Part 16

During the long period of their union, she three times crossed the Atlantic, to visit her aged parents, and he occasionally left her for a season, when called abroad to preach. These temporary separations were felt as a cross, but the strong-hearted woman always cheerfully gave him up to follow his own convictions of duty. In 1742, he parted from her, to go on a religious visit to Tortola, in the West Indies. He died there, in the sixty-seventh year of his age. She published a religious tract of his, to which is prefixed a preface entitled "Elizabeth Estaugh's testimony concerning her beloved husband, John Estaugh." In this preface, she says, "Since it pleased Divine Providence so highly to favor me, with being the near companion of this dear worthy, I must give some small account of him. Few, if any, in a married state, ever lived in sweeter harmony than we did. He was a pattern of moderation in all things; not lifted up with any enjoyments, nor cast down at disappointments; a man endowed with many good gifts, which rendered him very agreeable to his friends, and much more to me, his wife, to whom his memory is most dear and precious."

Elizabeth survived her excellent husband twenty years, useful and honored to the last. The monthly Meeting of Haddonfield, in a published testimonial, speak of her thus: "She was endowed with great natural abilities, which, being sanctified by the spirit of Christ, were much improved; whereby she became qualified to act in the affairs of the church, and was a serviceable member, having been clerk to the women's meeting nearly fifty years, greatly to their satisfaction. She was a sincere sympathizer with the afflicted, of a benevolent disposition, and in distributing to the poor, was desirous to do it in a way most profitable and durable to them, and, if possible, not to let the right hand know what the left did. Though in a state of affluence as to this world's wealth, she was an example of plainness and moderation. Her heart and house were open to her friends, whom to entertain seemed one of her greatest pleasures. Prudently cheerful, and well knowing the value of friendship, she was careful not to wound it herself, nor to encourage others in whispering supposed failings or weaknesses. Her last illness brought great bodily pain, which she bore with much calmness of mind and sweetness of spirit. She departed this life as one falling asleep, full of days, like unto a shock of corn, fully ripe."

The town of Haddonfield, in New Jersey, took its name from her; and the tradition concerning her courtship is often repeated by some patriarch among the Quakers.

Her medical skill is so well remembered, that the old nurses of New Jersey still recommend Elizabeth Estaugh's salve as the "sovereignest thing on earth."

KATE MOORE.

From lowest place when virtuous things proceed, The place is dignified by the doer's deed.

SHAKSPEARE.

Kate Moore is the daughter of Captain Moore, keeper of the Light House on Fairweather Island, sixty miles north of the city of New York, and about half way between the harbors of Black Rock and Bridgeport, Connecticut. The island is about half a mile from shore and contains five acres of land. On that little, secluded spot Captain Moore has resided nearly a quarter of a century, and has reared a family of five children, of whom Kate is the heroine.

Disasters frequently occur to vessels which are driven round Montauk Point, and sometimes in the Sound, when they are homeward bound; and at such times she is always on the alert. She has so thoroughly cultivated the sense of hearing, that she can distinguish amid the howling storm, the shrieks of the drowning mariners, and thus direct a boat, which she has learned to manage most dexterously, in the darkest night, to the spot where a fellow mortal is perishing Though well educated and refined, she possesses none of the affected delicacy which characterizes too many town-bred misses; but, adapting herself to the peculiar exigences of her father's humble yet honorable calling, she is ever ready to lend a helping hand, and shrinks from no danger, if duty points that way. In the gloom and terror of the stormy night, amid perils at all hours of the day, and all seasons of the year, she has launched her barque on the threatening waves; and has assisted her aged and feeble father in saving the lives of twenty-one persons during the last fifteen years! Such conduct, like that of Grace Darling, to whom Kate Moore has been justly compared, needs no comment; it stamps its moral at once and indelibly upon the heart of every reader.

CAPTIVITY OF MRS. ROWLANDSON.

Through sorrowing and suffering thou hast pass'd, To show us what a woman true may be.

LOWELL.

