DeKalb County, Indiana - Chapter 3: Early Settlement of County, 1914

Chapter 3: Early Settlement of County

Pioneer history, at its best, is an elusive subject. Records in the days when our fathers hewed their homes from the wilderness were not preserved, and consequently the few sources of information in regard to the faraway days are treasures which must be guarded zealously by the future men and women of the county, lest the tales and deeds of the sturdy settlers be lost from view. Pioneer history grows with the telling; there is glamour and interest centering around the hardships and hard-fought battles of the early day which will bear the retelling numberless times. What if bits of imagination are introduced in the retelling? Any life is prosaic in the stern reality, and narrative beauty is added by the coloration of the pure facts : of course, adherence to the facts is a prime requisite.

Settlements were miles apart in the early nineteenth century, and social intercourse was difficult. Log rollings, husking bees, barbecues, cabin buildings, and other pioneer entertainments afforded the only opportunities for the people to congregate together, and these periods were generally months apart. So the pioneer lived alone with his family, in the silent and mighty forest, sallying out before dawn to shoot the game for the day's food supply or to cast a line in the stream nearby. The clothes were manufactured by the woman who sat for days before the loom; linsey-woolsey and homespun, adorned with skins of small animals, were the popular weaves. A hardiness of soul and body was the result of this life, and men were steelcast. Today's civilization is deteriorating, but the effects of money and luxuries are too near to us to merit discussion in a work such as this volume. It is to the first men of the county and their influence upon the building up of the county, that this chapter must serve.

First Settlers

The first settler known to have entered the bounds of DeKalb county to make a permanent settlement was John Houlton. He was born in Highland county, Ohio, on September 21, 1804. He built the first house in the county here on section i, Franklin township, where he resided until his death, June

2, 1875. Having married jMiss Sarali Fee on February 5, 1833, Houlton, in September of the same year, took three hired men, a yoke of oxen, a crosscut saw and a fro, came on to forty acres which he had entered and in four days had cut the logs for, and raised and covered a house. Settlers prior to 1840 were presented with canes made from the timbers of this first cabin.

Houlton hauled out and buried twenty bushels of potatoes, and left them until he moved on a month later, and the Indians, then numerous, left the vegetables undisturbed. Here, then, in 1833, we find the log cabin of John Houlton alone in the wilderness, its occupants ten miles from Denmark, the nearest settlement. Grain was brought from the prairies, ground at White Fidgeon, and then with many struggles in mire-holes, creeks and sloughs, this heroic pioneer journeyed homeward. Night after night passed at the little cabin, where devoted wife and sister and daughter awaited his return, the howling of the wolves and the half-human scream of the panther awaking their solicitude for the dear one absent.

In 1834, John Fee entered land to the amount of over five hundred acres, partly in DeKalb and partly in Steuben. He was followed by Charles Boyer and later by Luther Keep, Charles Crain, and Peter Boyer. During the year 1834, eight pioneers moved into the county by way of Fort Wayne. Their names are : Peter Fair, and his sons Abram and Charles ; Charles F. Crouse, George Delong, and Andrus, Jacob and John Surface. On October ist, they entered Butler township, with a four-horse team and a wagon. They cut their road from Squire Caswell's in Allen county, beyond Huntertown, five miles to the place where they settled, and also a good share of the way from Fort ^^''ayne, as the track was too narrow and crooked for a four-horse team. Our plan, said Abram Fair, was to come out, build cabins, make a beginning, and then return to winter in our old homes in Montgomery county, Ohio, and bring on the families in the spring. Provisions for the trip were brought along, excepting meat which was expected to be obtained by killing deer, but deer were found quite scarce that season, and there was a consequent disappointment. One day Andrew Surface found a hollow tree on Black Creek; a bear had gnawed a hole and helped himself to the store of honey, but upon chopping into the tree six gallons of honey \yere obtained. Bee trees were soon found afterwards, and a supply obtained to last the entire party twenty days, and on their return to Ohio, they took along twenty-one gallons of strained honey. The honey-bee is seen to have preceded the settlement of the county, and bee hunters were successful. Then the bee-moth threatened to exterminate the insect, but later S. Rogers and I. Diehl had large apiaries, and made bee culture a success. During the folhiwing year, settlers entered land in different parts of the coiint}^ and soon the work of brush burning, log rolling, rail splitting, and cabin raising was under headway. Clearings were met with at wide intervals, and the dense forest of the county re-echoed to the stroke of the ax, as trees came crashing and thundering down.

In the early part of the year 1836 comparatively few settlers were located within the bounds of what is now DeKalb county. Homer Blake, below Spencerville ; David Butler ; Samuel Wasson ; John Mathews ; Mr. Yates, near Spencerville ; Mr. Rhodes and sons ; Jeremiah Rhodes ; Mr. Brandt and Crannel Rood, also near Spencerville; William Mathews; George and David Mathews ; Mr. Lytle and Jared Ball, near Orangeville ; Washington Robinson, on the present site of Newville ; and William Rodgers and Jacob Platter, near Newrille; were those who resided here before the year 1836, most of them in the southern part of the present area known as DeKalb county. This was before the formal organization of the county of DeKalb. A portion of the territory was attached to Lagrange and a portion to Allen county.

Early in the year 1836, John Blair settled on a farm, on which place he lived his entire life. Charles Wilber, near Orangeville; William Burley, in the same locality ; Joseph Ludwig ; Judge Walden and Ariel Rood, farther up the river. Toward the end of the year Judge Samuel Widney located on the farm where he spent the rest of his days, and John P. Widney on the farm owned now by A. I. Richmond; Benjamin Alton on the farm which was later the Dr. Herrington place; Dr. Babcock on another farm; and Asher Coburn and relatives, in the Coburn settlement. During the same season Wesley Park settled on the site of Auburn, and laid out the town.

Early Life

The pioneer, in his journey to the county, met with many reverses, in one form or another. He traveled through untrodden forests, poled and rowed his boat along swollen streams, and often was delayed for days by accidents. Roads had to be cut through the forest and improvised bridges constructed over the larger streams. A good illustration of the method of pioneer travel is the experience of Judge Widney, from central Pennsylvania.

