The Daily Times - News
CENTENNIAL EDITION CENTENNIAL EDITION
BURLINGTON, N. C, MAY, 1949
Snow Cane Creek Meeting Dates Back To 1751 By WALTER WHITAKER
Nestled on the banks of Cane Creek at the foot of the Cane Creek mountains, the little village of Snow Camp today guards many of the historical secrets of Alamance County. In the springtime, when the brisk March winds sweep across its soft, rolling hillsides and the countryside blossoms with dogwood and redbud Snow Camp resembles many another picturesque rural hamlet yet in its heart sleep many legends of years gone of the great Historical moments which the village has known.
West of the crossroads settlement stands the Cane Creek Meeting House, founded in 1751 by our first Quaker settlers, and, nearby, the foundations of Simon Dixon's grist mill, where this patriarch of Snow Camp settled two centuries ago. The mill is gone now, but the memory of those events which occurred there lives on in the minds of the village "old timers."
It is at Simon Dixon's mill that the story of Snow Camp properly begins on a winter afternoon in the year 1781.
"Are they really coming this Way. father?"
"Yes, Henry."
"But why are you going away?"
"It's best, lad. The Tories might harm me if they found me here."
"When will you come back."
"In a few days ... in a few days when the soldiers have all gone."
"But who will run the mill while you are away?"
"
I don't know, lad. Maybe the Tories." "
"Why would they harm you?
"Run along now, lad. Run downstairs and tell Elizabeth to fetch the food she has ready for me."
Henry bounded down the steps .two at a time and headed in the general direction of the big kitchen to find Mrs. Dixon. Upstairs Simon finished packing his extra clothing in his saddle bags and put on his great coat. It was snowing outside, fine white flakes which had long ago spread their blanket over the countryside. A fierce winter wind whistled shrilly around the corners of the house.
"Simon! Simon!" That was Elizabeth calling to him from the foot of the stairs. You had better hurry'"
"Hurry, husband"
"I should not go. I should stay here. There is no telling what the Tories might do."
"No. Simon, you must go," said Elizabeth. "If the British found you here they would kill you. The children and I will go to neighbor Stuart's house. We'll be safe there. The redcoats will not harm us Friends."
Crossing to the mantelpiece about the great hearth. Simon took his musket from its hook and the powder horn which hung beside it. He might meet some of the redcoats along the road to Hawfields.
"Go now, go quickly!" said his Wife.
Simon put his arms around her and looked into her face.
"Thou art indeed a brave woman, wife Elizabeth. I am a coward. I flee when thou wouldst remain.
"This is as it must be." said Elizabeth.
"In Hawfields with Friend Mcbane you shall be safe. But the Tories know you served the Regulators, and they will have no mercy if they find you here.
"Farewell. dear Elizabeth. Go to neighbor Stuart's home and remain there until they have gone. I shall return as soon as possible."
"And I shall pray that the Lord will send them soon away," said Elizabeth
She turned away so that Simon would not see her tears, and when the door had closed softly behind him. she watched him from the window and wept quietly. She knew that he would be in less danger at Hawfields settlement and she was glad that he had finally given in to her persuasion. Yet she was saddened by his going.
Late on the evening before, one of the British soldiers had stopped at the home of Alexander Stuart and had told them some ominous news. Lord Cornwallis' Army had been encased in a terrible battle at Guilford Court House and many of them had been wounded. Even now more than a thousand of them were marching toward the village on Cane Creek.
When the redcoat had departed. Alexander Simon rode immediately to the home of Miller Simon Dixon. He gasped out the news and advised Miller Dixon to flee: until the British had passed. It was neatly dawn when Simon decided to go to Hawfields though he was a Quaker, he had circulated pamphlets for the Regulators during the Battle of Alamance and he was known for his patriotic sympathies.
The sun rose on the great stone home above the Dixon mill and Simon looked back for a moment before he mounted his horse and rode toward safety. He had built the house with his own hands, gathering the stones along the banks of the creek and cutting the timber for the floor and the doors from the trees in the forest. He had pegged the walls and built the great chimney at one end, and with rude tools had shaped the furniture which had been needed for the home and the mill.
There had been few grist mills in this country when Simon came, He and his neighbors had built this one on Cane Creek in 1753, and the mill stone was the one which Simon himself had brought in his wagon, all the way from his former home Pennsylvania.
As his horse jogged slowly along the rode to Hawfields, Miller Dixon remembered the country as he had first seen it. The trees were heavily laden with snow now, but he remembered them as they were in the spring of 1751 thirty years ago.
