TOWNSHIP HISTORIES,

CHAPTER I.

TOWN OF UPPER SANDUSKY-CRANE TOWNSHIP.

LOCATION-REFERENCE TO PRECEDING CHAPTERS-ORIGINAL PLAN OF THE

Town AS SURVEYED-ITS STREETS-LOTS-POINTS OF INTEREST IN THE INDIAN TOWN OF UPPER SANDUSKY-ITS FIRST WHITE RESIDENTS-MADE THE COUNTY SEAT-THE RESIDENTS OF 1845-EARLY FESTIVITIES-COL. McCUTCHEN'S PEN PICTURE or THE TOWN IN 1846-POPULATION AT DIFFERENT PERIODS-GRADUAL PROGRESS TO DATE-REMINISCENCES OF EARLY INHABITANTS--CORPORATE HISTORY-BANKS AND BANKERS-MANUFACTURING INTERESTS-SECRET ASSOCIATIONS, ETC.-CHURCH ORGANIZATIONS-WYANDOT COUNTY 131BLE SOCIETY-WYANDOT SABBATH SCHOOL UNION-OAK HILL CEMETERY-EARLY SCHOOL TEACHERS-PRESENT SCHOOLS

UPPER SANDUSKY, a town which has an altitude of 287 feet above the surface of Lake Erie, and which for the past thirty-nine years has been known as the seat of justice of Wyandot County, is pleasantly located on the west or left bank of the historic Sandusky. Its wide, well shaded avenues, laid out in the true direction of the cardinal points of the compass, are graced by many handsome public buildings, churches and private residences, and its inhabitants, about 4,000 in number, are apparently in the full enjoyment of an enviable degree of comfort and prosperity.

Respecting its early history, we will state here, parenthetically, that throughout all of the chapters of Part III of this work, frequent and pertinent allusions will be found, especially in Chapters III to XI inclusive. We have there shown how and When the lands upon which it is built came into the possession of the Wyandot Indians. That in later years it was the grand rallying point of the hostile Northwestern tribes during their wars against the Americans; that its site was visited by Col. Crawford's command of Pennsylvanians in June, 1782; that during the war of 1812-15 it again became prominent in National affairs and history, by reason of the assemblage here of large bodies of American troops under Gen. Harrison and Gov. Meigs, and as the site of Fort Ferree; that in 1817 it was made the central point of the chief Wyandot Reserve, and it thus continued an the seat of their council house, church, store, jail, etc, until 1843, when they, the Wyandots, removed, in accordance with treaty stipulations, to a region lying west of the Missouri River. Therefore, to avoid an unnecessary repetition, we commence our historical sketch of the town of Upper Sandusky with the year 1843-the date its site was surveyed and platted under the provisions of an act of Congress.

A copy of the original "plan of Upper Sandusky, surveyed under the

484 - HISTORY OF WYANDOT COUNTY.

provisions of the act of Congress of March 3, 1843, for the sale of certain lands in the States of Ohio and Michigan, ceded by the Wyandot tribe of Indians, and for other purposes,' " is before us. From it, we learn that the original, survey of this town was made by Lewis Clason, D. S., some time during the year 1843; that "the inlots fronting on Wyandot avenue are eighty-three and one-third links front by 300 links in depth. All the other inlots are 100 links front by 250 links in depth, and contain one-fourth of an acre. The dimensions and contents of the outlots * are inserted therein. All alleys are 25 links in width." Upon this plan. which is neatly drawn on a scale of five chains to an inch, other notes and explanations appear as follows: "The above map of the town of Upper Sandusky, situated in Township No. 2 south of Range No. 14 east, First Meridian Ohio, is strictly conformable to the field-notes of the survey thereof on file in this office, which have been examined and approved. Surveyor General's Office, Cincinnati, January 8, 1844." "Secretary of State's Office, Columbus, Ohio---correct copy. April 10, 1863." "Received November 23, and recorded December 3, 4, 5 and 6, 1863, H. Miller, Recorder of Wyandot County, by William B. Hitchcock, Deputy. Fee, $10."

Originally, including outlots, the town lots extended from the west bank Of the Sandusky River westward to Warpole street, and from Church street on the north southward to the south line of the fourth tier of outlots lying south from Crawford street, or to the point now termed South street. The inlots, however, being 880 in number, were bounded on the north by Bigelow street, on the east by Front street from Bigelow to Walker street, and by Spring street from Walker to Crawford street, on the south by Crawford street, and on the west by Eighth street.

According to the plan, the original streets and their width were as fol lows: Streets running east and west-Church, 100 links; Elliott, 80 links; Gutherie, 100 links; Bigelow, 125 links; Finley, 125 links; Walker, 125 links; Wyandot avenue, 150 links; Johnston, 125 links; Hicks, 125 links, and Crawford, 125 links. Streets running north and south--Front, 125 links; Second, 125 links; Third, 125 links; Spring, 50 links; Fourth, 125 links; Fifth, 125 links; Sandusky avenue, 150 links; Seventh, 125 links; Eighth, 125 links; Hazel on the south, and Garrett on the north, both being on the same line, 62 ½ links, and Warpole on the western border, also links wide. Water street extended along the bank of the Sandusky, from the foot of Walker to the foot of Bigelow street.

This plan also indicates the exact location of various points of interest in old Upper Sandusky, which, with the exception of the "graveyard" and the William Walker house, which still stands on the southwest corner of Walker and Fourth streets, have long since entirely disappeared from view. Thus on Outlot No. At which is bounded on the north by Walker street, east by Third street, south by Wyandot avenue, and west by an alley or the continuation of Spring street, stood the rains of Fort Ferree. Upon the same lot, and directly northeast from the fort, stood the Indian jail, which, constructed of hewn timbers, aud standing upon the point of the bluff, jutted beyond the street line into Third street.. The council house stood upon Inlot No. 90. Directly north of it is shown the graveyard, which occupying the crest and slope of the bluff, and a space equal to four inlots or one acre, is bounded on the west by Fourth street, north by an alley, east by Spring

* The outlots were 216 In number, and generally contained about two acres each.

t A house which was occupied, a year or so later, by those connected with the land office, etc., also stood upon Outlot No. 49.

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street and south by Johnston street. The inclosure contains the remains of members of the Walker, Garrett, Williams, Armstrong, Clark, Hicks and Brown families, besides those of many others, a majority of whom were either part or full-blooded Wyandot Indians. Again glancing at this map of the town, we find that William Walker's residence stood upon Inlot No. 211, or near the southwest corner of Walker and Fourth streets. His store was south from his house, and occupied a portion of Inlot No. 193. Clark's house rested in the center of Walker street, near the west line of Third. "Garrett's tavern," which stood near the northeast comer of Wyandot avenue and Fourth street, occupied portions of Inlots 159 and 160, as well as Fourth street. Hicks' habitation* rested partly on Inlot No. 70 and council house, on Fifth street. Brown's cabin was directly south from the Inlot No. 19, and Armstrong's dwelling stood near the center of Outlot No. 12. Other buildings, though probably they were not of much value, were standing in 1843, upon Inlots No. 56, 106, 156, 165, 212 and 217, but the names of the original owners or occupants are not given. It will thus be observed that the first residents of this locality-the Indians and their friends of mixed blood- chose the most dry and picturesque positions as sites for their council house, jail and dwellings.

Having explained how, when and by whom the town was laid out, we will now glance at some of its early white inhabitants.

The Indians departed in July, 1848, and their old haunts were soon after occupied by a number of those who became permanent settlers, though by reason of the fact that these lands, or lots were not placed upon the market until two years later, they were for a brief period only " squatters." In October, 1843, the United States Land Office was removed from Lima, Ohio, to Upper Sandusky, and when at the same time Col. Moses H. Kirby as Receiver, and Abner Root as Register, came on and established their offices in the old council house, they found that those who had preceded them here as residents were Andrew McElvain, his brother Purdy McElvain and Joseph Chaffee. Andrew McElvain was the proprietor of a log tavern, which, standing on the grounds now occupied by the brewery had but very limited capacities for the entertainment of men and beasts. Col. Purdy McElvain had been here for a number of years, employed as United States Indian Agent, while Col. Chaffee was engaged in farming and land speculations. He had a considerable portion of the original town plat sown to wheat in the fall of 1843. At the same time, George Garrett, whose wife was one-quarter Wyandot, and who was the father of Joel Garrett, kept the " Garrett Tavern." Col. Kirby also remembers that the town was surveyed by Lewis Clason, of Cincinnati, Ohio, in November or December, 1843. At that time William Brown was engaged in surveying the reservation which had been vacated by the Indians during the preceding summer.

Jude Hall, Esq., Upper Sandusky's first lawyer, was numbered among the residents in 1844, also Cheater R. Mott, Esq., Wyandot's first Prosecuting Attorney. During that year, too, October 12, Col. Andrew McElvain was commissioned as the first Postmaster of the town.

Wyandot County was erected in February, 1845, and soon after Upper Sandusky was chosen as the county seat. Then began a lively boom for the new town. In their anxiety to secure good locations, lawyers, merchants,

* Hicks' house, William Walker's house and the council house, were the only frame buildings in the town while It was occupied by the Indians.

t Col. Purdy McElvain, then Receiver of the Land Office, died at Upper Sandusky in April, 1848. The following month the office was removed to Defiance, Ohio.

486 - HISTORY OF WYANDOT COUNTY.

doctors, artisans, hotel-keepers, shop keepers, speculators, etc., etc., hastened here by the score, and ere the close of that year, hundreds of town lots had been sold (see Chapter VI, Part III of this work); the town could boast of two newspapers, numerous stores and shops, and a population of from three to four hundred.

The names of all the tax-paying inhabitants of the town for each year since 1845 are yet accessible, hence, as a means of pointing out those who were the first residents of Upper Sandusky, we here insert the names of all who were assessed for personal property in Crane Township in the spring or early summer of 1845. The names of those who then resided outside of the village limits are printed in italics, all others are presumed to have been residents of the town proper: James B. Alden, Andrew M. Anderson (afterward Associate Judge), Anthony Bowsher (a merchant), Saul Bowsher, Jesse. Bowsher, Robert Bowsher, William Blain, Susanna Berry, James Boyd (colored), Joseph Cover, Hanson Cover, Joseph Chaffee, James H. Freet, George T. Frost, George Garrett (tavern-keeper), Michael Grossell, Brain Goodman, David Goodman, Jonathan Gaddis, David High, John Hamlin, John Johns, Samuel Johnson, Mows H. Kirby (Receiver of Land Office and attorney at law), Moses Kirby, George Larick, Samuel Landis, Andrew McElvain (Postmaster and inn-keeper), Dr. Joseph Mason (practicing physician). James McLain, John Maybee, James Morrie, William Morris, Joseph McCutchen (a merchant), Cheater R. Mott (attorney at law), George Orth (merchant), Joseph Parker, Hiram Pool, Michael Rugh, John Rummell, James Rankin (a half-breed Wyandot), John D. Sean (attorney at law), Samuel Smith, John W. Senseny, Daniel Stoner, Jesse Snyder, Nathan Sayre, Elias Sickefoos, Ezra Tucker, Abraham Trager, David Wilson, Dr David Watson (a practicing physician), William K. Weer (attorney at law), Timothy Young, George Young, Lemuel Young and Cornelius Young.

In November, 1845, David Ayres & Co. and Henry Zimmerman, having had created for themselves suitable buildings, also became identified with the business interests of the town as merchants. During the same mouth and year, too, the Wyandot chieftains Greyeyes, Jaques and Washington, while en route to Washington, D. C., to settle some matters connected with the transfer of this their former reservation, visited their old home, Upper Sandusky.

The townspeople, especially the younger portion, now began to assume airs commensurate with their fancied importance as dwellers of the county seat, as witness the following article which was published in the Democratic Pioneer in May, 1846:

"For the Democratic Pioneer."

Mr. Editor-Please let the people know that the ladies and gentleman of our town went fishing yesterday, and, just to "stop the rush," tell them the fish are all bespoken.

Upper Sandusky Is in its Infancy, but if there is a town In Ohio of not more than three times its age and size, which owns a greater number of sweet, charming and beautiful girls, we think we always went through it In the night time. All these charmers went out, and with them a slight sprinkling of the rougher sex.

Armed with bean-poles, pin books and twine, and loaded with bounteous provisions of cake and pie, we sallied forth, and disregarding wells, springs, and puddles, struck boldly for the Sandusky. The fishing being only ostensible, was soon finished. We rendezvoused at the Big Sycamore,* around w ch the varied and fleeting groups, the diversified pursuits, and strange commingling of sounds, afforded excellent opportunities for the study of Nature's works, both natural and artificial.

The greensward was our table, and never was festive board, surrounded with lighter hearts than ours. The gram afforded pleasant seats; and the attitudes, as we reclined around the daintily ordered feast, were purely classical. Of course there were coquet

*The Big Sycamore In 180, measured fifty-one feet In circumference.

