Descendant Don Hayworth writes the following:
The Haworths and their descendants appear in three of the ten chapters in Part I of this book. James Haworth is featured in Chapter V and his father George Haworth, the Immigrant, is also briefly profiled. Jemima (Haworth) Wright, daughter of James Haworth, and her children are featured in Chapter VI. A grandson of Jemima (Haworth) Wright, Dr. Isaac Summer Wright (son of Joshua Wright), is featured in Chapter VIII.
The complete book was recently digitized by Google and is now available on-line in PDF format and can be downloaded free. Just go to Google Books and enter the search terms "George Haworth" and "Fair America".
Chapter V requires some clarifications and corrections based on what is known about James Haworth and his family. While there are no dates given for the events described in Chapter V, it is fairly easy to establish all of the dates from historical records, except for the dates of James' two-year hunting trip.
James Haworth, the Hunter - It has proven impossible to establish with certainty the dates that James Haworth, might have been away on a two-year hunting trip to the west as described in Chapter V. It seems almost certain, however, that it was James Haworth, the son of George, who made this hunting trip. It is also fairly certain that this hunting trip was undertaken after James moved to Virginia in 1739. He would have been too young to undertake such a trip earlier.
My speculation is that James Haworth joined Squire Boone and his family, after their brief stop in Virginia in 1750, and accompanied them to NC to begin his two-year adventure. There is evidence that indicates James Haworth was not in Virginia during this time period. Marilyn Winton wrote in the minutes of the 1999 Haworth reunion that James was fined in a 1755 court martial hearing, five shillings or 150 pounds of tobacco for missing three musters in the company of Captain Jeremiah Stewart . There is also an otherwise unexplained age gap in the births of James Haworth's children during this time period.
After his two-year hunting trip was over, James no doubt returned to his home in Virginia, not to Pennsylvania, to tell the tales of his adventures, . The author of "Fair America" must have been aware of the Pennsylvania connection of James to George, the Immigrant, but did not check the records to find that George had been dead for many years and James had been living in Virginia for many years at the time.
Squire Boone's Move to VA and NC - Several history accounts show that Squire Boone (Daniel Boone's father) moved his family from Pennsylvania to NC in 1750, when Daniel was only 16 years old, stopping with his sister in Virginia for only a few months before continuing to NC (one reference to this move is in "The Star of the Empire" written by Archibald Henderson and published in 1919). Two of the brothers of James Haworth (Stephanus and Absalom) moved to Virginia in 1738 and James joined them in 1739 (Reference "Hopewell Friends History", 1734-1934, Frederick Co., VA). Therefore, James did not make the move to Virginia with Squire Boone and his family in 1750 as described in Chapter V, but quite likely accompanied them from VA to NC.
James Haworth Family Move to NC and SC - James Haworth died in 1757 and his wife remarried in 1759. Sarah, the widow, was disowned by the Hopewell meeting for this marriage, but was later reinstated. Sarah Wood Haworth Ruble them removed with all of her family, except son Richard, to the Bush River Meeting in SC in 1768 (Reference "Hopewell Friends History", 1734-1934, Frederick Co., VA). Sarah died there in 1769 and her children seem to have moved to NC shortly thereafter, although I have not located a date for this move.
Failed Boone Expedition to Kentucky - There are a number of historical accounts of the failed expedition to Kentucky when Daniel Boone's son was killed that establish the year as 1773. The following account is taken from the "History of Kentucky" written by Humphrey Marshall and published 1824 in Frankfort, Kentucky:
"About the month of September, 1773, Daniel Boone sold his farm on the Yadkin, bade farewell to his less adventurous neighbours, and commenced his removal to Kentucky, with his own, and five other families. In Powell's valley he was joined by forty men, willing to risk themselves .under his guidance. The party were proceeding in fine spirit, when on the tenth of October, the rear of the company was, attacked by a strong ambuscade of Indians, who killed six of the men; and among them, the eldest son of Boone.