From his home in the last mentioned state, Judge Widney came by canal to the Allegheny mountains, over the mountains by steam road, then again by canal to Dayton, Ohio, thence by wagons through the black swamp to Fort Wayne, Indiana. On horseback he and his wife came up the Indian trail along the St. Joseph river, while his family, in care of John P. Widney and wife, came in the pirogue of Judge Walden and Thomas Gorrell, who had come down for provisions. The pirogue was "poled" along the river, and everything went well until they reached a ripple near David Butler's home, when the boat, having turned broadside against the current, was capsized, precipitating the occupants in the stream. The goods floated down stream and the people floundered around in the water which was, at that point, three or four feet deep. Some of the larger children succeeded in getting ashore, while the w4fe of John P. Widney grasped a five-year-old child (afterward Mr. Widney's second wife) and helped her to the bank. The men scattered down the river to retain the luggage which had floated down. One trunk containing a considerable sum of money, was recovered fullv a mile from the scene of the accident.

Joseph Miller, the first surveyor of DeKalb county, and his father transported their goods by way of Fort Wayne to Shryock's mill, and from thence to the farm about a mile below Auburn. They were forced to cut their path through the dense forest. They left the most of their goods and their families on the Maumee, and penetrated the woods, going east, by means of a small pocket compass, to the St. Joseph, circling the worst and impassable swamps. They cut a road back, a distance of twelve miles, in order that their wagons might pass, and also had to bridge a tamarack swamp on the route. This road was afterward known as "Miller's trace," and served as a highway for many emigrants. It was located where the road now runs westward from the St. Joseph river, at the place of Judge Widney's.

The closest mill and market to the DeKalb county settlement was at Fort Wayne, about twenty-six miles from the center of the river colony by land, and nearly as far by the meandering river. There were no wagon-roads then, consequently the river was mostly utilized as a highway. Pirogues - large canoes hollowed from a tree trunk, preferably the poplar - were used as vehicles of navigation. They were generally three or four feet wide, and seventy to eighty feet long, thus would carry quite an amount of merchandise and provisions. Poles and paddles furnished the motive power. The task of poling these cumbersome boats up the river, especially when the water was too high for the poles to touch bottom, can easily be imagined.

Mr. Rhodes, of Newville, and Samuel Wasson, of Spencerville, were at one time compelled to pole, or pull, a loaded pirogue all the way from Fort Wayne to Spencerville by holding to the willows and other bushes along the river bank. It took them a full week to make the journey. Late in November, 1836, John P. Widney and a party came up with a load of provisions. The river was swollen from the fall rains, and the "slush ice" was running. Whenever the men drew their poles from the water the water turned to ice

Provisions at Fort Wayne at this time were not very plentiful. Flour sold for fourteen dollars per barrel, and was of an inferior grade at that. Corn in the ear was one dollar and fifty cents per bushel, and salt was two dollars and twenty-five cents per bushel. Other necessities were correspondingly high in value.

Thus, the early settlers of DeKalb county were frequently in a predicament in regard to their necessary provisions. The distance was great and the prices almost prohibitive. In fact, many families went hungry, with no means to supply themselves with adequate provisions. Potatoes were used for everything at times, even for bread, and then, some families considered themselves fortunate to get a few potatoes. Other families lived on wild vegetables gathered from the surrounding forest, and cooked as greens, with milk and beech bark. Fever and ague often visited one of these homes, and the utmost energy and strategy was required to prevent a complete loss of the home.

The Log Home

The log cabin of the early settler has practically disappeared from the state. It is interesting to note how these primitive homes were built, and the material used in their construction. The average cabin was about sixteen by eighteen feet in size, and just high enough for the joists below the first rib. The logs are cut one day and hauled to the site of the proposed cabin, where they are laid out. The next day the neighbors from miles around come in and assist in the work of throwing up the logs. Puncheons are split for the floors, one side being dressed off even with the axe, altogether about two inches thick. The heavy ribs are fastened to the logs, and clapboards put on the top, overlapping a third over each other. Heavy weight poles are laid along these clapboards to keep them in place. Butting poles are placed on the eave-bearer, projecting some two feet from the wall line of the cabin. A back wall is built of clay in the end of the cabin in which the owner intends to have his fireplace. The chimney, supported by sapling uprights, is built of alternate layers of mud and sticks. The windows are cut from the logs, and greased paper fastened over the aperture to permit light to enter. This constitutes the structure of the cabin itself, but there still remains the problem of furnishing the interior. Puncheons are used to make the tables, rough chairs, benches and beds.

Early Labor

Horses were very scarce in the early days, and consequently a great deal of the labor incident to farming had to be done by hand. Heavy timber was chopped, brush burned, logs rolled, rails split, and fields cleared without the aid of a team. The wife would often "pitch in" and help the husband, she clearing off the brush. The corn was planted, of course, by hand. William Mathews planted a fairly good crop of corn with a handspike, and tended it with a hoe. He inserted the sharp handspike diagonally into the soil, then dropped the seed into the aperture formed, and then pressed down the soil by stepping on it as he passed to the next hill.

Often the crop planting season came before the settler had cleared the brush from his land, and then he planted between the log heaps, frequently arranging the logs in windrows and leaving them to be burned when the crop was gathered.

First Events

The first wedding to occur among the residents of the DeKalb county settlement was that of Jared Ball and Melinda Slater. The wedding did not occur in the county, but in Williams county, Ohio, near Edgerton, the home of the bride's father. Ball paid the minister his fee in pumpkins. The first marriage to actually occur in DeKalb county, was that of Nelson Ulm and Elvira Lockwood, in the summer of 1837. The bride had to be assisted to the altar, and when there was too weak to stand up. The first marriage licenses taken out in the county were those of Francis Smith and Maria Gunsenhouser, and of John Platter and Ann Emmeline Walden. Both licenses were issued on September 5, 1837, and both marriages were performed by Washington Robinson, of Concord township, the first justice of the peace in the county.