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ting, ogling, honied words, and tender glances, and those who were hooked, will, perchance, learn in future to beware of the "fishers of men."

But don't stop the press any longer than just to say that we relieved the anxieties of our careful mammas by returning before dark, and the fish stories to the contrary notwithstanding, didn't catch a single fish, cat, bass, minnow, pike or SUCKER."

However, that Upper Sandusky did make rapid progress during the first eighteen months succeeding the county's organization, is fully attested by. the following extract from a letter which was written by Col. Joseph McCutchen to his friend Hon. William Crosby, United States Consul at Talcahuano, Chili, on Christmas Day, 1846.

In the first place, In relation to Upper Sandusky. It has improved beyond the most extravagant calculations. It is but a little over a ear ago since the General Government sold the town lots and land, and now some 110 inhabitants reside here. There are six dry good stores-three too many-about the same number of groceries, four hotels, mechanical shops of various kinds, and the town is still improving.

The county is also settling with an excellent class of farmers. The public building in rapid progress. The jail is almost completed; it is by far the best looking have seen; it is made of stone and brick. The brick is the best specimen I have ever seen in Ohio. The stone for the doors and windows are beautiful white Iimestone, brought from Marion County. The builder is Judge McCurdy, from Findlay, Hancock County. Although he will in a few days have seen seventy-four winters, he is one of the most enterprising pen of his age I ever saw. If he is spared a few weeks longer, the job will be finished in a masterly style. He gets by $500 too little for the. building.

The court house has been contracted for at $7,000, by a Mr. Young, from Logan County. It is to be a magnificent building. The donation from the General Government, if judiciously managed, will pay every dollar of expense of the public buildings, or nearly so, without taxing the people a dollar. I hope It may do it, as you are well aware I have labored three years with Congress, to have the donation matter accomplished. Your old friend In Congress, Hon. Henry St. John, managed that matter well.

Here we are reminded that nearly all residents and property owners of new and progressive towns-especially of Western towns, and Upper Sandusky was considered a Western town at that time-are prone to over. estimate their population. That Mr. McCutchen was led into the same error is clearly proven by the accompanying statement of the number of inhabitants of Upper Sandusky in February, 1847; that is, two months later than the date of hit; letter. Taking Wyandot and Sandusky avenues as the divisible lines, the population of the town, at the date above mentioned, was ascertained by actual enumeration to be as follows: Northeast quarter, 270; northwest quarter, 63; southeast quarter, 153; southwest quarter, 200. Total number of the inhabitants in the town of Upper Sandusky in February, 1847, 686.*

Early in the year 1848, after much controversy, and a good deal of ill. feeling had been engendered, an act was passed by the State Legislature, which declared the ambitious little town of Upper Sandusky, a body corporate, etc., etc. The act reads as follows:

An act to incorporate certain towns therein named. [See Vol. XLVI, Local Laws of Ohio, page 169.]

SECTION 12. That so much of the township of Crane, In the county of Wyandot, as is included in the recorded plat of the town of Upper Sandusky t or that may hereafter be included In the plat of said town, is hereby created a town corporate, to be known and designated by the name of the town of Upper Sandusky, and by that name shall be a body corporate and politic with perpetual succession.

*The town contained only 783 Inhabitants in 1950.1,599 In 1860, 2,564 In 1870, and 3,545 in 1880.

t By annexations made March 30, 1871 July 13,1877 and January 31, 1881, the corporate lines have been extended considerably beyond the limits described in 1848.

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Sec 21. This act shall take effect and be in force from and after Its passage.

JOSEPH S. HAWKINS,

Speaker of the House of Representatives.

CHARLES B. GODDARD, ,

Speaker of the Senate.

February 18, 1848.

Notwithstanding it was the county seat and an incorporated village, it is apparent, by reason of its sparse population and lack of manufactures, that the town and townspeople moved along in a slow, even, uneventful way, for a number of years succeeding 1848. In 1854, however, by the energy of George W. Beery, Esq., Robert McKelly, Esq., and other public-spirited citizens, railroad communication was secured with the East and West via the Ohio & Indiana Railway, now known as the Pittsburgh, Fort Wayne & Chicago Railroad. The benefits; conferred by this grand avenue of commerce were at once made manifest. Many new business houses were opened, values rapidly increased, and from 783 inhabitants in 1850, the number of residents in the town were augmented to 1,599 in 1860, or an increase of more than one-half during the decade. Since the year last mentioned, the increase in population has been at the rate of 1,000 per decade. Meanwhile, and especially during the past fifteen years, much has been accomplished in the way of beautifying and making healthful the town. A vast amount of money, in the aggregate, has been expended, and as a result its streets are well lighted and sewered, several are macadamized, and all are supplied with good and substantial brick and stone walks.

A point has now been reached in this recital when it is deemed necessary in showing the town's gradual progress, and in speaking of its corporate history, fire department, manufacturing interests, banks, social institutions, churches, etc., to use separate headings for each topic. The readers, therefore, will find further and special information respecting such subjects, under appropriate captions in pager, to follow. First, however, are inserted a series of highly interesting articles from the pen of a well-known early resident.

REMINISCENCES,

The following entertaining reminiscences "of peculiar people and events in the early days of Upper Sandusky," first appeared in the columns of the Wyandot Union, during the year 1882. They were written by Robert D. Dumm, the senior editor of that journal, and, with his permission, are here reproduced.

OLD STORM.

In 1845 and 1846, perhaps extending into 1847, there lived in Upper Sandusky a man by the name of Storm. He was a Frenchman-a French patriot. Every fiber of his nature was French; every feeling and impulse an irrepressible desire to once more look upon the beauties and grandeur of Paris. He would talk glibly of the Boulevards and the Palais Royal " on zee Rue Richelieu;" and gave you plainly to understand, that more than "zee hundred time," had he joined in the uproar of " Vive 'Empereur!"

He was one of Napoleon's old guards. He saw, do well as felt, the carnage and destruction at Waterloo, and was one of the survivors of that terrific struggle. In his way he was quite a character, and know just enough of English to make his broken French a jingle of quaintness and humor. A single man was Storm through an eventful life, because the old guard never Surrendered;" and moreover, no thought nor care had he taken of the morrow. How he happened to drift into Upper Sandusky was never

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fully explained, for old Storm was only communicative when in liquor, and the topic then uppermost in his mind was Napoleon and the French Army. He could think and talk of nothing else, and when referring to the Emperor's or's exile, would weep like a child. His worship of Bonaparte had all the feeling and fullness of adoration, and the music of his pronunciation in uttering the name of " Na-po-le-on," had that sweet and peculiar ripple which forever lingers in the recollection.

Bat Storm, away from the shimmer and shock of battle-fields, had to make a living, and he existed in Upper Sandusky, by taking care of the horses and stables of Dr. Mason, one of our early physicians. Mason, from the exhaustion of a large practice in this country, rough as it was then, was worn out, feeble in health and sometimes irritable, and old Storm used to try his patience terribly. A little incident we have in mind will show the craftiness of the old guard. Besides grooming the horses, a share of his business was to pail the cow, but as Storm never looked upon milking as a fine art, he failed to perform this part of his task with any degree of satisfaction. Time and again the Doctor and old Storm would dispute over the proclivities and disposition of the cow. To apologize for the scanty supply of milk, Storm would insist that " zee dam short-tail would not lot zee milk down."

One day the doctor met Storm coming from the stable with a vessel of milk. The quantity did not suit the doctor, so he took the bucket out of Storm's hand, proceeded to the stable and re-milked the cow with very satisfactory results. This chagrined and puzzled the old guard, but he did not surrender. The next time when Storm went to milk, he took two buckets with him After milking half from the old cow in the first bucket, he bid it in the straw, and then finished milking in the other. He carried his scanty supply of milk to the doctor, dining " zee short-tail, ",with many emphatic embellishments, for holding up her milk. Here, the Doctor, in a fit of passion. grabbed the bucket and broke for the cow to show Storm that he was "a liar and a villain." After tugging away at the old cow for about ten minutes without any show of milk, he felt like, and did apologize to Storm for his rashness. But Storm -was all smiles and good humor. He had convinced the doctor that the cow held her milk. The old guard was himself again and on top.

A few minutes after, Storm came from the stable with the other bucket of milk, telling the doctor that he bad just yanked it from the cow. Here, the doctor transformed his eye-brows into a fine pair of exclamation points, and forgave Storm for all former delinquencies, blaming the frequent short crops of milk upon " zee dam cow. "

This is one of the many little incidents that occurred, bringing forth the character of the old guard, which a life in the French Army had cultivated. Frequently have we seen old Storm, in a transport of imagination, living over again the scones of his army life, going through the drill with a pitchfork, and keeping time anti step to the low Chant of some patriotic air.

But a time came for old Storm to pass in his checks, and as the fever racked his brain, he marched with Death through the broken ranks of a shattered army -on-on-into eternity; exclaiming with his last breath, Na-po-le-on- Waterloo! Zee old guard dies, but never surrenders."

DANCER.

On of the characters of Upper Sandusky in 1846, was a rotund, Punch and-Judy sort of a follow by the name of Dancer. He was about as broad

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as long and twice as natural. The fat boy in Pickwick is an excellent picture of him, although he differed from the Pickwickian protuberance in one very essential quality. While the Pickwickian. fat boy was always falling asleep, Dancer never knew what it was to bob an eye when old Huber was around.

Dancer was a barber; he was the white opposition to our old colored friend, Archie Allen. For those early times, Dancer was quite an aesthete. He always appeared in immaculate linen, and the little bunch of hair on the top of his head was a rosette of frizzes, a la mode, which not only gave him individuality, but produced also, a very stunning effect.

Dancer was always anxious to please. He was a model of politeness and broken English, and had good backing as long as Huber had the land office in the next room.

What made Dancer more popular than he otherwise would have been, was the fact that be had a good looking wife, who could smile equal to Sarah Bernhardt, and bad the same inclination to make friends among the stronger sex. A door separated the barber shop from her boudoir, and when Dancer was out taking a gentle glass of soda water, Mrs. Dancer smiled upon his customers; and frequently men with no beard at all would drop in to be shaved, but drop oat as suddenly when they saw Dancer turning the Bowsher corner in at ziz-zag break for his Malinda.

Another door from Mrs. Dancer's boudoir opened into the land office of the U. S. A., presided over by a very pious gentleman by the name of Huber. Mrs. D. would frequently open that door, and inquire of the old Christian if his head ached, and of course it always did. Then her enthusiastic and benevolent soul would go out for suffering humanity, the infirmities of the old man were dispersed, and his life of anxiety for the funds of the United States was interwoven with the bliss of angels. The result was that the smiles of Dancer lasted longer than the treasury, for while Huber became a defaulter, the countenance of the Dancer was still wreathed in smiles.

One night Dancer was down at Anthony Bowsher's corner, drinking seltzer water. Although reared in a country where seltzer was an innocent beverage, it proved too much for Dancer; he insisted that Anthony Bowsher had two heads, and that the old log shebang was built of porcelain and precious stones. And when Dr. Hartz differed from him and intimated that " zee 'parvue' Dancer was zee damndest lunatical in zee catagorie," Dancer was only prevented from impaling the doctor on a razor, by" Red Thread, who happened to be present to take in all the spare drinks. After Dancer got quieted, he broke for his residence and barber shop.

It was very dark, was the domicile when he approached it; he thought he would turn in quietly and not disturb his soul-lit happy better-half. But behold his surprise on entering the shop, where, without the aid of even star-light, he found Mrs. Dancer and one of his customers conversing on scripture, each insisting that there was no bell this side of Chicago. As Dancer was opposed to the discussion of religious subjects at the barber shop in his absence, he got up on his ear and just riddled things. The seltzer acted well in his work of destruction, and, the barber shop soon looked like the last rose of the summer in a turnip patch. Of course this raised considerable of a scandal in a town of 300 inhabitants, and the customer's family was the first to bear the glad tidings. The wife wanted to know on what part of the scriptures he and Mrs. Dancer differed, when the husband, in despair, grabbed a rope, bid good-bye to his family and broke for the stable; he manipulated the rope over a joist and adjusted it to

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his neck, waiting in great anxiety for the family to rush out and rescue him, but they didn't rescue worth a cent. Presently, one of his daughters went out to see how the corpse looked, when the would-be suicide suggested that he couldn't think of it just now, as " a circus would be here next week," and he wanted to see one more elephant before he joined Lazarus in Abraham's bosom.

Dancer never recovered his barber trade, but a small patrimony to his wife established her in his affection as well as in the. grocery business. Huber was a defaulter and wiped out, and a few months in the grocery business put Dancer on the ragged edge; and quietly all dropped out of sight, leaving Time, the great avenger of events, to send forth his stentorian cry of " Next!"