Mrs. Mary Rowlandson, the wife of the Rev. Joseph Rowlandson, was taken prisoner by the Indians at Lancaster, Massachusetts, on the tenth of February, 1676, and remained in captivity till the third of the following May. The details of her sufferings, as related by herself, are too painful for many persons to read; but she bore them with such Christian fortitude, that nothing short of a brief account of her captivity would seem to be excusable in a work like this.

The day after the destruction of Lancaster, the Indians began their march; and Mrs. Rowlandson carried her infant till her strength failed and she fell. She was then furnished with a horse, without a saddle. Attempting to ride, she again fell. Towards night it began to snow; and gathering a few sticks, she made a fire. Sitting beside it on the snow, she held her child in her arms through the long and dismal night. For three or four days she had no sustenance but water; nor did her child share any better for nine days. During this time it was constantly in her arms or lap. At the end of that period, the frost of death crept into its eyes, and she was forced to relinquish it to be disposed of by the unfeeling sextons of the forest.

After its burial, Mrs. Rowlandson was sold by her Narraganset captor to a Sagamore named Quanopin, by which transfer she found in her new master's wife "a most uncomfortable mistress." Soon afterwards the Indians went on an expedition to Medfield, and on their return one of them gave her a Bible--her best friend and great support during her sufferings and trials. She retained it during her captivity.

The party of Indians with whom she continued, remained for some time near Petersham, in Worcester county. At length, hearing a report that the pale faces were in pursuit of them, they hastily decamped and continued their march till they crossed the Connecticut river, in the neighborhood of Gill or Bernardston. There Mrs. Rowlandson came in contact with the great chief, Philip, who treated her civilly and even politely. Ere long the Indians re-crossed the Connecticut, and returned into Worcester county. During this part of her pilgrimage, writes President Dwight, whose concise narrative we have followed, "Mrs. Rowlandson went through almost every suffering but death. She was beaten, kicked, turned out of doors, refused food, insulted in the grossest manner, and at times almost starved. Nothing but experience can enable us to conceive what must be the hunger of a person, by whom the discovery of six acorns, and two chestnuts, was regarded as a rich prize. At times, in order to make her miserable, they announced to her the death of her husband and her children. One of the savages, of whom she enquired concerning her son, told her that his master had, at a time which he specified, killed and roasted him; that himself had eaten a piece of him, as big as his two fingers, and that it was delicious meat. On various occasions they threatened to kill her. Occasionally, but for short intervals only, she was permitted to see her children; and suffered her own anguish over again in their miseries. She was also obliged, while hardly able to walk, to carry a heavy burden over hills, and through rivers, swamps, and marshes; and that in the most inclement seasons. These evils were repeated daily; and, to crown them all, she was daily saluted with the most barbarous and insolent accounts of the burning and slaughter, the tortures and agonies, inflicted by them upon her countrymen. It is to be remembered that Mrs. Rowlandson was tenderly and delicately educated, and as ill fitted to encounter these distresses as persons who have received such an education, now are in this and other countries.

"There was, however, among the savages a marked difference of character. Some of them, both men and women, treated her with kindness. None of them exhibited so much insolence to her as her mistress. This woman felt all the haughtiness of rank, as much as if she had been a European or Asiatic princess; and spent almost as much time in powdering her hair, painting her face, and adorning herself with ear-rings, bracelets, and other ornaments, a part of their plunder from the English."

The captivity of Mrs. Rowlandson was terminated through the agency of Mr. Hoar, of Concord, Massachusetts. Under a commission from the Government he redeemed her for about eighty dollars, which sum was contributed by a Mr. Usher and some female friends in Boston.

MRS. BOZARTH.

To weakness strength succeeds, and power From frailty springs.

PARK BENJAMIN.

There's no impossibility to him Who stands prepared to conquer every hazard.

MRS. HALE.

