“It is not in Indian wars”, said an eloquent writer and speaker of a by-gone age,⁠[13] “that heroes are celebrated; but in them they are formed.”—Applied to the subject of this biographical sketch, the remark is partly correct, partly not correct. His brilliant success at New Orleans undoubtedly eclipsed all his former victories; but, had that battle never been fought, it may be questioned whether the Creek campaign would not have established his celebrity as a hero, beyond dispute. Yet it must be admitted, that his military experience was mainly acquired, and his military character formed, amid the hardships and vicissitudes, the trials and dangers, of that campaign. In this respect, he resembles some of the most eminent warriors that America has produced, many of whom laid the foundation of future renown and distinction, in the border wars with the aboriginal inhabitants, which grew out of the discovery and settlement of the country, or the subsequent encroachments of the whites.

The father of Andrew Jackson, though a native of Ireland, was of Scotch descent.—During the reign of Henry II, in 1172, the subjugation of the Emerald Isle was effected,—not so much by the superior bravery of the English soldiery, as by the defection of her own sons. The conquest entailed, on both oppressor and victim, a fruitful legacy of war and bloodshed. It was followed by years of strife and dissension—by centuries of tyrannical misrule on the one hand, and resistance to wrong on the other. Time did not change the character of the Irish peasantry; they were no loyal subjects of their new masters,—neither did they remit their efforts to regain their independence. Among other expedients resorted to by the English government, for confirming their ascendancy, was the confiscation of all the lands in Ulster, and large portions of the other provinces. These were granted to new proprietors, and measures were taken to colonize them from England and Scotland.

The Jackson family emigrated from Scotland at a very remote period, and settled in the county of Antrim. Whether it was on account of their proximity to the ancient seat of the O’Neals, in Tyrone, or their intermarriage and intercourse with the original natives of the country, is unknown; but it is nevertheless certain, that they soon became imbued with the spirit of disaffection that had so long prevailed in that quarter; and when the colonists began to experience the bitterness of oppression, they, too, learned to hate the name and authority of England.

Hugh Jackson, the grandfather of General Jackson, was a linen-draper, and resided near Carrickfergus, on the Lough of Belfast. He had four sons, who were plain respectable farmers, liberal and hospitable, of strict integrity, and, like their forefathers, firm in their adherence to the Church of Scotland. Andrew, the youngest, married Elizabeth Hutchinson, by whom he had two sons, Hugh and Robert, born in Ireland. Tired of the ceaseless turmoil and confusion that distracted the country, and despairing of the success of any attempt to relieve the Irish people from the grievances of which they complained, he sold his farm, and, in 1765, determined to seek a more tranquil and peaceful home in the western wilderness. Accompanied by three of his neighbors, James, Robert, and Joseph Crawford, the first of whom had married a sister of his wife, he embarked for America with his family, and landed in safety, at Charleston, South Carolina.

Dissatisfied with the low country bordering on the coast, the immigrants pushed into the interior of the colony. Lands were purchased, and they all settled near each other, on Waxhaw creek, one of the branches of the Catawba, in Lancaster district, about forty-five miles above Camden, and near the boundary line of North Carolina. Here, in this fine and healthy region, agreeably diversified with hills and dales, and drained by the romantic Catawba, Andrew Jackson, the younger, was born, on the fifteenth day of March, 1767.

Not long after the birth of his third son, the elder Jackson died, leaving to his wife and children a limited property, yet with an honest and unsullied name. A double duty now devolved on the surviving parent. Faithfully and nobly was it discharged. To the resolute firmness and unflinching fortitude of the Spartan mother, she united the piety and resignation, the trustful faith and confidence, of the devoted Christian. Naturally gifted with a strong mind, early disciplined in the school of adversity, and strengthened by Him who is ever the stay and helper of the widow and orphan, no difficulties deterred her from the accomplishment of her high and holy task.

The property of which Mrs. Jackson was left in possession, consisted of a new farm, without slaves; and it required the constant practice of the most rigid economy and prudence, to enable her to provide for the maintenance and education of her three young sons. After her husband’s death, she took charge of Mr. Crawford’s family,—her sister, Mrs. Crawford, being in feeble health. Her two younger sons, Robert and Andrew, remained with her, and the oldest went to reside with a neighbor. Hugh and Robert received only a common-school education; but Andrew was designed by the, perhaps, partial mother, for a more enlarged sphere of usefulness. She intended him for the church, and therefore sent him to the Waxhaw Academy, then under the charge of Mr. Humphries, where he acquired a knowledge of the various English branches taught at that time, and had made considerable progress in the Latin and Greek languages, when the ravages of the revolutionary war, approaching nearer to this remote settlement, put an end to his studies.