The Indians were repulsed, and fled; but in the mean time, the cattle belonging to the sojourners were dispersed; the relatives of the deceased greatly affected ; and the survivors generally, so disheartened by present feelings, and future prospects, that it was thought best to retreat to the settlement on Clinch river; distant about forty miles: which was done, in good order, without further molestation."
I have located no records that provide the names of the five families that accompanied Boone on this expedition, but the author of "Fair America" must have located records that indicated James and George Haworth were among the party. However, the author erred in concluding that these two were the sons of George Haworth, the Immigrant. James Haworth, the son of George the Immigrant died about 1757 in Virginia and his wife remarried in 1759 (Reference "Hopewell Friends History", 1734-1934, Frederick Co., VA). Therefore, James the son of George had been dead for about 16 years when the Boone expedition set out for Kentucky.
Haworth Family Members on Boone's 1773 Expedition - It seems most likely that the James and George Haworth that were along on the 1773 Boone expedition when young James Boone was killed were the sons of James Haworth and Sarah Wood. They were living near Boone at the time and had already proven themselves to be of adventurous spirit. There are many tales handed down in the Haworth family about the Haworth's accompanying Daniel Boone on this, his second expedition to Kentucky. One such account is on page 546 of the "History of Clinton County, Ohio" published in 1882 where it is stated that George and James Haworth, the sons of the elder James Haworth accompanied Boone on the 1773 expedition. Another account stating the same is in a paper about Mahlon Haworth (grandson of the elder James Haworth and son of James son, George) read by Samuel Haworth of Thornton, Indiana, at the 1899 Haworth reunion. The account in "Fair America" serves to further substantiate these tales handed down in the Haworth family.
Chapter V makes a point of noting that James's young daughter Jemima was on this expedition. She may have been, since two of her brothers were apparently among the party. However, if she was on the expedition it was as a married woman with children. Jemima was married in 1768, five years before this expedition set out. Despite the age discrepancy and the fact that both her mother and father were deceased, I would not be surprised to find that Jemima (Haworth) Wright along with her husband and children were among the five families accompanying Boone. This may well be one reason she was so determined to make the move west later (as described in Chapter VI) as a widow with a number of children. Don Hayworth
Editor's Notes: Don's family line is as follows:
Donald Ray Hayworth
Byrl Harvel Hayworth
Allen Jackson Hayworth
John Absalom Hayworth
George Haworth, the Immigrant
Ron Haworth, Editor
In the first faint dawn of a summer morning a cautious line of smoke was rising above the trees in the country of the Upper Yadkin River, in western North Carolina.
The fire, quickly kindled, was, in fear of Indians, quickly put out - just as the day was breaking. The air was musical with sweet, sleepy bird notes and the tinkling and splashing of as yet invisible brooks and waterfalls. The grassy slopes, showing first a dark green, became quickly bright and yet brighter, while here and there in the forests - seeming a moment before merely a massing of foliage - tall trees suddenly stood forth in a keen and beautiful individuality; but the topmost boughs of all alike, touched to motion by the passing Spirit of the Morning, bent and swayed and tossed in a sea of golden-green light. Above in the violet sky transparent cloudlets glowed with gold and rose.
In the brighter light the tuneful waters appeared - turning by a magic alchemy from lead to silver and from silver to dazzling gold.
From the trees a thousand bird-throats poured forth jubilant songs which, falling in silvery notes, seemed to fill with sparkles the freshness of the fragrant air.
So broke the day over a hunter's camp in the lovely Yadkin country - a land of forests, of fertile upland prairies and thick canebrake - of buffalo and deer and elk and bear - a hunter's paradise, truly!
And so thought the hunter, whose camp-fire was lately burning. Yet, having barely entered it, he was about to leave this paradise and to retrace his steps to his home in Pennsylvania - five hundred miles away. A really remarkable action, which we may understand later.
