BRAVE DEEDS OF SELF-SACRIFICE AND DEVOTION

ELIZABETH ZANE, A FRONTIER HEROINE

‘The Indians are coming!’

It was on September 1, 1782, that a scout employed to watch the movements of the Red Indians rushed into the West Virginian village of Wheeling, shouting the dreaded warning of the savages’ approach. Instantly the inhabitants took refuge in the fort, and prepared to offer a determined resistance. The fort had no regular garrison, it being the duty of the settlers to defend it. Colonel Silas Zane took command, and felt confident that, although he had only twenty men under him, he would be able to beat off the savages.

The Governor of Wheeling was Colonel Ebenezer Zane, and with two white men he decided to remain in his private residence, which was about forty yards from the fort, to prevent the ammunition which was stored there from falling into the hands of the Indians. The scout who had brought the news of the Indians’ approach was soon followed by the savages themselves, who, brandishing their tomahawks and waving their scalping-knives, instantly demanded the surrender of the white men. The reply they received was a volley fired at the standard which they bore aloft. With a terrible war-whoop the Indians rushed to the assault, but the men in the fort and in the house were good shots, and it was rarely that one of them missed his mark. Happily, there was a good stock of arms in both strongholds, and taking advantage of this, the women loaded the muskets and handed them to the men, who were thus enabled to fire quickly and were spared the fatigue of loading.

Again and again the Indians attacked the house and the fort, but on every occasion they were driven back. When darkness came on the attacks ceased, but the white men did not grow less vigilant, for they were confident that before daybreak the savages would make an attempt to surprise them. And this proved to be the case. In the dead of night one of the defenders espied an Indian crawling towards the house. He watched him until he rose to his feet and kindling a torch that he carried, attempted to set fire to the building. Then the watcher fired, and the Indian dropping his torch fled, wounded.

At daybreak it was seen that the Indians were still surrounding the fort and the house, and that they were evidently unusually excited. Could they have captured any of the defenders? Enquiries shouted from the fort to the house elicited the assurance that no one was missing.

Suddenly there was a tremendous explosion at the spot when the Indians were thickest, and the surprised white men could see that several of the enemy had been killed and many injured. The explosion was caused in this way: On the preceding evening, after the firing had ceased, some of the Indians surprised a boat ascending the river with cannon balls for the fort. The boatman escaped, but the cannon balls fell into the hands of the Indians, who believed that all they now wanted to demolish the house and fort was a cannon. Therefore they decided to make one. They procured a log of wood, bound it tightly with chains, and then made a hole in it large enough to admit the ball. Then they charged it heavily, and when it was pointed towards the fort the match was applied. Instantly the cannon burst, killing many of the men who stood near and injuring others.

This accident did not, as one might suppose, dishearten the Indians. On the contrary, it excited them to further efforts to capture the whites. Maddened with excitement they rushed boldly forward to the attack, but the steady, deadly fire which the defenders maintained drove them back time after time.

But now the defenders in the fort began to get anxious, for their stock of gunpowder was nearly exhausted. There was a plentiful supply at the house, and someone would have to undertake the perilous task of running to it and returning under fire with a keg of powder. There were plenty of volunteers for this dangerous undertaking, but among them was a woman Elizabeth Zane, the youngest sister of the two Colonels Zane. She had been educated in Philadelphia, and until her arrival at Wheeling, a few weeks previously, had experienced none of the hardships of frontier life. But now, in the hour of danger, she was brave as if she had been brought up in the midst of stirring scenes.

It was pointed out to her that a man would run less risk than she, from the fact of his being able to run faster; but she answered that if he were shot in the act, his loss would be severely felt. ’You have not one man to spare, she declared. ’A woman will not be missed in the defence of the fort.’

The men did not like the idea of allowing her to run so great a risk, but she overcame their objections, and started on her perilous journey.

The moment the gate was opened she bounded through, and ran at full speed towards the house. Surprised at her sudden appearance in the open, the Indians seized their muskets, but quickly recognizing that she was a woman they exclaimed, ‘Only a squaw,’ and did not fire.

Arriving at the house she announced to Colonel Ebenezer Zane the object of her journey, whereupon he fastened a table-cloth around her waist, and emptied a keg of powder into it.

The moment that she appeared again in the open, the Indians noticed the table-cloth around her waist, and, guessing at once that she was carrying to the fort something that was necessary for its defence; promptly opened fire on her. Undeterred by the bullets which whizzed past her Elizabeth Zane ran quickly towards the fort; and reached it in safety. It is needless to say that the brave young woman received an enthusiastic greeting from the garrison who had witnessed with admiration her daring act.

The defenders of the fort, their stock of ammunition replenished, fought with renewed confidence when the Indians again attacked, and repulsed them with a deadly fire. As time went on the assaults became less frequent, and on the third night they finally ceased. The task of massacring the settlers of Wheeling had, contrary to the Indians’ expectation, been too formidable for them, and therefore they raised the siege and crept quietly away by night. Their losses had been great, but during the three days’ fighting the casualties of the defenders were only two men wounded.

NELLIE AMOS, A FRIEND IN NEED

In the tiny cabin of a canal-boat which had but recently started on its long journey from the Midlands to London, lay a woman seriously ill. And by her side lay her two days’ old baby. Her husband was on deck steering the boat, but every few minutes he hurried down to see if there were anything he could do to make his wife comfortable. He could do but little, however.

Never before had he felt so helpless; never had he experienced so acutely the isolation of barge-life. The district through which he was travelling was thinly populated, and to obtain a doctor the bargeman would have to trudge some miles across country, leaving his wife alone on the canal. He could not leave her unattended, and consoled himself with the hope that before long he would meet someone whom he could send for a doctor. But he was disappointed; he met no one.

At last he arrived at Stoke Bruerne, in Northamptonshire, and, having tied up his barge, hurried to the post-office a little general shop kept by Mrs. Nellie Amos, who was well-known to the canal boatmen. He told her of his wife’s illness, and asked her if she would be good enough to come to his barge and see if she could discover the nature of her illness. Without the slightest hesitation Mrs. Amos accompanied the man to his barge, and found his wife very feverish.

