Union County, Ohio - Chapter 18: Reminiscences and Memoirs, 1915

Chapter 18: Reminiscences and Memoirs

The following interesting article was written by Captain H. C. Hamilton, who resided in Union connty so many years, and whose gallant military service is noted else\\here in this volume, it was written about a third of a centurv ago and is a part (jf the permanent annals of the county:

July 4, 1838, was observed in good style at Rich wood. The people turned out enmasse; a martial band was employed, consisting of James Landon, Cyrus I^ndon and Payne Landon. They were paid fifty cents apiece and came on foot, carrying their drums from Prospect, a distance of six miles. Rev. Jacob Young deli\ered the oration. In the morning, while the people were gathering, a foot race was arranged between William Bennett and Benjamin M. Hamilton. The latter was young and quick in his motion: he had been in the habit of outrunning his schoolmates in Muskingum county, and gave out word that he could outrun anyone in Richwood. Bennett was an old hunter and once a very powerful man, in which respect he was like all his brothers. They started from what is now the center of town and ran south on the Marysville road. At first Bennett allowed Hamilton to lead by twenty feet or more, but when about half way he began to lope off something like a deer, and in a few jumps he was in the lead. He then turned and ran backwards, calling on Hamilton to "come on" and not to be discouraged. Bennett won the race, making half the distance backwards. He then said he cnuld beat Hamilton any distance and carry old man Cade - who would weigh over two hundred pounds - on his back.

In the summer of 1842, when I was twelve years old, and a small boy carrying the mail from Richwood to Marysville and back every Friday, I chanced to see an old-fashioned militia muster at Pharisburg. Captain Westenhoover was in command. The ground was wet and muddy ; the captain had on a large bell-crowned beaver hat and a blue spike-tailed coat with a great nianv brass buttons. He was in his bare feet and had his home- made pants rolled up to his knees. As 1 came into Pharisburg from Alarysville, Captain Westenhoover came leading his company south with David Welsh in the lead and the Scott boys next. At what is now the south part of town, the Captain countermarched his company and started north and all went well until they came near the cross-roads and to a large oak stump which was near the road. At this point Welsh gave a knowing wink to those around, and then aimed for the stump and fell over it, and was followed by all the company until they all lay in (juc pile around the stump, with their broomsticks and cornstalks in their hands and raising a roar of laughter. This broke up the muster in a row.

About the year 1841 I chanced to go to Marysville on an errand. I went across the scjuare to tiie southwest side to Rodney Picket's store where 1 heard some men indulging in loud laughter. I was a timid boy, but got cl(3se enough to overhear the cause of laughter. A man, whose name I did not learn, had taken a contract to paint the court house, and had prepared his paint by mixing in buttermilk in order to save money ; but when he carried it to the building to commence work he left it for a short time and some hogs drank it all up. and this was what the men were laughing at.

In early times there lived on the knoll east of the ]3resent residence of G. B. Hamilton a person of some notoriety, known Ijy the name of "Dick," and such we will call him in this article. Dick was an innocent kind of a fellow whose life was of the kind to make mischief and whose stealings were on a small scale and of such things as he stood in need of. It was said of Dick that if he borrowed a horse he would feed it well if he had to steal the grain of its owner to do so. He was always ready to do a kind act and was looked upon as rather a good kind of a fellow despite his weakness. He was a man of some talent, had a passion for polemics and was fond of talking of his skill as a debater. He had one besetting sin that was not offset bv virtue sufficient in the eyes of his neighbors; it was that of whipping his wife, whose name was Hannah. The old men of the community tried to scold and shame him out of so bad a habit, but it was of no use. Very frequently Hannah's screams would be heard all the country 'round, and the neighbors would be disturbed by his efforts to correct his wife. It was finally proposed that the voung men of the neighborhood should take the matter in hand and try the effect of a debate on ''Poor Richard." The matter was duly considered and plans matured. It was arranged to hold the debate in the upper room of Samuel Hamilton's house, which was the best room of the kind in the county, save the two churches in Richwood. The time for meeting was set for two o'clock on Saturday afternoon, that all might attend.

