  Mrs. McEwen is an aged woman of Nashville, Tennessee, of revolutionary stock, having had six uncles in the revolutionary war, four of whom fell at the battle of King's Mountain. Her husband, Colonel Robert H. McEwen, was a soldier in the war of 1812, as his father had been in the revolution. Her devotion to the Union, like that of most of those who had the blood of our revolutionary fathers in their veins is intense, and its preservation and defense were the objects of her greatest concern. Making a flag with her own hands, she raised it in the first movements of secession, in Nashville, and when through the treachery of Isham Harris and his co-conspirators, Tennessee was dragged out of the Union, and the secessionists demanded that the flag should be taken down, the brave old couple nailed it to the flag-staff, and that to the chimney of their house. The secessionists threatened to fire the house if it was not lowered, and the old lady armed with a shot-gun, undertook to defend it, and drove them away. She subsequently refused to give up her fire-arms on the requisition of the traitor Harris. Mrs. Lucy H. Hooper has told the story of the rebel efforts to procure the lowering of her flag very forcibly and truthfully: HETTY McEWEN. Oh Hetty McEwen! Hetty McEwen! What were the angry rebels doing, That autumn day, in Nashville town, They looked aloft with oath and frown, Against the blue of the sunny sky; Deep was the oath, and dark the frown, And loud the shout of "Tear it down!" For over Nashville, far and wide, Rebel banners the breeze defied, Staining heaven with crimson bars; Only the one old "Stripes and Stars" Waved, where autumn leaves were strewing, Round the home of Hetty McEwen. Hetty McEwen watched that day Where her son on his death-bed lay; She heard the hoarse and angry cry— The blood of "76" rose high. Out-flashed her eye, her cheek grew warm, Up rose her aged stately form; From her window, with steadfast brow, She looked upon the crowd below. Eyes all aflame with angry fire Flashed on her in defiant ire, And once more rose the angry call, "Tear down that flag, or the house shall fall!" Never a single inch quailed she, Her answer rang out firm and free: "Under the roof where that flag flies, Now my son on his death-bed lies; Born where that banner floated high, 'Neath its folds he shall surely die. Not for threats nor yet for suing Shall it fall," said Hetty McEwen. The loyal heart and steadfast hand Claimed respect from the traitor band; The fiercest rebel quailed that day Before that woman stern and gray. They went in silence, one by one— Left her there with her dying son, And left the old flag floating free O'er the bravest heart in Tennessee, Upon that treason-tainted air, Until the rebel rule was o'er And Nashville town was ours once more. Came the day when Fort Donelson Fell, and the rebel reign was done; And into Nashville, Buell, then, Marched with a hundred thousand men, With waving flags and rolling drums Past the heroine's house he comes; He checked his steed and bared his head, "Soldiers! salute that flag," he said; "And cheer, boys, cheer!—give three times three For the bravest woman in Tennessee!" |
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