Franklin County: "Legend of the Late Civil War," by C. C. Kauffman, March 1914
Summary: The author describes a run-in with a hermit who tells a story of his birth in Pennsylvania, then move to the South, where he got involved in slavery and joined the Confederate Army. At the end of a battle, the hermit found his brother, captain of the Union troops, dead.
It was one bright and beautiful morning in May, and all nature seemed to be doing her best. Not a cloud floated in the archway of Heaven and the sun was shining in all the splendor of his brightness. A gentle breeze was blowing from the Sunny South interlaid with the jessamine and orange. The trees were shooting their foliage and proudly looked down upon the velvet green meadows as they lay stretching themselves out in the distance. Ever and anon could be heard the clear notes of the birds as they sand in the dizzy heighth above and made merry in the grove beyond. The ox lay bathing in the sun and the lambs skipped each other in play, while the swallow's swift course was over the meadow and along the winding stream. Spring had come and nature had dressed the world in all the grandeur and splendor of her beauty. There was not a valley, mountain or stream that did not seem to be conscious of the fact, and as the mountain daisy nodded to the lilly-of-the-valley, the rippling stream rolled onward to the sea. I was nonpulsed, not knowing in what direction to take my course, for on every hand there was a lesson to be learned and a principle to be understood.
A love of nature and an inquisitive mind soon had me far beyond the limits of my native town, wandering where the aborigines loved to sail their birch canoe and rove undisputed lords of a country not yet in question. I paused for a moment on a high bluff that overlooked the surrounding country, and there under the branches of a wide spreading tree I watched the merry pranks of a little squirrel as it mounted high in the tops of the trees and then to the ground. It seemed to be unconscious of either present or approaching danger as it lay flat on a limb not far distant from where I was standing. The temptation and opportunity to do it harm was so great that I picked up a small missile that lay at my feet and was in the act of hurling it at the little squirrel when something said, "Live and let live". It came with such force and so impressed itself on my mind that my arm fell to my side and the stone to the ground. It was a jewel memorized when a boy and placed away upon the tablets of my memory to be used when an occasion like this required it. Safety was not with me alone, for when I cast my eyes to the ground, I saw a large snake with head erect moving in the direction of the tree, but my curiosity was not aroused to know the mission of one who had practiced it the first deceit on the human family, so I continued my journey along the historic banks of the Conococheague, for I had knowledge of a hermit that lived in a cave in the hills and was frequently seen when pressed by hunger going to and from the cavern.
My walk was a pleasant one, for it brought me in contact with the wild flowers and the many pretty things as revealed by the hand of God. It was past the hour of noon, for the sun was far in the West, when I came to the Conoco Hills, where the hermit lived. A strange feeling of fear and fancy stole over me as I entered a deep ravine on either side of which rose great and lofty hills, for fear that I would meet the object of my search. I passed out of the ravine and was standing on a small sand bar that jutted out into the creek, when a large owl, hid away in the tops of the trees, gave an unmercifully loud screech, that under the circumstances set me quaking with fear, and before I could gather myself and thoughts together the hermit appeared but a short distance away along the waters edge. He was either unconscious or unmindful of my presence, and I had a good view of him as he stood gazing intently into the water. He was tall and gaunt with long arms and legs. His eyes were deep set and he had an old fashioned Roman nose with high cheek bones and long pointing chin. His hair was long and silvered with gray, so that it fell over his shoulders and came down to his waist. His beard was long and stragly and he reminded me very much of Rip Van Winkle. I must have his attention with the least possible disturbance or my mission will be in vain. I was waiting an opportunity when he looked up and saw me and started up the hill, but before he had gone far his feet slipped and he fell some ten or twelve feet to the bank below, striking his head on a large rock, and lay unconscious. I hurried to his assistance and bathed his head with water from the creek. It was some minutes before he showed signs of life and when he did he opened his eyes and looked at me in a wild bewildered kind of way. I was very kind and offered to assist him in sitting up, but he refused and would not talk. He made the second effort but failed, and then realized that he must have my assistance, which I again offered him, and he accepted. He pointed to the hillside and then for the first time spoke, asking me to assist him to his cave in the hill.
To Be Continued
Continued from last week.
I took his arm and we made our way as best we could from rock to rock and from peak to peak until we came to the entrance of the cave. Here he sat down exhausted from the effort, saying that my kindness was worthy of something and that if I would abide with him a few hours he would confide in me the story of his life. He felt that he was nearing the end of life's journey and was tottering on the way and that he would soon lay down by the wayside and surrender that which was not his own for a new life and a new work. It was his intention to die retaining the secret, but he would tell it to me.