Mrs. Amos could not discover what was the matter with the invalid, but one thing was very plain to her the poor woman could not be expected to get well in her present quarters. The cabin was low-roofed, about eight feet by six in size, and near the door stood the stove in which the meals were cooked. In such close quarters the sick woman had little chance of recovery, and Mrs. Amos did not conceal this fact from the husband. She told him also that if a doctor would certify that she could be removed with safety, she would take her to her house and nurse her and the baby. As soon as the bargeman hurried away to fetch a doctor, Mrs. Amos made the sick woman some beef-tea, tidied the bed, and took charge of the baby.

The doctor was soon with the patient, and, having examined her, gave his permission for her removal to Mrs. Amos’s house, to which she was quickly taken. Mrs. Amos had a husband and six children, and her house was a small one; but nevertheless she was able to give the mother and baby a comfortable room. Day after day she nursed them tenderly, but to her surprise the mother did not show any signs of improvement. The doctor came regularly to see her, and one day, when he had been attending her for about a week, he announced that she was suffering from small-pox.

For a few minutes Mrs. Amos was overcome with horror at the danger to which she had unintentionally subjected her six children. Nearly all of them had nursed the baby and waited on the sick woman, and it seemed to her certain that they would be stricken down with the disease. It would probably spread through the village, and she would be the cause of the sorrow that would ensue.

These fears she soon overcame, and bravely faced the danger. She declared that she would not have the poor creature removed from the house unless the doctor insisted upon it, and that she would continue to nurse her. The patient was allowed to remain, but steps were, of course, taken to guard against the disease spreading. The shop was closed, and Mrs. Amos’s only means of earning a living was gone, at any rate for a time. Her children were sent away, and watched carefully for any signs of the disease appearing in them. Anxiety concerning her own family and the loss occasioned by the suspension of her business might well have made her willing to hand over to the local medical authorities the innocent cause of her trouble. But Mrs. Amos would not relinquish her self-imposed duty. She nursed mother and child as tenderly as if they had been her relatives, and if it had been possible to save their lives they would have been saved. The child died, and a week later the woman herself passed away. Happily, neither Mrs. Amos nor any of her children contracted the disease.

‘I prayed earnestly that God would spare the village,’ Mrs. Amos told the writer of this book, ‘and He did. Not one case resulted from it.’

It was some time before the little shop was re-opened, but many people, hearing of Mrs. Amos’s bravery, came forward to help her tide over her difficulties. The landlord set a good example by sending her a receipt for rent which she had been unable to pay, and several Brentford ladies, having been told of her conduct by Mr. R. Bamber, the London City missionary to bargemen, presented her with a tea and coffee service.

ANNA GURNEY, THE FRIEND OF THE SHIPWRECKED

Anna Gurney was a cripple from her birth. Unable to walk, and consequently debarred nearly all the pleasures of childhood, it would not have been surprising had she become a sad, peevish woman. The fact that her parents were rich, and able to supply her with comforts such as poor cripples could not receive, may have prevented her from becoming depressed, but it must be remembered also that the knowledge that they were in a position to give her every reasonable pleasure a girl could desire might well have caused her to be continually deploring her crippled condition.

She did not, however, brood over her infirmity, and although she was never entirely free from pain, she was always bright and happy. Intellectually clever, she was ever anxious for self-improvement, and her knowledge of languages was remarkable. No sooner had she become thoroughly conversant with one than she began to learn another.

Early in life she became deeply interested in foreign missions, and in after years was a generous supporter of them. Her desire to do good was not, however, satisfied by the money she gave to various societies, and being unable to offer herself as a missionary to the heathen, she found a sphere of usefulness in working to improve the moral and spiritual condition of the poor of Cromer. She invited the mothers to her home, North Repps Cottage, and held classes for young men, young women and children. Humble visitors were continually calling to tell her of their joys or sorrows, and were never refused admittance. She might be busy in her library or suffering acute pain, but with a bright smile she would wheel herself forward in her mechanical chair to greet her visitor.

The fishermen along the coast regarded her with reverence, for she was their friend, adviser and patron. For many years she could be seen almost daily on the foreshore with a little group of weather-beaten men around her. She knew the dangers and disappointments of their calling, and was genuinely delighted whenever she heard that the fleet had returned with a good catch. And when the boats were out and a storm sprang up, she was anxious as any fish-wife for their safety. At her own expense she provided a lifeboat and complete apparatus for saving life, and, with the thoroughness characteristic of her, she made herself at once acquainted with the proper working of it.

Whenever there was a shipwreck, she would be down on the shore giving directions for the rescue of the people aboard the vessel. No matter the weather or the hour, she was always on the spot. Many a time the news came to her in the middle of the night that there was a ship in distress, and in a few minutes her man was wheeling her quickly down to the shore. The wind might be howling, the rain falling in torrents, but this did not deter her from being at her self-appointed post. When she first came out in rough weather, the fishermen begged her to return home, but they soon discovered that she was determined to remain.

When the boat had been launched she would remain in the cold, waiting anxiously for its return. Often she was in great pain, but only her attendant was aware of this. To the fisher-folk she would be cheerful, and express confidence that her lifeboat would rescue all aboard the ship. And when the lifeboat did return with the rescued people, who were sometimes half dead from exposure, there was more self-imposed work for her. She superintended the treatment of the shipwrecked folk, and arranged where they were to be taken. Many were removed to her own house, and kept there until they were able to proceed to their homes or to London. So kindly were the rescued people treated, that it became a saying along the East Coast, that to be taken care of by Miss Gurney, it was worth while being shipwrecked.

Anna Gurney died at Cromer in June, 1857, aged sixty-one. She was buried in Overstrand Churchyard, being carried to her last resting-place by fishermen who had known and loved her for many years. The news of her death had spread rapidly along the coast, and over a thousand fishermen were present at her funeral. Their sorrow was great, and they were not ashamed to show it.

The following lines, written by Anna Gurney on the death of a friend whom she dearly loved, might truly have been her own epitaph;

Within this frame, by Jesu’s grace,
High gifts and holy held their place;
A noble heart, a mighty mind,
Were here in bonds of clay confined.