First there was to be a question discussed such as Dick was fond of, and he was to be one of the chief disputants. John Graham was to be president, judge of the tirst debate and when it closed and the decision of the judge was gi\en, he was to retire from his chair and name his successor. Upon doing so, he chose Dick as the president judge on the debate to follow. The first one was cut sliort to gi\e time for the second. Richard, upon taking the chair, returned thanks for the htmor done him, and stated that the next thing in order was to choose the assistant judges; whereupon Samuel Graham and Eleazer Rose were appointed - they being in league with the others in the scheme to give Dick a scorching. The three were placed on the seats of honor, with Richard in the center. It was further agreed that the question should l)e "What crime should sink a man the lowest in the estimation of the community?" James C. Dobie and S. C. Hamilton were appointed leaders in the discussion. Dobie chuse J. H. Hamilton and B. Graham as his assistants, while Hamilton chose John Graham and John Wells. Each leader was to choose for himself the crime he saw fit as being the one that should sink a person the lowest in the esteem of his fellow-men, each speaker to be allowed two speeches. Dobie opened the discussion by choosing lying and stealing as being the worst of all crimes. He was a fluent speaker and made a good address, scoring Dick pretty heavily. He was followed by Hamilton, who had great dilticult}" in finding a crime that was as degrading as King or stealing. After naming over all the crimes he could think of. he finally concluded to select "Wife-whipping" as the one which above all others should sink a man the lowest in the scale of human existence. Poor Richard now saw that he was caught, but it \vas too late, for if he had attempted to leave the two assistant -judges would have held him to his post. Hamilton opened for his side by admitting all that Dobie had said as to the meanness of the liar and thief, Init argued that the man who would whip his wife was meaner still. When it came to John Graham's turn to speak, he made a fine argument, tending to show that in the single act of whipping a wife were found all the crimes in the list - that the wife-whipper was a liar and a perjurer as well as a thief. Dobie"s side made an effort to ward oft' some of the blows and did well for smne three hours until it came Hamilton's turn to close the debate. He, no tldubt, made the best speech of his life, taking the position that a man might be a liar, a thief, a robber, a pirate or even a murderer, and yet, if he had manhood enough left in him to live true to his marriage vows he was entitled to some respect from his fellow men. But that when he was so far gone as to beat his own wife - the mother of his children

- he was so low down in the scale of existence, that he was not entitled to any respect from either men or devils; and the wife-beater was to be shunned and scorned in this life as one wmild shun a viper; even in hell, he would nut be accounted worthy to associate with the lust, but that in one corner there would be a place Ijy itself in which tu cunhne nunc but wife-v.'hippers, for the reason the}' were so low it would l>e unjust tu compel others tu associate with them, even in the regiuns uf the damned. He then appealed t(j the judges to decide without hesitating one moment that wife-whipping should of all crimes sink a man the lowest in the estimation of the community.

During all this long deljate. uf three ur fuur hours, poor Richard sat with his head duwn and cmly now and then made an ineffectual effort to look up. Afterward he said to one of his associate judges that it was the hardest question he had e\er been calletl upon to decide! Dick was quite anxious to tr_\- the same game un some uf his neigh'.jors, with a view to their reformation. He wuuld sa\- to his chums, "Let us have a debate over such a fellow and see if we can't break him i_if some of his bad tricks?"

