Wyandot County, Ohio - Town of Uppee Sandusky - Crane Township, 1884 (part 1 of 3)

Town of Uppee Sandusky - Crane Township

Location - Reference to Preceding Chapters - Original Plan of the Town as Surveyed - Its Streets - Lots - Points of Interest in the Indian Town of Upper Sandusky - Its First White Residents - Made THE County Seat - The Residents of 1845 - Early Festivities - Col. McCutchen's Pen Picture of the Town in 1846 - Population at Different Periods - Gradual Progress to Date - Reminiscences of Early Inhabitants - Corporate History - Banks and Bankers - Manufacturing Interests - Secret Associations, Etc. - Church Organizations - Wyandot County Bible Society - Wyandot Sabbath School Union - Oak Hill Cemetery - Early School Teachers - Present Schools.

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

Respecting its early history, we will state here, parenthetically, that throughout all of the chapters of Part III of this work, frequent and pertinent allusions will be found, especially in Chapters III to XI inclusive. We have there shown how and when the lands upon which it is built came into the possession of the Wyandot Indians. That in later years it was the grand rallying point of the hostile Northwestern tribes during their wars against the Americans; that its site was visited by Col. Crawford's command of Pennsylvanians in June, 1782; that during the war of 1812- 15 it again became prominent in National afifairs and history, by reason of the assemblage here of large bodies of American troops under Gen. Harrison and Gov. Meigs, and as the site of Fort Ferree; that in 1817 it was made the central point of the chief Wyandot Reserve, and it thus continued as the seat of their council house, church, store, jail, etc., until 181:3, when they, the Wyandots, removed, in accordance with treaty stipulations, to a region lying west of the Missouri River. Therefore, to avoid an unnecessary repetition, we commence our historical sketch of the town of Upper Sandusky with the year 1843 - the date its site was surveyed and platted under the provisions of an act of Congress.

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

Originally, including outlots, the town lots extended from the west bank of the Sandusky River westward to Warpole street, and fi'om Church street on the north southward to the south line of the fourth tier of outlots lying south from Crawford street, or to the point now termed South street. The inlots, however, being 380 in number, were bounded on the north by Bigelow street, on the east by Front street from Bigelow to Walker street, and by Spring street from Walker to Crawford street, on the south by Crawford street, and on the west by Eighth street.

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

This plan also indicates the exact location of various points of interest in old Upper Sandusky, which, with the exception of the " graveyard " and the William Walker house, which still stands on the southwest corner of Walker and Fourth streets, have long since entirely disappeared from view. Thus on Outlot No. 49, f which is bounded on the north by Walker street, east by Third street, south by Wyandot avenue, and west by an alley or the continuation of Spring street, stood the ruins of Fort Ferree. Upon the same lot, and directly northeast from the fort, stood the Indian jail, which, constructed of hewn timbers, and standing upon the point of the bluff, jutted beyond the street line into Third street. The council house stood upon Inlot No. 90. Directly north of it is shown the graveyard, which occupying the crest and slope of the bluff, and a space equal to four inlots or one acre, is bounded on the west by Fourth street, north by an alley, east by Spring street and south by Johnston street. The inclosure contains the remains of members of the Walker, Garrett, Williams, Armstrong, Clark, Hicks and Brown families, besides those of many others, a majority of whom were either part or full-blooded Wyandot Indians. Again glancing at this map of the town, we find that William Walker's I'esidence stood upon Inlot No. 211, or near the southwest corner of Walker and Fourth streets. His store was south from his house, and occupied a portion of Inlot No. 193. Clark's house rested in the center of Walker street, near the west line of Third. "Garrett's tavern," which stood near the northeast corner of W^yandot avenue and Fourth street, occupied portions of Inlots 159 and 160, as well as Fourth street. Hicks' habitation* rested partly on Inlot No. 70 and Fifth street. Brown's cabin was directly south from the council house, on Inlot No. 19, and Armstrong's dwelling stood near the center of Outlot No. 12. Other buildings, though probably they were not of much value, were standing in ]843, upon Inlots No. 56, 106, 156, 165, 212 and 217, but the names of the original owners or occupants are not given. It will thus be observed that the first residents of this locality - the Indians and their friends of mixed blood - chose the most dry and picturesque positions as sites for their council house, jail and dwellings.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The greensward was our table, and never was festive board, surrounded with lighter hearts than ours. The grass afforded pleasant seats; and the attitudes, as we reclined around the daintily ordered feast, were purely classical. Of course there were coquet- will, perting, ogling, honied words, and tender glances, and those who were hooked, chance, learn in future to beware of the "fishers of men."

