Allen County, Ohio - Chapter 6: A Chapter of Reminiscences, 1906

Chapter 6: A Chapter of Reminiscences

Deer Hunting in Luna - - A Great Nimrod - Samuel McClure and the Honey - Josh Hover's Pranks - Friendly Intercourse zoith the Indians - Fun at School - An Old-Time Political J ollihcation - The Pioneer Gentlemen in Full Dress - Pauper Poor Sold at Auction - A Pioneer School Teacher - "Caesar and the Devil's Gait" - Going to Mill - An Experience zvith Fire-Water - Quilna, the Friend of the White Man - Mrs. Baxter and the Soap - Judge Metcalf and His Virginia Story - An Accident to the Supreme Court - Dr. Baxter's Famous Accounts of Lima's First Circus and of The Democratic Ox Roast - Recollections of E. T. Cole - -Robb's Revenge - The First Allen County Fair - The Old

The old settler, in the matter of tall stories, distances all competitors. A pioneer who has not an Indian, panther, or wolf story, which for blood-curdling details surpasses all other stories of the like, is not a pioneer worthy of the name.

It was the writer's good fortune to come upon a party of these "old boys," while they were holding a festival of reminiscences. "What's come o' old man so and so?" and "Don't you recollect" prefaced all remarks. And then the stories - I cannot begin to recollect the half of them, but I caught several that may serve to "drive dull care away" for a few minutes at least. It is impossible to give you the animated faces and hearty laughter of these "lads" of the proverbial three score and ten. No "old fellow had got mixed with the boys." The years had rolled back and they were 20 again, back in the golden age of their lives.

All of these men had slain the graceful deer, and had hobnobbed with "Lo" in his native simplicity, before he, for gold, had humbled himself to become a part of the "great and only Wild West." They had fought their country's battles, with credit to themselves and great discomfiture to their foes. Of these famous Nimrods few are left to tell the stirring tales of early days.

As late as 1834, Daniel Musser killed two deer on the present site of Lima ; one where the factory of The Deisel-Wemmer Company now stands, the other where the old West School Building stood. Joseph Ward shot two deer one evening within a few minutes of each other, and Mr. Williams, our first mayor - who was the sportsman par excellence of the town - mentions in his diary the killing of a deer with 13 prongs to its antlers. Hunting consumed much valuable time, but the law of compensation was as active then as now and the balsamic odors of the woods, the clear blue of the sky, the beautiful verdure of the meadows could not have failed to have a salutary effect upon the huntsman.

lustrate the benefits of such a life than he. His whole being seemed a part of Nature. He was a rare pantheist and his life was a continued thanksgiving that the world had been so kind.

During the first year or two of our settlement there was little else to do besides hunt. The men often spent a great deal of time hunting bee trees. These trees were hollow and were filled with honey left by the wild bees. The trees were cut down, the honey strained and used. Mr. Ward's father shipped two barrels of honey to Urbana, for which he received 50 cents a gallon. Samuel McClure found a great lot of honey which was not fit to eat, and he made it into a drink called "methelgin," which affected one as quickly as whisky and in somewhat the same way. It is needless to say it was a prime favorite with the Indians.

Josh Hover was the greatest of wags. There was nothing he would not do when bantered to, and no reminiscence would be complete without one or two of Josh's pranks. He is a bright spot on the mental horizon of the "oldest inhabitant." One day when the rain was descending in that peculiarly steady and soaking fashion common in this locality, Cole Pangle made the offer of half a dollar to any one who would go out and sit in the middle of the Square for half an hour. Josh got up, filled and lighted his pipe, took his chair, and proceeded to earn his 50 cents.

The Indians as a rule were very friendly to the whites and particularly so to the young boys of the settlement. W. H. C. Mitchell used to accompany them on their hunting expeditions when he was but a lad of seven or eight years. When he became tired, the chief Quilna would carry him on his back. The Indian traded with the settler much to the advantage of the latter; often in exchange for a cup of salt, the settler would receive an entire deer.

When Pht or Fallen Timber died, the entire male population for miles around attended his funeral. The chief was buried near the old Council House in Shawnee township. His wife and daughter dug the grave; split puncheons were used for a coffin, and a large number of trinkets were cast into the grave. After the burial, a beef was killed and a feast held after the custom of the Indians. Mr. Mitchell, together with his father and some neighbors, took dinner at the home of Little Fox, and Mr. Mitchell says it was as good a meal as he ever ate.

When Mr. Richardson taught school in an old building where A. N. Smith's foundry afterward was, the pupils had some merry times. Geese at that stage in the town's development ran at will over the village and were regarded as common property; the first one getting the eggs possessed them in fee simple. One old goose had a nest in the shavings under Edmund S. Linn's wood-pile, where Musser's house afterward stood. One noon the boys and girls saw the goose go onto her nest, but as luck would have it the academy bell just the a pealed out its unwelcome call to duty and the children were compelled to obey the summons, as the schoolmaster was a stern disciplinarian, whose word was law. But there was little studying done that afternoon. Had the goose been of the golden egg variety, she would not have been the subject of greater solicitude. As soon as school was dismissed there was a stampede made for the nest, Will Watt and Pauline Tompkins taking the lead. After a struggle short but exciting, Watt won, and taking the prize home he cooked it, generously dividing it with his brother Jack.

In 1848 when the Whig President, Zachary Taylor, was elected, there was a jollification meeting held in the Public Square, conducted by W. H. C. Mitchell. They had a gum sycamore tree, 10 barrels of tar and three or four loads of fire-balls. It was near midnight and most of the crowd had dispersed. Hance Crookstan, his brother Tom. Miller Soules, George Saint, E. P. and E. S. Cole, Jake Watt and little Sammie Baxter with a few others were still on the ground waiting, as did the immortal Micawber, "for something to turn up." Unlike that unfortunate gentleman's experience, what they waited for did happen and in this wise : An old one-horse wagon came in sight filled with a crowd of fellows who at once began to bother the town boys and wanted to fight. The captain of the crowd got down from the wagon and said he would whip the

"hull" crowd. The boys after a council of war -decided to accept the challenge. Six or eight .armed themselves with stones and because he was the youngest and the smallest they put Baxter forward to give the lie1 to their opponents. Samuel stepped to the front and 3relled, "You lie and dassent take it up" and then the fun began. The captain landed several telling blows on poor Baxter, whereupon there -developed a general free-for-all fight. 1 he -doughty captain was pounded into something bearing a strong resemblance to j elljy. His friends put him into the wagon and started for Allentown. The next day he left for Wisconsin and has never been heard of since.

The pioneer gentlemen in full dress made a handsome picture - "Solomon in all his glory -was not arrayed like one of these." There was .the blue broadcloth coat with brass buttons, white vest, yellow buckram trousers, low shoes, white socks, white beaver hat, and a black silk stock about four inches high around the neck, surmounted by a white collar. The was pretty, was always constructed of the richest material, was very generally worn and always accompanied by a gold-headed cane.

In those days there was no County Infirmary, nor comfortable Children's Home and it frequently happened that the pauper poor - men, women and children - were sold at auction at the door of the Court House in Lima.

