Adventure | Science Fiction | Ghost stories | Poetry | Children | History BookOpen Original Text cut off all escape,
General Jackson opened his artillery upon the breastworks, and having
but in part demolished them, ordered forward the thirty-ninth regiment
to carry the place by storm. The van was gallantly led by Col.
Williams, Col. Bunch, Lieut.-Col. Benton, and Maj. Montgomery. Amidst
a most destructive fire, they pressed to the breastworks, and
desperately struggled for the command of the port-holes. But Maj.
Montgomery, impatient at the delay, cried out to his men to follow
him, and leaped upon the wall in face of the deadliest fire. For an
instant he waved his sword over his head in triumph, but the next fell
lifeless to the ground, shot through the head by a rifle ball. A more
gallant spirit never achieved a nobler death, and the name of the
young Tennesseean is preserved as a proud designation by one of the
richest counties, as well as by one of the most flourishing cities, in
the State whose soil was baptized by his blood!
The breastworks having been carried by storm, the Indians fell back
among the trees, brush, and timber of the peninsula, and kept up a
spirited contest. But, in the meantime, a portion of Coffee's command,
and some of the friendly warriors under their distinguished chief,
McIntosh, had swum across the river, fired the village of Tohopeka,
and carried off the canoes of the enemy. The followers of Weatherford
now became desperate, and from the banks, hollows, and other
fastnesses of the place, fought with fury, refusing all offers of
quarter. The fight continued in severity for five hours; and the going
down of the sun was hailed by the survivors as furnishing them some
chance of escape. But the hope was, in the main, deceptive. . . .
. . . Not more than twenty warriors are believed to have escaped,
under cover of the night. Among these, strange enough, was the
chieftain [Weatherford], whose appellation, "the Murderer of Fort
Mims," had formed the watch-word and war-cry of his enemies in this
very engagement. Favored by the thick darkness, he floated down the
river with his horse, until below the American lines, and then
reaching the shore, made his way in safety to the highlands south of
the Tallapoosa. . .
Weatherford could not consent to fly from the nation; he felt that he
owed it, as a duty to his people, not to abandon them until peace was
restored. In this state of mind he was apprised that the American
commander had set a price upon his head, and refused peace to the
other chiefs, unless they should bring him either dead, or in
confinement, to the American camp, now at Fort Jackson, near the
junction of the rivers. His determination was at once taken in the
same spirit of heroism that always marked his conduct. Accordingly,
mounting his horse, he made his way across the country, and soon
appeared at the lines of the encampment. At his request, a sentinel
conducted him to the presence of the commander-in-chief, who was
seated in his marquee, in consultation with several of his principal
officers. The stately and noble appearance of the warrior at once
excited the attention and surprise of the General, and he demanded of
the Chief his name and the purpose of his visit.
In calm and deliberate tones, the chieftain said: "I am Weatherford. I
have come to ask peace for myself and for my people."
The mild dignity with which these words were uttered, no less than
their import, struck the American commander with surprise. [He hardly
knew what to do; but he allowed some parley and Weatherford made a
speech, ending thus:] "General Jackson, you are a brave man: I am
another. I do not fear to die. But I rely on your generosity. You will
exact no terms of a conquered and helpless people, but those to which
they should accede. . . . You have told us what we may do and be safe.
Yours is a good talk and my nation ought to listen to it. They _shall_
listen to it!" . . .
General Jackson acceded to the demands of Weatherford, and assured him
of peace and safety for himself and people.
PHILIP PENDLETON COOKE.
~1816=1850.~
PHILIP PENDLETON COOKE, the elder brother of the better known John
Esten Cooke, was born in Martinsburg, Virginia, and spent his short
life happily in his native county, engaged in field sports and in
writing stories and poems for the "Southern Literary Messenger" and
other magazines. His lyric, "Florence Vane," has been very popular and
has been translated into many languages. He was said to be stately and
impressive in manner and a brilliant talker. Philip Pendleton and John
Esten Cooke were first cousins of John Pendleton Kennedy, their
mothers being sisters.
His death was caused by pneumonia contracted from riding through the
Shenandoah on a hunting trip.
WORKS.
Froissart Ballads and other Poems.
John Carpe.
Gregories of Hackwood.
Crime of Andrew Blair.
Chevalier Merlin [unfinished].
FLORENCE VANE.
I loved thee long and dearly,
Florence Vane;
My life's bright dream, and early,
Hath come again;
I renew, in my fond vision,
My heart's dear pain,
My hope, and thy derision,
Florence Vane.
The ruin lone and hoary,
The ruin old,
Where thou didst hark my story,
At even told,--
That spot--the hues Elysian
Of sky and plain--
I treasure in my vision,
Florence Vane.
Thou wast lovelier than the roses
In their prime:
Thy voice excelled the closes
Of sweetest rhyme;
Thy heart was as a river
Without a main.
Would I had loved thee never,
Florence Vane!
But fairest, coldest wonder!
Thy glorious clay
Lieth the green sod under--
Alas the day!
And it boots not to remember
Thy disdain--
To quicken love's pale ember,
Florence Vane.
The lilies of the valley
By young graves weep,
The pansies love to dally
Where maidens sleep;
May their bloom, in beauty vying,
Never wane,
Where thine earthly part is lying,
Florence Vane!
[Illustration: ~University of Kentucky (Main Building).~]
THEODORE O'HARA.
~1820=1867.~
THEODORE O'HARA, son of an Irish exile, was born in Danville,
Kentucky, and educated at St. Joseph Academy, Bardstown, where he
taught Greek to the younger classes while finishing his senior course.
He read law, was appointed clerk in the Treasury Department at
Washington, 1845, and on the outbreak of the Mexican War entered the
army as a soldier, rising to be captain and major. At the close of the
war, he returned to Washington and practised law. He was afterwards
editor of the "Mobile Register," and of the Frankfort "Yeoman," in
Kentucky, and was employed in diplomatic missions. He was a colonel in
the Confederate Army, and after the war, settled in Georgia. On his
death the Kentucky Legislature passed a resolution to remove his
remains to Frankfort and lay them beside the soldiers whom he had so
well praised in his "Bivouac of the Dead;" and there he rests, the
soldier bard, among the voiceless braves of the Battle of Buena Vista.
This poem was written for the occasion of their interment; and it has
furnished the lines of inscription over the gateways of several
military cemeteries. Previous Next |