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

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

In the first place, in relation to Upper Sandusky. It has improved beyond the most extravagant calculations. It is but a little over a year ago since the General Government sold the town lots and land, and now some 800 inhabitants reside here. There are six dry good stores - three too many - about the same number of groceries, four hotels, mechanical shops of various kinds, and the town is still improving.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Old Stoem

In 1845 and 1846, perhaps extending into 1847, there lived in Upper Sandusky a man by the name of Storm. He was a Frenchman - a French patriot. Every fiber of his nature was French; every feeling and impulse an irrepressible desire to once more look upon the beauties and grandeur of Paris. He would talk glibly of the Boulevards and the Palais Royal " on zee Rue Richelieu;" and gave you plainly to understand, that more than " zee hundred time," had he joined in the uproar of " Vive 1' Empereur!"

He was one of Napoleon's old guards. He saw, as well as felt, the carnage and destruction at Waterloo, and was one of the survivors of that terrific struggle. In his way he was quite a character, and knew just enough of English to make his broken I'reuch a jingle of quaintness and humor. A single man was Storm through an eventful life, because the old guard " never surrendered ;" and moreover, no thought nor care had he taken of the morrow. How he happened to drift into Upper Sandusky was never fully explained, for old Storm was only communicative when in liquor, and the topic then uppermost in his mind was Napoleon and the French Army. He could think and talk of nothing else, and when referring to the Emperor's exile, would weep like a child. His worship of Bonaparte had all the feeling and fullness of adoration, and the music of his pronunciation in uttering the name of " Na-po-le-on," had that sweet and peculiar ripple which forever lingers in the recollection.

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

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

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

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

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

One of the characters of Upper Sandusky in 1846, was a rotund, Punch - and- Judy sort of a fellow by the name of Dancer. He was about as broad as long and twice as natural. The fat boy in Pickwick is an excellent picture of him, although he differed from the Pickwickian protuberance in one very essential quality. While the Pickwickian fat boy was always falling asleep, Dancer never knew what it was to bob an eye when old Huber was around.

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

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

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

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

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

It was very dark, was the domicil when he approached it; he thought he would turn in quietly and not disturb his soul- lit happy better-half. But behold his surprise on entering the shop, where, without the aid of even star-light, he found Mrs. Dancer and one of his customers conversing on scripture, each insisting that there was no hell this side of Chicago. As Dancer was opposed to the discussion of religious subjects at the barber shop in his absence, he got up on his ear and just riddled things. The seltzer acted well in his work of destruction, and the barber shop soon looked like the last rose of the summer in a turnip patch. Of course this raised considerable of a scandal in a town of 300 inhabitants, and the customer's family was the first to hear the glad tidings. The wife wanted to know on what part of the scriptures he and Mrs. Dancer differed, when the husband, in despair, grabbed a rope, bid good-bye to his family and broke for the stable; ho manipulated the rope over a joist and adjusted it to his neck, waiting in great anxiety for the family to rush out and roscue bim, but they didn't rescue worth a cent. Presently, one of his daughters went out to see how the corpse looked, when the would-be suicide suggested that he couldn't think of it just now, as " a circus would be here next week," and he wanted to see one more elephant before he joined Lazarus in Abraham's bosom.

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

T. Spybey, Tailor

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

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

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

This was the bright side of T. Spybey, Tailor. If it had only been this, the angels would have spread their white wings over his home, and hung the brightest flowers upon his little tin sign, wafting upward the inspiration of one whose nature seemed all goodness; but this was not to be, for T. Spybey, Tailor, was human; and it was human for T. Spybey, Tailor, to get drunk. And of all men to revel at exercises bachanalian, in the language of A. (xottfried. Esq., he was " the boss." When he worked at his trade, T. Spybey, Tailor, had no communion with the cup, but periodical drunks he would have, and continued them sometimes for weeks. It was in these drunken sprees that he became notoi'ious. He never lost the use of his limbs, but was always on the go, calling on the neighborhood many times a day, flashing forth the oddities of his humoi'ons natnre, reduced and distorted by the bug juice of that early period.

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

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

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

As the world moved on, T. Spybey, Tailor, moved with it, out of one spree into another, sinking deeper as the waves gathered, with the faithful little boy still clinging to the wreck. When sickness and hunger peeped into the frame shanty, some relative or friend appeared, cared for the neglected child and nursed the father back to health. Then the little tin sign of " T. Spybey, Tailor," was taken dovvn, the house sold, and father, son and friend bid adieu to Sandusky, never more to look upon the place or its people.

