Kate’s notes: Rebecca Jane Gilleland Fisher died in Austin on March 21, 1926, at the age of 94. Her obituary, as published by the San Antonio Express, may be found in the Gilliland Trails library.
   Mrs. Gilleland Fisher was actually the pastor’s second wife. He had first married Elizabeth Watts in St. Clair, Illinois, on September 25, 1825. Rev. Fisher died at Austin on August 28, 1880.
  A short transcript of a document relating to the players in these events follows the newspaper article.

Galveston Daily News
Galveston, Texas
16 November, 1913

SHE WAS CAPTURED BY THE INDIANS

One of the grand old ladies of Texas
tells interesting story of early days in
Texas—With clergyman husband went
to California in wagon. Met with many
rough characters and endured privations.
Was president of Daughters of Texas.
Went to school in Galveston.

BY S.M. LESESNE
Special Correspondence of The News

AUSTIN, Tex., Nov. 15. – Mrs. Rebecca J. Fisher of Austin is one of the notable and grand old ladies of Texas. She has passed her eightieth birthday. She has had a career laden with toil, perils, privations and adventures. She came from Pennsylvania to Texas about seventy-six years ago with her father and mother, Johnson Gilleland and Mary Barbour Gilleland.  They entered Texas through the gateway at Galveston.  This latter city, which has grown to be the second city in the United States in the value of its exports, was then a rude and unpretentious village on a bleak and desolate island. From Galveston the Gilleland family removed to Brazoria, and thence to the Refugio settlement. Mrs. Fisher’s father was a member of Captain Tomlinson’s company of Texas troops. This was in the days of the republic.
   It was in 1840 that her father and mother were killed by the Indians in what is now a part of Refugio County. She and her little brother were carried away by their cruel captors. She was 7, and her brother 6 years old at the time. Much has been said and written about this sad and tragic event. While in conversation with a representative of The News, Mrs. Fisher stated the facts in connection with the murder of her father and brother and the capture of herself and her little brother, substantially as follows:
   “It was in the springtime in the year of 1840. On a lovely afternoon, when the prairies were robed in their most brilliant garments of floral beauty, the family went out for a walk. We had gone only a few rods from the house and were not thinking of danger when the Indians dashed upon us, killing father and mother.
   “I remember that when mother received the fatal stroke she had hold of the arms of brother and myself, and was praying to God to save her children. We were baptized in her blood and her prayer was answered, for her children, and we were rescued within a few hours after our capture. Father was killed while going to the house for his gun. This tragedy occurred about sundown.
Captive of Chief’s Wife.
   “The Indians left as soon as they had finished their murderous deed, carrying brother and me with them. The chief’s wife took charge of me. She was very vicious and threatened to cut off our hands and feet for crying, but she would not let any of the others hurt us. In less than an hour, however, she became better tempered. She would even stroke my long golden hair.
   “Our captors were pursued, surprised, attacked and routed within less time than a day after they had left our home. They were in camp, seemingly resting in security, when the company of Texas Rangers dashed upon them and stampeded them.  The Indians pierced brother’s body with a lance and left him for dead. They struck me on the head near the temple with a sharp instrument. The chief’s old squaw could not protect us when the Rangers came. The Rangers did not halt in the camp, but pressed their pursuit of the Indians. As soon as they had passed I took my brother in my arms, he having returned to consciousness, and sought a hiding place for us in the brush in the edge of the prairie. After the fight was over we saw the men come dashing toward us. Thinking they might be Indians, we again sought our hiding place, but when they called us by name we went to them. We were covered with blood and the men wept when they saw us.
   “They took us to a family with whom they left us, and with whom we remained until our relatives sent for us. When they sent for us this family refused to give [us] up, and General Albert Sidney Johnston then came for and took us. He carried us to Victoria, leaving with us a Presbyterian preacher named Blair. We remained with him until our relatives sent for us. I was so painfully hurt and badly frightened that I could not remember the casualties of the fight. I was sent to school at Galveston and Rutersville. My brother lived and grew to manhood. He wrote much for the newspapers, and at one time he was called the Texas poet.”
   In connection with the fight that ensued when the Gilleland children were rescued, it may be a matter of some interest to the many friends of Mrs. Fisher to state that Peter H. Fagan, who lives on the San Antonio River, not far from the old Gilleland home, has in his possession an Indian spear that was taken from the Indian when Mrs. Fisher and her little brother were rescued. This spear is in a good state of preservation. It was brought home from the fight that ensued by Peter Teal, who was a member of the ranger company that rescued these children. Mr. Teal was an uncle of Mr. Fagan.
Was With Rangers.
   Touching this fight and the recapture of the children, this extract is reproduced from an article which appeared in The Galveston News last spring:
   “Peter Teal, an uncle of Mr. Fagan, was with Captain Price’s force of rangers, who routed the Indians and recaptured the children. Mr. Teal in relating this fight to his family, as he often did, stated that Indians were quietly resting in camp, unmindful of the approach of the whites, and they were completely surprised when the fight opened. In an instant the white men and the Indians were grappling with each other in a hand-to-hand fight. The plan of attack had been arranged so that the children could be recovered without injury to them. Mr. Teal, remembering their names, called them aloud. In answer to this call the little girl responded as she arose from her hiding place with her little brother in her arms. He was nearer dead than alive.”
