GODEY'S LADY'S BOOK
Philadelphia, March 1850

HEROIC WOMEN OF THE REVOLUTION.

BY MRS. E. F. ELLET.

JANE GASTON. *

" THE old homestead," that was the residence of Justice John Gaston – a place memorable for the resolution to which the members of his family so solemnly pledged themselves, to die rather than submit to the invaders – is now the home of his daughter-in-law. It seems fitting that the soil thus consecrated to the memory of brave men, who were active in the national struggle for freedom, should be still in the possession of a representative of those times – a living witness of the horrors of civil strife. Jane Gaston is the widow of Joseph Gast', whose blood mingled with that of his three brothers–David, Ebenezer, and Robert – on the battle-field of Hanging Rock, August 7th, 1780. It was her lot to pass her early years in the midst of distress and suffering, from the privations incident to war and the cruelty of bloody foes; but her life has been prolonged beyond the term of fourscore years, enabling her to see her country rise from its calamities into a prosperity far beyond what the most ardent patriot could have anticipated. Since the period of her trial.', which are linked with America's history, she has been crowned with blessings through her lengthened life, and happy in the respect and affection of a numerous circle of friends, many among whom have listened with interest to her oft-repeated account of the events her childhood witnessed.

Jane Brown, the subject of this notice, was born April 10th, 1768, in the county of Mecklenberg, North Carolina, where her parents, Walter and Margaret Brown, had first settled after their emigration from the county of Antrim, in Ireland. When Jane was about a year old, they removed to Chester District, South Carolina, and fixed their home upon Fishing Creek, about two miles south of the mill-seat now owned by Major N. R. Eaves.

In the early part of June, 1780, John Brown, the brother of Jane, then about seventeen years old, joined a company under the gallant John McClure, the first patriot in that region who ventured to take up arms after the fall of Charleston, and the leader of his fellow-citizens in opposition to British aggression. Mr. Brown, the father of this youthful hero, was at this time not more than fifty-five, but in very feeble health. The first attack upon the British, who then looked upon the whole State as conquered, was made at Beckhamville (see sketch of Esther Walker), the next at Mobley's Meeting-house. It will be remembered that, after the defeat sustained at the latter place, a strong party of the British and loyalists was sent, under the command of Captain Huck, in pursuit of McClure and those who had joined him. The Whigs retreated through York District, receiving accessions as they went; Colonels Bratton and Hill made a stand at Hill's iron-works; but finding themselves greatly outnumbered by the enemy, they gave only a few fires and continued their retreat. The British obtained possession of the iron-works, and immediately destroyed them by fire; while, pressing onward, they drove the little force of the Americans back as far as Lincolnton, North Carolina. About this time, Colonel Locke, of North Carolina, defeated a large party of Tories under Colonel Moore, at Ramsour's Mill. The Whigs, gaining strength. every day, now turned upon Captain Huck, who, in his turn, retreated, making not much delay till he and his men were again safe in the stronghold of Rocky Mount.

On this first incursion of the royal troops into the remote parts of the State, many outrages were committed by them upon the helpless families where they passed. On Sunday morning, June 11th, 1780, the troops under Huck arrived at the house of Mr. Strong, near Fishing Creek church. They immediately entered and plundered the house of everything, carrying away also the corn and wheat. Some of the grain being accidentally scattered in the yard, a tame pigeon flew down and picked it up. The brutal captain struck the bird, cutting off' its head at a blow with his sword; then, turning to Mrs. Strong, he said: "Madam, I have cut off' the head of the Holy Ghost." Mrs. Strong replied, with indignation: "You will never die in your bed, nor will your death be that of the righteous." The prediction thus uttered was signally fulfilled, in the defeat and death of Huck, recorded in the sketch of Martha Button. Mrs. Strong was a sister of old Justice Gaston.

After this insult to the lady of the house, some of Huck's men went to the barn, where her son, William Strong, had gone shortly before their arrival. He had taken his Bible with him, and was engaged in reading the sacred volume. They shot him dead upon the spot, and dragged him out of the barn. The officers then began to cut and hack the dead body with their broadswords, when Mrs. Strong rushed from the house, pleading, with all a mother's anguish, to the officers, that they would spare the corpse of her son. They heeded not her agonized entreaties, till she threw herself upon the bleeding and mangled body, resolving to perish, as he had done, by the cruel hands of her enemies, rather than see her child cut to pieces before her eyes. Such outrages were of common occurrence; and the example set by the officers of the royal army, in the slaughter of boys of too tender an age to become soldiers, and in the plundering of houses defended only by women or aged men, gave encouragement to the loyalists who followed their banner to practice similar cruelties. Robbery, spoliation, and murder, were everywhere the order of the day; and the vengeance of the Tories was particularly visited upon those suspected of favoring the cause of the country, or who had relations in arms under the Whig standard.

