Whatever the offense, McGirth was placed under arrest, tried by a court-martial, found guilty of violating the articles of war, and sentenced to be whipped. He received this punishment, and was placed in confinement again, where he was to remain until he received another whipping. While thus held, he saw his mare picketed near the camp, and he immediately resolved to escape. He was successful in this. Once free, he secured The Gray Goose, leaped into the saddle, turned around, and, in the face of his pursuers, pronounced threats of vengeance against all the Americans for his ill treatment.

There is no doubt that he was illtreated; but if he had not been an ignorant man, he would not have pronounced against the cause of liberty on account of the treatment he received at the hands of individuals. But the savage in his nature was aroused, and he carried out his fierce threats to the fullest extent. For the time being, he attached himself to another American command; but at the first opportunity he deserted to the enemy, and became the scourge and terror of those who opposed the British cause. He spared none. His field extended from the Florida line to the Savannah River, in what is now Elbert County, and far into South Carolina. He appeared when least expected, and carried destruction with him. His mare became as noted as her master. In what was then Upper Georgia, she was known as "The Bald-faced Pony." On many an occasion he owed his life to the fleetness of his mare. But his vengeance was never satisfied: it was always active, and thirsting for the blood of the American patriot. The whim of the officer to possess McGirth's mare was a foolish one at best. It was the cause of great public and private suffering.



When South Carolina was rescued from the British, McGirth retreated into Georgia, and finally into Florida. When the Spaniards regained possession of that territory, he became subject to their laws. For some reason or other he was thrown into one of the dungeons of the old fort at St. Augustine, where he was confined for five years. When released, his health was broken, and it was with great difficulty that he managed to return to Sumter District, in South Carolina, where his wife lived.

A very queer and eccentric character in the Revolution was Captain Rory Mcintosh, of Mallow. Though Rory was a kinsman of General Lachlan and Colonel John Mcintosh, who were among the most active Liberty Boys in Georgia, he took up arms for the King, and a very devoted Tory he was. His eccentricities would have been called whims if he had not stuck to them with such constancy. He was a Highlander and a follower of the Stuarts. How and why he became loyal to the new line of British kings, history does not state; but his clan had a chief, and he no doubt thought that every government ought to have a monarch. When the Revolution began, he was over sixty years of age, and was living comfortably on his plantation at Mallow; but he volunteered, and fought through the war.

A story is told of Rory Mcintosh that once when the Spaniards held East Florida, he carried to St Augustine a drove of cattle. He received payment in dollars, which he placed in a canvas bag behind him on his horse. When near his home, the bag gave way, and a part of the money fell out. He secured what was left and rode on, paying no attention to that which had fallen from the bag. When in need of money some years after, he returned to the place where the dollars had spilled, picked up as many as he wanted, and went back home. Whenever he could, he went about accompanied by a piper. Rory was a tall, finely formed man,'with bristling whiskers and a ruddy complexion: consequently when he appeared on parade, he attracted great attention.



In 1778 two expeditions were sent from St. Augustine for the purpose of attacking Savannah,—one by sea, and one by land under command of Lieutenant Colonel Prevost. This land expedition had been joined by Captain Roderick Mcintosh, in the capacity of a volunteer. He attached himself particularly to the infantry company commanded by Captain Murray. When the British laid siege to Sunbury and the fort, Captain Murray's company was in the line near the fort. One morning when Captain Rory had had a dram too much, he determined to sally out and summon the fort to surrender. His comrades tried to restrain him, but he was determined. Finally he strutted out, a drawn claymore in his hand, with his trusty slave Jim. He approached the fort and cried out,—

"Surrender, you miscreants! How dare you presume to resist his Majesty's arms?"

Colonel Mcintosh, who commanded the fort, saw at once the condition of Captain Rory, and forbade the men to fire. Then he threw open the gate, and said,—

"Walk in, Mr. Mcintosh, and take possession."

"No," cried Rory, "I'll not trust myself among such vermin. I order you to surrender!"

At that moment a rifle was fired by some one in the fort, and the ball passed through Captain Rory's face from side to side under the eyes. He fell backwards, but immediately recovered, and stood on his feet flourishing his claymore. Then he began to walk backward, his face to the fort. Several shots were fired at him, and Jim called out,—

"Run, massa, run! dey kill you!"

"Run!" cried Rory scornfully. "You may run, but I belong to a race that never runs!"

It was at the siege of Sunbury that Colonel Mcintosh, when summoned by Colonel Prevost to surrender the fort, sent back the reply, "Come and take it!"



AUNT NANCY HART.

There lived in Georgia, during the Revolutionary struggle, the most remarkable woman in some respects that the country has produced. To find her match, we shall have to go to the fables that are told about the Amazons. The Liberty Boys called her Aunt Nancy Hart. The Indians, struck by her wonderful feats in behalf of her country, called her "The War Woman;" and there is a creek in Elbert County, where she lived, that was named by the Indians "War Woman's Creek."

There are other heroines to whom history has paid more attention, and whose deeds have been celebrated in song and story; but not one of them was more devoted to the high cause of freedom, or more courageous, or depended less on aid from others, than Aunt Nancy Hart. In this last respect, the War Woman of Georgia stands alone in history, just as she stood alone when the Tories were waging a war of extermination, sparing neither women nor children, in the region in which she lived. Invention and fable have kindly come to the aid of the most famous of the world's heroines, but neither fable nor invention has touched the character or the deeds of this heroine of the Revolution. She stands out on the pages of history rough, uncouth, hot-tempered, unmanageable, uneducated, impolite, ugly, and sharp-tongued; but, as her friends said of her, "What a honey of a patriot she was!" She loved the Liberty Boys as well as she loved her own children. It has been said that she was cruel; but this charge may as well be put out of sight. Before passing upon it, we should have to know what the War Woman's eyes had seen, and what terrible revelations her ears had heard. Standing for American independence in a region that swarmed with Tories, whose murderous deeds never have been and never will be fully set forth, Aunt Nancy Hart had to defend her own hearthstone and her own children.

The maiden name of this remarkable woman was Morgan, and she was born in North Carolina. She married Benjamin Hart, a brother of Colonel Thomas Hart of Kentucky. Thomas Hart was the father of the wife of Henry Clay, and the uncle of the celebrated Thomas Hart Benton. Aunt Nancy and her husband moved to Georgia with the North Carolina emigrants, and settled on Broad River, in what is now Elbert County. She was nearly six feet high, and very muscular,—the result of hard work. She had red hair, and it is said that she was cross-eyed, but this has been denied on good authority. It matters little. Her eyes were keen enough to pierce through all Tory disguises, and that was enough for her. It is certain that her courage and her confidence kept alive the spark of liberty in hearts that would otherwise have smothered it, and was largely responsible for kindling it into the flame that finally swept the British out of that section, and subdued the Tories. When the Whigs and patriots who had been her neighbors were compelled to flee before the murderous Tories, she refused to go with them, but stood her ground and never ceased to speak her sentiments boldly. Nothing but the wholesome dread with which she had inspired them prevented the Tories from murdering her and her children. When General Elijah Clarke moved the women and children of the Broad River region to an asylum in Kentucky, and the Liberty Boys had taken refuge in South Carolina, Aunt Nancy Hart remained at home, and for a long and dismal period she was unprotected save by her own remarkable courage.

At that period the houses were built of logs, and the chimneys were built of sticks plastered with clay. They were called "stack chimneys." One evening Aunt Nancy and her children were sitting around the fire, on which a pot of soap was boiling. Now, a pot of soap must be constantly stirred, and for this the strong, muscular arms of Aunt Nancy were peculiarly fitted. So she stirred the soap, and, as she stirred, told the youngsters the latest news of the war. Presently one of her children chanced to discover some one peeping through the crack of the chimney, eavesdropping. By a gesture or a nod of the head Aunt Nancy was informed of what was going on. She smiled, and grew more spirited in her talk, rattling away and laughing as she gave exaggerated accounts of the recent defeats of the Tories. As she talked, she stirred the bubbling soap, and kept her keen eyes on the crack where the eavesdropper had been seen. Suddenly she dashed a ladleful of boiling soap through the crack full into the face of the intruder. It was so quickly and deftly done, that the eavesdropper had no time to dodge the scalding stuff. He received the full benefit of it Blinded and half crazed by the pain, he howled and screamed at a tremendous rate. Aunt Nancy went out, and, after amusing herself at his expense, bound him fast and held him prisoner. The probability is that the next day she H tucked up her petticoats, shouldered her gun, and compelled the unlucky Tory to ford the river ahead of her; and that, once on the other side, she kept in constant communication with the Clarkes and with other partisans of the American cause.



