USA > Wyoming > Wyoming; its history, stirring incidents, and romantic adventures > Part 22
Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27
One of Mr. Bidlack's brothers was captain of a com- pany of volunteers in the Indian battle, and fell at the head of his men. The year after, his father was taken prisoner by the Indians from Plymouth. After his father's imprisonment, his mother earnestly requested that her son Benjamin might be permitted to return home on furlough, to assist her in her lonely and help- less condition; but such were the necessities of the country that it was thought the example would be dangerous, and her prayer was not granted.
331
BENJAMIN BIDLACK.
When peace was concluded, Captain Bidlack was released from his captivity ; and when the army was discharged, his son Benjamin returned home; and now those who remained of the family were once more together. They were a family of patriots-were all tall, large-boned, powerful men, and good soldiers. Mr. Bidlack passed through the perils of the war with- out seeming to realize his exposure to death, until, about the time of its close, he came near being killed by the accidental explosion of a bomb-shell, which ig- nited on being flung from a wagon. The fragments flew, apparently, within a hair's-breadth of him on ev- ery side, and yet he escaped without harm. The event led to much serious reflection, which he never forgot.
He assisted in building "the Temple of Liberty," and in constructing a causeway across the marsh which lay between the two lines of the encampment at New- burg. The "temple" lingered in his memory as a great institution ; he almost seemed to regard it with super- stitious veneration. There they had religious worship, and the " splendid singing," in which he took a prom- inent part, was with him the beau ideal of harmony. "I never," said he to us, "heard such singing in my life. Some of the officers from New England were trained singers, and many of the men could sing well, and they made the temple ring with sweet and power- ful melody."
"For the armony And sweet accord was so good musike, That the voice to angels most was like."
CHAUCER.
"She said, In air the trembling music floats, And on the winds triumphant swell the notes ; So soft, though high-so loud, and yet so clear, Ev'n listening angels lean from heaven to hear."-POPE.
332
WYOMING.
He here witnessed the debates of the officers upon the subject of disbanding the army. They spoke in their uniform, with their swords by their sides. On one occasion, one of them, laying his hand upon the hilt of his sword, demanded, with great vehemence, " Gentlemen, are you prepared to give up these swords, which have procured freedom for the country, and for yourselves glory and renown ? Can you retire to your farms or shops, and ingloriously abandon the profes- sion of arms? Will you not rather spill your hearts' blood in defense of rights which have been so dearly bought in the camp and upon the field of battle ?"
Here "the Armstrong Letters" originated, and here the feelings of General Washington were sorely tried. We once took a stroll over the ground of the old en- campment, saw the rude masonry and portions of the foundations of the huts, and some vestiges of "the Temple of Liberty," and here the whole story, so elo- quently told by " Father Bidlack," as he was then call- ed, before his intellect had begun to fail, was revived in our recollection. We imagined we saw him before us, describing the scenes which took place during that interesting and critical period of our national history, shaking his venerable head, and remarking, with deep gravity and with great earnestness, " Ah! that was a trying time; but the wisdom, firmness, and patriotism of General Washington were equal to the emergency. He might have kept the army together and have been king of the country, but he preferred to be the farmer of Mount Vernon under a republican government."
Some time before the conclusion of the last Penn- amite and Yankee war, young Bidlack undertook some sort of a commercial expedition down the river in a boat. At Sunbury he was made a prisoner by the
·
Eachap
.RICHARDSON -COX.SC.
BIDLACK AT SICKSHINNY.
335
BENJAMIN BIDLACK.
Pennsylvanians, and confined in a place which they called a jail. He was a splendid singer and a merry fellow. Like many of the old soldiers, he was " ad- dicted to strong drink," and on evenings, when jolly circles love to assemble to while away an hour, to shake off the burdens of business, or to stimulate their ex- hausted nerves by the exhilarating draught, a company were accustomed to gather upon the stoop and hear Bidlack sing songs, of course affording him a suffi- ciency of the desired stimulant. The numbers of those evening gatherings increased from evening to even- ing, and the songs, the romantic stories, and the jokes- of the soldier became increasingly interesting, until he had become an object of more absorbing interest in the little town of Sunbury than a company of min- strels is now in one of our large cities.
