Part 3

“In this place our wild people sweated after the maner following: first heated stones till they were redd as fire, then they made a lantherne with small sticks, then stoaring the place with deale trees, saving a place in the middle, whereinto they put the stoanes, and covered the place with small covers, then striped themselves naked, went into it. They made a noise as if ye devil weare there; after they being there for an hour they came out of the watter. I thought veryly they weare incensed. It is their usual custom. * * * * In the night they heard some shooting, which made them embark themselves speedily. In the meanwhile they made me lay downe whilst they rowed very hard. I slept securely till morning, when I found meselfe in high rushes. There they stayed without noise.”

Now, this “rappid streame” was the Chambly Rapids.

This 3d village, in my opinion, was that site below Isle Aux Noix, in the parish of St. Valentine, which I have spoken of. Villages No. 1 and No. 2 I have never visited. The lake “imbellished with great forests,” was Champlain. The “fine sandy bancke, where not long before cabbanes weare errected,” was, I feel certain, this great dwelling place on Cumberland Bay. The heaps of fire stones that I have mentioned could easily have been those made use of by “our wild people” when they “sweated after the maner following:” and where Radisson found himself in “high rushes” the morning after, may have been at the mouth of the Ausable; or of the Lamoille, or of the Ouinooski.[3]

III

For some time I have endeavoured to make an annual visit to Fort Ticonderoga and its neighborhood. September, October and November, before the ground freezes, when the lake is usually the lowest, are the best portions of the year for searching there. On the shores between high and low water marks around the Ticonderoga promontory; at Wright’s Point and on the Orwell shore opposite, the earth is black with flints. These are arrow and spear heads, knives, hammer stones and immense quantities of flakes. But few of the implements are perfect. I account for this condition because of the great numbers of soldiers there in the old wars. As you know, it was their practice to select the best arrow and spear heads and break them into pieces suitable for their flintlocks. But the native flint exists in great abundance in the limestone rocks of the locality; and so it was that, for centuries, the Indians resorted to this region, lived there and made weapons and implements for their own use, and for traffic with other savages passing by. I have obtained 2500 chipped stone implements from these shores alone. One November day, 1896, two of us left Plattsburgh by train at 8.30 a. m., reached Fort Ticonderoga at 10.30, picked up 575 wrought flints, and returning, got home at 6.15 the same evening. So, while I have considered that the great dwelling site in Plattsburgh was the most important for the manufacturing of pottery, and probably had the largest population of any village in the valley, yet certainly the Ticonderoga region surpassed it in the making of chipped implements. On this day of which I speak, my companion stopped on Mount Independence, while I pushed over to the Orwell shore, perhaps a hundred rods away. And, by the way, let me say that the historic ruins on Mount Independence are nearly as interesting as those on the Ticonderoga promontory. I could not see the gentleman on the mountain because of the trees, but when I called out to him, not only his reply came to me, but my voice echoed back first, so quickly, so distinctly and with such force as to startle me. It was uncanny.

Turning again to the Jesuit Relations, this time to Volume 51, pages 179–183; in the Relation of 1667–68, written by Francis Mercier, we find an account of the experiences of Fathers Fremin, Pierron and Bruyas, three Jesuits, on the way to the Iroquois country. It was one of these fathers who wrote from Ste. Anne, Isle La Motte, August 12, 1667, the interesting letter, a translation of which was printed in the Burlington Free Press of August 22, 1902.

Father Mercier says: “The Fathers Fremin, Pierron and Bruyas having set out to go to the lower Iroquois—and having been detained for a long time in Fort Sainte Anne at the entrance to Lake Champlain * * * left the fort at last.” Then he quotes from their journal: “About four o’clock in the afternoon we embarked to go and take shelter at a league distance from the last fort of the French—which is that of Sainte Anne * * We gaily crossed this entire great lake, which is already too renowned by reason of the shipwreck of several of our Frenchmen, and, quite recently, by that of Sieur Corlart, commandant of a hamlet of the Dutch near Agnie, who, on his way to Quebec for the purpose of negotiating some important affairs, was drowned while crossing a large bay, where he was surprised by a storm. Arriving within three-quarters of a league of the Falls by which Lake St. Sacrament empties, we all halted without knowing why, until we saw our savages at the water side gathering up flints, which were almost all cut into shape. We did not at that time reflect upon this, but have since learned the meaning of the mystery, for our Iroquois told us that they never fail to halt at this place to pay homage to a race of invisible men who dwell there at the bottom of the lake. These beings occupy themselves in preparing flints, nearly all cut, for the passers by, provided the latter pay their respects to them by giving them tobacco. If they give these beings much of it, the latter give them a liberal supply of these stones. These water men travel in canoes, as do the Iroquois; and when their great captain proceeds to throw himself into the water to enter his palace, he makes so loud a noise that he fills with fear the minds of these who have no knowledge of this great spirit and of these little men. * * * The occasion of this ridiculous story is the fact that the lake in reality is often agitated by very frightful tempests, which cause fearful waves, and when the wind comes from the direction of the lake, it drives on the beach quantities of stones which are hard, and capable of striking fire.”