GRIZEL HUME, THE DEVOTED DAUGHTER

There was rejoicing at Redbraes Castle, Berwickshire, in February, 1676, for Sir Patrick Hume had returned home after seventeen months’ imprisonment in Stirling Castle.

No one was more delighted at his return than his little ten years’ old daughter, Grizel, who loved him dearly, and was proud that he had suffered imprisonment for conscience sake. He had been imprisoned as ‘a factious person,’ because he refused to contribute to the support of the soldiers stationed in the country for the suppression of the meetings of the Covenanters.

Grizel was a very intelligent child, and surprised her father by her knowledge of the political events of the day, and her detestation of the Government. Some men would have been simply amused at her interest in politics, but Sir Patrick saw that she was an exceptionally clever child, and told her many things which he would have confided to few of her seniors. One thing that he told her was of his desire to get a letter conveyed to his friend Robert Baillie of Jerviswoode, who was confined in the Tolbooth of Edinburgh for rescuing a minister his brother-in-law from the hands of the Government’s servants.

Grizel at once volunteered to take the letter, and having overcome her father’s objections to sending her on such a dangerous mission, she started on her long journey to Edinburgh, which she reached without mishap.

Being at Edinburgh she had now to devise some means of getting into Robert Baillie’s prison. For a child of her age to outwit the prison officials one would think an impossibility; but she did. Joanna Baillie states that she slipped in, noiselessly and unobserved, behind the jailer, and hid in a dark corner until he withdrew, when she stepped forward and presented the letter to the astonished prisoner. Whether or not this be true, it is a fact that she gained admission to the prison, delivered her letter, and escaped with the reply.

Two years later, Sir Patrick Hume was again arrested, and although he was neither tried nor told of what he was accused, he was kept in prison for fifteen months. At first he was confined at Edinburgh, but afterwards he was removed to Dumbarton Castle.

At both of these places Grizel was allowed to visit him, but the authorities never suspected that such a child would be used as a political messenger. In the presence of the jailer she would give Sir Patrick news of home. She showered kisses upon him, and delivered loving messages from her mother, sisters, and brothers. But when the jailer had withdrawn she gave her father an account of the movements of his political friends, and delivered many important verbal messages, which they had entrusted to her. By her means Sir Patrick was kept informed of his friends’ actions, and was able to assist them by his advice.

On being released from Dumbarton Castle he returned to his home in Berwickshire, and for a time led a peaceful life, conscious that the Government would have him arrested again if they could find a pretext for doing so.

In October, 1683, information was brought to him that his friend, Robert Baillie, had been arrested in London, and imprisoned for alleged connection with the Rye House Plot. Sir Patrick’s friendship for Robert Baillie was well known, and Grizel feared that her father would soon be arrested on a similar charge. Sir Patrick was of the same opinion, but the Government did not act with the promptitude he had expected.

It was not until nearly a year had elapsed that a lady sent word to him that soldiers had arrived at her house, and that she had discovered that they were on their way to arrest him. Instant flight was imperative, for there was no place in Redbraes Castle in which he could conceal himself from soldiers skilled in searching for enemies of the Government. His wife and Grizel the only people in the castle who knew of his danger discussed with him the most likely means of escaping detection, and finally it was decided that he should hide in the family vault in Polwarth Church, which stood about a mile and a half from Redbraes Castle.

In the middle of the night Grizel and a carpenter named Winter carried bed and bedding to the vault. It was a weird hiding-place for Sir Patrick, as the vault was littered with the skulls and bones of his ancestors. Grizel shuddered at the sight, but she knew that the vault was the only place which the soldiers would be unlikely to search.

They arrived at Redbraes Castle confident that they would find Sir Patrick there, and great was their surprise when they searched it from cellar to turret without finding him. Even then they would not believe that he had escaped them, so they made a second and still more thorough search. Every cottage, stable, and shed in the neighbourhood of the castle was searched, but no one examined the vaults in Polwarth Church.

Sir Patrick Hume was safe from discovery in his gruesome hiding-place, but he could not live without food, and the difficulty was to convey it to him without being detected.

This dangerous task Grizel, now nineteen years of age, undertook, and every night, when all in the castle but herself were asleep, she crept out with a stock of provisions for her father, and trudged the mile and a half of country which lay between the castle and Polwarth Church.

It was a trying journey for Grizel, for not only had she to fear being seen by the soldiers, or some villager out late on poaching bent, but she believed implicitly in ghosts as did the majority of people in those days. Frequently she was startled by the cry of a bird aroused by her footsteps, and on several occasions a dog detected her, and barked furiously.

It can easily be understood that Grizel’s visits were a great comfort to Sir Patrick, for she was the only person who ventured to go to him. She would spread out on the little table in the vault the provisions which she had brought him, and while he ate his supper she amused him by humorously relating the difficulties she met in obtaining them. Lady Hume, Winter and herself were the only people who knew that Sir Patrick was in the neighbourhood. Grizel’s brothers and sisters and the servants believed that he had fled from the country, and Grizel was very anxious that they should not be undeceived, for the children might unintentionally divulge the secret, and among the servants there were, possibly, some who would be ready to earn a reward by betraying their master.

But her fear of admitting the children and servants into her secret made the task of obtaining provisions exceedingly difficult. Had they seen her taking food into her room, they would at once have suspected that it was for her father, and that he was somewhere close at hand. The only way in which she could get the food she required for him was by slipping some of her dinner from her plate into her lap. This was not an easy thing to do without being detected by some of her brothers and sisters, of whom there were many at table, she being the eldest but two of eighteen children. Once she feared that she had been discovered. Her mother had given her a large helping of chicken, knowing well that the greater portion of it would be taken that night to Sir Patrick. One of Grizel’s younger brothers had noticed the large helping she had received, and was somewhat jealous that he had not been served as liberally. A few moments later he glanced again at her plate, and saw to his surprise that it was nearly empty.

With a brother’s acknowledged right to make personal remarks, he loudly called attention to the fact that Grizel had eaten nearly all her big helping before anyone else had scarcely started. Lady Hume promptly reprimanded the boy, and ordered him to confine his attention to his own plate. The youngster made no further remarks concerning his sister’s appetite, but Grizel often found him glancing at her during meals, and was in constant fear that he would detect her slipping the food into her lap.

