Many people are not aware that a poem commemorates the fight between
Indians and U.S. rangers at Hill's Fort in 1814.
Plans are now under way to construct a visitors center near the site of
Hill's Fort southwest of Greenville near the Millersburg Rd.
A Bond County farmer named W. W. Willeford wrote a poem honoring Tom
Higgins, a survivor and the hero of the battle between Indians and
rangers near the fort in 1814.
Four rangers were killed, and two, including Higgins, were wounded.
Higgins later was named the assistant doorkeeper of the state House of
Representatives at the state Capitol in Vandalia. He was buried in
Vandalia.
Willeford's poem appears in his 1924 book titled "The Passing of the
Illini and Other Poems."
The poem is titled "Tom Higgins" and can also be sung to the tune of
"Yankee Doodle." Here is the poem:
Tom Higgins Came to Illinois
From his home in Kentucky
Where he had lived as man and boy,
And Illinois was lucky.
For Indians roamed the woods and plains
And paddled on the river,
Their savage hands left bloody stains
From rifle, bow and quiver.
A little block-house sheltered men
Who, like Tom Higgins, waited
Not for safe-conduct there, but then
Had boldly immigrated.
Brave men were in that little fort
And by their Captain's order
They marched, a bloody death to court
>From Indians on the border.
They did not blanch, but grasped their guns
With hands that never trembled:
Americans, they were true sons
Of freemen, there assembled.
The foe discovered (ten to one)
Was anxious for a battle,
And ere the fight had scarce begun
The soldiers fell like cattle.
The Captain and three soldiers died,
Another, with leg shattered
Crawled to the fort while Tom defied
The redskins, (who were scattered.)
His rifle spoke, once, twice, each time,
A redskin went to wander
Into the happy hunting clime
For redskins, over yonder.
Now Tom was weak from loss of blood,
Yet when a savage drew him
With rifle up until he stood,
Tom fired the gun and slew him.
A woman shamed his comrades, till
They left the fort to save him
And rushing with her down the hill
A chance for life they gave him.
Though tomahawked and filled with lead
His body gashed and gory;
He was not numbered with the dead,
But lived to tell the story.
Now, near the one-time Capitol
Of our great State, he's sleeping
A-waiting for his Savior's call,
While Fame, his name is keeping.
Epitaph
Here rests Tom Higgins --- Pioneer ----
A brave man -- one of many,
Who fought the Indian without fear,
And never charged a penny.
A rugged man, a rugged life,
A rugged time to live it
But now he's free from toil and strife,
All honor we will give it.
Incidentally, Willeford, who died in 1934, took a much more sympathetic approach to
Indians in his title poem "The Passing of the Illini." A portion of it
reads:
Brave Illini ! Your tribe is gone,
Your hunting grounds were tramped upon
By those who conquered then;
Your monument for aye will stand;
We'll ne'er forget you, in the land
Where now dwell pale-faced men.
Though you are dead, your name shall live
In the great State whose name you give....
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