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NEWS & PLANTERS’ GAZETTE.
D. (1. COTTIKW, Editor.
No. 33.—NEW SERIES.]
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AGENTS.
I THE FOLLOWING GENTLEMEN WILL FORWARD THE
NAMES OF ANY WHO MAY WISH TO SUBSCRIBE I
! J. T. tj- G. 11. Wooten,\ A. D. Stalham,ilanbura,
Mallorysville, B. F. Tatum, Lincoln-
I: Felix G. Edwards, Pe- ton,
tersburg, Elbert, O. A. Luckelt, Crawford
| Gen. Grier, Raytown, ville,
1 Taliaferro, W. Davenport, Lexing
| James Bell, Powelton, ton,
I Hancock, S. J. Hush, Irwington]
Wm. II Nelms, Elber-| Wilkinson,
ij ton, j Dr. Cain, Cambridge]
f John A. Simmons, Go-i Abbeville District,!
’ slinn, I incoln, I South Carolina.
i j
1 Mail Arrangements.
f* POST~OFFICE, i
Washington, Ga., January, 1841. $
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—a—p——w
~ CUTTING & BUTLER,
ATTORNIES,
HAVE taken an OFFICE over Cozart &
Woods Store.
Marc h 11,1841. 28
NOTICE.
HE Subscribers having had ilieir Books and
-* fl most of their Accounts consumed by the
late Fire, would respectfully solicit those indebt-l
ed to call, without delay, and settle either will]
CASH or by NOTE, the amount due as near]
as their memory will serve them—for this matter
will be left entirely to the Honor of a great many;
and we trust no one will be found taking the ad
vantage of our situation ; but that all will come
> forward, like honest men, to our relief.
v BURTON & PELOT.
N. B.—Call at the Bank, on E. M. Burton, for
settlement.
March 11. ts 28
mlTotice,
AS Mr. Joliu G. Crane has made a satisfacto
ry explanation and arrangement in refer
ence to some Notes given him by myself, (and
against the purchase of which I cautioned the
p-blic some time since,) I take this method of
making it known, that no injury to Mr. Crane
may follow that publication.
JAMES M. SMYTLIE.
April 8, 1841. 32
JYotlce*
THE Teachers who had children in their
Schools under the Common School Act,
and who liave not been paid for their services,
will make out their account and present the same
I to the Secretary or one of the Commissioners of
the Poor School, in exact accordance with the
Law regulating the Common School returns, on
or before the first Tuesday in May next, at which
time a meeting of the Commissioners of the Poor
School for Wilkes county wiil take place in
[ Washington. As on that day the accounts ren
j deredVvill be examined and passed or rejected,
<d VHose who fail to have their accounts pre
i fAited and made out in conformity to the Aci,
Jf be barred thereafter from payment, or any
( part thereof; they would do well to attend to it.
ROALAND BEASLEY, Secretary
and Treasurer to Board of P. S.
I April 8,1841. td 32
LETTERS
REMAINING ill the Dost-Officoat Wash
ington, Ga., on the Ist day of April, 1841 :
B.
Banks, II R 2 Bel!, Joseph
Billingslea, Francis 3 Bell, James
Bcruin, Benjamin F Bales, Anderson
Burns, James Boatwright, Janies
Booker, WmM Brant let, Mr.
Bryant, Boling Burdet, James W
C
Caloway, Chenoth Copcper, Bushbin
Gorneilison, Wm Collins, Mary-Ann
Colbert, Martha Carter, John 1’
Cook, James R Olivers, James A. 3
Cox, Marv-Jane Olivers, Joel R. 2
I>.
Davis, Martha T Dozier, T F
Deveaux, Wm. 2 Dyer, Joel
E.
Eckles, Janies
F.
Florence, James Fowler, James
G.
Gibson, Ophelia Gattrel, Joseph
Garrald, Willia II Guise, Isaac N
Gresham, Charles
11.
Heath, U. S. 5 1 luskey, Wm
Heath, James P Ilackney, James
J.
Joiner, Clara Johnson, Thomas
9 turct, Maria L Johnson’s, S. heirs
L.