Rev. Constant Southworth taught a winter term of school in the Presbyterian Church in 1836-37, which was in some respects at least .the counterpart of Dickens' "Dotheboy's Hall." On warm days he brought a yoke of oxen to school, with which he demonstrated natural philosophy. After warming up the boys and oxen, by having them hustle the logs about on the adjacent lots, the pupils were treated to learned dissertations on the inclined plane, and many more interesting things which, no doubt, failed to make a lasting impression upon the youthful minds of the day. Mr. Southworth combined, with this practical school of his, instruction on the peripatetic plan, for while the boys were plowing the girls took lessons in botanv. which consisted in roaming at will

The following story of Dr. Cunningham is one which illustrates the dry humor of the man : After an arduous day's work he was summoned to make a call five miles away. His horse, having gone hard all day, did not start out with the, alacrity the messenger wished, who called out: "Doc, you must ride like the devil, she's awful sick." "Well," replied the Doctor, "I don't know his gait, but you try it, and old Caesar and I will try to imitate you the best we can."

In 1843 or j844 the creek had gone dry as it often did in the summer. The water-mills had stopped grinding and the people went hungry until the horse or ox-mills did the grinding. One day the bread gave out at the home of John Fay and David, one of the boys, had shelled the corn and started out early in the morning with the corn loaded on horseback, toward Carnes' mill, some seven miles distant, northeast of Lima. David had to wait all day for his flour, and left the mill just at dusk. He was a timid child and the prospect was anything but pleasant. The way lay through a dense forest most of the distance, and the report that a panther had been seen lurking in that part of the country added to the terror of his night's ride; every rustle of the leaves, every sound in the underbrush, had the effect of raising the poor boy's hair on his head. The little fellow got safely home, and no doubt the necessity of doing his duty, although it was hard, prepared him for many experiences in after life. It was in such a school that these early settlers were trained, and it developed in them that sterner stuff from which heroes are made.

Cooking in the pioneer families was done by means of a fireplace. Ask any old settler, and he will tell you that nothing can rival in flavor the corn cakes spread on a board and baked before the fire.

The following story is told of "Lo," which goes to confirm the saying that the only good Indian is a dead one. One day in the fall of 1841, attention was attracted by a noise in the rear of Musser's tavern. Upon investigation there was discovered an Indian who had taken a drop too much of fire-water, and the mental aberration induced thereby caused him to rest his head between the two upper bars of the gate. He was slowly but surely choking to death, being too far gone to assist himself in the least. He bellowed like the scriptural bull of Bashan, and his roaring aroused the cattle in the adjoining stables who caught up the refrain, and pandemonium reigned supreme. The noise brought all the people in the village, both Indians and whites, to the scene, and as soon as it was ascertained what the matter was, the captive was released and went on his way, if not exactly rejoicing, a sadder and a wiser man.

Mathias H. Nichols, vividly remembered by but few, was perhaps the brightest as well as the most prominent citizen of the county 50 years ago. He was nominated and elected to Congress at 26 years of age and was twice reelected.

Nichols used to tell this story: He was traveling through the country on horseback, when at an awful mud-hole lie found Leatherman sitting in a horseless buggy sound asleep. After considerable effort he aroused the sleeper. Rubbing his eyes, Leatherman remarked: "Well, Nick, if I'm Mike Leatherman, I've lost a horse. If I'm not Mike Leatherman, Eve found a buggy.''

Leatherman and John Collett occupied the same office. In order that each might have a key they put two locks on the door. Mike went out, locked the door and John crawled out the window.

Quilna, one of the Indians, was a very smart and crafty old man. Mr. Breese made a bargain with the old chief whereby he was to give Quilna a hog in exchange for a deer, which was to be a young fat doe.

Quilno killed the deer, but hung it in the woods for two or three days until it commenced to turn. The hog therefore was not forthcoming. Mr. Breese explained why he did not want the deer, but Quilna pretended not to understand. "He fat," said the chief. "Yes," responded Mr. Breese. "He doe." "Very true," admitted Breese. "He young," continued the Indian. "Yes, I'll admit that, but I don't want it, it's bad, it doesn't smell good." Quilna seemed sunk in a deep quandary, but finally gave a grunt of satisfaction, saying, "Ah, me know, he too dead." in the same dwelling. Mrs. Baxter had an old woman who used to come and help her about the house. She never demanded cash payment for her labors but always wanted some commodity in exchange for her toil. As she finished one day, Mrs. Baxter said: "Well, Auntie, what shall I give you for your day's work?" The old lady said she would like to have some soap with which to wash her clothes. Mrs. Baxter responded that she had no good soap, that what she had come from the ashery and made the clothes yellow. Mrs. Meily, hearing the conversation, sent downstairs by her daughter Olivia (afterward Mrs. Calvin S. Brice) some soap which she had just made. Mrs. Baxter took the soap, and turning to the old lady said : "Auntie, the Lord has heard you and sent you some soap." "Why, he didn't, either," said the child, "my mother sent it." She did not propose that Providence should get the credit that was due her mother.

The late Judge Metcalf would relate the following: Under the ancient regime in good old Virginia, the mother of States and of lawyers, the fundamental law of that Commonwealth raised the senior justice of the peace of the county to the dignity of sheriff. An old gentleman. who had passed through the several grades of justice and finally attained to the office of sheriff, determined to cast his lot across the border on Ohio soil and engage in law practice. With this view, and under the impression that by virtue of the official experience above mentioned, he would be competent to discharge the duties of an attorney before any Ohio court, he confidently demanded admission to the bar in the county he had selected for his residence. He was advised, however, that under the Ohio system it would be necessarv to pursue a course of study with a preceptor, which would entitle him in due form to be admitted to the bar. He accordingly entered his name but being under the firm conviction that he possessed a better knowledge of law than the Ohio attorneys he put very little time in study. At the end of the two years he presented himself to the committee of the bar. A few questions relating to elementary principles of law were put to him which he was unable to answer satisfactorily. The Virginian, finally, in much perplexity observed : "I tell you what it is, gentlemen, I never did pretend to be much of a Blackstun lawyer, but you once take me on the Virginny statoots, and you'll find me thar." He retired from the disgusting ordeal in high and dignified dudgeon.

YVhen an early term of the Supreme Court was held at Findlay, Judge Wood presiding, he in company with the usual partv of lawyers left Findlay for Defiance and Kalida. Their law-books, papers, etc., were carried around with them and were packed in saddle-bags, which were thrown across the backs of the horses. At a certain house they halted to get some water to wash down their "drink." Hitching their horses to the outside of the fence, the party went inside the yard. One of the horses reached his nose over and upset a bee-hive which stood pust inside, upon which ensued a lively scene. The horses made for "tall timber," scattering saddle-bags and contents far and wide. The court pursued the fugitive horses, recovering them only after much delay and racing through the woods and after much fretting and fuming. The "library," saddle-bags, and bridles also, had suffered much damage.

It was in August of 1850, just 55 years ago this month, that the coming of the first circus caused such a flutter of excitement throughout Lima. The bill posters came into the little straggling village without warning one summer morning, and by night their wonderful banners were on the outer walls of the whole town.

drawing was not so artistic, nor the blending of the colors so harmonious as critics of the present day might demand, but in that happier time they left nothing to be desired.