T. SPYBEY, TAILOR.

On the site where now stands the Catholic Cathedral, in 1845, stood the shell of a new frame shanty. It had roof and weather-boarding, but lath and plaster were improvements to be added when fortune rallied to the aid of its architect and builder. This improvised tenement was to furnish the subject of our sketch shelter from the elements, and served as a domicile and place of business. It stood solitary and alone, gathering the sunbeams in summer, and bracing itself against the winds through winter. A small tin sign over the front door read: "T. Spybey, Tailor;" and all you bad to do was to pull the latch string and walk in. Like a graceful Turk spread over the table was Thomas, and, without losing a motion of his needle, would give the nod of recognition so sweetly and refreshingly, that you instantly lost sight of his infirmities, and felt only the beneficence of his presence.

Thomas was a widower with a little boy five years old. This constituted his household and family. He superintended every, department of his edifice from kitchen to 'good fits guaranteed." Where T. Spybey came from, or where T. Spybey, intended to go to, when he quit Upper Sandusky or this life, T. Spybey perhaps didn't know; nor is it to be wondered at, whether or no, T. Spybey cared. T. Spybey would frequently boast, however, that he was a full-blooded American, and could trace (but he never did) his lineage to Plymouth Rock. Like, many other tailors, he inherited the intellect and genius that seem indigenous to that calling as well as its frailties and misfortune

A great reader and a fine conversationalist was T. Spybey, but above all, brilliant in flashes of wit and humor; he was remarkable at repartee, and would frequently punctuate his utterances with thrusts that rolled and bubbled over with satire. More than once have we sat upon the table with T. Spybey, Tailor, and listened to tales of adventure, which, for our then young ears he would sandwich with good advice, never forgetting to take a stitch at the right time, and in the right place.

This was the bright side of T. Spybey, Tailor. If it had only been this, the angels would have spread their white wings over his home, and hung the brightest flowers upon his little tin sign, wafting upward the inspiration of one whose nature seemed all goodness; but this was not to be, for T. Spybey, Tailor, was human; and it was human for T. Spybey, Tailor, to get drunk. And of all men to revel at exercises bacchanalian, in the language of A. Gottfried, Esq., he was " the boss." When he worked at his trade, T. Spybey, Tailor, had no communion with the cup, but periodical drunks he would have, and continued them sometimes for weeks. It was in these drunken sprees that he became notorious. He never lost the use of his limbs, but

492 - HISTORY OF WYANDOT COUNTY.

was always on the go, calling on the neighborhood many times a day, flashing forth the oddities of his humorous nature, reduced and distorted by the bug juice of that early period.

As we have said before, the bright side of T. Spybey, Tailor was marred and made singularly unfortunate by an infirmity beyond his control, and although he furnished amusement for the town, the sight was a pitiful one; for around and about this drunken debauch, he was followed by his five year-old boy, whose sunlit eyes were unconscious of a father's disgrace. The little follow had never known a mothers care, but the father's devotion, though steeped in drink, had all the sanctity of parental love. He would hug the child to his bosom, and, with uplifted eyes, utter a tender prayer for its deliverance from all evil; the crowd around frequently melting to tears at so grand an exhibition of fervor mingled with the misfortunes of humanity. The little boy never doubted the faith or conduct of his father, and contributed to his pride of offspring In the many playful antics so common to childhood.

One Sabbath evening, when T. Spybey, Tailor, was at about 90' Fahrenheit, and spoiling to raise a racket of some kind, he tottered into the Methodist Church and took a seat in the amen corner. He seemed to take in the sermon with evident satisfaction, for every now and then he would elbow Billy King in a place where he thought it would do the most good, and smile and nod his gratification at- the speaker's eloquence. But the minister happened to drop the remark that "no drunkard could enter the kingdom of heaven;" and that raised the ire of T. Spybey, Tailor. He immediately rose to his feet, shook his fist at the pulpit, -and informed the preacher that he wanted him to be more pointed in his remarks, as some d-n fool in this corner might think he had reference to T. Spybey, Tailor-good fits guaranteed." He stalked out with injured dignity, muttering to himself it was all " a d-n lie. " and that he could prove it by Josephus or any other tramp hatter from Jerusalem.

The next morning T. Spybey, Tailor, was arrested and taken before Mayor Bivens for disturbing a house of worship. The mayor, a shoemaker, hold his office among the leather and lasts of his establishment, and his seat of justice was the veritable bench upon which he mended and saved soles. He ordered T. Spybey, Tailor, to stand up, when T. Spybey, Tailor, immediately sat down. T. Spybey, Tailor, had come into court with a bunch of onions in each hand, pulled fresh from somebody's garden, and was greedily devouring them; and when the warrant was read charging him with being drunk and disorderly, he responded by assuring the Mayor that it was, " another d-n lie," and if he didn't believe him the head of the Stoga Ticket might smell his breath I Here he filled his fly-trap full of onions and made a dash for the Mayor. At all this, and no wonder, the Mayor got mad, pawed sentence upon the culprit,* imposing a fine, and ordering him into the custody of the Supervisor. But T. Spybey, Tailor, would have his say, and quoted Scripture and the constitution to prove that Bivens was a jackass, with the accent all on the last syllable; and " what he now wanted of him was the cash long promised for making that brass cost with blue buttons, which the Mayor used on state occasions then with the dignity of a martyr, T. Spybey, Tailor, stopped out of the shoe shop and broke for the log corner after another drink.

As the world moved on, T. Spybey, Tailor, moved with it, out of one spree into another, sinking deeper as e waves gathered, with the faithful little boy still clinging to the wreck. When sickness and hunger peeped

CRANE TOWNSHIP. - 493

into the frame shanty, some relative or friend appeared, cared for the neglected child and nursed the father back to health. Then the little tin sign of " T. Spybey, Tailor," was taken down, the house sold, and father, son and friend bid adieu to Sandusky, never more to look upon the place or its people.

RUSSEL BIGELOW, INGIN.

In 1845, there was no one here to mourn for Logan but Russ. Bigelow. He was a Wyandot Indian, and the only one left of a once numerous tribe, that two years before, had emigrated to Kansas; or rather after purchase of the reservation here, was quartered there by the Government. Russ. didn't go with the tribe; not because he had any inclination to remain behind, but because his presence in the tribe at that time would have been very unhealthy for "big Ingin."

As we strolled through a sheep pasture one day with Doe. Garrett, be gave nil the story of Bigelow's downfall; and on turning over some particles of concentrated gram, he cut a smiling countenance upon a pleasant- faced buck, and also informed us how he acquired the sobriquet of Doctor; but of that no matter now, as it may form the subject of another sketch.

A short time before arrangements were made with the Wyandots for Surrender of the Reservation, Russ. got into difficulty with one of his brother warriors and committed a grave offense, which brought down on him the fury of his race; and to preserve his carcass liquid proof, he sought safety in Canada , and there remained until the Wyandots had settled in their Western home.

Ross. in his young days was good looking, and quite a masher among the squaws. One evening, at singing school, in the old Mission Church, over which the Hon. Jonathan Pointer presided, Russ. was "luxuriant" on a dusky maiden, who happened to be the charmer of another brave by the name of Peacock This Peacock couldn't see any fun at the young squaw smiling so deliciously upon Russ.; allowed the green monster to overcome him, and in the sweetest accents of the most eloquent " Chocktaw "called Russel an unmitigated son of a wheelbarrow. This was more than his Indian nature could stand, especially before the aristocratic moccasin-birds of Log Hollow, and at it the two went. Now the Indian looks upon it as a disgrace to imitate white men in a knock-down. They never strike from the shoulder. If it is not scalping-knife and tomahawk, it's go in on a back hold, down and gouge. Both were powerful Indians, but in this strug. gle Peacock proved the greater athlete. He had Russel down, and was on top; and a thought struck him that he would just go for and pocket a couple of eyes, but Russel's optics were tough that night, and would not tear worth a cent, The next bright poetic idea that Peacock got into his head was to feel in and about Russel's facial orifice for his false teeth, when Russel clamped upon Peacock's finger and yanked off a pleasant mouthful. Now, an Indian is a good deal like a Chinaman: out off a Chinaman's head and he won't say a word. He may kick around a little and complain of the weather, but he ain't going to disturb the elements; but cut off his pig-tail and he'll. boom and jerk around like an exploded boiler. It is not death so much that an Indian or Chinaman dreads as mutilation; for with them mutilation is disgrace. They are rich in the belief that the Indian develops and beautifies in the great hereafter, and for Peacock to promenade over the happy hunting ground with a finger looking like a piece of broken bologna,

*This in not the Peacock that our friends Capt. Worth and John S. Rappe use to dance with, and who was a Christian as wall as a fiddler, but another and quite a different rooster, hallelujah.

494 - HISTORY OF WYANDOT COUNTY.

was more than he or his tribe could stand; hence Russel took the first mule for Canada.

In 1845, Russel returned to Upper Sandusky very much demoralized. He had punished all the whisky lying around loose in Canada, and come back to finish up on the old stamping-ground. For a short time after his return he carried with him a bow and arrow and shot for "little dimes," as he called the small Mexican or Spanish piece, then so much in circulation, representing in value 6 1/4 cents. These little dimes were carefully deposited at the Log Corner in exchange for " hy-key." He would bet you a little dime that he could put an arrow through a little chip thrown into the air, before the aforesaid little chip would fall to ground, and he would do it every time. When he wasn't at this pleasant occupation, he would make bows and arrows for the boys, and the result was, that every boy in town who could, by any manner of means, get hold of a quarter, became a patron of Russel Bigelow. 'In those early times the boys didn't attack the old man and make him stand and deliver, like they do now. A quarter was a huge pile of money to the Upper Sandusky youngster in those days; the only fortunate exception was Cy. Mason, who was backed by the Hedges' estate and a liberal-minded dad. That is why the quarter bows became a little aggravating when Cy. would splurge around, spoiling the heads of chickens, with a dollar outfit, upon which Russel had expended all his skill and Thus Russel's unerring aim at shooting chips in the genius of his race. the air and making bows and arrows for the boys kept him pretty well supplied with "little dimes," and as long as they lasted, it was "heap whisky for big Ingin." His meals were taken at everybody's kitchen, and for lodging he generally selected one of the two blacksmith shops then existing in town. His partiality for blacksmith shops was on account of those institutions yielding him assistance in furnishing metal and the facilities for making arrow heads; and then, too, he would frequently pick up a little dime for holding somebody's horse, while the blacksmith swore at him, preparatory to nailing on -a shoo. Sometimes when the horse was delicate and of good family, and Abe Trager the artist to manipulate a pair of troublesome hind feet, he would hire Bigelow to take the " cussing " which Russel would bear with Christian fortitude for a little dime. So the live Indian moved on, always managing to keep himself full of whisky or hy-key, as he called it.

When the bow and arrow business played out, and shooting chips in the air lost its attraction, Russel was driven, sometimes, to despair, for the little clime which was a legal tender for hy-key. He resorted to every scheme and device to raise the wind, never losing an opportunity to beg piteously from all who came within reach. When these failed, he became ugly, and would threaten all the horrors of Indian cruelty upon those who refused him the little dime. A few, through fear, would fork over; but as a general thing there was little attention paid to his savage threats. He finally became such a nuisance that everybody, who had muscle enough, was frequently compelled to exercise it in kicking the Indian out of his way. At last he was induced to follow the tribe to Kansas, by assurances that Peacook's vengeance had pawed away, and that the Government installment would enable him to obtain hy-key at a low rate of interest. Thereupon Russel bade adieu to Sandusky, and joined the people of his race on the banks of the Big Muddy.

Russel, however, didn't remain long with his brethren. The civil service reform man who dispensed Government annuities to the Wyandots, compromised with Russel on a barrel of forty-rod, and he soon sprouted into a

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CRANE TOWNSHIP. - 497

little angel. He had traveled to the dark river and crossed over, ever aim. ing at the chip in the air, which still illumined with a halo of promise, sank forever in the great and mysterious hereafter; or in other words, Russel became a snake charmer, and died of the jim-jams,

J. M'CURDY, ARCHITECT AND BUILDER.

About thirty-eight years ago, an old white-headed man might have been seen kicking up a dust in and around the spot where now stands the county jail. It was J. McCurdy, architect and builder, and the contractor who had undertaken the work of erecting the edifice which now stands on the south side of the court house lot. McCurdy, then as old as Methuselah, was active as a boy, and could get more work out of men without swearing, than any other Christian within our recollection. He was a sincere old fellow who bad a mind well stored with information, with just enough vanity to bring out all his prominent traits of character, and this he never failed to do.

We distinctly remember when the ground was broken for the jail building; the enthusiastic precision of the old man in settling the lines, and the determination foremost in his disposition to throw out the first shovelful of dirt, which he did with becoming reverence; for the old man no doubt believed that good luck followed in the van of rites and ceremonies. Every hour in the day the white head, of the architect and builder could be seen moving about the work, never failing to lend assistance where it was needed and very frequently where it wasn't needed, to the annoyance and consternation of the workmen. The work proceeded slowly and every detail was watched with that scrutiny which flows from a feeling of pride. J. McCurdy was proud of his profession, still prouder of his skill, and rose to the superlative over what he considered and believed to be his good taste and judgment.