Laughter, Jno C Lawrence, Frederick
Duckett, Francis J„ Lincoln, Hermon
Lawrence &, i'eteel Lewis, Warner
M.
McNeil, Ii L
N.
Norman, Gideon 2
O.
Oliver, Furney B
I’.
Dope, Henry J 2 l’earson, Henry A
Doss, Iluriah l’icare, J
IB
Reims, Cyrus Ross, Job 2
Ross, Etheldridge lloss, Mariah
S.
Smith, Timothy T Siatham, A B
Spratlin, Janies H Smith, James, L I lossy.
(Shepherd, Ann E and B Wallace
fShtiiian, M J 2
T.
Terrell, Stephen Truit. Purnal
Terrell, David Thomas, WmS
W.
I Willis, Easter White, Charlotte
Woollen, Jno T 3 Wvim, Samuel II
Winn, John Wootlen, Mr. former)
Weems, Isabelle A Sheriff (
Williamson, Mary Wilkinson, John
YVootten, Elizabeth 96|
li t’ Persons wishing Letters from the above
List, will please say Advertised.
JOSEPH W. ROBINSON, P. M.
April 8, 1841. 3t 32
r MISUELLANEOUS.
From the Knickerbocker, March, 1841.
MARY HART.
The following narrative was derived from
an officer of General Wellborn’s corps,
who was in battle with the Creek Indians,!
as below narrated, and an eye witness ol j
the remarkable events here recorded.—
The whole affords but another proof, that
truth is indeed often stranger than lie
tion.
The Creek war of 1830-7, was a most
barbarous one, and continued nearly two
years. The Creek population comprehen
ded in the treaty for emigration westward,
was twenty-two thousand souls, about two
thousand of whom, warriors, broke the trea
ty, and commenced hostilities in May, IS
-36, by an attack on the town of Roanok .
in the night, butchering its inhabitants, put
ting them to flight, and pillaging and sot
ting fire to their habitations. The terrors
of an affrighted population, once exposed
to Indian barbarities, can hardly be concei
ved. Rumor follows quick upon the heels
of rumor; yet no story can exceed the hor
rors of Indian warfare, as it is impossible
for language adequately to depict its reali
ties. It is stated of a man in flight with
his family from a supposed pursuit of Indi
ans in this war, that having got fresh intel
ligence of alarm by the less hasty flight of
others who had overtaken him, he took up
his boy from behind his wagon, tossed him
in, and ran forward to whip up his team,
when lo ! at the place of stopping, he found
that the violence of his action to save his
son, had killed him by breaking his neck !
When General Jessup had reported the
Creek war at an end, and drawing off his
troops into Florida to act against the Scnii
noles, contrary to the remonstrances of the
inhabitants of Alabama—who assured him
that the Indians were not all subdued, hut
that some hundreds were still lurking in
their hiding places—the war broke out a
fresh, with increased barbarity ; and the
Governor of Alabama, the Hon. Clement
C. Clay, now Senator in Congress, was for
ced to act with great vigor in mustering
fresh troops for the exigency, by enlisting
the citizens of the State into the service of
the United States. Gen. William Wellborn
received the command, acquitted himself
with great valor and honor, to the end of the
war.
Some time in the winter of 1836-7, Gen.
Wellborn heard of an encampment of Indi
ans on the banks of Pee River, near its con
fluence with Pee Creek, between the forks.
WASHINGTON, (WILKES COUNTY, GA.,) APRIL l->, IS 11.
With a company of two hundred and ten I
mounted men, he set off in search of the
foe. Having discovered and reconnoitred
their position,from the west bank of the Pee,
without being observed, he left one hundred
and twenty of his troops on the higher
grounds, about half a mile from the river, at
a point by which the Indians must retreat,
if dislodged, with instructions to cut them
ofl’whenever they should be driven in upon
[them. With the remainder, ninety men.
