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PVSXdSHJCD XVESY TUJgSVAY MOBXIX4
BY
SAfSUEL S JACK.
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- MW! '<■" wvwtuig.u.tJ!' I. 1 . i
1
Froffi tTfe New Fork Evening FAC
ftaiL
The liunrin rhind—that lofty thing!
Tho palace and the throne,
Where reason sits, a sceptcred king.
And brenthfs Ms judgment tone. j
Old who with silent st< p shall trace
The borders of thnt haunted place,
♦
N >i in ilia weakness own.
That mystery and marble bind
That lofty thing—the human mind!
Tho human heart that restless thing!
Tiie tempter and the tried-
The joyous and the suffering—
The source of pain and pride;
The gorgeous throng—the desolate,
The scat ol love, the lair of hate—
Self stung, sclf.Jeified!
Yet do we bless thee as thou art!
Thou restless thing 'ho human heart!
Tho human soul—that startling thing!
Mysterious and sublime!
The angel sleeping on the wing
Worn by the scoffs of time—
The beautiful, the veiled, the bound.
The earth enslaved, the glory.crowned,
Tho stricken in its prime!
From heaven in tears to earth it xtole,
That startling thing—the human soul!
And this is man—Ob! ask of him,
Tho gifted and forgiven—
While o'er hie vision, drear and dim,
The wrecks ol time are driven;
If pride or passion m their power.
Can chain tho tide or charm the hour,
Or stand in place of heaven?
Ho bonds tho bow, he bows the knee—
" Creator, Father! none but thee!”
It..!!!!_ !L'J■ I J'Ll'LLU'&'l ■..» U.-L.'J!!LJL. JdJg.'■Bß"»
T I k (F I. L a 5 ¥ .
From the Southern IdteraryJourn.il.
RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS
OE REVOLUTIONARY CHAR
ACTERS AND INCIDENTS.
By one who has of ten heard them. nar
rated by the actors in those times of
trial; or t by lookers on.
William Cunningham, (or as ho
was commonly called Bloody Bill
Cunningham,) acted too prominent
a part in the partisan ware fare of
JLaurcns, Newberry and Edgefield
ROME, FLOYD COUNTY, GEORGIA, OCTOBER ,33 1838.
Districts, in the Revolutionary times,
not to be first remembered and first
noticed. He was a native of Lau
fens District, and a distant relative
of Gen’is. Robert, Patrick, and John
Cunningham.-—-Of his parents little
is known. His father was an old
i man at the time when his son’s ca
ireer of blood commenced, and I
presume from the incidents which
was the first in it, incapable of pro
tecting himself from the violent.
W illiam Cunningham is represen
ted to have been a man of great
physical powers, and of fine person
al appearance. One of his contem
poraries (the late Wm. Caldwell)
used to say, “that he had often heard
jit said, Cunningham was a coward;
but,” added he “whoever said so did
;nof know him; he was as brave a
man as ever walked the earth.
About the commencement of hos
tilities at the South, 1775, he enlist
ed as a private soldier in the service
of the State of South Carolina, in a
company commanded byCapt. John
Caldwell in Cok Thompson’s Regi
ment of Rangers. He served with
credit; so much so, that the Captain
I was about promoting him over the
head of his own brother; Wm. Cald
well, who belonged to the same com
pany. Some trival offence prevent
ed his promotion, and sent him be
, fore the Court-martial, by which he
(was sentenced to be whipped, and
ibe actually suffered Uic degrading
| punishment. With his blood on fire,
& vengeance his predominant feeling
: lie deserted the flag of his country
-and lied to Florida. While there,
; William Ritrhn kifkpd hia agod fa
ther out of doors. By some means
; the intelligence reached Cunning
i ham; he swore that he would seek
revenge in the blood of his father’s
j oppressor. He shouldered his rifle,
t and mostly on foot traversed the
-country between St. Augustine ami
Laurens District, and in Ritche’s
j own house, in the presence of his
(family he co'nsumated his cherished
and fell purpose by shooting him
dead.
j He here first tasted blood; and like
j the tiger, the taste created a thirst
I which could never be quenched,
j After that time he was one of the
most merciless of the Tory blood
*hounds who scoured the country,
and hunted to the death her gallant
and suffering sons.
He raised an independent compa
ny of mounted loyalists.— They
! were like himself bold and daring
spirits; and many of them like him
had already tasted the blood of pri
vate revenge. Some of their names
(arcstill remembered; William Par-
Ikcr, Henry Parker. William Kilmer,
Jonathan Kilmer, Hall Foster. Jesse
Gr»»y, William Diinahow Isaac,
Aaron, and Curtis Mills, Ned and
Dick Turner, Matthew Love, Bill
Elmore, Hubbles, John Hood, and
Moultrie. Os some of these men,
in these random recollections, we
may have occasion to speak fur
ther.—One of his earliest feats as a
partisan officer, was a visit to his
old commander Maj. John Caldwell,
who had retired to private life. He
found him on a summer’s day sitting
in his own house, without shoes or
stockings. He amused himself by
stamping his toes or kicking his
shins; and he concluded his visit by
, telling him that this was ample satis
faction for the whipping he had re
ceived while under his command.