Her husband, whom she sometimes jokingly described as "a poor stick," assisted her in her communications. A conch shell was kept at the spring, some distance from the house. On this conch shell the children were taught to blow the blasts that gave Mr. Hart information. One signal was, "The enemy is at hand;" another was, "Keep close;" another, "Make tracks for the swamp;" and still another was that he and his friends were wanted at the cabin.

At the very darkest hour of the Revolution in Georgia, Aunt Nancy performed one of her most remarkable feats,—one that brought into play all the courage and devotion of her strong nature, and all the tact and audacity that belonged to her character.

Brigadier General Andrew Williamson, with three hundred men, was encamped near Augusta. When Charleston fell, this officer, who was already a traitor, though his treachery had not been avowed, called his officers together, and expressed the opinion that it would be foolish to further resist the King. He therefore advised them to return to their homes, and there accept the protection which would be offered them. He then abandoned his command, which was immediately disbanded. Shortly afterwards Colonels Brown and Garrison, two partisans of the King's army who had made themselves notorious by their cruelty to Americans, seized Augusta. Brown had been tarred and feathered in Augusta just before the breaking-out of the Revolution, and he made the patriots of that town and of the country roundabout pay dearly for the indignities that had been heaped upon him on account of his loyalty to the Crown. He confiscated the property of the patriots, and issued an order banishing all Whig families beyond the borders of Georgia.

Raiding parties were sent into the region in the neighborhood of Augusta to compel the inhabitants to take the oath of allegiance to the King. One of these parties entered the house of Colonel John Dooly, a gallant officer, and murdered him in cold blood in the presence of his wife and children. Colonel Dooly was the father of Judge Dooly, who became famous in Georgia after the war.

A detachment of this murdering party found its way to Aunt Nancy Hart's cabin. There were five Tories in the detachment, and Aunt Nancy received them coldly enough. They told her they had come to inquire into the truth of a report they had heard to the effect that she had aided a well-known rebel to escape from a company of King's men by whom he was pursued. With a twinkle of malice in her eyes, Aunt Nancy boldly declared that she had aided her Liberty Boy to escape, and then she described the affair.

She said that one day she heard the gallop of a horse. Looking out, she saw a horseman approaching, and at once knew him to be a Whig flying from pursuers. She let down the bars near her cabin, told him to ride his horse right through her house, in at the front door and out at the back, to take to the swamp, and hide himself the best he could. She then put up the bars, entered her house, closed the doors, and went about her business. In a little while a party of Tories rode up, and called to her with some rudeness. She muffled her head and face in a shawl, opened the door slowly, and asked in a feeble voice who it was that wanted to pester a sick, lone woman. The Tories said they had been pursuing a man, and had traced him near her house. They wanted to know if any one had passed that way. "I told 'em," said Aunt Nancy to the listening Tories, "that I had seen a man on a sorrel horse turn out of the road into the woods a little ways back. So they went back and took to the woods, and my Whig boy got off safe and sound."

Naturally this story, boldly told, did not please the five Tories who heard it; but something in the War Woman's eye prevented them from offering her any personal injury. Instead, they ordered her to give them something to eat.

"I never feed King's men if I can help it," she replied. "The scamps have fixed me so that I can't feed my own family in a decent manner. They have run off with all my pigs and poultry except that old gobbler you see in the yard there."

"Well, you shall cook the old gobbler for us," exclaimed one who seemed to be the leader of the party. Suiting the action to the word, he raised his musket and shot the gobbler. One of his men brought it into the house and gave it to Aunt Nancy, with orders to clean and cook it at once. This, of course, made that stanch patriot very angry, and she gave the Tories a violent tongue lashing.

It is probable that while she was dressing the turkey for the pot, the Tories let some hint drop about the outrageous murder of Colonel John Dooly, who was a warm friend of Aunt Nancy's. At any rate, she suddenly changed her tactics. She ceased to storm and quarrel, the scowl left her face, and she soon seemed to be in high good humor. She went about getting the meal ready with great good will. She sent her little girl to the spring after water, but told her to sound on the conch shell the signal to "keep close," so that her husband and his neighbors who were with him might know there were Tories in the cabin.

While the daughter was gone after water, one of the Tories volunteered to take her place in helping to get everything ready. Aunt Nancy accepted his services, and joked with him with great freedom and familiarity. Like all women of spirit and independence, Aunt Nancy possessed a considerable fund of humor, and it stood her in good stead now. She contrived to thoroughly interest the Tories, and it was not long before they were in the most jovial frame of mind imaginable. They had expected to find a bad-tempered, ill-conditioned woman; and they were agreeably surprised when they found, instead, a woman who could match their rude jests, and make herself thoroughly entertaining.

The Tories had brought a jug with them, and they were so pleased with Aunt Nancy's seeming friendliness that they invited her to drink with them. "I'll take one swig with you," said Aunt Nancy, "if it kills every cow on the Island," meaning a neck of land at the junction of river and creek where the Whig families of the neighborhood pastured their cattle and hid them. The Tories laughed and drank, and then they laughed and drank again. They kept this up until the old gobbler had been cooked to Aunt Nancy's satisfaction; and by the time they were ready to sit down to table they were in a very merry mood indeed.

They had stacked their arms within easy reach of where they had been sitting and drinking; but Aunt Nancy had moved her table to the middle of the floor, so as to be able to walk around it on all sides while waiting on the Tories. In helping the men to the turkey and other eatables that she had prepared, she frequently came between them and their muskets. The Tories had hardly begun to eat before they called for water. Aunt Nancy, expecting this, had used up in cooking all that had been brought: consequently her daughter had to take the piggin and go to the spring after a fresh supply. She went with instructions to signal her father, and the neighbors who were with him, to come immediately to the cabin. While her daughter was at the spring, Aunt Nancy managed to pull off one of the boards that filled the space between the logs of the house, and through this crack she slipped two of the muskets. She was slipping the third through when her movements caught the eye of one of the Tories. Instantly the men sprang to their feet, but Aunt Nancy was now in her element. Quick as a flash she clapped the musket to her shoulder, and threatened to shoot the first man that approached her. The men, knowing her reputation as a fighter, and awed by her appearance, hesitated. At last one bolder than the rest began to advance toward her. She fired promptly, and at the report of the gun the man fell dead on the floor.

Before the others could recover from their consternation, Aunt Nancy had seized another musket, and held it in readiness to fire again. Her daughter had now returned from the spring with the information that her father and his neighbors would soon arrive. Directed by her mother, the girl took the remaining musket and carried it out of the house. The Tories, seeing that no time was to be lost in recovering their arms, proposed to rush upon Aunt Nancy in a body and overpower her. But the War Woman was equal to the occasion. She fired again, and brought down another Tory. As she did so, the daughter, acting on her orders, handed her another musket. Then, taking position in the doorway, she called on the men to "surrender their ugly Tory carcasses to a Whig woman."



The Tories agreed to surrender, and wanted to shake hands to make the bargain binding; but Aunt Nancy kept her position in the doorway until her husband and his friends made their appearance. The Whigs wanted to shoot the Tories; but Aunt Nancy, whose blood was up, declared that shooting was too good for them. "They've murdered John Dooly," she exclaimed; "now let them hang for it!" Thereupon the Tories were taken out and hanged. The tree from which they swung was still standing as late as 1838, and was often pointed out by old people who had lived through the troubled times of the Revolution.

One day Aunt Nancy met a Tory going along the highway. She engaged him in conversation, diverted his attention, and suddenly seized his gun and wrenched it away from him. She then ordered him to take up the line of march for a fort not far distant. Not daring to disobey, the man marched before her, as many others had been compelled to do, and she turned him over to the commander of the fort.

When Augusta was in the hands of the British, and their raiding parties had been driven in by the Americans under Colonel Elijah Clarke, it became necessary for that commander to get some positive information in regard to the intentions of the British. At this juncture Aunt Nancy came to the rescue. She disguised herself as a man, and went boldly into the British camp. She remained there for several days, pretending to be crazy. In this way she secured a great deal of important information, and made haste to carry it to Colonel Clarke.