The Stoky Of Jonathan Alder

Alany (jf the people fonrierly li\ing in this locality were more or less familiar with the history of this man, and as he lived in Jerome township, it will not be out of place tu gi\e an account of him here, taken principally frum Huwe's "Histurical Collection of Ohio:"

Jonathan Alder was born in New Jersey aliout eight miles from Philadelphia on September 17, 1773. When at about the age of seven years his parents removed to Wythe county, \'irginia, and his father soon after died. In the succeeding March. 1782. while out with his brother, David, hitnting for a mare and her colt, he was taken prisoner by a small party of Indians. His brother, on the first alarm, ran and was pursued by some of the party. "At length." says Alder. "I saw them returning, leading my brother, while one was holding the handle of a spear that he had thrown at him and run into his bodw -Vs they approached, one oi them stepped up and grasped him around the bodv, while another pulled (.)ut the spear. I observed some flesh on the end of it, which looked white, which I supposed came from his entrails. -1 moved to him and in(|uire(l if he was hurt and he replied that he was. These were the last words that passed l)etween us. At that moment he turned pale and began to sink and 1 was hurried on, and shortly after saw

The Indians, having also taken prisoner a Mrs. Martin, a neighbor to the Alders, with a young child aged about four or five years, retreated toward their towns. Their route lay through the woods to the Big Sandy, down that stream to the Ohio, which they crossed and from thence went overland to the Scioto near Chillicothe and so on to a Mingo village on Mad river. Finding the child of Mrs. Martin burdensome, they soon killed and scalped it. The last member of her family was now destroyed and she screamed in agony of grief. Upon this, one of the Indians caught her by her hair and, drawing the edge of his knife across her forehead, cried: "Sculp! sculp!" with the hope of stilling her cries. But, indifferent to life, she continued her screams, when they procured some switches and whipped her until she was silent. The next day young Alder having not risen through fatigue from eating at the moment the word was given, saw, as his face was toward the north, the shadow of a man's arm with an uplifted tomahawk. He turned and there stood an Indian ready for the fatal blow. Upon this he let down his arm and commenced feeling of his head. He afterward told Alder it had been his intention to kill him : but as he turned, he looked so smiling and pleasant he could not strike and on feeling his head and noticing that his hair was very black, the thought struck him that if he could only get him to his tribe he would make a good Indian, but that all that saved his life was the color of his hair.

After thev crossed the Ohio they killed a bear and remained four days to drv the meat for packing and to fry out the oil, which last they put in the intestines, having first turned and cleaned them. The village to which Alder was taken belonged to the Mingo tribe and was on the north side of Mad river, which, we should judge, was somewhere within or near the limits of what is now Logan county. As he entered, he was obliged to run the gauntlet, formed by young children armed with switches. He passed through this ordeal with little or no injury and was adopted into an Indian family. His Indian mother thoroughly washed him with soap and warm water with herbs in it, previous to dressing him in the Indian costume, consisting of a calico shirt, breech-clout, leggins and moccasins. The family, having thus converted him into an Indian, were much pleased with their new member. But Jonathan was at first very homesick, thinking of his mother and brothers. Everything was strange about him ; he was unable to speak a word of their language ; their food disagreed with him and, child-like, he used to go

(.)Ut daily for a niDinli and sit under a large walnut tree near the village and cry for hours at a time oxer his de|)li»rai)le situation. His Indian father was a chief of the Alingo trilie. nanietl Suceolianns ; his Indian mother was named Whinecheoh and their daughters. resi)ecti\el\-. answered to the good old English name of Mar\-, Hannah and Sallv. Succohanos and Whinecheoh were old people and had Inst a son. in whose place they had adopted Jonathan. They took pity on the little fellow and did their best to comfort him, telling him that he would one (la\- he restored to his mother and brothers.

He says of them, "The)' coul<l not lia\e used their own son better, for which they shall always lie held in most grateful remembrance In' me." His Indian sister. Sail}, ho\\e\er, treated him like a sla\'e and when out of humor applied to him, in the Indian tongue, the luihuhlike epitliel of "ornary (mean), lous}- prisoner!" Jonathan, for a time. li\-ed with Alary, who had become the wife of the chief Colonel Lewis. ""In the fall of the year," says he. "the Indians would generall\- collect at our camp in the evenings to talk over their hunting expeditions. 1 wmikl sit up to listen to their stories and frequentlv fell asleep just where I was sitting. After tliev left Mar\- would fix my ])ed. and with (Jolonel Lewis would carefulh- take me up and carry me to it. On these occasions the)- would often say - supposing me to be asleep - 'Poor fellow ! W'c lia\c sat u]) too long for him and he has fallen asleep on the cold groiuid.' ;m(l then how softly would they lay me tlown and cover me up. Oh. never have 1, nor can I, express the affection I had for these two jjersons."