Russel Bigelow, Ingin

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

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

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

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

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

In 1815, Russel returned to Upper Sandusky very much demoralized. He had punished all the whisky lying around loose in Canada, and come back to finish up on the old stamping-ground. For a short time after his return he carried with him a bow and arrow and shot for "little dimes," as he called the small Mexican or Spanish piece, then so much in circulation, representing in value 65 cents. These little dimes were carefully deposited at the Log Corner in exchange for " hy-key." He would bet you a little dime that he could put an arrow through a little chip thrown into the air, before the aforesaid little chip would fall to the ground, and he would do it evei-y time. When he wasn't at this pleasant occupation, he would make bows and arrows for the boys, and the result was, that every boy in town who could, by any manner of means, get hold of a quarter, became a patron of Russel Bigelow. In those early times the boys didn't attack the old man and make him stand and deliver, like they do now. A qiaarter was a huge pile of money to the Upper Sandusky youngster in those days; the only fortunate exception was Cy. Mason, who was backed by the Hedges' estate and a liberal-minded dad. That is why the quarter bows became a little aggravating when Cy. would splurge around, spoiling the heads of chickens, with a dollar outfit, upon which Russel had expended all his skill and the genius of his race. Thus Russel's unerring aim at shooting chips in the air and making bows and arrows for the boys kept him pretty well supplied with "little dimes," and as long as they lasted, it was "heap whisky for big Ingin." His meals were taken at everybody's kitchen, and for lodging he generally selected one of the two blacksmith shops then existing in town. His partiality for blacksmith shops was on account of those institutions yielding him assistance in furnishing metal and the facilities for making arrow heads; and then, too, he would frequently pick up a little dime for holding somebody's horse, while the blacksmith swore at him, preparatory to nailing on a shoe. Sometimes when the horse was delicate and of good family, and Abe Trager the artist to manipulate a pair of troublesome hind feet, he would hire Bigelow to take the "cussing" which Russel would bear with Christian fortitude for a little dime. So the live Indian moved on, always managing to keep himself full of whisky or hy-key, as he called it.

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

Russel, however, didn't i-emain long with his brethren. The civil service reform man who dispensed Government annuities to the Wyandots, compromised with Russel on a barrel of forty-rod, and he soon sprouted into a little angel. He had traveled to the dark river and crossed over, ever aiming at the chip in the air, w^hich still illumined with a halo of promise, sank forever in the great and mysterious hereafter; or in other words, Russel became a snake charmer, and died of the jim-jams,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This proceeding was more than Father Taggart could stand. He had studied vocal music for forty years, and particularly the art of starting hymns in several different languages, and to be deprived of this chosen desire of his life by an old architect, was the hair that broke the camel's back; so he gathered up his hymn-book and tuning-fork and bid good-by to foreordination. He sought refuge in another church where he had full sway in pitching the tune, much to his own delight and pleasure of the congregation; for Taggart was a good singer, much better than McCurdy, but lacked the dash and rapidity of the old architect. The only thing the architect lacked was a few dozen teeth which gave to his baritone something like a cross between the dinner horn and a bass drum.

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

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

Elisha also applied his artistic skill in unceremoniously removing bonnets and shawls, and in putting hickorynut shells under chairs for the wor- shipers to kneel down upon. Elishas tricks had become so much a matter of remark that he was credited with all the innocent depredations that occiirred in town, and the result was that the old man was frequently seen chasing Elisha with a war club ; and yet there was nothing mean or malicious about the boy. It was simply to appease his passion for fun that he indulged in these capers, willing to take the punishment they brought rather than abandon them.

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

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

Bivens, Shoemaker And Mayor

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

The first election for corporation oflScers took place in 1848. W. W. Bates was elected Mayor, and Jacob Juvinall Recorder. Jake was one of oar best-looking fellows in those days, and was faultless in his dress and manners. Besides he was as popular as he was good looking. He was the only one elected on the W^hig ticket, defeating Henry Miller, then fresh from the Mexican war, and another handsome fellow. W^e don't recollect who were elected to the Council, nor does anybody else. This city government, during its regime, spent $45.62, and the people just rose in their majesty and smashed things. The Mayor and Recorder maintained their dignity and the confidence of the people. They had nothing to do with this extraordinary expenditure of money. The Council did it. It had tbe audacity to pay Bill Giles $1 for publishing a column ordinance "to protect live fences." Maj. Soars was then interested in a live fence enterprise, and it was thought that he inspired this reckless expenditure of a hundred cents. The other $44.62 was expended for the good of the public in quarters and fifty- cent pieces, $3.72 going into a mud hole in front of the Mcllvane House, now Van Marter's old stand.

