town were made by Mr. Dove, David Dixon, John Coleman, William Miller, John Creamer and Reuben Tine. Some remarked that perhaps their grandchildren might live to see the canal completed; but notwithstanding the prediction, boats passed there in 1831.

The first church built in Winchester was by the United Brethren, which was for a time, by arrangement, used by the Methodists. The second was by the Lutherans and German Reforms, jointly.

Winchester has now, in April, 1877, one Odd Fellows' Lodge, four physicians, two dry goods stores, one clothing store, two hotels, two hardware stores, one drug store, five groceries, one flour mill, three warehouses, one livery-stable, one brickyard, one carriage factory, two blacksmith-shops and one saw-mill.

"There was a mute by the name of Shoemaker, who was among the early settlers. He was a successful hunter, and shot a great many deer. My father made a business of dressing deer-skins for clothing. Many wore buckskin breeches. Skin vests were likewise often worn, generally with the hair on. My pants often got wet by running through the snow and water, and when dry, became brittle and broke off at the knees, leaving the lower half of my leg naked for some time before I got another pair. These buckskin pants were made to fit close to the skin, and as at that early day we wore no underclothes, it was very much like putting one's limbs into bags of snow on very cold winter mornings.

" Flocks of wild-turkeys used to come around a corn-rick that stood near the house, to peck off the grains. I devised a plan for catching them, which was as follows : I secreted myself in one end of the rick, with my handful of shelled corn, and held it out, expecting they would come along, when, in the attempt to take the grains from my palm, I intended to seize them by the neck with my other hand. But the birds were my superiors in sagacity, and always kept at a safe distance from me. We, however, caught a great many of them in turkey-pens.

" My father was a bee-hunter, and found a great many bee-trees. There were two methods of coursing them. One was from the wild flowers where they came to gather their stores ; the other was the dish of honey-comb, which was set out to attract them. The latter was generally used in the early


spring. It was more successful if the comb was burned a little.

" Our social evenings were often spent in the old plays of Sister Phoebe, ' Marching to Quebec,' Kilimakranky, ' Oats, peas, beans and barley grows,' Thus the farmer sows his seed,' It's raining, it's hailing, it's cold frosty weather,' and the like. Dancing was little practiced. Our school-books were Webster's Spelling Book (` Easy Standard of Pronunciation'), Pike's Arithmetic, Columbian Orator, American Preceptor, Primers, and the Bible and Testament. Our games of ball were bull-pen, or corner-ball, cat-ball and town-ball. We also had another game which was pretty generally practiced all over the country, which was called the game of " Baste."

[The game of "Baste" was played all through the West during the pioneer age. The bastes were two trees, or stumps, usually, and situated fifty to seventy-five yards apart. Two captains were appointed, who chose the boys off alternately, and the right to the first choice was determined thus: One of the captains, taking a ball-paddle, would spit on one side of it, after which he gave it a whirling toss in the air, when the other party called out " wet," or "dry." If the side having his call on it came up twice out of three times, he won ; if but once, his adversary won. The same method was used in choosing off for a game of ball, and afterward for the first inning, or paddle. The game of baste consisted in " daring," thus : Any one of the players would start out and advance as near the other baste as he chose, and when he got sufficiently near, one or more of the party thus dared would dart out and try to catch him before he got back to his baste. If caught, or tagged, he was taken, and afterward played with the other party. In turn, when the pursuers came too near the home-baste, the other party had the right to pursue them home and catch or tag them if they could. The game often became highly exciting. Girls often took part in the game of baste. The game was ended when either party took all the others prisoners. The tag was a simple touch, even with the finger. But in either case, if the pursuer caught his man, both were at liberty to walk leisurely back to baste unmolested. The adventurer was not home, after having made the sally, until he touched the baste; but the pursuers generally stopped within what they judged to be a safe distance. The game has long


since been abandoned. But in this, as in games at ball, at the word " books," the paddle dropped instantly, and all started for the school-house door.—ED.]

" The first wedding I ever attended was that of Mary Starr to John Courtright ; and the first funeral I can remember of being at was that of John Huff. This, I think, was in 1823. During the years 1823 and 1824 there was much sickness—a great many died of bilious fever. Dr. W. W. Tolbert was the physician of the settlement at that time.

"Of all the neighbors of my father, in 1812 and 1815, or about that time, or heads of families within the township, there are but two persons living now, in April, 1877—George Harmon, and George K. Stevenson, both of great age.

" I have lived to see the wilderness transformed into a populous and wealthy community, and to see the tax list multiplied many hundred times. Two full generations of people have passed away, and two new ones have taken their places. All the institutions, manners and customs of the early times have drifted back, and are nearly forgotten. All birds and beasts have turned to dust.



Christian Heyl emigrated from Germany in 1800, and settled first in Baltimore, Maryland. While there he was the companion and associate of the late Gotleib Steinman, of Lancaster. There they both learned the baking business. In 1807 Mr. Heyl came to Lancaster, Ohio. During his residence in Fairfield County he purchased, in connection with his brother Coonrod, a piece of land containing one-hundred and sixty acres, in the vicinity of the present Basil, in Liberty Township, where he opened a little farm and lived on it five years, after which he removed to Columbus in 1813. He named the following persons who were citizens of Lancaster at the time of his coming—other names he could not recall :

Christian and William King, Elenathan Schofield, Jonathan Lynch and brother, Sam'l Coates, Philemon and Jesse Beecher,


John Creed, Wm. Irvin, Geo. Sanderson, Robert F. Slaughter, Thomas and Timothy Sturgeon, Peter Reeber, Rev. John Wright, William Duffield, Charles Sherman, David Crocket, John Shur, Mr. Lewis, Mr. Mullenour, Rudolph Pitcher, David Reece and Mr. Cisney. Of all those just mentioned, Mr. Heyl is the only one living. He is a citizen of Columbus, and is ninety years old.

During his residence in Fairfield the Indians were about. He spoke of their coming into Lancaster with their handy-work to trade for goods and trinkets.

He mentioned his neighbors in the neighborhood of Basil, during his residence there, previous to 1813: Joseph and Sam'l Heistand, the Walterses, Mr. Saliday, John Zeigler, Nicholas Radibaugh, John Houser, Jacob Weaver.

When he landed at his place near Basil, it was all wild woods. He cleared off the ground and built a small hut of round logs, to live in. He next cleared and fenced a small field, and planted it with corn and " truck " (truck, in the vernacular of the pioneer age, meant all kinds of garden vegetables, including potatoes, turnips, and the like). He had two small glass windows of four 8-by-10 lights each, put into his cabin, which circumstance brought upon his family the reputation of being aristocrats. He remembered that the women sometimes placed their spinning-wheels up in the wide fireplaces, to secure the better light that came down the spacious chimney.

From his little farm, near Basil, he returned to Lancaster and remained awhile. When in 1813 he moved to Columbus, he loaded two six-horse wagons, partly with his household goods, and partly with flour. He went on foot himself, with his ax, and cut out a road some part of the way. There were few cabins between the two places. It took them three days to get through. The first house he occupied in Columbus was a rough log-cabin. In it he followed baking and tavern-keeping The first evening of his arrival there the supper was set on the lid of his dough-trough, rested on the heads of two upturned flour-barrels, and the participants sat upon flour-barrels.

He occupied the log-house as a tavern and bake-house two years, and then, in 1815, built the Franklin House on an adjoining lot, and moved into it, where he kept hotel for twenty-eight consecutive years. The location of the old Franklin


House. on High street, east side, a little south of the present Cotton Block, will be remembered by all who have been familiar with Columbus. In 1841 he traded the hotel for a farm on Alum Creek, and removed to it, where he continued to live twenty-one years, or until 1862, when he again returned to Columbus.

Mr. Heyl was a generous and kind man, and in trying to help others lost much of his property by going their security.

Mr. Heyl related an occurrence that took place when he was moving from Lancaster to Columbus, in 1813. They had arrived with the two six-horse wagons on the south vicinity of Columbus, where it became necessary to pass over,lands owned by one John McGowen. Mr. McGowen refused to allow the wagons to pass over his grounds. There seemed no other way to get the teams into the village, and a negotiation was entered into, which ended in Mr. Heyl agreeing to give McGowen a bottle of whisky for the privilege, and the teams passed over. On the following day the lord of the soil presented himself at the cabin of Mr. Heyl, with his half-gallon bottle, and got it filled.

In Mr. Heyl's parlor hung a photograph representing four generations in a group—himself; his oldest son, Lewis; his grandson, Henry; and great grandson, Reney.

He detailed the great squirrel-hunt of 1816, an account of which is given elsewhere in this volume, and in which he was a participant. He stated the number of scalps returned at 15,000, and thought the wager, to be paid for by the party having the fewest number, was a barrel of whisky. He gave the number of men engaged at two hundred. The Scioto was the dividing line; one hundred of the men taking the east, and the other hundred the west side. Columbus was the rendezvous. The hunt lasted but a single day. He stated the squirrels were so numerous that, in some places, a racket made by knocking on the fence, or otherwise, started them so that dozens were seen running up the same tree.

Mr. Heyl related an incident. Both himself and his brother Coonrad married into the Alspaugh family, who were early settlers near the rock-mill, Fairfield County, and where the descendants of the Alspaugh's still reside. He had gone with his wife to visit her people in that neighborhood, and while there word was brought to him that his brother had fallen


from the Court-house in Columbus, and received dangerous injury. They at once started on horseback. His oldest son, Lewis, was a baby. He held the baby in his arms, allowing his horse to follow at his pleasure that of his wife, who rode in the path before him.

When Mr. Heyl came to Columbus there were but fifteen families there, the heads of which he named as follows : John Carr, John Collet, Michael Patton, William McElvane, Benj. Thompson, John McGowen, Daniel Kutzer, Samuel Keys, George McCormic, George B. Harvey, Benjamin Johnson, Peter Putnam, John Putnam, Alexander Patton, and himself.

Wheat at that early day there sold for from fifty to seventy-five cents a bushel; corn twelve and a half cents; whisky sib dollars a barrel ; oats ten cents a bushel. He bought a cow for twenty dollars, and delivered two hundred bushels of oats in payment. This was in 1841, while he was living on his Alum Creek farm.

Mr. Heyl named his family still living. He had five sons, but no daughters. Lewis was the oldest. Lewis, John K. and Seorge, were residing in Philadelphia. William and Charles were in Columbus.

Christian Hyel is lingering on the verge of time. He has outlived his generation. He has lived through nearly three full generations of men. All he knew and associated with in Fairfield County and in Franklin County, sixty-five years ago, has faded out of sight. What he did is as nothing to the bustling throng that tread the earth ; all has been covered over by the debris of time. He resides with his son Charles, his companion having passed away some years ago. He is feeble, but his mind is clear.


Mr. See is a son of George See, who came to Fairfield County in 1805, and settled on the place now owned by George Huffman, adjoining the present See farm, in Berne Township. This farm he purchased of William Carpenter. It consisted of 160 acres. Mr. See has lived the past threescore years on the same spot. He was born in 1816. He remembers the sicklc-


mill and the flax-mill; and also of seeing the remnants of the Indian wigwams on the plat of Tarhe Town, where the railroad shops now stand. He spoke of the first school he attended. It was taught in a little log-building a short distance below the Prindle farm. The teacher at that time was Bartholomew Foley. Thomas Paden and Hocking H. Hunter subsequently taught in the same house, in about 1828. He named the following persons who were patrons of the school when he attended it: James Pierce, father of the late John Van Pierce; O. Lewis, David Reece, Isaac Kuntz, John Pane-baker, Jacob Iric, Simeon Bixler, Mr. Shellenbarger, father of Reuben Shellenbarger; Peter Tool, Henry Crawfus, William Jackson, father of 'Squire Thomas Jackson ; Thomas Mason and David Carpenter. William Jackson lived where Reuben Shellenbarger now lives. The first preacher he remembered hearing was the Rev. Samuel Carpenter, in the school-house below Prindle's.