Aunt Nancy was once left in a fort with several other women and a number of small children, her own among the rest. The men had gone out in search of supplies. They had not expected an attack, and had left only one of their number, a young man, to protect the women and children. Suddenly a party of Tories and Indians made its appearance, and surrounded the fort, which was nothing more than a stockade. The yelling of the savages threw all the women and children into the utmost confusion,—all except Aunt Nancy. That wonderful woman, who never knew what fear was, only became more energetic in the face of danger. There was a small cannon in the fort, but it was not in position to reach the enemy with its fire. After trying her best to lift the cannon into position, Aunt Nancy remembered the young man who had been left in the fort, and looked about for him; but he was not to be seen. A close search discovered him hiding under a cowhide. Aunt Nancy pulled him out by the heels, and vowed she would make mince-meat of him unless he helped her to move the cannon. The fellow knew perfectly well that Aunt Nancy was not to be trifled with when her blood was up. He gave her the necessary assistance. She aimed the cannon and fired it, and the Tories and savages promptly took to their heels.

On another occasion when the river was high, it became necessary for the Americans on the Georgia side to know what was going on on the Carolina side; but no one could be induced to venture across. Hearing of the difficulty, Aunt Nancy promptly undertook to go.

The freshet had swept away all the boats, but to Aunt Nancy this was a trifling matter. She found a few logs, tied them together with grapevines, and on this raft made the voyage across the river. She gathered the necessary information, and made haste to communicate it to the Georgia troops.

Aunt Nancy was the mother of eight children,—six sons and two daughters. Her eldest daughter, Sally, married a man named Thompson, who was as quicktempered as his mother-in-law. After the war, Aunt Nancy moved to Brunswick. Sally and her husband followed a year or two later. In passing through Burke County, they camped for the night by the roadside. The next morning Thompson ordered a white man, who had been hired as a teamster, to perform some duty. Thompson's tone was so peremptory that the man returned an insolent answer, and refused. In a fit of rage, Thompson drew his sword, and severed the man's head from his body with one swinging stroke. He then drove the team himself until he came to the first house, where he gave information that he had cut off a fellow's head at the camp down the road, and that they "had best go and bury him." He then drove on, but was overtaken, arrested, and lodged in jail at Waynesboro. As soon as Aunt Nancy heard of the trouble, she made her appearance in the upcountry again. Within a few days after her return, the jail was found open one morning, and Thompson was gone. Speaking of this afterwards, Aunt Nancy was heard to exclaim,—

"Drat 'em! that's the way with 'em all. When they get into trouble, they always send for me!"

Not long after this episode, Mr. Benjamin Hart died. Aunt Nancy mourned his loss for a while, and then married a young man. Then, as the saying is, she "pulled up stakes," and moved to what is now the State of Alabama, on the Tombigbee. There she had the French and the Spaniards for neighbors, and she felt at home with neither race. She was bluntly, emphatically, and unaffectedly American. To add to her troubles, a big rain flooded the river, destroyed her crops, and surrounded her house. This, with the French and Spaniards, was too much for her. She returned to Georgia, but, finding her old home occupied by others, she settled in Edgefield, S.C.

A Methodist society was formed in her neighborhood, and its influence became so active that Aunt Nancy's conscience began to trouble her. She listened to the preaching of the Word from a distance until she became worried about her future state. She went to the meetinghouse, but found the door closed against intruders. The deacon and members were holding a class meeting. The closed door was no obstacle to Aunt Nancy. She cut the fastening and walked in without ceremony. Once in, she found what she wanted. She became an enthusiastic Methodist, and is said to have fought Satan and sin as manfully as she fought the Tories and the British.

When Governor George R. Gilmer of Georgia was in Congress, in 1828-29, the members were very anxious to attract the notice of General Jackson, who had been elected President. A proposal was made to fill the vacant niches in the rotunda with paintings descriptive of the battle of New Orleans and the general's other victories. Governor Gilmer offered as an amendment a resolution to fill one of the niches with a painting of Aunt Nancy Hart wading Broad River, her petticoats held up with one hand, a musket in the other, and driving three Tories before her, to deliver them up to Colonel Elijah Clarke.

Governor Gilmer's proposition was a more sensible one than he intended it to be. Georgia has perpetuated Aunt Nancy's name by calling a county after her; but the Republic owes something to her memory.



TWO SOLDIERS OF THE REVOLUTION.

The pen of the historian is not always as impartial as it should be. It has its spites and prejudices; and it frequently happens that the men who wield the pen with which history is written, have their whims, their likes, and their dislikes. It is certain that two of the hardest fighters in the War for Independence—two of the most distinguished officers that Georgia gave to the cause—have had tardy justice done to their valor. The names of these men are General James Jackson and General Elijah Clarke. The independence and the individuality of these men stand clearly out in all the records that we have of them, and it is no doubt true that these qualities made them to some degree unpopular with those who inspired the early chroniclers of the Revolution in the South. Neither of these officers was capable of currying favor with his superiors, or of doing injustice to the humblest of his comrades. They were not seekers after the bubble reputation, but had their minds and all their energies bent on liberating Georgia and her sister Colonies.

General James Jackson was born in the county of Devon, England. He came to this country in 1772, landing at Savannah penniless and almost friendless. He began the study of law; but when the Liberty Boys began their movement for resisting British oppression, he placed his books on their shelves, and gave himself entirely to the cause of the people. When only nineteen years old, he was one of the volunteers that fired the British armed vessels sent to attack Savannah by water, while Major Maitland and Major Grant attacked it by land. The crews of these vessels were compelled to escape without their clothes and arms. General Jackson served in the lower part of Georgia until the fall of Savannah in 1778, when he and his friend John Milledge made their way to the patriot troops, commanded by General Moultrie. Such was the condition of these men, both of whom afterwards became governors of Georgia, that they were compelled to make the greater part of their journey barefoot and in rags. Their appearance was so much against them that they were arrested as spies by some American soldiers, and would have been hanged but for the timely arrival of a gentleman who knew them.

General Jackson was at the siege of Savannah, and, after the disastrous result of that affair, returned to South Carolina. The victory of the Americans at Blackstock's House, in South Carolina, was almost wholly due to the Georgians who were there. Sumter commanded at the beginning of the action, but a severe wound compelled him to retire from the field. The command then devolved upon the oldest Georgia officer, General John Twiggs, who was assisted by Jackson, Clarke, and Chandler. In this engagement Tarleton, the famous leader of the British dragoons, was defeated for the first time, and he was never able to recover the prestige he had lost. Tarleton fled from the field, and Jackson was ordered to pursue him. It was owing only to the fleetness of his horse that Tarleton escaped.



At the battle of The Cow-pens, Jackson again distinguished himself. "Major Jackson," says General Andrew Pickens, "by his example, and firm, active conduct, did much to animate the soldiers and insure the success of the day. He ran the utmost risk of his life in seizing the colors of the 71st British Regiment, and afterwards introducing Major Mc-Arthur, commanding officer of the British Infantry, as a prisoner of war to General Morgan." His services brought him to the attention of General Greene, and he was sent on a tour of difficult duty through North Carolina. He was so successful in this, that the commanding general authorized him to raise a partisan legion of infantry and cavalry for service in Georgia. By means of his native eloquence, which was said to be almost irresistible, he succeeded in raising the legion in a very short time. Wherever he addressed the people, there were loud cries of "Liberty and Jackson forever!" When his legion had been organized, he was appointed lieutenant colonel. His dragoons were clothed and armed by themselves, with the exception of their pistols. Their coats were made of dressed deerskins, and faced with the little blue that could be procured.

Just before the siege of Augusta, Jackson was called upon to employ his eloquence in preventing the militia from giving up in despair and returning to their homes. These men were utterly worn out. Being ignorant men, they could see no ray of hope. They lacked every necessary of life. Jackson roused their drooping spirits, restored their hopes, and revived their old-time enthusiasm. At the siege of Augusta these men fought fiercely. Jackson himself led one of the advance parties. After the surrender of the town, he was ordered to level the fortifications, and he was appointed commandant. He was afterwards ordered to take position midway between Augusta and Savannah. While he held this position, a conspiracy was formed in the infantry to kill him in his bed. A soldier named Davis, who waited in the commander's tent, suspected that something was wrong. So he mingled among the men, and applied many harsh epithets to Jackson. Thinking to make Davis useful to them, the conspirators told him their plans, which he made haste to lay before his superior officer. Shortly afterwards the infantry were drawn up in line, and the ringleaders in the conspiracy arrested, tried, and executed.