The first funeral in the county was that of a Mrs. Barker, who lived just above the present site of Newville. Judge Widney was sent to deliver the funeral oration, there being no minister close enough. The Judge sang some hymns, prayed and talked in general about the subject of death.

The little village of Orangeville was the scene of the opening of the first store in DeKalb county, in the spring of 1837. John Platter. William Rogers, and a Mr. Savage and another man contributed two hundred dollars each, and put in a stock of merchandise, consisting of the articles most needed by the settlers at that time. John P. Widney was employed to cut logs for the store house, receiving the sum of two dollars for his services, performing the job

The first grist mill, or corn cracker, in the county was built and owned by William Mathews, on Bear creek, in the east part of the school section of Concord township. The mill was a very small affair, the stones were about two feet in diameter, and were turned by means of a flutter-wheeel on an upright post, set in a tub, through one side of which the water passed. The whole machinery was installed in a bare frame, without a semblance of weather-boarding or other protection. The corn dropped one grain at a time from the small hopper, and the best yield, when conditions were good, was eight bushels in twenty- four hours. Mr. Widney carried a half bushel of corn a distance of four miles to get it ground, and had to wait a half day.

Other Pioneers

Other prominent settlers along the St. Joseph river were: Solomon Belong, Daniel Strong, H. Fusselman, Christian and Samuel Wanemaker, Lott Herrick, who was the first probate judge of DeKalb county, Joseph E. Sawtell was the second merchant of the county, Rev. N. L. Thomas was the first to open a store in Newville, George Barney was one of the first justices of Concord, James Hadsell, Cornelius Woodcox, and Judge R. J. Dawson, who later filled many important positions in the county.

Colin Robinson and his brother, Henry, came to the Maumee, near Brunersburg, in 1833, and soon after their arrival, journeyed up the Maumee to where William Rogers then lived, a little below the future site of the village of Antwerp. From there they struck across the woods, guided by a pocket-compass, some fifteen or twenty miles, through the forest, to the St. Joseph river. When in the midst of the wilderness they were so unfortunate as to lose the needle from their small compass, and were forced to search for quite a time in the leaves before they found it. About dark they struck the blufi^ of the St. Joseph, and from there made their way, in the light of dusk, down the river for a mile. Mr. Lytle then lived in a cabin over the river, and the object of the Robinsons was to reach it and procure foor, for they had had nothing since early morning. The time was on the 24th of December, and upon reaching the river, they discovered that ice had formed about a quarter of the way across, making it necessary to camp immediately, and thus spend the night. By the side of a fallen walnut tree they "struck up" their fire and rested.

morning, which was Christmas day, 1833, they cut down a dry stump of a tree, which broke in twain when it fell. The men lashed the two pieces together with basswood bark, and launched it, after breaking the ice at the margin of the river. On this crude buoy they crossed the river, expecting to find a warm fire at the cabin. No one was at home at the Lytle cabin but the children, and nothing to eat but a single rabbit, which the men devoured, after losing half of it to the family cat. The Robinsons were there with the purpose of entering land, but finding provisions so scarce, returned to their starting point.

In the summer of 1834 or 1835 Solomon Belong and John Platter crossed this same wilderness, and losing their way in the midst, without water, were forced to camp for the night. They dug a hole in the swamp with their axes and discovered water, but it had such a disagreeable taste that they could scarcely drink it. The mosquitoes descended upon them in droves, and made sleep an impossibility. Belong and Platter cut bushes and covered them with green leaves. The men then crawled under these, and were comfortable for the rest of the night.

A Pioneer Honeymoon

In the winter of 1836-7, in the month of January, Colin Robinson, recently married, started on a bridal tour from the Maumee to the cabin built on his land along the St. Joseph, the bride on horseback and Colin on foot. Arriving at the "Mer-del-arm," a large creek between the rivers, running through Cottonwood swamps, he found it swollen by rains and melted snow, until it had overflown the swamps for a mile on each side. He waded through the water, his wife following on horseback, until' they came to the main channel of the creek which he found covered with thick ice, and raised up several feet by the high waters. Mr. Robinson persuaded his wife to dismount and stand upon a stump, while he made the horse mount the ice and cross to the other side. He then, by means of a pole placed from the stump to the ice, got Mrs. Robinson on the ice, and from the ice on the other side to her saddle again, he wading out as he had entered. The following summer Robinson and his brother went down the St. Joseph to Fort Wayne, and then down the Maumee to where Befiance now is, for the purpose of getting seed wheat, and corn to get ground. They traveled in a large pirogue ; loaded it with sixty bushels of grain and started back, but, being green hands at piroguing, they had considerable difficulty. Reaching Bull Rapids, near the state line, about eight miles below Fort Wayne, they ran on the rocks and stuck fast. The wind had ruffled the water so that they could not see bottom, consequently had impaled themselves on the rock shelf. They were forced to crawl out of the pirogue and push the boat from the rocks. Once more they started in the normal fashion, and succeeded very well until they reached Cole's dam, one mile below Fort Wayne. Here they had to unload the boat, and carry the grain on their shoulders up a steep bank about thirty feet high, go more than a half mile after a rope, and tying it to the boat, pulled it over the dam, very nearly losing it in the execution of the job. They reloaded, and again were on their way. but were halted again by the coming of night, at the mouth of the St. Joseph. From there to John's mill they had much trouble from the darkness and shallow water. They finally reached the mill, and unloaded their grain. Their lodging that night was made upon the bare ground, with no covering but the canopy of stars. On the final leg of the journey, to their home, they had to stop at every ripple and unload the boat, so that it would cross, then reload. Colin Robinson was seized with a violent sickness as the result of this hazardous trip. This was the pleasure of pioneering.

Family Mills

An interesting feature of pioneer life, showing the versatility of the early settler, was the family mills. The regular grist mills were very far and with long distance between, so it behooved the settler to provide some way to grind his own corn. Every settler, in time, came to own a small family mill, which was built along the following lines : A log of beech or cedar, some twenty inches in diameter, was first secured. This log was sawed off to about three feet in length. The log was placed on end, and an inch augur bored diagonally from the circumference toward the center. This operation was continued around the circumference, with all the holes meeting in the center. With a chisel, the block bored under is pried out: it was shaped like a cone. The funnel-shaped hole was trimmed out with the chisel, and a fire of coals built therein to harden the wood. A thick stick, with an iron wedge inserted in the end, was used as a pestle. The corn was beaten until as fine as possible, and then was sifted, leaving corn-meal. The bran was blown out of thf» balance, and then it was used as hominy.