After giving her father the day’s news of home and political events she would start on her return journey, leaving Sir Patrick alone for another twenty-four hours in his gruesome hiding-place. Many men would have been driven out of their mind by a month’s sojourn in a skull-and-bone-littered tomb, but Sir Patrick was a man of high spirits, and his daughter never once found him depressed. During a previous imprisonment he had committed to memory Buchanan’s translation of the Psalms, and he obtained much comfort from repeating them while in the Polwarth vault.

One day as he sat at his little table deep in thought he fancied that he saw a skull lying on the floor move slightly. He watched it, and saw to his surprise that it was undoubtedly moving. He was not alarmed, but stretching out his cane turned over the skull and startled a mouse from underneath it.

Grizel was determined that her father should not remain in the vault longer than was absolutely necessary, and with the assistance of the trusty Winter was preparing a hiding-place for him at the castle. There was a room on the ground floor, the key of which was kept by Grizel, and under this they dug a big hole with their bare hands, fearing that the sound of a spade, if used, would be heard. Night after night, when all but they two were asleep, they scratched out the earth, and placed it on a sheet spread on the floor. Then, when their night’s work was done, they silently opened the window and emptied the earth into the garden The hole in the floor they covered by placing a bed over it.

At last, when Grizel’s finger nails were worn almost completely away, the subterranean hiding-place was finished, Winter placing in it a large box which he had made for the purpose. Inside the box was a bed and bedding, and fresh air was admitted through holes pierced in the lid and sides. In this box Sir Patrick was to hide whenever the soldiers searched the house.

But before telling her father that he could with safety return home Grizel examined the underground room daily, to see that it was not flooded. Feeling confident at last that the water would not percolate, she told Sir Patrick of the hiding-place prepared for him, and during the night he crept back to the castle.

When he had been there a week without anyone but Grizel, her mother, and Winter knowing of his presence, the water burst through into the subterranean room and flooded the box. Grizel was for a few minutes terror-stricken, for if the soldiers paid another visit to the castle, there would be nowhere for her father to hide, and he would be captured. She hurried to him to advise him to return that night to the vault; but being an active man he disliked the prospect of prolonged idleness, and decided to make an attempt to escape to Holland, where many of his political friends had already found safety.

Grizel now set to work to alter her father’s clothes, so that he might appear to be a man of humble station. Throughout the day and all through the night she plied her needle, but her task was not finished when the news reached the castle that Robert Baillie of Jerviswoode had been executed at Edinburgh. Knowing that her father would meet a similar fate if captured, she finished his disguise quickly, and urged his instant flight. He acted on her advice, and had not been gone many hours before the soldiers arrived and searched the castle thoroughly.

After some narrow escapes from being recognised and arrested Sir Patrick arrived at London, and crossed to France, making his way thence to Holland. But before he had been there long he was declared a rebel, and his estates confiscated. Lady Hume and her children were turned out of the castle, and found themselves almost penniless. Grizel and her mother, financially assisted by some friends, journeyed to London, to petition the Government for an allowance out of the confiscated estates, and after much difficulty succeeded in obtaining a paltry pittance of L150 a year.

Sir Patrick’s hatred of the Stuarts was naturally increased by the treatment his wife and children had received at their hands, and he threw himself heart and soul into the conspiracy for invading England and Scotland. He took part, under the Duke of Argyle, in the invasion of Scotland, and on the failure of the enterprise remained in hiding until he found an opportunity to escape to Ireland, and thence to Holland via France. Here Lady Hume, Grizel, and all the children but one soon joined him.

Sir Patrick had very little money at this time, and Grizel was soon sent back to Scotland to attend to some business on his behalf, and collect money owing to him. She was also to bring back with her a sister who had been left with friends in Scotland.

Grizel having performed the business entrusted to her, sailed for Holland with her sister, but before they had been at sea many hours a terrible storm arose, which, of course, considerably prolonged the voyage. This would not have been a great hardship, had the captain been an ordinary man. He happened to be a cowardly bully, and being short of food for himself, he forcibly took from Grizel and her sister the biscuits which they had brought aboard for their own use. These he ate in their presence. But this was not the worst. Grizel had paid for a cabin bed for herself and sister, but the captain appropriated it, and they were compelled to sleep on the floor. However, they arrived in safety at their destination, and Sir Patrick was exceedingly pleased with the way in which Grizel had transacted his business.

The three years and a half which followed were comparatively uneventful for the British exiles in Holland. Grizel devoted herself almost entirely to domestic duties, for her father was too poor to keep servants, and the only assistance she had was from a little girl who was paid to come in daily to wash the plates and dishes. Every morning she rose at six o’clock, and was busy until she retired to bed at night. She washed and dressed the children, assisted her father in teaching them, mended their clothes, and performed other duties which it would be tedious to enumerate. The few hours during which she managed to be free from domestic duties she devoted to practising music and studying French and German.

Grizel was now a beautiful young woman, and her gentle manner and sweetness made her a favourite of all with whom she came into contact. Two Scotch exiles fell in love with her, but she declined their offers of marriage, greatly to the surprise of her father, who did not know that she was the promised wife of another man George Baillie, son of his old friend Robert Baillie. George and Grizel had known each other for many years. George was visiting his father in prison at Edinburgh when Grizel, to the surprise of both of them, slipped out from a dark corner and delivered her father’s letter.

The bravery of the little girl made a lasting impression on the boy, and during the troublous years that followed he managed to see her on several occasions. Each liked the other, and their liking changed to love long before they were out of their teens. George’s estates had been confiscated, and he was serving as a private in the Prince of Orange’s Guards, where he had for his chum one of Grizel’s brothers. When off duty he was frequently at the Humes’ house, and there, one day, Grizel promised to become his wife. They kept their engagement a secret, for Grizel did not wish it to be known until the good days, which she was convinced were in store for Great Britain, arrived.