[he descended the river a few miles, and
crossed on a bridge below the confluence of J
the two streams, with a view to come round
and attack the Indians by surprise. Having
made his way across Pee Creek, bo found!
the access greatly impeded by low and wet|
grounds, it being a time of high water, and
several lagoons, or channels running from]
one river to the other, and at this time flood
ed : cane-breaks and palmetto thickets wen [
to be broken through, and various obstacles
peculiar to that wild retreat interposed. —
Nevertheless, the bravery and determina
tion of the troops surmounted all impedi |
moots, and they arrived at last on the bank
of a lagoon, on the other side of which was
[the Indian encampment, themselves screen
led from observation by a grove of palmettos,
[and favorable grounds,
j At this moment a firing was iieard in the
[direction where the one hundred and twen
ty troops had been left, and it was manifest
las none but women and children were to be
Is on on the opposite bank of the lagoon, that
jibe Indians had discovered the whites on the
[west side of the Pee, and had themselves
[become the assailants. This was the more
[painful to observe, that ‘.he firing grew rap
idly more distant, an indication that the In-
Jdians were victorious, and in pursuit.
| General Wellborn instantly conceived
[the project, as retreat was impossible, of
[placing his men in line as near the bank of
[the lagoon as he could, for a desperate on
[set on the return of the Indians ; and hav
ing given his orders, he retired to an emi
[nence about a quarter of a mile, and show
led himself to the women, who instantly rai
[sed the cry of 1 Esta-lladka ! Esta-Hadkaf’
| White man 1 White man !’ pointing to Gen.
[Wellborn, on the distant eminence. This
[alarm was rapidly conveyed by runners t<>
[the Indians now engaged on the other side
[of the Pee, and as soon as possible some 300
[warriors or more came rushing back, flush
led with victory, and full of vengeance.—.
[They seemed to know that they had routed
[the largest body of their opponents, and
[were eager to find the remainder. It was
[a critical moment when they stood upon the
[open ground, within gun shot ofGcn. W< 11-
[born's men, on the bank of the lagoon, do
[manding of the women where they had seer]
the white man. The Indians knew that the I
lagoon was fordable,but their opponents did I
not. At the moment they were about toj
rush in, and at a given signal, a well direc-j
ted fire was poured in upon them from the j
whole line, and they fell back, with a shoutl
of terror and discomfiture, into a pine woodj
about forty rods distant, leaving many ofl
their number dead upon the field.
It was evident that the fire told wejl, bull
no less certain, that the foe would soon ral |
jly, and return with a confidence of victory.
They knew there was no escape for the
white man, and that they had driven from
the field his strongest force. Violent speech
es of the chiefs and warriors were heard,
and understood. In about forty minutes, a
hideous yell of onset rang through the for
est, and the entire array of the Indian form
leaped upon the bank of the lagoon, to cross
and drive their assailants by closer fight.—
At. that moment they received a second
time the whole fire ofGen. Wellborn’s menl
from behind the palmettos, halted, stagger I
ed, and again fell back into the woods, lea
ving the ground strewed with their slain.—
Attain the rallying speeches were heard, &
Gen. Wellborn saw .that he and his men
must transfer the action to the other bank,
[or perish before a superior force. Believ
liiig, from the demonstrations of the Indians
[that the lagoon was fordable, ho ordered
[iwo men, at different points, to make the at
tempt, and if succeeded, the whole corps
[were to plunge in, form upon the opposite
[bank, and rush upon the foe.
It was but the work of a moment, and ev
ery man was in line. The conflict was des
perate and bloody. Women fought and
fell with the men. A single white man en
countered a warrior and two of his wives,
all three of whom were laid dead at his feet
by a necessity which he could not avoid, in
self-preservation. The Indians fled across
a bridge of trees which they had thrown
over the Pee, fighting and falling in their
retreat; and all that could, w-ere soon out
of the battle, leaving camp and spoils, the
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING
[wounded, the dying, and the dead. Scv
nty-three warriors, averaging six feet and
two inches in height, were counted in the
slain.