The company were finally not quite satisfied with seeing the face of their interesting prisoner through the grates of the prison, but wished to view him at full length as he poured out his harmonious and powerful numbers. The door was accordingly opened, and he stood upon the threshold; but here he was too much cramped, and his gestures were evidently impeded by his position. " What's the use ?" said one; "let him
have room." And he was then allowed to come out and give himself free scope in gesticulation. He was a
tall, straight, majestic figure. The more room he had, the more fully did his sallies, cuts, and thrusts illus- trate and enforce the sentiment-either sense or non- sense-of the poetry, and the higher was the excite- ment and the louder the bursts of laughter among the merry companions of the gathering.
Evening after evening passed away in these exer- cises without the least abatement of the interest, when,
336
WYOMING.
at a late hour, the gallant hero of the farce would throw himself upon his pallet of straw, and sleep away the excitement of the maddening bowl. As Bidlack seemed to enjoy the company of his new associates, they began to regard him as a sort of fixture of the place, and to suppose that perhaps to be lionized would be thought a fair compensation for the loss of his lib- erty ; but they did not know the man. He was al- ways ready to make the best shift possible when un- der pressure. He would be merry in prison if in prison he must be, but it was not a place to his taste at all. Liberty had cost him too much to be bartered away for a mess of pottage.
Understanding perfectly his position, and noticing that the sympathies of his nightly visitors and the confidence he had inspired in their minds had com- pletely put them off their guard, he began to meditate turning the advantages of these circumstances to his account. He studied the matter thoroughly, and ar- ranged his plans.
"Now, since I have performed every part Of thy command as near as tongue can tell, Content thee yet, before my sense depart, To take this sonnet for my last farewell."
GASCOYNE.
He finally came out with a new song, entitled "The old Swaggering Man." . "That's the song for me," said one. "The best one yet," said another. "Let's have that over again," roared a third. "Well," said the performer, "let me rest a little, and take a good drink." "Yes, yes," all responded. After a few min- utes' intermission, and the " drink," of course, "Now," says the actor, "if you want a rouser, I must have a cane, and room to act it out. I want the whole length
LOSSING-BAPFITT
BIDLACK'S ESCAPE.
339
BENJAMIN BIDLACK.
of the stoop." "Bring on the cane! clear the way ! clear the way !" bawled a dozen. He sung one stanza, and then came on the chorus, "Here goes the old swaggering man." He brandished his cane, and stag- gered, and plunged from end to end of the stoop. A roar of merriment and shouts of applause resounded through the whole neighborhood. He now faced about, breathed hard, took another drink, and this time his movement was in the direction of Wyoming. He sang another verse, and then he roared out the chorus, "Here goes the old swaggering man," and in a trice sprang from the stoop, leaped the six-foot rail-fence which surrounded the premises, and was out of sight.
Some were petrified with astonishment, others cursed. and swore, while others laughed immoderately. "Aft- er him! after him!" cried the jailer. Half a dozen ran a few rods in the dark, and then, pausing to listen, heard his heavy, hurried tread dying away in the dis- tance. "There's no use," said they ; " he can outrun a deer." They returned to have a hearty laugh over the romantic adventure of the jolly Yankee prisoner. They separated, more regretting the loss of the amuse- ment which Bidlack had afforded them while detained as a. prisoner, than the success of the ruse he had prac- ticed upon them.
As may well be supposed, the fugitive made great progress during the night. He had fifty miles to travel, and the dawn of day found him on the home- ward half of his journey. He often laughed to him- self at the mere fun and romance of his escape so loud as to scare the night-birds of the mountains and glens. He repeated over with great glee the talismanic cho- rus, "Here goes the old swaggering man," and then he would skip and bound like the buck which had
340
WYOMING.
swum the river, reached the shore, and left the hounds on the other side. As he hies along the bank of the river, over the flats and through the narrows, we may imagine him singing Hudibras, slightly altered, to suit the occasion.
He that sings and runs away, May live to sing another day ; But he that doth in jail remain, May never sing at home again. Chorus. Here goes the old swaggering man.
The next day our hero safely arrived at his father's house in Plymouth. It was soon noised abroad that " Ben Bidlack had sung himself out of jail, and was at home safe and sound."