Jonathan, with other boys, went into Alad river to bathe and on one occasion came near drowning. He was taken out senseless and some time elapsed ere he rec(.)vered. He says: "T rememljer, after I got over my strangle, I became \ery sleepy and thought I could draw my breath as well as ever. Being oxercome with drowsiness, I laid down to sleep, which is the last I remember. The act of drowning is nothing, but the coming to life is distressing. The boys, after tlie\- had brought me to, gave me a silver buckle as an inducement not to tell the old folks of the occurrence, for fear they would not let me come out with them again, and so the affair was kept secret."

When Alder had learneil to speak the Indian language he became more contented. He says: "I would have lived veiy happy if T could have had health, but for three or four years I was subject to very severe attacks of fever and ague. Their diet went \-ery hard with me for a long time. Their chief living was meat and hominw but we rarely had any bread and \erv little salt, which was extremely scarce and dear, as well as milk and butter. Honey and sugar were plentiful and used a great deal in their cooking as well as on their food."'

When he was old enough he was given an old English musket and told that he must go out and learn ti> hunt. So he used to follow along the water courses, where the mud turtles were plentiful, and commenced his first essay upon them. He generally aimed under them as they lay back on the rocks and when he struck the stone they flew^ sometimes several feet in the air. which afforded great sport for the youthful marksman. Occasionally he killed a wild turkey or a raccixm and when he returned to the \illage with his game generally recei\ed high praise for his skill, the Indians telling him he would make "a great hunter one of these days." He had a varied experience during the years he remained with the Indians and witnessed the shedding of blood in more than one engagement between the whites and the savages. He also went on one expedition, with others, to steal horses from the settlers. He remained with the Indians until after Wayne's treaty in 1795. He was urgetl b)- them to be present on the occasion to obtain a reservation of land which was to be given to each of the prisoners, but. ignorant of its importance, he neglectetl going and lost the land. Peace having l^een restored, .\lder sa\'s. "1 could now lie down without fear and rise up and shake hands with both the Indian and the white man."

The summer after the treaty, while living on Big Darby, Lucas SuUi- \ant made his appearance in that region surveying land, and soon became on terms of intimacy with Alder, who related to him a history of his life and generously ga\-e him the piece of land on which he dwelt, but, there being some little dilikulty about the title, Alder did not contest and so lost it. When the settlers first made their a])pearance on Darby, Alder could scarcely speak a word of English. He was then about twenty-four years of age, fifteen of which had been ]iassed with the Indians. Two of the settlers kindly taught him to comerse in h'nglish. He had taken up with a scjuaw for a wife some time pre\'ious and now began to farm like the whites. He kept hogs, cows and horses, sold nnlk and InUter to the Indians, horses and pork to the whites, and accumulated propert}'. He soon was able to hire white laborers and, being dissatisfied with his squaw - a cross, pee\ish woman - wished to ])Ut her aside, get a wife from among the settlers, and live like them. Thoughts, too, of his mother and ])rothers began to obtrude, and the more he reflected his tlesire strengthened to know whether they were living and to see them once more. He made imiuiries for them. 1)ut was at a loss to know how to begin. Ijeing ignorant of the name of e\-en the state in which they were. When talking one day with John Moore, a conipani(jn of his, the latter cjuestioned him where he was from. Alder replied that he was taken prisoner somewhere near a place called Greenbrier and that his people lived by a lead mine, to which he nsed freqnently to go to see the hands dig ore. Moore then asked him if he could recollect the names of an}' of his neighbors. After a little reflection, he replied, "Yes, a family of Gulions lived close to us." Upon this Moore dropped his heatl, as if l(_ist in thought, and muttered to himself, "Gulion! Gulion!" and then raising up, replied, "My father and myself were out in that countr)- and we stoi)ped at their house o\er one night and if your people are lixing 1 can hml them." Mr. Moore, after this, went to Wythe county and inquired for a famil}- oi Alder, Init without success, as they had remo\ed from their former residence. He put up ad\-ertisements in \arious places, stating the facts, and where Alder was to be found and then returned. Alder now abandoned all hopes of finding his family, supposing them to be dead. Some time after he and Moore were at Franklinton, wlien he was informed there \\as a letter for him in the postoffice. It was from his brother, I'aul. stating that one of the advertisements put up within six miles of him and that he got it the next day. It contained the io_\ful news that his mother and l)rothers were ali\'e.