Extracts On Early History

J. Freeman, of Auburn; lioth men, of some consequence in their time, have long since gone to that country from which no traveler returns. * * The pioneer store in the eastern part of the county, the one kept by Ladd Thomas, occupied a room about fifteen feet square, and two hundred dollars would have purchased every article he had to sell. He made his regular trips to Fort Wayne at stated periods, riding an old black horse, familiarly known as 'Old Jack' by all the early settlers, and carrying with him his purchases of produce, consisting of deer and coon skins, beeswax and ginseng roots. These he exchanged for such articles as he kept for sale, and freighted Old Jack with his purchases on his return trip.

"I said Old Jack was familiarly known to the settlers. Uncle Ladd, as he was called, was a Methodist preacher, and, in addition to his business as a merchant and his services in the pulpit, he preached funerals and solemnized marriages for all the settlers in the east part of the county, and when he went from home to attend to these duties Old Jack was his only mode of conveyance. The old horse seemed to have the ability to determine the difference between a funeral and a wedding, and it is not strange that he had, when we consider the fact that when Uncle Ladd attended a funeral he went alone ; but when called to officiate at a wedding the whole family went with him, and Old Jack's burden, like Job's, was grievous to be borne, and like one of olden times, he might have exclaimed : 'It is better to go to the house of mourning than to the house of feasting.' I have often seen Old Jack, on Sunday mornings, passing my father's cabin home, on his way to a wedding, with the whole family, consisting of Uncle Ladd, his wife, two sons (David, who died at early manhood, and Newton, afterward a prominent lawyer in a western city), all perched upon his back. Pardon my digression, but as the old horse will be remembered by so many persons, he deserves a passing notice.

"The store-keepers in the pioneer days were required to procure a license from the county commissioners before commencing business, and in their applications for their license they were required to enumerate the articles they proposed to sell, and state the amount of capital invested in the business. And in compliance with the law, Thomas J. Freeman, the first merchant of Auburn, on March 7, 1838, applied for a license to sell foreign merchandise and domestic groceries, with a capital of $175; and was required to pay for that privilege the sum of $5 ; and his traffic in time-pieces was restricted to one dozen for the year. The opinions of the people have changed greatly since then, for at that time Mr. Freeman was permitted to sell intoxicating liquor without a license, but was not allowed to sell tea, coffee and sugar with-

"Then the shoemaker, following the example of the itinerant preacher, went from house to house with his kit of tools and made the shoes for the several families comprising his list of patrons. The ladies had not then acquired the habit of crowding a number four foot into a number three French kid shoe; but the shoes were manufactured to fit the foot and not the eye, and were made of substantial material, impervious to wet and cold. And equipped with a pair of these shoes, the pioneer's wife could walk a mile through the snow without being placed under the doctor's care for weeks following. But these pioneer customs together with the log cabin homes and log school houses have passed away and now live only in the fond recollections of the few old settlers who survive. The wilderness we then loved for its native grandeur has disappeared, and in its stead the cultivated fields with their waving grain, the beautiful homes and pleasant little towns have sprung up.

"The winding wagon road, meandering around the swamps and creeks, through the woods, can no longer be traced by the oldest inhabitant. The old Indian trail can be no longer found, but the commodious highways permeating every part of the county furnish a comfortable route for every man to travel upon. Th mail carrier, with his horn and saddle-bags, bringing us the news of important events, at the rate of three miles per hour, has been supplanted by the elegantly equipped mail coach, carrying the news of the world at the rate of sixty miles per hour. And not contented with even that rate of speed, science now supplies us with the telegraph; and later with the telephone, by which we may converse with our friends at a distance of what was in pioneer days, a four days' journey."

John Houlton was the first settler of Franklin township, and accredited with being the first in the county. He penned a series of reminiscences in 1859, for Mr. Widney. Houlton was a fine type of the hardy pioneer, and naturally was not a literateur, but his significant and poignant manner of stating the facts lends unusual interest to the reading of them. The following is a portion of his memoir :

"Mr. "Widney: Since you are writing sketches concerning the early settlers of the various townships of this county, for the benefit of posterity, I feel it a duty to add my mite ; so please have patience as I must go out of the bounds of the county, and also note some things that happened before any

"Samuel Houlton, my oldest brother, and Isaach Hughes, went into copartnership to build a saw mill in the wilderness of Fish creek in February, 1827'. The firm hired David Williamson, John Kilgore, Francis A. Blair and myself to work for them. They gave us axes, a little provision, and fireworks, and started us where Brunersburg later stood, to cut a road through northwest to the Indian village on the St. Joseph (the present site of Denmark). We started and the firm was to follow with the team the next day. We cut on till dark ; and when we stopped to build a fire, behold the flint which I had put in my pocket to strike a fire was not to be found. We were all wet to our knees, and it being very cold, we all expected to perish without fire.

A Dangerous Predicament

"The boys threatened to whip me, as they said it was my d d carelessness for losing the flint. Said I, 'The night will be dark as Eg}'pt; we must make our fire or perish. Let us all hunt and if possible find a stone to strike fire with.' They said I was a fool to think of finding flint in those swamps. We had worked hard all day and were tired and hungry, but I well knew that there was not a moment to be lost ; so I started to hunt for a stone while they went to eating. It was growing dark rapidly.

"I struck a small ravine, followed it and at last found a little stone near the ground, with no sharp edge. Feeling along awhile and finding no other, I went back, got the spunk, and knife, and after a few strokes, had the satisfaction to see it take fire; and soon we had a good blazing fire. The boys who cursed me and were almost ready to kill me for losing the flint, now with tears rolling down their cheeks, asked my pardon. Such is the instability of poor feeble man.