Sentiments of patriotism were early imbibed by the sons of Mrs. Jackson. Her instructions, and the example of their friends and kindred, inspired them, in childhood, with an ardent love of liberty. Reminiscences of “father-land” were often mingled with her teachings; she recounted deeds of cruelty and oppression that fired their youthful bosoms with indignation; she told them of the injustice under which their ancestors had suffered, and from which their father had fled; and she reminded them, also, that the same tyrannical power which had perpetrated these wrongs, was endeavoring to reduce the American colonists to a state of abject and hopeless slavery. Soon they beheld the watch-fires of liberty blazing up on every hill-top and mountain, and heard the deep thunders of war echoing through the pine-barrens and savannas of their own sunny clime. The young and middle-aged men, in the Waxhaws and its vicinity, were enrolled in companies, and met frequently for military discipline, while their gray-headed sires looked on approvingly, and bade them never shame the blood from which they sprung.

Boys though they were, the young Jacksons became deeply imbued with the prevailing spirit. This was especially the case with Andrew, who longed for the hour to arrive, when he would be able to shoulder a musket, and perform some doughty enterprise, in defence of the liberties of his country.

The officers charged with, what proved to be the Sisyphian task, of subjugating the colonial rebels, made their first principal efforts in the northern provinces.⁠[14] Foiled, or beaten here, they turned their attention to the South. Savannah was reduced in December, 1778, and South Carolina invaded in the spring of 1779. Among those who marched out to meet the enemy, was Hugh Jackson, the oldest of the three brothers; he belonged to the company commanded by Captain, afterwards Colonel Davie, and was present at the battle of Stono, on the twentieth of June, where he lost his life from the excessive heat of the day. Early in 1780, a more formidable effort was made by the enemy, in South Carolina. Charleston was invested by a strong force, under Sir Henry Clinton, on the thirtieth of March; General Lincoln, then at the head of the southern army, stoutly defended the post, but was compelled to capitulate on the twelfth of May.

After the surrender of Charleston, the British commander divided his army into three columns; one being directed to move up the Savannah river to Augusta, another up the Congaree and Saluda to Ninety-six, and the third, under Lord Cornwallis, up the Wateree to Camden. At this time, there were several detachments, belonging to the American army, in the country, who were not included in the capitulation. One of these, consisting of about four hundred men, with two pieces of artillery, was commanded by Colonel Buford, who, on the advance of Cornwallis, retired up the Catawba, towards Charlotte, in North Carolina. Colonel Tarleton was immediately dispatched, with two hundred and seventy mounted men, in pursuit; by making rapid marches, he came up with the party under Colonel Buford, at the Waxhaw settlement, on the twenty-ninth of May. A brief, but bloody contest, took place; the Americans were soon overcome by the dragoons of Tarleton; quarter was rarely given when demanded; upwards of two hundred and sixty of the detachment were killed, or desperately wounded; and their artillery, with their ammunition and stores, fell into the hands of the enemy.

A great portion of the American soldiers wounded in this conflict were paroled on the spot, and left at the Waxhaws, to the humanity of the inhabitants. The latter were not wanting in kind and generous feelings, and their sympathy was freely bestowed on those who had suffered and endured so much in behalf of the common cause. The meeting-house in the settlement was speedily converted into a hospital; nurses were provided,—Mrs. Jackson offering her services with others; and every attention was paid to the comfort and wants of the unfortunate victims of the brutal ferocity of Tarleton and his followers. This was the first lesson learned by Andrew Jackson from actual observation, in regard to the horrors of war,—and it produced a powerful impression on his mind. So far from being intimidated, however, by the sufferings which he witnessed, his desire for taking part in the struggle was only stimulated and quickened.

Not long after this bloody catastrophe, Lord Rawdon was dispatched by Cornwallis into the Waxhaw settlement, with a large body of troops, to practice the same sanguinary measures which had been adopted in other parts of the province. Upon the fall of Charleston, marauding parties of British dragoons were sent out to scour the country; the timid were conciliated, and the refractory punished; rapine, murder, and violence, were committed with impunity; members of the same family were arrayed against each other, and all were made to suffer the misery and wretchedness ever attendant on civil war. The loyalists, or Tories, gladly hailed the appearance of the British troops; others consented to take protection, as it was called, in the hope, often a mistaken one, of enjoying an immunity from attack; but there were many who refused to waver in their allegiance to the Confederation.

Mrs. Jackson and her two sons, with a number of the Waxhaw settlers, retired before Lord Rawdon, into North Carolina, where they remained for several days, and until he was recalled to Camden. Resistance had now nearly ceased; and the British officers began to flatter themselves with the belief that the province was completely subdued. But a few weeks elapsed, however, ere General Sumter, who resided near the Waxhaws, returned from North Carolina, where he had also been a voluntary exile, and raised the patriot standard, at the head of his small but gallant band. Other partisan corps, under Marion, Pickens, and Davie, were soon formed. Without pay; scantily supplied with clothing and subsistence; provided with guns of every form and calibre, and swords and lances fashioned out of the rude implements of husbandry; and mainly relying for ammunition on their captures from the enemy,—these brave yeomen rendezvoused in the swamps and forests of South Carolina, where they bivouacked, night after night, in the open air, and from which they darted forth on detached parties of British and Tories, like the eagle on its prey.