The boys of the settlement wore tow and flax-linen in summer, and linsey in winter. The women wore linen dresses in summer, and in winter linsey and striped flannel. Their cloths were all home-made, and were colored vith bark and copperas, and sometimes with indigo. The boys got but one pair of shoes in the year; and sometimes went barefooted half the winter. He sometimes went to his partridge-traps through the snow with his feet tied up in flax-tow to keep them from freezing, for the reason that he had no shoes.

He said deer were so plenty that they could be seen every day. He had seen fourteen of them at one time within one hundred yards of his father's house. Any man who had a gun could go into the woods almost any day and shoot a deer. He had known instances where the dogs chased deer into the ponds, among the bushes, and kept them at bay until the men went in and killed them with clubs.

He related the killing of two bears, the manner in which it was done being quite primitive, and new to the present generation. The first one was driven under cover of the top of a large fallen oak, by dogs, which were holding it bay, when Mr. See's father and William Garvin came up. They climbed on the limbs above, where the bear was plainly in view below, and succeeded in knocking it in the head with a chopping-ax. It weighed three hundred pounds. The spot where this took


place was within one mile of the See house. The other one was killed by Mr. Duhma, with a handspike. The occurrence took place on the farm now owned by Daniel Akers. The bear had got into the hog-pen, with the intention, doubtless, of carrying off a shoat. Mr. Duhma, hearing the disturbance, came armed with a handspike, and, entering the pen, with one stroke broke the animal's back, after which he easily dispatched it. This one weighed four hundred pounds.

Barring the master out was practiced; and on one or two occasions they had rough times with their old Scotch teacher, who would not submit to their terms. Mr. See spoke of the manner of living of the early times. Sometimes breadstuffs could not be had in sufficient quantities, and they were obliged to pound corn in the hominy-block, sifting the finest of it out for meal, and boiling the coarser part for hominy. Boiled wheat was also a very common article of food. Wild-honey was abundant, and bee-trees were to be found in all parts of the country.

He related the following characteristic incident : David Reece lived then on what is now known as the Pardee farm. He had a young bearing orchard. On one occasion he surprised three half-grown chaps stealing apples. He asked them what they wanted them for. They replied that they wanted them for dumplings. He said, "Come along with me." He shut them into his loft over night, and until the afternoon of the following day, when he ordered the girls to make for each of them twelve large apple-dumplings, which he required them to eat, and then start for home.

[This story has been told me slightly different, by another, but the main points were true.—ED.]

At that time corn was a drug at 12 ½ cents per bushel, and wheat the same at 25 cents. Oats would bring from 8 to 10 cents. Mr. See said he had often sold partridge for ten cents a dozen. On one occasion he traded a mud-turtle to William Peck for a small glass salt-cellar. A man's wages was twenty-five cents a day in trade, except in the harvest-field, when fifty cents was paid in cash. Rye was a good article in trade. It was made into whisky at the little still-houses all over the country.


It was a common thing to work in the clearings at burn in g logs and brush until midnight, or later. They drank rye-coffee, sassafras, spice-wood and birch teas. A large proportion of the meat eaten was from the woods, such as deer-meat, bear-meat and wild-turkey; and, in winter, partridge.


Rachel Young was born in Huntingdon County, Pa., May 1st. 1784. In 1799, in company with her parents and three or four other families, she came to Fairfield County, Ohio, arriving there on New-Year's Day. They floated down the Ohio river on a flat-boat to the mouth of the Hocking. From there they ascended that stream in canoes to the falls, where Logan stands. There the canoes were unloaded and dragged over the falls, where they were re-loaded, and paddled up to the mouth of Rush Creek, the present site of Sugar Grove, where they were abandoned, and the goods and stores packed on horseback, the most of the company traveling on foot through the forest up Hocking to where Mr. Prindle now lives, two miles below Lancaster. From there they proceeded in the same manner to the neighborhood of Bremen, or rather the present site of Bremen, where they all settled, in the beginning of 1800. In their passage up the Hocking, obstructing logs were severed with a cross-cut saw, and removed from the stream to allow the canoes to pass. Some of the men had been out the previous spring and cleared off some ground, and planted corn and potatoes, and also put up some rude cabins.

The company numbered fifteen souls, including one child, whose name was Joseph Ashbaugh. The following are the names of the fifteen : Elizabeth Miller and her mother, Andrew Ashbaugh, Joseph Ashbaugh, Frederick Ashbaugh, Jos. Miller, John Ashbaugh, Sr., and wife, John Ashbaugh, Jr., and wife, three daughters of John Ashbaugh, Sr., Joseph Ashbaugh, the baby, and Rachel Miller, now Rachel Young.

Mrs. Young was married to Edward Young on the 2d of April, 1802, and remained in married life fifty-eight years ; and, on her ninety-third birth day, had been a widow seven


teen years. At that time she had six children living, viz. : three sons and three daughters. She became a member of the Presbyterian Church in 1820, and has lived a Christian woman and worthy pioneer mother. She was ninety-three years old on the 1st of May, 1877.

The men who came out the previous spring and made the preparations for emigrating were : Joseph Miller, and John and Joseph Ashbaugh. The spot where they made the first opening has since been known as the James Neely farm, now belonging to the estate of the late John C. Weaver.

The first school Mrs. Young remembered in the Bremen neighborhood was near William Black's present residence. This she thought was in 1803. The first preachers who held meetings in the settlement were Rev. Cradlebaugh, of the German Reform Church, and Rev. John Wright, Presbyterian. This was also about 1803.

On one occasion, when Mr. Young came to see her as a suitor, he shot a bear on his way. He sent some parties back to skin and dress Bruin, while he remained with the object that was the cause of his visit. On another occasion she went out on the hill to cut a rock, [a rock was a five-pronged switch formed into a kind of reel, upon which the hatcheled flax was wound preparatory to spinning—the best of the kind were found in the tops of dogwood saplings.—ED.] and while she was looking round for a good one, a very large bear came walking leisurely along in unpleasant proximity, but as he did not show any disposition to molest her, she concluded the best plan for her to adopt would be to not molest him, and so each party took the course that suited them best.

The first hog killed in the settlement was a small shoat, which made a part of her wedding-dinner. After the ceremony of the dinner, dancing was introduced, John Ashbaugh being the fiddler.

Mrs. Young spoke of a method of salting down pork at that early clay, which the writer remembers as having been practiced. She said coopers were at first not to be found, and the

settlers dug troughs from the trunks of large trees, and used them as meat-tubs. She remembered that at one time she had five wild-turkeys salted down in one of these troughs. She spoke of a turkey-pen they built near her house, in which she caught twenty-one turkeys within less than two weeks.


She and Catharine Ashbaugh were the ones that went in the pens to catch them.

She also spoke of another matter which perhaps few, even of the oldest inhabitants, have any recollection of, as it was not everywhere known. I allude to the art of manufacturing

fine linen from the fiber of wild-nettles. The wild-nettle grew in some sections in great abundance, and always on the low and richest soil. It was a weed that grew up from three to four feet high, and bore a remote resemblance to the bone-set, or ague-weed. Its fiber was as fine as the finest flax, and the nettle-weed was treated in the same way that flax was, by roting, breaking, scutching and spinning, with the exception that it was mowed down instead of being pulled up by the root, as flax was.

The nettle has nearly entirely disappeared from the country, and is seldom seen, and never, except in remote and wild spots. Few of the present living generation have ever seen it at all. A peculiarity of the nettle was that it had on its stem a prickly beard, that, upon touching with the hands or other parts of the body, inserted itself into the skin, producing a most intolerable itching and burning sensation scarcely to be endured; hence, everybody soon learned to go round the " nettlepatch."

Every family manufactured their own clothes. Hand-cards were used in preparing wool for spinning. The young people went to meeting barefooted; sometimes carried their shoes and stockings in their hands to near the meeting-house, and then sat down and put them on.

Mrs. Young was present at the first Fourth of July celebration held in Fairfield County, half a mile west of Lancaster, but did not remember the whisky-barrel and the fight, but she remembered that the wild meat was roasted before a big fire.

The first wedding in her neighborhood was that of James Wilson and Patsey Hammel. The first death was that of a Mr. Hamerly. The first birth in the new settlement was David Ashbaugh.

The writer was present at the celebration of Mrs. Young's ninety-third birthday, on the first day of May, 1877, at the residence of Jacob Moyer. She was in fine spirits, cheerful, and her memory very little impaired. There were present on


that occasion two sons and two daughters, fifteen grandchildren, and thirteen great-grandchildren of the venerable mother.


“My father, Dr. John M. Shawk, came from Lexington, Kentucky, to Lancaster, in 1801, and purchased from Ebenezer Zane the lot upon which I now live, on Main street. Lancaster was then principally a forest of trees and underbrush. He hired the father of Jacob Gaster, well known here, to clear off the ground and inclose it, and, then returned to Lexington. In 1806 he removed to the place, living first where the canal now is, and on the south side of the mouth of Main street. The same building was afterwards moved on rollers up to his lot on Main street, and is at present a part of the same buildings occupying the grounds. To move it to this spot, the trees and stumps had to be cut out of the way. I was six years old when my father came here, and have resided on the same spot ever since. The house my father first lived in—the one removed on rollers—was built by Dr. Irvin."

Dr. John M. Shawk was a practicing physician up to the time of his death, in 1846. His wife was Susanna Stoy. Dr. Stoy was distinguished for his art in curing rabies canina (hydrophobia), which art also descended to the Shawk family, through Susanna, and has been successfully practiced by the present Dr. Charles. Mrs. John Shawk was a highly educated lady, and possessing also a strong mind. She was a mother of the old type, of whom there are few left, and whose places will not be filled until another revolution in the human race takes place, and another era sets in. She died in 1863, at a very advanced age.

The following are some of Dr. Shawk's recollections of the early days of Lancaster. The first elections he remembers were held in the Court-house. He remembers when Governor Worthington made a speech in the Court-house yard when he was a candidate, and how the people cheered him because he was a favorite. This was about 1810. He remembered that Governor Worthington, assisted by Judge Abrams, surveyed


the lands lying south of Lancaster and extending down into Hocking County, or what is now Hocking County. Judge Abrams was a successful hunter. He (the Doctor) said he saw him bring a huge bear into Lancaster about the year 1810.

The Doctor spoke of the streets being full of stumps, and that Main street sometimes became so deep with mud that wagons stalled in it, and had to be pried out. On that account Wheeling street was the principal thoroughfare. Main street was at one time bridged with poles, which, in early times, were called corduroy bridges. There was a swale crossing Main street about where Shawk's alley is, extending up towards the Talmadge House. He had seen people watering their horses there; and there was a pond that sometimes became so deep that it would nearly, or quite swim horses. At that time, about 1806, there were not more than six or eight cabins on Wheeling street, and on Main not exceeding thirty.