In the erection of the Jail he was bound to immortalize himself, and with this feeling he came to the second story. Here the afflatus of a pent up genius took possession of him, and he proceeded to surround the name of McCurdy in a halo of glory. So to create the envy of all other architects and builders as well as to command the admiration of generations to follow, he put two cut stones of the surface of about one square foot at each end of the front wall, to show to a dying world where the first story ended and the second commenced its upward Right. These two stones were the joy and rap' ture of. the old man, and though not down in the contract, were thrown in as extras regardless of expense.

Often have we seen the old architect and builder walk backward to the middle le of the road and gaze at the affect of these two stones with all the devotion of an artist who had portrayed his dream love for the eyes of his darling. The old architect was not content in doing all the admiration himself. He wanted help. He was suffocating for the commendation of others over the crowning excellence of his life. So lie called Dr. McConnell one day to assist him in the work of praise. The Doctor put on his spectacles, looked all over the beautiful facade, and inquired where the stones were. This dampened the ardor of the old architect somewhat, but he took a ten-foot pole and pointed them out to the Doctor. "Ah, yes, Mr. McCurdy, I see them now. I thought the mortar had run over at those points; but I see them now; yes, yes, there are two of them, and they do look like stones. Very good, very good, Mae, but I think they're about a quarter of an inch too high for the balance of the building." Here the old man's bead turned a shade lighter, but revived immediately on the appearance of Col. Mc

498 - HISTORY OF WYANDOT COUNTY.

Cutchen. The Colonel was exhorted to pass his opinion upon the two stones, which he did in a flow of compliments, assuring the old architect that there was nothing like it since the days of the Pyramids, and he would see that an extra appropriation was forthcoming, for certainly those two stones deserved an increase of salary. And many and various were the opinions and criticisms over the two stones, which wen usually declared ornaments to the delight of the old architect.

Time, however, has almost effaced the recollection of these occurrences, but the two stones still remain; and we never pass the jail but we see them, and they seem to play hide and seek with the memory of the good old man who placed them there, to exalt his profession and beautify the world.

If our good people ever build a new jail, we want to see these two stones preserved in some prominent position and marked " McCurdy's." It will not be out of character, for he was a Presbyterian, the father of a large family, and no relation to Elliot Long.

The other incidents in the career of the old architect, together with his trials and tribulations over a mischevious grandson by the name of Elisha, fall of amusing situations, will be given at another time.

J. McCurdy, architect, was a remarkable man for-his age, with sufficient culture and ability to make himself prominent in all circles of society. He was ready at an impromptu speech, and as a matter of course, was put forward on public occasions. He made the speech at the laying of the comer stone of our present court house, and did it handsomely. He welcomed the volunteers back from Mexico, at a public dinner given by our citizens, under the artistic cuisine of Bishop Tattle. The dinner was spread under a canopy of green boughs on a vacant piece of ground opposite the "Blue Ball Hotel," known in after years as the Saltsman Iota. And how well we remember the fact that, just about the time the white head of J. McCurdy bowed over the inviting feast to supplicate Divine favor, a terrible wind storm, accompanied by a dashing rain, played havoc with that part of the entertainment The rain came down in torrents for about 20 minutes, and every last son of a patriot was forced to the indecorous extremity of grabbing an armful and seeking shelter and seeking shelter where best he could. But after that the the sun came out beautifully, permitting the remaining part of the programme to be faithfully and pleasantly fulfilled.

McCurdy was a devout Presbyterian of the old school, and a regular attendant at Charley Thayer's Church. He would doze through the sermon with evident delight, but always wakened up in time to start the hymn. Now, this starting-the-hymn business had a good many competitors. It was in the days when choirs were considered iniquities, and organs an abomination not to be tolerated. There was McCurdy, Jackson, Taggart and Wilson, who all wanted to start the hymns in Mr. Thayer's Church, and the zeal exercised by these men to get the start of one another, when Charley got through reading the sacred stanza, created considerable amusement in the Christian mind, for we were all Christians in those days except Capt. Ayres, who was a Universalist; and Charley Thayer always gave his congregation to understand that no Universalist need apply. So the Captain on a Sunday morning told Charley if he wouldn't, he would, and in the neatest little announcement the Captain gave out: "That the Rev. Mr. Sky Insurer would preach at the court house in the afternoon, on the immortality of everybody going to heaven, or words to that effect, and extended a cordial invitation to all." Of course , we all went to hear the Rev. Sky Insurer in the afternoon, and, in the most pleasing eloquence, he soon settled the brimstone business.

CRANE TOWNSHIP. - 499

We digress-but then we intend to-just as much as we please in writing these sketches, because the digressions are the best part of them.

Well, one Sabbath, when Charley Thayer was reading, to be manipulated by the human voice, a new poem, entitled, " When I can read 'my title clear," McCurdy, Jackson, Taggart and Wilson squared themselves for the start, each eyeing the preacher with breathless anxiety to get the advantage. By anticipating the minister's announcement to sing, Father Taggart started up with, " When I can read "-a full neck a head, but McCurdy wasn't to be fooled with that kind of previousness, so he pitched a few notes higher with "title clear," compelling Jackson and Wilson to chime in or go it alone. In those days Presbyterians didn't play a " single hand." Now, they can "order it up," "play it alone," or bring about a "flush," and at the same time march on to the New Jerusalem as happy as clams at high tide-so excellent are the improvements in Christianity.

This proceeding was more than Father Taggart could stand. He had studied vocal music for forty years, and particularly the art of starting hymns in several different languages, and to be deprived of this chosen desire of his life by an old architect, was the hair that broke the camel's back; so he gathered no his hymn-book and tuning-fork and bid good-by to foreordination. He sought refuge in another church where he had full sway in pitching the tune, much to his own delight and pleasure of the congregation; for Taggart was a good singer, much better than McCurdy, but lacked the dash and rapidity of the old architect. The only thing the architect lacked was a few dozen teeth which gave to his baritone something like a cross between the dinner horn and a bass drum.

In politics, Mr. McCurdy was an old Whig, and if there was anything he more desired to talk about than the two stones in the jail building, it was the principles of the Whig party and his ideal of statesmanship in the per. son of Henry Clay. He would rattle it off by the yard, with a wonderful memory of events, never failing to interlard his remarks with well-pointed thrusts at his opponents.

The Presbyterian prayer meeting was very frequently hold at McCurdy's house, and in those days it was quite common for boys to attend. It is a custom now quite obsolete; but never mind, some day when you got into difficulty and are forty miles from water, you'll wish you had attended a few prayer meetings in your youth. We never failed to turn up at these meetings. Charley Thayer was always there; the old architect was always there; so was his grandson Elisha. And it is very possible that if Elisha hadn't been there, that the divine influence would not have had such an impelling force over the natures of some other boy attendants. Elisha was a mild-eyed boy " who never did anything," but his grandfather never prayed without keeping an eye open for Elisha. Elisha, however, managed to get on the blind side of the old man, and while the supplication was becoming enthusiastic, would crawl around among the audience, tie a string to the old man's slipper, and when " amen " was said, off would jump the slipper, with considerable rattle, into the middle of the floor. The old architect would clinch his fist, but relax it immediately to raise a familiar hymn. The next morning, the old architect would take Elisha into a woodshed and practice on him with a hoop-pole, and Elisha would cross his breast, and "hope lightning might strike him dead if he did," but the old man was deaf to these eloquent appeals.

Elisha also applied his artistic skill in unceremoniously removing bonnets and shawls, and in putting hickorynut shells under chairs for the wor

500 - HISTORY OF WYANDOT COUNTY.

shipers to kneel down upon. Elisha's tricks had become so much a matter of remark that he was credited with all the innocent depredations that occurred in town, and the result was that the old man was frequently seen chasing Elisha with a war club; and yet there was nothing mean or malicious about the boy. It was simply to appease his passion for fun that he indulged in these capers, willing to take the punishment they brought rather than abandon them.

While Elisha was a great tribulation to the old architect, yet he was his dead daughter's only child, and grandfather like, he loved the boy. Forgetful of his anger over aggravations, he would sometimes extol his virtues and predict a bright future for the youth-, who would tone down in time" "and after all, Elisha doesn't mean any harm in these playful tricks." Wonderful, mysterious nature! The ties which thrill the heart can never dry and the tears of be quieted, but must throb on through the smiles of to the morrow, full of the exquisite touch which lends a charm to humanity. So, while Elisha was a brick, he was still the old man's grandson. In him he could see traces of his buried darling; her infant prattle lingered through the lapse of years, appealing to a heart still aching for the loved and lost; the angels whispered, and a white hand beckoned him toward her child. No wonder then that the old man would stroke Elisha's bangs, and call him "good boy."

Failing to secure a contract to build the court house, and feeling that his occupation here was gone, the old architect took Elisha under his wing, wrapped the drapery of his tent about him, and quietly dropped out of sight.

BIVENS, SHOEMAKER AND MAYOR.

In 1848, the town of Upper Sandusky was incorporated, There was no little controversy in regard to this movement, and a good deal of ill feeling engendered. At that time, Upper Sandusky had about 500 inhabitants, and at least 250, including Alex. Little, hold up their hands in holy horror at this semblance of oppression in the way of about $10 additional tax to secure the ringing of the court house bell every evening at 9 o'clock, so our good citizens would know when to go to bed. By the way, we bad no bell at that time, but historians are allowed a good deal of "filling in" for suitable embellishments. There are only about six persons in town who could have any show in contradicting the writer of these sketches, and as their memory is not to be depended upon, we feel confident of going on undisturbed in our work Of glory. We say glory, because these sketches, like Converse's letters from the pyramids, will be published in book form, with a steel engraving of the author, and sold only to particular friends at the small sum Of $10.

The first election for corporation officers took place in 1848. W. W. Bates was elected Mayor, and Jacob Juvinall Recorder. Jake was one of oar beat-looking follows in those days, and was faultless in his dress and manners. Besides he was as popular as he was good looking. He was the only one elected on the Whig ticket, defeating Henry Miller, then fresh from the Mexican war, and another handsome fellow. We don't recollect who were elected to the Council, nor does anybody else. This city government, during its regime, spent $45.62, and the people just rose in their majesty and smashed things. The Mayor and Recorder maintained their dignity and the confidence of the people. They had nothing to do with this extraordinary expenditure of money, The Council did it. It had the audacity to pay Bill Giles $1 for publishing a column ordinance "to protect

CRANE TOWNSHIP. - 501

live fences." Maj. Sears was then interested in a live fence enterprise, and it was thought that he inspired this reckless expenditure of a hundred cents. The other $44.62 was expended for the good of the public in quarters and fifty-cent pieces, $3.72 going into a mud hole in front of the McIlvane House, now Van Marter's old stand.

This was the state of affairs when another election was called. The Whigs tenacious to maintain discipline and their party organization, put a full ticket in the field, with - for Mayor. We suppress his name, because he is one of the survivors and has a whole battery of artillery at home, including a shot-gun unerring in its aim, and we are not in circumstances at present to contemplate a probable first-class funeral.

The Locofocos to a large extent shared the distress of the people in contemplating the horrors of incorporation, and when it was proposed to elect a Stoga ticket, with Bivens as Mayor, all thought of reviving the hero of New Orleans against the " Mill Boy of the Slashes " was abandoned, and the opposition found satisfaction and a good deal of amusement in rallying to the support of the Stoga ticket.

As Bivens could scarcely read, and bad very little idea of life beyond the trade which-afforded him a living, he was thought by many a very proper person to entrust the interests of the city. He was to be fortified with a council, selected especially for their skill and ingenuity in making their marks (x) one day and denying them the next. As none of them ever paid a cent of tax in their lives, they were terribly down on taxation, and they promised their constituents, if elected, to serve the town without charge and give every citizen a chromo.

On a beautiful spring morning the contending parties met. The Whigs in full war paint-the opposition with their hands full of tickets upon which were printed the picture of a stoga boot. When the smoke of battle cleared away, it was found the Stoga ticket was elected with the exception of one councilman who was defeated a few votes by Dr. Ferris. Did Dr. Ferris serve? Well, you can just smile that he didn't. He walked up and paid his two dollars for the privilege of resigning.

We have witnessed the enthusiasm of many campaigns in Upper Sandusky, but none has yet approached the wild tumult of joy over this triumph. Bivens was serenaded with the only bass drum then existing in town, and he made a speech in such high-sounding English that it had to be interpreted into French before it could be appreciated or fully understood. It was in this speech, however, that he got off the immortal words, " That under Providence and our star-bangled Constitution, every man was liable to office. "Each of the successful Councilmen was saluted with a tin horn and each assured his delighted fellow-citizens that they would preserve the integrity and enterprise of the noble red man who had left the imprint of his genius upon oar beautiful plains.