Now, this place where the fathers “sheltered themselves at a league’s distance” from Fort Sainte Anne, may have been Cumberland Head. The bay in which “Sieur Corlart” was drowned has been considered to be Willsborough Bay. Allow me to state that Arendt Van Corlaer (“Sieur Corlart”) came to his death in this very year, 1667, in which these Jesuits saw the savages at the water side gathering up flints. So the Indians 235 years ago had an established custom of picking up flint implements around Ticonderoga; the same practice that I have indulged in, perhaps quite as successfully without having to offer tobacco to a race of invisible men; and the “loud noises” which their “great captain” made when he proceeded to throw himself into the water to enter his palace and “which filled with fear the minds of those who have no knowledge of this Great Spirit and of these little men,” may have been an echo, like that marvelous one which came back to me from Mount Independence, on that November day, so loud and distinct as to seem uncanny.

* * * * *

I have thus grouped these three different parts although they may not be homogeneous. In some degree they unite the present with the early historic and prehistoric past of the Champlain Valley. I understand that the United States Government is soon to issue a large volume of Place-Names, and such work is highly to be commended. What an immense number our own localities could furnish to be thus preserved!

In the early Voyages, Journals, Relations and Letters are references to many known locations. But, for instance, should Radisson, or the Jesuit Relations or even Hadden, go to new editions during the next half century, the present notes, though copious, would seem meagre and inadequate, compared with what should then appear.

Concerning matters prehistoric, I hope I have said enough to reveal what a vast field for research lies almost untouched at our very doors.

DAVID S. KELLOGG, M. D.

Read before the Vt. Hist. Society.

LINCOLN.

A young backwoodsman, tall and strong of limb, We find him in the wilds of Illinois, So brave, so faithful oft men said of him, “A man while yet a boy.”

A man, indeed, while moving upward still, They gazed at his advance with wondering eyes, And saw his lofty aims, his steadfast will, With glad surprise.

He reached the summit in a crucial hour, When clouds and darkness hung above the land, And proved himself to all a man of power, Who could command.

He loved his country, not some special part More dear than others, but the glorious whole. He gave to save the Union, all his heart, His brain, his soul.

In one brief respite from the awful strain, The foul assassin’s bullet—then the end. And all the wide world mourned, and mourned in vain, The nation’s friend.

But was it all in vain, when proudly waves The flag he loved—full starred—from shore to shore? When North and South clasp hands o’er heroes’ graves, Would he ask more? MARY ISABELLA FORSYTH. _The Christian Intelligencer._

CAPTAIN ABRAHAM LINCOLN _versus_ PRIVATE LORENZO DOW THOMPSON

THE STORY OF A CELEBRATED CONTEST

While searching for material affecting the history of the Black Hawk War, of course I found the stereotyped version of the noted wrestling match between Captain Abraham Lincoln and an obscure private from the St. Clair company of Captain William Moore; the same published in Nicolay and Hay’s Life of Lincoln. But not until too late for my purpose did I secure its details with anything like accuracy. A long course of investigation has just rewarded me with the facts.

The match was celebrated, the State over, long before Lincoln became famous and it must be admitted a pleasure to turn from the serious man, to the early, robust Lincoln; the young man of stature and strength, informal as he was when just reaching man’s estate and in possession of his first prize in life.

It may seem ridiculous to class the modest office of captain of a company of sixty day volunteers, as a proud position, yet Leonard Swett has told us the day of Lincoln’s election to such a position in 1832, was the proudest of the latter’s life.

When Governor Reynolds called out the militia to remove Black Hawk and his band from Illinois soil, “dead or alive,” Abraham Lincoln as he has told us, was “out of a job,” and enlistment therein invited him to place, adventure and perhaps renown. A company of sixty-eight intractable spirits (two more were added subsequently), was organized in Sangamon County and enrolled on April 21st, of which Lincoln was elected captain and from which he was expected to exact discipline. His First Sergeant was John Armstrong, the gentleman who had undertaken with disastrous personal results, to introduce Lincoln to New Salem “life” through the medium of a wrestling match. William Kirkpatrick, said to have filched a cant-hook from Lincoln, as well as the latter’s rival in the contest for captain, was another. The Clary boys, Royal and William, who acted disagreeable parts at the Armstrong function, were of the number, while as though smiling at the joke of it, “Pleasant” Armstrong was another private. Finally from the sentimental side we find the names of John M. and David Rutledge to add to the list. Truly a picturesque crowd!