The fights on muster and other public days were vivid in his recollection. He said that bears and deer often came into town. In 1817 he shot and killed a bear on Kuntz's hill. Wild-turkeys were seen in immense flocks, especially in the beach woods ; and they likewise often came into the village, which at that time was full of forest trees. A man by the name of John Rhoads killed a huge panther near Mr. Stukey's, below town. It measured seven feet from the tip of the tail to the point of the snout. The Indians came every fall from Sandusky, to hunt. He sometimes went to their camps and saw them beat their breasts and grunt their songs.


Catharine Rutter came with her late husband, Balser Rutter, from Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, in the year 1815, and settled in Pleasant Township, on the same place where, with her son, she still resides, at the age of 85 years. She is a remarkably active, social and intelligent old lady, and in the possession of all her faculties, scarcely perceptibly impaired. She has a good recollection of the state of the country at that


time, and of the way people lived, and of the incidents of the surrounding settlement.

She named the following as her principal neighbors at the time of her settlement there, in 1815 : Thomas Anderson, Henry Hockman, John Burton, Tewalt Maclin, Jacob Maclin, ,Mr. Harmon, Daniel May, Henry Culp, Thomas and David Ewing, James Duncan, Christian Neibling, John Feemen, Benjamin Feemen.

She spoke of the new and wild state of the country, and of the manners and customs of the people, and how almost imperceptibly everything had changed, until not even a vistige of the good old times was to be seen. She lamented the departure of the better days, because she believed people were far happier, better contented, and more social and kind to one another then than they are now. They had fewer wants than at present, but enjoyed life far better. They worked hard, and sometimes lived hard, but were never set iously pinched, because at that time the new farms yielded plenty. When they first arrived, in the fall of the year, they had nothing prepared for the winter, and their neighbors brought them supplies. One man brought a full sled-load of cabbage-heads.

They spun and wove their own clothing, at first carding the wool on hand-cards. Her oldest daughter, Susanna, spun in one summer fifty pounds of wool, besides helping with other work. Susanna is now Mrs. Henry Bell, of Lancaster.

They attended church at the Court-house, in Lancaster, to hear Revs. John Wright and Stake preach. The first wedding she was at in the settlement was that of Nellie May to William Creighton. This was in 1816 or 1817. The first funeral she remembered was that of a Mr. Bope—first name not remembered—probably in 1817. He was uncle to Philip Bope, now of Lancaster.

Mrs. Rutter was a weaver, and, besides weaving for her own family, wove also for some of her neighbors. She had her spinning-wheels and reel set away as relics of a departed age, and to be viewed by coming generations as curious implements belonging to a forgotten era, and, perhaps, at a time when not a living soul should know anything of their use.

She recurred to the house-raisings, log-rollings, quiltings, sewings and pumpkin-butter boilings, and other gatherings peculiar to the times, and thought they were the fast enjoya-


ble occasions of her whole life, but occasions never again to be enjoyed. And as we talked on of the log-cabin and pioneer age, we fell into a sympathetic relation that recalled happy memories, and joys, and loves, and loved ones departed, that filled the heart with thrilling comforts worth more than all the gold of earth, for the writer came up from the beginning of the century through all the experiences of frontier life.


Andrew Hunter was the son of John Hunter, who emigrated from Virginia in company with Maurice Reece, Jesse Reece, Solomon Reece and James Hunter, in the year 1800, and settled one mile and a half west of Lancaster, on the same spot of ground where Andrew now lives. Mr. Hunter was born there in 1806, and has spent his life on the same farm.

The company came down the Ohio to the mouth of Hocking on a flat-boat, then up Hocking in canoes to the falls. There their little stock of goods was unloaded, and a portion of them placed on " drags" (two poles framed together, the slim ends forming the shafts), and by horses pulled up to the destination west of Lancaster; the men, women and children walking through the wilderness. Some of their goods were left at a cabin near the falls, and were not brought away for several months.

James Hunter was a brother of John Hunter, and uncle of Andrew. He once taught school in a cabin that stood on the site of Steven Smith's blacksmith-shop, on Columbus street, Lancaster. He also taught west of Lancaster. Mr. Hunter said he went to school to his uncle one day, when he thinks he was about eight years old. It was the first time he had ever been in a school-house, and he kept his hat on. The scholars " giggled," and at last the teacher laughed, and then he got mad and gathered up the wooden poker from the chimney-corner, to make battle, and the master had to quiet him by telling him they were laughing because he had his hat on in school. But he would not go back again to that school.


At Mr. Hunter's first recollection, the following were his father's principal neighbors: Nathaniel Wilson, Sr., Jesse Spurgeon, Joseph Work, John Searl, Maurice Reece, Joseph Hunter, John Green, Mr. Vandemark, and old grandfather Hunter.

Mr. Hunter referred to the great Indian scare, elsewhere referred to in this volumne. Nathaniel Wilson's house, as being the best one in the neighborhood, was used for the fort, where the women and children were taken for protection. A neighbor (I think he said Jesse Spurgeon) took him and some other little fellows in charge to convey them to the fort, and was himself so frightened that he half dragged them along by the hands, telling them all the time that the Indians were coming. Mr. Wilson and another man rode to Lancaster to get the news about the Indians, soon returning to tell the people that it was a false alarm, and they might all go home.

Mr. Hunter remembered of riding on bags of corn to Hunter's mill when he was a very small boy. He also said the boys used to go in companies down to the mills on Kinnikinnick, and all wait till they got their grists, and then return in a crowd, because they were afraid of the Indians. It did not occur to them that a couple of warriors could easily capture a regiment of them.

He related that a man by the name of Converse lived where Robinson Peters now lives, three-quarters of a mile west of Lancaster, and that the settlers at a previous day met there to the number of eighteen men, for the purpose of making, defensive preparations against the Indians, of whom they were afraid. They had whisky, got drunk, and had bloody fights among themselves. This had been told to him, and he thought the occurrence took place about 1801.

Some of the early purchasers of land in the settlement were about to forfeit their purchases, and their lands were to be resold at Chillicothe. Ebenezer Zane came into the neighborhood and told the men to raise all the money they possibly could, which they did, and he took it and went to the land-office and succeeded in saving most of the purchases.

Mr. Hunter also related an amusing story of a fox-hunt, which he said he had heard a man tell. It occurred less than forty years ago, as he thought. The fox was so closely pressed by the hounds, that it took refuge in a meeting-house where


the congregation was worshiping at the time, the door being open. The people were thrown into the wildest confusion, for no sooner had poor Reynard entered, and sought concealment under the benches, than in poured the hounds, followed by old Father Grabill, the great fox-chaser, who was the leader of the band, and so intent on securing his prey that not even the sanctity of the worshiping assembly stood in his way. The fox was taken, and the gravity of the congregation left to find its equilibrium.


Mrs. Sherrick is a daughter of the late Daniel Arnold, of Lancaster, and granddaughter of George Arnold, who emigrated from Pennsylvania and settled on Fetter's Run, in Pleasant Township, in this county, in the year 1801. Mrs. Sherrick was born in 1798, and has resided all her life in Fairfield County. Her grandfather, George Arnold, was the father of Daniel, Henry, Jacob and George Arnold, late of Pleasant Township. She preserves a good recollection of the state of the country in its pioneer age. The first school she remembers was taught by a Mr. Curtis, an emphatic and stern old Scotchman, who sometimes got drunk.

The place where they lived was what is still known as the Arnold farm, north of the Infirmary, and four miles north of Lancaster. She said the Indians came often to their cabin for something to eat. Her mother always set the table and gave them what she had, to keep them in a good humor. One of their peculiarities was, they would not allow her to cut the bread, but would themselves take the loaf and pass it round, each one cutting off his own slice. If they had anything left that was not eaten, they would tuck it under their blankets and take it away for their squaws and pappooses. She said they were always afraid of offending the Indians, and therefore made it a point to do all they could to keep them in a good humor.

During the first years, grain and other feed was often scarce in the spring and summer, and they spanceled their horses


by tying the fore-feet with ropes or hickory bark, and turned them out to eat grass, or to browse on the twigs of bushes when grass was scarce, usually putting a bell on one of their necks so they could be easily found. She stated, if any one took very sick in the night, or any accident occurred of a serious nature, a horn was blown, and the nearest neighbors went to see what was the matter.

At her first recollection there were but few cabins, and they were scattered through the forest, and blazes were made on the trees from house to house, which were followed until plain paths were worn. Her father, Daniel Arnold, was the first tanner; and she thought that when he opened his tan-yard there was no other nearer than Zanesville, on the Muskingum.

The first death she remembered that took place after they came there, was that of Katy Ditto, in 1806, she thought, for she was eight years old at the time. The Dittos lived on the site of the present Infirmary. The next death in the settlement was grandfather Fetters, who was the father of Jacob, Coonrod and Philip Fetters, early settlers on Fetter's Run, and fathers of the present Fetters men of the same neighborhood. They had to cut a road through bushes to get the wagon to the grave. This was in 1808, or about that time.

Grandfather Arnold built a mill on Fetter's Run, a few rods below the present crossing of the poor-house road. That was a great jubilee for the settlement, for previously they had to carry their grists all the way to Zanesville. (A grist is a sack of grain.) There was also a saw-mill built in connection with it, which was the first in the settlement. They have both long since disappeared.

The first preachers were Revs. Bennedum and Heistand, United Brethren; and Revs. Bright, Charles Waddle, Cloud, Asa Shin, James Quinn and Jacob Young, Methodists. Meetings were held in the cabins of the settlers, and in the log school-houses.

The young people had their plays and usual sports of the pioneer age, but dancing was not allowed, on account of the religious conscientious scruples of parents. Every one had enough to do to occupy all the time; and when the youngsters had a little time for play, it was by special permission. Mrs. Sherrick, when a girl, could spin her two dozen (cuts) of flax


in a day, and sometimes thirty cuts of wool. At first the rolls were carded with hand-cards, and afterwards on carding-machines. She said her mother, in trying to show the girls how to use the hand-cards, did it so quick they could not learn.

They made all their clothing. Coffee was fifty cents a pound, and they put a couple of dozen grains with the burnt rye to give it a coffee flavor. Tea was $1.50 and $2.00 a pound. The substitute for it was spice-wood and sasafrass tea.

Ginsang was very plenty, and they dug the roots and dried them, and sold them by the pound, mostly for cash. The price was not remembered.


I am the widow and second wife of the late Judge William McClung, and daughter of William Trimble, who was one of the first settlers of Fairfield County. I am above eighty years of age, and have lived here to see the wilderness become a garden.

My father, William Trimble, came from Cumberland County, Maryland, in the beginning of the present century, and settled five miles north-east of the present city of Lancaster, where he continued to live until the time of his death, which, as I think now, was in 1829.

Among his neighbors at the time of my earliest recollection were: William Jones, Mr. Hammel, Frederick Harmon, the Roughs, the Macklins, the Hites, the Browns, and Thomas Anderson.

The first school I attended was half a mile from my father's cabin. I was then five years old. The teacher then was a Mr. Watsbaugh, and after him Mr. Irvin. The school-house was built of round logs, covered with clapboards, and had oiled-paper windows, and a stick and mud chimney. The benches were rough slabs, with wooden legs. The fireplace was just the width of the house.