An old Chief, Apothlo-Oholo, who after
wards escaped in the night, being entirely [
disabled by the shot he had received in va |
rious parts of his body, fi ll into the river.|
as lie was attempting to cross the bridge o*’[
trees. lie clung to the branches, and buri-j
[ed himself entirely under water, while tin ]
[victors were crossing and re-crossing, du-|
ring and after the action. He lived to re-j
Cover of his wounds, joined his party, and]
C (forward made the following speech toj
Gen. Wellborn, at Conchatto-Mecco’stown,|
” hen about to emigrate with bis people :
| “4 on are a Great Chief. 1 have fought
[you as long as I could. You have beaten
[me. You have killed and taken nearly all
[my people. lam now ready to go : the
Cirther from you the better. We cannot
Cos friends, I thank you for taking care of
[my women, children, and wounded warri
ors, and for sending them back to me.—
[You are a Groat Chief.”
| In the sleeve of the coat of Apothlo-Oho
jlo, after the battle, were found twenty-eight
[hundred dollars, in gold ; and many spoils
[that had been taken from murdered white
[families, or pillaged from their deserted
[houses, were recovered. A roll of bank
[notes were also found. Most of the Indian
[ponies were left behind, and the whole of
[the next day was consumed in making pre
parations fora vigorous pursuit of the rou
ted Indians. Nine of the ninety engaged
[in this attack were killed. The careas , s
[of the Indians, we are sorry to learn, were
left without burial. The exasperated feel
ings of the troops, themselves citizens ol a
commonwealth doomed to the horrible atro]
cities of an Indian war, with their families
exposed, many of whom had already su!-
sered, must stand as an apology for no]
paying to a fallen enemy the usual respecti
of civilized warfare. It was a scene of ear
nage, left to the face of the sun, and to tin
eyes of the stars.
On the morning of the third day, a pu
suit of the retreating foe was ordered, the
It rail of which led them down the Pee, to
■the plantations of two brothers, Josiuh an
[Robert Hart, about forty miles below the
[battle ground above described. As tin v
[approached these settlements, it needed no
[prophet’s ken to anticipate the fate of these
[unhappy families. The Indians, still!
[counting scarcely less than two hundred
[warriors, came upon them the second night,
j Josiah Hart had a wife, a son, and two
[daughters, the youngest of whom, Mary]
[was nine years of age. The family ofj
[Robert Hart, living about a mile from libs
b other, consisted of himself, two sons, a[
married daughter, and son-in-law. Tin [
log cabin of Robert, as is usual in tha)|
country, was built in two separate parts,|
with an open space or court between, overj
w hich the roof of the building extended.]
ihc door of each part being in the middle]
of this court, opposite to each other.—]
Aware of the dangers to which he was ex |
posed, Mr. Hart had ‘chinked’ the logs, br-l
(ore open and admitting of being firedj
through by the musketry or rifles of an en
emy, leaving here and there a port hole,
through which the tenants might be able to
repulse assailants. He was also provided
with nine pieces of fire-arms, rifles, double
barrel and other, kept constantly charged,
and ready for a sudden emergency. In one
of these buildings, the whole family slept
by their arms and ammunition, while the
watch-dog kept his post without.
At the mid-hour of this fatal night, they
were suddenly awakened by the earnest
barking of the dog, and the simultaneous
yells of the Indians. The dog was soon
silenced by the rifles of the savages ; and
the subsequent stillness without, except
when interrupted by the occasional light
tread or sudden bound of the wily foe
around the house, reconnoitering, in pre
paration for the execution of his purpose,
was fearful. Having failed in their usual
stratagem of driving out the tenants of the
house in affright, by the yells of their on
set, in an opposite direction, where they
would be sure to fall into the hands of a
party in ambush, they sought opportunity
to make an attack through the crevices of
the logs which composed the walls of the
building. Not succeeding in this, for Un
reason before mentioned, and not venturing
yet to enter the court, for fear of a fire from
within, which had not yet opened upon
them, their next device was, to kindle a fire
under the side of the dwelling, by which,
if successful, they were sure of their prey.