   In 1848 Mrs. Fisher (nee Gilleland) became the consort of Rev. Orceneth Fisher, who was known for his good deeds from Texas to California. The marriage occurred in Rutersville while Dr. Fisher was engaged as editor of the Texas Wesleyan Banner. He was regarded as one among the strong and prominent men of the Methodist Episcopal Church South. He was nearly always a presiding elder or an editor of some church paper.
   Accompanied by his wife, they made the trip from Texas to California in a stage over the old overland route. History records and the old settlers remember what dangers and privations were met and endured by those who made this long and fatiguing journey in the’50’s,  when the “unexplored West” was the roving and raiding grounds for outlaws,  riffians[sic] and the savage red men of the plains. Arriving in California, Dr. and Mrs. Fisher found conditions existing in the social, business, religious and political realms anything but ideal. The evils and corruption that had run riot in business and politics had produced a reign of lawlessness and a disregard for human rights and safety.
Murderer Had Been Hanged
   While Dr. Fisher was serving the church in California, James King, the son of William King, editor of the Bulletin, was killed. This intensified the bitterness and antagonism that existed there between the law and order and the anti-law and order parties. Dr. Fisher was invited to preach the funeral sermon of Mr. King at Stockton, which he did, and while in the midst of his oration a telegram came announcing that the murderers of Mr. King had been hanged. This hanging cleared up the disturbed atmosphere to some extent and brought about better conditions.
   After this Dr. Fisher went to Oregon, where he had been invited to come and preach and organize the Methodist Episcopal Church South. The bishop wrote to him telling him that he could take Oregon into the San Francisco district. This was on the eve of the civil war, and the ruffians had said that the Southern Church should never be organized in Oregon. Dr. Fisher, however, was not a man who could be intimidated and swerved from his path of duty. He went and made arrangements for holding a camp meeting near Salem. Previous to the beginning of the meeting some one hoisted an old flag that was torn and tattered. About the time that the services were about to begin, a mob of about 300 came near and a man stated that Fisher had not removed the flag, and thereupon the mob came rushing to the arbor with the cry of “Hang him! Hang him!” The men in the arbor grabbed their six-shooters, and women and children screamed and fainted. For awhile things looked serious.
   “I grabbed the leader,” says Mrs. Fisher, “by the collar and held him fast. He looked into my eyes and turned away without speaking. I will never forget the vicious expression of his countenance.
   “During the excitement of this disturbance, Dr. Fisher retained his wonted equilibrium, and through his composure did much toward quieting the mob. He told them that he was ‘there as a minister of peace and not of war; that he wanted to preach to them, and would do them no harm.’ Order and quiet had scarcely been restored before he began the delivery of his sermon, preaching from the text: ‘Love worketh no ill to his neighbor; therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law.’ They felt the power of the sermon and were subdued by it. It did our church much good, making it grow and increase in numbers all through that country. The next day after the disturbance the father of the leader of the mob sent me a piece of Oregon cloth to make a cloak for me. He said that I had saved the life of his son. Those were awful days in that country, and I became known to those people as the ‘woman who quelled the mob.’ The men said that if one shot had been fired on that memorable occasion that I would have been instantly killed. But I gave no thought to self. I was only an humble instrument in the hands of the Lord to be used in the accomplishment of his purposes.”
Endured Many Hardships.
   “No one,” says Mrs. Fisher, “can know the many hardships and trying things that I had to endure, but through them all God has been my stay and unfailing source of help. I had to go by private conveyance from Sacramento, Cal., to Eugene City, Ore. At that time the rough country over which we journeyed was infested with savages. A company of troops whom we met accompanied us during a part of this journey. We passed near the place where the Custer massacre occurred about a decade later. For days at a time we traveled without seeing a single human habitation. The footprints of civilized man had not been impressed upon the face of this rough and rugged country that was wild and weird, but nevertheless fascinating and awe-inspiring, with its impressive silence and romantic solitude.”
   “We returned to Texas about 1870 to find that many men were being arrested and thrown into prison for the part they took on the side of the South during the civil war. Dr. Fisher, who died more than twenty years ago, served as many as two terms as chaplain in the congress of the republic of Texas.
Mother of Texas.
   Mrs. Fisher has been called “the mother of Texas” by her friends and by those who are familiar with the many good deeds and sacrifices which Texas has received at her hands. This good and noble old lady has served several times as president of the Daughters of the Republic, and deserves to be honored by Texas and Texans. Her life has been one of sacrifice for the uplift of humanity. She and her husband were among the early missionaries who carried the Bible, the hymn book and the “bloodless banner of the cross” to the struggling settlements that had been planted in the wilderness of Texas and of the West. The good seeds which she and Dr. Fisher sowed along their pathway through the desolate and waste places of the desert, are still springing up, and growing, and bringing forth the choicest fruits and flowers of Christian civilization, such as churches, schools, colleges, universities and orphan homes, to say nothing of the many social, business and political advantages which the people are today enjoying under a reign of progress and prosperity in Texas.