Simon's father. Thomas Dixon. had migrated from the City of Liverpool in England to the Quaker colony of Pennsylvania about year 1700. He settled in Lancaster County, a short distance from the young city of Philadelphia. Shortly afterwards, he married, and his wife. Hannah, bore for him three children, Simon, Ruth and Rebecca. In the epidemic of smallpox which swept through the northern colonies in the early years, Thomas Dixon became ill and soon died.
Soon after his father's death in 1749, young Simon Dixon left Pennsylvania and headed South, in search of a better climate and country. He crossed the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia, the Roanoke and Haw Rivers, and arrived at the north bank of Cane Creek in early Spring He decided to settle at this spot and began build a log cabin, clear land and plant a crop of corn.
The outlook and the surroundings were so different from his former home, however, that he soon became discouraged. His nearest neighbor a man by the name of Nelson, lived six miles away on the Rocky River.
Simon abandoned his lonely. frontier home and returned Pennsylvania where he remained until 1751. But the song of the wilderness was still in his heart .
In the Spring of 1751 he persuaded a small group of Friends many of his neighbors to return with him to the Carolina country. With Simon came has widowed mother his two sisters and wife Elizabeth, and a handful of other families.
These sturdy pioneer families. were soon at home in the wilderness. They cleared farm land, raised their cabins and built mills along the creek. To their west settled a colony of Lutherans and Reformed Germans, and north of them, a number of Presbyterian families. Rapidly the land became settled, although there was still enough room, it was said, "for a man to stretch his legs if he were of a mind to."
Simon thought back over these years as be rode toward Hawfields on this cold wintry morning in 1781.
He wondered how soon the British would arrive, how many of them there would be. The war was all around him now. Simon was growing old and he no longer felt the spirit of youthful causes. He had heard it said that this was war for independence, but independence was a thing of uncertain value. He hated the Tories for he had seen the evil in them but he could not fight them for he was a Quaker.
It was a long way from Guilford. especially in this snow. It might be several days before they came. Or perhaps they had already been marching and were nearer to Cane Creek than he thought.
Simon pondered these things and gently urged his horse to go faster. It would do no harm to place as much distance as possible between him and the British army .They would not come through the Hawfields country, for that was strongly Whig territory, but they would be safe in the Quaker settlement. Yes, they would be quite safe among the Friends on Cane Creek.
"
Mama, there's someone at the door!"
"Get thee to the kitchen, child, I will answer it."
Mrs. Dixon lifted the latch on the heavy plank door and opened it a small crack.
"Good evening, mam," said a voice from the darkness beyond.
"Is this the place of the miller."
"It is." she replied.
"Then may we inquire if the miller is here?
"He . . . he is gone away, Mrs. Dixon, her voice revealing a small element of fright.
"What is this place?"
'It is a community of Friends," replied Mrs. Dixon.
"Good," said the voice. "Then, let us hope that Friends will show hospitality to His Majesty's loyal soldiers."
"What do thee wish?"
'The snows are too deep to permit us to continue our journey. We find it necessary to camp here for the night I trust you as Quakers, see fit to remain neutral in this rebellion."
"We do. your worship" replied the miller's wife.
"Excellent," replied the soldier. "We have a number of wounded men. You villagers will quarter them for the night in your homes."
"My husband, the miller, is not here," said Mrs. Dixon. "Perhaps will not find it necessary to turn a helpless woman and her children into the snow on a night like this one."
"My regrets, madam and the compliments of His Worship Lord Cornwallis but it has been decided that this house shall be taken as headquarters for our encampment,. I trust you will be able to find suitable lodgings with one of your neighbors. Meanwhile we shall see to arranging quarters for then remainder of the men."
Mrs. Dixon quickly closed the heavy wooden door and leaned against it for a moment - they would return soon. They would take her home. If only Simon were . . If only ....
"What did he say. Was it one of the Redcoats?"'
silent, child. Run quickly upstairs and get my shawl."
"Are we going away, Mama"
"Yes. We are going to the mill. Go now There is no time to waste!"
It was evening by the time the Tory soldiers were settled in the village. Silently and obediently the villagers served them. They said nothing of the coarse language of their visitors, and though few of them sympathized with the Tory beliefs, they did what they could to make the "Redcoats" comfortable.
The snow had stopped falling and a multitude of stars appeared in the cold winter sky. Two lone sentries stood guard before the home of Simon, while inside, by the flickering light of a tallow candle. the British general and his Staff worked late into the night over their maps and papers.
Lord Cornwallis suddenly became conscious of a noisy commotion outside the house. He arose from his chair by the fire with long strides crossed the room and opened the door to find his sentries and one of the women of the village engaged in a heated argument.
"What is the trouble here?" he demanded. "Did I not tell you no one was to disturb me!"