Bivens, overcome with joy at so sudden a freak of good fortune, with its privileges and attending honor, stalked into his shoo shop, and from thence next door into his parlor, and catching a glimpse of his graceful better half, struck an attitude: " Barbara, behold your Bivens! Look into my eyes darling, and tell me, if in the fondest dream of your life, you ever expected to sleep with a 'mare;"' for that was the way he always persisted in spelling it. The good wife melted to tears and assured Bivens that she always thought some grand fortune would overtake them, but this distinction and honor overwhelmed her. "Don't let us be proud William bat let us continue to speak to common folks as usual. Let us set an example to

502 - HISTORY OF WYANDOT COUNTY.

other great people of the town; bat William, I must have a grand wardrobe, to reflect in part, the dazzling splendor of your white vest, on state occasions."

Very soon Bivens was surrounded with official authority, but he pegged away all the same. His first official act was to draw up a deed for himself, conveying his little property, with the expectation of enlarging his surroundings. He came to the clause where it stipulates that the wife must be examined separate and apart from her husband, before she attaches her name to the instrument. Did this puzzle the Mayor? Not much. Did it stagger the Bivens in his contemplation of legal discrimination? Well, scarcely. His mind rose to that grandeur which overcomes the frivolous technicalities of law. He told Barbara to go into the other room. He inti. mated to Barbara that she must sit near the keyhole. That she must gaze pleasantly on some hopeful object and think only of her " mare;" as it was now his privilege as well as his duty to examine her separate and apart from her husband through the keyhole. All of which the Mayor did with that pleasing triumph which throws a spell of enchantment over greatness, and he reveled in the beatitude of these graceful feelings, until he took his deed to the then Recorder, John A. Morrison, who told Bivens he was " a d-n fool, and that his deed wasn't worth a cent,"

Here was consternation mingled with injured authority and great expectations. To be called it d-n fool by a common man was bad; to have the glory of his first official act met with derision was still worse, but he would have his revenge. Pop-Eye* should be arrested for contempt of court at the very first opportunity.

The Mayor drifted from one situation to another, until one day he saw a prominent attorney shoot off his gun within the limits of the corporation. That settled it. He immediately scattered for the shoo shop, and told Barbara that the peace and dignity of the city now, Atlas-like, rested upon his shoulders. He would make an example of the Major. He would fine him for contempt of court, and then compel him to surrender his gun to a public procession, headed by the City Council. He drew up a warrant which read : " Whereas, I, William Bivens, Mayor of Upper Sandusky, ss., saw John Dudley Sears, did shoot; Resolved, that said John Dudley be arrested without benefit of clergy," and this warrant was placed in the hands of the Marshal for collection.

The prisoner " was collected " and taken to the shoe shop, where he demanded a trial. The Mayor winked pleasantly, and said there would be no trial-not if the court knew itself. He saw the shooting with his own little eye, and that was sufficient. " Fine-$1 and costs--cash! Marshal, take charge of the funds." But the prisoner at the bar, or rather at the shoe bench, wasn't to be treated in that summary manner. He demanded his rights as an American citizen of Crawford County descent, and that while the Mayor saw him "did shoot," he was there ready for trial with an array of home talent who would swear that they didn't see him shoot., and that the burden of proof was in his favor." Furthermore, he had McKelly to defend him, and you all know in those days McKelly had a voice, and a combination of aesthetic adjectives at which the angels would spread their wings and fly away; but Bivens wasn't an angel, and he couldn't spread; he had to stay on earth and struggle through the volley. At last crouching under the panoply of his office, be ordered Mack under arrest for contempt

*John A. Morrison was called Pop-Eye on account of his large, protruding eyes.

T Maj. John A Sears.

CRANE TOWNSHIP. - 503

As there was no officer in the shoo shop big enough to tackle the case rested until court, when Bivens shouldered his docket, in where the blind girl was. dangling her scales, spread his case bee Judge, and made an appeal for suffering humanity; but as Judge Bowen was not of the kind who cared for suffering humanity, unless it took the form and shape of a lovely woman, Bivens was ordered to get out, and make room for Blunderbus vs. Hurricane-a noted case that involved the value of a $2-pig.

From that day the star of Bivens was on the decline, and he pegged and blundered through the remainder of his administration, the sport of the time and for many years thereafter. " Since the days of Bivens " has become an epoch in our history to crown a ludicrous expression or bring to memory some event of pleasing notoriety.

Bivens couldn't exist in Upper Sandusky after his power to arrest for contempt of court had fled, so he gathered up his effects and the wreck of his greatness, and left for other and greener fields.

TABLER, THE REVIVALIST.

In the early days of Upper Sandusky, the principal church building was the Stone Mission, now almost a rain in the northeastern part of the town. It was built for the Indiana, and for a long time the red man worshiped there his belief in the Great Spirit.

We shall not recount the origin and growth of the Mission Church, because it is not within our recollection. This church, its founders and worshipers have passed into history and is well known to the general reader.

Perhaps the beat posted man in town in regard to the many incidents connected with the Mission Church, is our esteemed follow citizen, John Owens, whose father built the church in 1832. We believe it was in 1832, but ten or a dozen years out of range is not much of a mistake for historians to make. There are discrepancies of several thousand years in the legends of old writers, yet nobody gets up on his ear over the fact. True, a fellow by the name of Bob Ingersoll has had the audacity to question the integrity of the Bible because the ark was a few, feet too narrow, and as many feet too short, to have carried safely over the flood, the caravan of the living, and the provender to sustain it, but then nobody pays any attention to this meddlesome, seven-by-eight Republican.

Every Sunday the old Mission Church was crowded. Although there was not a sidewalk in the town, and the road to the Minion Church, in ugly weather, was little less than a swamp, people would go at the risk of health and shoo-leather; and during a revival, which usually lasted all winter, the attendants were as anxious to got seats as dead heads at a concert. Women wore boots and men rubber diving suits to protect them from the mud and slush, but they got there all the same.

One winter, particularly, the excitement was intense, and people would entry without their suppers to be in time at the church before the orchestra chairs were all taken. It was during this memorable revival that the subject of our sketch, the Rev. Jeremiah Tabler, made his appearance. possible that we are slightly mistaken in the Christian name of this divine, but saddest of all, it might have been.

Tabler was a peculiar man; tall, spare, somewhat cadaverous in appearance with hair black as coal, and a pair of eyes so full of expression that they Boom to talk and tell yon how wicked you were. With these qualities had a wonderful voice, plastic and yet so thrilling, that it was no trick at

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all for him to yank a " hallelujah " from any one inclined to give way to religious emotions. While perhaps he was the most illiterate man that ever swung from a pulpit, there was something so pleasingly fascinating and magnetic about him that he had only to open his is mouth to become eloquent. With a sublime fervor he would thrill you with the utterance of words that in themselves were meaningless. His blunders, sometimes, would choke you with sympathy, until you could sufficiently recover to enjoy a Smile. If he had said the moon was made of green cheese, you would instantly have wept for the poor moon, so wonderful was this man in the gift of expressing thought without regard to language. It seemed that he could plume any word to express the sympathy of his soul, and throw the same effect into the feelings of his audience. All his sentences ended in " ah, " and frequently many of his words; but those "she " shook you up and held you suspended by the hair; and it was only when you lost sight of Tabler that you could unstring your nerve and see the ridiculousness of your situation.

In preaching his introductory sermon, Tabler, in a flight of eloquence, told his hearers " that he graduated at the foot of Jesus and got his diploma from heaven. That he was no scholar or college graduate, but simply an instrument under the influence of heaven to stir the people up to the magnitude of their wickedness, and that every man must work with the tools he has. The carpenter worked with his tools, ah; the blacksmith with his tools, ah; and thank God he worked with the tools that God gave him. He compared the native and educated ministry with the progress of the carpenter trade. He said before the educated smoothing-plane could be used on the wicked scantling the rough had to be taken off with a jack-plane, and it was called "Here the minister coughed, and asked Sister B. if her soul was still rising. He appeared a little confused, but grasping at the rings of Saturn exclaimed, " that he was one of heaven's jack-planes, and always got it off in that way." This remark was made with a suspicious look at an old bachelor who had succeeded in getting a front seat, who would have enjoyed better health if held got married at the right time.

Tabler was one of the Winebrennarian order of disciples, and after a successful revival which loomed up into encouraging numbers, he established a church here, and for several years included this place in his circuit. He was always greeted with a full house. You never could tell what he said after you left the church, unless to laugh over some blunder or ridiculous expression, yet he drew and interested you to such an extent, that to miss one of his sermons was considered a misfortune.

One night, when the house was jammed, the min coming down in torrents, and the lightning and thunder stirring every one within with feelings of alarm, Tabler took occasion to mingle the fury of the elements with an appeal to the wicked in a manner so electrifying that such a rush was made for the altar that a placard had to be put up declaring to other sinners that there was " standing room only." He called up the dead Indians from their graves with that weird and fervent assurance, that each flash of lightning as it glared and glimmered through the windows, seemed to disclose the spectral forms of the past, marching with measured steps at his call. The old missionaries who had undergone trials and tribulations in the cause, frequently meeting death to reclaim the savage, stalked in at the open door; and even Johnathan Pointer could be seen gathering the tithes for a new collection of hymns. Such was the power of this illiterate man to thrill and enthuse an audience. He would mingle with a rattle of words the pleasing ripple of running water, budding its course with roses and the

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beauty of spring. Even in a spasmodic outburst of "hallelujah," he would scatter the balm of a thousand :flowers and bring some sister to her feet with glory to God!"

And yet this Tabler loved his chicken like other ministers, and would even growl if the collections did not come up to his expectation of Christian fortitude. He had a weakness for some of the good looking sisters, so Bishop Tuttle said, but every body shook his fist and called Bishop Tuttle a liar. Whatever Tabler might have been in the kitchen or a back room is nothing to us as a truthful historian. We only know him as a great revivalist, who could murder the King's English and at the same time charm you with its destruction. He was a man who could give thought and expression to sound, and fasten it with the holy wag of his head. To the enthusiastic in the faith he was irresistible. He could say " come " three times with that fervor, feeling and solicitude, that you would feel yourself involuntarily rising to your feet with a readiness to wade in. He could instil a whole sermon into these three words of invitation, and the result was the mourner's bench was a popular resort for half the congregation. Many souls were converted that winter to thaw out in the spring, yet there were others who proved faithful to the last; and one or two are still living here who thank Tabler for pointing them to the light that shines from another world.

RAMSAY.

His name was Ramsay, and he gloried in the pleasing ripple that these six letters made in weaving their music into syllables. He informed the sketcher that it was pronounced Ram-zee-with a trip-hammer accent on the ram part. The zee was simply a beautiful French zephyr to ornament beneficent design in embellishing the individuality of an eminent people. That Ramsay was a name of distinction; of Scottish origin; of distinguished scholars, poets, painters and physicians. That Ramsay Alexander was authority on the anatomy of the heart, brain and liver. That Ramsay Allan was a painter whose master-pieces made the Raphael Madonna look sick; and Bob, the Greek Slave that Major Sears talks so much about, is nothing but a hitching -post in comparison to the fair and lovely virgin that one of my ancestors chiseled out of a common nigger-head." That Chevalier Ramsay wrote the " Travels of Cyrus " and the " Life of Fenelon, " and although a Scotchman, wrote them in French. That the balance of foreign Ramsays just made the hemisphere brilliant with the grandeur of their thought and the wonder of their achievements, but that he was a hairpin from the Cushion of David Ramsay, an American historian and physician, who was born in Lancaster, Penn., a short time before the American eagle.

The Ramsay under discussion dropped from, no one knows where, upon a forty-acre tract of unimproved land in Antrim Township, and commenced life as a farmer. He was a tall, good-looking fellow, only remarkable for the size of his lips, and the critical glare that made prominent a large pair of blue eyes. His energy was only exceeded by his ambition. To battle life in the woods with convenience and economy, he married; but making rails at 50 cents a hundred didn't agree with young Ramsay's diaphragm, and concluding that there was an easier road to fortune, it was not long before a man of his indomitable will found and pursued it. In reading one of Jayne's almanacs and learning of the fabulous sums of money made out of pills and cough syrup, Ramsay made up his mind to be a doctor, and every spare moment from daily labor was given to the study of medicine. Lacking in education, the study was a difficult one; for those terrible Latin

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jawbreakers would shake him up and hold him suspended over the picture of a skeleton, in that doubt and despair which rattled through his bead in a thousand aches But he did not surrender-he wasn't that kind of a Ramsay. He had the distinction of his Scotch lineage to brace him, and what he lacked in classics was more than made up by the magic spell which surrounded a great name-the name of Ramsay!

After a short course of study he scratched his name upon a little tin sign, and, illuminating it with the professional affix, commenced practice in or near the village of Wyandot. The ills common to new countries are the agues and fevers which quinine and calomel knock in the head without the slightest provocation, and the Doctor had good success.