The good days came at last. The Prince of Orange’s troops landed at Torbay, and the last of the Stuart kings fled from the land he had misruled. Honours were now conferred upon the men who had suffered at the hands of Charles II. and James II. Sir Patrick Hume had his estates restored to him, and was created Lord Polwarth. Six years later he was made Earl of Marchmont and Lord Chancellor of Scotland. The queen greatly admired Grizel, and asked her to become one of her maids of honour, but she declined the offer, as George Baillie, whose estate had been restored to him, wanted her to fulfil her promise. She was quite willing to do so, and they were married on September 17, 1692.

In 1703 Lady Hume died. On her death-bed she looked at those standing around her and asked anxiously ‘Where is Grizel?’ Grizel, who had been standing back so that her beloved mother should not see her tears, came forward at once. ‘My dear Grizel,’ Lady Hume said, holding her by the hand, ’blessed be you above all, for a helpful child you have been to me.’

Grizels married life was exceedingly happy, and lasted for forty-six years. She often declared that during those years she and her husband never had the slightest quarrel or misunderstanding. Throughout her married life she was indefatigable in good works for the poor, and she continued her kindly deeds after her husbands death. The rebellion of 1745 caused much distress in her native land, and her money was given freely to the ruined of both parties. Her own income had been greatly reduced, as her impoverished tenants were unable to pay her, and soon she found herself pressed for money. All that she had possessed had been given to those in distress, and now, in her eighty-first year, she was unable to pay for the common necessaries of life. She called together the tradesmen, whom she had hitherto paid promptly, and told them that she was now poor, and would have to remain so until her tenants were prosperous enough to pay their rents. Perhaps they would not be in a position to do so during her lifetime, and she left it to them, the tradesmen, to decide whether or not they would continue to serve her, and run the risk of not being paid. Unanimously and promptly the tradesmen declared that, as heretofore, she should have the best of their stock. Joanna Baillie gives their reply in the following lines:

No, noble dame! this must not be.
With heart as warm and hand as free
Still thee and thine we’ll serve with pride,
As when fair fortune graced your side.
The best of all our stores afford
Shall daily smoke upon thy board;
And should’st thou never clear the score,
Heaven, for thy sake, will bless our store.

The tradesmen were paid eventually, but not by Lady Grizel Baillie, for she died on December 6, 1746, before prosperity came to her tenants. A long life had been given her, and she had spent it nobly exhibiting all the good qualities which a woman should possess.

LUCY HUTCHINSON, A BRAVE WIFE

One morning in the spring of 1638 a large number of people had assembled at a Richmond Church to witness the marriage of John Hutchinson, eldest son of Sir Thomas Hutchinson, with Lucy Apsley, the daughter of Sir Allen Apsley. The bride, who was only eighteen years of age, was, according to her contemporaries, exceedingly beautiful and very accomplished; her future husband was learned, well-bred and handsome. Both had a host of friends, and thus it was that a large crowd had gathered at the church to witness their marriage.

The time for the bride to arrive at the church had come; but she was not there. Minutes passed, and soon a messenger arrived with the news that the marriage would not take place that day. ’But why was it postponed?’ This was the question which the disappointed friends asked, and the answer was soon forthcoming.

Lucy Apsley had been seized with small-pox on her wedding morning. In those days small-pox was far more feared than it is at the present time, and the crowd quickly dispersed, some of the people fearing that the messenger who brought the bad news might also have brought the dreaded disease.

For some time it was thought that Lucy Apsley would die from the complaint, but she recovered. There were many people, however, who declared that it would have been better if she had died, for the once beautiful girl was now much disfigured, and the Society gossips expressed their confidence that John Hutchinson would never marry her.

It was unjustifiable for these people to talk of John Hutchinson as if he were a scoundrel, for he was a manly, honourable, young fellow, and quite unlikely to refuse to marry Lucy Apsley because she had lost her beauty. He told her that he was thankful to God for having spared her, and urged her to marry him as soon as it was possible.

They were married at St. Andrew’s Church, Holborn, on July 3, 1638, the bride presenting such a shocking appearance that the clergyman who performed the ceremony could not look at her a second time. It is highly satisfactory to be able to say that in the course of time Lucy Hutchinson regained some of her beauty; but the contemporary writer’s statement that she became as beautiful as ever she had been must be received with a certain amount of doubt.

However, it is not for her beauty but for her bravery that Lucy Hutchinson deserves to be remembered. When she had spent a few happy years of married life, the troubles which ended in the execution of Charles I. began. It was impossible for any man or woman to refrain from siding with one or the other party in this momentous struggle, for any person who claimed to be neutral would have been suspected by both parties. Lucy Hutchinson’s husband was of a studious disposition, and had little taste for the frivolities and dissipation in which the majority of men of his position indulged, and it is therefore not surprising that, when it became necessary to take part in the struggle, he determined to espouse the cause of the Parliamentary party.

This step caused Lucy Hutchinson some sorrow, for her brother and many other members of her family were fighting for King Charles. However, she felt that it was her duty to hold the same political opinions as her husband, and she became a staunch Parliamentarian.

The Cavaliers, hearing that John Hutchinson had proclaimed sympathy with the Roundheads, decided to take him prisoner immediately, but warning of their intention reached him, and he fled to Leicestershire. Lucy joined him at the earliest opportunity, but they had little peace, for the Cavaliers were constantly in search of John Hutchinson.

After fleeing from place to place he arrived at Nottingham, soon after the battle of Edgehill. The Cavaliers were on their way to take possession of Nottingham, and John Hutchinson and others urged the citizens to defend the town. The militia was organised, and John Hutchinson was appointed a lieutenant-colonel.

Lucy Hutchinson was at this time living at their home at Owthorpe, but her husband, thinking that she would be safer in Nottingham than alone in a neighbourhood which abounded with Royalists, sent a troop of horse to remove her by night. It was an adventurous journey, but was accomplished safely. Finding that the citizens of Nottingham were prepared to offer a determined resistance, the Cavaliers did not attack the town, but passed on with the intention of returning later to capture it.