Lack Of Provisions

"We cut the road to the mouth of Fish creek and the team came on. We then went to work and made a pirogue of about two tons' burden, and, crossing the river, built a cabin of about twenty feet square. When our provisions began to fail, Samuel Houlton took Blair and went down the river in the pirogue. They started to go east of the state line on the Maumee. Hughes, Williamson, Kilgore and myself stayed. The boat was to be back in eight days. Twelve days passed and no boat appeared. It had rained heavily; the river rose high, the weather turned quite cold, and our provisions entirely failed, except a half bushel of dried peaches.

D2 Dekalb County, Indiana

"Williamson and Kilgore concluded to leave for the settlement. We all made a raft of logs for the boys to cross the river, and the next morning they started with empty stomachs. Hughes and I went to see them cross. They went aboard the raft and started across the river, the water being high and the slush ice running. At first the raft bore them up; but before they got across, they were three feet deep in the freezing water. They had flint and spunk, but the latter getting wet in their pockets, was of course useless. They scrambled up the other bank, and there they were, their clothes freezing in two minutes, twenty-seven miles from the settlement, without food in their stomachs, without any means to strike fire, and the snow four inches deep. I shuddered for their fate, and told them to start at a good "turkey trot," so as not to freeze, and not too fast, lest they should tire out before getting through; and on the peril of their lives not to sit down. They got through, but so exhausted that Judge Perkins had to help them into his door.

"Hughes and I stayed fourteen days after the boys left, during which time we had nothing under the heavens to eat but a few dried peaches. We had a gun and went out often with it, to try to kill something; but there was neither animal nor bird to be seen ; no, not even so much as an Indian. On the morning of the fourteenth day, T told Hughes that I would make a raft of logs that day and leave the next morning. I did so. Next morning Hughes accompanied me to the river to see me start. We both felt sure that Houlton and Blair were coming up the river with the pirogue, and I was in great hopes to meet them in two or three hours. The river was yet high, and the slush ice running very thickly.

"I got some fire and wood on the raft. Hughes loosed the cable and was in the act of handing it to me when lo ! my brother. Samuel Houlton, called to us from about a hundred yards up the river. He knew we must be starving and came across from the Maumee with a yoke of oxen and sled. He tried hard to reach us the day before, but lacked five miles when darkness overtook him. He drove on imtil he could follow the road no longer and then struck fire and camped for the night. It was fortunate for me, indeed, that he came just when he did, for if I had got one hour's start. I should as surely have lost my life as I now live. For there was no human habitation till within four miles of Fort Wavne. The slush ice would have so adhered to the raft as soon to render it unmanageable ; so that it must have stove, and I would have been compelled to swim or drown. Had I swam out I must ha\-e frozen to death veiy soon.

"Hughes, Samuel Houlton and myself stayed about two weeks, then Samuel took an Indian canoe and went down the river to get his pirogue load of pork, flour, potatoes, corn and whiskey (for Hughes must have his dram). At Fort Wayne, Samuel hired a man by the name of .\very and went a little below where Antwerp now is, where they loaded the pirogue and returned without anything happening worthy of note. We four worked on some time, and in May got the mill ready to raise. Without any further help we went to putting it up, without ropes or tackle. The size was eighteen by fortv-five feet. There were five swamp-oak sills, forty-five . feet long, and thirteen inches square, and two plates ten inches square ; but the middle bent with the fender beam, fourteen inches square, was the heaviest.

Unwelcome Visitors

"At that time there was a large Indian \illage where Denmark now is, and some traders came among them with whiskey, and made then drunk, so they came to rob us. We had worked hard all day, until nearly sundown, when we went to the house to eat supper. The Indians came yelling and soon filled the house. They then drew their knives, bows and arrows, and tomahawks, stuck their hands into our supper pot, and our supper was gone in a trice. Samuel Houlton drew a large poker, and was about to strike when Avery exclaimed, 'Don't strike, Sam, or they will kill us all !" Hughes also told him not strike, but let them take what they wanted, and he would go to the Indian agent at Fort Wayne and make them pay for it. The}- then acted as true lords of the soil.

"They poured out their whiskey into their camp kettles, knocked in the head of a flour barrel, and also of a pork barrel, and in fifteen minutes flour, pork and whiskey were gone. They crossed the creek about twelve rods off, and camped for the night, ^\"hile they were making their fires and drinking the whiskey, we rolled out our last barrel of flour and hid it in a brush heap. We had also about thirty pounds of pork up in the chamber, they did not get, and that was all that saved us from starvation. The two hundred Indians fought and screamed all night. A better sample of the infernal regions never could be gotten up in this world.

"As soon as we had secured our barrel of flour, we next resolved that when they had generally got drunk, we would alight on them with a vengeance, and kill the last one nf them. So we loaded our four guns witli slugs and then got two tomahawks and two hand-axes, and waited until they would become more drunk. In this, however, we were disappointed. They did not seem to get more intoxicated. After drinking twenty gallons of whiskey, eating two hundred and thirty pounds of pork, and using up two hundred and fifty pounds of flour, with several bushels of potatoes, they started ofif about eight in the morning, well satisfied with what they had done.

"We made application to the Indian agent at Fort Wayne, but never got any compensation for the articles taken. Every time I think of Indian tragedy, I feel thankful that we were prevented from imbruing our hands in their life blood. It was the traders, with their whiskey, that made all this trouble.

Trip To The Prairies

"I will now give you the narrative of a danger that I and three others passed through. The escape was almost miraculous; and do not forget that all this has something to do with the settlement of DeKalb county.

"In the summer of 1831, Samuel Holton sent me and the widow Fee sent her son, John Fee, with me, out to the prairies with two yoke of oxen and a large Pennsylvania wagon, to buy a load of provisions. They let Moses Fee, a boy seven or eight years old, go with us. Before this Sarah and Cynthia Fee were working on the prairies to help support the family, and the old lady sent word for the girls to come home. So we' went out and got our load ready to return, when John Fee got a good chance to work awhile, and accordingly stayed, leaving me and the girls and the little boy to get home through the woods and swamps with the team and wagon as best we could.