After the war the Legislature gave Davis a horse, saddle, and bridle, and five hundred acres of land, as a reward for his fidelity.

Jackson was with General Wayne in his Georgia campaign, and was intrusted by him with many hazardous duties. When Savannah surrendered, General Wayne issued an order in which he said, "Lieutenant Colonel Jackson, in consideration of his severe and fatiguing service in the advance, is to receive the key of Savannah, and is allowed to enter the western gate."

In 1786, Jackson was made brigadier general, and had command of the forces operating against the Indians. Between 1788 and 1806 General Jackson held almost every high office within the gift of the people of the State,—member of the Legislature, governor when only thirty-one years old, member of the first Congress held under the Federal Constitution, member of the State Constitutional Convention, presidential elector, and United States senator.

With General Jackson in many of his engagements was General Elijah Clarke, who in many respects was the most remarkable soldier that Georgia contributed to the War for Independence. With fairer opportunities than he had, he would have made a great commander. He had small knowledge of tactics, but he had what is better,—the skill to take advantage of quickly passing events, and the coolness that made him complete master of all his resources. He was a man of the most striking characteristics, and he came out of the war with many bitter enemies among those with whom he came in contact. This feeling was perpetuated by the political campaigns in which his son, John Clarke, took part after the war. A trace of this is to be seen in the sketch which Governor Gilmer gives to Elijah Clarke in his curious book entitled "Georgians." It is undoubtedly true that Elijah Clarke was ignorant of what is called book knowledge, but he was not much worse off in this respect than the famous Confederate General Forrest, who is thought by some high military critics to have been the most remarkable commander on the Southern side in the civil war. Elijah Clarke, as well as General Forrest, had something that served them a better turn than a mere knowledge of books. They had a thorough knowledge of men, and a quick eye for the situations that follow each other so rapidly in a skirmish or battle.



Elijah Clarke was born in North Carolina, but moved to Georgia in 1774. He was among the first of the inhabitants of Upper Georgia to take up the cause of American independence; and his example, for he was a notable man even in private life, did much to solidify and strengthen those who leaned to that cause. When the British troops marched from the coast into Upper Georgia, Elijah thought the time had come to take his gun from the rack over the door, and make at least some show of resistance. His courage, and the firmness and decision of his character, made him the natural leader of those of his neighbors whose sympathies were with the Liberty Boys in other parts of the State, and he soon found himself a commander without commission or title. He cared less for these things than for the principles of liberty for which he was fighting.

For a while Elijah Clarke and his followers fought as partisan rangers, but he soon drew around him a compact and disciplined body of men who were ready to go wherever he might lead them. He did not confine his efforts to his new neighborhood We hear of him with Howe's ill-fated expedition against East Florida, where, at Alligator Creek, he was asked to perform the impossible feat of storming with a troop of horse a camp intrenched behind logs and brushwood. He was no doubt amazed at the stupidity of General Howe in issuing such an order, but he attempted to carry it out with his usual courage. He did succeed in floundering over the logs with his troops, but he came to a ditch that was too wide for his horses to leap, and too deep to be ridden through. At this moment he and his men were saluted with a heavy fire from the enemy, and they were compelled to retire in confusion. In this attempt Elijah Clarke was shot through the thigh. Later he was in South Carolina, at Blackstocks, and at The Cowpens.

In some quarters an effort has been made to blacken the reputation of General Clarke by comparing his treatment of the Tories with the mild and humane policy pursued by Francis Marion. There was, indeed, some misunderstanding between the two men in regard to the methods that might be adopted. The policy of Marion was undoubtedly the correct one, so far as South Carolina was concerned; but if the Tories in that Province had been guilty of the crimes committed by their brethren in Wilkes and the surrounding region, General Marion's policy would not have been very different from that of General Clarke. The Tories with whom Clarke was familiar were guilty of murder, rapine, pillage, and incendiarism. The Tories in South Carolina were kept under by the presence of Marion and his men. Clarke went wherever his services were needed; and during his absence, the Tories of the Broad River region were free to commit every excess. Marion refused to leave the region where he made his name famous, and thus kept the Tories in constant fear and dread.

Who shall say that Marion would not have been as ready to exterminate the Tories as Clarke was, or that Clarke would not have been as humane as Marion, if each of these distinguished patriots had been in the other's place?

At the battle of Kettle Creek, in what is now Wilkes County, Elijah Clarke distinguished himself by his readiness and skill as a commander. The Americans under Colonel Pickens were in pursuit of the British under Colonel Boyd. Their line of march was the order of battle, and following the vanguard came the right and left wings. The left wing was commanded by Elijah Clarke. The center was led by Colonel Pickens, who was in command of the expedition. Colonel Boyd, the British commander, appeared to be unconscious of pursuit. He had halted on a farm on the north side of Kettle Creek. His horses were left to forage on the young cane that grew on the edge of the swamp; and his men were slaying cattle and parching corn, preparing for a feast after their short rations. The British encampment was formed near the creek, on a piece of open ground flanked on two sides by a canebrake. Colonel Boyd was in utter ignorance of the approach of the Americans, who advanced at once to the attack. The British colonel formed his line in the rear of his encampment, and there received the assault. The battle was hotly contested for more than an hour, and then the Tories retreated through the swamp.

Elijah Clarke, seeing a piece of rising ground on the farther side of the creek, on which he suspected the Loyalists would try to form, ordered the left wing to follow him, and was about to cross the stream when his horse was shot under him. Mounting another, he soon crossed the creek, followed by not more than a fourth of his division. There had been some mistake in sending the order along the line. Clarke gained the hill that had attracted his eye just in time to attack Major Spurgen, a brave British officer, who was forming his command. The firing attracted the notice of the rest of Clarke's division, and they soon joined their leader. Pickens and Dooly also pressed through the swamp, and the battle was renewed with great vigor. For a while the result was in doubt, but at the end the Americans held the hill. The Tories fled in all directions, leaving seventy dead on the field, and seventy-five wounded and captured. Of the Americans, nine were slain, and twenty-three wounded. To Elijah Clarke must be given the credit for this victory, which, coming at the time it did, revived the hopes and courage of the Liberty Boys in all parts of the country.

The Tories, on the other hand, were so depressed by it, that many of them left that part of the State, and those who remained became comparatively quiet. The situation was so encouraging, that many of the people of Georgia, who had been driven from their homes by the cruelty of the Tories, returned with their families. They were not long left in peace, however. The British and the Tories had their active agents among the Creeks and Cherokees, urging these tribes to take up arms and attack the Americans. In view of this, Clarke was sent to guard the frontier forts. Then the Tories again began to pillage and devastate the Broad River region. Some of the crimes they committed would have disgraced savages. Clarke's house was burned, and his family ordered to leave the State. Mrs. Clarke and her two daughters started on their perilous journey with nothing but a small pony of little value, and even this was taken from them before they had gone very far. This only served to renew the activity of Clarke in behalf of the American cause. He defeated the Tories wherever he met them; and if he gave them no quarter, it was because they had shown no mercy to the Americans. The savage character of the warfare waged by the Tories against men, women, and children, must ever stand as an explanation and as an excuse for the fierce spirit displayed by Clarke and the Americans who lived in the Broad River region.

In the battle near Musgrove's Mill, Clarke defeated the British, killing sixty-three men, and wounding and capturing one hundred. During the battle he was twice severely wounded on the head and neck; and once he was surrounded by the enemy, captured, and placed in charge of two men. One of these he knocked down with a blow of his fist, and the other fled. At one time, acting without orders, he was near taking Augusta, and was only prevented by the desire of his men to see their families. After this he returned to Wilkes County, where he was compelled to take under his protection nearly four hundred women and children who had been driven from their homes by the savage Tories. He resolved to carry these to a place of safety, and, with a sufficient guard, set out for Kentucky. Cornwallis, hearing of this movement, and taking for granted that it was a retreat, sent one hundred men under Captain Ferguson to cut Clarke off, the supposition being that the great partisan fighter would march through South Carolina, but he had re-crossed the mountains in the Piedmont region. Hearing of this movement, Clarke detached Major Chandler and Captain Johnston with thirty men to take part in the operations against Ferguson. Thus it was the pursuit of Clarke that brought on the memorable battle of Kings Mountain, which resulted in a great victory for the cause of American independence; and although Clarke was not there in person, his heroic spirit animated the brave men who won the day.

