A SUMMER RAMBLE - 1889
Published in Fayetteville Observer [Fayetteville, North Carolina] 10 Jan. 1889
Contact: Myrtle Bridges

	We left our readers recently at Long Street, in Western Cumberland, and resume the incidents of out travel towards Quewhiffle.
When we first saw this spot forty years ago, the old church, known as "McKay's Meeting House," was standing just a little west of present 
church edifice. Rev. Evander McNair, one of the most eloquent preachers o Fayetteville Presbytery, was then the pastor, and most acceptable 
to the descendants of the Covenanters and of the adherents of Prince Charles Edward, "who believed in John Knox," and who came in crowds to 
hear him. We remember the McLauchlin's, Murchison's, McDiarmid's, the McFadyen's, Ray's, Finlayson's, McCall's, Blues and many others who 
attended church here in those days. All the heads of families have passed away and another generation appears upon the scene. "That is a 
good country," said an ex Confederate to us recently, "I had some experience there in 1865. I was released from prisoner at Governor's Island, 
and arrived in Raleigh just as Sherman was approaching that city. I started, in company with other Confederates, towards the South to avoid 
capture, and after traverling several days we reached the country west of Fayetteville. We suffered from hunger and gold, and I was taken 
sick with typhoid fever. I remember that my comrades asked at several places for shelter for me, but they were refused, as the people were 
robbed of every comfort. I walked for miles supported by a comrade on each side till we reached a spring near a factory. A Scotch gentleman 
whose hom had been plundered by the Yankees, found us there and had me conveyed to his house and placed me in a feather bed, a luxury I had 
not enjoyed in four years. You can just imagine how a lousy, ragged, hungry, sick soldier felt. No protest would avail against such kindness. 
Every particle of medicine that could be found was given me, and on the following day I was able to travel, and bade my Scotch friends adieu. 
I shall always cherish a kind recollection of the kindness of that Scotch family, and of a son-in-law of the old gentleman, a young minister. 
After a long tramp for a sick man, I chanced to call at the house of another Scotchman,and there I found Scotch hospitality again. Well! I 
will always hurrah for the Scotch."
	It was the custom here for a long period for the men to arrange at church to assist any of their acquaintance who were in distress, and 
many a crop was ploughed and gathered by Scotch neighbors. The longevity of the people in this section is worth of notice. Neill Ray and 
Angus Finlayson, both lived over one hundred years. James Monk who lived towards the west, in the county of Moore, reached 105 years. 
"Doubting Thomas"can fight parish registers and Bible records on this point to their hearts' content, but the facts are incontrovertible. 
Among the graves in the ancient cemetery here are those of Alexander Graham and his wife Mary McCormic Graham, who fled from persecution in 
Scotland in 1780, and after a journey on foot from Charleston, S.C., to Archibald McLaurin's in Cumberland, found rest from life's troubles 
in this quiet spot.
	We spent part of a day in 1873 in looking for the heather planted here in 1750 by the McNatts. A bunch of it was sent us afterwards by 
an old gentleman who knew the locality, with the verse of an old Jacobite song attached, "Come a' the gither, come through the heather" 
"And live or diew wi' Charlie."
	Scotch broadcloth was made here and the tradition is that the burs of the Scotch thistle were used in dressing it. We remember to have 
seen coats made from cloth manufactured by the McFadyen's, who had a "filling mill" a few miles from this spot. The thistle and the heather 
(freodh) still grow in this region, so full of traditions and Scotch virtues.
	Wishing to visit the battlefield of "Monroe's Farm," a few miles to the west we took a lingering look at the old cemetery and monument 
to the Confederate dead, while children were playing on the hillside as they played" just forty years ago." Among the early Scotch who 
settled here was a man named Urguhart, a professional Scotch piper when he become extremely old he wandered with his pipes from house to 
house, a welcome visitor at every fireside. In travelling through these hills he frequently got lost and he would ascend a hill and play 
"Campbell's are coming," or some other air. The shrill notes of the pipes could be heard for miles, and men with torches would at once go 
to his rescue. While lost on one occasion he played a lively Scotch air in close proximity to a camp of some emigrants from Sampson county 
who were on their way to Georgia. A stampede followed, and the frightened people fled on foot to Fayetteville, and reported that the devil 
with a wild goose under his arm had attacked their camp. The writer once got lost in this region and traveled many miles without finding a 
residence, till we gave our horse the rein when he immediately changed his course, and after several miles of travel brought us to the 
hospitable mansion of Israel Gaddy, Esq. We had eaten out last meal at the house of James Dalrymple McIver, in Moore, and relished supper 
about midnight at Mr. Gaddy's.
	"The supper done, wi' serious face, we round the ingle formed a circle wide," to hear Mrs. Gaddy relate the incidents of the great 
battle fought on the farm in '65. The number of killed on the field, we believe, was 56, while many wounded died in the neighborhood; and 
are buried at Long Street. It was a desperate cavalry fight, and several hundred horses were killed in the action. Changes have occurred 
since our former visit, and one can scarce imagine that this quiet place was ever disturbed by charging squadrons, and the air filled with 
hissing shot and shell. After the house was plundered by Gen. Kilpatrick, his army encamped around the dwelling while the General occupied 
a room therein. Hampton's cavalry encamped on the hills in sight, and at daylight on the morning of March 10th commenced the attack on the 
Federal lines. The latter were routed, and Gen Kilpatrick escaped in his "cutty sark" on a mule without a saddle. His mule stuck fast in 
the mud of Anderson's Creek and the General, barefooted, made his way to the South and dressed himself in the homesput suit of a Scotchman 
whom he robbed. One of his female couriers was killed, and was buried just nurth of the Monroe dwelling. The other was last seen a prisoner 
in Fayetteville with Hampton's cavalry. But little notice has been taken of the battle fought here, but there is abundant evidence that it 
was a hotly contested fight. Among the prisoners who escaped here from Kilpatrick was a Condederate captain and distinguished graduate of 
the University. On the night previous to the battle he was within three miles of his father's residence, but seemed to have no knowledge 
of the fact, for on the following morning in making his escape he passed his former home without recognizing it. Long and weary marches 
had rendered him indifferent to the surroundings.
	"Tell me about Quewhille." Said a corespondend of the Richmond Enquirer in 1873, to Sheriff Hardie at Fayetteville. "I have been 
connected with the sheriff's office for many years," was the reply, "and I will say that all the fees for serving warrants in that region 
were put together, they would not be enough to pickle the brains of a jay bird."
	The name Quewhiffle carries us back 158 years, to 1730, when the clan Quewhiffle left Scotland for America. The clan was few in 
number, and settled in what is now Cumberland, and afterwards extending westward to Richmond county. (Hoke was formed in 1911 from 
Cumberland and Robeson. The area mentioned above is in Hoke County today. At time of this publication, Richmond shared a common border with 
Cumberland and Robeson - Bridges)

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Last up-dated September 3, 2022