to paint the scene. Nor will I pretend to describe the feelings of a kind and tender mother, who, reposing in the arms of sleep, with her infant at her bosom, is roused from her slumbers by the ap- proach of a tribe of savage Indians at her bedside.
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