"We were three days and a half getting home, miring down several times on the way. The road being narrow and very crooked, I got fast frequently against the trees, and finally told the girls that one of them would have to drive the forward cattle, so Sarah came and drove the team. As we were thus driving along, we came to a dead cherry tree, that had partly fallen and lodged on another tree. The wagon ran over one of the large roots of this dead tree, and it broke suddenly about fifty feet from the root. The top part fell back on the wagon within about six inches of the heads of Cynthia and the boy, smashing the boy's hand severely.

"The body of the tree fell along the road in the direction in which we were driving. By suddenly throwing myself back, I got barely out of its way, and having screamed to Sarah when I first saw it coming, to run for life, slie ran with all her speed, the top of the broken tree just brushing her head and clothes. Cynthia Fee later married William Bender. I married Sarah, the girl that drove the oxen and outran the falling tree, on the 5th of February, 1833-

"In September of the same year, I took three hired men, a yoke of oxen, a cross cut saw and fro, and came on to forty acres I had entered, and in four days, we four cut the logs for, and raised and covered the house where I yet live in Franklin township, DeKalb county. I also hauled out and buried twenty bushels of potatoes on my land, and left them until we moved on, about a month later, and though the Indians were thick around, my potatoes were not disturbed - proving that they were more honest than some of their white brethren.

"And now I want to show how the Hughes and Houlton mill, though in Williams county, Ohio, had a bearing on the settlement of DeKalb county. When the mill had been in operation some years, the people had begun to settle on the St. Joseph, and would come and get lumber, often on credit, to build with, and thus the mill aided greatly the settlement of this county, though a few miles over the counts^ and state line.

"In 1834 John Fee entered the large and excehent farm of 500 or 600 acres on which he later lived, and which lies on each side of the line between Steuben and DeKalb counties. Indulge me in telling an anecdote of him. He had been out to the prairies for grain, and froze his feet badly, so that for a long time he could not wear boots or shoes. So he got the Indians to make him a very large pair of moccasins which he wore. One day, after his feet got better, he went out hunting, and after sauntering through the woods awhile, he crossed the largest moccasin track he ever saw. He looked with astonishment at the monster track, and said to himself : 'What an almighty been in these woods.' About the time that his astonishment and curiosity got to its highest, he chanced to look behind him, and lo ! it was his own track! (5)

Incidents Of Humor

"We had a large fireplace in one end of our cabin and the main thing for us in the winter was to get in a big, back log every evening to last all night and the next day, and then make a big fire. After the rest of the folks had gone to bed I would stay up and parch about a peck of corn in the big skillet for the next day. I could live on it, honey and jerked venison, and call it 'high life' in America. A hunter can live longer on parched corn without water than anything else. Sometimes when parching corn or baking Johnnycakes, on a smooth clapboard, I would play Daniel Boone and imagine myself camped out in the woods by a big fire, and living on roasted corn. We moved to this country in a covered wagon, and camped out, and then is when I first fell in love with camping out and running wild ; and it is hard for me now to go back on my first love and keep from following off every covered wagon that comes along.

"We had a newcomer who had moved so often that he declared that whenever a covered wagon drove up or passed his cabin his chickens would fall in line, march over the fence, lay down and cross their legs ready to be tied, thinking that they were going to move again.

"At night, after we had gone to bed, the ground squirrels would come up through the puncheon floor, and it was fun to see them play hide and go-seek, blindman's buff, or whatever their innocent games are in their language. They were so plentiful that we had to watch our com patch when it was first planted, or they would dig it all up and eat it.

"One night I woke up and saw something lying on the floor by the fire that looked very bright and glistening. I thought perhaps I was dreaming about Aladdin and the wonderful lamp, or Cinderella and the glass slipper, but come to look closer it was a huge rattlesnake that had come up through the floor to warm himself. The gun stood within reach and was always loaded, and I drew a bead on him, fired, and shot his head off. A gun shot off in a room makes an awful noise, and it scared the rest of the folks almost to death. Father wanted to know what in the world was the matter, and I told him that I had killed a boa constrictor, or an anaconda, and that I had saved the whole famil}'. The snake was very fat, and we saved the oil for rheumatism and weak back, and always found it a sure cure.

"One day Tom and George Hollenback, father and myself were out hunting, and the dogs made a big fuss in the thicket, and we rushed in to see what was the matter, and found that they had come across the den of young wolves and the old one was not at home. There were six of them, about a quarter grown, but very active and ferocious ; and we had hard work to catch them, as they had such a careless way of feeling around for a fellow's fingers and would snap at you like a steel trap. At last we got a forked stick and held their necks down while we tied them. One of the boys had a big pocket in his coat, and concluded to carry one in it. We got ready and started home with our menagerie, when all at once the wolf in the pocket grabbed the boy by the hind part of his leg and held on like grim death. The poor fellow ran around and howled. We tried to break the animal's hold, but it would not let go. We could not beat or choke it off, and we had to cut its head off.

"That made the boys so mad that they killed all the wolves but one. which I took home and tied by a chain to a stake in the yard. In five minutes he could dig a hole in the sand big enough to hide himself, and then he would lay with his nose sticking out and let on that he was asleep ; and the chickens would come around to investigate the subject, and woe unto the chickens that came within the length of his chain. He could figure on it to an inch ; and then when they got within reach he went for them like lightning, and would gobble them up, pick them and eat them before you could say, 'Jack Robinson.'

"One morning he came up missing. He was out and gone, chain and all. I did not care anything about him, as he had eaten most all of our chickens, except an old setting hen that he did not relish; but I did not like to lose my chain. In the fall, while out hunting in the woods, and the wind was blowing very hard, I heard a rattling noise like a horse-fiddle and went to see what it was : and lo and behold, there was my chain hanging to the limb of a tree with a bunch of bones to it and the wind was making music on them. It was the remains of my wolf; but I could never tell if it was a case of intentional suicide or he had got fast and hung himself accidentally. As he was already dead, I cut him down, took my chain, and left him for the wild winds to mourn his requiem.