On the thirtieth of July, General Sumter, with about six hundred men, made an unsuccessful attack on the advanced post of the British, at Rocky Mount. Three desperate efforts demonstrated the impracticability of carrying the enemy’s fortifications, and being entirely without cannon, he was obliged to draw off his command. He was now reïnforced by a party of the Waxhaw settlers, under Colonel Davie, and, on the sixth of August, proceeded against the post at Hanging Rock, midway between Camden and the Waxhaws. The first onset was attended with complete success. The enemy were driven from their camp, and took shelter in the main work. Unfortunately, many of Sumter’s men had fasted so long, that they preferred to search for something to eat and drink, rather than to advance and secure the victory, by carrying the post, which might then have been easily accomplished. A quantity of liquor was found in the camp, and they commenced drinking, in opposition to the urgent remonstrances of their commander. Apprehending the worst consequences if they remained, he resolved to retire to his encampment before they became wholly ungovernable.

The corps of Colonel Davie particularly distinguished itself on this occasion. Prominent among its members, were Lieutenant James Crawford, and Robert and Andrew Jackson,—the latter a mere stripling, but thirteen years of age; yet, in heart and soul, he was a man. This was his first battle, and the accounts we have of it show that both he and his brother rendered good service.

Ten days after this affair, General Gates was terribly defeated by Lord Cornwallis, and, two days later, General Sumter, overburdened with baggage and prisoners—having recently captured a convoy of British stores, with their escort, coming up from Charleston to Camden—was surprised by Colonel Tarleton, and his band routed and dispersed. Following up the advantage he had gained, Cornwallis marched with his whole army, on the eighth of September, in the direction of Charlotte, whither the remnant of Gates’ army had fled. On his approach to the Waxhaw settlement, Mrs. Jackson again retired into North Carolina, passing through Charlotte, on her way to Guilford county, on the morning of the day upon which the British van approached the town. She was accompanied by her two sons, neither of whom, on account of their youth, was yet permanently attached to a military corps.

Cornwallis soon found great difficulty in maintaining himself at Charlotte. His communications with the seaboard were cut off, and his supplies intercepted, by the partisans; and his position became still more embarrassing, upon the defeat, and almost total annihilation, of Major Ferguson’s command, at King’s Mountain, on the seventh of October. He therefore determined to retreat, before he was entirely surrounded by the aroused and patriotic militia of the Carolinas. On the fourteenth of October, he retraced his steps to the Waxhaws, and shortly after established himself at Winnsborough, where he awaited the arrival of reinforcements.

Besides other affairs, of minor importance, but equally honorable to the American cause, the battle of the Cowpens, and the masterly retreat of General Greene, took place during the ensuing winter, while Mrs. Jackson and her sons, with other Waxhaw settlers, remained in North Carolina. Early in February, 1781, Cornwallis crossed the Yadkin, in pursuit of Greene; and she and her friends thereupon returned to their homes, although they were in the immediate vicinity of the British posts, and the country around was full of armed parties of Tories, whose cruelties and enormities were every day becoming more barbarous and revolting.

The struggle now began to assume, especially in the Carolinas, a yet more direful aspect. A fierce war of extermination was waged between Whigs and Tories. The two parties, or factions—call them what we may—could not exist on the same soil. The former had imperilled everything in the effort to secure their independence, and they fought for the safety, not merely of themselves, but of their wives and children, their property, their all! Boys, as well as men, engaged in this bloody warfare, and it was amid its trying scenes, that the stern and inflexible daring and resolution were formed and manifested, which distinguished Andrew Jackson in after life.

The two young Jacksons kept their horses and guns, like their neighbors, and were always ready for any enterprise of danger or difficulty. Among other services which they performed, was that of keeping guard at the houses of the Whig officers who resided near them, when they desired to visit their families. The conduct of Andrew on one of these occasions,—his rapidity of thought and action,—afforded a signal presage of future ability:⁠—

A captain in the colonial service, by the name of Lands, desired to spend a night with his family, at his house, on the right bank of the Catawba, a short distance below the mouth of the Waxhaw. Robert and Andrew Jackson, one of the Crawfords, and five other men, including a recent deserter from the British army, constituted his guard. With the captain, there were nine men, and but seven muskets. Having no apprehensions of an attack, they laid down on their arms, upon the floor of the house, and all went to sleep, except the deserter, whose fears of a recapture kept him awake. Meantime a party of Tories, who had been apprised of Lands’ return, were on the way to surprise and kill him. The house was approached on the south, by a road leading through a wood. The Tories gained the rear of the stable, that stood in one corner of the inclosed yard around the house, unobserved. Behind this their horses were tied, and, dividing into two parties, they then advanced against the dwelling, which had two doors; one facing the east,—in front of which was a forked apple tree,—and the other the west.