The sunlight of this same morning filtering through the leaves of far off forests falls upon other lonely camps, for English trappers and traders, ever pursuing the ever receding wild animals, have made their way up the beautiful valleys of Virginia, and beyond them - to the Monongahela and the Great Kanawha; up the Juniata and across the mountains to the Allegheny River; they have floated down the Ohio, and have even ascended the Muskingum and the Scioto. In their camps are raised platforms of saplings, holding the object of their trips, and its realization - namely, a pile of skins.
Most lucky if this pile be of beaver; but lucky in any case, for all skins sell well at the far-away "Coast."
A few hunters and traders - and a few piles of skins - in the boundless western woods! What can it matter?
But it does matter - immensely - as we shall see, for it is not simply because they have penetrated so far into the unknown wilderness that we pay a tribute of recognition to these daring pioneers of the canoe-path and the Indian trail.
It is rather because these men build forts to protect their remote trading posts, and because, returning from their trips, they tell marvelous tales of new and fertile countries - thereby influencing their relatives and friends to rise up - almost to a man - and journey to the reported and tempting lands of plenty.
And we remember that beside these western waters were planted long ago the lilies of France! Moreover, it is decreed that where flourish the lilies, must be hunting grounds, not homes.
So from the lonely camp-fires in the western woods came many things - vastly important to our country.
One of the first happenings was at least picturesque.
The French policy had been always (save in Champlain's irreparable blunder of harsh treatment to the Iroquois) to make allies of the Indians.
Accordingly, when English traders essayed to build a fort in the French domain, a friendly Indian runner speedily made known the fact to the authorities at Quebec, and the intruders were then promptly ordered off. Such orders were sometimes obeyed - sometimes not.
But, whether obeyed or not, the French saw the necessity for reiteration of their claim to the Ohio - "La Belle Riviere" they called it - won for them, as they maintained, by the indomitable La Salle.
The great river was their pride and delight, and its possession the one hope of their fur-trade.
Plainly the old claim was not sufficient - and a new one was made accordingly. An embassy of great dignity was dispatched in canoes down the Allegheny and into the Ohio.
Celoron, the leader, had with him six plates of lead whereon were engraved - what but - the lilies of France? With much solemnity and impressiveness, these plates were buried at the mouths of important tributaries to the Ohio, while Celoron shouted in a very loud voice "Long live the King." Claim was thus laid to all the country drained by the great river. More practical was the building of forts at Presqueisle (now Erie), Duquesne (Pittsburgh), and at several points between them. These finished, the French chain of military outposts guarding the Ohio, the Mississippi, the Lakes and the St. Lawrence, was complete.
But, in the meantime, the English hunters were returning from their western trips, and telling their tempting tales. Among them was James Haworth, whose camp we saw on the Yadkin. We find him on a farm in Pennsylvania - in that lovely part of the colony now known as Bucks County. He has been away two years and naturally, he and his stories are much sought after. The big kitchen of the farmhouse barely holds the relatives and neighbors (the neighbors, however, are nearly all relatives) whose names are in many instances as familiar to us now as to him then.
James Haworth is a Quaker - son of a certain George Haworth who "came over with William Penn" upon his second visit to Pennsylvania in 1699. Soon after his arrival, friend George betook himself to the rich and beautiful country north of Philadelphia, where many Quakers - co- voyagers with Penn on his first visit - had settled and prospered. Here he bought a tract of land and went energetically to work in "clearing" it and building a log cabin.
Being a good Quaker, friend George went on first-day to the Friends' meeting, and saw there a brown-eyed young Quakeress - by name Mary Scarboro.
It was probably through some mistake that nature had bestowed upon the demure little maiden glints of gold in her hair - which the meek white cap could not quite conceal - sparkles of mischief in her brown eyes, and merry dimples in her cheeks.
Be that as it may, the glints and sparkles and dimples laid low, at their very first attack, the heart of the sober young Quaker, and very soon little friend Mary, being eloquently persuaded thereto by friend George, exchanged her name for Haworth and her abode for the just finished log house in the new clearing.