He was the first to teach the militia to stand against the bayonets of the British; and at Blackstocks, in South Carolina, at the head of his Wilkes riflemen, he charged and drove the British light infantry in an open field,—a movement that turned the enemy's right flank, and insured the victory of the Americans. At the siege of Augusta, Clarke had anticipated the movement of Colonel "Light Horse Harry" Lee, and had confined the British garrison to their works for weeks before Colonel Lee's arrival.

At the close of the Revolution, Clarke led the movement against the Indians. He defeated the Creeks in the battle of Jacks Creek. After peace was declared, Clarke, who had been made a general by a grateful State, settled on lands that had been reserved to the Indians. For this he has been criticised very severely; but it is curious that the policy for which he was attacked, shortly afterwards became the policy of the whole people. The States and the United States have made treaties with the Indians, only to break them. Having personal knowledge of the Indians, and having been made the victim of some of their raids, he had no respect for them or for their rights. To this view the whole country afterwards came, and the red men disappeared before it.

It will be well to bear in mind, that, whatever failings he may have had, there was not a more heroic figure in the Revolution than General Elijah Clarke.



A WAR OF EXTERMINATION.



Some of the barbarous features of the Revolutionary War in Georgia have been briefly noted.

History has turned her eyes away from the more horrible details; but by reading between the lines, and taking advantage of the hints and suggestions, it is not hard to get a tolerably fair idea of the methods that were pursued on both sides. Even Colonel Charles C. Jones, jun., whose "History of Georgia" is thus far the most complete that has been written, touches lightly on the cruelties practiced in the efforts of the British and Tories to wrest Upper Georgia from the control of the Americans. There are matters that History cannot deal with and maintain her dignity.

There can be no doubt that the British and the Tories began their cruelties without considering the results to which their acts would lead. It is an easy matter at this late day to see how naturally the war, in the region tributary to Augusta, degenerated into a series of crimes and barbarities foul enough to cause History to hold her hands before her eyes. When Colonel Campbell, assisted by Colonel Brown, advanced to attack Augusta, it was the only American post that had not surrendered to the King's men, and its capture would complete the subjugation of Georgia from a military point of view. The city fell without a struggle, and the American forces retreated across the river. It was natural that the British, and the Tories who were acting with them, should take advantage of this victory to bring the whole region above and around Augusta to terms. The sooner this was done, the sooner would all Georgia be restored to her relations with his Majesty George III. No time was to be lost. Therefore Colonel Campbell, the British commander, tarried in Augusta but a few days. He left Colonel Brown in charge, and marched in the direction of Wilkes County. Those of the inhabitants who had Tory sympathies were to be encouraged; but those who were disaffected were to be dealt with summarily, so as to put an end, at once and forever, to the disloyalty that had been active in that region. This plan was carried out promptly and violently. The severest punishment was the portion of those who refused to take the oath of allegiance. Plunder and the torch were the portions of those who chanced to be away from home, fighting for their country. Their helpless wives and children were left homeless, and destitute of provisions. Fortunately a great many stanch Liberty Boys had carried their families, their household effects, and their cattle, into South Carolina as soon as they heard of the fall of Augusta; but many had remained at home, and the sufferings of these were severe.

Another explanation of the extreme cruelty with which the war in Upper Georgia was waged after the fall of Augusta, was the fact that Colonel Brown, who had been left in command by Colonel Campbell, had some old scores to settle. At the very beginning of the struggle he had been arrested in Augusta by some of the Liberty Boys, tarred and feathered, and paraded through the public streets, on account of his outspoken loyalty to the King. Still another reason was the fact that Daniel McGirth, who had been maltreated by an American officer, was among the officers who had accompanied Colonel Brown. McGirth held every American responsible for the treatment he had received, and he spared few that fell into his hands. Thus, between the anxiety of the British to conquer Georgia completely, and the desires of Brown and McGirth to revenge themselves, the Americans in Upper Georgia were made the victims of the most inhuman barbarities.

The Americans under Elijah Clarke lost no time in retaliating, and thus was begun a contest that may be aptly described as a war of extermination. Clarke was enabled to defeat the British and the Tories wherever they opposed him on anything like equal terms, and this fact added to the rigor with which they treated the Americans who were so unfortunate as to fall into their hands. Shortly after the affair at Musgrove's Mill, in which Clarke defeated the British and the Tories, Lord Cornwallis addressed a circular letter to the officers commanding the advanced posts. He declared, "The inhabitants of the Provinces who have subscribed to and taken part in this revolt shall be punished with the utmost rigor; and also those who will not turn out shall be imprisoned, and their whole property taken from them or destroyed. I have ordered," he goes on to say, "in the most positive manner, that every militiaman who has borne arms with us, and afterwards joined the enemy, shall be immediately hanged. I desire you will take the most vigorous measures to punish the rebels in the district in which you command, and that you obey in the strictest manner the directions I have given in this letter relative to the inhabitants in this country."

Here was authority broad enough to cover every crime that the British and the Tories might see fit to commit, and they stretched it to the utmost limit. They burned houses and destroyed property. They insulted and inhumanly treated women and children. They hanged the innocent. They went about the country practicing every barbarity that their savage and bloodthirsty natures could suggest. It was no wonder that the Americans retaliated whenever they had the opportunity. It was no wonder that Elijah Clarke, naturally independent and irritable, should fail to see the justice or necessity of treating the Tories he captured as prisoners of war.

The situation of the Americans became so serious that Clarke determined to strike a heavy blow. He returned from Carolina to Wilkes County in September, 1780, and in two days succeeded in placing in the field three hundred and fifty men. With this force, strengthened by eighty men recruited in Carolina, he boldly marched on Augusta. The movement was so unexpected, that, but for the fact that the advance guard fell in with an Indian camp which it was compelled to attack, Colonel Brown would have been taken completely by surprise. But the retreating Indians gave him notice, and he took refuge with his command in a strong building known as the White House. The siege began on the 14th. By daylight on the 16th Clarke had succeeded in cutting the garrison off from its water supply. The sufferings of the men, especially the wounded, became most intense. The Americans could hear their cries for water and for medical aid. Brown appears to have been as brave as he was cruel. Though he was shot through both thighs, he remained at the head of his men; and his great courage sustained the spirits of his followers. Clarke summoned him to surrender on the 17th. He not only refused, but warned the American commander that the demonstration he was making against the King's men would bring destruction to the western part of Georgia.

Meanwhile some of Clarke's men had gone to visit their families, and others were more interested in securing plunder than in forwarding the cause of independence. Colonel Brown, as soon as he heard of the approach of the Americans, had sent several messengers by different routes to inform Colonel Cruger of the state of affairs. Cruger, who was in Carolina at Ninety-six, promptly set his men in motion, and on the morning of the 18th appeared on the bank of the Savannah, opposite Augusta. Under the circumstances, Clarke was compelled to retreat. He had suffered a loss of sixty, killed and wounded. In retreating, he was compelled to leave twenty-nine of his wounded men behind. Among these was Captain Ashby, one of the bravest and most humane of the officers of the American army. This unfortunate officer and the men with him fell into the hands of the enemy. Colonel Brown was so severely wounded that he was unable to move about; so he ordered Captain Ashby and twelve of the wounded prisoners to be hanged on the staircase of the White House, where he might see their sufferings and gloat over their agonies. These men were cruelly strangled before Brown's eyes. But their fate was a happy one compared with that of their wounded companions. Those men were turned over to the red savages, who were the allies of the British. The Indians received the prisoners with howls of delight, and began at once to torture them in every conceivable way. They formed a circle, and marched around the Americans, cutting and slashing them with their knives. The end of the unfortunates was most horrible. They were ripped with knives, scalped, and then burned. No doubt, Colonel Brown enjoyed this scene more thoroughly than he did the tame and commonplace spectacle of strangling Captain Ashby and his companions.