In the spring of 1779, while two or three neighboring families, had, from fear, collected at the house of Mrs. Bozarth, in Green county, Pennsylvania, the little company was one day attacked by Indians. The children, who were playing without, first discovered the foe, and, giving the alarm, had not time to get within doors before they were overtaken, and began to fall beneath the tomahawk. The first man who stepped to the door when the alarm was heard, was shot, and fell back; and before the door could be closed, an Indian leaped over him into the house. The other man in the house caught the savage and threw him on the bed. He then called for a knife, but Mrs. Bozarth, being unable to find one, seized an axe and instantly dispatched the bold assailant. Another Indian now rushed in, and shot at and wounded the man before he was off the bed. Mrs. Bozarth gave this second intruder several blows, when his cries brought a third to the door. Him she killed as he entered. The wounded savage was then dragged out; the door again closed and fastened; and, through the assistance of the wounded man, Mrs. Bozarth was able to keep out the rest of the murderous assailants until relieved by the arrival of friends.

THE HEROINE OF STEEL CREEK

Here and there some stern, high patriot stood.

BYRON.

The subject of the following anecdote was the mother of eleven sons. Most of them were soldiers and some were officers in the war of the Revolution. Her residence was in Mechlenburg county, near Steel creek, North Carolina.

When Lord Cornwallis heard of the defeat of Ferguson at King's Mountain,[52] fearing an attack of his rear at Camden, he collected his forces and retreated towards Winnsboro. While on this march, his whole army halted for the night on the plantation of Robert Wilson. Cornwallis and his staff took possession of the house, and made an unstinted levy on the hospitality of the good lady. By asking such questions as a British lord would, under the circumstances, feel at liberty to propound, the General learned, in the course of the evening, that the husband of Mrs. Wilson, and some of her sons, were then his prisoners in Camden jail. Her kindness and urbanity led him to think that perhaps she was a friend to the Crown; and, after some preliminary remarks, intended to prepare her mind for the leading consideration which he wished to enforce upon it, he at length addressed her as follows:

[52] October seventh, 1780.

"Madam, your husband and your son are my prisoners; the fortune of war may soon place others of your sons--perhaps all your kinsmen, in my power. Your sons are young, aspiring and brave. In a good cause, fighting for a generous and powerful king, such as George III, they might hope for rank, honor and wealth. If you could but induce your husband and sons to leave the rebels, and take up arms for their lawful sovereign, I would almost pledge myself that they shall have rank and consideration in the British army. If you, madam, will pledge yourself to induce them to do so, I will immediately order their discharge."

"I have seven sons," Mrs. Wilson replied, "who are now, or have been, bearing arms--indeed my seventh son, Zaccheus, who is only fifteen years old, I yesterday assisted to get ready to go and join his brothers in Sumter's army. Now, sooner than see one of my family turn back from the glorious enterprise, I would take these boys--pointing to three or four small sons--and with them would myself enlist, under Sumter's standard, and show my husband and sons how to fight, and, if necessary, to die for their country!"

Colonel Tarleton was one of the listeners to this colloquy, and when Mrs. Wilson had finished her reply, he said to Cornwallis: "Ah! General! I think you've got into a hornet's nest! Never mind, when we get to Camden, I'll take good care that old Robin Wilson never comes back again!" We may add that Tarleton's threat was never executed. Mr. Wilson and his worthy companion lived to old age, and died at Steel creek just before the war of 1812.

BENEVOLENCE OF A COLORED WOMAN.

Great minds, like Heaven, are pleased in doing good.

ROWE.

The following anecdote is obtained from a reliable source. Did the spirit which pervaded the heart of its subject, thoroughly permeate the churches, the great work of carrying the Gospel to every nation, would soon be accomplished.

"In one of the eastern counties of New York lived a colored female, who was born a slave, but she was made free by the act gradually abolishing slavery in that state. She had no resources except such as she obtained by her own labor. On one occasion she carried to her pastor _forty dollars_: she told him that she wished him, with two dollars of this sum to procure for her a seat in his church; eighteen dollars she desired to be given to the American Board; and the remaining twenty dollars she requested him to divide among other benevolent societies according to his discretion."