It really seemed that every dead wall, every fence, every surface which could carry a poster had been drafted into service; and there was a gorgeous, bewildering, extravagant, but delirious promise of joy, wherever the eye might turn.

How well I remember those pictures; the three stupendous elephants, dancing in an apparent delight, which tallied with the genuine pleasure they inspired; the great golden chariot, which linked this coming marvel with the magnificence of King David; William Strong, the daring four-horse rider, who set the older boys to trying such feats as cost them many a fall ; Yankee Sullivan, the great American clown, who was funny even in this counterfeit presentment.

And there were ponies so small and so beautiful that it seemed not impossible that they might trot right down from their place in the printed bills to become our pets and companions. There were acrobats doing feats which the Hercules of that distant day confessed himself unable to accomplish.

Ihere were pictured young women with skirts astonishingly short, and with such wealth of gauzy finery as convinced us that they must be more than human. Men stood and gazed at these posters, forgetting that circuses were most immoral. Children ran away from school and crept with some difficulty through the groups of men about the bill-boards. Women. for once, like the Priest and the Levite, passed by on the other side, and only the bravest among them glanced across, for they might not expect the rewards of virtue if they shared the delights of sin.

The circus came from the West. Allentown, four miles out, was the gathering point for scores of young men that morning. It was the home of Major General Blackburn, commander of the Militia in Northwestern Ohio, and the circus must pass his place. That welcoming delegation, that escort company, was an excited throng. Wagers were offered that the mighty elephants would break through the bridge at Hog Creek, and all were sadly disappointed when the intelligent creatures took to the water, waded across and continued their journey.

The country was new. Forests stretched endlessly in every direction. The roads kept to the high places where possible, finding security at the expense of distance, or when a swamp must be crossed the cheap device of corduroys jolted the vehicles to firmer ground.

The escort company came hurrying along with the elephants and wagons, keeping alongside, commenting between breaths and telling to their belated comrades the sights they had seen.

Ah ! What a crowd was there ! Where they came from in that day of scattered settlements, I cannot understand. Perhaps there were not so many as there seemed. But it was a host - and every member was devoted to a day of pleasure unalloyed.

Will Watt had no money ; but his native ingenuity got him on the enchanted ground, and into the enchanted tent and his native fortitude carried him through the walloping that followed when the day was done. Martha Richardson's father took her to the "show," and she has confessed in later years that she has never been nearer Heaven than on that wondrous day.

It was a fair morning and the young women wore their finery. The young men dressed in their Sunday clothes. They strolled about the unpaved streets, went in and out of the meagre stores, fell into groups and greeted friends; but mainly kept the big flapping tent of the circus in sight.

Some of the men drank more than they should. Some tried their luck at games and tricks which shrewd strangers brought, and were despoiled of their money. But when the moment came for opening the doors, all common things were forgotten in the rush for entrance. There was a strange mass about the ticket wagon, where a most deft man made change, and then it was a nervous excited column, kept into limits by the waist-high ropes and directed through the labyrinths of canvas to the new world of a circus interior.

Before the tardy ones came in, the rain began to fall. It was a mild and unimportant shower at first, then it swelled into a storm, and the drenching sluices of the rain poured against the tent. The wind blew but not enough to frighten. And in this wonderland the show went on. In the precious half hour that preceded the play, we wandered about and looked at the "great menagerie." It must have been slender enough in all conscience, but everything was wonderful.

And when the seats were filled, when all the unbacked benches stretching in a rising slope from earth to the distant wind-swept eaves of the tent were occupied, there came that blast of music from the band, and then the "Grand Entrance." The women with silks and velvets and much finery, with cheeks marvelously red, and with a grace unspeakable, the pien in coats of gorgeous hue, with gold and silver lavishly adorning them, the horses with such saddles and such bridles as Northwestern Ohio had not seen, the band with melodies that finished and completed all our transports of delight, and the circus had begun. The strident cries of the impertinent young men, selling confections or summer drinks, had ceased. The wind might blow, the rain might fall, the world might cease its revolution, nothing could disturb the deep and rooted fascination of the show. The feats of jugglery; the man who rode the four horses and lashed them till they seemed to fly like light about the ring; the strong man who challenged any one to lift his weights ; the women who rode horses and blew kisses from their fingertips to the young men best attended. No one can tell it all. It is not a thing of earth to be reduced to ink and type.

And it was all over at last. The clown had sung his last song and had "cracked" his last joke. The boy with his candies and the sharper with his tools were again at work. But the crowd drifted past them. Women were drenched, for the rain had come through the canvas which may have been rent and torn. Men were muddy, and not so patient as they might have been. The ground outside was spongy from the storm, and trodden into mire by unnumbered feet. The drooping horses, waiting shelterless, were ready for the heavy home journey.

And then came the hour for settling scores. Boys who ran away must pay the penalty. Women who had gone must pass the gauntlet of reproving eyes as they hurried home with feathers draggled. Men who knew it was immoral must make apologies as they could. It was rather the greater half of the price they paid.

And then the circus ground next day !- Sand's Circus was way to the east - maybe Sandusky way. But there was the common earth which had been Elysian fields but yesterday. The ring was marvelously smaller. The pegs were still standing in many places. The great hole where the center pole had stood was now filled with water. But from these meagre things we reconstructed in fancy the marvel of it all. We came in at the place where a maze of canvas walls had been confused as yesterday. We ran about the ring which was almost hallowed ground but yesterday. And we explored the spaces where the "dressing room," mystery of mysteries, had stood. We picked up relics of the great event. A jack knife some swain had dropped; a breast pin which some lady was regretting, and one boy won enduring fame by finding, near where the ticket wagon had been, a soaked and rumpled dollar bill.

The city of Lima has long been distinguished or the number of professional men who have become leading citizens, and an example is found in the late Samuel A. Baxter, who was born in Washington County, Maryland, September 26, 1807, and was a son of Samuel A. Baxter.

Carolinas will meet Baxters in every community, most frequently in the professions, and these undoubtedly came from the same old English stock, whence descended the late Samuel A. Baxter. In his early youth the boy learned the trade o'f hatter and furrier, one which required both taste and skill, when all the work was done by hand. That he was unusually competent was demonstrated by the fact of a position seeking him instead of his seeking the place. While purchasing a stock of goods for his employer, in an Eastern city, his thorough knowledge of the business so impressed a hatter and furrier of Lancaster, Ohio, who was there on the same errand, that he offered the management of his business to the competent young man. The latter accepted and hastened to make his arrangements. It is related that as another young man was making the same trip they arranged that one horse should carry them both, they alternately riding and walking.

When Mr. Baxter reached Lancaster, he was pleased with the prospect offered, took charge of the business and subsequently purchased it. However, while succeeding materially as well as he could expect, his ambitions were not satisfied, his aspirations leading to a professional life. Meeting with encouragement from that able lawyer, Ex-Governor William Medill, he began to study law in the intervals, when business duties permitted. In 1838 he came to Lima, still carrying his law books with his hat boxes, and opening a hat store here he still pursued his law studies, supplementing them with a winter of lectures in Cincinnati. He was admitted to the bar in 1847, having closed out his mercantile interests in the previous year. From that time until the close of his busy life, he continued in the practice of the law at Lima, reaching a considerable degree of distinction. He became a man of large property interests, was thoroughly identified with all the city's public enterprises and was noted for his largesses to the poor.