The brother of our heroine being one of McClure's band, the house of Mr. Brown was occasionally visited by gangs of robbers, sometimes in the dead hours of night, and his life often threatened. One day, a large party came to the house, plundered it. tore up the floor, and carried away several large bolts of homespun cotton, taking the cords of the beds to tie up their plunder. The same party of marauders went to the house of Mr. David Elliot, in the neighborhood, and robbed it of everything they could find. Mr. Elliot offered no resistance, nor remonstrance, till they proceeded to bridle one of his best horses; he then interfered, laying his hand upon the rein. He was instantly shot dead. His son Ebenezer, terrified, fled! from the murderers; but Margaret, the daughter, walked boldly up, jerked the bridle rein from the Tory's hand, and pulled it off the horse. The man threatened to kill her; she defied him. The murderers, however, did not venture to stay long, probably fearing they might be surprised by some of the neighbors. They departed, and Margaret, missing her brother, went over to Mr. Brown's to ask if they bad seen anything-of him. The family had heard the report of the gun, and feared that some mischief was going on at Elliot's house. Margaret learned that they had seen nothing of her brother, and then burst into a flood of tears, exclaiming: "Oh, they have killed my father!" " Oh, my father!" she would repeat, again and again, in agony: "They have wickedly killed him without cause!" It may be mentioned, that this David Elliot was the father of James Elliot, Clerk of the Court of Fairfield District, at Winnsboro', S.C.. and grandfather of Professor Elliot, of Bloomington, Indiana.

Mr. Brown and his family, already stripped of everything they possessed, gave all requisite attention to the burial of their neighbor. It was then necessary to seek a place of greater safety for themselves. Mr. and Mrs. Brown, with their children, Jane, Walter, Robert, and an infant that died young, set out on foot, on their journey, early in June. Well said the old song –

The fugitives traveled about thirty miles, and sought shelter at the house of David Haynes, whose wife, Molly Caruth, was one of their relations. While they remained there, the Whigs, who had been driven back by the British, returned, and formed a camp not far below, on Clem's Branch, in the upper edge of Lancaster District. At this time, Alexander, a son of old Mr. Haynes, was about starting to join the fighting men in this camp. When his mother bade him adieu, she gave her parting counsel in the words, "Now, Alick, fight like a man! Don't be a coward!" Such was the spirit of those matrons of Carolina! After two weeks had elapsed, Alexander was brought home from the battle of Rocky Mount badly wounded in the face. Mrs. Haynes received him without testifying any weakness or undue alarm, and seemed proud that he had fought bravely, and that his wound was in front. He was taken thence to Charlotte.

The hospital being not far from the house of Mr. Haynes, Jane Brown went frequently, with others, to see the wounded soldiers. Many of the wounded of Beaufort where there; and disabled men from the battles of Rocky Mount and Hanging Rock were lying in rude log-houses, upon boards covered with straw, and laid across the sleepers for their resting-place. The subject of this notice remembers seeing the soldiers there, maimed and suffering; some having but one arm, some having lost a leg, and some deprived of both arms, or both legs. She heard them laughing and joking with one another: and her attention was particularly attracted to one who had lost both arms, and was threatening to knock down a fellow-sufferer. It was common thus to see cheerfulness manifested in the midst of misfortune, by these martyrs to liberty. Mrs. Gaston also remembers well having seen there her neighbors, Henry Bishop and the gallant John McClure, both severely wounded.

On the approach of Cornwallis to Charlotte, Mr. Brown took his family and went further north, to the house of James Haynes, a brother of David, who lived upon the road leading north of Cowan's Ford, on the Catawba River, Here Mr. Brown procured an out-house on the plantation, for the accommodation of his family. While they remained here, Morgan passed with his prisoners – in January, 1781 – and was soon afterwards followed by the British in pursuit. These last stopped at the house of James Haynes, plundered it, and made the owner 'a prisoner. There happening to be eight or ten bushels of meal in the house, they took the bed-ticks, emptied them, and carried off the meal in them. Mrs. Haynes, thus forced to part with her husband, sent for Mrs. Brown to come and stay with her; and she came with her children. The afflicted matron herself conducted family worship that night. She prayed fervently for peace; but she prayed especially for the deliverance and freedom of her country; invoking the interposition of s protecting Providence for the rescue of her captive husband. "God prosper the right!" was frequently repeated by her in the prayer. It seemed that her earnest petition was providentially answered. Late on the following evening, Mr. Haynes arrived at his home, nearly exhausted with fatigue.