REBECCA EDWARDS.

Honor being then above life, dishonor must Be worse than death; for fate can strike but one. Reproach doth reach whole families.

CARTWRIGHT'S SIEGE.

At the celebration of our national Independence, in 1797, the orator of the society of the Cincinnati of South Carolina, paid the following tribute to the magnanimity of Mrs. Rebecca Edwards:--"The Spartan mother, on delivering his shield to her son departing for the army, nobly bade him 'return with it or on it.' The sentiment was highly patriotic, but surely not superior to that which animated the bosom of the distinguished female of our own state, who, when the British officer presented the mandate which arrested her sons as objects of retaliation, less sensible of private affection than attached to her honor and the interest of her country, stifled the tender feelings of the mother, and heroically bade them despise the threats of their enemies, and steadfastly persist to support the glorious cause in which they had engaged--that if the threatened sacrifice should follow, they would carry a parent's blessing, and the good opinion of every virtuous citizen along with them to the grave: but if from the frailty of human nature--of the possibility of which she would not suffer an idea to enter her mind--they were disposed to temporize, and exchange their liberty for safety, they must forget her as a mother, nor subject her to the misery of ever beholding them again."[53]

[53] American Anecdotes, vol. 2, p. 11.

"THE BEAUTIFUL REBEL."

Trembling and fear Are to her unknown.

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

The maiden name of Mrs. Lewis Morris was Ann Elliott. She was born at Maccabee, in 1762, and died in New York, in 1848. She was a firm and fearless patriot, and when the city of Charleston, South Carolina, was in possession of the red coats, she wore thirteen small plumes in her bonnet. She had so fair a face, so graceful a form and so patriotic a spirit, as to be called "the beautiful rebel." An English officer fell in love with her and offered to join the Americans, if she would favor his proposals. She ordered the friend who interceded for him to say to him, "that to her former want of esteem, was added scorn for a man capable of betraying his sovereign for selfish interest."

While she was engaged to Colonel Morris and he was on a visit one time at Maccabee, the house was suddenly surrounded by Black Dragoons. They were in pursuit of the Colonel, and it was impossible for him to escape by flight. What to do he knew not, but, quick as thought, she ran to the window, opened it, and, fearlessly putting her head out, in a composed yet firm manner, demanded what was wanted. The reply was, "We want the ---- rebel." "Then go," said she, "and look for him in the American army," adding "How dare you disturb a family under the protection of both armies!" She was so cool, self-possessed, firm and resolute as to triumph over the dragoons, who left without entering the house.

HARRIET B. STEWART.

Men sacrifice others--women themselves.

MRS. S. C. HALL.

Harriet Bradford Tiffany, afterwards the wife of the Rev. Charles S. Stewart, was born near Stamford, Connecticut, on the fourth of June, 1798. She lost her father when she was a small child, and till 1815, passed most of her time with an uncle, in Albany. At this date, an older sister married and settled in Cooperstown, and consequently Harriet took up her abode in that place. She became the subject of renewing grace in the summer of 1819; was married on the third of June, 1822, and sailed with her husband and nearly thirty other missionaries, all bound to the same field, on the nineteenth of November following. This little, heroic band, that, by the help of God, have since been mainly instrumental in making the Sandwich islands blossom like a rose, arrived at Honolulu, in Oahu, on the twenty-seventh of April, 1823.

Mrs. Stewart left a beautiful town in a thriving part of the Empire State; tempting luxuries; a brilliant circle, and many endearing friends; but she had embarked in a glorious enterprise for Christ's sake, and, hence, she settled down in a little log hut, in the town of Lahaiua, three days' sail from Oahu, contented and happy. On the first day of January, 1824, she wrote as follows: "It is now fifteen months since I bade adieu to the dear valley which contains much, very much, that is most dear to me; but since the day I parted from it, my spirits have been uniformly good. Sometimes, it is true, a cloud of tender recollections passes over me, obscuring, for a moment, my mental vision, and threatening a day of darkness; but it is seldom. And as the returning sun, after a summer shower, spreads his beams over the retiring gloom of the heavens, and stretches abroad the shining arch of promise to cheer the face of nature, so, at such times, do the rays of the Sun of Righteousness speedily illumine the hopes of my soul, and fill my bosom with joy and peace."

