An entertaining picture of Northeastern Carolina as seen through the eyes of a visiting Yankee is presented in the following sketch by Charles Reeve Hunt of Ithaca, New York, who came here recently to visit his daughter, Miss Genevieve Hunt, instructor in history and English in the Elizabeth City High School.
Mr. Hunt obviously discerns much romance in this part of the South which hides itself from most of the folks living here, largely by reason of its very nearness. He writes vividly, and his account of a trip through this section holds more than usual interest, even for the reader to whom the facts set forth are as a familiar face.
By Charles Reeve Hunt
On reaching Norfolk, we took the train for Elizabeth City, North Carolina, a ride of 50 miles over level country, flat as the flattest prairie. The Great Dismal Swamp, here, arrests the attention by two features—its impregnability and the swamp canal surveyed by Washington in 1785.
Either of these would swamp the writer who attempts a full description in a newspaper article.
But the canal may first have a glimpse. It has been purchased by the Government. Incidentally I saw the pen used by President Coolidge last March when he signed the bill fo the purchase. The pen is with the Elizabeth City Chamber of Commerce. The width of the canal at the bottom is 50 feet and at the surface is 90 feet. It was not opened for traffic until 1820, and has been in operation most of the time since.
The original canal helped make much history in the Civil War, and, in possession of the Government, its possibilities are great. It connects with the Elizabeth River—thence easily with the coast. Ohio and Indiana farmers have bought land here and report a remarkable fertility, and the value in the drained districts is $150 to $200 per acre. Most of this land is 22 feet above tidewater, proving that the whole swamp region may be drained successfully.
Interminable Difficulties
The Great Dismal Swamp, invincible for centuries, is at last yielding to the skill of modern engineering. A new highway recently has been put through the region, connecting Gates and Pasquotank counties, which promises untold agricultural and commercial advantages. Interminable difficulties have been in the way of this road construction. Great cypress trees in corduroy fashion have been buried under some eight feet of soil, overlayed with clay, which in due time will receive a coat of cement.
On reaching Elizabeth City, we found preparation in evidence for the celebration of the feat of building a highway through this mighty morass. In this, the group of counties lying in the northeast corner of the Old North State were to take part.
The hearty congratulations of these counties—pro and con and everywhere—were given expression in the speeches, music and a free barbecue in the court yard to more than 6,000 participants. Who says the Old North State is not coming to the front!
The region of the old swamp has ever been suggestive. It has many stories to tell. One of them is of Horace Greeley’s investment here. In the adjustment of matters after the Civil War, Mr. Greeley became acquainted with Matchell Taylor, interested in the welfare of the negroes, wrote Taylor, to purchase 1,000 acres of land cheaply which, he, Greeley, would sell to the blacks on a very liberal terms to them in founding homes. Taylor at once became philanthropic and bought the requisite acres right in the shades of the Great Dismal Swamp. Of course the land could not be cultivated, and Greely had his only satisfaction in a lawsuit by which he won the swam land to himself.
Where Ghosts Linger
The great Swamp has ever been suggestive, too, of spooks and hobgoblins, and there is one ghoulish incident right here that was pictured graphically by the pen of Sir Thomas Moore, the Irish poet.
When in Norfolk he heard the story of the enamored youth who imagined his deceased amoretti had been lost in the Dismal Swamp and still wandered in its gloomy morasses. Accordingly, Moore pictured the incident in a touching ballad, two verses of which are given here:
They made her a grave too cold and damp
For a soul so warm and true.
And she’s gone to the Lake of The Dismal Swamp
Where all night long by a firefly lamp
She paddles her white canoe.
Away to the Dismal Swamp he speeds
His path was rugged and sore,
Through tangled Juniper, bed of reeds,
Through many a fern where the serpent feeds,
And man never trod before.
The poem has long been left in the swamp of unforgetfulness. But when one is in the locality, the interest revives. Close range makes things real.
Conversation this this courteous people and a drive over the country soon bring many incidents to light, each with a lamp of its own. One such gratuitous drive, over concrete road, was to Edenton, on the Albemarle Sound, 30 miles southwest from Elizabeth City. Before reaching this early capital of North Carolina, we passed a spot under cypress trees on Plymouth River which a member of our party announced with one of the points at which George Fox, founder of Quakerism in England, preached while in America in 1672. The early story of the badgered Quakers will interest all lovers of history.
But in route we saw the new county high school building which represents the earnest effort North Carolina is now making for educational advancement. Just out from Elizabeth City is the Negro Normal School, which appears to enjoy an enviable equipment.
Relies on Past Centuries
At Edenton, the scene of numerous Revolutionary incidents, we found many relics of the old days. One of these was a stately brick building, 200 years old, called the “Hayes House” and built as a replica of the Hayes in England, the residence of Sir Walter Raleigh.
But with too many objects of interest to receive attention in this writing, let us note the bronze teapot that stands on an iron pedestal toward the front of a well-kept lawn—a teapot noted for its tempests. It tells of a never-to-be-forgotten Tea Party. But the old house in which this teapot belonged has been destroyed. It was the home of Mrs. Elizabeth King, where on October 25, 1774, the women of Edenton were convened for the purpose of protesting against the tax on tea, now ruthlessly imposed by England. The clear cut expression of their resolutions as well as the invincible spirit they bespoke, gained the attention of newspapers in both America and England.
Arthur Iredell of London, a brother of James Iredell of Edenton—the latter an American patriot of no little consequence—after seeing the comments of the English papers upon the American spirit of these Edenton women, wrote his Edenton brother. His evident attempt to interlard with satire led him to tell more truth than perhaps he had intended. He is here quoted:
“I see by the papers the Edenton ladies have signalized themselves by their protest against tea drinking. The name of Johnston I see among them. Are any of my sister’s relatives patriotic? I hope not for we English are afraid of the male congress. But if the ladies should attack us the most fatal consequences are to be dreaded. So dexterous in the handling of a dart, each wound they give is mortal. While we, so unhappily formed by nature, the more we strive to conquer them, the more we are conquered.
Female Artillery
“The Edenton ladies, conscious of their superiority by former experiences, are willing to crush us into atoms by their own omnipotency. The only security for our side, to prevent impending ruin, is the probability that there are few places in America which have so much female artillery as Edenton. Pray let us know all the particulars when you favor us with a letter.”
This, however, was but a part of the courageous protest of the Old North State against the John Bull taxes, and it may readily be seen as to be of a quality that deserved recognition—even at Boston.
Edenton was also the Albemarle port from which vessels were sent to Boston with donated food supplies when the later city was threatened with starvation. So it goes, and every locality has its signal incidents, though few have more Revolutionary turning points than may be brought to light in the Albemarle region of North Carolina.
With the prospect of great improvements in the efficiency of the Atlantic Coastal Service, bringing in tourists for the study of this attractive region, the Revolutionary history of North Carolina will have a renaissance, and its sounds and bays be much frequented.
Just a few miles out from Elizabeth City is the spot where, under the native forest trees, the first general assembly of North Carolina met in 1665.
Expecting a jaunt over the waters to Roanoke Island and possibly down to Cape Hatteras, your correspondent may find interesting matter to report.
From the front page of The Daily Advance, Elizabeth City, Wednesday evening, Sept. 30, 1925
newspapers.digitalnc.org/lccn/sn92074042/1925-09-30/ed-1/seq-1/
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