The citizens of Nottingham, pleased with the energy shown by Colonel Hutchinson, elected him Governor of Nottingham Castle. It was a high post for a man only twenty-seven years of age, but Colonel Hutchinson soon proved that he was well fitted for it The castle, although standing in an excellent position, was in a dilapidated condition and required much strengthening before it could be considered strong enough to withstand a determined attack. The required alterations were carried out under Colonel Hutchinson’s supervision, and at length all that was needed to withstand a siege was a stock of provisions and a larger garrison. These, however, the governor could not obtain.

A period of waiting followed. Again and again the rumour spread that the Cavaliers were approaching to capture the castle, but they did not attack it. Their guns were heard in the distance, but for some reason known only to themselves they did not deliver the long-expected assault. Lucy Hutchinson had an unenviable time. Loving a peaceful, domestic life, she was compelled to live in the midst of turmoil. She saw to the feeding of the soldiers, a trying task considering that so far the Parliamentary party had allowed her husband nothing whatever towards defraying the cost of maintaining the garrison, and that the stock of provisions was running low. Moreover she was often troubled concerning the safety of her relatives. Her eldest brother, Sir Allen Apsley, of whom she was exceedingly fond, was fighting gallantly for the king, and believing that the Parliamentarians would triumph, she feared that if he escaped death on the battle-field, it would only be to suffer imprisonment and the confiscation of his estate.

At last, in 1644, the Earl of Newcastle sent a messenger to Colonel Hutchinson calling upon him to surrender Nottingham Castle to the Royalists, a demand that was promptly refused. ’If his lordship would have that poor castle,’ the colonel said to the messenger, ’he must wade to it in blood.’

The messenger departed, and Colonel Hutchinson made preparations to withstand a siege. Greatly to his surprise, however, the attempt on the castle was not made, the Earl of Newcastle having been compelled to march his forces to the assistance of Royalists in another part of the country.

Before long, however, the citizens of Nottingham veered round to the Royalist party, and decided to betray the town. One night they secretly admitted 600 Cavaliers, commanded by Colonel Hutchinson’s cousin, Sir Richard Byron, and before daybreak the town was in their hands. But not the castle. With only eighty men, Colonel Hutchinson determined to hold it against the enemy until not a man remained alive. His force should have been much larger, but many of his men had on the previous evening quitted the castle without permission and entered the town. While enjoying themselves the Cavaliers arrived and made them prisoners.

Among the Parliamentarians who were taken prisoners in Nottingham were the surgeons, and the defenders of the castle entered into the fight with the unpleasant belief that if they were wounded there would be no one to attend to their wounds.

They were mistaken. When the battle had been raging for some minutes, and the wounded defenders were being removed from further danger, Lucy Hutchinson came forward, and skilfully and tenderly dressed their wounds. For five days, attending to the wounded was her chief duty, and many a poor fellow’s life was saved by her promptitude and skill.

One day, while resting from her labours, she saw three Royalists being led away to the dungeon. They were wounded, and had been captured in the latest assault on the castle. Seeing that they were wounded, Lucy Hutchinson at once dressed their injuries, and while thus employed one of her husband’s officers angrily upbraided her for having pity on them, concluding with the assertion that ’his soul abhorred to see this favour to the enemies of God.’

‘I’ve done nothing but my duty,’ she replied. ’These are our enemies, but they are also our fellow-creatures.’

For five days the little band of Roundheads held out against the strong force of Cavaliers, and they were fully prepared for a long siege, when, to their surprise, they saw the enemy beat a hurried retreat. In a short time they knew the cause. A strong Parliamentary force was advancing to the relief of Nottingham Castle.

For his good defence of the castle, Parliament ratified the appointment made by the citizens, and promoted Colonel Hutchinson to be governor of the town as well as of the castle.

Unable to obtain the castle by force of arms, the Royalists now tempted Colonel Hutchinson, by offering him any terms he might name, if he would surrender it and join their party. These attempts to suborn him he ignored, and held the castle for the Parliamentary party until peace was declared, and he was able to return with his wife and children to his ruined home at Owthorpe. In the meanwhile, Lucy Hutchinson was anxious concerning her brother, Sir Allen Apsley, who had held Barnstaple for the king as gallantly as her husband had held Nottingham Castle for the Parliament. He was a marked man, but Colonel Hutchinson used his now great influence to obtain immunity from molestation for the gallant Cavalier.

Until the death of Cromwell, Lucy Hutchinson and her husband lived very happily with their children at their rebuilt Owthorpe home. But immediately after that event troubles began. The Royalists, hoping to bring about a restoration of monarchy, were eager to obtain arms, and planned a raid on Owthorpe; but their designs were repeated to Lucy Hutchinson by a boy who overheard the conspiracy, and when the robbers arrived they were speedily put to flight.

As the prospects of a Restoration became greater, Lucy Hutchinson grew alarmed for the safety of her husband, who was one of the men who had signed the death-warrant of Charles I. The friends of the exiled king had promised him pardon and preferment if he would become a Royalist, but this he had firmly declined to do.

On May 29, 1660, Charles II. was restored to the throne, and little mercy could be expected from him by those who had signed his father’s death-warrant. Some of Colonel Hutchinson’s friends urged him to follow Ingoldsby’s example, and declare that Cromwell had held his hand and compelled him to sign it, but he rejected this advice with the greatest indignation.

In a terrible state of anxiety Lucy Hutchinson applied to her brother for assistance and advice. Sir Allen Apsley was naturally in high favour at court, where his gallant fight for Charles I. was well known, and he was glad of an opportunity to help the brother-in-law who had protected him in time of danger. Moreover, there was another reason why he was anxious to help Colonel Hutchinson he, Sir Allen, had recently married his sister.

Sir Allen Apsley worked exceedingly hard to obtain his brother-in-law’s pardon, and at last he had the joy of telling his sister that her husband’s name was inserted in the Act of Oblivion, and his estates unconditionally freed to him.