The Democratic Ox Roast

I one time heard Sam Jones, the notorious, if not famous, lecturer, say to a magnificent audience that "he had been a Democrat as long as any decent, self-respecting, upright, honest Christian gentleman could be a Democrat, and then he left the party."

As usual there was a loud-mouthed fellow in the audience who yelled out, "and turned Republican." To which Sam made quick reply, "No ; thank God, I was never mean enough to be a Republican."

Well, the conditions Sam named for leaving the Democratic party have not been quite reached from my standpoint, although they often get pretty close to the edge. I am, at least, near enough to my old love to claim the privilege of not spoiling a story because it's my own tribe and kindred.

Being a farmer myself, I claim the farmer's privilege of calling things by their right names in this talk; and shall so do. You will learn, however, before this thing is finished, that my idea of farm life is not so hilarious as that of the little boy who came out from town to spend a few days with his uncle, over here on the Auglaize, and wrote to his anxious mother :

"I got here all right, but I forgot to write before. A feller and I went out in a boat and the boat tipped over and a man got me out. I was so full of water that I didn't know anything for a long time. The other boy has to be buried after they find him. A horse kicked me over and I've got to have some money for fixin' my head. We are goin' to set a barn on fire to-night, and I should smile if we don't have some bully fun. I am goin' to bring home a tame wood-chuck if I can get him in my trunk." deal lighter. Already we have the telephoner electric lines, mail delivery, and now some fellow says that invention of the Devil, that thing that was conceived in iniquity, born in sin and that has given rise to more profanity and is a greater nuisance than all the Canada thistles that ever sprouted - the Automobile - is to be our very best friend.

That is where I draw the line. Only think of it; after we have plowed all day, or raked the hay in the meadows gay, from early morn to close of day, we can, instead of going; to bed, don our automobile clothes, jump into our "Red Devil," "White Destroyer" or "Blue. Demon," and whirl away to the town or city,, where the beer Hows freely and the mint julep; sheds its fragrance on the air. We can enter the club and have a, game of checkers or poker,, according to taste, discuss the political situation, get home in time to go to bed before breakfast, while the "auto" can be attached to the family churn, or grindstone or feed cutter,, thus utilizing its power day or night.

When these suggestions are acted on by the farmers, a nice, tame, gentle, kindly disposed automobile will be worth more than, all the other stock on the farm.

A 33d degree pioneer, having lived heresince the beginning of time so far as I amconcerned, and hoping to stay until the day of judgment so far as I am concerned, I claim the privilege of telling my pioneer story in my own way. and in accordance with exact facts.

What? And go through the mumps',, measles, itch, stumped toes, stone bruises, boils where I sit down, toothache, worms and ague; work on old Elliott's farm for board, clothes and three months' schooling in winter; get upat 4 a. m., walk out to the barn through the lovely, oozey mud and so forth, and feed the sweet pigs and squeeze a little milk out of dear old "bossy:" split half a cord of wood and pile it in the kitchen; eat with the appetite of a roaring lion a delightfully informal breakfast of leathery flap-jacks and fried pig; flee again as a bird to the barn, yoke up the oxen and harrow the sea of mush known as the "back 40" before dinner; gulp down some more pig, hot biscuit half-done and half pearl ash, and repeat the harrowing process in the afternoon ?

To live over again all that species of humming bird gossip, that travels with eagle wings and has a voice like a fog-horn, and that has caused more trouble than all the bedbugs, ticks, fleas, lice, flies, mosquitoes, rattlesnakes, grass-hoppers and blizzards this great United States have ever known, or will know when the universe shuts up shop and begins the final invoice. From these manifold evils, O Lord, deliver your humble servant.

To have to learn over again how many kinds of a fool a fellow can be and not half try. No! No! It would be a bore to travel again the weary, tortuous road, more especially if one would have to be haunted his allotted time by the memory of that famous Democratic ox roast.

Never heard of the "ox roast?" Why that event will go down in history, and is one of the things that happened in my career, that whenever memory is mean enough to "hike" back to it makes me feel like accepting at any time, Gabriel's bugle-call with perfect satisfaction.

The campaign was an exciting one, and both parties were well lined up for the fray. At the north end of the Square floated the proud pennant of pure Democracy at the tip of a tall hickory - at the south end, the opposition bade defiance from an equally tall ash.

An amiable rivalry, a desire to outdo the other fellows, alas and alack, an o'erweening ambition to do things up so magnificently that our political opponents would bow their heads in sorrow, resulted in Democracy's humiliation and their rivals' exultation.

talk; couldn't fling beautiful sentences, rounded periods, flights of eloquence and freaks of oratory from his tongue's end on slight provocation, but he could invent ways and methods for entertaining crowds and influencing voters.

He is with us to-day, loved, honored and respected. When he is laid away, it can be said of him what can be said of few of us. "The world was better by reason of his having lived."

Instigated by the Devil, or having looked at the new moon over his left shoulder or met a cat on the stair-case, Editor Dave Fisher of the Allen County Democrat , published an account of a Kentucky barbecue.

The description of the fragrant burgoo, the juicy joints of meat, the good bread and butter, the fine tasting pickles and the aroma from the steaming coffee, made Uncle Sam Collins' mouth water, and he resolved on a grand Democratic rally, an ox roasted whole, the crowning event, the multitude fed and another glorious Democratic victory in little Allen.

With much sign of importance and a large draping of dignity, preliminaries were held in which committees were appointed and glory was bundled up in small packages to be delivered to the heads of the Sanhedrim.

Your humble servant was assigned to the "COMMITTEE ON BANQUET," with large capital letters, the accessories in outrage being Sam Collins, Dave Fisher, Bill Richardson and Jim Townsend, the last named being then a young and tender but most promising statesman, with buds all over him that seemed ready to burst into full bloom at the very next refreshing political shower, and who was largely responsible for the whole "blasted" business.

In view of subsequent events, as has already been shadowed forth in this story, I can say in all truthfulness that right then and there would have been a good time for me to have taken passage with old Charon across the river Styx, or any other wet boundary between this and the "Big Divide." how, and when one has to be haunted all the way through a busy and bothersome life with such memories as of that ox roast, it is one too many horses on him - night horses at that.

That things might be done in perfect style, and worth while, we sent a commissioner down to Kentucky to secure the services of a real live Kentucky colonel, who knew all about the barbecue business and then some more.

He came, and he was "IT." He was for several days the advance agent of the show. He was tall and typical. His frock coat and broad slouch hat, his high-heeled boots and spring-bottomed trousers, his long and rebellious black hair, his able-bodied and roseate

The Kentucky Colonel

What he did not know about roasting an ox bad yet to be dug out of the opaque hereafter. He buttoned his coat about bis manly chest, told of his "pusn'l acquaintance" with Tom Marshall, Henry Clay, George D. Prentice, and other great men of that land of orators and oratory, beautiful women, fast horses and bourbon whiskey, but boasted especially of his friendship for "Harry of the West," the greatest orator of them all ; for Marshall, the wit and "ablest drinkah on earth," and particularly for Prentice, "who notwithstanding his opposition to Democracy finally saw the error of his way, and was the most remarkable editor that evah slung a quill, suh."