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

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

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

On a beautiful spring morning the contending parties met. The Whigs in full war paint - the opposition with their hands full of tickets upon which were printed the picture of a stoga boot. When the smoke of battle cleared away, it was found the Stoga ticket was elected with the exception of one councilman who was defeated a few votes by Dr. Ferris. Did Dr. Ferris serve? Well, you can just smile that he did'nt. He walked \\p and paid his two dollars for the privilege of resigning.

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

Bivens, overcome with joy at so sudden a freak of good fortune, with its privileges and attending honor, stalked into his shoe shop, and from thence next door into his parlor, and catching a glimpse of his graceful better half, struck an attitude: "Barbara, behold your Bivens! Look into my eyes darling, and tell me, if in the fondest dream of yonr life, you ever expected to sleep with a 'mare;' " for that was the way he always persisted in spelling it. The good wife melted to tears and assured Bivens that she always thought some grand fortune would overtake them, but this distinction and h(mor overwhelmed her. "Don't let us be proud William, but let us continue to speak to common folks as usual. Let us set an example to other gi'eat p9ople of the town; but William, I must have a graud wardrobe, to reflect in part, the dazzling splendor of your white vest, on state occasions."

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

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

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

The prisoner " was collected " and taken to the shoe shop, where he demanded a trial. The IMayor winked pleasantly, and said there would be no trial - not if the court knew itself. He saw the shooting with his own little eye, and that was sufficient. "Fine - $1 and costs - cash! Marshal, take charge of the funds." But the prisoner at the bar, or rather at the shoe bench, wasn't to be treated in that summary manner. He demanded his rights as an American citizen of Crawford County descent, and that while the Mayor saw him " did shoot," he was there ready for trial with an array of home talent who would swear that they didn't see him shoot, and that the burden of proof was in his favor." Furthermore, he had McKelly to defend him, and you all know in those days McKelly had a voice, and a combination of aesthetic adjectives at which the angels would spread their wings and fly away; but Bivens wasn't an angel, and he couldn't spread; he had to stay on earth and struggle through the volley. At last crouching under the panoply of his ofiice, he ordered Mack under arrest for contempt of court. As there was no officer in the shoe shop big enough to tackle Mack, the case rested until courts when Bivens shouldered his docket, walked in where the blind girl was dangling her scales, spread his case before the Judge, and made an appeal for suffering humanity; but as Judge Bowen was not of the kind who cared for suffering humanity, unless it took the form and shape of a lovely woman, Bivens was ordered to get out, and make room for Blunderbus vs. Hurricane - a noted case that involved the value of a $2-pig.

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

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

Tabler, The Revivalist

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

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

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

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

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

Tabler was a peciiliar man; tall, spare, somewhat cadaverous in appearance, with hair black as coal, and a pair of eyes so full of expression that they seem to talk and tell you how wicked you were. With these qualities he had a wonderful voice, plastic and yet so thrilling, that it was no trick at all for him to yank a "hallelujah " from any one inclined to give way to religious emotions. While perhaps he was the most illiterate man that ever swung from a pulpit, there was something so pleasingly fascinating and magnetic about him that he had only to open his mouth to become eloquent. With a sublime fervor he would thrill you with the utterance of words that in themselves were meaningless. His blunders, sometimes, would choke you with sympathy, until you could sufficiently recover to enjoy a smile. If he had said the moon was made of green cheese, you would instantly have wept for the poor moon, so wonderful was this man in the gift of expressing thought without regard to language. It seemed that he could plume any word to express the sympathy of his soul, and throw the same effect into the feelings of his audience. All his sentences ended in " ah," and frequently many of his words; but these " ahs " shook you up and held you suspended by the hair; and it was only when you lost sight of Tabler that you could unstring your nerves and see the ridiculousness of your situation.