This, however, they could not well do in
the dark, without becoming marks for an
[unseen hand. Accordingly, the first at
[tempt proved fatal to those engaged in it,
[and two or three Indians fell before the suiv
[aim of the rifle from within the walls.—
[Hour after hour, in painful suspense, pass
led away, with now and then a shot from
[either party, to little or no purpose, except
[that a chance ball from an Indian rifle
[fiiiind its way between the logs, and wound
led Mr. Hart’s daughter in the arm. Not
[daring to strike a light, they endeavored,
[as well as they could, to bind it up, and to
[staunch the blood. At length a lurid light|
[cast upon the clouds, discovered to Mr.
[Hart that his brothers house was in flames,
[and a yell of triumph broke from the horde
of savages by whom he and his children
were environed, secure, though less suc
cessful hitherto, in accomplishing the same
object. The flames rose higher, and threw
upon this besieged habitation a flood of
light, that compelled the besiegers to retire
behind the out houses for protection, as they
would otherwise be exposed to the fire of
Mr. Ilart and his sons.
Day dawned at last, and a desultory fire
was commenced, as chance invited, and as
an Indian head was exposed to view. Sev
eral of the Indians fell. Exasperated by
these failures, they resolved to set the house
on fire at any hazard. They collected
combustibles, chose their position, and rush
ed with (ire and kindling-wood under the
stick chimney of the house, where, as it
happened, the rifles from within could no
be brought to bear. The smoke was soon
felt in the house, and not a moment was to
be lost. Despair finds weapons ; and by!
the concert of an instant, a bold dev ice \va--[
■projected, to strike through the frail chim [
In y back on the heads of the Indians, am [
[by a sudden sortie, drive them from tin 9
■ field, to purchase to themselves an opportu I
[nity to escape to the Fort,about seven mile']
[distant. Itwasdone. Three or four Indi-j
[ans were killed, and the rest fled. In
[some two hours after, Mr. Hail and hi]
[children were all safely lodged in the For! j
■having left their house to pillage and fly m
Bio which it was doomed in the coui so of the:
■morning, so soon as the Indians had mu- i
S red a stronger force, and returned to re-1
■new the attack. Plunder was all they had
[to enjoy.
1 About thirty-six hours after the Indian, j
Bind quitted the plantation of the Hurts]
[which they had left a scene of ruin and ofj
[carnage, and descended the river, litth j
[dreaming of being pursued by t ho party
[whose power they bad felt two day s before,
[General Wellborn and his men came iu
[sight of the smoking ruins of Josiah Hart’s
[habitation and out houses. Not a living
[creature moved before their eyes, and eve
|ry aspect was that of desolation. From
[a party in the advance, so soon as they ap
preached the ruins, a cry of horror and
[vcno-eance arose, which broke the awful
[silence of the place; and each one as he
[came uear, was petrified at the spectacle
[which was presented. In a yard, a few
|rods from the house, lay the mangled and
[naked bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Ilart, their
[son and eldest daughter; and a little re
[rnoved from them, the body of Mary, also
[naked, with her skull apparently broken in
by a pine-knot, which lay by’ her side, cov
ered with scattered hair and blood. She
was lying upon her side, her person stabbed
in several places, from head to foot ; and
the blood of each wound extending in un
broken coagulation to the ground, which
had drunk the crimson streams. The sight
of Mary was not so fearful as that of the
rest of the family, though sufficiently
shocking. It was evident, that she had nev
er struggled or moved, from the moment
she was left in that position, thirty-six
hours before. Save her wounds, her ap
pearance was that of an innocent, marble
repose.
The mutilated and mangled condition of
the other members of the family was too
horrible to be recorded. Mr. Hart had been
pierced with many balls ; Mrs. Hart with
less; each had been shot ; and all were
covered and disfigured with ghastly wounds.
The spectacle filled the men with absolute
madness. They raved, stamped, ran to
and fro, struck the trees and stones with
their clenched hands, until the blood fol
lowed from their blows, without seeming to
feel the wounds they inflicted on them
selves; and they cried, ‘Vengeance 1 Ven
geance ! Vengeance !’ till all the region
rang with it, and loud enough to awake
the sleeping dead.