His pursuit of Capt. Sam’l. Moore
showed his fiend like disposition.
They met and charged each other.
Moore gave way and fled. Both
I were mounted, both were excellent
m, and Wocler at i o bi.
horsemen, both knew tho ground'
over which they ran. For mile’s
Cunningham was in sword’s length,
and in a low conversational style
urged his flying foe to redouble his
exertions to escape. “Push the ro
wels Sammy, honey,” was his contin
ual jeering observation. At length,
like the cat tired of his play he cut
his adversay down, and in his death
he removed another object of his
hatred.
His deeds of blood, which are,
however, best remembered, are those
which occured in what is called the
“bloody scout.” This followed the
execution of Gov. Rutledge's impo
lite order directing the wives and
children of the T ories in the Brit
ish service, to be sent to the British
lines near Charleston. This was
well calculated to rouse the feelings
of such men as Cunningham and his
blood-hounds. He and they swore
to be revenged on all who had exe
cuted the order.
His company left Charleston in
detached parties, made their way up'
the Edistoe, concentrated at Edge- 1 ,
field, and attacked Turner’s station, i
The resistance was gallant, but'una-l
vailing. The garrison surrendered!
and was put to the sword with the!
exception of a single man (Warren
Bletcher.) In that affair fell two of j
the Butlers, father and son—the;
grandfather and uncle of the pres !
ent Governor and Judge Butler.!
Bletcher was saved by Aaron Mills.
If was a rule of the company that
after Cunningham had selected his|
victims, each member might select!
the object of his vengeance. Blotch-;
cr was known by Mills and was pro
tected by him during the massacre.!
When the company left lhe bloody
scene, it was determined that Blotch-:
er should be conveyed as a prisoner
to the next halt, and there probably j
his life wove to pay tho forfeit. He J
was mounted behind Mills. As the!
company proceeded at a round
gallop, Mills affected that his horse
was overburdened, and began to lag
behind; he fell back behind first one
and then the other until he was cn-(
tircly in the rear. The company;
had crossed a branch grown up with
cane; as he approached it Mills said
to Bletcher, “Jump off and run for
your life.” He did so. Mills suf
fered him to gain the covet before he
cried out, “The prisoner lias escap
ed.” Pursuit in vain.
Cunningham was next seen in
Newberry District. When he cross
ed Saluda (perhaps at the Old town,)
he met with and captured John
Towles. He had been concerned
in sending off the women and chil
dren of the Tories and had been es
pecially engaged in driving in their
cattle. Cunningham swore he;
should die in his trade, he therefore
hung him with a piece of untanned
cow-hide.
At Ensley's shop he killed Oliver
Towels and two others.—The only
surviving member of the Caldwell
family of the Revolution, Mrs. Gil
lam, then a little girl, visited the shop
alone soon after Cunningham had
followed from the report of guns.
When she reached it she found Oli
ver Towles and two others, her ac
quaintances, dead. One was stretch
ed or laid out upon the beer bench.
On his march to Edgehill's
Haynes’ station he passed the house
of his old commander, Jno. Cald
well. Two of his men, Hall Foster
and Bill Elmore were his videtts in
advance. —They found Major Cald-j
well walking in his garden, shot him
down, and charged their horses in
and out of the garden in fiend-like
1 sport. When Cunningham arrived
he affected to deplore the bloody
deed; he protested with tears that he
would as soon have seen his father
shot as Major Caldwell. Yet in the
next instant his house was wrapt in
flames, and his widow left With no
other shelter than the heavens, seat
ed by her murdered husband. His gal
lant brother, James Caldwell, whose
scarred face testified to h’s gallant
ry in the most gallant affair of the
battle of the Cowpens, finding her
in this situation, forgot every thing
else than vengeance, and on the suc
ceeding day his sword drank the
blood of two of Cunningham’s strag
glers.
Hayes was a bold, inexperienced
incautious man. His station was at
Col. Edgefield’s, in Laurens district,
that of Little River and Simmon’s
creek to Orangeburgh. The dwel
ling house built of logs was his fort.
He was told by Wm. Caldwell to
put himself in aposition of defence;
pointing to the smoke he said, “that
iis my brother’s house and I know
> Cunningham is in the neighborhood.’
