CHAPTER XXIII
AND SO IT ENDED
Our story must end here, because at this point its current flows
away forever from old Vincennes; and it was only of the post on
the Wabash that we set out to make a record. What befell Alice and
Beverley after they went to Virginia we could go on to tell; but
that would be another story. Suffice it to say, they lived happily
ever after, or at least somewhat beyond three score and ten, and
left behind them a good name and numerous descendants.
How Alice found out her family in Virginia, we are not informed;
but after a lapse of some years from the date of her marriage, there
appears in one of her letters a reference to an estate inherited
from her Tarleton ancestors, and her name appears in old records
signed in full, Alice Tarleton Beverley. A descendant of hers still
treasures the locket, with its broken miniature and battered crest,
which won Beverley's life from Long-Hair, the savage. Beside it,
as carefully guarded, is the Indian charm-stone that stopped Hamilton's
bullet over Alice's heart The rapiers have somehow disappeared,
and there is a tradition in the Tarleton family that they were given
by Alice to Gaspard Roussillon, who, after Madame Roussillon's death
in 1790, went to New Orleans, where he stayed a year or two before
embarking for France, whither he took with him the beautiful pair
of colechemardes and Jean the hunchback.
Oncle Jazon lived in Vincennes many years after the war was over;
but he died at Natchez, Mississippi, when ninety-three years old.
He said, with almost his last breath, that he couldn't shoot very
well, even in his best days; but that he had, upon various occasions,
"jes' kind o' happened to hit a Injun in the lef' eye."
They used to tell a story, as late as General Harrison's stay in
Vincennes, about how Oncle Jazon buried his collection of scalps,
with great funeral solemnity, as his part of the celebration of
peace and independence about the year 1784.
Good old Father Beret died suddenly soon after Alice's marriage
and departure for Virginia. He was found lying face downward on
the floor of his cabin. Near him, on a smooth part of a puncheon,
were the mildewed fragments of a letter, which he had been arranging,
as if to read its contents. Doubtless it was the same letter brought
to him by Rene de Ronville, as recorded in an early chapter of our
story. The fragments were gathered up and buried with him. His dust
lies under the present Church of St. Xavier,-- the dust of as noble
a man and as true a priest as ever sacrificed himself for the good
of humanity.
In after years Simon Kenton visited Beverley and Alice in their
Virginia home. To his dying day he was fond of describing their
happy and hospitable welcome and the luxuries to which they introduced
him. They lived in a stately white mansion on a hill overlooking
a vast tobacco plantation, where hundreds of negro slaves worked
and sang by day and frolicked by night. Their oldest child was named
Fitzhugh Gaspard. Kenton died in 1836.
There remains but one little fact worth recording before we close
the book. In the year 1800, on the fourth of July, a certain leading
French family of Vincennes held a patriotic reunion, during which
a little old flag was produced and its story told. Some one happily
proposed that it be sent to Mrs. Alice Tarleton Beverley with a
letter of explanation, and in profound recognition of the glorious
circumstances which made it the true flag of the great Northwest,
And so it happened that Alice's little banner went to Virginia and
is still preserved in an old mansion not very far from Monticello;
but it seems likely that the Wabash Valley will soon again possess
the precious relic. The marriage engagement of Miss Alice Beverley
to a young Indiana officer, distinguished for his patriotism and
military ardor, has been announced at the old Beverley homestead
on the hill, and the high contracting parties have planned that
the wedding ceremony shall take place under the famous little flag,
on the anniversary of dark's capture of Post Vincennes. When the
bride shall be brought to her new home on the banks of the Wabash,
the flag will come with her; but Oncle Jazon will not be on hand
with his falsetto shout: "VIVE LA BANNIERE D'ALICE ROUSSILLON!
VIVE ZHORZZH VASINTON!"