1903 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
667 
Mistress Ashe’s Piitich Bowl. 
[A Historic Incident of the American 
Revolution.] 
Wild roses in North Carolina are red. 
In the earliest days there were fields 
of these roses, bright and glowing, to be 
seen from the doorstep of the hip-roofed 
house of the Ashes. On a Summer 
morning in 1781 Mistress Ashe stood on 
the threshold of her home, and shading 
her eyes with slim fingers, she gazed 
intently Newbern way. In the dusk of 
the great hall behind Mistress Ashe 
showed a crowd of dark frightened 
faces; the slaves had crowded to the 
mansion at the first report of the com¬ 
ing of the British foe. Except for these 
slaves Mistress Ashe and her sister were 
alone. The sister was that Mistress 
Wiley Jones stories of whose charm of 
manner still bloom perennial in North 
Carolina history and song. Mistress 
Jones was now on a visit from her own 
home in Virginia. The column of dust 
rapidly approached. The sound of 
marching feet might almost have been 
heard. 
Mistress Ashe turned to one of her 
slaves; “Go quickly,” she commanded. 
“Request my sister to come hither with 
all haste to tell me what cheer she of¬ 
fered this Tarleton, whom I fear brings 
now on us his host”- 
The slave had scarcely disappeared 
when Mistress Jones, just learning of 
the dreaded approach of the enemy, was 
hastening to her sister. 
“Is it, indeed, Tarleton?” cried Mis¬ 
tress Jones. “Is it, indeed, that brag¬ 
ging colonel? I must tell you, sister, 
that this .same Tarleton bears me a 
grudge”- 
“Heaven forbid!” exclaimed Mistress 
Ashe, for Tarleton’s wrath was to be 
dreaded. 
“When the English under Cornwallis 
marched from Wilmington to Virginia,” 
pursued Mistress Jones excitedly, “while 
they tarried upon the Roanoke, a party 
of officers were quartered upon us. Among 
them was this Tarleton. On the night 
on which they were to leave us this 
braggart grew very bold in his talk of 
us ‘of the rebellion,’ as he called us. 
Roundly he abused our noble friend, 
Gen. George Washington; more rudely 
still our dear friend and the General’s 
kinsman. Col. William Washington. 
He spoke of him as that illiterate fel¬ 
low.” 
“What!” cried Mistress Ashe. 
“True. And moreover,” quoth Mis¬ 
tress Jones, “he said; ‘I hear this much- 
vaunted fellow—this Will Washington— 
can scarce write his own name.' “ 
“Ah,” quoth Mistress Ashe indignant¬ 
ly. 
“Then, ere pausing for prudent 
thought, I cried: ‘But, Colonel Tarleton, 
you ought to know better than that, for 
you bear on your person proof that he 
well knows how to make his mark!’ ” 
“My sister!” cried Mistress Ashe, 
“dared you to allude to that saber stroke 
in the hand which the gallant Washing¬ 
ton did give this Tarleton at Cowpens!” 
“I had cause to regret the swiftness 
of my tongue,” declared Mistress Jones, 
“for he straightway put his mark of 
devastation on the sundry parts of my 
property.” 
“Stay!” cried Mistress Ashe, with a 
startled gesture of remembrance. “Hast 
thou heard of the three-fold oath that 
this Tarleton has registered, repeating 
it till its braggart echoes resound from 
Seaboard to untouched forest?” 
“Tell me in all haste,” urged Mistress 
Jones, “for they are now almost at ear¬ 
shot.” 
“He has sworn that he will plant the 
flag of old England on every housetop 
in our land—if not on turret, then, for¬ 
sooth, on the ashes of every dwelling. 
He hath sworn that he will carry our 
MOTHERS.—Be sure to use“Mrs.Wins- 
low’s Soothing Syrup” for your children 
while Teething. It is the Best,— Adv. 
noble leaders, the Washingtons, in 
chains to England. He hath sworn that 
he will quaff a stirrup cup, a luck drink 
to these horrid accomplishments, from 
the Ashe punch bowl!” 
“Heavens defend us!” ejaculated Mis¬ 
tress Jones. 
On the instant the two beautiful sis¬ 
ters presented an undaunted front to 
the foes. General Leslie was in com¬ 
mand, and right glad were the sisters 
that the hot-headed Tarleton was ac¬ 
companied by a superior officer. Right 
graciously did General Leslie request 
what he might have demanded from the 
defenceless women, food and drink for 
his men and his officers. The shining 
mahogany was soon set out with ample 
store. The Saracen’s head peering from 
the heraldic device on every glittering 
piece of silver seemed to desire now to 
exchange its noble motto, “Non sibi sed 
alienis,” to a ringing “A strong arm for 
us'and a sword-point for others.” But 
the Saracen heads kept all to their in¬ 
violable silence. Mistress Ashe also 
held her lips silent through all Tarle¬ 
ton’s braggart abuse of the forces of 
her countrymen, while her heart beat 
with anxiety lest to take this occasion 
to demand a brew in the Ashe punch 
bowl. Minded of the thrust in the par¬ 
rying of wits that Mistress Jones had 
dealt him on the Roanoke, he was fain 
now to repeat his bit of braggadocio, 
sure that Mistress Jones would now be 
at his mercy, fearing, as she surely 
would feai’, to bring by any bit of her 
tongue’s sharpness his anger upon her 
sister. 
“Here, too. Mistress Jones,” he cried 
loudiy, “I find friends of those ungainly 
woodsmen, the Washingtons. Would I 
could see these wonders of the Western 
world, these”- 
“Ah, Colonel Tarleton,” rang out Mis¬ 
tress Ashe’s clear tones, “had you but 
looked behind you at Cowpens, when 
you fled so unceremoniously, you could 
have had that pleasure.” 