Great was Lucy Hutchinson’s joy at the pardon of her husband, and she looked forward to spending the remainder of their days in peace at their beloved Owthorpe. Alas! this was not to be. There were many Royalists who were highly displeased at Colonel Hutchinson’s receiving a pardon, and they determined to ruin him. Very conveniently they discovered, or said that they had discovered, a Puritan plot for a rising, and that Colonel Hutchinson was one of the conspirators. As far as Colonel Hutchinson was concerned the story was utterly untrue, but, nevertheless, on the strength of it, he was arrested for treason, carried to London and placed in the Tower. After ten months in the Tower, during which his wife visited him regularly, he was removed to Sandown Castle, where, in a damp cell against the walls of which the sea washed, he contracted ague. Lucy Hutchinson implored the governor to be permitted to share her husband’s prison, but he refused, and treated both her and him with brutality.

Sir Allen Apsley, hearing of the treatment accorded to his brother-in-law, used his influence to bring about a change in his condition, but the alteration came too late, and he died on September 11, 1664. Lucy Hutchinson was not present when he died, but the message he sent to her was: ’Let her, as she is above other women, show herself on this occasion a good Christian, and above the pitch of ordinary minds.’

Little is known of Lucy Hutchinson after her husband’s death, beyond that she soon sold Owthorpe, and that some years later she referred to herself as being in adversity. By adversity she probably referred to her widowed state, for it is very unlikely that with many rich relatives a woman of simple tastes would be in want of money. But of this we may be sure: that, whether old age found her rich or poor, it found her a noble-minded, Christian Englishwoman.

LADY BAKER, AN EXPLORER’S COMPANION

When Samuel White Baker decided to make an attempt to discover the sources of the Nile, his young wife determined to accompany him and share his dangers and hardships. On April 15, 1861, they started from Cairo, and after a twenty-six days’ journey by boat they disembarked at Korosko, and plunged into the dreary desert. Their camels travelled at a rapid pace, but the heat was terrible, and Mrs. Baker was taken seriously ill before arriving at Berber. She was, however, sufficiently recovered to accompany her husband when he started off along the dry bed of the Atbara, and soon had a novel experience, which Baker in The Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia, describes as follows:

’At half-past eight I was lying half asleep upon my bed by the margin of the river, when I fancied that I heard a rumbling like distant thunder. Hardly had I raised my head to listen more attentively, when a confusion of voices arose from the Arabs’ camp, with the sound of many feet; and in a few minutes they rushed into my camp, shouting to my men in the darkness, “El Bahr! El Bahr!"’ The rolling flood was sweeping down the dry bed of the river. ’We were up in an instant. Many of the people were asleep on the clean sand in the river’s bed; these were quickly awakened by the Arabs.... Hardly had they (the Arabs) descended, when the sound of the river in the darkness beneath told us that the water had arrived; and the men, dripping with wet, had just sufficient time to drag their heavy burdens up the bank. All was darkness and confusion. The river had arrived like “a thief in the night."’

When daylight came a mighty river was flowing where yesterday there was only dry land.

Proceeding to Kassala, Baker engaged additional camels and attendants, and then crossing the Atbara at Korasi proceeded to Sofi, where he decided to halt for five months. Big game abounded, and Baker enjoyed excellent sport. Shooting and studying Arabic occupied nearly all his attention, until Mrs. Baker was taken ill with gastric fever. For a time it was not expected that she would recover; but, fortunately, she was spared to assist her husband in the arduous labours which followed.

Mr. and Mrs. Baker arrived at Khartoum on June 11, 1862, and remained there for six months, waiting for the rains to cease, and for the northerly winds to set in. Quitting Khartoum on December 18, 1862, they arrived at Gondokoro on February 2, 1863. Baker was the first Englishman to visit the place, and the reception which the slave-traders accorded him was far from cordial. Believing him to be a spy of the British Government, they concealed their slaves, and waited anxiously for him to depart. In the meanwhile they made friends with his men, sowed discontent amongst them, and succeeded in inciting them to make a raid for food on the natives in the next village.

Baker, hearing of the proposed raid, promptly forbade it, whereupon his men mutinied. Seizing the ringleader, Baker proceeded to give him a sound thrashing, but was at once attacked by the rest of the men, and would certainly have been killed had not Mrs. Baker rushed to the rescue. Her sudden appearance on the scene for it was known she was ill with fever and her appeals to some of the men to help her save her husband caused the mutineers to hesitate. Instantly Baker saw his opportunity. ‘Fall in!’ he commanded, and so accustomed were the men to obeying his orders that the majority fell in instantly. The ringleader and a few others refused to obey, and Baker was about to administer another thrashing to the former when his wife besought him not to do so. He acted on her advice, and promised to overlook the mutineers’ conduct if they apologised, which they promptly and profusely did.

The slave-traders now declared that they would not permit the Bakers to penetrate into the interior, but, ignoring the threats, husband and wife resumed their journey. Soon they came into contact with a well-armed party of these traders, and a fight would have resulted had not Mrs. Baker suggested that they should make friends with the leader. ‘Had I been alone,’ Baker writes, ’I should have been too proud to have sought the friendship of the sullen trader; and the moment on which success depended would have been lost.... The fate of the expedition was retrieved by Mrs. Baker.’

It was, of course, a trying task for Mr. and Mrs. Baker to be on friendly terms with a slave-trader, and they both felt it to be so, but it was productive of good. The slave-trader informed Baker that his (Baker’s) men intended to mutiny and kill him and his wife. Baker was on his guard, and nipped the mutiny in the bud.

After many hardships and perils borne uncomplainingly by Mrs. Baker, they reached the territory of the King of Unyoro, where his majesty’s brother, M’gambi, was continually asking for presents. Having received a great number from Baker, M’gambi went on to demand that Mrs. Baker might be given to him. ’Drawing my revolver quietly, I held it within two feet of his chest,’ Baker writes, ’and looking at him with undisguised contempt, I told him that if I touched the trigger, not all the men could save him: and that it he dared to repeat the insult I would shoot him on the spot. At the same time, I explained to him that in my country such insolence would entail bloodshed; and I looked upon him as an ignorant ox who knew no better; and that this excuse alone could save him. My wife, naturally indignant, had risen from her seat, and maddened with the excitement of the moment, she made a little speech in Arabic (not a word of which he understood) with a countenance almost as amiable as the head of Medusa. Altogether the mise-en-scene utterly astonished him. The woman, Bacheta, although savage, had appropriated the insult to her mistress, and she also fearlessly let fly at him, translating as nearly as she could the complimentary address that “Medusa” had just delivered.