In the hiatus between the glimpses of glory and the awful sequel, the Colonel, a personification of self-satisfied and yet unobtrusive conceit, spent the greater part of his time at old Mad Anthony's saloon, swallowing processions of whiskey straights and chasing them down with rear guards of anything else that was "spirituous."

The time was September, in one of those seasons when the summer had laid up an overplus of hot weather to be crowded into the end of dog days. It was intensely hot - that kind of hot that only comes in September when all the earth is parched, cracked, dry, dusty, dirty, when vegetable decay has reached its zenith, nasty hot - that kind of hot that makes one feel mean enough to say ugly things to his mother-in-law, when perspiration will neither dry up nor wipe off, when dogs are too lazy to hunt a bone, when chickens crawl under the barn too indolent to cackle and inform their husbands when they have laid an egg ; so hot that you wish you might sit in your bones ; so blankety hot, that hell , as described by my Hard-shell Baptist friend, lost all its terrors.

The slaughter house was over in the northwestern part of town, on the Cairo road. There was no effort made in those day to utilize any part of an animal except the solid meat ; all other parts were tumbled wherever most convenient for them to land, and the whole field was covered with an assortment of heads, hoofs, horns, legs and inwards. Oh, it was the sight and the scent of a lifetime.

In the midst of this boneyard, this morgue, this charnel field, this everything that was nasty, our Kentucky Colonel had a pit dug. filled with dry hickory wood which was burned down into a fine mass of coals, and then the ox. a magnificent animal from the Hefner

That Kentucky Colonel was a "beaut." We soon found that he thought all whiskey was good, only some was a little better. During his respective spasms, he varied the stuffing of the ox's "innards." When his drinks came from Henry Beck's, a German, he would put in onions, cabbage and garlic. When from Dennis Collins', an Irishman, he would add sweet and Irish potatoes. When from Mad Anthony's, a Frenchman, he would compound a kind of vegetable hash, a potpourri, and dump them in on top. The result was that he had vegetables in all stages, rare, medium, steamed, baked, boiled, broiled, fricasseed, underdone, overdone, not done at all and done up brown.

About the second day of the cooking process, that fellow had a pretty well defined case of "snakes," in fact a whole menagerie, and was laid away in the fence corner - the committee itself bordering on "jim jams."

The middle of the third day, "Old Kentuck" (we had dropped the Colonel) resurrected and pronounced the roasting completed. We didn't dispute it - what was the use? We knew it was either done or ripe but couldn't tell which.

Elaborate preparations had been made for an imposing procession, a kind of grand entry to the Public Square, where the ox was to stand in stately array, to receive the plaudits of the people at the meeting next day.

All the red, white and blue tissue paper in the town had been festooned over a truck ; four prancing chargers had been brought in from George Fetter's stone quarry; Bill Pangle was to handle the ribbons and Gus Feiss was to ride ahead on Ben Faurot's jack, blow a horn and announce the coming of Ox Rex or Rex Ox.

In arranging for the grand parade, a part of the program was to be a chariot load of girls representing the different States, and as a centerpiece the Goddess of Liberty.

One of the nice features was that these young misses were all selected without reference to politics - women didn't vote in those days - and any old politics was good enough for them so long as they rode in a procession, clothed in pretty white dresses, trimmed in red, white and blue ribbon.

Even if they did have to ask, "What's that man's name we are to shout for?" they were a thousand fold over more interesting in their beauty and innocence, than are the laterday Colorado Amazons, who talk politics until they dislocate their jaws, and who by their intensity would create a disturbance in Heaven - a kind of a cross between a jack rabbit and a bob-cat, with all the timid gentleness of the one left out and the vicious qualities of the other accentuated - the kind of a creature that the "Sultan of Sulu" would reject for his. harem, and that no self-respecting man could caress without an attack of nausea. Universal suffrage is one of the coming evils, and I don't want to live in a one-sex world.

The girls were in the neighborhood to do the decorating, but there seemed a hesitancy on their part, a shrinking from publicity as it were. They came up to nose distance, looked, sniffed, spit and concluded they would go across the field and call on the Robb girls.

and a sound. Now, when a well-trained man spitter spits, he does it artistically, both as to destination and sound - every consonant and the vowel is as perfectly articulated and modulated as though he were spelling out the word. Try it. There you have it - S-P-I-T.

Not so with the girl. She turns red, then pale, finally bringing up with a sort of gartersnake green, and ends with a sort of t-u-h, t-u-h, a run or a faint.

Being deserted by the girl decorators, Bill Richardson was pressed into the service, and managed to attach a few hangman's knots, in tri-colored ribbons, to the ox's horns and tail, and gave it as his opinion it was very "Pictu-res-que."

After a devil of a time to keep the beast from disintegration, we finally got him braced on a truck. He was scarcely the ideal we had pictured of head rampant, eyes blazant, tail extant, etc., etc., but he was a whole ox roasted, and if we could ever get him out of that yard, and fan him off a little, he would be all right.

The procession finally started. It was not as imposing as we had hoped for. It was largely made up of a gang of kids who have since grown up strong in the faith, and have become important factors in the making and unmaking of statesmen. There was not that dignity and decorum we had a right to expect - in fact there was a spirit of levity that was very unbecoming in the presence of the ox.

The Ideal Parade

Says a voice at a window, "It's Noonan and Mulligan," "Go on with the shindy," says little Mike Sullivan; "It's time for the fray," shouted Johnnie Conway,

And in rushed Mahoney, Cummins and Corrigan Yellin', "Wait just one minute, here's Purtil and Shea. Bland and Madigan are now on their way, Daly's just round the corner, Joyce on the run;

That little procession is scattered. Some of the poor fellows have gone over the "Great Divide,'' but most of them grew to manjy manhood, filling their niche and doing their -duty well.

Sam Collins, the master of ceremonies, was to the occasion. He never lost his sand. YVe had not proceeded far down West street, when we passed an old German gentleman named Amelong. Uncle Sam called out, "Come down to-morrow, Chris, and have dinner with us."

"Denkst du Ich bin cin asel?" came the ready reply, which being interpreted means, "Do you think I am a jack-ass?" and for the first time Uncle Sam seemed despondent.

As we passed the priest's residence, some extended an invitation to the good father to "Come down to-morrow and eat with us;" the good man smiled and said, "Thank you, Oh, thank you, you are very kind, but it's Friday," and then Uncle Sam began to suspect.

the ox by the tail. Now that tail had been made a special feature. The hide and switch had been left on, and had escaped the ravages of the fire, but one yank of Tom's strong arm peeled the thing from start to finish, from soda to hock, and left it under bare poles.

We tied it with strings, pinned it with pins, and glued it with glue, but in spite of all efforts it wouldn't stick and we had to give it up.