The deserter, who remained on the watch, hearing a noise about the stable, went out to discover from whence it proceeded. He had gone, but a few steps from the door, when he descried the party of Tories approaching the east end of the building. Instantly darting back, he caught Andrew Jackson, who lay nearest the door, by the hair, crying out in alarm, “The Tories are upon us—the Tories are upon us!” Andrew was on his feet in a moment; seizing his gun, he darted out of the house, and thrusting the piece through the fork of the apple tree, loudly hailed the advancing party. No answer was given. He repeated the hail,—still there was no reply. He then fired, and at the same instant a volley was returned by the enemy, which killed the deserter, who stood at his side. This prompt movement on his part, however, saved the inmates of the house. The first party of Tories were brought to a stand, and, in the darkness, their fire was mistaken by their comrades, who were moving towards the west door, for that of a sallying party. The latter also halted, and a brisk fire commenced between the two parties. After discharging his piece, Andrew Jackson returned into the house, and, with two others, commenced firing from the west door. Both his companions were shot down, one of them being mortally wounded; but he escaped untouched. The two bands of Tories still continued to pour their volleys into each other, and upon the house, till they were alarmed by the notes of a cavalry trumpet, sounding the charge, in the distance, when they mounted their horses, and fled in hot haste. The charge was sounded by a Major Isbel, who was in the neighborhood, but had not a single man with him. He had heard the firing, and, presuming that Lands’ house was attacked, had taken this means to alarm the assailants, which fortunately proved effectual.

After the departure of Cornwallis from South Carolina, Lord Rawdon, whose head-quarters were at Camden, was left in command. By this time, the stubborn patriotism of the Waxhaw settlers was well understood; and on being advised of their return, he dispatched Major Coffin, with a corps of light dragoons, a company of infantry, and a number of Tories, to capture them. On being informed of their danger, the settlers resolved that they would no longer fly, but maintain their ground at all hazards. A day was appointed for the male inhabitants in the settlement, capable of bearing arms, to assemble at the Waxhaw meeting-house, which was fixed upon as the place of rendezvous. Punctual, at the time and place, about forty of the settlers,—Robert and Andrew Jackson being among the number,—had collected, and were waiting for a friendly company, under Captain Nesbit, when they saw what they supposed to be the expected reïnforcement,—but which, in reality, was the detachment of Major Coffin, with the Tories, who wore the usual dress of the country, in front,—approaching at a rapid rate. The deception was not discovered, till the British dashed in among them, cleaving down all who stood in their way. Eleven of the party were taken prisoners; the remainder sprang upon their horses, and most of them made their escape.

Andrew Jackson was accompanied in his flight, by his cousin, Lieutenant Thomas Crawford; but, in passing over a piece of marshy ground, the horse of the latter mired and fell, and he was wounded and taken prisoner. Young Jackson shortly after encountered his brother, who had also eluded pursuit. They remained together during the night, and, at dawn on the following morning, concealed themselves in a dense thicket, on the bank of Cain Creek, near the house of Lieutenant Crawford. During the day they became very hungry, and, deeming themselves secure, ventured out to the house. A boy was directed to watch the road; but while* they were satisfying their hunger, a band of Tories and dragoons, who had discovered their retreat, and captured their horses and guns, which were left behind them, suddenly made their appearance, and surrounded the house. Resistance could be of no avail, and escape was impossible. They therefore surrendered themselves prisoners of war.

Not content with the capture of the two young men, the dragoons and Tories commenced abusing and maltreating Mrs. Crawford and her children. The crockery and furniture in the house were broken in pieces; and the beds and bedding, and all the clothing of the family, including that of an infant at the breast, was torn into shreds. While the work of destruction was going on, the British officer, in command of the party, directed Andrew Jackson to clean the mud from his boots. As might be supposed, he indignantly refused to do the menial office. Enraged at this reply, the officer drew his sword, and aimed a dastard blow at the head of his unarmed prisoner. The latter parried it with his left hand, but, in so doing, received a cut, the scar of which was carried to his grave. Disappointed in the spirit of the intrepid youth, the officer turned to his brother, and required him to perform the task. Robert likewise refused; a furious blow from the infuriated Briton, was the consequence; and a wound was inflicted, from the effect of which his victim never recovered.