Alder, in making preparations to start for \'irginia, agreed to separate from his Indian wife, divide the property equally, and take and leax'e her with her own people at Sanduskw But some difficidty occurred in satisfying her. He ga\e her all the cow>. fourteen in nnml^er, W(jrth twent}' dollars each, se\en horses and much other propert}-, reserving to himself only two horses and the swine. Besides these was a small Ixjx. about six inches long, four wide and four deep, filled with siher, amounting, ])robably, to about two hundred dollars which he intended to take to make an equal division; but to this she objected, saying the box was her's before marriage, and she would not onlv have it Imt all it contained. .Vlder says: "1 saw I could not get it without making a fuss and probably having a fight, and told her that if she would promise ne\er to trouble nor come back to me, she might have it, to which she agreed."

Moore accompanied him to his brother's house. ;is he was accustomed to travel among the whites. They arrived there on horseback at noon, the Sunday after New Year's. They walketl up to the house and requested to have their horses fed, and. pretending to be entire strangers, incpiired who li\ed there. "I had concluded," -^ays .Klder. "not to make my- self known tor some time, and eyed my I)rother very closely, but did not recollect his features. 1 had always thought 1 should have recognized my mother by a mole on her face. In the corner sat an old lady, who I supposed was she, although I could not tell, for when I was taken by the Indians her head was as black as a crcjw and now it was perfectly white. Two young women were present, who eyed me very closely, and I heard one of them whisper to the other, 'He looks very much like Mark' (my brother). I saw the\- were about to discover me and, accordingly, turned my chair around to mv brotlier and said. 'Ynu say your name is Alder?' 'Yes,' he replied, "mv name is Paul .\lder.' 'Well,' I rejoined, 'my name is .Alder, too.' Now, it is hardlv necessary to describe our feelings at that time, but they were ver\' different from those 1 had when 1 was taken prisoner and saw the Indian coming with my brother's scalp in his hand, shaking off the blood. When 1 told m\ brother that my name was Alder, he rose to shake hands with me, so overjoyed that he could scarcely utter a word, and my old mother ran, threw her arms around me. while tears rolled down her cheeks. The first words she spoke, after she grasped me in her arms, were, 'How you have grown!' and then she told me of a dream she had. Says she: T dreamed that \-ou had come to see me and that you were a little, onorary (mean) looking fellow, and I v/ould not own you for my son. but now I find I was mistaken - that it is entirely the re\erse - and I am proud to own you for my son.' 1 told her 1 could remind her of a few circumstances that she would recollect, that took place before I was made captive. I then related various things, among which was that the negroes, on passing our house on Saturday evenings to spend Sundays with their wives, would beg pumpkins of her and get her to roast them for them against their return on Monday morning. She recollected these circumstances and said now she had no doubt of my lieing her son. We ])assed the balance of the day in agreeable conversation and I related to them the history of my captivity, my fears and doubts, of my grief and misery the first year after I was taken. My brothers at this time were all married and Mark and John had moved from there. They were sent for and came to see me, but my half-brother, John, had moved so far that 1 never got to .see him at all."