We finally reached the Square without actual disaster. The shades of night were falling fast, and none would have cared if there had come total darkness, and with it a cyclone that would have lifted that ox into the unknown whence. But, as it was, we braced the thing as best we could, covered it with disinfecting cloths, chose a committee to "wake" it, to the end that the irreverent enemy might not serve us any "Yankee tricks," and left it in its charmed circle, within which no one would have dared enter if he had known what he was about. However, we had a general understanding that all should meet at the place, or near it as possible, at dawn next morning, in order to hold a coroner's inquest, or something, and arrive at some decision as to what was best to do with the ox and ourselves.

The morning came and so did we, but the morning was brighter than we were. Possibly the birds sang as sweetly as if there had not been an ox roasted whole, with a whole

The sun did not rise; instead there came a great blazing ball of fire, thousands of times larger than the earth, and completely enveloping it in a torrent of heat.

There was not a cloud in the sky and no promise of one which, paradoxical as it may seem, made it darker for us. We wished for the hardest rain that could come in order that there might be an indefinite postponement of the "banquet."

Ravenous cats looked down from house tops, rats with glittering eyes peered from under the wooden sidewalks, hungry dogs had to be kicked out of the way, and even the hogs, which in those days ran at large, were gathered in squads, companies, battalions and regiments.

The poor old ox had shriveled and shrunk until he looked like a combination of last year's bird's nests and a veterinary's sign. His abdomen was distended by gas until it looked like an inverted balloon, and down his sides trickled little rivulets of rich, creamy yellow liquid and settled in pools on the ground below, and thousands of flies enjoyed such a dessert as never did fly before. In folds of flesh and cracks, writhed little innocent white worms, fighting for position, and on that heavy air, murky and close, arose the most intolerable stench it was ever the lot of mortal man to smell ; it was the very quintessence of compounded, double-distilled, rectified, concentrated stink ; lothsome stink, such a stink as you could cut in chunks, carry around and distribute among your enemies to drive them from their happy homes.

Pole cats, rotten eggs, sulphuretted hydrogen;, "carbon di-sulphide," that vile stuff shoemakers use in repairing old rubber boots, but which the shoemaker's cub gives a different name, much more expressive, and all other bad smells were as attar of roses, compared to this "Democratic Ox" smell.

Louie Gottfried, a grand fellow, long since dead, rest to his soul, was famous for his profanity ; he had as choice a collection of expletives in his swearing vocabulary as was ever given to a man with but one tongue, but this was too much for him ; he couldn't rise to the

Editor Parmenter, of the opposition press, wanted to know of Editor Fisher, if that was an ox roasted whole, or an ox hole roasted. That Parmenter always was a cynical cuss!

Robert Mehaffey came around the corner, leading little Willie, now the dignified editor of the Timcs-Dcmocrat ; he got a sight and a smell at the same time, and Willie, in his innocence asked his papa if he hadn t "cut his foot. Robert walked away, murmur inc "Too bad, too bad."

George Schooler, Gabe Hefner, Ross Crossley, Andy Duff, John Cremean, Doan Fisher and a number of others, as good Democrats as ever rain wet or sun dried, came along with hickory canes and butternut buttons. Schooler had his own peculiar formula of swear words, and almost shrieked out "Hell to Coshocton,' and then by common consent the little group wended their way over to Mad Anthony's.

My old teacher, Jasper Newton Guttridge, was a learned man but a solemn one. He came forward ail'd remarked, "Brethren, I should say that this poor defunct relic of animal life should be worked up into 'stearate of protoxide of potassium' (which in the language of the uncultivated means 'soft soap') and divided among the unwashed Democracy.'"

Recollections Of E. T. Cole

John F. Cole came to Lima in February, 1831. He had a contract with the man who brought the family "that they were to remain in the wagon until such time as the cabin was built." It was occupied without door or floor, quilts being hung up to answer as doors; the size of the cabin was 12 by 14 feet. John P. Mitchell, who on his arrival in Lima built a double cabin, which was used by him as a tavern, sold the three yoke of oxen with which he came to my father, who did not have one dollar to pay down. My father settled one mile from town, down the river. Enos Terry came at the same time with his family; his wife was my mother's sister. Terry settled between us and town. I have heard my folks tell about my father coming home with cattle after helping some one roll logs and then before going to bed, pound enough hominy to last the family the next day. He would turn the cattle out at night and before going to bed would get the direction they were feeding bv the bell, so that he would know where to find them in the morning, at which time they would be lying down. It was not an unusual occurrence to find them in the company of 10 or 15 deer.

My father hauled the first stock of merchandise into Lima with those oxen, from Dayton, Ohio, 60 miles - a 14 to 16 days' trip. My mother remained with four children at the cabin, only 10 rods from the path on the bank of the river the Indians used to go to and from Shawneetown, the Indian village.

I remember bearing my father tell about going to this village to get seed corn the spring they arrived, having cleared off three acres to plant. To fence the patch, the rails were carried on the shoulder, on which a pad of rags and feathers, made for the purpose, was secured.

On one occasion my uncle Terry went with my father to the Indian village for seed corn. (The squaws were in the habit of raising small patches of corn.) The chief Pht had "passed in his checks," and the Indians were engaged in funeral exercises. The white men were invited to participate, and dared not refuse; consequently they did not get home until after dark. The tribe were the Shawnees. I thinkin the settlement with the government they were privileged to remain in that vicinity for two years. Their destination finally was Iowa.

I remember hearing the folks 'tell about their living six weeks on squashes the fall following their arrival. One of the "men folks" at the time - I don't remember which one - shouldered one bushel of shelled corn and walked 30 miles east to a grinding apparatus that had been: established, and on returning home divided with three families the meal obtained.

My father was ruptured badly the next season after coming and so gave up farming. He borrowed $500 from a friend in Warren county, Ohio, where he came from, moved to town, bought a half-lot, built a house for storeroom and living room combined and bought a stock of goods with that $500. Probably it was not a very extensive stock of goods.

A man by the name of Breese became the owner of the Indian village. He was in the habit of bringing apples to town gathered from trees planted by the Indians, very much sooner than any one in the vicinity. This calls to my mind that my father and 'Squire Williams went into Champaign County about the fall of 1846 or 1847 an(i brought home two loads of apples. Williams had a fancy for a good dog, and bought one on the way home. On making a stop on the journey to water the horses, the dog jumped out of the wagon; in getting him back again, Williams was bitten, but did not give it any thought ; nine days later he was taken with hydrophobia and died a terrible death.

It was a red-letter day for Lima when Daniel D. Tompkins and two other families, all loaded in covered wagons, led by the brass band, marched out of town for Oregon, where at that time all settlers received a deed for a quarter-section of land for each member of the family.

I think that it was in 1845 that Linn, the merchant, who was holding forth in the old log Court House on Main street, went to Cincinnati to buy goods and brought the cholera to Lima. Pie was taken down the evening of his return and died the following day. A German cooper's boy, living up town, was soon after taken sick and died. McConnehay ran a saddler's shop in a shanty situated on the Court Plouse grounds. A boy learning the trade and sleeping in the garret of the shop died without the knowledge of any one. Everv available trap that had wheels was brought into requisition to take the people out of town. Mv mother gave my father no rest until he had "hooked to" the wagon, and two sisters and two brothers besides mvself "hiked" for the Amanda woods, where mv father's sister, Mrs.