Before raising the siege, Elijah Clarke paroled the officers and men whom he had captured,—fifty-six men, all told. This fact is mentioned to show that the Georgia militia had not then begun those acts of retaliation which have attracted the notice of historians. They had had, as we know, abundant provocation; but after the horrible crimes perpetrated by Brown reached their ears, they threw off all restraint. Self-preservation is the first law of nature, and the men who acted with Elijah Clarke thought that the best way to preserve the lives of themselves and their families was to destroy the Tories as fast as they caught them. The fact is chronicled by Colonel Jones, and it is worth noting, that the officers and men paroled by Clarke, in utter disregard of their obligations, took up their arms as soon as the Americans had departed. The probability is that they were driven to this by the commands of Brown.

It is well known, that, as soon as Clarke and his men had retreated, Colonel Brown sent detachments of troops in all directions, with orders to arrest all persons who had taken part in the siege, or who had sympathized with the efforts of the Americans to recapture Augusta. Under this sweeping order, men of all ages and conditions were dragged from their homes and thrown into prison. Those who were suspected of taking part in the siege, or of belonging to Clarke's command, were seized and hanged out of hand. Old men, no longer able to bear arms, were imprisoned for welcoming the return of members of their families who had fought on the American side. One instance out of many that might be cited was the arrest of the father of Captains Samuel and James Alexander. In the seventy-eighth year of his age, this old man was arrested at his home, tied to the tail of a cart, and dragged forty miles in two days. When caught leaning against the cart to rest his feeble limbs, he was whipped by the driver. It was at this time that in the region round about Augusta the hopes of the patriots grew very faint. The women and children assembled, and begged Elijah Clarke to take them out of the country; and in response to the appeals of these defenseless ones, he undertook the movement that culminated in the glorious victory of Kings Mountain.



The winter of 1780 was the darkest hour of the Revolution in Upper Georgia. There was no trade. Farming was at a low ebb. The schoolhouses were closed. Many of the patriots had carried off their families. Many had gone with Elijah Clarke to Kentucky. The patriots had betaken themselves to South Carolina, though the services they rendered there have been slurred over by the historians of that State.

When General Greene began his Southern campaign, and gradually rid South Carolina of the British and the Tory element, the patriots of Upper Georgia ventured to return to their homes. Captain McCall, who was among them, says, in his history, that they returned in parties of ten and twelve, so as to attract as little attention as possible. They appointed Dennis's Mill, on Little River, as a place of meeting. "When these small parties entered the settlements where they had formerly lived," says Captain McCall, "general devastation was presented to view; their aged fathers and their youthful brothers had been murdered; their decrepit grandfathers were incarcerated in prisons where most of them had been suffered to perish in filth, famine, or disease; and their mothers, wives, sisters, and young children had been robbed, insulted, and abused, and were found by them in temporary huts more resembling a savage camp than a civilized habitation." Though Captain McCall was an eyewitness of some of the scenes he describes, the picture he draws might seem to be too highly colored were it not supplemented by a great mass of evidence. One more instance out of many may be given. In a skirmish with the Americans under Colonel Harden, Brown captured several prisoners. Among them was a youth only seventeen years old named Rannal McKay, the son of a widow who was a refugee from Darien. Being told that her son was a prisoner in the hands of Brown, Widow McKay, providing herself with some refreshments that she thought might suit the taste of the British commander, went to Brown's headquarters, and begged that her son might be set free. The cruel wretch accepted the present she had brought him, but refused even to let her see her son, and caused the sentinels to put her out of the camp by force. Next day young McKay and four other prisoners were taken out of the rail pen in which they had been confined. By Brown's order they were hanged upon a gallows until they were nearly strangled. They were then cut down and turned over to the tender mercies of the Indians, by whom they were mutilated, scalped, and finally murdered in the most savage manner.

The cruelty of Colonel Brown and the Tories acting under him was so unbearable that the patriots of that region felt that their existence depended on the capture of Augusta. They decided on an aggressive movement when they met again at Dennis's Mill, on Little River.

Colonel Clarke, who was suffering from the results of smallpox, was too feeble to lead them. His place was taken for the time by Lieutenant Colonel Micajah Williamson; and on the 16th of April, 1781, the Americans moved to the vicinity of Augusta. They were there reenforced by a detachment from southern Georgia under Colonel Baker, and by a number of recruits from Burke County. A few days afterwards they were joined by some Carolina militiamen under Colonel Hammond and Major Jackson.

With this force, Colonel Williamson took up a position twelve hundred yards from the British works, and fortified his camp. The Americans were compelled to wait nearly a month for the aid they expected from General Greene. The militia, worn out with waiting for the reenforcements, were about to withdraw from the camp in despair, when Jackson, that truly great Georgian, made them an address full of the most passionate and patriotic eloquence, and this appeal changed their purpose. Jackson's voice was afterwards heard in the halls of Congress; but we may be sure that he was never more in earnest or more truly eloquent than when he pleaded with the faint-hearted Americans to stand to their cause and their arms. Jackson's address revived their courage; and when, on the 15th of May, Elijah Clarke rode into camp, restored to health and accompanied by one hundred fresh recruits, the confidence of the militiamen was fully renewed.

It was at this time that General Pickens and "Light Horse Harry" Lee (the father of General Robert E. Lee) were ordered by General Greene to march on Augusta and capture that post When Lee reached the neighborhood of Augusta, he learned, from a party of light horse which he had sent on ahead to collect prisoners and gain information, that the annual royal present intended for the Indians had arrived at Fort Galphin, some distance below Augusta. The present comprised blankets, liquor, salt, small arms, powder, and ball. There was a great lack of these articles in the American camp, and Lee resolved to capture them. The supplies were so valuable, that Brown, the British commander, had sent two companies from Augusta to garrison Fort Galphin. This was the situation when "Light Horse Harry" arrived on the ground. The British in Augusta had not yet discovered his approach, and promptness was necessary. Leaving Eaton's battalion, the artillery, and the footsore men of the legion, to follow more slowly, Lee mounted a detachment of infantry behind his dragoons, and made a forced march to Fort Galphin.

This point he reached on the 21st of May, 1781. The weather was extremely hot, and for miles the troopers and their horses had been unable to find a drop of water: consequently neither the men nor the animals were in a condition to make the attack when the command was brought to a halt under the pines that skirted the field surrounding the fort. The British within the fort were resting quietly, and were not aware that an enemy was at hand. A prompt and decisive movement was necessary; and when his men and horses had rested a little while, Lee dismounted the militiamen he had brought with him, and ordered them to make a demonstration against the fort on the side opposite the position he had taken. This famous commander reasoned, that, as soon as the militiamen appeared before the fort, the garrison would sally from the stockade. The militia would retreat, the garrison pursuing, and he would seize upon that moment to assault and capture the post left defenseless. To carry out this plan, Captain Rudolph (who was supposed to be some great general in disguise), with a detachment of picked infantry, was held in readiness to rush upon the fort; while the rest of the troops, supported by the dragoons, were placed where they could shield the militia from the pursuit of the British.

The affair took place just as Lee had foreseen. The garrison sallied out to the attack. The militia, before making a show of resistance, began a retreat. The garrison gave pursuit. Captain Rudolph dashed across the field, and captured the fort without any trouble, The end came, when the militia rallied, and the foot soldiers and dragoons closed around the soldiers of the garrison. During the engagement the Americans lost one man from sunstroke. The enemy lost only three or four men. The rest, together with the valuable stores in the stockade, fell into the hands of the patriots.

Following this successful affair, which was of more importance than it seems now to be, Lee formed a junction with General Pickens; and these two then joined their forces with those of Clarke, who commanded the Georgia militia, and the siege of Augusta began. The first movement was the capture of Fort Grierson, so called in honor of the man who commanded its garrison. Grierson, hard pressed, threw open the gates of the fort, and endeavored to escape. Thirty of his men were killed, and forty-five wounded and captured. Grierson was made a prisoner, but was killed by a Georgia rifleman. He was as cruel and vindictive as Brown himself. He was a monster who had made himself odious to the followers of Clarke. In his history, Captain McCall strongly hints that Grierson was shot by one of the sons of the aged Mr. Alexander, who had been made prisoner and dragged to Augusta tied to the tail of a cart. A reward was offered for information that would lead to the arrest of the man who shot Grierson, but the reward was never claimed. The whole army probably knew who had fired the fatal shot, and no doubt the commanders knew, but their knowledge was not official. No further notice was taken of the matter.