But all this occurred years ago, and where the forest was then, are fields of corn and wheat and clover; orchards and pastures, and a merry and exceedingly busy little mill, to which comes all the grist of the neighborhood. Where stood the log cabin, is the pleasant and substantial farm house, in which the returned hunter, having greeted his friends, is now beginning his story.
He spent the first year, he says, among the headwaters of various southern tributaries to the Ohio, making his winter camp on the bank of the far-distant Great Kanawha. In the Spring he turned eastward again, crossed the mountains at one of the river-gaps, and, traveling up the river valleys of Virginia, at length reached North Carolina and the forks of the Yadkin.
This bare outline was in his telling, graphically filled in and brilliantly colored. There were vivid descriptions of the Yadkin - of the beautiful fertile country, and of the abundance of fish, and fowl and game - three or four men, he said, could kill "from ten to twenty" buffalo in a single day!
He had had thrilling adventures with "bars" and "painters," and many hair-breadth escapes from tomahawk, "sculping"- knife - or worse; for he had many times encountered Indians.
To his boy listeners, these tales were as sparks to tinder and to the fires of imagination kindled by them was due the life work of many a future and now well-known pioneer.
The hunter's reports of new and fertile lands to be had almost for the asking were of intense interest to all who heard them, for the farms bought from the Indians, and considered at that time ample for all needs, are not large enough to satisfy the numerous young Haworths, Scarbros, Boones and Lincolns, the Goods and Williamsons - not to name other families - the children and grandchildren of the original settlers.
Until lately Pennsylvanians, finding themselves thus "crowded," had emigrated to the westward - even beyond the mountains, but unhappily the commonwealth was not now the peaceful and care-free place it once was, for recently in England a violent turn of the wheels of political fortune had brought religious persecution on the Scotch-Irish, who when in power, had themselves been persecutors of others. As has been said, many thousands left Scotland and Ireland to find refuge in the colonies where was promised religious liberty - notably in North Carolina, New Jersey and Pennsylvania.
These immigrants had their good points and proved themselves later to be fine pioneers, courageous, resolute and energetic; doubtless the new country opening up at this time had need for all their strong qualities - could indeed ill spare any of them; but not even the fierce fires of their own persecution had taught them to be just or merciful, and terrible was the havoc wrought by the fighting Scotch-Irish in Penn's commonwealth of the Golden Rule.
They did not agree with the founder's conception of fair treatment for the original occupants of the land, and presently there were consternation and dismay in the homes of the settlers, for, for the first time in the history of the colony, the Indians were digging up the tomahawk and sending out the war-belt, far and wide.
Terror reigned now in the land, and especially on its western frontier; crops were destroyed, whole families were murdered, and homesteads burned.
Terrified children learned the blood- freezing sound of the war-whoop, and many of them were carried captive by Indians - once kindly friends, turned now by injustice and inhumanity to deadly foes.
The tribesmen living on the farther side of the mountains were implacable and powerful, and, generally, were allies of the French.
Western advance was therefore at this time impossible, and Friend Haworth's stories of those rich and fertile lands easily reached through the river valleys of the south, and especially his descriptions of the broad meadows and abundant food supplies to be found in the country of the Yadkin, made a great stir in all the community, and many households were soon preparing to leave their homes and to set out on the long journey to North Carolina. The Boones - almost all of them - were going, the Lincolns too, and several of the Haworths, the Finleys and the Morgans.
The cattle and horses and the long train of canvas-covered wagons were in readiness in a marvelously short time, and the caravan is now about to start.
The accounts say, usually, that "John Finley," or "George Haworth," or "Squire Boone," or "Abraham Lincoln" decided to go to the new lands. We wonder, wistfully, what Mrs. John Finley or Mrs. George Haworth, or Mrs. Squire Boone thought about it! Surely they, so near Philadelphia, need not fear Indians!
And it must have been hard to leave the pleasant homes, the well-kept farms, the attractive dairies cooled by running water, sparkling in its clearness, the peaceful meeting houses, the schools for their children - to leave all this for the long, long and perilous journey, and the hard, wild life of the wilderness, when at length they shall have reached that journey's end!
