72 Chronicles of the Cape Fear River

George Burgwyn, and Mary, who became the wife of Col. Hugh
Waddell, from which union sprang the Waddell family, so long
and honorably known on the Cape Fear.

Turning east from Castle Haynes and crossing the county
road, we come to The Hermitage, the residence of the Burgwyn
family. The founder of this family was Mr. John Burgwyn,
an English gentleman, in olden times an opulent merchant, who
carried on an extensive commerce between Wilmington and
Bristol in England. He must have had fine taste, as displayed
by the manner in which the grounds around The Hermitage
were laid off and improved. Its fine avenues and handsomely
arranged pleasure-grounds surpassed everything in the whole
country round. Mr. George Burgwyn, who occupied The
Hermitage after his father’s death, was also a gentleman of
good taste, and devoted much attention to the decoration of the
place, keeping it in handsome condition.

Mr. George Burgwyn reared a numerous and highly respect-
able family. His oldest son, Capt. John Burgwyn, of the United
States Army, was killed in battle in the Mexican War, and his
grandson, Gen. George B. Anderson, died of a wound received
at the Battle of Antietam.

We will turn now westward and, crossing the county road at
a short distance, come to Rocky Run, where lived Dr. Nathaniel
Hill. In earlier times this place was the residence of Mr.
Maurice Jones, whose daughter Dr. Hill married. Of the his-
tory of this gentleman, Mr. Jones, the writer never heard much.
But a tradition worth relating will illustrate his firmness and
remarkable self-possession and presence of mind. He was a great
woodsman, and in the habit of still-hunting. On one occasion
he was creeping to shoot a deer, which was feeding at a dog-
wood tree. When, feeling that something was dragging at one
of his legs, he turned his head and saw that it was a large rattle-
snake, which had struck and fastened its fangs in the buck-
skin leggings that all huntsmen wore at that day, he deliberately
crawled on, dragging the snake as he went. Getting within
proper range, he fired and killed the deer, then, turning, killed

the snake.
Dr. Nathantel Hill was sent to Scotland when he was quite

young, where he was placed with an apothecary. Having com-

pleted a full term at this business, he entered the medical col-
lege at Edinburgh, where he remained until he had completed
his medical course. Returning home before he was quite of age,

 

Permanent Settlement 73

he entered actively upon the practice of his profession at Wil-
mington. Full of energy and earnestness, with remarkable
sagacity and decision, he very soon acquired the confidence of
the community. His reputation was established and not sur-
passed in the whole Cape Fear region.

After a laborious and lucrative practice of twenty-five years,
Dr. Hill retired with an independent estate to Rocky Run,
where he had built a comfortable and commodious house. Here,
before the prime of his life was over and in the full vigor of
manhood, he took up his abode and for many years dispensed a
liberal hospitality to a large circle of friends and relatives.

On the first day of January of each year, that being Dr. Hill’s
birthday, a numerous party of friends and relatives always as-
sembled at Rocky Run to celebrate the event with feasting and
good cheer. Then it was that those fine deer hunts came off,
which were so skillfully conducted that they were invariably
successful. The standers were judiciously placed, and the
bringing down of the game depended on their skill as marks-
men. In the management of these hunts, the guests, whether old
or young, were invariably placed at the best stands, the doctor
taking the chances as they might arrive for himself. He always
earried a long flint-and-steel single-barrel silver-mounted gun,
and it was not often that he failed to bring down the deer
coming fairly by him within one hundred yards. Many a day
of sport has the writer enjoyed with this noble old gentleman at
his fine old seat. Most systematic and punctual in his habits,
invariably as we rose from the breakfast table (8 o’clock in
winter) the driver was waiting with horses and dogs, eager for
the drive, and as punctually we returned by 2 o’clock, the dinner
hour, as the family were never kept waiting.

The old Rocky Run mansion was destroyed by fire many
years since, and the place has shared the fate of all others on

the Northeast and fallen into stranger hands.

The next two places below on the river were Rose Hill, the
residence of the Quince family, and Rock Hill, of the Davises,
two rather inconsiderable and inferior rice plantations. The
Quinces were among the earliest of the gentry settlers on the
Cape Fear. I have heard an old story related about a Mr.
Parker Quince, somewhat characteristic, I presume, of himself
and his times. It seems that he was a merchant and quite a
trafficker. In sending an order for goods on one occasion to
London (from whence most all importations were made) a

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