Hayes was at work in a blacksmith
1 shop, making a cleat to hold a lady’s
! netting, and hooted at Caldwell’s
: suggestions, saving that Cunning
ham had too much sense to come
; there. Caldwell replied, “I will not
1 stay here to bo butchered;” and
! mounted and fled at full speed. As
! he went out at one end of the old
: field he saw Cunningham come in at
the other.
| The surprise was complete and
! overwhelming. Hayes and his men
; almost without resistance, were driv
; on into the house and Cunningham’s
| pursuit was so close, that John Tin
j sley struck a full blow with his sword
at Col. Hayes as he entered the
door. A few guns were fired. One
. of Cunningham's men was killed in
the assault, and one of Hayes’meh
j was killed in theh ouse by a ball shot
! between the logs. A pole tipped
with flax, saturated with tar, was set
on fire and thrown upon the house.
It was soon in flames. Hayes and
i his party on a promise of good quar
ters, (as it has always been said.)
surrendered. Cunningham selected
Hayes and Maj. Dan'l. Williams (a
son of col. Williams who tell at
King’s mountain,) as his victims.
He was about hanging them on a
pole of a fodder stack, when he was
accosted by a younger son of col.
Williams, a lad of sixteen or seven
teen years, who had from infancy
known cunningham. capt. “Cun
ningham, how shall I go home and
tell my mother that you have hang
ed brother Daniel?” ennningham
instantly swore that he should not
! have that melancholy duty to per
form. He hung him up with his
brother and Hayes. The pole broke
with their weight, and with his sword
he literally hewed them to pieces.
While wiping his recking sword, he
observed, that one of his comrades
in cuttting a captive to pieces had
broken his sword, —he gaily handed
to him his, observing, that it
would'nt break. James Tinsley,
Maj. Wm. Dunlap and John cum
mins were the only survivors of
Hayes' party; Jas. Tinsley and his
brother were, I had supposed, saved
by their gallant kinsman John Tins
ley; but within the last few years,
James Tinsley assured me, that such
was not the fact. He said their lives
: were saved by another of cunning
ham's party, (whose name to my
great regret has escaped my recol
■ lection,) at the peril of his own life.
Major Dunlap of Huntsville, Lau
rens District, was then a lad; no one
then or ever since could be his ene
my. He was discharged the next
morning covered with the blood
and brains of his comrades. John
cummins, (commonly called King
cummins. w r as 100 much the Leath
er Stocking of the lower part of
Laurens District to bo an object of
vengeance. He still lives at a great
age to fight all the battles over.
Passing from Haye’s station to the
west side of Little River, Cunning
ham crossed at Hugh O Neall’s mill.
This ho burned. The owner, on
the top of Edgehill’s mountain, had
in sorrow and sadness witnessed the
massacre of his neighbors at Hayes’s
station. From the same lofty stand
he saw his all, in a pecuniary point
of view, swept away by the fire
brand of him who never knew to
pity or spare. On the next day he
and some other of the neighbors
committed to the earth the mangled
bodies of the slain at Haye’s station.
Two large pitts constituted the grave
of all who fell there; and there un
distinguished and almost unknown
they still remain.
cunningham encamped on the
night succeeding the massacre on the
Beaverdam, at a place now known
as Odell’s mills. From this point
he commenced his retreat. His
bloody foray had aroused the whole
whig population, col. Samuel Ham
mond from the time cunningham
passed the Saluda river, was in hot
pursuit. Cunningham’s company
remained embodied until they passed
Little Saluda, at Wests. It was
there tho late Gen. Butler leading
the van of the pursuit confronted
almost alone the whole of Cunning
ham's company. Numbers forced
him to pause, and before his exhaus
ted companions could reach him,
Cunningham had Resumed his flight.*
and breaking into detached parties,
he and his followers plunged into
the pine barrens and swamps of the
Edisto country, and by different
routs reached charleston.
On this or some other occasion,
Butler and his company chased a
party consisting of cunningham,
Forest and nood.—iicre again Bul
ler kept nearly pace with the pursu
ed, but his companions could not.
In the midst of the race cunning
ham's horse sunk in a mire. While
he was struggling out of it cunning
ham’s trusty companions turned like
lions at bay again Butler's vengeance
for a lather's and brother’s blood
was prevented from taking effect.
On another occasion, it is said
Butler, single handed, pursued cun
ningham alone for miles; each of
their horses straining every nerve,
ran on the jocky style, nose and tail.
Butler was often near enough to
have struck cunningham’s noble
and generous steed, and thus disable
him; but this his generous nature
forbade, the rider, not the steed, was
his vengeance. Cunningham's pis
tol was often thrown over his shoul
der and snapped at the pursuer.
At length Butler’s horse sunk in a
hole in the woods, and before it was
possible for his rider again to re
sume the pursuit of cunningham, he
was far beyond it.
The noble war horse which had
borne cunningham through so many
of his bloody adventures, and never
failed him at his greatest need, died
in Charleston, and was hurried al
most with the honors of war by his
btood stained master.
Os cunningham I know no more
certainly, save that in him was not
fulfilled the Scripture. The violent
man did not die a violent death.
( Continued on fonrth page.)
NO 40.