The next morning, as nothing in the way of provisions remained on the premises, Mrs. Brown went into the meal-room and swept up the meal scattered on the floor, from which she prepared a little hasty-pudding for the children. These and similar scenes are indelibly impressed upon the memory of one who bore such a part in the hardships undergone by her kindred. The scene of violence was for the present changed – the British forces being occupied in the pursuit of Greene. The following verse of a popular Revolutionary song was appropriate: –

Mr. Brown now resolved on returning home, knowing that his countrymen had bravely and successfully maintained their cause against fearful odds, and that order would soon take the place of the desolation spread by unbridled rapine throughout the country. The family went back, and learned many strange things that had happened since their flight. John, the brother of Jane, coming home from camp, had gone over on Rocky Creel; to the house of hi» uncle, David McQueston, the only relative he had in the country. The loyalists dogged and followed him; and soon after, arriving at the house, called at the door. McQueston pushed the young man into a back room, and then opened the door. ,The Tories entered, went into the back room and searched it; but, missing the corner in which he was concealed, went back to the fire inquiring for him. John heard their questions, and fearing they might bring a light and discover him, slipped out at the back door. As he sprang over the fence, they caught a glimpse of, arid shot at him. He made his escape, however, unhurt.

Other incidents of the kind were detailed in the hearing of the returned family. During their absence, many of their acquaintances had fallen in battle; many had been killed in their own houses; some had perished in Camden jail; and some had been taken to Charleston and put on board the prison ship. It was the period of Tory ascendancy; the friends of American liberty were hunted like deer, and chased from one place of shelter to another; the camp was the only place of safety. High-handed robbery and murder were committed daily, by a set of outlaws who styled themselves British subjects, and took advantage of the general state of confusion to gratify their love of plunder and bloodshed. Among the most noted of these desperadoes were two, Wood and Warren, who, having been the terror of the country for the outrages they perpetrated, pursued their Vocation rather longer than it was safe to do so. It had not, apparently, occurred to them that, after the royal troops had taken their departure, some of the Whigs might venture back to the houses from which they had been driven, and that they might chance to be surprised in their accustomed avocation of rapine. While they were intent on this, it happened that Hugh Knox and William (commonly called Governor William) Knox, reaching home, heard that these fellows were in the neighborhood carrying on their old business. Following their trail, they came to the house of Ann McKeown, and questioned her as to the direction in which the marauders had gone, She expressed apprehension for the safety of "the Knox boys;" for she knew Wood and Warren to be desperate characters, well armed with gun and sword, always ready, and appearing to fear nothing.

"They have done a heap of killing," she observed; "and what, my boys, can you do with such men?"

" We will put a stop to them, if we get up with them," replied William Knox.

Ann then informed them that the men had gone in the direction of Alexander Rosborough's house. "And it is likely," added she, " that they will kill him as they have done others."

"Governor Knox" answered –

" Upon my modesty" – (a favorite phrase of his) – "we must be going!"

"Well, my lads," said the woman, "here is a cup of old rye whisky, It will keep your blood warn' while you are engaged in a good deed." As they went off; she shouted, at the top of her voice: " Success – success to you, my brave boys!"

It was growing late; the sun was sinking low in the west, and the shadows stretched, far along the ground. Wood and Warren were busy, in their work at Rosborough's, having tied him hand and foot, while they went through the house collecting plunder; and bidding him pray, as his time was short – his life depending on the quantity of goods he might possess. As the desperadoes were ascending the stairs, the shadows of the Knox boys fell upon the logs of the building. The fumes of the whisky making them less cautious, they had come up on the wrong side of the house. The robbers thus got the start. Wood, having his fusil swung on his shoulder, put it through one of the cracks, and aimed at one of the Knox boys. His gun flashing, he missed fire; and both then started to run. Hugh Knox fired after Warren and slightly wounded him; the two then closed in a fierce struggle, on which their lives depended The conflict was long and hard; in the mean while, Wood ran through the fields, and Governor Knox close after him.

"Upon my modesty," said the governor, in relating the occurrence, ': I did not like to shoot the poor devil running. I just wanted to take him prisoner, and let Captain Steel try him by King's Mountain law; but, as he jumped the fence, I struck at him to stop him, and it proved an unlucky blow. I happened to strike a little too hard, and killed him! When I returned, Hugh had mastered his man, and was washing himself, being as bloody as a butcher, Going into the house, I unbound Rosborough, without thinking that he would be in a passion. He took one of the guns and struck Warren, and was as unlucky as myself; for he broke his skull. I felt bad, for I disliked the killing of prisoners."

William never told this without shedding tears; and always concluded his narration with – "Upon my modesty, I never could kill a prisoner!" So it turned out, however; and they had both the robbers to bury. When they had dug the grave, Hugh Knox would have his own way, and placed both the bodies with the face downwards, saying: "Let them go down to h –, whither their doings will carry them!"