Once organized, the company was marched to Beardstown to be sworn into the service of the State by Inspector General John J. Hardin, where too the captain fell in with such men as O. H. Browning, Edward D. Baker, Adam W. Snyder, John Dement, Gov. Carlin and others who became famous in the history of the State and Nation. At that point the companies were formed into regiments and moved toward “The Yellow Banks” _en route_ for the mouth of Rock River where Captain Lincoln was to meet General Henry Atkinson, and Lieut.-Col. Zachary Taylor, as well as Lieutenant Robert Anderson, Lieutenant Jefferson Davis, Captain William S. Harney, Lieut. Albert Sidney Johnston and many others who were to be prominent in his future during the great crisis of our country.

In referring to the nights of that period, O. H. Browning in his journal of May 2d, wrote that they were “cold and tempestuous;” so that choice camping grounds, affording wood and water, were eagerly sought and when found, the scramble for their possession was spirited.

At, or just out of Beardstown, the companies of Captain Lincoln and Captain William Moore from St. Clair County, came upon just such a camping ground simultaneously and for its occupation a strife arose of course. With the propensity for free fights, usual to those days, it may appear miraculous at this day that such an affray was avoided; but as Captain Lincoln felt his official oats at the time and may have desired to reap a little personal advantage from the collision, he proposed to Captain Moore that “‘captain for captain,’ the matter should be settled by a match.”

But as every rule of wrestling forbade a contest so unequal, Captain Moore, who declined, suggested as a substitute the selection of a man from each company. That appeared fair enough and with a metaphorical chip on his shoulder Captain Lincoln selected himself to represent his company, while Captain Moore who was not an authority on “wrestling form,” turned over the function of selection to his brother, Jonathan Moore, Orderly Sergeant.

The latter knew his business even though a shout of derision went up from Lincoln’s men when the champion was produced. When led up for slaughter, the victim was found to be just above medium height and weight and so unobtrusive and guileless that I had almost forgotten to mention his name:—Lorenzo Dow Thompson of St. Clair County.

Captain Lincoln chortled and gave the upstart a look of such fine scorn that the poor fellow should have been sorry for living and had the affair been one of to-day we surely could have heard the captain shout “what a cinch!” when the books were opened for bets.

Jonathan Moore was called to referee the match which was to consist of “best two in three” falls. He tossed up a coin, winning choice of “holts” for Thompson, who chose “side holt.” Lincoln’s was “Indian holt,” and generally speaking it was a scrappy sort of a “holt” too. At once a great scramble followed among Lincoln’s men to lay their bets before Captain Moore’s men got “scart.” But Captain Moore’s men refused to get “scart.” In fact there was a very suspicious degree of firmness and unanimity in their opinion of “Dow” Thompson’s ability to take care of himself and any loose change his friends might put up on him; so up went powder-horns, guns, watches, coats, horses, pay-rolls and reputations until there remained not one solitary article of property in possession or expectancy thereof which had not been put into the pot on that match.

To increase the zest of his men for gaming, Captain Lincoln who was cock-sure of victory, had urged them to offer odds and discount the future all they could, and the men did it. Then the combatants grappled—side holt,—Thompson’s choice.

They see-sawed. The spectators shouted. Momentarily Lincoln’s men bantered Thompson with words of encouragement, “just to drag the sport out and get their money’s worth,” but when they discovered their error there appeared a temporary inspiration by the Clary boys to meddle. The Armstrong boys wanted to get busy as the contest proceeded, but before any of these meddlers could devise a plan, the long legs of the captain cleft the air and in the very next instant Thompson had him fairly upon the ground. The din which followed would have silenced a thunderstorm.

As said of the boy who fell down cellar:—he did not hurt himself, but _did_ hurt his new pants, so it might be said of the chagrined captain after that first fall. His person had not been harmed but the disaster to his feelings was something dreadful. Particularly harmful because the crowd to witness it had quadrupled several times, each installment adding a few words of humiliation. Defeat in the presence of a few friends would have been dreadful, but surrounded by an army and he a captain, it was a catastrophe. Even the swagger back to the center did not square it. His friends shouted: “That’s only one fall, while two more are due.” That encouragement did not place his confidence _in statu quo_. But he made his bluff by stating icily when he had secured his “holt:” “Now Mr. Thompson, it’s your turn to go down.”

The Indian hug or “holt” did not work at all however. In fact the patronizing captain was kept busy trying to keep his feet solid against the multitude of tricks which Thompson had up his sleeve to thwart the captain’s favorite “holt.” At last it was abandoned as altogether useless.

The redoubtable captain followed with a “crotch-holt,” but that terrible device was resisted as easily as water runs from a duck’s back. A trick called “sliding away,” was introduced, only to confirm the growing opinion of the spectators that the doughty wrestler from Sangamon had met his master.