The first place I attended meeting was a little south of the


present turnpike-road, leading from Lancaster to Rushville. It was called " The Tent, " because the first meetings there were held in a tent. The place is still spoken of as "The Tent." The denomination that worshiped there was the Associate Reform Presbyterian. The society was organized about the year 1803, by Missionaries from Kentucky. The church has maintained its organization up to the present time, and is now known as the United Presbyterian Church. The first established pastor was the Rev. Mr. Craig. He was succeeded by Rev. Benjamin Waddle, and after him Rev. Ebenezer Calderhead, who remained twenty-one years. The next pastor was Rev. Buchanan. This was in 1859 and 1860. The present pastor is Rev. Mr. Boyd.

There was a Presbyterian Church about the same time two miles south of West Rushville. We also attended church there. At this place the Rev. John Wright, of Lancaster, preached atm very early day. It was a hewed-log house, two stories high. The logs of this old church were many years ago taken down and removed to West Rushville, where they were re-erected on Main street, and the building is at this time being used as a mechanic's-shop.

The first death I remember as happening in my father's settlement was that of Maria Hite, who, I think, was about nine years old.

The first wedding I ever attended was that of Polly Rugh to Charles Baker. This was about the year 1814.

Upon my father's first settlement there, the whole country was in a complete state of nature. The little cabins of the settlers were scattered through the woods, and the paths between them were made by following the blazes on trees. We could hear the wolves howling almost every day and night in the year, and often in very close proximity to our cabin. It was difficult for a long time to keep sheep, for the wolves would take them sometimes very near the house. Wild-turkeys swarmed all through the woods. They were shot, and caught in pens. I saw my father shoot one while he stood in his door.

The family wear of the early settlers was entirely homemade. The women spun and wove flax and tow-linen, and Linsey and flannels, and made up the garments.. _The coloring was done with the bark from trees, such as oak, maple,


hickory and walnut. Copperas (sulphate of iron) put into the "ooze" of these barks made a variety of colors, ranging from yellow to red and black, or brown.

The first mills were at Zanesville and Chillicothe, and the men had to pack their grain all the way to these places on horseback, and along the paths through the woods, to get it ground into meal or flour ; pack-saddles were used. The supply of salt was brought from the works, on the Muskingum, and sometimes from the Scioto.

There was a camp-meeting established north of Rushville, at a very early day, and continued annually for many years. It was known as Stevenson's camp-ground. It was said to have been the first camp-meeting in Ohio. It was a Methodist camp meeting, and was attended by the Finleys, Jacob Young, James Quinn, Charles Waddle. Asa Shin, and other pioneer Methodist preachers. It is still spoken of through the settlements as the " Camp-Ground. " There is a grave-yard there now. It is believed these camp-meetings were established about 1806, or 1808.

My father was a 'Squire, and the first couple he was called on to marry was Edward Murphy and Sally Murphy, who were cousins ; but as my father had been newly-elected, they were compelled to wait a few days until his commission arrived.

There was a man by the name of Mike Rough living in the settlement. A few men who had been on an unsuccessful hunt, disguished themselves as Indians and went to his house in a menacing manner. In terrible alarm, he took his family and fled, spreading the word that the Indians were upon them, and for a couple of days the greatest consternation prevailed all over the country. The people in all the settlements forted themselves, and the fighting men prepared for the defense, but when the Indians failed to come, they went to Rough's cabin-and found that the pseudo Indians had stripped it of all its little store of eatables, and disappeared, without doing any other mischief.

I love to think of those good old log-cabin times, when we were all friendly and contented, and all willing to do all we could to help each other. I love to think of the social " 0 sister Phoebe," and " We're boldly marching to Quebec," and of the many ways we had to enjoy ourselves. But alas! my


youthful companions are all gone, and all the bright, joyful scenes of youth have vanished, and now my eyes are turned toward my eternal home in heaven, where I expect to rejoin all I have loved below.


Isaac, William and Thomas Ijams, brothers, came from Frederick County, Maryland, and settled immediately on the west of the present village of West Rushville, among the earliest settlers of Fairfield County, where they all three died at somewhat advanced ages. Isaac was the father of Isaac, John and William Ijams; William was father of Richard and Howard; and Thomas was the father of John, Joseph and Frederick. All of these eight sons have been known as citizens and business men in and about Rushville ; but they are all gone—most of them have deceased.

William Wiseman was also a Frederick County man, and came out with the Ijams brothers. He settled south and adjoining West Rushville, where he died at an advanced age. Mr. Wiseman acquired considerable wealth, and dying childless, willed it principally to the Catholic Church at Somerset, Perry County, of which church he was a member,

John J. Jackson, also a Marylander, came with the same company, and lived in the same neighborhood. His wife was an Ijams.

Father Wilson was a very early settler in the neighborhood of West Rushville. He entered a large tract of land lying north-west of the present site of the village. This constituted the Wilson settlement. His sons were William, Thomas, Joseph, Isaac and David, all of whom were formerly well known. The Wilsons were a stalwart class of men, of the true pioneer type. David is the only survivor of them all, and is residing in Illinois.

Jesse, Mordecai, Daniel and Edward Stevenson, brothers, were among the first settlers. They entered land and settled


north of Rushville, in Richland Township. They were from Maryland, and are all dead.

Arthur and Walter Teal came from Maryland, in about 1799, and settled in the same community. Edward Teal, a brother, went a little further west, and located two and a half miles east of the present Lancaster, on what is known as the old Rushville road. These brothers have passed away.

Edward Murphy came about the same time, and settled one mile west of Rushville, on the place now owned by his son, Theodore Murphy. The Murphys were Virginians.

Mrs. Vanzant said that when her mother first came to West Rushville, in 1823, there were but three houses in the place, and that there were a few houses on the east side. Nathaniel Wait, step-father of Mrs. Vanzant, was the first physician in West Rushville.

Emanuel Ruffner was a very early settler. He located north of the Wilson settlement, and immediately joining. Joseph Ruffner was his son, and died a few years since at .a considerable age. Daniel Keller and Christian Baker married two of the daughters of Emanuel Ruffner.

The descendants of all these early settlers above-mentioned, more or less, are still citizens of the county.

William Coulson, of Rushville, was an early citizen, and died there recently at the great age of about ninety. His career there as a merchant and dealer in tobacco, as also that of John, Joseph and William Ijams, in West Rushville, will long be remembered. They are all dead, and the immense production of tobacco on Rush Creek, of former years, has almost entirely ceased, and not even a vestige of the trade is to be seen.


My father, Thomas Barr, with four of his brothers, came from Chester County, Pennsylvania, in about the year 1800, and settled in Amanda Township. The brothers of my father were—Samuel, James, William and John. They all located in the same neighborhood, about two miles west of the present


village of Amanda. They have all five deceased. At the time of their arrival there were a few cabins on the Mudy Prairie, and perhaps two or three in the vicinity of Royalton, or Toby Town, as the locality was then called, it being a small village of the Wyandot and Delaware Indians, governed by a chief whose name was Toby. There were small mills erected soon after the settlements began, at the forks of Hocking (rock-mill), and at Kinnikinnick, to which the settlers carried their corn to be ground. There was also a horse-mill near where Tarleton now stands, owned by one Dilsaver, where grists were ground. I can remember when there were blazed roads through the woods. In emigrating west, the company came in wagons over Zane's trace, from Wheeling to the Hocking, at a time when there was no cabin between Zanesville and Lancaster, and on the site of Lancaster not more than two cabins stood.

The first school of the neighborhood was on my father's land. ft was a little log-house, with oiled-paper windows. The first man who taught in it was Thomas Magee. The next that taught after him was James Hunter. Thomas Moore and John Young also kept school in the same house.

The first meeting-house was built by the Lutherans in our neighborhood, and the first preachers were Revs. Leist and King. The Methodists and Presbyterians came in some time afterwards, the latter forming their first society where Amanda now is. The Rev. Mr. Jones was the first Presbyterian preacher there that I remember.

My grandfather, Andrew Barr, as also my grandmother, died about the year 1812 or 1813.

The first death that occurred in the settlement, that I can recall, was a neighbor of my father's, by the name of Christy. He was familiarly called " Father Christy."

When we came to have wheat for market, we hauled it to Circleville and traded it off for twenty-five cents a bushel. At a very early day I hauled corn to Circleville and traded it at sixteen cents a bushel. My father, with others of the neighbors, went to Zanesville for their salt, packing in out on horseback.

We had the usual log-rollings, corn-huskings, etc., of the frontier settlements at that time. Also the old-fashioned plays and dances of the young people.

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My father, George Kester, was one of the first settlers at Yankee Town, now Claypool's neighborhood, in Greenfield Township. He first settled on the Richard Hooker- place. This was in 1799. Subsequently he bought land in Amanda Township, the same on which I now reside, three miles east of the village of Royalton, where he died in April, 1852, at the age of 72 years. I am his only surviving son. I was born in Fairfield County, and have lived on the same place all my life.

There was a little log school-house on Kemp's land, near our place. It was the first place I went to school. The first teacher I remember there was James Granthum. It was in 1852. The logs of that little school-house were removed and rebuilt on the Jesse Spurgeon place, two miles west of Lancaster, near the Cedar Hill pike, where they still stand. The next school I attended was on the Hutchison farm. A teacher there that I remember, was John Cunningham. The logs of that house are now used as a stable near the pike, three miles east of Royalton.

The first religious meetings I remember were held in a log school-house in Royalton, by the Lutherans. The Methodists had a society there. They sometimes held their meetings in barns. The United Brethren preached at the houses of George Grow and Jacob Bullenbaus. This was from 1828 to 1832.

The first funeral that took place in the Yankee Town settlement, was in 1801 or 1802 ; I have forgotten the man's name. He died on Black Lick, in what is now Licking County. He came out with the company that settled at the Claypool place, or was a relative, and they brought his remains down there for interment. There were no roads, and the body was brought by two horses, in the following manner: Two long poles were cut. A wagon-cover was made fast to them, after the manner of a hammock ; upon this the body was laid, and the poles suspended on the backs of the horses, which were prepared with pack-saddles, one horse before, and the other in the


rear. The distance was several miles. There was neither planks nor cabinet-makers in the settlement, and a coffin was improvised with slabs split from large trees. The slabs were set in the dug grave, the body lowered, and a wide slab laid for the lid, upon which the clay was filled in. This statement I received from my parents.

The first wedding I remember was that of my uncle, Jacob Harrison, to Julia Ann Hanaway. She died six weeks afterwards.

Wolves swarmed all over the country at the beginning of the settlements, and for a number of years subsequently.

For some time after my father built his cabin, there was no door-shutter, and to close the opening, called the door, a wagon-cover was suspended in it. Wolves howled around daily. When sheep were first introduced, they were herded and watched through the day, and shut up in a strong log-pen at night, to preserve them from the jaws of the wolves. The first years in the Yankee Town settlement the ague attacked almost everybody, and that was the principal reason why my father moved further west.

The following were the principal first settlers of that section of what is now Greenfield Township: Father McFarland, who was the father of the late Walter McFarland; Mr. Cherry, and others I cannot now name. Our neighbors in Amanda Township, at my first recollection, were Tunis Newkirk, father of Jephthah Newkirk; Grandfather Kemp, Henry Kemp, Theodore Williamson, Henry Ingman, Henry Kiger, William Kiger, Richard Herrod, Widow Osborn, who was familiarly known as Granny Osborn. (She was one of the very first settlers.)