Young Bidlack married an Alden, a descendant of a family by that name which came to this country in the May-Flower. He struggled hard with poverty, and still harder with his army habits, but made no progress, and there seemed no human probability of his improving either his character or his fortune. At length he became awakened through the instrumentali- ty of the pioneers of Methodism, and finally became a Methodist preacher. He sustained this character to the termination of a protracted life. He had great power in the pulpit, and was as great a singer of the songs of Zion as he had been of the old patriotic bal- lads. He was for many years a most laborious and successful minister of the Gospel. He lost his wife while engaged in the active duties of the ministry, and was united in marriage to the widow of Lawrence Myers, Esq., of Kingston. He lived for many years in that place, a superannuated minister, much respected and beloved by all his neighbors. He finally died from a cancer on his nose.
341
BENJAMIN BIDLACK.
In the year 1825, we think, the citizens of Wilkes- barre called upon the venerable man for a Fourth of July oration. The surviving soldiers of the Revolu- tion were invited in from all the region round about, and they constituted quite a respectable company. Each had a sprig of laurel attached to the left breast of his coat. The orator was then as straight as an arrow, and marched to the music like any trained soldier, keeping the step while the band poured out the old national air, Yankee Doodle, in the very best style. The oration consisted principally of a narrative of the events of the Revolutionary war as they came under his own observation. His text or motto was, "For consider how great things the Lord hath done for you." His doctrine was that the hand of God was evidently concerned in the events of the Revolution.
He kept General Washington constantly before the audience. "When the Hessians were captured," said he, " the general rode round among the men, who were falling upon the spoils, and said, 'My brave fellows, don't drink and become intoxicated. God has given us the victory, but the enemy, in large force, is just at hand, and, should they find any of you lying upon the ground, which they will be sure to visit in a few hours, you will lose your lives.' He rode from company to company, repeating the same caution with the greatest earnestness."
His description of the cannonading of the British works at Yorktown was most thrilling. "For four- teen days and nights," said the orator, "there was one continual thunder and blaze. At night it was so light that you could see to pick up a pin. A white flag was raised from the British breastworks, and the firing ceased. It seemed as though the wheels of nature
342
WYOMING.
stood still; the silence was really distressing. Corn- wallis proposed to leave the ground with the honors of war, with colors flying, and to embark his army on the English ships in the nearest harbor. 'No,' was the answer, and the parley closed. 'Now,' said Wash- ington, 'give it to them hotter than ever.' And, sure enough, the storm of the battle raged more terribly than ever. They soon came to terms, and the heart of the war was broken."
LOSSING-BARRITT
343
BENJAMIN BIDLACK.
The illustration is a truthful representation of the Rev. Benjamin Bidlack in his preaching attitude in a private house, behind an old-fashioned chair. The sketch was executed by the Rev. Marmaduke Pearce, it is supposed, after hearing the old patriarch preach a funeral sermon in his own neighborhood.
344
WYOMING.
XIV.
A VIEW FROM CAMPBELL'S LEDGE, CONTRIBUTED BY REV. L. W. PECK.
AT the head of Wyoming Valley is Campbell's Ledge. The Susquehanna comes in from the north- west, and the Lackawanna winds around the base of the mountain from the northeast to mingle with the larger and bolder river. The mountain whose base they thus lave, and separate from the valley, is crowned by Campbell's Ledge. Having a few hours at Pitts- ton, I cast my eye wishfully over at the mountain, a distance of about two miles, and resolved to make the ascent. I was alone. My way led over the canal bridge, over the viaduct, and across the meadows to the mount- ain. I had just entered the wood and begun the as- cent when a beautiful pheasant started out near my feet, and ran some distance through the leaves, and then flew into the deep forest. I pursued my way, follow- ing an old mountain road, or making a path for my- self through the underbrush. At length I came out upon a plateau of ground gently sloping to the north; but the thick foliage would permit no view of the val- ley, which I was looking for as one looks for the genial face of an old friend. Still I wandered on, seeking the higher ground, but no ledge was visible. A pile of rocks, crowned with a scraggy oak, now and then ap- peared, but nothing was to be seen that answered the description I had received. I began to reproach my- self for coming without a guide, and wondered whether I should know Campbell's Ledge if I should happen
CAMPBELL'S LEDGE.