Whether this little coup de theatre had so impressed M’gambi with British female independence, that he wished to be “off his bargain,” I cannot say; but, with an air of complete astonishment, he said; “Don’t be angry! I had no intention of offending you by asking for your wife; I will give you a wife if you want one; and I thought you had no objection to give me yours: it is my custom to give my visitors pretty wives, and I thought you might exchange. Don’t make a fuss about it; if you don’t like it, there’s an end of it: I will never mention it again.” This very practical apology I received very sternly.’

After this interview with M’gambi, the Bakers resumed their journey, escorted by 300 local men, whose services Baker soon discovered it would be advisable to dispense with. He was now left with only twelve men, and it was doubtful whether he would be able to reach his destination and get back to Gondokoro in time to catch the last boat to Khartoum that season. If he failed to do so, it meant another year in Central Africa, and he did not wish his wife to endure that. But Mrs. Baker was interested deeply in her husband’s work, and urged him not to consider her health before accomplishing his task.

A few days later she received a sun-stroke, and for several days lay in a litter in an unconscious state. Brain fever followed, and no one believed that she could possibly recover. A halt was made, and the men put a new handle to the pick-axe ready to dig a grave, the site of which had been selected. But the preparations were premature. Mrs. Baker recovered consciousness, and two days later the weary march was resumed, to be crowned on March 14, 1864, with success, for on that day they saw before them the tremendous sheet of water now well known by the name the discoverer gave it, there and then, the Albert Nyanza.

We can imagine Mrs. Baker’s joy on finding that their expedition had been crowned with success, and that the perils and hardships which she had shared uncomplainingly with her husband had not been endured in vain. It would perhaps have only been natural if she had now urged her husband to return to civilisation as quickly as possible, but she did not do so.

For thirteen days they explored in canoes the eastern shore of the newly-discovered lake, coming at last to the mouth of Somerset or Victoria Nile. Ascending the river they discovered a series of cataracts, ending in a magnificent fall. These Baker named Murchison Falls, as a compliment to the President of the Royal Geographical Society. Continuing the journey on foot, they came to a deserted village, where they were compelled to remain for two months through the treachery of the King of Unyoro. This dusky potentate had promised Baker every assistance that he could give, but having decided to make an attack on two neighbouring tribes he asked the Englishman to accompany his force and fight for him. This Baker refused to do, and, in revenge, the king sent secret orders to Baker’s followers to desert him, and leave him and his wife to starve. In a desolate spot, unable to obtain provisions, Mr. and Mrs. Baker existed for two months, growing weaker daily from fever and want of proper food. However, after many attempts, Baker managed to obtain an interview with the king, and persuaded him to treat them humanely. The king would not, however, allow them to quit his territory, and it was not until November, 1864, that they succeeded in escaping.

After many adventures they arrived at Khartoum on May 3, 1865, where their arrival created great surprise among the Europeans, who had long since been convinced that they were dead.

On reaching England in October, 1865, the Bakers were given an enthusiastic reception. Various learned societies at home and abroad bestowed their highest honours upon Baker, and Queen Victoria conferred a knighthood upon him.

Mrs. Baker’s bravery in accompanying her husband through so many dangers was naturally praised by all classes, and it was felt by many people that some honour should be conferred upon her. In Messrs. Murray and White’s Sir Samuel Baker: a Memoir (Macmillan), it is stated that Mr. W. E. Gladstone proposed that a subscription should be started for presenting a suitable testimonial to her. This was, however, prior to her becoming Lady Baker, and perhaps it was considered that having received an honour the testimonial was unnecessary. At any rate Mr. Gladstone’s suggestion was not carried out.

In the spring of 1869, Sir Samuel and Lady Baker returned to Africa. The Khedive had appointed Sir Samuel Governor-General of the Equatorial Nile Basin, to suppress the slave-trade, to develop the natural resources of the country, and open the great lakes to navigation. This was a formidable task, and made more difficult by the jealousy of the Egyptian authorities, who neglected to give him the support which they should have done.

For two years Sir Samuel Baker was busy fighting slave-traders and native tribes, and throughout this exciting period he was accompanied by his wife, who was subjected to the same dangers as he or any man in his force. At one time she was in great danger of being laid low at any moment by bullet or spear. This was during the retreat from Masendi, a position which Sir Samuel Baker was compelled to abandon on June 14, 1872. For eighty miles the little band, composed of about 100 men, marched in double file through tangled forest and gigantic grass, fighting the whole distance. Bullets whizzed past Lady Baker, and many a spear went within an inch of her, but unalarmed she marched on carrying ammunition. The enemy hoped to annihilate the party before it got clear of the long grass, but the determined men who were fighting for their lives discovered the ambuscades and drove out the enemy. Night and day the hidden foe harassed the party, and Lady Baker knew that any moment might be her last. Nevertheless, she trudged on with her burden of ammunition, and on some occasions marched sixteen miles at a stretch. It was a weary march through that grass-jungle which harboured hundreds of the enemy and it seemed that it would never end. To accelerate their retreat, the cattle were abandoned and loads of valuable goods were burnt or thrown away. At times it seemed as if they could not possibly escape, and, in fact, news reached England that they had been slaughtered during the retreat from Masendi.

However, they got through safely, and shortly afterwards inflicted a crushing defeat on the enemy. Lady Baker was present at this battle, but although the bullets whizzed to the right, to the left, and above her, she escaped injury. Sir Samuel not only praised her bravery, but he wrote of her: ’She has always been my prime minister, to give good counsel in moments of difficulty and danger.’

On completion of the four years’ service for which the Khedive had engaged him, Sir Samuel Baker returned with his wife to England, where once more they received an enthusiastic reception. When they again travelled abroad it was in more civilised parts of the world, and unattended by the perils which had assailed them in Africa. Sir Samuel Baker died on December 30, 1893, at Sandford Orleigh, near Newton Abbot, aged 72. He was a brave and clever man, but not a little of his success was due to the fact that he had a wife who shared his ambition, and did all that lay in her power to bring his undertakings to a successful issue.