We think of these women as taking many a longing, lingering look at all the dear and familiar sights, as the sun goes down the day before they are to leave them. But possibly we waste our sympathy - these Bucks county people are mostly Anglo-Saxons - and Anglo-Saxons will do almost anything to get more land!
As for the children - at this point at least all is pleasure and excitement, and for the bigger boys this is the great time of their lives. They look not behind, but forward - to the glowing days of adventure sure to come.
But pleasurable or painful, the next day dawns and with the dawn the long procession moves.
They go not through "trackless" forests, but by paths marked out for them long ages ago when rivers first cut their way through to the sea, and thirsty animals unerringly found the shortest way to their clear waters.
Where the buffalo - perchance the mastodon! - led the way, the Indians followed, and after countless years the white man now catches the trail.
The path they choose leads directly to the banks of the Potomac. This river they cross at the ford known as Wadkin's Ferry. Here opens before them the lovely valley of the Shenandoah. They journey slowly on up the trail, in the early afternoon; yet already the western mountains throw long shadows over the open spaces, and the forests look dark and mysterious, suggesting many things to those of the party who are gifted with vivid imaginations, and indeed, to those who are not!
So it is perhaps to the comfort of all when, coming to a spring of water, cool and clear, the leader decides to make camp; the wagons are drawn around in a circle, the animals are driven inside of it, and a cheerful fire and hearty supper put out of mind the mysterious, flitting shadows and the strange and stealthy sounds in that dark and lonely forest.
No Indians appeared that night, but later there were many alarms and one attack, in which several of the party were wounded but happily no one was killed.
As they continued their journey the attractions of the country became so great that many families decided to remain in Virginia, at least for a time. Among them two of the Haworths - one being James, the hunter - and Squire Boone's family
Eventually, however, the whole party with one or two exceptions found their way to the Yadkin. So resulted the story of one hunting trip. Others had like effect, and soon there were thousands of Pennsylvanians on their way to the valleys of Virginia and North Carolina. Some even went to what later became Tennessee.
In the sons and daughters of these settlers were combined the good qualities of an Anglo-Saxon, Welsh, Scotch and Irish ancestry, and there in the backwoods of our country these boys and girls, growing up to a strong and hardy manhood and womanhood, became themselves the first Americans, destined to be the pioneers in the great western expansion of American.
About this time a young planter of Virginia - by name George Washington - began to take a vigorous interest in the western country, and found among the hunters of the Yadkin the man he needed to explore the fine region on the southern bank of the Ohio River. Favorable reports of this well-watered land led to the formation of the Ohio Company, for the purpose of encouraging settlement, and plans were made for transporting thither two hundred families.
These preparations, although made in secret, in some way became known to the French.
This action, they considered, was too much to endure, and in consequence of it there now broke over the land that long- threatened French and Indian war to settle once for all the question which should hold sovereignty over the valley of the Ohio - the banner of England or the lilies of France.
To answer the question England sent over soldiers under command of General Braddock.
One hundred backwoodsmen from the Yadkin settlement volunteered to help the general fight the Indians. Though urged by his young officer, George Washington, to make use of these men as scouts, Braddock refused, and we know too well the terrible disaster that followed.
Among the Yadkin volunteers there was a wagoner, young Daniel, son of Squire Boone. In charge of another wagon was the hunter, John Finley, who told Boone ravishing tales of a country west of the mountains of Virginia, most beautiful and abounding in game, which he had found when paddling down the Ohio; but - he told Boone - he was certain it might be entered through a buffalo path leading over the mountains at Cumberland Gap. It would seem, from after events, that there and then a deep vow was registered by Daniel Boone. At any rate, we shall presently hear more of him and of the Cumberland Gap as well.
But in the meantime the war goes on and great things happen. For, finally, when the war ends, the English have won the possession of all the country east of the Mississippi River, from Florida to the Lakes.