347
A VIEW FROM CAMPBELL'S LEDGE.
to come in sight of it. The woods at last became more open, and I saw the mountains at the west nearer. I turned at once toward them, when I found myself just ready to step off from the abrupt brow of a fright- ful precipice. I seized hold of a tree and hung upon the verge, and gazed down with awe upon the calm river, the green fields, and the grazing flocks hundreds of feet below. This, said I, in a subdued breath, is Campbell's Ledge.
I sank back upon the grass, and looked down upon Wyoming cradled between the mountains. The view of the Valley here presented differs from every other. The hilly portions are more prominent, and undulate far away southward till they terminate in the mount- ains. The river, like a broken belt of steel, is seen here and there glittering in the sun. I have often wandered in Wyoming, admiring her beauty, but Campbell's Ledge inspired me with a new emotion, that of overpowering sublimity. This view reminds me of the Hudson and the Catskills, but the precipice is more stupendous than that on which stands the Mountain House. Ye grand old mountains, which laugh in the sunshine and reverberate in the storm, "ye are wondrous strong, yet lovely in your strength." I have been carrying in my mind, amid these scenes, the stirring words of Ruskin :
" Mountains are to the rest of the earth what mus- cular action is to the body of man. The muscles and tendons of its anatomy are, in the mountains, brought out with force and convulsive energy, full of expres- sion, passion, and strength ; the plains and lower hills are the repose and the effortless motion of the frame, when its muscles lie dormant and concealed beneath the lines of its beauty, yet ruling those lines in their
348
WYOMING.
every undulation. This, then, is the first grand prin- ciple of the truth of the earth. The spirit of the hills is action, that of the lowlands repose; and between these there is to be found every variety of motion and of rest, from the inactive plain, sleeping like the firma- ment, with cities for stars, to the fiery peaks, which, with heaving bosoms and exulting limbs, with the clouds drifting like hair from their bright foreheads, lift up their Titan hands to heaven, saying, 'I live for- ever.' "
There is a wild legend which has given the name to this ledge. A man named Campbell was pursued by the Indians. He had taken refuge in the ravines of this mountain, where are many fine living springs, and where the thick foliage afforded a safe shelter. But the fierce Red Men are on his track. He is an old enemy, and is singled out for special torture. He knows his fate if taken. He tries every path that winds out into the deeper forest, but without success. He is hemmed in like the roe by the relentless wolves. But he does not hesitate; he springs forward to the verge of the hanging rock. One glance behind him shows him that escape is utterly hopeless. The shouts of the savages are heard as they rush upon their prey. With a scream of defiance, he leaps into the friendly arms of death.
The solemn traditions of the olden time were steal- ing around me like an enchanter's spell as I gazed down upon the plain and the river where once my kindred struggled with the dusky foe. A loud yell, as if a thousand Indian warriors were in the wood, started me to my feet; it was the whistle of the loco- motive, which told of civilization bursting through the ancient gloom.
LOSSING=BARRITT .
THE FALLING SPRING.
351
RICHARD GARDNER.
XV.
AN INTERVIEW WITH RICHARD GARDNER.
" So must thou live till, like ripe fruit, thou drop Into thy mother's lap, or be with ease Gather'd, not harshly pluck'd, for death mature: This is old age." MILTON.
WE had been told that "old Mr. Gardner, of Ex- eter," was "almost a hundred years old," and that he could give a great amount of information in relation · to Revolutionary times; that he had been a prisoner among the Indians for a long time, and had suffered untold miseries in cruel captivity. We resolved upon an early visit to the residence of the centenarian. On a beautiful morning early in June, 1857, we took the cars for Pittston, where we procured a horse and bug- gy, and proceeded through the long narrows on the east side of the Susquehanna. Passing the bold front of Campbell's Ledge, we wound our way along on the North Branch Canal, which is protected on the river- side by a sea-wall. A short distance above Campbell's Ledge a beautiful cascade comes rushing from the height, called Falling Spring. Upon the top of the mountain is a small spruce swamp, formed by never-fail- ing springs. From this swamp issues the rill which falls over the precipice, and presents the beautiful object copied in the accompanying picture. On the road-side a perpendicular wall is built to the level of the road, but there is no barrier whatever to prevent the traveler from being precipitated into the canal in case a horse should be frightened and become unmanageable.
352
WYOMING.
