History of Williamsburg
By
William Willis Bodie
p. 10-20 on Witherspoon Family
“In 1734, John Witherspoon and his seven children, six of whom were married and brought children of their own, came up Black River as far as Potato Ferry; and, from this point, settled in various parts of the Township. Robert Witherspoon, grandson of John, in 1780, wrote the following account of the Witherspoon Colony, the original manuscript, of which this is a true copy, is in the possession of the descendants of the late Dr. J. R. Witherspoon, of Alabama.
‘John Witherspoon and Janet Witherspoon were born in Scotland about the year 1670. They lived in their younger years near Glasgow, at a place called Begardie, and were married in 1693. In 1695, they left Scotland and settled at Knockbracken, in the Parish of Drumbo, County of Down, Ireland, where they lived in comfortable circumstances and good credit until the year 1734. He then removed with his family to South Carolina.
We went of board the ship called ‘The Good Intent’ on the 14th of September, and were detained by headwinds fourteen days in the Lough at Belfast. On the second day after we set sail, my grandmother, Janet, died and was interred in the boisterous ocean, which was affecting sight to her offspring.
We were sorely tossed at sea with storms, which caused our ship to spring a leak; our pumps were kept incessantly at work day and night for many days together and our mariners seemed many times at their wits’ end. But it please God to bring us all safe to land, except my grandmother, about the first of December.
But to return,--my grandfather and grandmother had seven children. Their names
were as follows, viz: Janet [or Jennet], David, James, Elizabeth, Robert, Mary, and Gavin. Their daughter Janet was born in Scotland and was married to John Fleming in Ireland. They had a large family of children born in Ireland and brought seven of them to this place, Williamsburg, viz: Isabella, John, Elizabeth, James, Janet, Penelope, and William. My uncle, Jon Fleming, died in 1750, in a good old age; my aunt Janet died in 1761 in the sixty-sixth year of her age. My uncle David was born in 1697, married to Ann Pressley and brought with him to this place two children, viz:
Sarah and Janet. He died in the year 1772 in the sixty-seventh year of his age.
My aunt Elizabeth was married to William James and they brought with them to this place four children, viz: Mary, Janet, John and William. They both died in the year 1750, he forty-nine and she forty-seven years of age.
My uncle Robert was married to Mary Stuart and by her he had two children, Mary and John; his first wife, Mary, died in Ireland. He married his second wife, Hester Jane Scott, a short time before he left Ireland and brought his two children with him to this place. His wife, Hester Jane, died in 1756; aged forty years; he died in 1758; aged fifty-three years.
My aunt Mary was married to David Wilson in Ireland, and brought to this place two children, William and John. My uncle David died in 1750, aged fifty years, and she died in 1765, in the fifty-eighth year of her age.
My uncle Gavin, the youngest son of my grandparents, was born in 1712, and was unmarried when he left Ireland.
It is to be remembered that we did not all come over in one ship, nor in the same year, for my uncles, William James and David Wilson, and their families, with uncle Gavin, left Belfast in 1732, and uncle Robert followed in 1736. As I said, we landed in Charleston three weeks before Christmas in 1734. We found the inhabitants very kind. We remained in that place until after Christmas and were put on board an open boat, with tools, one year’s provisions, and one steel mill for each family. Our provisions consisted of Indian corn, rice, wheat flour, beef, pork, some rum, and salt; and, for each hand over sixteen years of age, one axe, one broad and one narrow hoe.
We were much distressed in our passage, as it was in the depth of winter and we were exposed to the inclemency of the weather by day and by night; and that which added to the grief of all persons on board were the profane and blasphemous oaths and expressions of the patron and his boatmen. They brought us up as far as Potato Ferry on Black River, about twenty miles from Georgetown, where they put us on shore.
We lay for some time in Samuel Commander’s barn, while the boat made her way up to the King’s Tree, with the goods and provisions on board, and was probably the first boat that had ever ascended the River to that place. While the women were left at Commander’s the men went up to build dirt houses, or rather potato houses, to take their families to. They also brought up a few horses and what help they could get from the few inhabitants, in order to carry their families, children, and other necessary articles up; as the woods were full of water, and the weather very cold, it made it go very hard with the women and children.
We set out in the morning the last of January, a part reached Mr. McDonald’s, others as far as Mr. Plowden’s, and Mr. James Armstrong’s, and a part to my uncle, William James’. Their little cabins were as full that night as they could hold and the next day every one made the best he could to his own place. This was on the first of February, 1735, when we came to the place called the Bluff, three miles below the King’s Tree. My mother and we children were still in expectations of coming to an agreeable place, but when we arrived and saw nothing but a wilderness, and instead of a comfortable house, no other than one of dirt, our spirits sank; and what added to our trouble was that the pilot who came with us from uncle William James’ left us as soon as he came in sight of the place. My father gave us all the comfort he could by telling us that we would soon get all the trees cut down and in a short time there would be plenty of inhabitants and that we would be able to see from house to house.