Woodrough, lived, three miles from any public road. The cholera quit business with five victims; I suppose because it had no more timber to work on.

James S. Cheever came to Lima in 1834. My wife, Juliet, was born in 1836, and the families lived so near each other that my mother dressed the young lady with the first suit she wore.

To look back over the ground, it seems but a few months or years since we went to school together, slid down the hill in the winter on the same sled, and visited the sugar camps at "stirring off" time in squads of 15 or 20.

James S. Cheever brought with him a stock of goods, made up of such articles as were sold and traded to the Indians, who were in evidence to a considerable extent up to the year 1840. They would come to Lima in squads of from six to 12, and pass our house going to Saint's tan yard, which was just across the way from us, where they traded hides for leather.

Levi Saint was one of the first settlers of Lima; I think he came in 1836. His business seemed to be a paying one. as he built the first brick residence in Lima. Some years after, he built a brick storehouse on the southeast corner of the Square, and entered into the mercantile business. George was the eldest son and my chum. Hudson Watt had occupied that corner with a small building as a shoe store, from my earliest recollection. "The Old Lort." as the building was called, stood on the northwest corner of Main and Market streets, opposite the Court House. North of it was a two-story wooden building, which when the Square was graded down was left some five or six feet above the sidewalk; Market street, sloping up from the corner, was on a level with the backend of the building.

When the Pittsburg, Lort Wayne & Chicago Railroad was being built. 1 think it was in 1852 or 1853, the laborers employed in the construction, some 250 or 300 men. Irish and Dutch, working in the cut at the river, would frequent a saloon in "The Old Lort" and. on Saturday afternoons more particularly, would get in a hilarious mood and step out on the walk on Market street and commit all kinds of nuisances. It had been a source of complaint for some time. Henry Misner and myself were in the grocery and restaurant business two buildings south of the Square, on the west side of Main street. One Saturday evening, Christmas Eve, we had roast goose and invited the friends in. We were there until 1 1 130 p. m., and when we closed up some one noticed a commotion at "The Old Fort'' and suggested we go up and investigate. I think there were eight or 10 in the party. John Vanatta, a very large and powerful young man, then the general boss at the railroad work, was one of the party; John Carpenter, blacksmith, working for Isaac Delrell; Misner and myself, with others that I cannot name now, made up the investigating party. By the time we had arrived at the "Fort" the number had increased somewhat.

We found the room full of railroad workmen, well "tanked up." Some one called for drinks and it being about 12 o'clock Saturday night, and an ordinance against selling on Sunday being in force, the barman thought we were there to catch him and refused the customer, and so the row began. Our boys helped themselves to a keg of axe handles standing in a corner and in less than 10 minutes they cleaned out the shanty and began to investigate the back room, out of which were rolled 18 barrels of liquor, chiefly whiskey, with some brandy. When the barrels of liquor reached the pavement, they went down hill to the middle of the Square; there the heads were knocked in and the contents ran to the river. The boys tried to set it on fire, but it would not burn.

Some friends of the saloon men tried to set the building on fire about 3 o'clock, for the purpose of holding us for damages. The upper story was used for storage, and in it were two kegs of powder, - 25 pounds each ; near these a box of packing was placed and set on fire. John Carpenter, the blacksmith, who had eyes like an eagle, with no fear in his makeup, ran up the stairs where the kegs of powder were enveloped in the flames of the box and its contents, and kicked the box out of the front door. A guard was then placed over the premises until morning.

The square and the old building presented a sad sight when daylight came. On Monday, Charles N. Lamison, prosecuting attorney, had 22 persons arrested. The sheriff, Ridenour, had been very lately installed in office and was not "up to snuff" very extensively. The county judge lived four miles east, and to get us there Sheriff Ridenour procured a fourhorse sleigh. We "loaded in" and John Vanatta, having had some experience in driving four horses, took the reins and gave us quite a ride about town ; then it occurred to us that it was time for dinner, which we were not slow in demanding. Mr. Sheriff led us to the tavern, kept by one Captain Fisher. After dinner the sheriff was informed that if he wanted to present us to the judge he had better bring his Honor in. We went home.

The following morning the judge presented himself and the trial opened for "riot." Two days were consumed in getting a jury. Captain Fisher was foreman and John Haller, a young man living two miles west of town, school teacher and surveyor, was one of the jury. The trial was finished Saturday noon. The jury retired, occupying a room to the right of the judge's stand in the court room. They remained all night, all Sunday and Sunday evening. William Mitchell got a position over the jury room by climbing through the roof timbers and made a small hole through the plastering, sufficient to hear what transpired below. It seems that all were for "not guilty" except Haller. About 9 o'clock he announced his intention to go with the rest. Captain Fisher asked him to write the verdict, which he did and the Captain signed it as foreman and they adjourned.

The intelligence was too good to keep. Mitchell came down and told the decision, with the injunction that it should not be repeated. When morning came it was common talk and some of the friends of whiskey (county officers) then engaged the attention of this man John Haller, and when court was called and the jury were asked if they had a verdict the foreman answered, "yes." and presented it. After reading it, the prosecuting attorney asked that the jury be polled, which was done, - all the jury answering, "Yes, your Honor" except the man Haller, who replied, "No, your Honor." The prosecuting attorney asked for a continuance, which was granted and the defendants were ordered to give bond ; but the answer to this was, "We'll go to jail. ' I he judge proceeded to order the sheriff to take us to jail.

Carpenters had been laying a floor in the debtors' room and had not finished, leaving some of the joists partly exposed. It was a short job to get one loose and use it for a battering-ram and bend the iron bars of the windows until they were pulled out of the wall. No one made any attempt to go out. About that time dinner was called and Mr. Sheriff was ordered to bring in tables and spread the "grub" upon them. The texture of the "grub was such that it did not satisfy the fastidious taste of the guests. By mistake, or otherwise, the table went over and the "grub" was spilled on the floor. About that time some ladies appeared with a prepared dinner, which was dished out and enjoyed by the boys, after which a fiddler was introduced and some dancing enjoyed, when the ladies gathered up the fragments and retired.

The attorney employed to defend was from Bellefontaine. At that stage of the game, the attorney called on Judge Metcalf, who happened to be at home, and presented a writ of habeas corpus, and the judge asked the sheriff by what authority he held the prisoners. The county judge had failed to issue and deliver a mittimus to the sheriff, hence the latter had no authority to hold his prisoners and the defendants were discharged by Judge Metcalf. Moreover, having been incarcerated without authority, they were not responsible for any damage accruing to the public property. The boys went home. The County Court convened the first Monday in each month, when the prosecuting attorney would ask for a continuance of the case, which was granted by the judge. The defendants presented themselves at each call of the court for four or five calls and then gave it no more heed.

About 30 days after this, some saloon man at Delphos, concluding to engage in the business at Lima, loaded three wagons with the necessary goods, drove to within two miles of town and camped until the proper time in the night, expecting to occupy "The Old Fort" before daylight, without the knowledge of those opposed to that style of business. The fact was. learned and 10 o'clock found 40 persons gathered at the foundry, with captain chosen and! everyone armed, four men with revolvers, four; with crowbars and the remainder with axes andsledgehammers. All were disguised, mostly with coffee sacks, with eye and mouth holes,, pulled over their heads. They were for.medj into line, counted, every man instructed as toi his duty, marched in front of the "Fort," themen with revolvers taking stations as guards^ to admit no one. The crowbar men openedthe doors and windows. I think it could not have exceeded 10 minutes until the buildinghad neither plastering nor weatherboarding left on it from top to bottom. The men were then formed in line, were counted (no word spoken during the transaction) and were marched to the foundry. The wagons went on the back track with the "rotgut."