A Searching Party

"It was in the spring, the time to plow for corn, and in the dark of the moon, when you could not see your nose before you. One evening some of the neighbor boys saw a big black bear going north. They came down with dogs to stay all night with me, and get an early start in the morning after the bear. We had camped out on the floor, and in the night we heard a rattle at our clapboard door, and I asked, 'Who goes there?' An answer, in a musical voice, said, 'Mingo.' On opening the door in stepped an Indian boy well known to us. He said that a little girl seven or eight years old, who belonged to Mr. Tobby. living about eight miles north of us, had gotten lost in the morning, and that they had hunted for her all day and had not found her; and that they wanted us to go over and help hunt for her.

"I told the boys that was our best hold and that we would let the bear go until we had found the little girl. We got up long before day and made our breakfast off of a wild goose and a sand-hill crane, that we had killed the day before, and barbecued them by the fire. We were off early on a trail, and arrived at Tobby's about nine o'clock in the morning ; and oh, such a sight. There was the mother crying and weeping, nearly heart-broken, and calling for Mary, the lost child.

"There were two or three women with her, trying to console .her. The men were all out looking for Mary, and nothing had been heard from the child up to this time, one day and one night out. They had an old-fashioned dinner horn four or five feet long and as big as a saucer at the lower end, and it could be heard for miles. It was understood that when anyone brought in any news or found the child the horn should be sounded. It appears that on the morning that little Mary was lost her father was plowing a piece of ground for corn, and she started to go to him, but never reached him; and that Obbenobbe, an old Indian from the Tippecanoe, and Mingo, his grandson, had come over to Mr. Tobby's, and while he went out to hunt for the child sent Mingo over after us.

"Just then Obbenobbe came in with a little piece of yellow calico that he said he had found on a bush about three miles east of there. Mrs. Tobby said at once that it was a piece of the dress that Mary had worn, and it had been torn ofif by the bush. That gave her some hopes; but the terrible thought was whether she was alive or not. The country was then full of wolves and the chances were against her, but we hoped and hoped ever. We then made the woods and prairies ring with the old horn, and then we agreed that not a gun should be fired until Mary was found, dead or alive, and broke for the place where Obbenobbe had found the piece of her dress. We made good time and soon reached the spot, and l^egan to look for more signs. After looking around for a long time we found her little footprints in the sand and also in the mud, going from home. She was barefooted and from that day to this I have never forgotten those little tracks in the sand and mud. We hunted all day and found no other trace and our hearts began to sink. We were tired and hungry, having had nothing to eat all day. We could have killed deer, but had resolved not to fire our guns off. We had a large greyhound that could catch a deer any time and two coon dogs. As night was coming on we prepared to camp. W'hile we were fixing our camp two dogs barked up a hollow tree and we supposed there was a coon in it. We made an Indian ladder and Obbenobbe climbed up and put some fire in the tree and came down. As the tree was dry it soon began to burn, and made a bright light from the top.

"At last two coons rolled out, pretty well singed. We killed and skinned them and were getting ready to roast them. It was not dark yet and we heard a noise, and looking up we found that something had scared two deer, and they came running right to camp. We put the dogs after them and a short distance from us was the creek. In jumping in, one of the deer fell back in the creek ; in a minute the dogs were on him, and we ran in and pulled him out and killed him, and in fifteen minutes from the time we first drew blood everyone of us had a piece of the meat on a stick and roasting it. and such a feast we did have. The body wanted more food than the soul did, and for the time being we forgot our troubles.

"Night came on and a dark one it was and the wolves were howling around us. The worst of all, it began to rain, and our only thought was, 'Where was Mary Tobby?' We had listened all day for the big horn or the report of a gun, but all in vain. Remember, my dear friends, that this is a true story. Remember, too, that this was the second day and second night that she was lost, and how could the heroine live so long among the wolves with nothing to eat and nothing to protect her from the weather but a little calico dress. We did not sleep much that night, and were up early and started on our search. We hunted all day up and down, backward and forward, as the grasses and bushes were very thick, calling and listening, but all in vain.

"At last, about three o'clock, we gave it up and hope died within us, and we turned out faces homeward with heavy hearts. There is something in man called the dormant or latent powers or energies. For instance, I had been hunting all day and was returning tired and weary, hardly able to lift one foot before the other, and game would start up before me, and I could run for hours and forget that I was tired. Now hold your breath. We had given up and started for home, and away off north of us we heard a gun's discharge. So then our dormant powers and hope went up, and we all broke and ran. and reaching the edge of a prairie we saw a man on horseback in his shirt sleeves with something wrapped up in his coat before him. It was Bridge Ward, and he had found Mary Tobby in this way : He, too had given up and started home in despair. As he was riding along he saw a grove north of him, in the bend of the creek, and somthing told him or influenced him to take a last look there. He turned his horse to the right and through the grove, and

"Her little feet, limbs and hands were all torn and bleeding from the briars and grass, and her golden hair was all matted together. He picked her up gently and wrapped her in his coat and started for home. But how had she lived and escaped so long from wild animals ? Although Obbenobbe was the oldest, he was still the best runner, and we started him on the wings of wind to carry the glorious news to Mary's home, that she was found and still alive. It was not long before we heard the guns firing and the horn blowing, as the rest of them had all given up and retired to the house. As ]\Iary was weak we had to go slow, and as we neared the house they all came out to meet us, and the mother was frantic with joy. I thought she would kill the child by hugging and kissing it. Mary was very weak, but after careful nursing soon got strong again, grew to womanhood, married and raised a family.

Bear Hunt Resumed

"Now for the bear. After going north, we turned east, and killed a couple of hogs in the neighborhood of Brunks and then turned northwest and killed a calf near Stephen Jons's, the bee hunter. We sounded the tocsin, called in our forces, and with the Forrence and Hollenback boys, started on the warpath, resolved to do or die for the rising generation. We were provided with guns and five dogs, including the big greyhound given to my father by Samuel Matlock, of Lancaster, Ohio, which money could not buy. We soon got on the bear's track, crossing the sand ridges and soft places in the prairie. He was a smasher, and made a track more like the human family than any animal we had ever seen. We were almost led to believe in Darwin, who teaches that man came up from the lower orders of animals, and this bear's track did look as if he might be a connecting link between man and the monkey. The bear had a kind of elephant trot and traveled fast. The dogs would run way ahead of him for miles and then come back pretty well 'chawed up.' They at last became frightened and would not follow him. The greyhound was game and wanted to pitch in, but we kept him back, as we did not want him to get hurt. Several times we got sight of the old fellow crossing the prairie, from one side ridge to another. He made good time and we had hard work to keep anywhere near him.