Jonathan Alder is well remembered by the older settlers who lived in the count}-, and princi])ally, perhaps, b}- those whose homes have been along the Big Darljy creek, in Jerome and Darby townships. Benjamin Springer settled near him and taught him the English language and Alder reciprocated by supplying him and other pioneers with meat and he is said to have saved some of the settlers, on different occasions, from being killed by the Indians. Joshua Ewing Ijrought four sheep to his place in 1800, and these were strange animals to the Indians. An Indian, accompanied by his dog, was one day passing by, when the dog caught one of the sheep and was immediately shot by -Air. Ewing. He would ha\e l)een shot in retaliation by the Indian but for Alder, who was present and with much dift'icultv restrained him. Through the achice and influence of Alder, manv of the Indians remained neutral during the War of 181 2, antl e\'entually became warm friends of the Americans. Diirmg that war he was one ()f the party which went north from about the site of Plain City and built a block-house on Mill creek, a few miles aiioxe where j\larys\'ille now stands. Several of the best known pioneers of the county assisted in constructing said l)uilding, of which not a trace now ren.iains. .Vlder's home was for many years in Madison county.

The Doomed Wy.Vndot

The following interesting article appeared in the Hesperian, published at Columbus, Ohio, by William D. (Gallagher and Otway Curry, in the issue of that magazine for May, 1838:

"The great northern family of Indian tribes which seem to have been originally embraced in the generic term Iroquois, consisted, according to some writers, of two grand divisions : the eastern and the western. In the eastern nation were included the hive Nations or INIaquas (Mingoes), as they were commonly called by the Algonkin tribes, and in the western the Yendots, or Wyandots (nick-named Hurons l)y the h>ench), and three or four other nations, of whom a large proportion are now entirely extinct. The Yendots, after a long and deadly warfare, were nearly exterminated by the Fi\e Nations, about the middle of the seventeenth century. Of the survivors, a part sought refuge in Canada, where their descendants still remain; a few are incorporated among the different tribes of the conquerors, and the remainder, consisting chiefly of the Tionontates, retired to Lake Superior. In consequence of the disastrous wars in which they afterward became in\olved with other powerful nations of the Northwestern region, they again repaired to the vicinitv of their old hunting-groiuids. With this remnant of the original Huron or Wyandot nation were united some scattered fragments of other broken-up tribes of the same stock and, though comparatively few in number, they continued for a long period to assert successfully the right of sovereignty over the whole extent of country between the Ohio river and the lakes, as far west as the territorv of the Piankeshaws. or Aliamis, whose eastern boundary was probably an irregular line drawn through the valleys of the Great Miami ( Shi-me-am-ee ) and the Ottawah-sepee, or Maumee river of Lake Erie. The Shawanese and the Delawares, it is believed, were occupants of a part of the fore-mentioned country, merely by sufferance of the ^^'vand()ts, whose right of dominion seems never to have been called in cjuestion, exce])ting by the Mingoes or Five Nations. The Shawanese were originallv powerful and always warlike. Kentucky received its name from them in the course of their migrations between their former place of residence on the Suwanee river, adjacent to the .southern sea coast and the territory of the Yendots in the north. The name ( Kan-tuck-ee ) is compounded from the Shawanese and signifies a land or place at the head of a river.

"The chosen place of residence of the Wyandots was, at an early period, as it is now (1838), on the waters of the Saun-dus-tee, or Sandusky. Though greatly reduced in number, they have, perhaps, attained a higher degree of civilization than any other tribe in the vicinity of the northwestern lakes.

"The foregoing sketch of the history of the Wyandots, though certainly not strictlv neces.sarv. will, it is hoped, be deemed not altogether inappropriate as an introduction to the following brief narrative of the circumstances attending the death of a chief of that nation. The particulars have been recentlv communicated by persons who were eye-witnesses of the execution, and ma)' be relied on as perfectly accurate:

"In the evening of the first day of June, in the year 1810, there came six \\'yandot warriors to the house of Benjamin Sells, on the Scioto river, about twehe miles abo\e the spot where now stands the city of Columbus. They were equipped in the most warlike manner and exhibited, during their stay, an unusual degree of agitation. Having ascertained that an old Wyandot chief, for whom they had been making diligent inquiry, was then encamped at a distance of about two miles farther up the west bank of the river, they expressed a determination to put him to death, and immediately went off in the direction of his lodge. These facts were communicated early in the ensuing morning to John Sells. Mr. Sells immediately proceeded up the river on horseljack in quest of the Indians. He soon arrived at the lodge, which he found situated in a grove of sugar trees close to the bank of the ri\-er. The six warriors were seated, in consultation, at the distance of a few rods from the lodge. The old chief was with them, exidently in the character of a prisoner. His arms were confined by a small cord, but he sat with them without any manifestation of uneasiness. A few of the neighboring white men were likewise there and a gloc'miy looking Indian who had been the companion of the chief, Init now kept entirely aloof, was sitting sullenly in the camp. Mr. Sells aijpmached the Indians and found them earnestly engaged in deljate. A charge of 'witchcraft' had been made at a former time against the chief by some of his captors, whose friends had been destroyed, as they believed, by means of his evil pov.ers. This crime, according to the immemorial usage of the tril)e, in\ol\ed a forfeiture of his life. The chances of a hunter's life had bmught the uld man to his present location, and his pursuers had sought him out in order that they might execute upon him the sentence of their law. The council was of two or three hours' duration. The accusing party spoke alternately, w ith much ceremony, but with evident bitterness of feeling. The prisoner, in his replies, was eloquent though dispassionate. Occasionally a siuile of scorn would appear, for an instant, on his countenance. At the close of the consultation it was ascertained that they had re-afifirmed the sentence of <le;ith which had been before passed upon the chief. Inquiry having been made by some of the white men with reference to tlieir arrangements, the captain of the six warriors pointed to the sun, and signified to them that the execution would take place at one o'clock in the afternoon. Mr. Sells went to the cai)tain and asked him what the chief had done. 'Very bad Indian,' lie replied, 'make good Indian sick - make horse sick - make die - very bad chief.' Air. Sells then made an effort to persuade his white friends to rescue the \ictim of superstition from his impending fate, but to no purpose. They were then in a frontier situation, entirely open to the incursions of the Xorthern tribes and were, consequently, unwilling to subject themselves to the tlisijleasure oi their sa\age \'isitor by an interference with their operations. He then proposetl to release the chief by purchase, offering to the captain for that purpose a fine horse of the value of three hundred tloUars. 'Let me him see.' said the Indian. The horse was accordingly brought forward and closely examined, and so much were they staggered by this proposition that they again repaired to their place of consultation and remained in council a considerable length of time before it was finalh' rejected. The conference was again terminated and h\e of the Indians began to amuse themsehes ^\ ith running, jumping and other athletic exercises. The captain took no part with them. When again in(|uired of as to the time of execution, be pointetl to the sun. as before, and indicated the hour as four. The jjrisoner then walkeil slitwly to his camp, partook of a dinner of jerked \enison, washetl and arra_\ed himself in his best apparel and afterward painted his face. His dress was \ery rich, his hair gray and his whole appearance graceful and commanding. At his request the whole compan\- drew around him at the lodge. He hatl obser\-ed the exertions made by Mr. .Sells in his behalf, and now presented to him a written paper, with a request that it might be read to the compan}-. It was a recommendation signed by Governor Hull, and in compliance with the request of the prisorier, it was fixed and left upon the side of a large tree at a short distance from the wigwam.