Andrew Jackson was then placed on a horse, and directed, under a threat of instant death if he refused, to guide the party to the house of Major Thompson, a well-known Whig, who lived below Crawford’s, on the same side of the stream. Fearing that Thompson might be at home, our hero resorted to a stratagem to save him; which, though it might naturally have suggested itself to his mind, seems strange enough when we reflect that it was not only conceived, but executed, by a lad scarcely fourteen years of age.—Leading the party by a circuitous route, he brought them within full view of Thompson’s house, at the distance of a half mile. Nothing more was necessary. The dragoons spurred onward, but they were still several hundred yards distant, when they saw the major issue forth, mount his horse, which, as was then customary, was kept ready saddled, and dash towards the creek. The British darted after him in pursuit, but reached the stream only in time to hear his loud shout of defiance, as he rode leisurely off along the opposite bank. The current was so much swollen by the influx during the rainy season, that they dare not attempt to cross it, and therefore reluctantly abandoned the chase.

After this unsuccessful attempt to capture the Whig officer, the two Jacksons, with about twenty other prisoners, were mounted on captured horses, and the party set out on their return to Camden. Not a mouthful of food, or drop of water, was given them on the road; and when they reached Camden, they were thrust into a redoubt surrounding the jail, in which some two hundred and fifty prisoners, besides those taken at the Waxhaws, were confined. Here they were stripped of part of their clothing,—Andrew losing his jacket and shoes; their wounds were undressed; no attention was paid to their wants; and when the relationship between the two Jacksons and Lieutenant Crawford was discovered, they were instantly separated, and kept in ignorance of each other’s fate. The Provost was a Tory from New York, who, it was afterwards said, took the provisions intended for the prisoners, to feed a number of negroes whom he had collected from different Whig plantations, with the intention of disposing of them for his own benefit. Be that as it may, the prisoners were but sparingly supplied with bad bread; and to add to their wretchedness, the smallpox appeared among them, and made frightful ravages.

Amid the accumulated horrors of his prison-house, with sickness and starvation staring him in the face, the groans of the dying constantly ringing in his ears, and hourly exposed to the ill-treatment of his captors,—Andrew Jackson never lost the fearlessness of spirit which ever distinguished him. Availing himself of a favorable opportunity, he boldly remonstrated with the officer of the guard, in behalf of himself and his suffering companions. His remonstrances had the desired effect; meat was added to the rations, and, in other respects, the condition of the prisoners was decidedly improved.

Matters were in this situation, when General Greene returned from North Carolina, in April, 1781, and encamped, with his army, on Hobkirk’s Hill, a little over a mile north of Camden, waiting only the arrival of his cannon, before making his dispositions to assault the post.

On the morning of the twenty-fourth of April, Andrew Jackson discovered indications of a design to attack General Greene. The jail and redoubt stood on the eminence upon which Camden is situated, and a fine view would have been afforded of the encampment on Hobkirk’s Hill, had not the British taken the precaution to construct a high and tight plank fence on the redoubt, immediately after the arrival of the American army in the neighborhood. He was determined, nevertheless, to obtain a view of the anticipated conflict; and, by working nearly all night, with an old razor-blade, furnished the prisoners to cut their rations, he succeeded in digging out a knot in one of the planks. When Lord Rawdon led out his men, on the morning of the twenty-fifth, for a bold stroke at the American leader, Andrew mounted the breastwork, and placed himself at the look-out, while his fellow prisoners gathered in groups below him, listening attentively, as he detailed the varied incidents of the day.

His voice was tremulous with apprehension, as he informed his companions, that the Americans had been taken unawares, and their pickets were driven in; it was pitched to a louder key, when the cannon of Greene opened their brazen throats, and vomited forth torrents of flame and iron, tearing and rending through the British columns; again it sank, as the enemy rallied, and pushed boldly forward; it rose once more, when the regiments of Ford and Campbell pressed gallantly upon their flanks—when Washington and his brave dragoons came thundering down in their rear—and he caught sight of the glistening bayonets of the 1st Maryland, and the Virginians, as they prepared to charge home upon their assailants; it fell again, as the veteran regiment of Gunby recoiled before the British fire, and died away into a whisper, when all hope of deliverance vanished, as the beaten, but not routed Greene, retired slowly over the hill, and the pursuit was only checked by the timely charge of Washington’s cavalry.

The Jacksons were not deserted by one friend, in their confinement—the mother who had reared them to serve their country, and who knew no prouder joy, than to see them do their duty well. She followed them to Camden, to aid and succor them, and, soon after the battle of Hobkirk’s Hill, procured their exchange, with five of their neighbors, for thirteen British soldiers, captured by a Whig partisan captain, by the name of Walker. Pale, emaciated, barefooted, almost naked, and infected with the smallpox, they presented themselves before their surviving parent. The wound in Robert’s head had never been dressed; and this, in connection with hunger, and the disease that had fastened itself upon him, had reduced him so low, that he was unable even to ride, except as he was held on a horse.