He removed to Upper Sandusky and formed a partnership with Dr. Watson, killing and curing under the firm name of Watson & Ramsay. In winters, these men alternated in attending lectures at Cleveland, as one hand could generally run the ague business during the dull season. While Ramsay had the experience of considerable practice, be had never whittled the benches of a lecture room; so when it came his turn to break for Cleveland, he spread himself in the best toggery that could creep from under the artistic fingers of Peter Huffman. With his Dundreary whiskers, cane and eyeglass, he looked like an Irish-Italian impresario, but his name was still Ramsay. When he returned from Cleveland he brought back with him a manikin and a pica edition of Shakespear. This Shakespear was a secondhand paper copy that would pleasantly fill a wheelbarrow, and the manikin occupied about the same space.

Ramsay, through his early struggles and disappointments, had become quite a misanthrope. He acknowledged without decent hesitancy that he no longer loved his wife nor cared for his children; that his marriage was the result of ignorance, and his family a misfortune. He had an aversion for the society of men, and was only in agreeable elements when he had for a companion some mild-eyed boy who could listen enchanted at the wonders of Ramsay; and the sketcher was usually that mild-eyed imitation of bifurcated humanity. He used to say that the success of a young physician was in looking wise and feeding his patient on any amount of harmless preparations, such as white sugar, flour, starch, etc. He said he gained his first triumph by looking at old Brown's tongue, which was wrapped in about four coats of dog-leg tobacco; and the altisonant explanation he gave of the color of that tongue, conducting it through the realms of most beautiful metaphor to the lower lobe of the old man's liver, met with a pleasing response. The old patient, fall of gratitude, shook the Doctor's hand, and said he was the only physician that understood his case, He knew it was his liver, but that contrary old woman of his always insisted that it was nothing but dog-leg. So Ramsay put on a wise look and treated this man for a bad liver. He left him a half peck of pulverized licorice to be taken in small doses with the regularity of clock work, spreading over all the caution that his patient, during the use of this powerful medicine, should beware of stimulants, especially anything that had the narcotic effect of garlic or tobacco. He threw in the garlic to pull the old man off the scent. The result was that in a few days old Brown was himself again, sounding the praises of Ramsay all over the neighborhood. He only charged him $50, which Brown thought was entirely too cheap, and in addition made the doctor lug home a spring calf and a bag of potatoes. He owed his resuscitated liver to Ramsay, and if he wanted a barn raised or a note indorsed, all he had to do was to call on his friend Brown. At this, Ramsay

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melted to team, and said he wouldn't have charged a cent, but that liver medicine was so terribly expensive. It could be got nowhere nearer than the Alps; that it was discovered by Bonaparte while crossing the Red Sea - a beautiful brook of pure carmine which meanders through a crevice in that wonderful peak. " History, Brown, history, is where the effulgence of this beneficent drug first poured upon me its limpid light. No other physician has this wonderful work of 'Bonaparte after a Bad Liver."'

The manikin which Ramsay brought from Cleveland looked very natural in wax and bright colors, representing all parts of the human frame with the skin off. He said it was modeled after Alexander the Great, but as the Alexander part was missing, he would call it Susan. The pica copy of Shakespeare bad its history which the doctor rattled off with a flourish, then both were placed in a large store box. One morning the manikin was missing; burglars had crawled through a back window and borrowed it. The doctor was in a whirl of excitement. All his fond hopes of a summer study had vanished. Police! police!! Officers were notified of the theft, and a reward offered. The greatest vigilance and the most active search availed nothing. All the doctor could do was to mourn over his loss. " If they had only taken the Shakespeare, but the manikin, my God!" A few days after, the lost was found in the old Council House with the following card tied to its left ear: "My dear Ram-We are through with the business, but since your manikin has been sleeping for the last week with Russell Bigelow, we consider its character ruin."

The, burglars and the writer of this note were probably graduates from Brown's shoo shop.

Ramsay had a vain desire to be great or at least rich; and conceiving the idea that wife and family were a hindrance to success, deserted them leaving wife and two beautiful children forever! The poor woman was heart-broken over this dastardly, unnatural act, for she idolized her husband.

Man years passed before the whereabouts of Ramsay became known. He y had gone to New York, engaged in practice as a specialist in private diseases and amassed a fortune. Several years ago he was smitten with the charms of a beautiful Spanish lady who was traveling in America with her mother. The Doctor, who contended that love was a humbug, acknowledged the soft passion to the Spanish belle and pleaded for her hand. But the belle hesitated with "Si hay calculos, tomense repetidas dosis de aceite de oliva que hayan pasado;" which means in English that "the Ramsay was too entirely too too d-d old for La Senora Ambrosia," and before her mother would permit the surrender of her youthful beauty to the rich old specialist, he must come down with the pewter. An ante-nuptial contract was made placing to the credit of' the daughter $25,000 in bounds, with a neat little clause inserted, that on the death of the daughter, bonds and their increase should pass over absolutely into possession of the mother. The marriage took place the fashionable watering places sparkled with their presence. It was not long, however, before the beautiful belle began to pine for the sun-lit skies of her Spanish home. The bloom faded from her cheeks, and something like a cough had in it the terror of a most dreaded disease. The gentle mother insisted that her daughter should look upon her beloved Spain once more, assuring him that it would bring back the roses to his bonny bride. Would he accompany them? How could he with a practice on his hands worth twenty thousand a year; so he kissed his lovely wife good-bye and prayed for a speedy and safe return.

After a few months' absence a telegram announced her death, and this

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was soon followed by a fashionably dressed corpse, embalmed and hermetically sealed in an elegant and costly casket. The crystal front exposed a profusion of flowers through which peeped the face of a dead beauty. Did the Doctor recognize that loved and cherished face? Most assuredly, although disease and death had stripped it of all its charms. His grief was intense, and he never recovered from it, until his Spanish mother-in-law demanded her rights under the marriage contract-the $25,000 that was settled upon her daughter with a tender reversion to the mother. Ramsay having his suspicions aroused, had the body exhumed, but as all first-class Spanish corpses look alike when several months old the examination was everything but satisfactory. Suit was commenced to establish a conspiracy and recover back the money, and a New York court tussled with Ramsay and the mother-in-law for several weeks, giving in at last to the latter, who pocketed the securities and left for Spain.

It was intimated that the beautiful La Belle returned from heaven by way of the Isthmus as won as the $25, 000 were secured, and is now the wife of a curled mustache who knows how to handle the supple and unscrupulous stiletto. Was the Doctor wise? You can smile that he was-very, very wise, and correspondingly discreet, in not seeking for his wife in Spain; for verily, a still., small voice became resonant, that it would scarcely be healthy for Ramsay to circulate in that beautiful, yet perfidious Spain, where the stiletto secures what the law off times is powerless to maintain.

The wretch at last felt a shook of the wrong which shattered the hearts of his little family in Upper Sandusky; and if full retribution has not already followed, lot a fervent prayer ascend that it may. To conclude with a benediction, permit us to add, that it would cheer our way to the tomb, and make pleasant and joyful a trip up the golden stair, to loam before starting, that the craven who caused so much misery, was compelled to live with a heart full of Spanish holes, similar to the one inflicted by the beautiful La Belle.

TRAGER.

Halloo, Abe, can yon shoe my horse, to-day?" "Well, don't know, Bill; Red Thread is here with four turkeys, which he borrowed from a fellow cross the river, and we are having it red hot on a raffle to see who takes the pile. Come in, Bill; let your old nag go a couple of days. Can't?

Want to go to mill? Out of flour ? Well, get off your horse and take a throw. I've got lots of flour, and you can help yourself. And Tom's here; so is Jim, and so is old Steve, drunk as a fiddler's bycicle. O, get off hitch; what's the use of being a d-n fool for a little flour, when there's

bushel's of fun for five cents? Russ., you ugly old Ingin, get up and give Bill a seat on the anvil." Allow the sketcher to introduce Abe Trager, blacksmith.

Of all the men that ever lived in town, Abe Trager was the jolliest and biggest-hearted. The scene we introduce above has in it an inference that Trager was a careless fellow, more given to trifling away his time than attending to the better pursuits of life, but such was not the case. While Abe was full of fun, and would sometimes adjourn trade to join the boys in a harmless pastime, no man worked harder or had a greater pride in looking after the comforts of his family. Elie little shop stood for years on Main street, south of the railroad half a square, and on the east side of the street. It was a popular place, and few ever passed the shop without having a word with Abe. He had a call and an answer for every one, and if you needed assistance, off would go that leather apron in an instant.

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He was a little uncouth. You might even have called him rough, but he bad a heart as tender as a child's. A useful man wag Trager. He was at the sick bed of every neighbor, and those large callous hands of his were offices of comfort in smoothing the pillow of restless beads. Those same rough hands, with a tender touch, have closed the eyes of our dead and arranged their pallid forms for the last sad service.

Once at the death-bed of a friend, when the poor wife, prostrate with grief, found relief in an anguish of tears, Trager, who wag choking with sobs and the big tears running down his cheeks, said: "Maggie, don't cry for Jim. I never cry. Now be a man, Maggie, and don't cry. See how calm I am, and I would have bet my last dollar on Jim. The last words, Jim said, were: 'Toll Maggie not to cry;"' and here the great heart broke down entirely with the impulses of his tender nature. Recovering sufficiently to look upon his dead friend, he muttered half soliloquizing, and halt in the direction of the bereaved wife, to stimulate her with words of solace: That poor Jim was his beat friend; that be had pitched horse-shoes with him a thousand times; that Jim never would cheat nor go back on a saw-off; and while old Steve and Red Thread, and even young Frank would try to get the better of him on a side flip, Jim always toed the mark and bought his pitcher of cider like a little man. And, Maggie, I was talking to Jim a short time before he died, and he said he was going home, and that death had no terror, if it wasn't for leaving his darling wife; and says he, " will you look after Maggie some, when its cold. Abe; when the flour's low; and if the poor thing gets sick, will you, Abe? "And then he smiled and pointing upward, said: " Its there, Abe; a star is shining, oh, so bright; and a little hand beckons me toward its beautiful light. Two little wings peep from tinder that star, and a bright, sweet face! It it; my child, Abe; the darling boy who left us years ago! lie's there, Abe, waiting and watching-waiting and watching! Tell Maggie we'll wait for her, where there's no death, and where the star shines. Another peaceful smile and another hand reaching for the bright light and Jim was with his child. This glimpse of the immortal was a bow of promise to the stricken wife. If poor Jim could not stay with her, he could clasp to his breast their darling boy, and she could go to them-to Jim and her darling-where there is no death and where the star shines. And old Abe was sitting astride a chair, with his chin. resting upon its back, wiping the moisture from his eyes, and assuring Maggie that he never abed a tear in his life, and if she would cheer up he would tell her the biggest joke on his old woman she ever heard. "And Jim was with me, Maggie, and didn't he enjoy it? He said it was as good as getting married, and you know he always said that when he was extra pleased. Ain't that so Jim? " In a moment unmindful of the scene of death, old Abe had turned to the pallid features of his dead friend for the playful response that in life was so much a part of his nature, and again wiping the big tears from his eyes, muttered in broken sobs: " I did, Maggie, yes, I did--I-I-forgot poor Jim was dead; but don't cry; see bow calm I am, and I loved Jim dearer than a brother. He was just boss on a chicken roast, and one Saturday afternoon, my old woman killed two lovely chicks, fat as coons, filled 'em with stuffin' and laid him on the milk house to sweat. She was expecting the preacher next day, and when she has preacher on the brain for dinner, old Abe has to go on short allowance; so I thought I would hold a full hand on those chickens. I told Jim to meet me at Chaffee's mill, and we'd,' roast 'em at the coal pit, and didn't

Is? You ought to have seen Jim go for that spotted hen. He just made it

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in ten minutes and was still hungry. He's the last fellow I ever thought would die, while so many chickens were running around loose. He said he'd take the breast bone home and try luck with Maggie. I didn't take mine home. I knew there would be no luck for me if I did; so I spent the balance of the day at the coal pit. In the evening I went home and told mother I never was so hungry since I had the measles; and if she had a piece of chicken left I would take a leg or two; and then you ought to have seen that old gal git up and dust! She just opened her mouth and screamed, 'It was you who stole my chickens, I know it was. Oh, Abe, Abe, how could you be so cruel? 'Why woman have you been to the mourner's bench, that you've got it so bad? What about chickens? I just left old Ponder and he was swearing about snakes! Now its chickens! Never heard that it was chickens before. Mother, that current wine is entirely too strong, but I'd rather have it chickens than snakes; but what about your blamed poultry any how? Its a sad thing that the father of this family can't have at least a wing to gnaw at, after a hard day's work at burning charcoal. Gave it all to Tabler, eh? Well, all right, mother, dish up those cold pota. toes and second-hand onions. Haven't touched a morsel since morning., But she kept on yelling, 'where's my chickens, you old wretch? 'Well, chickens again', said I, I don't it beat h-1. Sis, go down and tell Dock. Mason to come up and look at your mother's tongue, for I don't like this chicken business a bit; the next thing we know it will be snakes, then goodbye, Eliza Jane! Chickens! Me take your chickens! Why, gorolmighty, mother, did, you ever know a blacksmith to steal chickens while firing a coal pit? Bet your life Russ Bigelow has taken those chickens, and I'll go right down to the shop and look after the bones. If I can't find bones, I'll weigh the Ingin, and if he pulls down ten pounds more than usual, he's got 'em,' and I'll whale the whisky out of him.' I So it wasn't you then, Abe?' I No, darling; I ain't that kind of a shanghai. I wouldn't eat a chicken at no coal pit; neither would Jim; and Frank Tripp will cross his breast and tell you, that when I'm firing a coal pit, I hate the sight of chickens; for the Scriptures say, when your burning charcoal on Sunday, eat nothing but old Chaffee's roasting ears.

