The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1875-11-03

but tne W llSolS bau passed aWal
from Ashton; aud, like many stronl
families, had suffered a sharp descen
from prosperous days to obscuritl
aud almost axtinctlon. The gossip
shook their heads again over thi
decadence, and mambled anothe
tradition to account for It.
Far back of the profane patrio
squire there was al ancestor ye
more strange. 1t was in the day
when Ashton and many wooded
leagues beside were held by Captain
Wilson with other eolonists wht
owned him leader. These were day.
when men went 10 the plow with ;
gun slung from the shoulder
as well as a goad in the hand, anC
when the muskets were stacked in tht
isle Of the church for use in repeIline
any sudden assault of the Indian foe
On Sunday night, so the story
ran, the great attack was made who's,
memory is preserved in the name ot
Black River. The settlers made
their last stand upon its banks. o.
those who fell dead among the ruins
of their burning houses, aud of those
who fed to the woods 10 return after
many days, famished and half frozen,
TO the ashes Of their homes, the
records of Ashton preserve the full
list The Mary Wilson of those davs
was among this number. When
Captain Wilson, coming back from
his mission to the neighboring settle
ment lower down the valley, search
ed the blackened foundations Of his
dwelling, be found neither cbarred
corpse nor rautilated body. His
daughter was gone, and he mourned
without hope
1t was years after, when a treach-
erous peace ruled between the colo
nists and the Indians, that a woman
wearing a blanket aud with uncover
ed head, came TO ais door and claim
ed him as father. She carried the
degrading marks Of Indian servitude,
and she told him of children born to
her in Indian wedlock, and Of home
under the hide covered poles of the
wigwam. They clad her once more
in the skirts of civilized womanhood.
the tradition goes on to say; wept
over her, wondering at her strange
stoicism; placed ner again on her
right hand at the table, and
took her to the family seat in the
meeting house. The Bible, over
which the stern captain leaned as be
offered up the prayer of thanksgiving
for release from captivity, was that
evening wet with unaccustomed tears.
Bat in tie morning the wanderer
was gone. She had wrapped her
blanket about her and stolen away
in the night
Again il was years before word came
from Mary Wilson. A boy, through
whose copper colored skin shone the
bright Caucasian blood, brought a
leaf torn from the gospel of St. John,
upon whose narrow margin was
scrawled her story The tribe was
smitten with smallpox Husband,
children all had died. She herself
was dying, and this, and her eldest
son only renamed Might the God
Of the Bible and Of her fathers turn
the hearts Of their grandparents to
this, her offspring of the wilderness.
The rigid policy of the colony de-
manded that the infected youth
should be driven forth. 1t was his
grandfather who shielded him in
close seclusion until it became evil
dent that the pestilence had passed
him by, and was received as 4 brand
from the burning, as one especially
reserved 5y Providence for great
things,
Here the details Of tradition cease.
History steps in to tell US how the
half-breed grandson of Captain VIII
son continued the family that must
otherwise have become extinct, and
how his descendants held high place
in all the colony.
If there be recurrent periods in
hereditary characteristics, it might
be said that the wild, restless, i'm
prOvident Indian nature had reap
peared in the latter generations of
the Wilson's The name which held
a prominent place on every tax list
from the days when the yearly dues
were paid in corn, had finally disap-
peared with the death of Mary's faith
er. TIE property had long since
been absorbed by new eomers. Old
heads alone now retained memory
of what the Wilson's bad been. Mary,
the last Of the line, was as solitary
and estranged in the midst of the
multitude as her ancestress in the
wilderness.
Rising from the darkness Of abo-
riginal psgansm. the race seemed
about to sink now in the night Of
civilized bsFbarism. Many Of the
as well as the misfor-
tunes Of the doomed Indian repro
duced themselves in this girl. Un-
educated, impetEoRs, fierce in her
preiudicas, and headstrong in her
oonfdences, she was by nature set
apart fr0mlthe crowd Of New Eng
land factory girls among whom she
lived and struggled. Her one wild
passion had for its object the young
night watchman at the mill. Her
affection, equally rash and equally
strong. was lavished On the common
place girl by whose side she walked
through the gloom TO the dingy
boarding house. For either Of these
she would yield, do, or endure any
thing.
"You shan'n't lose your place,
Aggie," were goodnight words at
parting.
There was but one way 10 which
she could make her assurance good
The discharge had been long impend-
ing. The times were hard, the
market over-stocked, the mills losing
money. Personal solicitations, had
the poor girl the insGence to urge
them, would Se unavailing. IL Aggie
remained, another mnst 20 IN her
place. She would aoespt the alter
native. She knew what it meant.
Ii would be cold sud hunger, aud. if
sickness came, possible destitutiOn.