We entered the cave, which was well kept but damp, and which had appearance of long use and of a routine daily life. I watched him closely and he had the bearing and manner of a once high-toned, dignified gentleman and showed every evidence of a finely cultured mind up to July, 1863, after which time it was blank. We seated ourselves around the dying embers of a fire on the floor of the cave, the smoke from which curled to the top and was lost in the darkness. As we sat gazing into the fire he seemed to be meditating on the past, and the grave-like silence remained unbroken for some minutes, when he said:
"I am a Pennsylvanian by birth and when quite young left my home in the North to find a new one in the South. A younger brother followed my example, he going North and locating in Massachusetts. We kept up an occasional correspondence until the breaking out of the late Civil War, when I received his last letter, stating that he had enlisted in a Massachusetts regiment and was coming South. I had heard and read so much about Southern chivalry and the field of honor, that I felt a delicacy in going South for the reason that I entertained views radically different from their and was firmly set in my opinion of emancipation. This feeling was only momentary, however, after traveling through the principal part of the South, I learned to love and admire the people and was not long in locating. The first year rolled around without having anything to do, and finally I became overseer on a large cotton plantation in Alabama. My associations were with the professional and business men of the community, and it afforded me the opportunity of improving a much neglected want, and ere long my conscientious scruples on emancipation, like the snow flake melted under the sun's gentle ray. By industry and economy I accumulated some wealth which I invested in the slave traffic, which was very lucrative, and in the ouree of time returned me a handsome income. I had become a full fledged Southerner in every particular and my confidence in the people and their cause grew as my investments in the slave traffic became heavier. The owner of the cotton plantation over which I had charge became financially embarrassed and disposed of his slaves, which I purchased and turned back upon the plantation at a handsome rental.
"A young lieutenant of the regular army stationed at Charleston, S. C., was paying attention to my employer's youngest daughter, Elvira. He was very attentive and his visits were quite frequent, but in the course of time I noticed a falling og in his social calls and a decided coldness toward myself. I asked Elvira the cause of this and she said that he wanted to press a marriage engagement which she refused. He accused me of being the cause, saying that he knew of the financial relation between myself and her father, and that I owned the daughter as well as the property. I said I will refute this charge, but would be only be too happy to call Elvira my own. She said 'your wish shall be granted.' In the course of a week or ten days and the young lieutenant made a social call and Elvira acquainted him with the facts in the case. He left swearing vengeance, and that evening when I was driving with Elvira into the city I met the lieutenant on his way out. As his carriage neared mine and he saw Elvira at my side he peremptorily and without ceremony said: 'George Thomas, I challenge you to a mortal combat on the field of honor, you to select the place, time and weapons.' Quick as thought I replied, 'I will meet you in the Dismal Swamps of Virginia, March 12, at 9 o'clock a.m., with pistols at twenty paces.' The rest of the details were atranged by our seconds, and on the morning of the 12th, as I drove into the swamp, I saw the lieutenant and his friends clearing away a place for the fight. My second and myself helped in completing the arrangements and at 9 o'clock a. m. they had us twenty paces distant, back to back, with pistols in hand. The command to fire was given and both pistols rang out loud and clear. I felt a stinging sensation in my left side and as I raised my hand to the wound I saw the lieutenant reel and fall. The doctor hurried to his side but he was dead. The ball had entered his left breast directly the heart. My wound needed little attention, which was given when I entered my car-carrlage and hurried away. The news was flashed all over the South, and when Elvira heard it, for fear of my safety, she fell into a stupor and before I could reach her side was dead.
The excitement of the duel had hardly died away until Beauregard fired on Fort Sumpter, when I enlisted in an Alabama regiment in defense of my rights and property. I went all through the war up to 1863, when Lincoln issued his emancipation proclamation, which left me without a dollar in the world. My grievance now was greater than ever and I was only too glad to learn of Lee's intended invasion. I had not only to wait, for the opportunity soon presented itself, and as we drew up our line of battle at Gettysburg I felt that victory would soon perch upon our banners.
"I was in the thickest of the fight on the first, second and third. On the evening of the third, just as the sun was setting in the West, a Massachusetts regiment came out of the woods and charged our regiment on the Baltimore pike. It was lead by a brave young captain, and as he came to the pike, he was struck by a piece of shell and fell mortally wounded. The regiment became demoralized and fell back into the woods. That night I was detailed one of three to bring water from a nearby spring. When we came to the pike where the captain fell I asked a wounded soldier that lay by his side if the captain was dead. Yes, said he, 'and a braver boy never wore the blue than Will Thomas.' 'Will Thomas,' said I, and as I turned him over the moon shown full in his face and I was satisfied that it was my brother. That night I buried him with dead and dying heroes all around him, and as the first gray dawn streaked the Western sky I heard the retreating forces of Lee's mighty army. As we were falling back into Virginia and before we crossed the Potomac I wandered from the army and found my way here to the cave in the Conoco Hills. A few more parting words and George Thomas, the hermit, and I parted forever.
The End
Bibliographic Information: Source copy consulted: Kauffman's Progressive News, Greencastle Press, 2:23 & 24, February 27, 1914 and March 6, 1914