"This woman, sir. . . " began one of the sentries.
Yes, yes. .."what about her'"=
The woman removed a coarse shawl from her head. Her gray hair looked almost white in the moonlight. She replied sharply to the General's question.
"You may be a Tory but that is no excuse for your rudeness! I was going into my house when these two men "
"Who are you?" said the surprised Cornwallis.
"I am the wife of Miller Dixon. This is my house and l intend to enter it. I have heard stories , about you British, but I do not intend to be . .
'What do you want here at this hour?" interrupted the General
"My pipe" replies the Miller's wife.
"You want what"
"When your men forced us us move from our own home I forgot my pipe, I was coming back for it when these men refused to let me in. By now I expect one of your men is smoking my pipe and wasting all my tobacco. But if I were not a woman . . .
"Mistress Dixon." the General said, bowing slightly with a mocking gesture, "Please have the kindness to come inside. I shall be most happy to help you find your pipe. Perhaps, then, you will leave us in peace."
The miller's wife went inside to find the pipe. As the door closed behind her, the two sentries smiled.
"She told off the old man, didn't she." said one.
"Reminds me of my own wife." his companion replied.
"When this war is over, I'm going back to Trenton, and I hope the king will get somebody besides me to do his fighting the next time."
"Aye. That goes for me, Maybe the fighting is finished now. Maybe the General is in there planning to march north again. I will be glad to leave this "snow camp."
Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. The soldiers stamped their feet in the snow to warm them. .
Lord Cornwallis mounted his horse and turned for a last look over the village.
"Captain." he said to his aide "what did the miller say that this village was named?"
"The Cane Creek settlement, my lord." replied the Captain.
"Cane creek one would judge that a fitting name from the cane that grows on the banks of this stream."
"One would, my lord." "But if one saw the village in winter, what would one call it. Captain?" Perhaps. . . Snow Camp lord."
"Hmmm. Yes That is a fittingting name . . . Snow Camp."
The General tightened his grip on the reins and spurred his horse toward the head of the column. A sharp command was sounded and the troops began to move. Against the background of glistening snow their red coats made a brilliant pattern of contrast. The hoofs of their horses left deep imprints in the crust of the snow.
The British soldiers had been cold and hungry when they arrived at the little settlement on Cane Creek. They killed 250 of the villagers sheep and from 50 to 75 cattle. To build their campfires they used the rails of Simon Dixon's fences. Benches were dragged from the Cane Creek Meeting House to use as chopping blocks for the stolen meat. Learning that the Tories planned to start his father's grist mill, one of Simon Dixon's sons slid under the mill and threw part of the apparatus out of joint and since there was not a miller among the British, they were unable to repair the damage.
On the morning of March 25. the British resumed their march toward Wilmington, going by way of Pittsboro and crossing Deep River at Ramsay's Mill. (Moncure).
Tradition says there are two or three brass cannon buried some where in the vicinity of Dixon's Mill to this day, presumably in the mill pond or the cemetery. They were brought into the village by Cornwallis' army and left behind when the Tories left Snow Camp. Fearful that he would be pursued by General Nathaniel Greene, Cornwallis decided ot to take the cannon with him.
When Simon Dixon learned that the Tories were occupying his village he decided to return at once to do what he could for his family and neighbors.
Several days after his return to; Snow Camp, it is said of Cornwallis' soldiers seized him and tortured him to make him reveal where he had hidden a quantity of gold which they suspected him of having.
The affair was like a ghastly nightmare to Simon. He remembered only the leering faces and the threats, and then the pain of the tongs with which they tortured!him.
"Speak up, Miller! Tell us where your gold is, old man! We know have it hidden hereabouts. Speak up, old man!"
Simon said nothing. He endured the pain and remained silent. At last he passed into unconsciousness and remembered nothing else.
On the Sabbath, when the Tories were gone, the villagers gathered the Cane Creek Meeting House to give thanks for the things which had been spared to them.
Beyond the weathered church building, in the "burying ground" there were a handful of new graves. Here lay the Tory soldiers whose blood had stained the snow of the peaceful little village. Here lay the men who would remain forever in the ground of their snow camp.
Simon Dixon was not in the Meeting House on that Sabbath. He lay feverish on his bed and thought about the events which had so recently come to pass. He remembered the year so long ago when he had gone to the first meeting in this frontier country. The members had come in wagons and by horseback from New Garden and Deep River, and year by year the meeting and the village had grown. Sixty - eight certificates were presented during the first four years. 28 from meetings in Pennsylvania, two from Hopewell, six from Fairfax in Virginia seven from Camp Creek, Virginia, two from Gunpowder, Maryland and one from Ireland. . .
