Sara, I'm on my way out the door, or I'd look a bit more, but a quick search on Yahoo for Hiwassee Purchase turned up this, among other things. Hope it helps.-Ken ParksThe Rockwood Times, Rockwood, TN, Thursday, 12 May 1904, Vol. XXIV, No. 9. About Roane County People. by W.E. McELWEE.--- On the 27th of February 1819, John C. CALHOUN, then Secretary of war, concluded a treaty with the Cherokee indians by which they ceded the lands between the Tennessee and Hiwassee river to the State of Tennessee. The lands ceded on the Tennessee were at one sectionized and sold to settlers. Among the purchasers was a man by the name of SIMPSON, who settled upon the lands purchased and raised a numerous family, some of whom went west. One (John) located at the town of Fayetteville, Arkansas. He was industious, manly and frugal, thus winning the confidence of those with whom he came in contact. Having saved his earnings he bought property in the town, and in 1856 married the daughter of his former employer. The country around Fayetteville is undulating, broken by occasional hills and ravines. The town is located upon high ground overlooking a deep ravine on the south and west, through which flows a small rivulet. The court house, a rather imposing structure, is in the center of the town, and the streets are laid off in the exact form of the diagram in the old game of "Bushel." SIMPSON'S house was southwest of the courthouse, on south side of the second street out and just at the crest of the hill. There was a basement that opened on a level with the street. Upon this brick basement stood a neat and comfortable frame building, in which SIMPSON and his wife lived with but one thing lacking to their complete happiness, no children blessed their union. The civil war came on and the people of Fayetteville were intensely southern in sentiment and sympathy. Its entire available populations went into the confederate army. After the defeat at Elkhorn the federal army encamped in and around the town, which in main part they demolished. SIMPSON'S house however having been taken for "headquarters" escaped. After the close of the war SIMPSON returned and he and his good wife went about restoring their home. The town built up again and there was an air of thrift and enterprise on every hand. It was a Sunday in June. The sun rose bright in the east, kissing the dew drops from the grass, and birds in the tree tops trilled their songs of joy. The church bells rang out their invitation, as if saying, come, on, come, on! and join in praise of the creator. But cirrus clouds fleaked the sky, stretching rapidly from west to east, followed with a dark haze gathering along the horizon. Quick flashes of lightening shot upward as if jerking the black pall toward the zenith. A low rumbling thunder grew louder and more distinct. There was commotion in the clouds, and light and dark spots chased each other like the waves on the surface of a wind beaten ocean. A deathlike stillness settled over the town. The people knew that the signs portended, but where would the cyclone cut its way. Mrs. SIMPSON sat in her room in the basement combing her long, brown and silken hair. On the rug, at her side, lay her little pet dog. SIMPSON watched from the back yard the gathering storm. A large spot, black as the fabled darkness of Egypt, began to whirl in the clouds, surrounded by a white ring. From the center they projected a point, lengthening out directly toward the ill fated down. As SIMPSON turned to go in to inform his wife of the impending danger, the wind struck him, when he revived he was lying against the street wall covered with blood, his wife was in corner of the basement dead. The house was gone, all the south half of town was gone. The debris and the dead was piled into the deep basin on the east of the town. A farmer found the little dog and a child, almost a year old, three miles away, unhurt. As no one knew to whom the child belonged SIMPSON asked for and the good and kind hearted Mrs. POLLARD gave it to him. The house has been rebuilt, another Mrs. SIMPSON presides over the home. If it should ever be your fortune to share the kind hospitalities of the home do not let little Providence, as they call her, tell you of her dreams or SIMPSON of the cyclone, just before retiring for the night.