While we were here, the fire went out that we brought from Boggy Swamp. My father had heard that up the river swamp was the King’s Tree. Although there was no path nor did he know the distance, he followed up the meanderings of the swamp until he came to the branch and by that means he found Roger Gordon’s place. We watched him as far as the trees would let us see and returned to our dolorous hut, expecting never to see him or any human being more. But after some time, he returned with fire and we were somewhat comforted, but evening coming on the wolves began to howl on all sides. We then feared being devoured by wild beasts, as we had neither gun nor dog, nor even a door to our house, howbeit we set to and gathered fuel and made a good fire and so we passed the first night.
The next morning being clear and moderate, we began to stir about, and about midday there arose a cloud at Southwest, attended with high wind, lightning, and thunder. The rain quickly penetrated through the poles of the hut and brought down the sand with which it was covered and which seemed for a while to cover us alive. The lightening and claps were very awful and lasted for a good space of time. I do not remember to have seen a much severer gust than that was. I believe we all sincerely wished to be again at Belfast. But the fright was soon over and the evening cleared up comfortable and warm.
The boat that brought up the good arrived safe at King’s Tree. People were much oppressed in bringing away the articles, for as there were no houses near, they were obliged to toil hard and carry them on their backs, consisting of clothing, beds, chests, provisions, tools, pots, bowls; and, as at that time there were but few roads or paths, ever family had to travel the best way it could, which was near double distance to some, for they had to follow swamps and braches as their guides at first and after some time, some men got such a knowledge of the woods as to be able to blaze paths, so that the people soon found out to follow blazes from place to place.
As the winter season was far advanced, the time to prepare land for planting was very short, yet the people were generally healthy and strong. All that could do anything wrought diligently and continued clearing and planting as long as the season would admit. So they made provisions for that year. As they had but few beasts to feed, a little served them; and as the range was good, there was no need to feeding creatures for several years.
I remember that the first thing my father brought from the boat was his gun, which was one of Queen Anne’s muskets. He had her loaded with swan shot, and one morning while we were at breakfast there was a traveling ‘possum passing by the door, my mother screamed out, “There is a great bear!” Mother and we children hid ourselves behind some barrels and a chest at the far end of the hut, while father got his gun and steadied her past the fork that held up the other end of our house and shot him about the hinder pars, which caused him to grin in a frightful manner. Father was in haste to give him another bout, but the shot, being mislaid in the hurry, could not be found, and we were pinned up for some time. Father at last ventured out and killed him with a pole. Another circumstance which gave us much alarm was the Indians when they came the hunt in the Spring. They came in great numbers like the Egyptian locusts, but were not hurtful.
We had a great deal of trouble and hardships in our first settling, but the few inhabitants were favored with health and strength. We were also much oppressed with fear on divers other accounts, especially of being massacred by the Indians, or bit by snakes, or torn by wild beasts, or of being lost and perishing in the woods, of whom there were three persons who were never found.
My uncle Robert, with his second wife and two children, Mary and John, arrived here near the last of August, 1736. He came on the fine ship called the ‘New-built’, which was the ship of great burthen and brought a great many passengers, who chiefly came and settled here and had to travel by land from Georgetown, and instead of being furnished with provisions, etc., as we were, they had money given them by the public. When they arrived, our second crop had been planted and was coming forward, but the season being warm and they much fatigues, many were taken sick wit ague and fever, some died and some became dropsical and also died.
About this time, August or September, 1736, the people began to form into a religious society, built a church and sent to Ireland for a minister. One came whose name was Robert Herron, who staid only three years and returned to Ireland. The first call was made out for Reverend John Willison of Scotland, author of the ‘Mother’s Catechism’, ‘A Practical Treatise on the Lord’s Supper’, and of the ‘Discourses on the Atonement.’
The following anecdote is handed down by tradition of Mr. Gavin Witherspoon; meeting a neighbor one day, this conversation is reported to have taken place. Witherspoon—‘Wull, we must have a minister.’ ‘Wull, Mister Witherspoon, wha wull ye git to be your minister?’ ‘Wull, wha but Mister Willison o’ Dundee?’ ‘But the minister must have a muckle sight o’ money for his living,’ ‘And that we must gie him,’ say Mr. Witherspoon. ‘An’ how much, Mr. Witherspoon, wull ye gie?’ ‘Ten pounds’, was the ready reply. ‘But, Mr. Witherspoon, whar’ll ye git the ten pounds?’ ‘Why if wus comes to wus, I ien can sell my cow,’ says he. Mr. Willison, of Dundee, was accordingly sent for to preach the Gospel in the wilds of America.
In the fall of the year 1737, my grandfather, John Witherspoon, took a disease called Rose-in-the-leg, which occasioned a fever from which he died. He was the first person buried at the Williamsburg Meeting House, which he had assisted to erect. About the same time, 1737, my father had a daughter, Elizabeth that died, aged three years, born at the place called the Bluff, where we lived.