The capture of Fort Grierson cheered the hearts of the besiegers, and gave them renewed courage. Fort Cornwallis was next invested. This stronghold was commanded by Colonel Brown himself, who was as bold as he was cruel. He was mean enough to expose to the American fire the aged Mr. Alexander and other unfortunate patriots who had long been held as prisoners. Captain Samuel Alexander commanded one of the companies close to the fort, and could see and recognize his venerable father, who had been placed in an exposed position by Brown.

It is not necessary to describe all the events of the siege. Brown held out as long as he could, but was finally compelled to surrender. On the 5th of June, 1781, Brown, with three hundred men, marched out of Fort Cornwallis, and that stronghold was immediately taken possession of by Captain Rudolph. A strong guard was detailed by the American commanders, to protect Brown from the just anger of the Georgia soldiers, under Clarke, Williamson, and Jackson. To insure his safety, he was carried to the quarters of "Light Horse Harry" Lee. The next day he and a few of his officers were paroled and sent down the river in charge of a party of infantry instructed to guard him. Ramsay, in his "History of the Revolution of South Carolina," says that Brown was recognized at Silver Bluff by Mrs. McKay, who thus addressed him: "Colonel Brown, in the late day of your prosperity I visited your camp, and on my knees supplicated for the life of my son; but you were deaf to my entreaties. You hanged him, though a beardless youth, before my face. These eyes have seen him scalped by the savages under your immediate command, and for no better reason than that his name was McKay. As you are now prisoner to the leaders of my country, for the present I lay aside all thoughts of revenge; but when you resume your sword, I will go five hundred miles to demand satisfaction at the point of it, for the murder of my son." The probability is that Mrs. McKay used no such stately language. No doubt she walked up to Brown, shook her finger in his face, and exclaimed, "You miserable villain! I can't get at you now; but if the day ever comes, I'll flay you alive for the murder of my poor boy."

The fall of Augusta was received with rejoicings by the patriots everywhere, and the British and the Tories were correspondingly depressed. Men who had been overawed by the cruelty of the Tories, now came out boldly for the cause of independence, and the forces of the Americans were rapidly strengthened. Preparations were made for an aggressive campaign in Georgia by the Liberty Boys; and in this purpose they had the active aid and sympathy of General Greene, whose skill and ability as a commander were not greater than the wisdom he displayed in dealing with the people.

In January, 1782, General Greene ordered General Anthony Wayne to take charge of the campaign in Georgia. At the same time he wrote a letter to Governor Martin that displays better than any document now extant the sagacity and conservatism that were the basis of General Greene's character and the source of his great success as a commander. "I cannot help recommending to your Excellency," he wrote to the governor of Georgia, "to open a door for the disaffected in your State to come in, with particular exceptions. It is better to save than to destroy, especially when we are obliged to expose good men to destroy bad. It is always dangerous to push people to a state of desperation; and the satisfaction of revenge has but a momentary existence, and is commonly succeeded by pity and remorse. The practice of plundering, which, I am told, has been too much indulged with you, is very destructive to the morals and manners of the people. Habits and dispositions founded on this practice soon grow obstinate, and are difficult to restrain; indeed, it is the most direct way of undermining all government, and, never fails to bring the laws into contempt, for people will not stop at the barriers which were first intended to bound them after having tasted the sweets of possessing property by the easy mode of plunder. The preservation of morals and an encouragement to honest industry should be the first objects of government. Plundering is the destruction of both. I wish the cause of liberty may never be tarnished with inhumanity, nor the morals of people bartered in exchange for wealth." This letter was intended to put an end to the war of extermination that the Tories of Upper Georgia had begun, and to prevent the patriots from carrying out their plans of revenge. The letter did great good. It was turned over to the Legislature by the governor, and thus made public; and its sentiments were taken to heart by hundreds who had suffered the most cruel wrongs at the hands of the Tories. General Greene's letter was also made the basis of two proclamations, both issued by the governor after conference with General Wayne. One opened the door to disaffected Georgians who might desire to return to the ranks of the republicans, and the other was addressed to the Hessian troops who had already begun to sympathize with the Salzburghers at Ebenezer. Stevens, in his "History of Georgia," says that many citizens who had been compelled from various reasons to seek protection under the British Government, and who had even joined the armies of the enemy, took advantage of the proclamation which referred to them, returned to their State allegiance, and joined the forces of General Wayne, where they proved their sincerity by making the most zealous efforts to merit the pardon and protection that had been promised them by the governor.

After a brilliant campaign, lasting from January to July, 1782, General Wayne, assisted by Elijah Clarke, James Jackson, and other bold spirits who had never suffered the fires of liberty to go out in Georgia, cleared the State of the British. Savannah was occupied on the 11th of July, the keys having been surrendered to James Jackson. This was the end of British rule in Georgia.



A NEGRO PATRIOT.



Along with the emigrants from North Carolina who first settled Wilkes County, there came a man named Aycock. He brought with him a mulatto boy named Austin. This boy passed as Aycock's slave; but when the conflict between the Liberty Boys and the Tories in that part of the country became desperate,—when the patriots were fighting for their lives as well as for the liberties of their country,—Aycock's neighbors called on him to do his part. According to all accounts, Aycock was not much of a warrior. His sympathies were with his liberty-loving neighbors; but his enthusiasm did not invite him to expose himself to the fire of musketry. It is said that he joined the neighbors, and strove to be a faithful militiaman, but he was in a state of constant fear. Governor Gilmer says of Aycock, that, from the time he was required to fight, he saw a terrible Tory constantly pointing a loaded gun at him. His alarm finally became so extreme that he offered as his substitute the mulatto boy Austin, who had then grown to be a stout and serviceable lad.

Objection was made that Austin was a slave, and could not therefore be received as a soldier. At this, Aycock acknowledged that Austin was no slave; that, although he was a mulatto, he had been born free. This fact was made so clear to the patriots, that they willingly received Austin as a soldier, and he was mustered into the service under the name of Austin Dabney. He fought under Elijah Clarke, being under the command of Colonel John Dooly, who was afterwards so foully murdered by the Tories. Of all the brave men that fought under the heroic Clarke, there was none braver than Austin Dabney, none that did better service.

He was in the battle of Kettle Creek, and was foremost among those who followed Clarke. Toward the close of this the bloodiest battle fought in Georgia between the patriots and Tories, Austin Dabney was shot through the thigh, and so dangerously wounded that he became a cripple for life. He was taken by his comrades to the house of a Mr. Harris, where he was carefully nursed until his wound healed. He was not able to do military duty after that, but he devoted himself to Harris and his family more faithfully than any slave could have done. It may be said of him that gratitude became the ruling passion of his heart.

After the Americans had won their independence, and peace with it, Austin Dabney became prosperous. Being a quick-witted man, with an instinct for business, he accumulated property. He finally moved to Madison County, taking with him his benefactor and family, to whose wants and desires he continued to minister with as much devotion as he displayed at the beginning of his service. It was in Madison County that Austin Dabney became noted for his fondness for horse-racing. He attended all the races in the neighboring counties. He was the owner of some of the finest race horses to be found in the country; and such was his popularity, that he always found prominent men to stand for him.

Shortly after he removed to Madison County, he received a pension from the United States Government. He sent Harris's oldest son to school, and afterwards to college. When the young man graduated from Franklin College, now the State University, Austin Dabney supported him while he studied law with Hon. Stephen Upson at Lexington, Oglethorpe County. When young Harris was undergoing his examination for admission to the bar, Austin Dabney stood leaning against the railing that inclosed the court, listening to the proceedings with great anxiety. When the young man was sworn in, and was shaking hands with the members of the bar, Austin, unable to control himself, burst into a flood of tears, happy that he had been able to make a gentleman of the son of the man who had nursed him so long and patiently while his wound was healing.