So flies the banner of England - so fade the lilies of France!
There is much eager talk now of western advance; there are also several obstacles in its way.
One of them
would seem likely to stop it altogether, for it is nothing less than a royal
proclamation that no settlements are to be made "west of the headwaters of the
east and southeast into the Atlantic"! for, explains England virtuously, "between the mountains and the Mississippi lie the hunting-grounds of the Indians" (and future annuities from the fur trade).
Secondly, though Pontiac's "rebellion" had been crushed, the Indians, bitterly hostile, are everywhere to be reckoned with.
Third, the mighty mountains - those impassable, unscalable ramparts of the West - seem themselves to say "Thus far, and no farther."
But North Carolina and Virginia make England's restrictions meaningless by so-called treaties with the Indians - with the Cherokees, powerful in the South; and with the Six Nations of New York, who hold a shadowy scepter over all tribesmen from the Ohio to the Tennessee.
The Cherokees are represented by twelve hundred warriors brought in from the woods by Daniel Boone. Three thousand warriors of the Six Nations gather at Fort Stanwix, now Rome, N. Y. They are, without doubt, picturesque assemblages, and at first the piled-up presents of cloth and fire-arms and finery - which are to compensate for the relinquished authority - seem ample; but when divided among three thousand, or even among twelve hundred, each proud warrior is left with a mortifyingly small share!
Still, the deed is done, and having thus paid the Indians "quit rent" for their lands, the North Carolinians and the Virginians leave England with absolutely nothing to say.
The backwoodsmen, however, give little heed to the proclamation; they go forth intrepidly to meet their Indian foes - not less, but rather more ferocious than before; and after long and patient search, they scale the mountain rampart - as the buffalo had before them - at the depression of the Cumberland Gap, follow a trail for many terrible miles through the wilderness, and reach at length the Kentucky River and that wondrously fair country known to us now as the lovely land of the Blue Grass.
The hunters and explorers - Walker, who named the Cumberland Gap - Finley, the one-time wagoner, the "Long Hunters," and, above all, DANIEL BOONE, had marvelous things to tell of splendid meadows and unheard of abundance of game. Their stories ran like wildfire along the border and were repeated in the cabin of every backwoodsman. There were, indeed, the terrible mountains to be first crossed, and on the other side was the dark and dismal and heart-breaking wilderness, and there was danger of Indian attack all along the way.
Yes! but at the end of it all there was, as Boone said, "paradise," and he offered to conduct to its fields Elysian, as many settlers as were willing to go.
All summer long the Promised Land took on fairer and fairer tints as Boone talked about it to his neighbors - old friends with whom he had traveled up the Shenandoah Valley long ago, for the passing years had brought them all together again on the Yadkin. In September a party is ready to start, and among them are Boone's own family and the families of James and George Haworth.
The young men and maidens and the boys and girls of these families are true children of the frontier, brave and strong and clear-headed. Two of them are very fine-looking, genial, full of fun and evidently very popular with all the rest. The handsome girl is James Haworth's oldest daughter, Jemima; the other is Boone's youngest and dearly loved son. James Boone is a splendidly built young fellow, sixteen years old, and a woodsman clear through; as well he may be, for since he was a very small boy he has accompanied his father on all his hunting trips. He is full of life and hope, and keeps everyone in good humor during the vexatious delays of the preparations.
They start at length - a long drawn out procession along the narrow trail - and are still in Powell's Valley, east of the mountains, when they are attacked by Indians.
There is a terrible time, and seven of the little party are killed, and - one of them is James Boone.
So tragically ends the first attempt to reach the Promised Land; for though the brave Boone entreated them to go on, the disheartened families returned to their homes on the Yadkin.
But Boone was
not disheartened; and two years later he led over the Cumberland Gap and down
through the wilderness the vanguard of that great army of settlers who, climbing
to the Gap and pressing over the dark forest trail, made famous forever- more
"Boone's Trace" - since known as the Wilderness Road.
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