A moment of indecision followed, the slipping of a mental cog, so to speak,—just enough to allow the despised St. Clair man to get in his fine work, and once more the legs of the valiant captain rose in the air and both men fell to the ground in a heap.

“Dog fall!” yelled Lincoln’s men.

“Fair fall!” retorted Moore’s men.

A free fight was imminent, but Lincoln, disgruntled and defeated though he was—in one fall at least—was a “good loser.” Springing to his feet before the referee could act, he cried: “Boys! The man actually threw me once fairly; broadly so, and this second time—this very fall, he threw me fairly though not apparently so.” That settled the matter and the frankness of the speaker saved him his reputation although his men had lost all their available property.

On the 8th day of August, 1860, Professor Risdon Marshall Moore, then of McKendree College (now of San Antonio, Texas), son of the referee, Jonathan Moore, called upon Mr. Lincoln at the latter’s house in Springfield with a delegation of college men, devotedly attached to Mr. Lincoln’s cause. In introducing Prof. Moore, Lieutenant Governor Koerner added, “of St. Clair County.”

Prof. Moore then stated: “Mr. Lincoln, we have called to see the next President.” To which Mr. Lincoln replied: “You must go to Washington to see the next President.”

During this and other conversation which followed, Mr. Lincoln eyed Prof. Moore constantly with a suspicious twinkle of the eye, after which he asked: “Which of the Moore families do you belong to? I have a grudge against one of them.”

Professor Moore replied with a still merrier twinkle: “I suppose it is my family you have the grudge against, but we are going to elect you President and call it even.”

There were present at that meeting the same O. H. Browning who had witnessed the match nearly thirty years before, Norman B. Judd, Richard J. Oglesby and some others, to all of whom Mr. Lincoln related the story as herein told, concluding with these words: “I owe that Moore family a grudge, as I never had been thrown in a wrestling match until the man from that company did it. He could have thrown a grizzly bear.”

Poor Thompson! He migrated to Harrison County, Missouri, and became its first representative in the General Assembly of the State in 1846 and was re-elected in 1848. He was also a member of the first grand jury of the county. Politically he was called an anti-Benton Democrat. Positive in all his convictions, he was called eccentric toward the end of his life, but all who knew him testify that he was able, upright and a good neighbor and citizen.

In 1875 he died in indigence at the age of 65 and his body lies in Oakland cemetery six miles north of Bethany.

Singularly enough, we are told that to the same point migrated one Peter Rutledge who claimed to be brother to Ann Rutledge.

In the early history of Illinois, the Moores were known as the “fighting Moores,” by reason of their daring in the Indian war of 1812–14 and the border troubles which were constantly menacing our frontier.

Jonathan Moore who was born in Georgia, Nov. 20, 1799, was one of the number. He moved to Illinois in 1812, served in the Black Hawk War and enlisted in the Mexican War, but his company was rejected because troops enough had already been sent to the front.

At the breaking out of the Civil War, he enlisted and was made captain of company “G” Thirty-second Illinois Infantry and served at Shiloh and other hard fought engagements.

CHICAGO. FRANK E. STEVENS.

P. S.—I wish to express my indebtedness to Gen. Henry Cadle, of Bethany, Mo., for valuable favors connected with this story.

SIDE-LIGHTS ON CAROLINA HISTORY

My object in the following paper is not to present a summary of South Carolina history, enumerating well-known dates and facts already recorded by much better writers, but rather to furnish sundry varied items of information which, while not themselves entitled to rank as history, may yet serve a useful purpose as side-lights upon history proper.

South Carolina has always occupied an almost unique position in the family of States. Geographically small, numerically weak, she has nevertheless managed to make her influence felt throughout the Federation.

Thus much concerning her is known to the world at large, but the very peculiar conditions which existed for many years within her borders are not so generally known to outsiders. Yet it is these conditions which to a great extent moulded State character and influenced State politics. Indeed they are the key without which it would be impossible to explain many anomalies, in both her political and social history.

Presenting an unbroken front to the world, a solid unit on all questions of national policy, within herself she was divided into two jarring and irreconcilable factions. How this sectional antagonism originated, or when it first showed itself it is impossible to say. But the unnatural animosity once developed, the exceptional conditions existing in the State were unfortunately calculated to aggravate and perpetuate it. The root of the evil was that old grudge of the mass against class. Broadly speaking, the wealth and cultivation of South Carolina were confined to a single section of the State instead of being scattered throughout the whole. Orders and degrees of men have existed in all times and in all lands, but in South Carolina they were, so to speak, geographically distributed—the “orders” being found in the interior, and the “degrees” along the sea-board.

Thus, socially considered, a very broad line of demarcation separated the State into two distinct sections; and in many respects in manners, in habits, even in speech, the people of the two differed widely one from the other.