The Atlanta constitution. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1885-19??, 1903-06-01
A TRUE INCIDENT.


story today written by one OF our young
friends. He says. The father mentioned
IN my story was my great gra ndfather.
] have sat on my grandmothers knee
and heard her tell this story and upon
my childish brain 1t has burned its In
Gelible impression. ] believe it to be one
Of the most heroic examples of infantile
devotion on earth. l would like to see
il in print because 1t is Georgia history.
and also true" Newell and John, the
children spoken of. have not been dead
over fifteen or twenty years. We thank
our young friend for such an interest
ing story. AUNT SUSIE.
over a century ago when northern and
western Georgia was the home of the
dusky red man, when the Creek or Cher
okee gave vent TO the blood-curdling war
whoop Ger the hills where Atlanta now
stands. when the whole tribe met near
the headwaters of the Chattahoochee to
celebrate the first fruits OF the harvest
with the green corn dance, when brave
heart wooed and won the dusky belle, or
the savage mother crooned her lullaby to
hero of the revolution, immtgrated to
those echoing hills then in their primeval
robes of trackless forest. There shared
with him the privatons and dangers of
pioneer life a wife. two sons. Newell
and John. aged and years, respective
ly. and baby Jane.
The day Jane was three weeks old the
father was called away from home and
the mother and children We're sent for
safety To rude tort in the neighbor-
hood called blocl1house. The father had
promised to return before night TO his
loved ones. SO the mother. during that
dreary day, picked the cotton seed from
the lint, piled the cards and deposited
the snow white rolls in a large handker-
chief arranged for the purpose, dreaming
DAY dreams of how sweet little John
would look in his new homemade frock,
into which the rolls were TO be convert
ed.
Time flew apace and as the sun was
hiding his face behind the tops Of the
tall pines. the mother consigned the hand
kerchief Of rolls to Johns care, another
bundle to Newers and clasped the babe
10 her bosom and started to the log cab
in the home sweet home" of the pio-
neer.
eued by exposure and SCARED in many
= hard fought battle with savage Indians
and more savage elements. beamed with
a smile and showed a peculiar radiance
in the sunset glow he leaned against
the blockhouse gate and watched John
clasp the bundle Of cotton rolls with his
chubby fingers and march IN front Of his
mother, ever and anon turning round TO
see how far he had gone and to ask
her for the twentieth time, Where's my
I,apa." and Reckon he'll be home when
we get there?'
The soldier had scarcely replaced the
bar to the gate when the savage yell
of the Indian and the mothers Shrek
of despair grated harshly upon his ear
as 1t echoed through the stiffness Of the
woods and for a moment smothered the
melancholy moaning of the pine boughs.
The beaming smile faded from the pio-
neer's face as a rainbow vanishes when
the sun is hidden, and a dark cloud OF
revenge gathered on the brow of this son
Of Mars as he and a few companions
saIlied forth only to find che mother
dead and scalped, the boys gone and
baby Jane almost suffocated by the blood
that Sushed from her mothers mutt
lated corpse She with maternal love.
had clasped her babe to her bosom and
had fallen face first that she, In her
dying moments. might shield the mite of
innocence from the savage ferocity OF
the fiends of the forest
In those days of danger and trial It
was considered a weakness for men to
weep. but It IS said that as some Of the
company seized the body of the dead
mother and bore It in their hurry OF
fright to the fort, a shower of sympa-
thetic tears poured down upon the blood
stained face OF the motherless babe az
one hardy tender-souIed pioneer clasped
It to his bosom and bore 1t back 10 the
fort
While the savageg were scalping the
mother and Newell an Indian girl grasp
ed John and concealed him under Il pile
az brush near the roadside. saying as
She did. you heap pretty; too pretty to
be scalped
Thinking the voices of the soldiers were
Indian voices, he remained in his hiding
place until attracted by the cries of his
brother not far away IN the woods. With
the tenderness of baby Instinct he braved
the surrounding dangers and amid the
gathering darkness wendell his way to his
distressed brother. Still clinging to tho