(The New York Sun was a daily newspaper, published in New York City, New York, from 1933 until 1950. It was one of the most influential American newspapers through the early twentieth century; and was the first successful penny daily paper in the United States. It was known for it's witty, humorous treatment of news, a clear style of journalism, and the occasional sensational approach to scandals.)
**Please excuse any out-of-date or derogatory terms that are used. This is a true, uncorrected transcription of the original newspaper article. ** This account is signed by John R. Spears:
"CHINCOTEAGUE, Va., May 2 (1890) - In a shallow, unnamed arm of the Atlantic, and six miles off the northern end of the Virginian peninsula, lies the island of Chincoteague. Though nine miles long by one in width,more than half of its area is just awash at every tide, and half the remainder is under water at all but the dryest seasons. A wide belt of salt marshes, a succession of low pine covered ridges that look like stranded sand waves, with broad sweet water glades between,grown full of pond lilies and rank water grasses - such is Chincoteague as nature made her. It is as if a section of Florida had been picked up and dropped down on this coast, with a narrow sea wall of sandy hills stretching for fifty miles up and down the coast, just off to seaward, to protect it. Cut off from the mainland by six miles of water, protected from the waves of the sea by the natural breakwater, its sands and waters the resorts of numberless birds and wild fowl in their seasons, and its shoals covered with clams and oysters of unsurpassed quality, a sunnier, sleepier, happier combination of land and water for the home of a lazy man would be hard to find.
Not only is Chincoteague isolated: it is unique. No other section of the East is able to boast, as Chincoteague is, of being the home of a herd of ponies almost as wild as those the people run down and lasso on the plains of No Man's Land. No other district of equal extent in old Virginia can boast that its whole people, save one man, was loyal to Uncle Sam when the state voted to secede from the Union. In few, if in any other portions of the country,is the land under water worth so much more than the dry land as it is in Chincoteague. Rarely can a community be found in such excellent health when so utterly regardless of sanitary laws, while a more curious combination of the old and the new, the conservative and the progressive, the lazy and the thrifty, than the people of Chincoteague, must be sought for long if found elsewhere.
Chincoteague has no historical society; indeed, until within recent years, it had very few people who could read. The earliest exploration and settlement of the island are therefore located only by inference and tradition. It is probable, however, that the island was explored not long after the year of 1600, for old records in the peninsula show that the first land grant there was made to William Eppes, on 3 February 1626, and the second to "Nicholas Hoskins of Accomac, yeoman," two days later. The peninsula was therefore already settled at that time, and doubtless the island was visited by the first settlers.
The early settlers had only such horses as they brought from the old country, and the existence here at an early day of an isolated herd, the only one in the county so far as any one knew at the time, was a matter that must have brought many horse hunters to the island.
The ponies were well worth coming for. Tough, strong, and wiry, they were easily domesticated, and, once broken to saddle or harness, gave excellent service to their owners by day and "rustled for their feed at night," as a Western man might say. Where they came from originally is a mystery. The guessers of the country say they think a ship in the days of Queen Elizabeth must have sailed from some of Sir Walter Raleigh's settlements with a cargo of horses, and, failing to make landfall at the capes, stranded on Assateague Island, as the long sandbar outside of Chincoteague is called. They guess that the crew and passengers escaped and were carried to the settlements by the tribe of Pocahontas, and that the horses jumped overboard and made themselves as comfortable as the circumstances would permit on Assateague beach and Chincoteague Island. Then, because those circumstances were not always suited to horse nature, because northeasters laden with snow and sleet would sweep down upon the island,and because the glades froze over and snow covered the grass in the winter, so that feed was scarce, the horse of the days of Queen Elizabeth shrunk into the pony of which there is a tolerable trustworthy tradition as far back as 1750. But, if his manner of life made the pony small, it also made him hardy, and that was all anybody in the ancient days cared to know about him. He could endure all the work and ill usage his captors chose to bestow upon him, and that was enough.
Naturally, in their trips to Chincoteague for ponies, the early Virginians noted that it was a goodly land for a pioneer. The sea lay just beyond to temper the cold of winter and the heat of summer. There were no forest of pine here then as now, it is said, but only prairies and bushes around the glades. No clearing of land had to be done. The soil was sandy, but excellent for such crops as the early Virginians cultivated. The fish, the shellfish, and the game, as already mentioned, were abundant. And yet because it was isolated and the pioneers had to live gregariously for protection from the Indians, Chincoteague remained unsettled for a considerable time after permanent settlements were made in Virginia. But when danger from the Indians was over a few settlers came across and having obtained grants of land, erected homes and appropriated the ponies to the extent that if any one on the mainland thereafter wanted a pony it had to be purchased of the Chincoteaguers. But no one thought of collecting the herd into an enclosure. The ponies roamed about over the unfenced meadows and glades as before.