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

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

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

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

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

The Ramsay under discussion dropped from, no one knows where, upon a forty-acre tract of unimproved land in Antrim Township, and commenced life as a farmer. He was a tall, good-looking fellow, only remarkable for the size of his lips, and the critical glare that made prominent a large pair of blue eyes. His energy was only exceeded by his ambition. To battle life in the woods with convenience and economy, he married; but making rails at 50 cents a hundred didn't agree with young Ramsay's diaphragm, and, concluding that there was an easier road to fortune, it was not long before a man of his indomitable will found and pursued it. In reading one of Jayne's almanacs and learning of the fabulous sums of money made out of pills and cough syrup, Ramsay made up his mind to be a doctor, and every spare moment from daily labor was given to the study of medicine. Lacking in education, the study was a difficult one; for those terrible Latin jawbreakers would shake him up and hold him suspended over the picture of a skeleton, in that doubt and despair which rattled through his head in a thousand aches. But he did not surrender - he wasn't that kiad of a Ramsay. He had the distinction of his Scotch lineage to brace him, ani what he lacked in classics was more than made up by the magic spell which surrounded a great name - the name of Ramsay!

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

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

Ramsay, through his early struggles and disappointments, had become quite a misanthrope. He acknowledged without decent hesitancy that he no longer loved his wife nor cared for his children; that his marriage was the result of ignorance, and his family a misfortune. He had an aversion for the society of men, and was only in agreeable elements when he had for a companion some mild-eyed boy who could listen enchanted at the wonders of Ramsay; and the sketcher was usually that mild-eyed imitation of bifurcated humanity. He used to say that the success of a young physician was in looking wise and feeding his patient on any amount of harmless preparations, such as white sugar, flour, starch, etc. He said he gained his first triumph by looking at old Brown's tongue, which was wrapped in about four coats of dog-leg tobacco; and the altisonant explanation he gave of the color of that tongue, conducting it through the realms of most beautiful metaphor to the lower lobe of the old man's liver, met with a pleasing response. The old patient, full of gratitude, shook the Doctor's hand, and said he was the only physician that understood h4s case. He knew it was his liver, but that contrary old woman of his always insisted that it was nothing but dog-leg. So Ramsay put on a wise look and treated this man for a bad liver. He left him a half peck of pulverized licorice to be taken in small doses with the regularity of clock work, spreading over all the caution that his patient, during the use of this powerful medicine, should beware of stimulants, especially anything that had the narcotic effect of garlic or tobacco. He threw in the garlic to pull the old man off the scent. The result was that in a few days old Brown was himself again, sounding the praises of Ramsay all over the neighborhood. He only charged him $50, which Brown thought was entirely too cheap, and in addition made the doctor lug home a spring calf and a bag of potatoes. He owed his resuscitated liver to Ramsay, and if he wanted a barn raised or a note indorsed, all he had to do was to call on his friend Brown. At this, Ramsay melted to tears, and said he wouldn't have charged a cent, but that liver medicine was so terribly expensive. It could be got nowhere nearer than the Alps; that it was discovered by Bonaparte while crossing the Red Sea - a beautiful brook of pure carmine which meanders through a crevice in that wonderful peak. " History, Brown, histoiy, is where the effulgence of this beneficent drug first poured upon me its limpid light. No other physician has this wonderful work of ' Bonaparte after a Bad Liver.' "

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

" My dear Ram - We are through with the business, but since your manikin has been sleeping for the last week with Russell Bigelow, we consider its character ruin."

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

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

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

It was intimated that the beautiful La Belle I'eturned from heaven by way of the Isthmus as soon as the 125,000 were secured, and is now the wife of a curled mustache who knows how to handle the supple and unscrupulous stiletto. Was the Doctor wise? You can smile that he was - vei'y, very wise, and 'correspondingly discreet, in not seeking for his wife in Spain; for verily, a still, small voice became resonant, that it would scarcely be healthy for Ramsay to circulate in that beautiful, yet perfidious Spain, where the stiletto secures what the law oftimes is powerless to maintain.

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

"Halloo, Abe, can you shoe my horse, to-day?" "Well, don't know, Bill; Red Thread is here with four turkeys, which he borrowed from a fellow 'cross the river, and we are having it red hot on a raffle to see who takes the pile. Come in. Bill; let your old nag go a couple of days. Can't? Want to go to mill? Out of flour? Well, get oif your horse and take a throw. I've got lots of flour, and you can help yourself. And Tom's here; so is Jim, and so is old Steve, drunk as a fiddler's bycicle. O, get ofif - hitch; what's the use of being a d - n fool for a little flour, when there's bushel's of fun for five cents? Russ., you ugly old Ingin, get up and give Bill a seat on the anvil." Allow the sketcher to introduce Abe Trager, blacksmith.

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

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