Deer and wild-turkeys were abundant ; and occasionally a bear. Wild-cats were quite plenty; hawks were very troublesome in the destruction of chickens.

Our first grinding was done at the rock-mills. But in the very early times the men went all the way to Chillicothe to mill, packing their grists on horseback. Salt was first brought from Zanesville, on horseback. It cost from $3 to $5 for fifty pounds, which was called a bushel.

First roads were made through the woods by following the blazed trees from cabin to cabin. Dancing was practiced to


some extent by the young people; and we played the old plays of "Sister Phcebe," and kindred plays.

It was no uncommon thing for the young people to go to church, or "meeting," as it was called then, barefooted; and older people too, in some instances. The reason for this was the scarcity of shoes, as well as the inability on the part of the people to always command the means of paying for them.

Our manner of living was in accordance with the general pioneer life of the times. The old time hominy-block was found in every cabin, and spinning-wheels, and reels, and the corn-grater. Our clothing was mostly home-made. We had to work hard, and had very little time for play. The wants of the people were fewer than at present, and more easily met for our real requirements were natural, and we were satisfied.


My father, Isaac Griffith, emigrated from Lancaster County Pennsylvania, in 1818, and settled in Amanda Township, on the place known as the Leathers Tavern, adjoining the presen \tillage of Amanda on the south-east corner. At that time the site of Amanda, and all the surrounding country, was in a wil condition. There were a few small settlements in differen parts of the township, mostly living in rude log-cabins, an small farms were opened; but there were neither good roa nor markets.

The best house in the community was the Leathers house It was of hewed logs, and two stories high. Mr. Leathers settled there at a very early day, and had kept a tavern many years. At the time of our coming there was neither a frame hor a brick building in the township. My father kept tavern in the Leathers House about twenty-five years, or until hi death, which occurred in 1855. The house burnt down in 1858 or 1859.

Our neighbors at the time of coming there, in 1818, were Abram Kestler, Abram Myres, John Welsheimer, Frederi


Welsheimer, David Leathers, Samuel Leathers, Mr. Gardner, William Hamilton, Michael Shellenbarger, Martin Landis, Judge Vanmeter, John Leist, Samuel Kirkwood, John Swoyer, Daniel Conrad, John Conrad, Michael Nigh, Samuel Nigh and Daniel Peters.

The first school I went to was in the Landis neighborhood. The first teacher was Moses Stutson, and afterwards Solomon Grover. I was a very small boy, but I walked over the road twice every day. The house was made of round logs, and one log was cut out for a window.

The first church was built on Swoyer's land, in about 1828. It was a brick house.

I have known oats to be sold for six and one-fourth cents per bushel, after we came here, though the price was usually about twelve and a half cents, but seldom in cash. There was very little cash in the country. Everything was done by trading. Wheat was sold at twenty-five cents per bushel. A day's labor was twenty-five cents in trade, except in harvest-time, when a half-ollar was paid, for the most part in money. The farmers usually contrived some means of getting money to pay the harvest-hands. I know it was much harder to pay the taxes then than now, although I believe it would not be out of the way to say that eight dollars of taxes then is represented by two hundred dollars now. Butter could sometimes be sold then for six and one-fourth cents. Our post-office was at Lancaster. There was one mail each way in a week. We brought our salt from Zanesville, and paid as high as five dollars a bushel for it.

The town of Amanda was first laid off by Samuel Kestler ; the year I do not remember.


I am a son of Maurice Reece, who emigrated from Pennsylvania, with others, in the year 1799. My father tented first, after his arrival, on the site where the mill now stands, known as Latta's mill, one mile and a half west of Lancaster.


He only remained there a short time. He purchased the land known for many years as the Robinson Peters place, and put up a cabin. That was the Reece neighborhood. Thomas Whyley now lives on the farm, and is the owner. After the death of my mother, my father came and lived with me until his death, in about 1844. I have two brothers—Maurice and Isaac Reece—still residents of the same settlement.

My father's first neighbors were : Nathaniel Wilson, Sr., Joseph Hunter, John and Allen Green, William and Thomas Green, Jesse Spurgeon, Peter W oodring, Adam Bear, Baker Dutton, and a Mr. Reed.

There were three early mills I remember—the rock-mill, and Ream's and Shellenbarger's mills. Mr. Ingman built a horse-mill west of Lancaster that was very useful to the neighborhood. There was also a horse-mill built by Samuel. Harper, two miles east of Amanda.

There were two brothers, Robert and Joseph Young, who settled four miles east of Amanda, at a very early day.

James Hunter taught school in our settlement as early as 1801, and continued to teach more or less for several years afterward. Our first school-house stood on what was called Spurgeon's Knob, a short distance north of Latta's mill.

In the course of a few years, but previous to 1810, little still-houses sprang up all over the country, where whisky and peach-brandy were made. Peach crops soon became very abundant, because the peach-tree was the growth of but two or three years; and in those early years of the country the peach crop seldom failed. They were hauled in wagon-loads to the still-houses, for distillation. They were, from their very abundance, of little use in any other way, beyond what families could consume.

Wolves were incessantly howling around us. Deer and wild-turkeys were plenty everywhere, and in the few first years of the settlements, bears were quite numerous. My father was a bold hunter. He killed, within a given time, ten bears, and over one hundred deer, besides a great many wolves. He shot one elk, but it got away. There was a premium paid by the State on wolf-scalps.

A common day's work was twenty-five cents; but afterward fifty cents was paid for harvest-hands. It was considered a


big day's work to reap and bind forty dozen sheaves of wheat. It required good reapers and strong men to do it.

We had to make blazes on the trees so that we could find the way from one cabin to another, though the distance sometimes was but short. The woods were very dense. But this was only necessary in the beginning of the settlements, because the roads soon became worn.

The first wedding I saw in the new settlement was Sally Reece, a sister of my father, to Larken _____, and the first funeral I can remember to have witnessed was that of Nancy Hunter.

It happened sometimes that breadstuffs became very scarce ; sometimes they could not be had at all for several weeks, which was caused by the streams failing. In these cases the people grated meal from the half-ripe corn, and lived on vegetables and wild-meat.

I can remember when going to and from rock-mill that I saw flocks of deer skipping about in every direction, with their white tails turned over their backs. They would feed near the road, seemingly little afraid of man ; but afterward, when they had been often shot at, they became more shy.

I can remember that my mother did sewing for a neighbor to pay for a fat side of bacon; and I can remember when my brother Maurice and myself went into the woods and gathered armfuls of wild-onions and carried them home. Cooked up with bacon, they were much used. Their season was in May and early June. My mother was a weaver, and besides doing the weaving for her own family, wove more or less for the neighbors.

Throughout the settlements there was little difference observed between Sundays and other days ; at least by many. It was no unusual thing to see men come to meeting with their guns on their shoulders; and the crack of rifles through the woods was as familiar on Sundays as any other day in the week.

Within a few years after the settlements began, the hogs, from straying off into the woods, became wild, so that large flocks of them existed. In this state of things many were in the habit of procuring their pork from the woods. When a fat hog was wanted, men took their dogs and rifles and went


in search of a drove of wild hogs; and, having shot one, or half a dozen, they were brought in on sleds and dressed.

My father made as many as six barrels of peach-brandy in a season, and that did not exhaust the crop. Many rotted on the ground, and quantities were given away to families who had no peach orchards.

During the very earliest times it was a very common practice for the young people to go to meeting barefooted. Shoes sometimes could not be had; and many of the people were unable to procure them for the want of means.

Our living was in accordance with frontier life generally. Wild-meats, such as venison, turkey and bear-meat, were plenty, and cost nothing but a little powder and lead and time, which was not as valuable as it has since come to be. Cornbread in the form of pone, johnnycake, dodger, hoe-cake and ash-cake were the common bread. It was more difficult then to pay little sums of taxes than it is now to pay twenty times as much,



A number of colored persons came to Lancaster at an early day. I have been able, through Elijah Lewis (colored) and old resident white citizens, to secure the following names, though generally not the dates of their coming. Many of the following, who have lived in Lancaster and died, will be well remembered:

Elijah Lewis, who is still living, came from Virginia and settled in Lancaster in 1823. He had one brother by the name of Stephen, and one sister, familiarly known as " Aunt Disa," who died a few years since at a very advanced age. Stephen was the husband of, Aunt Judy Lewis, still living. Elijah does not know his age, but those who knew him in 1823 say he looked as old then as he does now. Scipio Smith was a Virginian, and came at a very early day. He was a firmer, and will long be remembered on account of his wooden-leg and his jet-black face. Reuben Banks, now the oldest colored man in Lancaster, has been in the place since 1814. He is quite feeble. Daniel Lewis, father of Elijah, came about the same time. Nelson Smith, the popular barber for nearly fifty years, is still living. His two sons, Egbert and brother, succeed him in business.

Then follow others who have deceased: Father Jenkins, Aunty Jenkins. "Black Ike" and Basil Green lived in the Philamon Beecher family.. "Yellow Jim" lived with Parson Wright. Charley Graves, Frank Anderson, Bill Davis, Richard Marcus, old Father Watson (still living at a venerable age), John Mathews and Mack Turner, the blacksmith. John Ampy Jones, the popular well-digger, who lost his life by the damps in a well a few years ago on the Dunbar farm, will always be favorably remembered. Of other early settlers of the county, of the African race, I have not the means of knowing.



The Lancaster Gas-Light and Coke Company was incorporated in the early part of the year 1856, and its works were speedily completed by the energetic contractor, Coverdale. The site of the works is on the west bank of the canal, and opposite the mouth of Jail street. The capital stock of the company is $25,000. The works were completed, and the city was first lit up with gas on the Fourth of July, 1856.

The shares of the stock have always been at and over pare in the market, but holders generally unwilling to sell. Its dividends have usually been from eight to ten per cent. The company have in progress of construction a new gasometer of fifty feet in diameter. Until within the last year the price of gas was $3.75 per thousand feet. The present price, first of September, 1877, is $3.00 per thousand feet.


The old " Lancaster Ohio Bank " was chartered by the Legislature of Ohio, and went into operation about the year 1814, 1815 or 1816, with a capital stock of $250,000. Its charter and early books have not been easily come at. The exact date, however, of its first opening, is not specially important to history, since its affairs have all been closed thirty-five years ago, but especially as we have been able to give a correct history of the working of the institution to its final settling up in 1842 and 1843.

Judge Schofield was its first President, during two or three years, and then John Creed until its close. Michael Garaghty was elected Cashier, and held the position through its entire course of active operations, which was about thirty years. This bank was well and successfully conducted to the last, and acquired a popularity not exceeded by any other bank in the State. It was made the disbursing agent of the State in the payment of the Public Works, especially in the


building of the Ohio Canal. Millions of dollars of the public money passed through its hands.

But at last, during the disastrous financial crisis which began in 1837 and continued up to 1842, the bank suspended specie payment and went into assignment, appointing Hocking H. Hunter, Joseph Stukey and Frederick A. Foster as its assignees. This course was taken for the purpose of a final closing up of the affairs of the bank, which was completed by the redemption of all its outstanding circulation and the payment of all its liabilities at par. Jacob Green was made the redeeming agent of the still remnant of the outstanding circulation. The Lancaster Ohio Bank was the agent in the payment of the soldiers of the war of 1812, which fixes the time of its organization about, or a little before the close of that war.