In the course of time, however, the natives began to assert a private ownership as against one another, and then to distinguish the different members of the herd every pony was caught and branded. Out of this grew a custom that has made Chincoteague famous all over the peninsula between the Delaware and Chesapeake Bays, and still further inland, the custom of having an annual round-up and market day. Month in and month out, hot or cold, storm or shine, the ponies are unmolested in their wanderings about the island. Fences, save where corn and potato patches exist about the cabins, have been practically unknown until recently. The meadows furnished the ponies with grass, the brush with browse, the glades with water and the pine forest which spread to the island from the mainland a little over a hundred years ago, with shelter. But in August comes the round-up. The annual product of colts must be captured, apportioned, and branded. The whole herd must therefore be corralled.
The natives begin the work by building a pen of rails large enough to hold all the ponies on the island, and more, too. It was always in former days built on a level place of ground on the beach near where the steamer wharf now stands, but now near Ragged Point, at the north end, or on Assateague. The fence is generally from ten to twelve rails high, and a wide opening guarded by two posts is left on one side, to eventually be closed by large gates. Then on the day set the entire population turns out and dozens of men and boys mounted on tame ponies ride off to gather the herd. In August, when the round-up takes place, such clouds of mosquitoes as can be found nowhere else rise over the glades, and the ponies take to the hills, as the little twelve foot elevations are called, because there the sea breezes partly protect them from insects. With whoop and yell the horsemen spread out in lines and sweep along the ridges, driving the wild ponies at a tearing pace before them, until at last all are gathered on the beach, and then they go, snorting and squealing toward the pen. A double line of horsemen await them, and by skillful riding head the herd into the enclosure and shut the gates.
Meantime the bateaus and the sloops, and in later years, a little steamer, have been bringing over such throngs of sightseers and buyers from the mainland as to create a degree of activity and excitement among the natives that it is marvelous to behold. A howling mob gathers about the pen, and, as if awed by their surroundings the ponies huddle in corners, and stand trembling. Thereupon the most experienced natives clamber over the fence, each carrying a long pole and a lasso of new manila rope. Each is followed by a squad of darkies. Carefully hanging the noose on the end of the pole the native approaches the herd, and if lucky drops the noose over the neck of a colt or of some pony which a buyer has called for. Up rises the pony on its hind legs and the away it goes; the darkies grab the rope and sink their heels into the sand to restrain it; the herd surges around the pen, snorting and throwing sand in the air; other ponies are lassoed by other owners; some of the darkies holding the ropes stumble and fall and are kicked and trodden on by the frightened herd; the spectators climb on the fence and swing their arms about and yell; and at the last the excitement and confusion reach a climax when the darkies with a heroic charge followed by hasty retreat grab a captive pony by the legs,hit him off his feet and tumble him, kicking and squealing over on to the sand, where one grabs it by the forelock and sits on its head. The discordant yells become a roar of cheers at that, and a well-earned glass of grog each is the portion of the first victorious squad of darkies.
If the pony is for sale it is secured by stout lines tied around its nose, and it is hobbled and led out. If it is a colt it is taken to a barn or shed near by, and kept there till all the colts have been captured. Then, since no one can tell which mares the colts belong to, a disinterested committee divide the colts among the owners, in proportion as near as may be to the number of mares owned by each, and they are then thrown and branded, and all odd colts are sold and the money divided in a like manner.
Years ago the herd numbered from 300 to 400, but now there are less than 200 adrift among the meadows and glades. To see the Chincoteague pony at his best approach him cautiously as he stands on a sand hill where the wind blows fresh from the Atlantic. He will be feeding away very quietly until disturbed by the presence of the spectator. Then up goes his head, his tail curves, one fore foot is slightly raised, and there he stands for a moment with the wind shivering his rough coat and blowing his shaggy mane about his head, a perfect picture of animation and apprehension. The next moment he goes scampering away in a terrible hurry to get out of sight.
As captured in the pen the pony stands not far from 12 hands high, and weighs, perhaps, 450 pounds. He is too big bellied to be handsome, but his legs, neck, and head are never ungraceful. They are of various colors, generally red, brown, or brownish gray. They are wicked looking little rascals, but, when properly broken, become perfectly safe for women and children to use, and on the mainland are very popular for dog carts and for saddle ponies for young people. The average price of the unbroken pony is $40."
** Again, this is a word for word transcript of a newspaper report written and printed in 1890. Please do not hold the use of the common word for African-Americans at that time against me, personally. **
This is the first of three or four parts of the article. I hope you enjoy reading it.
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