hour of execution being close at hand, the chief shook hands in silence with the surrounding spectators. On coming to Mr. Sells, he appeared much mo\ed, grasped his hand warmly, spoke for a few minutes in the Wyandot language and pointed to the hea\ens. He then turned from the wigwam and with a voice of surpassing strength and melody commenced the chant of the death-song. He was followed closely by the Wyandot warriors, all timing, with their slow and measured march, the music of his wild and melancholy dirge. The white men were all, likewise, silent followers in that strange procession. At the distance of seventy or eighty yards from the camp they came to a shallow grave, which, unknown to the white men, had been previously prepared by the Indians. Here the old man knelt down, and in an elevated but solemn tone of ^'oice addressed his prayer to the Great Spirit. As soon as he had finished the captain of the Indians knelt beside him and prayed in a similar manner. Their prayers, of course, were spoken in the Wyandot tongue. When the\- arose the captain was again accosted by Mr. Sells, who insisted that if they were inflexible in the determination to shed blood the}' should at least remove their victim beyond the limits of the white settlements. 'Xo!' said he very sternly and with evident displeasure, 'no good Indian 'fraid--he no go with this bad man - mouth give fire in the dark night - good Indian 'fraid - he no go! My friend,' he continued, 'me tell }ou - white man bad man - white man kill him - Indian say nothing.' Finding all interference futile, JMr. Sells was at length compelled, reluctantly, to abandon the old man to his fate. .Vfter a few moments' delay he again sank down upon his knees and prayed as he had done before. When he had ceased praying, he still continued in a kneeling position. All the rifles belongi-ng to the party had been left at the wigwam. There was not a weapon of any kind to be seen at the place of execution, and the spectators were, consequently, unable to form any conjecture as to the mode of procedure which the executioners had cletenuiued on for the fulfillment of their purpose. Suddenly one of the warriors drew from beneath the skin of his capote a keen, bright tomahawk, walked rapidly up behind the chieftain, brandished the weapon on high for a single moment, and then struck with his whole strength. The blow descended directly upon the crown of the head and the victim ininiediately fell prostrate. After he had laid awhile in the agonies of death, the Indian captain directed the attention of the white man to the drops of sweat which were gathering upon his neck and f::ce, remarking, with much apparent exultation, that it was conclusive proof of the sufferer's guilt. Again the e:secutioner advanced and with the same weapon inflicted two or three additional heavy blows. As soon as life was entirely extinct the body was hastily buried with all its apparel and decorations and the assemblage dispersed. The Wyandots returned immediately to their huntinggrounds and the white men to their homes. The murdered chief was known among the whites by the name of Leatherlips. Around the spot where his bones repose the towering forest has now given place to the grain field and the soil above him has for years been furrowed and re-furrowed by the plowshare.''

In "Thatcher's Indian Biography," as stated by Mr. Curry, the Indian name of the old chief is given as Shateyaronrah, and Tecumseh and his brother, the Prophet (Elskwatawa) were his accusers. B}- the same authority it appears that the famous chief Tarhe, or the Crane, was the leader of the l:)and of Wyandots who executed the unfortunate chieftain. This would hardly seem probable from most exidence, and in Drake's Life of Tecumseh it is stated, in connection with this incident, that "the si.x Wyandots who put him to death were headed, it is supposed, by the chief. Roundhead."

"Sugar Run falls, on the land of Col. James Curry, was, in the early days, a beautiful and attractive place. The stream wound its way through a little valley, shaded by burr oaks and black walnut timber, and surrounded, as it was, b\- good hunting and fishing grounds, it was a favorite place for the Indians in the early years of the present century. The old Indian trace, leading from the \\'yandot nation south, ran past the falls, and the Indians continued to tra\-el this route after there was quite a settlement along Sugar Run.

along tliis route and was one in whom they had great confidence. When they left the falls they separated, two following the old trail and two traveling in a southwesterly direction. In a few weeks two of them again reached the falls and had with tliem an Indian pony. They remained a day or two and their two companions not arriving ( it is supposed this was to be their place of meeting), they then stripped the bark from a burr oak tree and taking yellow keel, which was in great abundance along the stream, traced on the trunk of the tree in rude characters, an Indian leading a pony, while another Indian was in the rear with a gun on his shoulder and the ramrod in his hand as if in the act of driving the pony, traveling northward. This done, thev covered their camp fire and took the old Indian trail north. A few evenings after their departure, their two comrades arrived from the south and, learning hv the drawings on the tree that their companions had preceded them, they remained over night, and the next morning took the trace and moved rapidly north. And thus the last Indians ever seen on the southern border of Union county took their dejaarture from their once happy hunting