Following the close of this bank there was an interregnum of about three years, during which Lancaster had no bank. During that time, Messrs. Boving and Graua sold exchanges and received deposits, very much to the accommodation of the business men of the place.

The Hocking Valley Branch of the State Bank of Ohio (successor of the Lancastor Ohio Bank), was organized in February, 1847, with a capital stock of $100,000; Darius Talmadge, President ; Charles F. Garaghty, Cashier; and commenced a general banking business, which was continued up to the early part of the year 1865. At this time it was decided to change to a bank under the provisions of the act of Congress providing for National Banks. For this purpose, D. Talmadge, J. R. Mumaugh and M. Effinger assumed all the stock of the State branch for the purpose of closing up its affairs, which was successfully accomplished. This was during the general suspension of specie payment that began with the breaking out of the Southern rebellion in 1861.

During the existence of the Hocking Valley Branch of the State Bank of Ohio, the following were its officers : Darius Talmadge, President from 1847 to 1865, or until its close ; Charles F. Garaghty, Cashier from 1847 to 1848, one year; William Slade, Cashier from 1848 to 1850, two years; M. A. Daugherty, Cashier from 1850 to 1855, five years; C. F. Garaghty, from 1855 to 1859, four years; H. V. Weakley from 1859 to 1865, six years.


The Hocking Valley National Bank went into operation in May, 1865, with Darius Talmadge for President, and Henry V. Weakley Cashier. In 1866, J. W. Feringer was elected Cashier, and still holds the place in August, 1877. In 1869, G. A. Mithoff was chosen President, at which time a reorganization took place, and the capital stock was reduced from $100,000 to $80,000. G. A. Mithoff is acting President in August, 1877.


The Fairfield County Savings Bank, with a capital of $25,000, was organized as early as 1850 or 1851, by some of the soundest and best business men of the city of Lancaster, and a number of the most substantial farmers of the county. Jacob Green was its first President, and held the position down to the time of his death. Charles F. Garaghty was its first Cashier, and was succeeded after a few years by M. Worthington. After the death of Mr. Green, John C. Weaver was chosen President, who continued to act up to its close. This house was popular and useful. Upon the expiration of its charter, after having had the largest patronage of any bank of the city, it wound up, meeting all its liabilities promptly.


This institution was first instituted on the first of January, 1854, by John D. Martin, P. B. Ewing and Samuel Stambaugh, as the Exchange Bank. Six months afterwards Mr. Stambaugh died, and the bank was continued by the surviving partners, up to January, 1864, when it was changed into the First National Bank of Lancaster, Ohio, with John D. Martin as President, and Charles F. Garaghty as Cashier. Two years afterwards Mr. Garaghty was succeeded by Geo. W. Beck, who is still holding the place. Both as a private bank, and as a National Bank, this institution has withstood all the financial troubles of the country, successfully sustaining soundness, though several times assailed during the panics between 1854 and 1877. Its capital stock is $60,000. It maintains also a perpetual surplus fund of $12,000.



The Commercial Bank of Lancaster was established in December, 1872, by A. CochraD, as a private bank. In June, 1873, S. J. Wright became a partner by the purchase of one-half of the stock. In February, 1874, Mr. Wright bought the interest of Mr. Cochran, and banked alone until the 14th of September of the same year, when his bank was merged into the Fairfield County Bank, with a paid up capital of $50,000. Wesley Peters was chosen President, and S. J. Wright, Cashier. This banking-house is owned by a number of Fairfield's most solid capitalists, and has the confidence and patronage of its full share of the community.


This was a private bank, and was organized in the fall of 1867, with a capital of about $50,000. Its President was Chas. F. Garaghty, and Cashier, William Noble. It did a general banking business until the beginning of November, 1873, when, under the cramping state of the money affairs of that year, it made an assignment of its affairs to John R. Mumaugh and William Noble, and paid, during the first eighteen months, a dividend of 40 per cent., with possibly a small fraction yet to divide.

The living banks of Lancaster are owned by safe men, and are entitled to the public confidence.


Two railroads, completed, pass through Fairfield County—the Cincinnati and Muskingum Valley Road, from west to east, and the Columbus and Hocking Valley Road, from north to south. There is also a third road in an unfinished state, passing through the eastern portion of the county, making Bremen, Rushville and Pleasantville points.

The Cincinnati and Muskingum Valley Road was first incorporated as the " Cincinnati, Wilmington and—Zanesville Railroad, " on the 4th of February, 1851, and was open to Lan-


caster, and cars running, in August, 1853. In July, 1856, the road was completed through to Zanesville.

In this road, Fairfield County took $250,000 worth of stock, under a special act of the Legislature authorizing the Commissioners to subscribe stock. For the payment of the stock, county bonds were issued at seven per cent. interest, which were negotiated in the market by the company. The bonds were subsequently redeemed by the county, but the road was sold for its mortgage bonds, and the entire amount of Fair-field's bonds was sunk. After the sale of the road, the title was changed to the "Cincinnati and Muskingum Valley Railroad. "


This road was first chartered as the " Mineral Railroad Company, " in 1864. In June, 1867, the title was changed to the " Columbus and Hocking Valley Railroad, " by the Court of Common Pleas of Franklin County. This road was built without county subscriptions. The city of Lancaster, however, issued $20,000 of seven per cent. bonds to the company, to enable them to purchase the right-of-way through the south border of the city. This was an act on the part of the Council unauthorized by law, and was warmly opposed by a majority of the tax-payers. But at last acquiescence was made, and the bonds were redeemed.

The road was speedily finished and cars run into Lancaster from Columbus. In 1868, the road was completed through to Athens-the whole distance being seventy-four miles, and trains running.



Following is a list of all the Governors of Ohio, from 1789

to 1876, with the times of their service :

Arthur St. Clair, Territorial, from 1789 to 1803.

Edward Tiffin, 1803 to 1807.

Thomas Kirker, 1807 to 1808.

Samuel Huntington, 1808 to 1810.

Return J. Meigs, 1810 to 1814.

Thomas Worthington, 1814 to 1818.

Ethan Allen Brown, 1818 to 1822.

Jeremiah Morrow, 1822 to 1826.

Allen Trimble, 1826 to 1830.

Duncan McArthur, 1830 to 1832.

Robert Lucas, 1832 to 1836.

Joseph Vance, 1836 to 1838.

Wilson Shannon, 1838 to 1840.

Thomas Corwin, 1840 to 1842.

Wilson Shannon, 1842 to 1844.

Mordecai Bartley, 1844 to 1846.

William Bebb, 1846 to 1848.

Seabury Ford, 1848 to 1850.

Reuben Wood, 1850 to 1853.

William Medill, 1854 to 1856.

Salmon Portland Chase, 1856 to 1860.

William Dennison, 1860 to 1862.

David Tod, 1862 to 1864.

John Brough (died), 1864 to 1865.

Charles Anderson, 186.5 to 1866.

Jacob D. Cox, 1866 to 1868.

Rutherford B. Hayes, 1868 to 1872.

Edward F. Noyes, 1872 to 1874.

William Allen, 1874 to 1876.

Rutherford B. Hayes, from January, 1876, until chosen President, when Lieutenant-Governor Thomas L. Young assumed the executive office, and is now acting Governor, in August, 1877.

In addition to these names, there were four others that filled up intervals, thus : During the absence of Governor St. Clair,


William H. Harrison served as acting Governor from 1798 to 1799, part of a year. Othniel Looker was acting Governor from April to December, 1814. Allen Trimble was acting Governor from January, 1822, to December of the same year ; and Thomas Bartley from April to December, 1844.

Ohio has, therefore, had thirty Governors, including Arthur St. Clair, who was appointed Territorial Governor by President Washington, in 1789; and including the four who filled up intervals, thirty-four in all.

Of these thirty-four Governors, only eight are living in August, 1877, viz.: William Denison, Edward F. Noyes, Jacob D. Cox, Thomas Bartley, Wilson Shannon, William Allen, Charles Anderson and Rutherford B. Hayes.


The following shows the time of the inauguration of the respective Presidents, and the terms of office, from Washington down to 1877. The whole number of Presidents who have been primarily elected is sixteen. The number of Vice-Presidents who have served as Presidents in filling out terms, is three, thus making nineteen Presidents from 1789 up to 1877:

George Washington was inaugurated in April, 1789, and March 4th, 1793, two terms.

John Adams, March 4th, 1797, one term.

Thomas Jefferson, March 4th, 1801, and 1805, two terms.

James Madison, March 4th, 1809, and 1813, two terms.

James Monroe, March 4th, 1817, and 1821, two terms.

John Quincy Adams, March 4th, 1825, one term.

Andrew Jackson, March 4th, 1829, and 1833, two terms.

Martin Van Buren, March 4th, 1837, one term.

William Henry Harrison, March 4th, 1841. Died of pneumonia, April 4th, 1841, thirty-one days after his inauguration. John Tyler, Vice-President, filled out the term.

James K. Polk, March 4th, 1845, one term.

Zachariah Taylor, March 4th, 1849. Died of cholera, July 9th, 1850; serving one year and four months. The term was filled out by his Vice-President, Millard Fillmore.


Franklin Pierce, March 4th, 1853, one term.

James Buchanan, March 4th, 1857, one term.

Abraham Lincoln, March 4th, 1861, and 1865. Assassinated by J. Wilks Booth, at Ford's Theater, Washington, D. C., between nine and ten o'clock on the night of April 14th, 1865. The term was filled out by his Vice-President, Andrew Johnson.

Ulysses S. Grant, March 4th, 1869, and 1873, two terms.

Rutherford B. Hayes, March 4th, 1877. On account of difficulties in the returns of the Boards of Louisiana, Florida and South Carolina, the election as between Mr. Hayes and Sam'l J. Tilden could not be easily determined. A special act was thereupon passed by Congress, creating a Commission of fifteen members, who " counted " Mr. Hayes in.

Of the nineteen Presidents here named, the following are living, in August, 1877: Ulysses S. Grant, Rutherford B. Hayes. All the others have passed away.



The following tragic story is here rendered current with its narration in General Sanderson's address, delivered before the Lancaster Literary Association in March, 1844, and mainly from recollection, as I have not been able to put my hands on the document at this late day, nearly thirty-three years afterward. And here I promise that the story is not introduced as reliable history. Of the accuracy of some of the main points, I have no doubt; at least so far as the scouts and the rescue are concerned. All, however, is traditional rather than historical. The story of the scouts and the rescue were handed down from the first settlers, and were well founded in belief, The absence of written history has been construed as casting some doubt on the reliability of the tradition, yet there is enough to justify the belief, and we render the story. The coloring and poetry are the allowable privileges of romancers :

The scene lies somewhere between 1780 and 1799, and at a time when the Wyandot Indians held undisputed possession of the Hocking Valley. Two white scouts, whose names are

- 19 -


speedily bring to the spot a score or more of warriors, when his fleetness of foot would be his only chance of safety ; and besides, he knew such a catastrophe could not fail of discovering his retreat, greatly imperiling the chances of escape. With the quickness and agility of a tiger he dropped his gun, and springing forward, grasped the throat of each in his powerful hands, rushed into the stream but a few feet to the right, and plunged their heads beneath the water, which was considerably swollen by recent rains, where he intended to keep them until all danger of making a noise was forever at an end with both of them. One of them was old, the other young and athletic. The latter resisted heroically, and finally, getting her head above water, and her mouth cleared, she addressed Wetzel in English. This caused him to desist, and to question her, when, to his great astonishment, she informed him that she was a white girl, and a captive. Time was precious, and ascertaining that the old squaw was quite dead, the scout and the rescued girl started for Mount Pleasant. They had no more than reached the base of the mount, when, from back in the direction they had come, came the most deafening yells, as if from five hundred throats, which told them that the body of the drowned squaw had been found, as well as the trail of the white man's foot. There was nothing now left for them but to gain the summit as soon as possible, and prepare for the defense, for they knew the savages in great numbers would soon be upon them. They were not long in gaining the top, where they rejoined Maywood, and a brief council was held, as to the course of defense to be pursued.