There were but two horses for the whole party, consisting of Mrs. Jackson and her sons, and the other released prisoners, who accompanied them home. Mrs. Jackson rode one, and Robert was supported on the other by his companions. Thus wearily and sadly, did they perform their melancholy journey of more than forty miles, through a country blighted by the ravages of war, as if the lightnings of Heaven had scathed it. Within two hours’ ride of the Waxhaws, they were overtaken by a shower of rain, by which the company were completely drenched. The smallpox was driven in on both the boys; Robert died in two days; and Andrew at once became delirious. The fever raged violently for several days, and his case was regarded nearly hopeless. The kind nursing of his patient and devoted mother, and the attentions of his physician, at length triumphed over the disease, and restored him to consciousness and health.

He had scarcely recovered his strength, when his mother, with characteristic energy and fortitude, in company with four or five other ladies, providing themselves with such necessaries as could be conveniently carried on horseback, set out to visit a number of the Waxhaw settlers, including some of the Crawfords, who had been taken by the enemy, and were confined on board the Charleston prison-ship—whose history, like that of the Old Jersey, at New York, is but a tale of unmitigated horror and suffering. These good Samaritan women reached Charleston, obtained permission to visit the vessel—a privilege that had always been refused to relatives and friends of the other sex—and delivered the supplies which they had brought. Mrs. Jackson, however, never returned from this errand of love and mercy. Enfeebled by constant care and privation, worn down by the numerous hardships and fatigues which she had endured, she was seized with the fever prevailing among the prisoners, which soon terminated her existence. She was buried near the enemy’s lines, in the vicinity of Charleston, in an unknown grave;—but her memory, in after times, was doubly honored, as that of the noble, self-sacrificing mother, of Andrew Jackson!

Solitary and alone, her orphan son, at the time when he most needed the care and advice of a parent, was cast upon the world, to buffet, as he might, the billows of adverse fortune. His home was, indeed, desolate. Like Logan, there ran not a drop of his blood in the veins of any living creature. Mother and brothers,—all had perished—the victims of English cruelty!—Is it to be wondered, then, that he cherished such a feeling of animosity towards the British name; or that he hated everything akin to oppression, with a hatred so deep and fervent?

Early in the summer of 1781, the British voluntarily evacuated, or were driven from, all their advanced posts outside of Orangeburg. General Greene retired with his army, during the hot season, to the hills of Santee, but again made his appearance in the lower country, near the close of the month of August, with his command refreshed and reïnvigorated. In September, he fought the indecisive battle at Eutaw Springs. The palm of victory was disputed, but the substantial advantages of the action were his; and when the campaign closed, the enemy were cooped up in Charleston and Savannah.—In October, the war was finally terminated, by the surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown.

After the evacuation of Camden, the Waxhaw settlers, or rather, those of them who had survived the perils of war, found the security and repose which had so long been denied. Andrew Jackson remained, for some time subsequent to the death of his mother, at the house of Major Thomas Crawford; but, in consequence of a difficulty with Captain Galbraith, an American commissary, whose quarters were at the same place, and who became offended with him for some trifling cause, he afterwards entered the family of Mr. Joseph White, an uncle of Mrs. Crawford. Mr. White’s son was a saddler, and Andrew, though suffering all the while with the fever and ague, entered his shop, and assisted him as far as he was able.

Unfortunately for him, the enemy still remained in the possession of Charleston, and many of its wealthiest and most polished citizens resided, temporarily, at the Waxhaws, and in the neighborhood. It was quite natural, in the reäction of his ardent temperament, after the first shock of his sad bereavement had passed away, that a carelessness and recklessness of disposition should be manifested. His associates were the young men from the city, and, with them, he spent most of his time in idle sports and amusements. The studies, which had been necessarily interrupted during the war, were totally neglected; his books were thrown aside; and a large portion of his little patrimony was squandered, in the vain effort to compete with his more wealthy associates, in the liberality of his expenditures. When they returned to Charleston, in the winter of 1784, he followed them on a fine mare belonging to him. He found some of his old companions in the tavern where he stopped, with whom he engaged in a game of dice, called “Rattle and Snap.” His mare was staked against a sum of money—and he won. Inspired by a sudden thought, he pocketed the money, paid his bill, and returned home; with a determination, to which he inflexibly adhered, to change his course of life.

How many there are, who would have yielded, like Andrew Jackson, to the Circean charms and fascinations of a career of dissipation!—how few, like him, would have paused at the very entrance of the vortex, and, in an instant, effected an entire reformation!—The descent to Avernus is easy, said the Cumæan Sibyl:⁠—

Had he remained in Charleston another day, perhaps another hour, he might have gone down to an early grave, unhonored and unlamented. Though he came off conqueror in a dozen well-fought fields, this was the noblest of his victories—the conquest over himself!

