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Historical collections of Virginia

containing a collection of the most interesting facts, traditions, biographical sketches, anecdotes, &c., relating to its history and antiquities, together with geographical and statistical descriptions : to which is appended, an historical and descriptive sketch of the District of Columbia : illustrated by over 100 engravings, giving views of the principal towns, seats of eminent men, public buildings, relics of antiquity, historic localities, natural scenery, etc., etc.
  
  
  
  
  
  
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ACCOMAC COUNTY.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

  

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ACCOMAC COUNTY.

This is the northernmost of the two counties forming the "eastern
shore of Virginia," which is cut off from the rest of the state
by Chesapeake Bay. Accomac was formed from Northampton
co., in 1672. The term Accawmacke—as it was anciently spelt—
is derived from a tribe of Indians who once inhabited this region.
It is about 48 miles long, and 10 wide; its surface is level, and the
soil, though generally light, is in many parts fertile. It produces
well, wheat, corn, cotton, oats, &c., and an abundance of table
vegetables. Pop. 1830, 19,656; 1840, whites 9,518, slaves 4,630,
free colored 2,848; total 17,096.

Accomac C. H., or Drummondstown, in the heart of the county,
212 miles E. of Richmond, contains about 40 dwellings. Horntown,
Modest-town, and Pungoteague, are small villages.

Upon the Atlantic coast are numerous islands, stretching along
the whole length of the "eastern shore." The two northernmost are
Chincoteague and Assateague. The first is about 8 miles long,
and contains nearly a hundred families. About one-third of their
bread-corn is raised upon the island; the sea and wrecks furnish
the remainder of their subsistence. Assateague, though many
times larger, has but few inhabitants, and is unfit for the cultivation
of corn. Its rich bent-growing lands are subject to inundation
from the spring tides. The scenery around Chincoteague is in
many places inexpressibly sublime, and the view of the ocean and
the surrounding cluster of islands, from the elevated sand-hills of
Assateague, is enchanting. The Farmer's Register, from which
this article is abridged, says that the Hebrides of Scotland, so profitable
to their proprietors, do not possess a hundredth part of the
advantages of these Atlantic islands for all the purposes of comfortable
living and extensive stock-raising; yet, for want of enterprise,
they are neglected. These islands are flat, sandy, and soft,
producing abundance of excellent grass.

Some thirty years since, an immense number of wild horses were raised upon these
islands, with no other care than to brand and castrate the colts. Their winter subsistence
was supplied abundantly by nature. The tall, heavy rich grass of the flatlands
affording them green food nearly the whole of the winter, the tops of which alone were
killed by the frosts, mild as usual so near the ocean. It was customary to have annual
gatherings in June, to drive these wild horses into pens, where they were seized by
islanders accustomed to such adventures, who pushed fearlessly in among them. On
being broken, more docile and tractable animals could not be found. The horses have
been gradually diminishing, until on one island they are nearly extinct, and the rustic
splendor, the crowds, and the wild festivity of the Assateague horse-pennings, are
among the things that were.

The multitudes of both sexes that formerly attended these occasions of festal mirth
were astonishing. The adjoining islands were literally emptied of their simple and
frolic-loving inhabitants, and the peninsula itself contributed to swell the crowd. For
fifty miles above and below the point of meeting, all the beauty and fashion of a certain
order of the female population, who had funds or favorites to command a passage, were
sure to be there. All who loved wild adventure, whose hearts danced at the prospect
of a distant water excursion, and a scene of no ordinary revel, where the ocean rolled
his billows almost to their feet; all who had a new gown to show, or a pretty face to
exhibit, who could dance well or sing; belles that sighed for beaux, or beaux that wanted


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sweethearts; all who loved to kiss or be kissed, to caress or be caressed; all, in short,
whose hearts delighted in romance without knowing its name, hurried away to this
anxiously-expected scene of extravagant jollity, on the narrow thread of beach that the
ocean seemed every moment to usurp. The imagination can scarcely conceive the extravagant
enthusiasm with which this exciting sport was anticipated and enjoyed. It
was a frantic carnival, without its debauchery. The young of both sexes had their
imaginations inflamed by the poetical narratives of their mothers and maiden aunts,
who in their more juvenile days were wont to grace those sylvan fetes of the mad flight
of wild horses careering away along a narrow, naked, level sand-beach, at the top of
their speed, with manes and tails waving in the wind, before a company of mounted men
upon the fleetest steeds, shouting and hallooing in the wildest notes of triumph, and
forcing the animals into the angular pen of pine logs prepared to enclose them. And
then the deafening peals of loud huzzas from the thousand half-frenzied spectators,
crowding into a solid mass around the enclosure, to behold the beautiful wild horse in
all his native vigor, subdued by man, panting in the toils, and furious with heat, rage,
and fright; or hear the clamorous triumphs of the adventurous riders, each of whom
had performed more than one miracle of equestrian skill on that day of glorious daring;
and the less discordant neighing of colts that had lost their mothers, and mothers that
had lost their colts, in the mêlée of the sweeping drive, with the maddened snorts and
whinnying of the whole gang—all, all together formed a scene of unrivalled noise, uproar,
and excitement, which few can imagine who had not witnessed it, and none can
adequately describe.

But the play of spirits ended not here. The booths were soon filled, and loads of substantial
provision were opened, and fish and water-fowl, secured for the occasion, were
fried and barbecued by hundreds, for appetites whetted to marvellous keenness by early
rising, a scanty breakfast, exercise, and sea air. The runlets of water, and the jugs of
more exhilarating liquor, were lightened of their burdens. Then softer joys succeeded;
and music and dance, and love and courtship, held their undisputed empire until deep
in the night, when all sought shelter and repose on board of their boats, moored by the
shore, or among their island friends, who gladly entertained them with characteristic
hospitality. Many a winter's evening tale did the incidents of those merry-making occasions
supply, and many a peaceful young bosom, of retired rural beauty, was assailed
with other emotions than the rough sports of an Assateague horse-penning inspired;
and from one anniversary of this half-savage festivity to another, all was talk of the joy
and transports of the past, and anticipations of the future.