On the instant Tarleton grasped his 
sword hilt. Bitterly did Mistress Ashe 
repent on the instant of the piece of 
repartee, since become in line in our 
history. 
What would have been the instant re¬ 
sult of Tarleton’s wrath none could tell, 
for at that moment General Leslie, 
hitherto detained without, entered. 
Quickly he inquired the cause of Mis¬ 
tress Ashe’s agitation; quickly on learn¬ 
ing the cause he rebuked the colonel: 
“Say what you please. Mistress Ashe. 
Colonel Tarleton knows better than to 
insult a lady in my presence.” 
The colonel greatly chagrined at this 
rebuke in the face of his subalterns, 
laid a plan for speedy revenge. He 
well knew that Mistress Ashe would be 
daring enough to refuse from himself a 
demand for a draught from the famous 
brew, to be tasted only at Ashe house, 
but he fancied that she could not now 
refuse a request from his general, since 
that courtly gentleman had so readily 
taken her part against himself. 
With no hint of his oath, Tarleton 
led the talk to the noted Ashe punch 
bowl. He related for his general’s hear¬ 
ing many stories of that bowl, antique 
in England ere the Mayflower’s keel had 
cut the ocean plying westward. He told 
how in America it had grown thrice 
precious to its owners, for that almost 
every American leader of the Revolution 
had sipped exhilarating draughts from 
its generous crystal depths. He told 
how about this very board there 
gathered around that bowl, when chance 
and change of war permitted, five officers 
of the Revolutionary army, all of one 
name and blood: Gen. John Ashe, his 
son, Capt. Samuel Ashe, Col. Lhn 
Baptista Ashe, Samuel Ashe, later to 
be first Governor of North Carolina 
chosen by the people, and Cincinnatus 
Ashe, a captain of marines, and besides 
these five officers there was another, a 
private, being too young to hold a com¬ 
mission, but not too young to give his 
life to his country. 
“Mistress Ashe,” cried Leslie, ‘‘the 
soldier of any nation may feel honored 
to taste a draught from a brew that so 
many brave men have quaffed. Now 
since you have so amply entertained 
your foemen, can you not add to your 
hospitality, I pray you, a draught from 
the Ashe punch bowl?” 
Triumph at the success of his ruse 
shone on the ruddy countenance of 
Tarleton. Mistress Ashe ordered the 
brew to be brought. After the delay 
necessary to the concocting of so rich a 
beverage the bowl was borne into the 
dining hall. The crimson sides of the 
bowl caught the Summer sunshine and 
glowed with deeper rudescence. Fra¬ 
grance of roses, spices, wines, filled the 
hall. On top the softly surging, wine- 
rich waves floated a million rose petals 
—wild rose petals—shredded fi-om gol¬ 
den centers. Mistress Jones, intrepid 
woman that she was, trembled where 
she stood. She felt that if Tarleton 
must now quaff a luck drink to his de¬ 
clared designs from that bowl, destruc¬ 
tion indeed awaited her country and its 
leaders. Mistress Ashe rose from her 
seat at the head of the table. General 
Leslie and his officers rose with her. 
“General Leslie,” spoke Mistress Ashe, 
“this bowl is the most precious posses¬ 
sion of my husband’s people. Genera¬ 
tion after generation have sipped the 
nectar of this brew therefrom. The 
men who have tasted of this fragrancy 
have ever been of the brave and bravest, 
yet were they gentle as women to the 
v/eak and the defenseless. To such a 
one. General Leslie, be he friend or foe, 
I will offer a draught from this bowl.” 
Whereupon she poured a glass for 
General Leslie. While the General held 
his glass uplifted, waiting the filling 
of all the glasses. Mistress Ashe turned 
to address Tarleton. 
“Colonel Tarleton,” she said,. “I have 
heard of your triply strung oath. I 
have heard that you have sworn to plant 
the flag of England on the roof of every 
American home, or, failing that, on its 
ashes. 1 have heard that you have 
sworn to carry our leaders in chains to 
the foot of the throne.” 
The Colonel’s face glowed with fierce 
anger. 
“And I have heard,” pursued Mis¬ 
tress Ashe, “that you have vowed to take 
your stii-rup cup, ere you ride forth on 
the accomplishments of these intents, 
from the Ashe punch bowl”- 
There was a moment’s tense silence, 
when Mistress Ashe spake again: 
“Heaven grant that our leaders in 
war may become our rulers in peace!” 
Mistress Ashe put her slender hands 
about the bowl and lifted it high above 
her head. 
“Colonel Tarleton!” she cried daunt- 
lessly, “as now snaps one cord of your 
triply strung oath, so may all arrows 
shiver from the slacked bow of the brag¬ 
gart! For never. Colonel Tarleton, 
from the Ashe punch bowl shall cup be 
offered to the cruel foeraan of our 
people!” 
So saying she let slip the precious 
burden from her uplifted hands. 
Drenched with the ruddy dew, her hair 
Clowned with the rose wreath that hac 
fallen from the bowl as she cast it from 
her, with red rose petals fluttering from 
erect shoulders to high arched feet she 
made a picture beautiful, dauntless. 
General Leslie dropped his glass un¬ 
touched on the crimson wreck that had 
splashed its brilliancy over the waxened 
floor of the hall. Outside in the bril¬ 
liant sun of July a million rosebuds 
grew for fresh blooming, but never 
more would any of their kind crown 
rich libations in the once priceless, now 
shattered punch bowl of the Ashes of 
North Carolina.—Martha Young in the 
Springfield Republican. 
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