Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

MB ©IWIBSHAKL Fol. I. PVSXdSHJCD XVESY TUJgSVAY MOBXIX4 BY SAfSUEL S JACK. Terms. i . r» tk, a «>.» am.six months or four DoL IK R «Do U ? ra P O / •p?he year. Subscribers liv>n ? V |*ri at the expiration of tu» 7 . . • out of the State, will be expend'" all cases to pay in advance. No subscription received for less thdK one year, uiiess tho money is paid in advance; and MJ paper will be discontinued until all arrearges are pam, sx ..pt at the option of the Publisher. Persons request ing a discontinuance of their Papers, aro requested to bsar iu mind a settlement of their accounts. AovKBTtsEMENTfI will be inserted at the usual rates; when the number of insertions is not specified, they will be continued until ordered out; qj- All Letters to tho Editor or Publisher, on matters connected with the establishment, must be . Post Paid in order to secure attention. (EF Notice of the sale of Land and N egroes, by , Administrators, Executors or Guardians, must be pub- I jished sixty days previous to the day ol eale. JZ The s ile of Personal Property, in like manner, I must be published forty dayb previous to the day of sate. jjr Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate, must-be pub!.shed rumr dayr. jj- Notice that Application will be made to die Court of Ordinary for Leave to sell Land end Negroes, must be published four months. gj- Notice that Application will be made for Let ters of Administration, must be published thirty daY« and Letters of Dismi sion, six months. For Advertising—Letters of Citation, c' 27b lETNotice to Debtors and Creditors, (40 days,) 3 25 : Four Month Notices 4 b 0 j Sales of PcrsnmlTropcrty by Executors, Adminis trators or Uuardiens, 3 25 Solee of Land or Negroes by do. 4 75 • Application for Letters of Dismission, 4 50 Other Advertisements will be charged 75 cent'’ , for every teirtden lines of small type, (or space et;ui- ■ Yilent.) first insertion, and 50 cents f>r each weekly continuance. If published every other week, 62J cts. , for each continuance. If published once a month it | will ba charged each time ns n new advertisement. | ’ For a sing's insertion ono Dollar per square. - 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.