There were not more than two or three points of access, and to these the attention of the besieged was entirely directed. Night was fast coming on, and the scouts were told by the girl, who was able to converse freely with them, that there was little probability that the Indians would hazard the attempt to gain the top of the mount in the dark. Their means of defense consisted of two rifles, and a supply of ammunition sufficient to hold out for several days. Their greatest source of anxiety arose from the fact of their scanty supply of provisions, and the utter impossibility of procuring water, unless the passage to the spring and back could be accomplished in the night. But that feat seemed too full of peril to be thought of, for they knew


that every possible point of escape from the mount would be carefully guarded by dark assassins.

It was not long after Wetzel and the girl gained the summit of Mount Pleasant, when they were surrounded on all sides by the howling savages, who sent up at them the most demoniac yells of defiance, which continued until darkness came on, when all was profoundly silent. In the meantime the points of access were closely sentineled; but throughout the tedious and sleepless night, no signs of attempt to scale the rocky fortress were indicated.

The night passed away as the earth rolled round to meet the God of Day, who was again to light up the world with his burning face in the East. Wetzel, Maywood and the girl, felt no want of slumber throughout the terrible vigil. Their nerves were wrought up to too great a degree of tension to permit nature to assert her demands, for well they knew that death, perhaps by terrible torture, would be their certain doom if they should fall into the hands of their merciless foes. They knew also that with the return of day the attack would be vigorously renewed. Their supply of water was nearly out, and their little stock of provisions was diminishing, and starvation and famishing seemed imminent, unless they should go down and surrender themselves to a fate far more to be feared than starvation and the agonies of consuming thirst. They resolved, therefore, to withstand the siege to the last, rather than to submit themselves to the fiendish revenge of the relentless savages. To still further add to the terror of the scouts, the discovery was made towards morning that the girl had disappeared in the darkness—perhaps gone back to the camp to report their helplessness, and to aid in their ultimate capture.

They were greatly surprised however, as the morning advanced, that there were no indications of Indians below. Not even the sound of a voice could be heard far or near. In the meantime the watch was kept up, lest some secret and silent approach was being made. Still the silence that reigned all around remained unbroken, a circumstance that further contributed to increase their apprehensions.

Near the eastern part of the " Standing Stone " (the name given to Mount Pleasant by the Indians) was a steep and rugged ascent, over points of jagged rocks, down which the eye peered more than a hundred feet through the Thick over-


hanging foliage, while the sentinel above could keep himself concealed from even the sharpest Indian eye. It was perhaps ten o'clock, or about that hour, when Wetzel, from his concealment, caught sight of a stalwart Wyandot silently and cautiously creeping upon a footing far down below. He at last gained his point, and paused, with rifle in hand, as he seemed to listen, and perhaps calculated his plans for a further ascent. It was but a moment. There was a curl of smoke, a sharp crack of a rifle, and the brawny savage sprang into the air but to be precipitated headlong on the rocks far beneath, a lifeless corpse. Almost instantly another took his place, seeming to come from a crevice on the left. Another curl of smoke ; another sharp crack, and another tumble into the abyss as suddenly followed. A third phantom curl, and three bronzed bodies lay a crushed mass of flesh and bones at the foot of Mount Pleasant. This third tragedy was instantly followed by the wildest tumult from every point of the surrounding thickets below. Seemingly, a thousand guttural throats were opened to give vent to the most hellish rage. The clamor lasted several minutes, when all again became quiet, and the remainder of the day passed with the usual stillness of the forest solitudes.

With the accession of the darkness of the second night, Wetzel and Maywood seated themselves together on a pile of rocks, for the purpose of holding a counsel as to what was to be done. Their position was at a point just above where the three Indians had a few hours previously met so unexpectedly their doom. They were contemplating the chances of possible escape in the face of such imminent peril. It was to be a daring and perilous descent; but they were beginning to feel the pinchings of hunger and thirst; nevertheless, they were both powerful men, and very fleet on foot, and they hoped that if once they got safely to the table-land below, unperceived by their foes, to be able to effect their escape. Profound darkness and silence surrounded. Suddenly, and without the least premonitory sound whatever, a gentle hand was placed on Wetzel's shoulder, at the same time that a canteen filled with fresh water was placed on his knee, accompanied by a few small pieces of jerked venison ; and then, in a whisper, a female voice said, " Be on this spot to-morrow night, and await my coming." They began to interrogate the mys-


terious visitant, or would have done so, but their words were unanswered, and they began to grope around, but soon found they were alone—the presence had glided away as noiselessly as it came. The effect on their spirits was nevertheless assuring, though from whence the phantom came, or what its portent, was all mystery. Their sinking courage was raised a little; but what could it all mean?

That night they slept by turns, and with rising hopes, and nothing occurred to cause the least alarm. The next day passed very much as the preceding one had done, with the exception that all was silent around the mountain. Various questions were considered and dismissed in turn. Had the Indians abandoned the siege, under the belief that mysterious spirits were aiding the spies by shooting from the recesses of the rocks; for the occurrences of the previous day were as mysterious to the scouts as to the Indians themselves. On the other hand, had the besiegers settled down on the plan of simply guarding the passes until their prisoners, impelled by starvation, should come down, or ended their lives by slow death. And thus passed the second day.

The third night covered the mountain with the usual sombre shades and quiet, and the scouts took their seats on the rocks where the strange visitor found them the night before, resolved to await patiently what might be in store for them, for that some mysterious agency was at work in their behalf they could no longer doubt. Less than one hour elapsed, when a dark shadow noiselessly glided up to the place where they were seated, depositing at their feet a package, accompanied with the whispered words, " Put on these clothes instantly, and be prepared to follow me." Within less than five minutes, apparently two full-robed Wyandot warriors were following their strange guide across the top of the mount towards its northern margin, with cat-like steps. Hand-in-hand the three figures entered a secret passage beneath the dense laurel bushes with which the rocks were overgrown. So narrow and steep in its descent was this fissure, that they were compelled to creep, rather than walk, the guide in advance, and all shrouded in Egyptian darkness. Not a sound was uttered; scarcely a breath could be heard as they slowly descended the narrow defile. At length, and after the lapse of fifteen or twenty minutes, the three forms emerged into


the open space at the northern base of the mount, and as noiselessly glided down the slope of some forty or fifty feet. They were now under the cover of the dense thicket of undergrowth, and at least a hundred yards away from the point of immediate danger. A brief whispered council was now held, when the trio started on a circuitous route of more than two miles, and at about eleven o'clock entered Tarhe Town, easily passing the pickets with the pass-word.

The Indians were all slumbering, and, after a little perambulating through the dark camp, the south line was passed in safety, and the fugitives were making swift, flight down the Hocking, and before daylight were far beyond immediate danger. In the meanwhile, the body of the Wyandot warriors were closely environing Mount Pleasant.

The girl's story was briefly as follows : She had been captured by the Indians near Marietta, about three years before, when she was about thirteen years of age. During the two days and nights of the siege of Mount Pleasant, she had mingled as freely with the savages as before, representing to them that she had escaped from the scout at the Cold Spring, while he was in the act of drowning the old squaw. The rifle with which she picked off the three Indians who were in the act of attempting to gain the summit, she had abstracted from the camp while disguised as a warrior. The two suits of Indian garb she procured by stealth. The secret passage down the north side of the mount she had discovered while pretending to assist in the siege.

History, or rather traditional history, has it, that this girl subsequently married and became the mother of a family, and lived to a good old age.

Many will remember the thrilling little story of "Forest Rose," which made its appearance in this county something over twenty years ago, in pamphlet form, and which was so generally read. Perhaps no novel, or romance, of its class, ever attracted more attention, or was more widely circulated. It is still in the market, and new editions are being called for. The Mount Pleasant scouts and the rescue at the Cold Spring was the text of Forest Rose. It was written by Emerson Bennet, then of Cincinnati, but now of Philadelphia. The author of this volume having made the acquaintance of Mr. Bennet, while a resident of Cincinnati, called his atten-


tion to the address of General Sanderson in 1844, and at his request sent him a copy, which was unearthed after several weeks' search, and hence "Forest Rose." This was about the year 1849 or 1850.


The following prophetic venture, and its literal fulfillment, will exhibit pretty correctly the onward course of things in the Western country within the last fifty years. But not of the Western country alone—of the world.

In the winter of 1827, the compiler of this volume was the Secretary of a debating school in one of the Western counties of Ohio. We held our meetings in the little brick schoolhouse of the village. The building stood a little out to one side, and near the Methodist Meeting-house.

The railroad idea was just beginning to incubate in the East, and the heresy had got on the wings of the winds—merest inklings of it, and had been wafted to the brains of even some chimerists of the "Far-West." A Yankee had been through the country exhibiting a miniature locomotive on wires stretched across the room, and charging a quarter for the sight. The thing was pronounced a Yankee trick by the conservative element of the community. Three-fourths of the people were conservative then; in fact, radicalism scarcely dared show its face.

We had a Captain Brown among us. He was voted a visionist—a castle-builder. It has since appeared that he was one who let his mind run off in all directions ; a man who did not believe that things were finished, or that the acme of knowledge and the ultimatum of invention were reached.

At one of the meetings he made a speech—a railroad speech. He said the time was coming, and not far off, when railroads would be laid all over the West, and that people would yet travel fifteen miles an hour by steam. He said there would some day be a railroad from Cleveland to Cincinnati, and it would not pass far from that spot.


The meeting was largely attended that night, including ladies and many of the older and staid citizens.

A couple of days subsequently I received the following note, signed by a dozen of the solid men of the neighborhood, with a request that it should be read at the next debating school :

" You are welcome to the use of the school-house to debate all proper questions, but such things as railroads are impossibilities, and are impious, and will not be allowed. "

I read the note, and the railroad idea was squelched. Captain Brown did not live to see his prophesy fulfilled, but the railroad station now is within three hundred yards of where the school-house was then.


As before stated, a few gaps in the succession of county officers have occurred, which, from the irregularity and imperfection of records, I have found it impossible to supply. This is specially true with reference to Judges of the Court between 1812 and 1820. Should any one ever find it necessary to know what years Judges Grimkey or Swan were on the bench (which is scarcely probable), the matter can be determined by reference to early legislation, or election returns at the State Auditor's office.