My grandfather was a man of middling or common stature, of a fine, healthy constitution, of fair complexion, and somewhat bow-legged. He was well acquainted with the Scriptures, had volubility in prayer, and was a zealous adherent to the principles of what was called in his day the Reformed Protestant Church of Scotland. He had also a great aversion to Episcopacy, and whoever will impartially read the history of the times of his younger years in Scotland will see that his prejudices were not without cause. It was his lot to live in a time of great distress to the persecuted Church, during the reign of James the Seventh of Scotland and Second of England. Being one who followed field-meetings, e and some others of his kindred were much harassed by the Papists. Yet, notwithstanding, if his younger years were attended with some trouble, he still enjoyed great peace and tranquility in his after life and had the comfort and happiness of living to see his seven children all creditably married and settled for themselves; and, except the death of my grandmother, his beloved wife, he never knew what it was to part by dealt with one of his own immediate family, a blessing which few persons have granted to them, especially at his advanced age.
My father’s name was James, the third child and second son of my grandparents. He was born at the beginning of the present century, lived with his parents at Drumbo, County of Down, until he was twenty-five years old, when he married my mother, whose name was Elizabeth McQuoid, in the twentieth year of her age.
My grandfather, Robert McQuoid, married Sarah Campbell. They both died in Ireland, he in 1728, aged eighty-six, and she was aged about eighty. My father and mother settled in the Parish of Graba, near the Canningburn Mills, where they lived about nine years and sold their possessions to embark for America. My father brought the family to my grandparents at Knockbracken about the 1st of May, 1734, and left us there until the 1st of September. In the meantime, he wrought at the reed-making business. He brought four children on board of the ship, viz: David, Robert, John, and Sarah. Sarah died in Charleston shortly after their arrival, and was the first person buried in the Scotch Meeting House Yard.
In May, 1743, the Reverend Mr. John Ray arrived here from Scotland. He came upon a call which his congregation had sometime before sent to the Reverend Mr. John Willison, of Dundee. Mr. Ray continued a faithful, zealous, and laborious worker in the congregation until 1761. He being abroad on a visit up Black River was taken sick with the pleurisy and died. The remains of this eminently pious man was brought down from Salem, where he died, and buried at the church where he had for eighteen years successfully labored, being about forty-six years of age. ‘Blessed are the dead tat die in the Lord from henceforth: Yea, saith the sprint, that they may rest from their labors, and their works do follow them.’
I was born in Ireland on the 20th day of August, 1728, was my father’s second son; in my youth e taught me to weave, as he also taught my elder brother, David, to make reeds. Te family lived together at the Bluff until March, 1749. My father then moved to Thorntree, a place situated between the Lower Bridge on Black River and Murray’s Ferry on the Santee. I there went out and wrought at the weaving business with my uncle, Gavin Witherspoon, who lived at a place called Megart’s [McGirts] Swamp, until the September following. I went next to overseeing for a Mr. Fleming, near Black River Church, twenty-five miles below King’s Tree, where I remained until January, 1752, and then returned to my father’s.
The reason of my return was that it had pleased God—in the last awful epidemic that prevailed in Williamsburg in the year 1749 and 1750, usually called the ‘Great Mortality,’ and which had carried off near eighty persons, many of them the principal people or heads of families—to remove by death my elder brother, David, and my sister, Jane, both in the year 1750. My father being then in a very feeble and infirm state of health and unable to attend to his own business, I left my own to take care of his. I remained with my parents until 1758, when, on the 2nd of March, I married Elizabeth Heathly, a young lady then in the eighteenth year of her age, and settled for myself four miles below King’s Tree and near the River.
I afterwards removed and settled one mile higher up the River nearer King’s Tree, in 1761, and immediately on the public road leading from that place to the Lower Bridge on Black River. Here I had a more comfortable and healthy residence, and here also, I expect to spend the remainder of my days.
Our first son, James, was born on the 20th of March, 1759; our second son, Thomas, was born on the 22nd of March, 1761, and died on the 8th of September, 1765, aged four years and six months; our first daughter, Ann, was born January 4, 1763; our third son, John, was born January 20, 1765, and died on the 24th of July, 1767, aged two years and six months; our fourth son, Robert, was born January 29, 1767; our second daughter, Elizabeth, was born July 25, 1771; our fifth son, John, was born March 17, 1774; our sixth son, Thomas was born July 23, 1776.
My honored mother departed this life on the 22nd day of January, 1777, in the seventy-second year of her age, and was the last surviving branch of the old stock of our family. As I have had an intimate personal knowledge of their lives and deaths, I bear tem testimony that they were servers of God, were well acquainted with the Scriptures, were much engaged in prayer, were strict observers of the Sabbath, in a word, they were a stock of people that studied outward piety as well as inward purity of life.
Indeed God blessed this settlement at first with a number of eminently pious and devoted men, out of whom I chose to set down some of their names, viz: William Wilson, David Allen, William Hamilton, John Porter, William James, David Wilson, John James, James McCleland, Robert Wilson, Robert Paisley, James Bradley, John Turner, William Frierson, to whom I add my own father and my three uncles, David, Robert, and Gavin. These were men of great piety in their day; indeed they were men of renown. May the glorious King and Head of the Church for His own glory still maintain and keep up men of piety and holiness as a blessing to this place and congregation to the latest posterity is the heart request of the unworthy scribe.’”