In the foregoing is indicated the nature of good old Abe Trager, who was the life of our town in early days. Many of our older citizens will remember him with emotions of pleasure and recall to mind the incidents we have related; or many so strikingly similar, that they will say, "yes, that's Abe."

Our esteemed and respected fellow-citizen, Frank Tripp, Sr., commenced learning his trade with honest old Abe. and can, no doubt, give many entertaining accounts of his humorous side. About twenty-five years ago, Trager and his family removed to Iowa, and we understand he is still living; if he is, he is one of the men we would travel a hundred miles on foot to see.

AMIDELPHAIN.

The two Latin scholars we had -an Irish schoolmaster and an old French doctor were struck with the euphony of this high-sounding word, and flow to Webster's Unabridged for consolation; but Squire Webster failing to anticipate the intellectual grasp which made the title of Amidelphian possible, contented himself with "Delphian," and left poor Ami out in the cold. Where Ami could have been when Noah was getting up his interesting catalogue, was suggested during the controversy by one of our literati, who said he didn't know, but thought the Ami we were looking for might be found in

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Chicago picking rags. One or two crossed-eyed imbibers of belles-lettres just squatted on their knees and held their sides, when a flaming poster announced that "the Amidelphian Society of Upper Sandusky would jerk dramatic thunder from a grand old English Tragedy, which had charmed as well as thrilled the crown-heads of three or four dozen continents," or words to that effect. Meantime, while the critics were making merry over a name that was apparently without name, because lexicographers had failed to find fair Ami among the Latin roots and Greek derivatives in time for the approaching exhibition, the amateur histrionic talent of Upper Sandusky were sweating at rehearsal for the grand debut that was to take place in Ayres? Big Brick. Capt. Ayres bad just erected the brick block which now stands opposite the court house, and it was in this building, before completed, that the Amidelphian Society spread its wings for fame.

The play selected was an English standard, entitled "Young Norval," and the several characters were assumed by Miss Mattis Ayres, Miss Rumina Ayres, Miss Cal. Doolittle, Isaac Newton Ayres, Frank Huber, Wean Beals, Howell Morrison, Charles Bagley, Charles Robins and the Sketcher. Scenic designer and toucher-off of calcium lights, Prof. Mikado, on a visit from Tiffin. Music by the band, which was composed of William Ayres, Deacon McGill and James G. Roberts. And couldn't they play. We shall never hear their like again. Ayres was all melody; Deacon came in with his soulstirring " Bear's Trot," and Roberts with that clarinet filled you with feelings that drew forth glimpses of the gates ajar. Col. Jont. Ayres lent his able assistance in arranging the play, and the programmes were printed by an imp who scoured tails in the old Pioneer office.

On the opening night the house was packed; a dozen yards of calico rolled up and the play commenced. The scene unfolded was one never to be forgotten. It was the grand audience room of a King, in which a flourbarrel painted yellow formed the throne, and a circle of tin the insignia of royalty. The assemblage was spell-bound with admiration, and the play moved on. At last the stellar attraction waltzed in, and came very nearly landing on his ear, but struck an attitude before the King and yelled:

"Me name is Norval, on the Gram-pi-an hills

Me fa-ther feeds his flock--a fru-gi-al swain,

Whose only care was to protect his herd,

And keep his only boy. myself, at home,

To run the peanut stand.

But I had heard of battles. and you bet,

I stole a dollar from the old man and left;

And if you want anything out of me, old rooster,

Just come down out of that flour-barrel."

Young Norval, who represented a Scottish peasant, was in reality a changeling and the heir of a king; hence he was dressed in a waist of blue paper muslin, with pantaloons to match. He looked lovely in low neck and short sleeves, and the brass ring borrowed for his left hand completed the costume. He just felt big enough to square himself at Edwin Forest, but he didn't. The rest of the company looked handsome in conventional dramatics, and carried off the applause and several baskets of bouquets, which were thrown upon the stage by follows in the pit, whom Col. Jont. Ayres had hired for the occasion.

Miss Mattis Ayres, a very beautiful and accomplished young lady, and a great favorite with our people, impersonated Lady Montague with rare ability, and won the honors of the society.

Miss Rumina Ayres was another brilliant young lady, who exhibited re

512 - HISTORY OF WYANDOT C0UNTY.

markable histrionic talent. She is now the wife of Hon. John McClure, of Little Rock, Ark., and one of the most accomplished ladies in the South.

There's a young man in town who revels in the tragic name of Frank Edwin, whom many of our people have seen fit to compliment for rare talent in a dramatic way, but he " wasn't a patching" to his illustrious sire as the noble Young Norval of early days, in low neck and short sleeves.

The Amidelphians repeated their tragedy to another crowded house, and then disbanded. Only two of that remarkable society remain as citizens of Upper Sandusky. The others are scattered-several of them sleeping the sleep that knows no waking.

Of the orchestra, William Ayres and Deacon McGill have passed over the river, leaving behind the tenderest feelings of respect. Mr. Roberts is still here, and one of our honored and amiable citizens. Does he still play the clarionet? Well, no-he's entirely too healthy. Years ago he gave his clarinet to Maj. Sears, and this loved instrument, together with the Bible kissed by our sons of Malta, and a Confederate dollar bill, are resting in the Major's museum as relies of by-gone glory. And Col. Ayres-grand and glorious Jont.; he never gets an hour older, and is still the genial arid lively gentleman he was forty years ago-always ready to got up a dance, or take his place behind the scenes.

Callie Doolittle, a charming girl, is now out West, happily married to a prosperous Yankee by the name of O'Brien, and the mother of several beautiful children.

Isaac Newton Ayres, one of the brightest young men Upper Sandusky ever produced, died in the bloom of manhood', when his paths were full of promise, and his sacred dust now lies in a distant State, where the troubled Missouri, in its onward flow to the Gulf, sings a requiem for the departed.

Frank Huber, another brilliant fellow, always sparkling with wit and the life of his young circle, met death at an early age and was conquered. And so of poor Howell Morrison, who lived but a short year to survive the glory of Amidelphian honors. Wean Beals always good-looking and the Beau Brummel of those times, is a distinguished politician in Indiana, making his residence at Bourbon. A Whig then, was Wean; but now a Democrat and a prominent county official.

And Charley Bagley-good old-fashioned Charley Bagley-with almost the brains of Webster and the genius of Franklin, it remained for him Bagley-to go through the trials and tribulations of life, and to find happiness in being much married and the father of a numerous family. He went to Cario, Ill., where the rivers meet, and where mosquitoes blockade that American delta against the tide of emigration; but as Charley was mosquito-proof, he got fat on turtle soup and married a widow with six children. The lapse of a single decade brought him a half dozen more; and then death threw its pall over his cherished wife. In this bereavement we and can see that great sympathetic heart wrung almost to the verge of suicide, but like all other widowers, he waltzed around with a crape on his hat, until he found an old maid who was willing to mother a lot of second-hand children with the prospect of adding to the stock as years advanced. This last enterprise yielded six more Bagleys-my God! Charley still lives, and a year ago, he sent the sketcher a photograph of himself and family, and says he, "dear Bob, I would have sent this months ago, but I was waiting for the eighteenth! Observe how sweetly my little Ami toys with her pet alligator, while Delphian is tugging at its tail; and that two hundred pounder on the left, with the bronze jewelry, is named 'Mattie,' in honor

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of our favorite, the gifted and accomplished 'Lady Montague' of our younger days."

Of the Amidelphian Society, only two remain in Upper Sandusky grandmother and the gray-headed fiddler.

THE EXODUS.

In 1848, the news came from the newly discovered El Dorado, that mountains of silver and valleys of gold were lying around loose, and that anybody with a mule and cart and a barrel of whisky could become a millionaire in a few days. All he had to do was to treat the natives, and haul away the metal. A few nuggets of gold were shown to our citizens by a fellow who strutted our Streets with a watch chain made of grizzly teeth, and that settled it. Bill Giles offered to sell or give a no printing office; old Andy McIlvain pulled down the blinds of the only aristocratic hotel we had; and other of our people refused their usual meals and tossed their better halves out of bed in wrestling with nightmares that were dropping down upon them whole tons of precious gold. They had it bad, and soon a party was formed to cross the plains. Bill Giles loaned the Pioneer office to his brother, Lige and Josiah Smith, and donned the dress and accouterments of a fighting guerrilla. He had Deacon McGill forge him three or four bowie knives out of rat-tail files, and with a revolutionary musket and a pocket cannon he announced his readiness to drive an ox-team or do the cooking on buffalo chips. Old Andy McIlvain wrapped himself in a blanket and said he was ready to ride in that ox. team and demolish the provender. Also waiting to join the caravan were Col. Aaron Lyle, William McIlvain, Swayne McIlvain and several others whose names we cannot call to mind, including a sprightly nigger, named Buck, who had been raised by the Garrets. This Buck, with the strength of Hercules, was active as a cat, and as saucy as he was active. A short distance out on the plains Buck a found with a hole through his head, and consequently it was supposed that he died suddenly for want of breath, but as it was only one nigger less for grizzly feed, the party moved on. Before the plains were overcome, poor Bill McIlvain, and that large generous hearted fellow, Col. Lyle, who was seeking health instead of gold, surrendered to the pale horse and his rider, and left their bones on the desert wastes of the Great West.

Bill McIlvain was a promising young man, about to enter the law, but blighted love for one who also felt the bitterness of the shock, made him less to do and dare, and his sad fate was more the result of piercing heart-throbs than the wreck of health from exposure.

Col. Lyle was a brilliant young lawyer, who came here from Lancaster, Ohio, with the Beerys; his long and severe application while a student had impaired his health, and the hectic flush that mingled with his smiles and good humor, was a warning which thrilled his friends with the gravest apprehensions. It was death to remain; an overland trip might revive a shattered constitution, and still make life the dream of his ambition; but hope in its struggle with disease soon ended in the death of that grand, good fellow, who was loved and esteemed by all our citizens.

Swayne McIlvain, after an experience of several weeks on the plains, got scared at a moccasin track, and took the first balloon for Sandusky. He denied the soft impeachment, giving as a reason for his sudden reappearance, "that father thought he had better go home and prepare a cave or two for the nuggets."

Of the party, Bill Giles and old Andy McIlvain drove their ox-team in is

516 - HISTORY OF WYANDOT COUNTY.

sight of the Pacific, and ordered the natives to bring out their gold dust if they wanted it panned out

Mcllvain, who had never done anything -in his life but bow to fellow-citizens from a hotel door, commencing at the American in Columbus, and ending with a house at Upper Sandusky, didn't believe in exercising the pick and shovel; but he would go into a hay speculation with Bill Giles, and he did. Andy got the profits, and Bill got the hay. Bill has still some of that crop on hand, and will get up on a fence and swear till the sulphur oozes down into his boots every time he passes a hay stack. After Bill had killed his Ingin, fought a grizzly, and started and published two papers in California, he returned to Upper Sandusky and resumed publication of the Pioneer.

Others, from time to time, left for the Golden State, among them our lar friend, William Bearinger. During the first excitement Mr. Bearinger had no idea of leaving his then prosperous business for allurements in the apparent verdure of far-off hills, but a dream unsettled his mind. He dreamed that he was in the heart of the Rockies, and was moving along gracefully on a pair of six-foot snow shoes, when all at once he came to a very stylish and fashionable gulch. He looked over the declivity and saw that he could slide down with comparative ease, and he did. At the bottom there was a lump of gold that he could just raise a little by straining several of his left ribs, and he gave them a twist. To carry it up the incline on snow shoes was impossible, and in the act of shouting for help, he woke up. He could still see, however, the beautiful gulch, the huge lump of gold at Its bottom, and the trees all around which he had blazed to mark the spot. He goes to Dr. McConnell, tells him his dream, anti asks for advice. " Go, by all means, air," said the doctor, "examine every hole in the Rockies; be are you don't miss a gulch; go sir, for if yon don't, that lump of gold will haunt you forever." So William started for the golden shore by way of the gulches, and found the identical spot that appeared to him in his dream. In a year or two he returned well pleased over his trip, with a sly wink that it had been agreeably successful.