A few months after the above date, writing to a friend, she says: "We are most contented and most happy, and rejoice that God has seen fit to honor and bless us by permitting us to be the bearers of his light and truth to this dark corner of the earth. Could you feel the same gladness that often fills our bosoms, in witnessing the happy influence of the Gospel on the minds and hearts of many of these interesting creatures, you would be satisfied, yes more than satisfied, that we should be _what we are, and where we are, poor missionaries in the distant islands of the sea_."

In these brief extracts from her letters, shines, in its serenest lustre, the character of the Christian heroine:[54] and it would be an easy task to compile a volume of letters written on the field of moral conflict by American female missionaries, breathing a spirit equally as unselfish, cheerful and brave. All pioneer women in this enterprise are heroines, and if the conflicts and sublime victories of all claiming American citizenship, are not herein recorded, it is because, in a work of unambitious pretensions as it regards size, a few characters must stand as representatives of a class.

[54] For a full account of the life of Mrs. Stewart, we refer the reader to an interesting Memoir, by her husband.

So pernicious was the influence of a tropical climate that, in the spring of 1825, the health of Mrs. Stewart began to fail; and at the end of a year, she was forced to leave the country. She sailed, with her husband, for London; and after tarrying three months in England, they embarked for home. They reached the valley of the Otsego in September, 1826. For three or four years, it was the prayer of Mrs. Stewart that she might be restored to health and permitted to return to the mission station; but in January, 1830, she was laid on a bed of declension and suffering, and in the following autumn, fully ripe, was gathered into the heavenly garner.

A KIND AND BENEVOLENT WOMAN.

Ah! woman--in this world of ours, What gift can be compared to thee.

GEORGE P. MORRIS.

Mrs. Margaret Morris, of Burlington, New Jersey, kept a journal during the Revolution, for the amusement, it is said, of a sister, the wife of Dr. Charles Moore, of Philadelphia. A few copies were printed several years ago, for private circulation, supplying friends with a mirror which reflects the image of expanded benevolence and exalted piety. Belonging to the Society of Friends, she was not partial to

"The shot, the shout, the groan of war;"

yet her principles were patriotic, and she no doubt rejoiced over all the victories and in the final and complete success of the "rebel" army. She became a widow at an early age, and died at Burlington, in 1816, aged seventy-nine years.

A single extract from her journal will illustrate the most prominent feature of her character:

"June 14th, 1777. By a person from Bordentown, we hear twelve expresses came in there to-day from camp. Some of the gondola-men and their wives being sick, and no doctor in town to apply to, they were told Mrs. Morris was a skillful woman, and kept medicines to give to the poor; and notwithstanding their late attempts to shoot my poor boy, they ventured to come to me, and in a very humble manner begged me to come and do something for them. At first I thought they designed to put a trick on me, get me aboard their gondola, and then pillage my house, as they had done some others; but on asking where the sick folks were, I was told they were lodged in the Governor's house. So I went to see them; there were several, both men and women, very ill with fever; some said, the camp or putrid fever. They were broken out in blotches; and on close examination, it appeared to be the itch fever. I treated them according to art, and they all got well. I thought I had received all my pay when they thankfully acknowledged my kindness; but lo! in a short time afterwards a very rough, ill-looking man came to the door and asked for me. When I went to him he drew me aside, and asked if I had any friends in Philadelphia. The question alarmed me, supposing there was some mischief meditated against that poor city; however, I calmly said--'I have an ancient father, some sisters, and other near friends there.'

"'Well,' said the man, 'do you wish to hear from them, or send any thing by way of refreshment to them? If you do, I will take charge of it, and bring you back any thing you may send for.'