This incident may serve to illustrate the state of the times. It was not long, however, before the patriots had driven off the most notorious of the marauders; and those whose crimes were pardonable having been suffered to remain on the promise of reformation, the disorder and confusion everywhere prevalent were exchanged for a better state of things. The militia was regulated, and every man required to do his duty by serving his country when called upon.

When the father of our heroine returned to his home, in the winter of 1781, he had to begin the world afresh. John came back after the battle of Eutaw, having been in most of the battles of that season. When the war was over, he assisted his father in his business; but, as he intended to pursue a course of study, he enlarged his means by teaching school; and was one of a number of young men who organized a debating society. They made a collection of all the books they could procure, and established a circulating library. While John thus availed himself of every opportunity of improvement, aided by his father with every means in his power, his mother and Jane were active and unwearied in their efforts to assist him, and provide in every way, by their industry and care, for his comfort.

Although young at the time of the war, it will be seen that this daughter of a patriotic fancily not only bore her part in privation and suffering, but contributed her aid in doing good to the defenders of her country's rights. On the 20th April, 1790, Jane Brown was married to Joseph Gaston, the youngest son of Justice John Gaston. The homestead was the inheritance of' Joseph, both his father and mother being dead at the time of his marriage. This union was in every respect a suitable one; both had endured, severe trials throughout the Revolutionary contest, and had been stripped of all their worldly possessions; yet both were favored with a vigorous constitution and unimpaired energy of mind, with active and industrious habits – an excellent foundation with which to commence the world anew. Both had been reared in the instruction of the Presbyterian Church, and had imbibed the principles of the Roundhead faith; the conduct of both through life was guided by principle – that principle being drawn from the precepts of' the Bible. Joseph Gaston was a ruling elder in his church from youth,. and was also placed in the magisterial office when very young, continuing to exercise its duties till his death. He spent a long life on the plantation where he was born, uniformly respected by all who knew him, and died October 10th, 1836. His family consisted of two sons and four daughters, all of whom were married before his death, except his youngest son, Captain J. A. H. Gaston, who still lives with his mother at the old homestead.

Mrs. Gaston is truly, to use her own words, "blessed in her children." Of those who began life at the same period with herself, and have passed through so many changes, how few can say that, within fifteen miles of the parental residence, live all the children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren! Mrs. Gaston has lost but one daughter, who left ten children. And while most other families are divided and dispersed, their members emigrating to the far West, or scattered over different parts of the world, her children seem to have been bound by some powerful attraction to the spot of their nativity, a spot hallowed by so many interesting recollections – and cling to their venerable parent with a devotion which is only equaled by her maternal affection for them.

If it is a commonly received truth, that the children of believing parents are the seed of the church, it is equally true that the "expectancy of the State' is of those who are descended from the patriots whose lives have been devoted to the service of their country. Walter Brown, the brother of Mrs. Gabon, though but a child in the Revolutionary struggle, served in the succeeding war, being sent from Tennessee, and died in the camp, leaving six orphan children, one of whom is Dr. Robert Brown, of Winston county, Mississippi. Isaiah Walker Lewis, the grandson of Mrs. Gaston, was one of the Chester volunteers in the Palmetto Regiment of South Carolina, that served in the war with Mexico. He was the first victim in the regiment of the fatal disease which left but a remnant to return to their homes, and died in Charleston shortly after the arrival there of the regiment. His remains were cent to hi» widowed mother, who could say, when he was committed to the burial-place where rest so many of the brave men of the Revolution – in Fishing Creel; churchyard – in the language of her grandmother: "I grieve for the death of my son; hut he could die in no better cause than in supporting the honor of his country."

In person, Mrs. Gaston is of the medium size, inclining to stout, with a noble countenance, and combining great dignity with ease of manner; bearing, it is said, a striking resemblance to her brother, the Rev. J. Brown, D. D. She retains, in remarkable vigor, the faculties of her mind, and has an unusual flow of spirits for one so advanced in years. It is a pleasing sight to see this venerable matron surrounded by her numerous throng of children's children, all happy in their relations one with another, and enjoying the rational and pleasant discourse of her who is so highly respected and so tenderly beloved among them. Even now, in the eighty-second year of her age, when she speaks of the trials and perils encountered by her own family, and her acquaintances, during the Revolution, her interest in the theme brings new fire to her eye, and gives a deeper energy to her language; she describes those days with graphic vividness, and often, with earnest thankfulness, pauses to congratulate those around her upon their freedom from political and religious oppression, and to exhort them to a suitable improvement of the great privileges of their day and generation. Being thus able to look back on a long life spent in the promotion of good to others, she enjoys rest in the remnant of her days, grounded in the humble faith of a Christian, expecting ere long to be called hence by the Master she has served, to reap the reward of her course of virtue end piety, in the future of never-ending happiness to which she looks as her portion through the merits of a Redeemer.

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