To the aged citizens of Fairfield County; to the middle-aged; and to the young, I address some closing thoughts and reflections. We are approaching the point now where, as authors sometimes say, we must part. But you and I, dear reader, will not part. You have kept my company in my pilgrimage back through the decades of years, to where this now fertile and rich valley and its adjacent country was, to use an expression more familar to the ear than comprehended by the mind, a howling wilderness where "nothing dwelt but beasts of prey, or men as fierce and wild as they." Together we have stood mentally in the wilds of the unbroken forests of


the Hocking Valley, and on Mount Pleasant's lofty summit, and listened to the discordant yells of the untutored savage, the screaming panther, the howling wolf, the barking fox, and the doleful hooting of the big owl, before the first dawnings of civilization shed their cheering rays over scenes that "long in darkness lay." But we stood on the boundaries of a barren waste of desert; a desert into which no Anglo-Saxon eye ever peered—the desert of the past unknown and unnumbered years, for there was nothing to mark the drifting centuries. The untaught children of the forest put up no monu-ments—left no chronicles—nothing to tell whence they came or how long they inhabited the land. The few vague traditions they were found to possess pointed to nothing—nothing the trained mind could take hold of to link with the far-back. All, to the coming white race, was only darkness—oblivion. Who lived here a thousand years ago? What could the eye have seen? The question can never be answered.

Dimly we have contemplated the youth, John Kieth, trading with the Wyandots at the foot of Mount Pleasant, one hundred and fourteen years ago.' We imagine him in the act of exchanging trinkets with the swarthy denizens of the forest for their peltries and furs. And then we have seen him parting with his employer, as the latter left to return to Fort Pitt to exchange his skins for a fresh stock of goods, and then return and send the youth, Kieth, back to South Carolina under Indian escort. And we have seen the young man's hopes all blasted by being compelled to accept adoption into the Indian life, or die; the remnant of goods confiscated by the savages, and then the breaking up of the camp, and the departure, when Mount Pleasant and all the valley became for the time a solitude. Whether the trader ever returned, or whether he subsequently learned the future career of John Kieth, we can never be permitted to know. The curtain drops.

Further on we have found the Hocking Valley teeming with savages, for the Wyandots were a cruel and bloodthirsty tribe. We mentally stand upon Mount Pleasant (then the Standing Stone) and in imagination watch the maneuvering about Camp Tarhe Town in the distance, while the smoke from the bark-covered wigwams curls up through the plumb-bushes and rests quiescently among the tree-tops. Here and


there the mind takes in the conception of strolling squads of warriors skulking through the forests, followed by their shaggy spaniels or insignificant fistes, and anon a line of riders coursing along in single file, now and then coming into view as they pass the open space, occasionally screaming out their thrilling war-whoop. Meanwhile, the squaws lounge about the tents, or busy themselves with the drudgery. But as yet the voice of the white man has not come to these solitudes. We are obliged to keep ourselves concealed and our voices silent, for our discovery would be our doom, because there are no strong arms nor humane beings within hundreds of miles who could save us from a terrible fate.

But at last the scouts appear. They are sent up from the settlements at Marietta and the mouth of Hocking to reconnoiter the Indian camps. Maywood and Wetzel are on Mount Pleasant, peering out towards Tarhe Town, cautiously. We feel a little more secure. And then we think of the little town nine miles west, controlled and governed by Toby, who, because he is an inferior chief, we feel less afraid of him or his band. We see Maywood' cautiously creeping round the point of Cold Spring hill with his canteens filled with fresh water; the sudden meeting of the two squaws; the struggle in the water; the flight to Mount Pleasant; the floating corpse of the drowned squaw ; the savage yell of the warriors; the siege; the escape in the night; the rescued girl is safe, and we again drop the curtain.

The treaty of Greenville in 1795 has opened the way for the white man to show himself in the Hocking Valley, for with all the rude uncultured nature of the Wyandots and Delawares, they respected their contracts, and kept them, generally, in good faith, especially the better or controlling portion of them. I think it due to the Indian tribes to say, that in their intercourse with the settlers of the North American Continent, they have seldom, or never, been the first to break treaties once entered into.

We have seen Zane's trace successfully opened from Wheeling to Limestone, in the fall of 1797 ; but as yet the solitude of the forest reigns, for silence closed in as Zane and his company of choppers passed on to the west. But at last the sound of the woodman's ax is heard, locally, just over Hocking on the margin of the prairie. Joseph Hunter has wended his


way from Kentucky over Zane's trace, and is felling the trees and chopping away the brush preparatory to building his little cabin. But with the exception of his wife, and two or three small children, not another human being of his race breathes in the forests between the Muskingum and Scioto, a space of fifty-six miles. Mr. Hunter's family are alone in the wilderness, their only companions a dog or two, and a few other domestic animals. This was in the month of April, 1798.

In the following month we have witnessed the arrival of several emigrant wagons over the eastern end of the trace. Among these families were the Wilsons, the Greens, the McMullens, the Coopers, the Shffers, and a few others. In the fall of the same year, a number of other families have arrived and pitched their tents in various localities. Then in the spring of 1799 we have seen the tide of emigration coming in from both directions in considerable force, beginning settlements at Yankee Town, forks of Hocking, Toby Town, Muddy Prairie, Clear Creek, along down the Hocking, on Rush Creek, Pleasant Run, Fetters' Run, Ewing's Run, Baldwin's Run and in Liberty. And now the forests were resonant with the sound of the woodman's ax, the tinkling of the cow-bells, the sharp crack of the hunter's rifle, and the emigrant's song—life and activity springing up all over the beautiful valley and its ad-jacent'hills and vales, where for countless ages wild nature reigned supreme and undefaced, save by the tomahawk of the untamed savage.

In the fall of the year 1800 we have seen the survey and first sale of lots and location of some of the principal streets of what is the present city of Lancaster. We have seen the first settlers chopping down the superincumbent trees, and constructing out of their trunks the first rude log-huts, and the mechanics going to work at their respective trades; and we have carefully observed the growth of the little log-cabin " New Lancaster," up to the handsome and populous city of Lancaster of 1876. We have been present in imagination at the first elections ; opening and conduct of the first Courts. In the same way we have attended the early class-meetings at the cabin of Edward Teal, at Beal's Hill, three miles out on Zane's trace ; the coming of Rev. John Wright, in 1801, and the beginning of Presbyterianism. Later, Revs. Wise and Stake, and the organization of German Reform and Lutheran Socie-


ties, followed by other Protestant Societies. The Catholics also started nearly with our first acquaintance. We have marked the beginning of elementary schools, and mechanic arts, and trades, and the professions, and contemplated the active workers.

But, alas ! where are these early acquaintances of ours to-day ? The very last man and woman who did the active work of Lancaster seventy-six years ago have passed out of sight ! A few of our early acquaintances remain, standing with bending forms and silvered heads just in front of the exit gates of mortal life. Among these we enumerate Flora King, Frederick A. Foster, Dr. Charles Shawk, John T. Brazee, Frederick Schffer, Father Rhoads, and a few others a little farther back on the highway.

In retrospecting, we contemplate John Creed and Michael Garaghty, President and Cashier of the first bank of Lancaster, the " Lancaster Ohio Bank, " both of whom have long since passed away ; and Darius Talmadge, one of Lancaster's most enterprising citizens during more than thirty years. We recall his memory as a successful and extensive stage proprietor, also a public-spirited citizen, whose place will not soon be filled. It would be difficult, nor would space permit us to record the names of all the men and women who have filled. useful positions in Lancaster, in the various departments of its industries and prosperities, and then stepped off the stage. The cold chiseled marble and sand-stone tell us where their forms, no longer seen, were laid. In passing through the cemeteries we read the names, Dr. McNeal, Dr. John Shawk, Samuel Effinger, Samuel F. McCracken, John Latta, James Rice, Gotlieb Steinman, Geo. Boerstler, John B. Reed, Amos Hunter, William Bodenheimer, Henry Arnold, Daniel Arnold, George Ring, Samuel Carpenter, Robert O. Claspill, Robert R. Claspill, with nearly all their wives. And so we might extend the list of the honored dead of Lancaster to many hundreds. But they have all fallen asleep, and others are filling ,their places. The young of forty years ago are growing grey, who in their turn will pass off the boards as the stream of time flows on.

In every locality of the county we have noted the formation of first settlements, from 1799, and watched their progress on up. We have known most of the first settlers, and where


they built their cabins. There is not one of them alive to-day, and there is very little they did that can be seen. About all we know of them is that they were here, and are gone. If we should visit the cemeteries of the county we could read many of their epitaphs; but we could not recall their persons.

We remember the first formation of Fairfield County on the 9th of December, 1800, when it took in four or five times its present area—when Newark and Somerset were both in Fairfield County. And as the years passed by in the ceaseless movement of the panorama of time, we have seen the townships of the present Fairfield take form, and the outlines of the county established by the formation of Licking, Perry, Hocking and Pickaway counties, at periods between 1807 and 1817. We have seen the villages of the county spring up one after another, and have watched their growth and prosperity, and have formed the acquaintance of many of their business men. We have contemplated the humble beginnings of religious societies worshiping in little dimly-lighted log-cabins; and the embryo schools; the little mills that ground the first corn and wheat; and we have seen not only the cabins and all their fixtures pass out of existence forever, but the people that made them are mostly gone too from sight. In imagination we have been in company with the early pioneers and marked their struggles in the wilderness, their humble, patient and enduring lives, and how they inculcated religion, and morals, and honesty, and good manners. But that was a long time age. The skip of time has fixed the two epochs, then and now, entirely out of sight of each other. We can see nothing at all of the pioneer age except in fancy. More than two full generations of our race intervene.

We have seen the financial status of the large county of Fairfield in 1806, and that its public taxation amounted to a little less than $2,000. Seventy years afterwards, on one-fourth of the territory, the list is swelled to $250,000 annually. Then labor was twenty-five cents a day; now a dollar is not enough for the exigencies of the times. Then the wants of the people were few, in conformity to the condition of the new country ; now they are boundless. Our real wants are still few, but our pampered and imaginary ones know no limits. The efforts to gratify them keep three-fourths of thepopulation in debt. The income of three-fourths of popu-


lations of all the States of the Union is less to-day than the absolute requirements of the times, made so by the artificial and irrational life of the age. And the future, which it is not our province to comment on, does Dot promise an improvement.

In the log-cabin era the people had time to talk to each other ; time to help each other ; time to visit and nurse the sick, and to bury the dead without a dollar's cost; time to walk a mile to help lift up the cow that was down with the hollow-horn ; and time to help pull the grey mare out of the well, or to hunt a neighbor's cow that was lost. Now, you could scarcely find a friend in all your circle of acquaintance that would stop one minute to help you in any exigency, Everything has to be paid for. If your wife or child dies, you can't make a respectable funeral for less than from fifty to a hundred dollars, whether you have five dollars in the world or not. The way things are now, no one has the courage to beard public opinion, and therefore fall they victims before it. Only last evening I met, separately, two old acquaintances on the streets of Columbus. They seemed glad to meet me; but the most brief compliments and inquiries passed, when their impatience appeared—something ahead demanded them. But there is no remedy, and complaints are follies.

As time has sped, together you and I, in fancy, have watched the gradual transformation of the wilderness we entered seventy-eight years ago, on the Hockhocking, into the garden. The Indians, and the wild animals, and the log-huts, and the pole-bridges, and the marshes, and the people we knew have all drifted away. The people have grown grey and died, and the domestic animals have turned to dust, with many of their generations. What can we say ? Have the lessons of life made us better men and women ? Has the world of men grown better? The world is wiser. Is it better?

No, dear reader, you and I will not part. Death will separate us; but if we have lived pure and good lives here, we shall meet in a purer and better and deathless world. And when the humble compiler of these pages has passed out of sight, its paragraphs will recall to your mind our journey together over a transit of three-fourths of a century of the most important era of earth's history.