The road is narrow, in general not affording room for two carriages to pass. The almost perpendicular ledge of rocks has been blasted out to make room for the canal and the road. The rocky steep above frowns down upon the passenger in awful majesty. Now you find the broken fragments of trees which have been precipitated from the lofty height above, and then vast masses of rock which have been rent from their an- cient beds by the frost, tumbled down the steep, and have filled up the narrow pass, a portion of them hav- ing been removed, leaving space barely sufficient for the passage of a carriage. Often the awful visage of the mountain height seems to assume an air of pen- siveness, and weeps streams and gushing rivulets, as though in grief for the wounds and fractures inflicted upon her slopes and precipiceș, and her separation from immediate communion with her ancient friend and companion, the great and noble Susquehanna. Such havoc do modern improvements make of the sublime beauties of nature that the very rocks and hills are convulsed with agony.
We have often passed these terrible narrows, but never without a sort of terror. We can never help asking ourselves, What if some of the huge masses of rock, which seem just ready to topple from their foun- dation, should take a leap just as we are passing? In a moment we should be ground to powder. A mere pebble falling down the precipice might at any time frighten the horse of the traveler, and occasion an un- lucky leap into the canal. Either of these events are possible, and more or less probable, at any moment ; the providence of God, however, preserved us, and we made the trip in safety.
In due time we reached "Gardner's Ferry," six miles
353
RICHARD GARDNER.
above the mouth of the Lackawanna. Coming up to an ancient dwelling-one with which we were famil- iar near forty years ago-upon the stoop we saw a venerable man, much bent down, leaning upon a cane. We asked him if his name was Gardner. "Yes; but you have the advantage of me: I don't know you," was the response. After being informed of the object of our visit, he commenced conversation standing. His position seemed so uneasy that we were pained, and we suggested that perhaps he had better be seated. We were then invited into the house, and shown to a chair. Several respectable-looking females were pres- ent, who looked inquisitively as we, without farther ceremony, entered into conversation.
Mr. Gardner had never been a prisoner among the Indians. His father was made a prisoner when the Hardings were killed, as he was in the field at work with them at the time, on the west side of the river. He never returned, but, as they learned, was cruelly tortured by the savages, being burned alive.
Mrs. Alexander, from whom we received much in- formation in relation to Colonel Hollenback, has fur- nished us with the following painful tale of the last in- terview between Mr. Gardner and his afflicted compan- ion. She says :
"I will relate a fact which was told to my mother and myself by Mrs. Jenkins, the wife of Lieutenant Jenkins. She, with a Mrs. Gardner, was at Fort Jen- kins after its capitulation. The husband of Mrs. Gard- ner was a prisoner in the hands of the Tories and In- dians, and she wished much to see him once more, and asked Mrs. Jenkins to accompany her. Having con- sented and obtained leave, they went, under escort of young Wintermoot, who was a Tory, and offered to go
354
WYOMING.
with them upon the condition that they would mani- fest no surprise or sorrow at the sight they might see, telling them, at the time, that they would behold many strange and heart-rending ones.
" They therefore schooled themselves to appear in- different, and entered the camp as coolly as possible. Mrs. Gardner obtained an interview with her husband, who told her that he was well aware they would never meet again. He was lame, and knowing that if unable to keep pace with his captors when on the march they would kill him, he advised her to take their two little boys and go to Connecticut, and remain with her friends until, the troubles being over in Wyoming, it would be safe to return and live upon the farm he had purchased her, bidding her a lasting farewell. During all the time she had such possession of herself as to exhibit no outward sign of sorrow. Mrs. Jenkins also told us that the Indians were at that time busily en- gaged in burning their victims. They had thrown down an old dry pine fence, and piled upon it the dead, wounded, and some unhurt white men, added more combustible matter, and set it on fire; and that the whole line of the fence was filled with the charred bones and flesh of the poor creatures, and men still burning: an awful sight, and I do not doubt her state- ment of the facts."
Mr. Miner gives the following account of Mr. Gard- ner's captivity and death : "One taken at Exeter the first of July, when the Hardings and Hadsels were massacred, deserves our special notice. Mr. John Gard- ner was a husband and a father, a highly respectable man, against whom some unappeasable spirit of enmity is supposed to have existed. On the morning of the fourth, his wife and child were permitted to see and
Need help finding more records? Try our genealogical records directory which has more than 1 million sources to help you more easily locate the available records.