Arrived at the Waxhaws, young Jackson collected together the remains of his small property, and, bidding adieu to his friends, repaired to Salisbury, in North Carolina; where he commenced the study of the law, in the office of Spruce McCay, an eminent counsellor, and afterwards a distinguished judge of that state. His untiring industry and zeal, his talents, and his correct and manly deportment, soon won the favorable esteem of Judge McCay, and other prominent citizens of North Carolina, whose acquaintance he formed. His professional studies were completed under Colonel John Stokes, and, in 1786, he was admitted to the bar. He remained in the state about two years subsequent to this, constantly gaining ground in the regard of his new friends and acquaintances; and in 1788, at the age of twenty-one, without solicitation on his part, he was appointed by the governor, solicitor for the western district, which afterwards became the state of Tennessee.

Near the close of the year 1788, in company with John McNairy, the newly appointed judge of the western district, he crossed the mountains, for the purpose of entering upon his official duties, and establishing himself in practice. Jonesborough was then the principal seat of justice, and they remained there for several months.

The country was rapidly filling up with the hunters of North Carolina and Virginia,—“the pioneers of civilization,”—who fearlessly entered the unbroken forest, with the axe in one hand and the rifle in the other. The territory lying between the Ohio and Tennessee rivers had long before received the name of Kentuckeè, or the “Bloody Land,” on account of its being the battle, as well as the hunting ground, of the Northern and Southern Indians. The valley of the Cumberland river contained some of the most fertile and beautiful lands, and abounded in the finest game. The principal tide of emigration, therefore, naturally turned in this direction, notwithstanding the settlers thereby brought upon themselves the animosity of both parties of Indians.

In 1789, Judge McNairy, and his friend, first visited the infant settlements on the Cumberland, including that at French Creek, near the present site of Nashville. Most of the settlers resided in stations,—frequently built on the stamping grounds of the buffalo,—which were usually connected by the traces of the wild beasts, that everywhere intersected the surrounding forests. The log cabin was the abode of all classes,—but these primitive dwellings were, perhaps, oftener tenanted by happiness and joy, than the marble palaces of the great and opulent. Theirs was a life of peril, indeed; but it was well suited to Jackson’s adventurous disposition, and he gladly shared their dangers and vicissitudes, and participated in their sports and festivities.

He was still undecided in regard to locating permanently in the district, when he arrived at the settlements on the Cumberland. He found, however, that the debtor class constituted a large proportion of the population, and that, having retained the only lawyer in West Tennessee in their interest, they were enabled to set their creditors at defiance. The latter flocked around him in crowds, and in a few days after his arrival he issued a great number of writs. Threats of personal violence were employed, in vain, to intimidate him; they had only the opposite effect, and induced him to remain, and establish himself in the neighborhood of Nashville. At that time there were no hotels, or regular boarding-houses, in the country, and none were needed,—as travellers, men of business, and professional men, were cheerfully entertained by private families. Jackson, and the late Judge Overton, boarded together, with Mrs. Donelson, the widow of Colonel John Donelson, who had, some years previous, emigrated from Virginia to Kentucky, and thence to Tennessee.

Business of a public, or private nature, often called Jackson to Jonesborough, about two hundred miles distant from Nashville, from which it was separated by a dense wilderness, with only here and there a small station. In those days, a journey was not the pastime which it has latterly become; and the traveller enjoyed few of the comforts, and none of the luxuries, which modern civilization has introduced. A horse; a rifle, to be slung over the shoulder; a hunting knife; a portmanteau, containing a few clothes and provisions; and a blanket,—constituted his preparations for the road. Sometimes journeys were performed singly, but, more generally, in companies. At night, the travellers lighted a fire with a tinder-box, or the flash of a rifle; and their horses were picketed. If they were supplied with bacon, or game, it was roasted on a stick; otherwise, jerked meat, parched maize, and the tough corn-dodger, formed their frugal repast. After partaking of this, sentinels were posted, if an attack from the Indians was apprehended; and, wrapping themselves in their blankets, they lay down to sleep, with naught but the blue canopy of heaven over their heads.

Numerous anecdotes are related of the fearlessness and intrepidity displayed by Andrew Jackson, when performing these weary pilgrimages through the forests of Tennessee. On one occasion, in the month of March, he was on his way from Jonesborough to the Cumberland, with three companions, and reached the east side of the Emory, just below the gap in the mountains, shortly after dark. The fires of a large party of Indians being discovered on the opposite bank, he instantly assumed the direction of affairs, and, enjoining silence upon his comrades, led them back some distance into the mountains. They then left the road at different points, in order to elude pursuit,—reunited again, and proceeded up the stream, until two o’clock in the afternoon of the following day, when they attempted to cross it, at a basin between two cataracts.