Everybody thought he had that gold lump, and they would examine his left ribs to see if they were in a twist from heavy lifting, and would scratch around his shop at night to see where he had hid it, and would try to call William out on heavy articles; about how much a man could lift you know, without affecting the lower part of his thorax, and how much he couldn't, perhaps; and one follow would swear that no hunk of gold that ever was born would weigh 200 pounds; and that he would like to see the chunk of gold that he couldn't hold out at arms length, and he would bet William $50 that California wasn't much of a lace for big lumps of gold anyhow, and he never would believe some of them stories until he saw the nuggets." And then William would smile so aggravatingly, and tell the boys " to not be in a harry-'twasn't late yet," and then he would go to the shop window, and look out uneasily, se if he had something hid near the bark pile, while the boys would shy around on the other side of the fence and look for fresh dirt. So whether William's dream was ever realized is not known to this day. One thing is certain, he has never been out of humor since he returned from California, and the sketcher still thinks that

William found that monster nugget; that be has it hidden under some barn, and as soon as two or three more of our old fellows die, he'll dig it out and buy the town.

[Norm. -These sketches will embrace a full expose of the Sons of Malta,

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with amusing scenes connected with the initiation of Hon. R. McKelly, James G. Roberts, Col. S. H. Hunt, Gen. Kirby, Dr. Henderson, Dr. J. M. Rhoads, William Marlow, and other prominent parties, and will particularly indicate at what point in the ceremony these gentlemen were unable to hold their oats." Rich? Well, you can just bet. Nothing but a thousand dollar check will prevent the calamity.]

JOHN N. REED.

A pleasing character of our olden times was John N. Reed. He was one of the men designed by nature to be accommodating. Nothing pleased John well as to render his neighbor a service. He was truly a good old man living one day with the hope of existing the next; looking upon futurity so much space to enjoy life, and picking up what little jobs of painting that were strewed along his eventful pathway. John N. always wore a smile upon his face, unless a tender chord of sympathy was touched, and then a tear would glisten in that benevolent eye, weeping for every misfortune but his own. He filled his circle of usefulness well, but gained little beyond the pleasure it afforded him God made this class of men, and it part of His infinite wisdom.

At, the sick bed he was a ministering angel, rich in words of encourage tender care of a mother's gentle hand. He sought no reward e who found comfort in his presence, and when death came, his heart would share in the distress of bereaved friends. The world may have called John N. a thriftless fellow, but how barren it would be of kindly offices if such men did not exist. It takes a variety of people to form a world, and if the John N.'s had never risen to the surface, Earth, with all its Solomon's and its several Cleopatra's, would have been a failure.

John N. dropped into Upper Sandusky from Columbiana County, and had the honor of kicking out of his paint shop Gen. Morgan and Clement L. Vallandigham; for, although John was goodness itself, he would sometimes get mad when the little Morgans and Vallandigham would steal his putty to make marbles, sprinkle sand in his paint, and put a buy in his pantaloons where it would scratch the most good. But notwithstanding all this, John N. would frequently say that George and Val were the brightest little fellows he ever saw, always sleeping With one eye open to study up some devilment

As John N. and Bill Giles were from the same town, and as Bill was another of the bad little boys who assisted George and Val. in their depredations against the paint shop, the Pioneer office was John N.'s usual place of resort, and he and Bill would have it for hours in discussing old times. Bill couldn't think of, speak of, or suggest anything about New Lisbon or its people that wasn't perfectly familiar to John N. He was right on the spot when all the interesting incidents occurred, and helped to lay out the wounded, so to speak, if any laying out were necessary as a part of the recital. And when Bill inquired if he remembered the time when Lafayette quartered his troops on the common south of town, John N. was in raptures. "Didn't he? Oh, William, how you do revive old memories! Can 11 ever forget it! Did you never hear of me and Lafe going across the bridge to old Kate's and whipping an Englishman with a wart on his nose for calling Gen. Washington a coward? Washington a coward," says 1, " who fit the battle of Waterloo? And with that I knocked the Englishman into fragments; and the last I saw of Lafe, he was sweeping up the pieces for dog feed. Yes, William, I was a pretty active young man-a good deal

518 - HISTORY OF WYANDOT COUNTY.

like my Jimmie, when climbing for owns, or skirmishing at a primary election."

John N. was at one time our honored coroner. He presided with the dignity of true Statesmanship; and when a dead body was found, with the glamour of violence casting its witchery over the ghastly sight, John N. was among the stars, surrounded by a halo of hallelujahs, with angelic wings sprouting out from all parts of his body. Old, old was John, but a stiff unknown in death, with the mystery of terrible incidents, threw over him the enchanting spell of active youth, and he was everywhere in a minute, commanding reverence and consideration in the name of the law!

One beautiful Sabbath morning, the news came that a child was found in the river, toying with the ripples, a ghastly corpse! This intelligence illumined -the serene countenance of the old coroner, and before his toilet was made, he was at the banks of the Lower Ford, peering into its crystal depths for the misery which sprinkles life with so many sorrowful accounts He saw it-a dead babe! Very small, thought the Coroner, yet large enough to contain a human soul! It had scarcely caught a gleam of the beautiful sunlight, ere the pallor of death unfolded the glimpses of another world. "Oh, a beautiful babe," said the Coroner, and must I, must I, in my old age, d-n these careless girls, who steal into the balmy air at night to feast upon the deceptive watermelon." He gloated over the beautiful lineaments of the miniature corpse, as it glinted in the ripples and sunbeams, deploring the depravity of human nature when misfortune overtakes the wayward, every now and then casting a suspicious glance over the crowd of men to see if he could detect a resemblance. Presently, the dead remains were fished to shore under the artistic skill of the old Coroner. His delight was only equaled by his enthusiasm; and when some one suggested that it was hairy and very like a cat, his indignation knew no bounds. You could see by the beads of sweat that scintillated with prismatic power from his anxious and agitated brow that he was suffering the pangs of a terrible disappointment, but be fore he would give in, he appealed to the boys to look around among the bushes for a fur-coated Australian belle, who had broken loose from a sideshow, and put in the balance of the season in fooling around a camp-meeting. By this time, it was very apparent that the corpse was an unfortunate Maltese of tender growth which rude hands had cast into the river. For many days after, the boys would mew at the Coroner, but the graceful old man bore it all with the resignation of a martyr, frequently inviting them to the Blue Hall Corner for refreshments.

The old man, however, never fully recovered from this cat as ro it was ever after one of the clouds which shrouded his usual happy disposition.

In addition to being Coroner, he held for years the position of court. crier, and took a pleasurable delight in calling that body to order. It was generally in a sonorous voice of great volume: " Hear he, hear ye, hear ye, the Court of Common Pleas is now in session. Those who have causes to present, will now come forward and present them, and defendants must be in readiness at the call of the Judge. Lawyers may try their good looking divorce cases in the back room. At a pleasant wink, Col. Kirby will vacate the office and go across the street to see a man."

John N. would do without his meals most any time to be on hand to open and close the sessions of court. The position seemed to exalt his na. lure. and to miss one of these opportunities was to him a source of the deepest distress. One afternoon when the old gentleman was enjoying a com-

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fortable snooze, and the court and counsel were busily engaged in considering an interesting point in evidence, a wag tapped John N. on the shoulder and told him it was time to adjourn court. He immediately sprang to his feet, and rubbing his eyes, yelled at the top of his voice "Hear ye, hear ye, hear ye, the court" -bat the balance of the cry was lost in an outburst of laughter in which the court and bar joined with -a hearty zest. It was the most mortifying blow that ever befell John N., and it took him four hours to explain to Judge Bowen the cause of his drowsiness and at what particular point in his dream the impudent follow tapped him upon the shoulder. The Judge intimated that he might go this time, but if he ever indulged in such another disturbance there would be a dead court crier.

John N. remained court crier until the rebellion broke out when he went into the service as body-guard to Col. McCutchen. He came back flush with honors and took up his residence at Kirby where he died a few years after. He was a good old man who had a feeling of friendship for everybody, and against whom no one ever uttered a harsh word.

[NOTE-Sketch, No. 211, by request, contains a graphic account of Rappe's Wagon Trade with the Indian-" Maybe Canton, maybe no Canton -heap black stripe on hub, dam lie-foot Ingin." McGregor, of the Stark County Democrat, has offered a thousand dollars for the exclusive right to publish this sketch, but Mack is wasting his spirit of enterprise, as this "American Author " writes only for THE UNION.]

OUR FIRST CONSTABLE.

Faded, perhaps, from the memory of most of our people, is the jovial face of one, who was somewhat conspicuous here in early days. He was dressed in the brief authority of Constable, and one of the first that honored the township of Crane. He was a small man, a little stooped in the shoulders, with a red face that sported a sharp nose, and a pair of eyes that winked continually an assumption of knowledge on all points and phases connected with his official duties. He could write his name, as a parrot asks for a cracker, and further in the routine of educational exploits he could do but little; what he lacked in early advantages was more than made up in that peculiar cunning which follows the van of adventure, and what he did not know he never hesitated to assume. trusting to luck and that genius which enables nature to overcome obstacles. He was a pleasant fellow so gifted in his habits, that he he could render the asperities of his authority with such a degree of suavity, that you could lose your last cow, by the virtue and force of a remorseless execution, and yet feel a pleasurable delight in his presence. When those impenetrable eyes were not winking, they were weeping, not over the trials and vicissitudes of his own life, but over the unpleasantness of his position in being compelled to oppress his neighbor and fellow-citizen; yet, he always made it a point to add a score of mileage to his costs to cover any little discrepancy his benevolent nature may have overlooked in its struggle with sympathy. Was he popular? There were few so well and pleasingly favored; and had he remained here a hundred years, and vacillated to all points of the political compass, he would still have ornamented our little writs of process with "S. Riggins, Constable."

He was familiarly called "Sam," and seemed to relish this simple attachment to his name, although his official signature was never failing in the inevitable "S." He seemed to take peculiar pride in that twisted capital, which he painted rather than wrote, allowing the Riggins to take care

520 - HISTORY OF WYANDOT COUNTY.

of itself. His ambition in the science of chirography commenced and end with the capital " S. " The Riggins was a mere pastime of a few hieroglyphics.

Naturally, one of Sam's exultant disposition created in many a desire to put it to the test. He was known to be alert in everything that came under his notice, or to his knowledge by virtue of his official position so one night, a messenger, white with excitement. informed him, in a voice choked with consternation, that a murder had been committed at Allen Sane's grocery; that the ghastly corpse was still dripping with blood, and that the murderer armed with a corn-cutter was standing over the inanimate form, defying arrest. Did Samuel pale before this picture of desperation, and complain of an uneasiness below his vest? Nothing of the kind. He immediately jumped into his boots and was flying for the scene of carnage before he had arranged his toilet. The messenger who carried his coat while Sam was fooling with his shirt collar abstracted his revolver and replaced it with a corn-cob. Sam threw on his coat as he came to Sane's door, and bursting in, saw a sight that was calculated to freeze the blood of any ordinary mortal. The ruffian with a corn-cutter dripping with blood was still brandishing it over the prostrate body of his victim, and threatening death to any one who came within reach. Sam placed himself before the murderer, and with the power vested in him by the statutes in such case made and provided, demanded a surrender in the name of the State of Ohio. "The State of Ohio be d-d, " said the murderer, making a bloody thrust at the Constable. At this breach of respect for an officer of the law, Sam pulled his revolver to find it a corn-cob! Here was a predicament that the Constable had not contemplated. He was defenseless before an infuriated outlaw, armed with a corn-cutter, and with one victim already dead at his feet! But Sam hesitated at nothing. He flew at the giant, grasped his sturdy right arm, and in a short struggle, wrenched the weapon from his hand. Sam. was now the victor and radiant with triumph. The murderer must strip and submit to a search under the uplifted corn-cutter, which Sam now flourished over his head. To this demand, the murderer quietly submitted, when about 250 pounds of Allen Sane tumbled out of the disguise. By this time, Red Thread, who was playing corpse on the floor, got up and made for the long-necked bottle, that served as a kind of free lunch during preparations for this little drams which was " to take in, do up, and demolish the Constable." In Sam, however, they had caught a tartar. He had demonstrated that there was no lacking of pluck, even in a Constable; and if 'it hadn't been for the happy exchange, in which a corncob took the place of Sam's revolver, there might -have been a very funny dead man with a very solemn funeral.

Allen was graceful enough to acknowledge that he was disappointed, and that he felt it his duty to set it up for the boys whenever Sam should order it.

You see, gentle reader, it was all made up to "owe Sam out of his boots," because Sam, when a little full, would sometimes boast of his courage, and how he brought this and that fellow to time when disposed to be a little ugly. Allen Sane, to have some fan and to take the conceit out of Sam," submitted to the decorative art and was patched up to represent a formidable specimen of the. plug-ugly. He induced Red Thread to