-transcription by Kate Maynard, 2012

Additional notes: As purely a matter of interest, the old letter transcribed below regards the Gilleland family who were the subjects of the historical account published in the Galveston paper.

From…
Stephen F. Austin State University
Ralph. W. Steen Library
East Texas Research Center

For a full description of this document, see: http://digital.sfasu.edu/cdm4/document.php?CISOROOT=/EastTexRC&CISOPTR=12545&REC=1

Page 3 of Eugenia Sterne Barret to her uncle, Charles S. Taylor, dated December 29, 1860
(excerpt) I did not go to Church this morning for it was too cold - and another thing Mr Gilleland wanted me to stay with him this morning. He is the unfortunate young man who was shot on the street accidentally a week ago. He suffers very much & we think he will not live long. Perhaps you remember him the family that was killed by the Indians years ago of that name. He & one sister were taken prisoners & were recaptured by the Americans – he has only that sister living all the rest were killed. She married old Parson Fisher & went to California, you doubtly remember him. He was about 30 years older than his wife – they are now in Oregon – poor fellow, he wishes so much he could see his sister once more.

William McCalla Gilleland did not die of the wounds he received in 1860 though he never truly recovered from them; he gradually declined over a period of painful years and passed away in 1894. A biographical portrait of William Gilleland may be found in the Gilliland Trails library.