I have heard my father and others talk about a "graft" that was worked extensively by two parties. One gentleman occupied the Land' Office and when parties would make application for entry of lands nothing but gold or silver would "go;" they were informed that a gentleman next door could probably furnish the necessary coin ; 10 per cent, was the penalty. The coin would pass back ready for the next victim ; a few hundred dollars did the work.

John Bashore kept tavern down Main street. General Blackburn, a very large man, lived just below. I think he was general in the War of 1812; he afterwards moved to Allentown, four miles west. I thought at that time that General Blackburn was the "only man," when general muster would occur, and he with his regimentals on was mounted on a dapple

Joseph H. Richardson was one of the first school teachers I remember, holding forth in the upper story of the old log Court House on Main street, just south of the Square.

James Satterthwaite, who did the boot and shoe act, was unusually small in stature. The boys said he was made that way to go down into the boots to cut the pegs out. Bart, his brother, was jeweler and the first postmaster I remember. Dan Blubaker was the mail carrier at one time, making his trips on horseback. John Hubbard "dished out" the groceries in a small building situated on the corner where the Lima House was erected later on.

Charles Fanrote turned out the spinning wheels on Market street, east of the Square, a near neighbor to Thomas Delrell, the blacksmith. Thomas K. Jacobs was county treasurer for many years. The Know Nothing party was organized on the quiet, and turned him down as well as some others - "Court House Rats," as they were called at that time.

Mr. Chaffee was one of the first school teachers; he held forth in the old Methodist Episcopal Church, just over the alley from our bouse. Mr. Thomas, who "navigated" on crutches, taught school; his brother George was a shoemaker, known as "Dickey" Thomas; neither was ever married ; they lived with their mother.

Abraham Bowers ran a cabinet shop and Samuel A. Baxter, a hat shop. These enterprises were conducted on the first cross street below the Square, and old lady Gibbler lived at the west end. "Nute" Hoover had the first drug-store in my recollection.

I remember my father and others went with wagons over the corduroy roads 60 miles to Dayton, Ohio, in 1840 to see Gen. William Henry Harrison, who was running for President. O. Curtis was one of the men. The boys called him "Bottle O." Curtis. The sign over his place of business was a bottle, filling

One year, I think it was 1856, a Fourth of July celebration was on. After a cannon, made for the occasion by Joseph Smith, the foundry man, had been fired by the members of the firing squad, they turned their attention to arranging a platform for the speakers. A young man, who was working in the pattern department of the foundry, thought he would fire the two or three charges left, and called on young Alexander, who was about 14 years old, without experience in that line, to thumb the cannon. When the second charge was being rammed in, a premature discharge followed, which blew the arms from the operator at the elbows. My wife and I were sitting in the second-story window of Saint's storehouse, looking directly at the operation. The young man recovered, minus his forearms.

The following winter there was formed a Thespian Club, which played several plays, one of which was "Black-Eyed Susan." A young lad, known as Samuel A. Baxter, Jr., whose stature and complexion were suited for the occasion, made a magnificent representation of "Black-Eyed Susan." I remember that about $75 was turned over to the unfortunate young man, who suffered on the Fourth.

A story related by Horace K. Knapp, respecting the court of Allen County in 1857, is valuable both on account of its personnel and incident. "In 1S57." says Mr. Knapp, "a new sheriff was inducted into office in Allen County. He was much inclined to waggery, and plumed himself upon his success in the practical jokes he would get off on his friends. Judge Robb, who habitually takes everything in good humor, and had been in several instances his victim, devised the following retaliatory scheme: Seeking a conversation with the new officer, he informed him that it was the smallest number of sheriffs who understood the true form of opening court. 'Now,' said Robb, 'while our Democrats mav not like the English government and people altogether, it must nevertheless be admitted that we are indebted to them for the fundamental principles of our admirable system of jurisprudence. The more closely we adhere to their venerated forms, the more imposing and sublime appears the administration of justice.' The sheriff concurred in this view, and Judge Robb then proceeded to drill the officer in his method of opening court, and having learned to 'speak his piece,' Judge Metcalf, the bar and spectators were electrified the next morning to hear the new sheriff proclaim, in response to the order to open court, - 'Oh yes! oh yes! all manner of persons having anything to do with this court of nisi prins, held in this county of Allen, will draw near and give attention. God save the Queen !' This drew out a long-continued roar of laughter at the expense of the sheriff and the Queen and necessitated the reopening of the court in due form. Robb had his revenge."

In a farmer's shop in Huron County the Record man recently espied an old book, minus a back and reposing in a nail-box. He dug it out and in leafing through it discovered it to be an Ohio Agricultural Report for 1852, just 50 years ago, and on page 217 is a report of the organization of the Allen County Agricultural Society, the first secretary being our venerable fellow-citizen, Hugh Dobbins, and Matthew Dobbins, the first president, was his father. The report is as follows :

In pursuance of previous notice a meeting of citizens of Allen County was held at Lima on Saturday, the nth of January, 1851, for the purpose of forming an agricultural society.

On motion, Samuel P. Tingle was called to the chair and Hugh Dobbins was chosen secretary fro ton. Whereupon a committee of five, consisting of Joseph Shotwell, William S. Rose, James Huston, James Mendenhall, and Mattthew Dobbins, were appointed to draft a constitution for the government of the society, which was unanimously adopted and signed by over 30 members.

The society then proceeded to the election of officers for the ensuing year, which resulted as follows: Matthew Dobbins, president; Joseph Shotwell, vicepresident; Samuel P. Tingle, treasurer; James Huston,

This fair, held in this place on the 21st of October, 1851, was attended by a large number of the farmers and others of our county, and from the degree of interest which seems to be taken, we are quite sure that all take a deep interest in its welfare. For the first of the kind in our county, we think we may challenge comparison with any other county in Northwestern Ohio. The numbers of horses, cattle, sheep, hogs, etc., far surpassed the most sanguine expectations of its best friends, and the quality of the different kinds of stock was much better than could have been reasonably expected, and the quality of the fruit is not surpassed by any other in the State.

On the afternoon of the same day M. H. Nichols, Esq., of Lima, Ohio, delivered an address to the members of the society and others in attendance, after which the premiums awarded by the several committees were made known. Hugh Dobbins, Secy. Lima, Dec. 30, 1851.

The old sulphur spring referred to in the following poem was located on the Lamison farm, north of Lima. It has been destroyed by the railroads passing through the farm.

The Old Sulphur Spring

To the many boys and girls, who around it have thronged; In days of love and song, when the summer days were long, To the sparkling spring of water, there many have gone.

For a gum of ancient growth, of either sycamore or oak, Was the only thing that showed where the silver water glow'd, In its endless supply, while to the little river it flowed.