When the public lands in Georgia were distributed among the people by lottery, the Legislature gave to Austin Dabney a lot of land in Walton County. The next year the voters of Madison County were in a condition bordering on distraction, being divided into Dabney and anti-Dabney parties. Austin had not been permitted to have a chance in the lottery with other soldiers of the Revolution. Consequently Stephen Upson, one of Georgia's most prominent men at that time, employed his influence with such effect that a law was passed giving Dabney a valuable lot. One of the members of the Legislature from Madison County voted for this law. At the next election the constituents of this member divided themselves into two parties, one faction indorsing the vote, and the other denouncing it. Those who denounced the vote did it on the ground that it was an indignity to white men for a mulatto to be put on an equality with them in the distribution of the public land, though, as Governor Gilmer bluntly puts it, not one of them had served his country so long or so well. Governor Gilmer, from whose writings all facts about Austin Dabney are taken, tells a very interesting anecdote about him. In order to collect the pension which the United States Government allowed on account of his broken thigh, Austin went once a year to Savannah. Once when he was on his way to draw what was due him, he fell in with Colonel Wiley Pope, his neighbor, who was also journeying to Savannah. They were very intimate and social on the road, and until they found themselves in the streets of Savannah. When they reached the fashionable part of the city, Colonel Pope observed to his companion that he was a sensible man, and knew the prejudices that prevented them from associating together in the city. Austin Dabney replied that he understood it very well, and with that he checked his horse and fell in the rear of Colonel Pope after the fashion of a servant following his master. Their way led them in front of the house of General James Jackson, who was at that time governor of the State. The governor was standing in his door at the time. Colonel Pope passed on unrecognized, but, chancing to glance around, he saw Governor Jackson run from the house into the street to greet Austin Dabney. The governor seized the negro's hand, shook it heartily, drew him from his horse, and carried him into the house, where he remained a welcome guest during his stay in the city. Colonel Pope (so Governor Gilmer says) used to tell this story with great glee, but owned that he felt put out when he realized, that, whilst he was a stranger at a tavern, Austin Dabney was the honored guest of the governor of the State. The explanation was, that Governor Jackson had seen Dabney's courage and patriotism tested on the field of battle, and he knew that beneath the tawny skin of the mulatto there beat the heart of a true man.

Austin Dabney was always popular with those who knew of his services in the Revolutionary War. Governor Gilmer says that he was one of the best Chroniclers of the stirring events of that period. His memory was retentive, his understanding good, and he had a gift of description possessed by few. He moved to the land the State had given him, taking with him the family of the man who had nursed him. He continued to serve them while he lived, faithful to the end, and when he died left them the property he had accumulated.



THE YAZOO FRAUD

Some writers on the early history of Georgia have been under the impression that the speculation known as the Yazoo Fraud had its beginning in the efforts of General Elijah Clarke and his followers to settle on the Indian reservation lying west of the Oconee River; but this is not the case at all. General Clarke's movement was the result of an enterprise which was aimed against the Spaniards; and, though the facts have no real connection with the Yazoo speculation, they may be briefly told here, especially since Stevens, in his "History of Georgia," turns them all topsy-turvy.

Genet was the first envoy sent to represent the wild and revolutionary republic of France,—the republic of Robespierre and the Jacobins. He represented, as well as any man could, the ideas and purposes of those who had wrought such havoc in France. He was meddlesome, wrong-headed, unreasonable, and bold with it all. He sailed from France in a ship which he commanded himself; and instead of going straight to Philadelphia (then the seat of government), where his business called him, he landed at Charleston in South Carolina. War was then pending between France and Spain; and Genet, after landing in Charleston, found ready sympathizers in the French Huguenots of South Carolina, and indeed in all those who had fought for American liberty. There were two reasons why the fiery appeals of Genet to the people of Carolina to take up arms against Spain were received enthusiastically. One was, that the Spaniards in Florida had been at constant war with the people of Georgia and Carolina, and had committed many crimes and depredations. The other was, that the people felt grateful to France for the aid she had given the American Colonies in their efforts to shake off the yoke of Great Britain.

Genet's plan was to raise in this country an army large enough to seize the Spanish possessions in Florida, and to reconquer Louisiana. For the reasons stated, Genet found the people enthusiastic in favor of his enterprise. The enthusiasm was intense. It crossed the Savannah, and found General Elijah Clarke, with his strong nature and active sympathies, ready to embrace it. His military prestige in the South commended him to Genet as the man to lead the military enterprise against the Spanish settlements in the South. Accordingly he was given command of the army that was to be raised, and was made a major general in the French service with a pay of ten thousand dollars.

Having secured a commander whose courage and resources in the field could be depended on, Genet went from Charleston to Philadelphia overland, stirring up sympathy for his enterprise and enlisting men. His success was greater than he had dreamed of. He found but one thing in his way, and that was the firmness and vigilance of George Washington. This great man set his face sternly against the project; but such was the enthusiasm of the people—artfully stirred by Genet, who was as accomplished as he was unscrupulous,—that a French party was formed. Genet took advantage of the formation of this party to arouse prejudice against Washington; and such was his success, that John Adams, who was afterwards President, says that there was a multitude of men in Philadelphia ready to drive Washington from the executive chair.

A considerable army was raised, recruits reported to General Clarke from the Ohio River to the St. Mary's, and everything was ready for action. At that moment the heavy hand of Washington descended on the enterprise. The recall of Genet was demanded, the French party went to pieces, the project collapsed, and Elijah Clarke was left without resources, surrounded by a considerable force of men who had come at his bidding to take part in the attack on the Spanish possessions. These men were on his hands, expecting the fulfillment of promises that had been made to them. What was to be done? It was at this critical period that the eyes of General Clarke turned to the Indian reservation west of the Oconee. He marched his men to these lands, and took possession. He, and those who engaged in the movement for settling the lands, had risked their lives for their country on a hundred battlefields. They thought that the lands that had been claimed by the King belonged to those who had conquered the King's armies. They were right in principle, but wrong in action. The lands that had belonged to the King now belonged to the people, not as individuals, but as a corporate body,—to the whole people represented by the State government. These principles had not been made as clear by discussion in General Clarke's day as they have been made since. He engaged in no speculation. He boldly settled the lands, and was prepared to boldly hold his position. The settlement was made in 1794. On the 28th of July, Governor George Matthews issued a proclamation forbidding the settlement, and likewise directed one of the judges to issue a warrant for the general's arrest. At the Superior Court of Wilkes County, Clarke surrendered himself to the judge, who referred the case to the county justices. These judges made a decision, setting forth the fact that Elijah Clarke had surrendered himself into custody; that, being desirous to do speedy justice to the State as well as to the party charged, they had proceeded to maturely consider the case; and that after examining the laws of the State, and the treaties made and laws passed by the United States, they gave it as their "decided and unanimous opinion that the said Elijah Clarke be and is hereby discharged." Encouraged by this decision, General Clarke returned to his settlement with the intention of holding the lands; but finally both the Federal and the State governments moved against him, and he abandoned the enterprise. The policy that Clarke began in settling the Indian lands without regard to the rights of the savage has since become the policy of the government. It is not a wholesome policy, nor is it authorized by the moral or civil law; but it has been unblushingly carried out nevertheless.

The Yazoo Fraud was a far different matter. The very name of it was foreign to Georgia. It was borrowed from the Indian name of a small stream which empties itself into the Mississippi River. When the Colony of Georgia was first settled, the land granted to Oglethorpe was described as lying along the Savannah River, extending southward along the coast to the Altamaha, and from the head waters of these rivers westward to "the South Seas." Afterwards Great Britain changed the line which he had established. She carried the boundary line of West Florida, a part of her possessions, higher up. The new line started from the Mississippi at the mouth of the Yazoo River, and ran due east to the Chattahoochee at a point near where the town of West Point now stands. As the upper boundary of British West Florida this line came to be known as the Yazoo line, and the country above and below it to an indefinite extent came to be known as the Yazoo country. No boundary can now be fixed to the region then known as the Yazoo country. At the close of the Revolutionary War, Great Britain made a treaty which has been interpreted as vesting in the United States and in Georgia the right and title to these lands, reaching from the Chattahoochee to the Yazoo River, and extending on each side of this line to a distance that has never been estimated.

The Yazoo Fraud itself had a somewhat vague beginning. From the best information that can now be obtained, it may be said that it was set on foot in 1789, shortly after the close of the Revolution, by a sharper who was famous in that day. He was known as Thomas Washington, but his real name was Walsh. Washington, or Walsh, is described as being a very extraordinary man. He had fought in the service of Georgia, but he had the instinct of a speculator; and when the war was ended, he gave himself up to the devices of those who earn their living by their wits. He was a man of good address, and his air of candor succeeded in deceiving all whom he met. Those who dealt with him always had the worst of the bargain.