A raft was constructed of logs bound firmly together with hickory withes, upon which their clothes, blankets, saddles, rifles and ammunition, were placed; Jackson and one of his companions intending to cross first with these, and then, at a second trip, with their comrades, to swim the horses over alongside the raft. But on pushing from the shore, the under-tow seized the frail craft, and hurried it rapidly down the stream. Jackson and his friend vainly exerted themselves to arrest its progress; they were fast nearing the brink of the cataract, when the former, wrenching one of the rude oars from its fastenings, sprang to the stern, and braced himself there; at the same time holding out the oar to his companions on shore. They eagerly seized it, and drew the raft safe to land, just as it was quivering on the edge of the fall. On being chided for his too venturesome disposition, Jackson replied, “A miss is as good as a mile; you see how near I can graze danger—come on, and I will save you yet.”—The route up the stream was now resumed, and, after spending another night, supperless, in the woods, they found a ford the next day, at which they crossed, and ultimately reached a log cabin on the road, about forty miles in rear of the Indian encampment.

At another time, he reached Bean’s Station, the appointed rendezvous of a party with whom he designed to cross the wilderness, on the evening after they had left. Nowise daunted by the perils of the way, he provided himself with a guide, and set out to overtake them. He travelled all night, and, in the gray of the morning, came to the fires just deserted by the party before him. Pushing on, with increased speed, he soon discovered the trail of a body of Indians, twenty-two in number, who were evidently pursuing his friends in front. He still followed on, until he was close upon the savages, when the guide began to hesitate about advancing further, and finally refused, absolutely, to proceed. This was an unexpected dilemma, but Jackson neither feared danger, nor was he the man to desert his friends. Dividing provisions with his timid guide, the latter returned to the station, and he continued on cautiously, in the opposite direction. Presently he found that the Indians had turned off to the right, as he supposed, to get ahead of the party, and lay an ambush for them, or attack them at night. He at once hastened forward with greater rapidity, and came up with his friends, as they were preparing to encamp for the night. Being apprised of their danger, in a few moments they were again in motion, and continued their march without halting, till the evening of the next day. Nothing further was heard from the Indians, till the party had reached their destination, in safety; when it was ascertained that a company of hunters, who had refused to shelter them in their log cabins, had been murdered by the same band of savages from whom they had so fortunately escaped.

Besides crossing the wilderness intervening between Jonesborough and the Cumberland twenty-two times, while the country was yet new, Jackson frequently volunteered, with others, to go out and meet parties of emigrants from Virginia, or the Carolinas, who were escorted half way by their friends in the states, or the settlers in East Tennessee. The same service was often performed for emigrants, or travellers, going from Nashville to Lexington. An occasion of this kind furnished him an opportunity to display his gallantry as well as bravery:—He was proceeding with a company, from Nashville to Lexington, among whom was a lady going to join her husband at the latter place. The second night out, she was suddenly taken sick, and, in the morning, was unable to proceed on her journey. Disregarding her situation, a number of the party prepared their horses as usual, and were about to resume the march. Jackson earnestly remonstrated against leaving the woman alone in the forest, but, finding words of no avail, and that they insisted on proceeding, he levelled his rifle, and solemnly declared that he would shoot the first man who put foot in the stirrup. His companions cowed before the chivalric rage that lighted up his cheek, and kindled in his eye; and they consented to remain for a day at the encampment, at the expiration of which the lady was able to travel.

As the settlers in Kentucky were exposed to the irruptions of the Shawanese, so those in Tennessee were liable to similar visitations from the Choctaws and Cherokees. Whenever the savages had committed any depredations, volunteer parties were always formed to pursue them. Andrew Jackson was usually one of the first to make his appearance at the rendezvous. He once accompanied a party, between forty and fifty strong, under Colonel Elijah Robertson, on an expedition of this character, to the head of a creek flowing into Duck river. It was then proposed, that a part of the company should penetrate through the cane-brakes, a distance of ten miles, to the river, where the Indians were supposed to have encamped. Colonel R. Weakly, with Jackson and fifteen others, volunteered for the enterprise. It was accomplished with great gallantry; the savages were surprised, and fled without firing a gun,—leaving their camp, and their arms and ammunition, in the hands of their pursuers.

Jackson was repeatedly engaged in affairs of the same kind, and acquired a high, and wide-spread reputation, for his bravery and skill. He also became well-known to the red warriors, and received from them the epithets of “Sharp Knife” and “Pointed Arrow.” The most important expedition in which he was concerned, was undertaken in 1794, when a large party from Nashville and its neighborhood, including himself, proceeded against the Indian town of Nickajack, near the Tennessee river, and razed it to the ground.