And it did awake the dead ! Surrounded
at this moment by a throng of these exas
perated beholders, who were looking upon
her innocent countenance, and raising
these fearful cries, but not having yet pre-
n. .i. si %ir i: i,, mmrr.
sumed to touch this relic of mortality, little
Mary Hart opened her eyes, turned up
her face, and said, audibly and distinctly,
‘ How they did beat us!’ and then closed
her eyes, and turned hack, elapsed again
in the same silent and death-like repose 1
The moment was awful, and the feeling of
the spectators entirely changed. The in
nocent victim was carefully approached,
tenderly lifted up, her wounds bathed, and
the proper surgical applications attached.
On examination, it was found that life was
not extinct; but she was so literally drain
ed of her blood, that no symptom of reviv
mg animation could he awakened. Wrap,
ped in a blanket, she was carried on hors -
back in the arms of General Wellborn to
the Fort, with little more sign of life than
when first taken from the ground, and was
committed he the charge of her uncle and
his family, whose escape has already been
narrated.
The troops started oft’ in hot pursuit ol
the flying foe, and after two day’s march
overtook them in Florida. Thirty-nine of
them were slain in the engagement that on
sued ; many prisoners were taken, with
the booty from the pillaged houses of the
Harts ; and the rest took (light to the town
of Colichatto-Mecco, where they surren
dered for emigration, and the Creek war
was ended.
Mary Ilart, by ineansof tender nursing,
and the restoring powers of nature, gradu
ally recovered. The indenture in the skull
proved not to boa fracture, and she is now
supposed to be as well if the massacre bad
■never happened. She is at this time twelve
Bor thirteen years of age, and sole heiress to
g:i great estate.
1 BATTLE OF TRENTON.
h From the mum:script of an cyc-icitness.
9 I had scarcely put my (not in the stirrup
B’ . lore an aid-de-camp from the commander-
B it: chief gallop; and up to me with a summons
Ito the side of Washington. 1 bowed in re
[ plv, and dashed up the road. The genera 1-
[ lu-chief was already on horse back, sur
round and by bis staff, and on the point of
| setting out. He was calm and collected,
■ is if in his cabinet. No sooner did lie sec
| mo than he waved his hand as a signal to
I halt. I checked my steed on the instant,
[and lifting my hat, waited for his com-
K mauds.
■ <• You arc a native of this country ?”
H “ Yes !—your excellency.”
“ You know the roads from M’Conkey’s
ferry to Trenton—by the river and Penning
ton—the bye-roads and all ?”
“As well as I know my alphabet,” and
f patted the neck of my impatient charger.
“ Then I may have occasion for you—
you will remain with the staff—ah! that is
a spirited animal you ride, Lieutenant Ar
cher,” he added smiling, as the fiery beast
made a demivolt, that set half the group in
commotion.
“ Your excellency—”
“ Never mind,” said Washington, smil
ing again, as another impatient spring of
my charger, cut short the sentence, “I see
the heads of the columns are in motion—
you will remember,” and waving his hand,
he gave the rein to his steed, while 1 fell
back bewildered into the staff
The ferry was close at hand, but the in
tense. cold made the march any thing but
pleasant. We all, however, hoped on the
morrow to redeem our country by striking
a signal blow, and every heart beat high
with the anticipation of victory. Column
after column of our little army defiled at
the ferry, and the night had scarcely set in
before the embarkation began.
At last we crossed the Delaware. The
whole night had been consumed in trans
portation of the men and artillery, and the
morning was within an hour or two of daw
ning before the last detachment bad been
embarked. As I wheeled my horse, on the
little bank above the landing place, I
paused an instant to look back through the
obscurity on the scene. The night was
dark, wild, and threatening, the clouds
betokened an approaching tempest —and
1 could with difficulty penetrate with my
eye, the fast increasing gloom. As I put
my hands across my brow to penetrate into
the darkness, a gust of wind, sweeping
down the river, whirled the snow in my
face, and momentarily blinded my sight.
At last I discerned the opposite shore amid
the obscurity—The landscape was wild
and gloomy. A few desolate looking
houses only were in sight, and they scarce
ly perceptible in the shadowy twilight.
The bare trees lifted their hoary arms on
high, groaning and creaking in the gale.
The river was covered with drifting ioe,
that now jammed with a crash together,
[VOLUME XXVI.