A Diversion

"While crossing a ridge we saw a deer coming right toward us, with tongue out and very tired. One of the boys was going to shoot, but I told him to hold on as there was something the matter with it. We kept, the dogs in and it came right up to us. Just then five or six big grey wolves, and a big black one, the only one we ever saw, came running after it. We opened fire on them and killed the black and one grey one, and wounded another, which got away with the rest. As we had heard that a black wolf skin was very valuable, we skinned them. While doing so we heard a noise, and looking around, saw an old she-wolf and four young ones coming in on the home stretch, to be at the death and feast of the deer. We fired at them, but without effect, and they ran one way and the deer another without saying good-bye.

"W^e hung up the wolf skins in a safe place and followed up bruin, who had gotten the start of us and had come across bees in an old hollow tree and tore the honey out; he had made a mess of it, but had left enough for us. Bears are great for honey or anything sweet, and do not mind the sting of bees more than we would a mosquito bite. Along toward night his tracks became most too fresh, and we were afraid ; so we concluded to camp on his track. W'hile preparing to camp a couple of the boys went out to get some game for supper, and in about an hour came in with a fine, fat buck, from which we had a feast. We sat by the camp fire and ate roasted ribs and broiled venison, and thought how the old fellows who dressed in purple and fine linen and fared sumptuously every day, but had lost their appetite and digestive powers and got the gout and dyspepsia, would give a million if they could eat just such a meal as we did. There are some who live only to eat, but in those days we ate to live and keep soul and body together and were happy. I long for those days again. The night was dark and we made two big fires, one on each side of us, as we had heard that wild animals would not go through fire for a meal of victuals. Several times we were badly frightened in the night and even our dogs were afraid. We kept out a picket guard, but it was hard to get anyone to leave the fire very far, as we were afraid that the bear would make a raid and gobble us up before we could say our prayers.

"The morning came and found us with our scalps all right, and we were soon off on the trail. He had turned east and gone north of Fletcher's Lake, and by Mud Lake, and then west near the Indian camp, where Obbenobbe and ?iIingo were. Through the day we found where he had made a meal ofif a dead or wounded deer, as bear cannot catch a sound deer. As it was nearly night we concluded to stay with the Indians, and they agreed to go with us in the morning. After a good night's sleep we were off early, with Indians, guns, and a new supply of dogs, and with their aid soon found the trail. After following him until almost noon we saw him go into a swamp filled with thick elbow brush. The Indians said he would make his last fight there. We prepared to give battle, surrounded the swamp, and then sent the dogs in.

"One of the Indians who had a rifle that carried an ounce ball got sight of him, fired, and broke one of his fore legs and that brought him to bay. He stood up on his hind legs and looked like a big gorilla, and I almost thought that Darwin was right. We all closed in on him, but could not fire for fear of killing the dogs, they were so close around him. After he had killed or wounded four or five dogs the greyhound broke loose and went in. The bear grabbed him with his well fore leg and was about to crush and kill him when Obbenobbe rushed in with a big knife and struck the bear under the shoulder, and that settled his case. He let the dog go and gave up the ghost.

"The Indians said he was the largest they had seen for many years. They supposed that he was a wanderer from the far north on an exploring expedition. We skinned him and gave the hide to Obbenobbe, as it was he who struck the fatal blow, and saved my father's dog. He was not very fat, and tasted like a mixture of coon, pork, shad and codfish. We took a scout around and got our wolf skins and returned home well satisfied with our bear hunt, which was the last and only one in my life."

Pioneer Society

In those pioneer days when settlements were far ajjart and neighbors distant, acquaintance was widespread and neighborly offices cheerfully bestowed. The latch-string was always hung out and the rough cabin could always accommodate the stray traveler and the family of a settler moving to his entry. The pioneer was prompt to help in peril or need, and none so heartily enjoyed a good joke as he. While the settlers, like Isaac B. Smith and Wesley Park, kept emigrants' hotel, and the right hand of fellowship was extended to all, yet the regulators were not slow to punish the thief and blackleg who found their wav into the communitv.

Mills And Mill Trips

Prominent in the history of early settlement appears the erection of mills and the trials of their patrons. Mill builders were recognized as men of prominence, and first roads were cut to the mills which were scarce and distant. Primarily, the pioneers were compelled to use the family hand mill. In brief, this was a three foot piece of log from a beech or a maple, hollowed from one end by chisel and augur, in form of a cone. This hollow made smooth and hard by a fire of coals kindled therein, is scraped clean and the mortar prepared. A stick, wrist thick, split at one end, holding an iron wedge, with edge to the slit, and kept in place by an iron ring, is the pestle. Corn is placed in the mortar and beaten by the pestle. The finest sifted is corn meal ; the balance, minus the bran, is hominy.

Amos Stearns, a settler in Troy township, went thirty miles to the Union mills in Lagrange county, and there are those whose experience exceeded this distance. On Fish creek, a stream second to Cedar in the county, were built several grist mills, one by A. S. Casebeer: another higher up by Samuel Kepler. In time water mills at Orangeville and Spencennlle, and later steam mills at Auburn, Butler and Waterloo and other points have so improved upon the olden times that a single instance of many, of hard times, in going to mill, will show a truth stranger than fiction.

Public Lands

The lands of which DeKalb county was formed were regularly surveyed at national expense into townships six miles square. The office for the sale of lands was located at Fort Wayne, and purchasers obtained their title direct from the general government. Much of the land was taken up by speculators, and this, for some years, operated to delay actual settlement. As a measure of justice a system of taxation was adopted by the early settlers which compelled a sale of land to actual settlers and a clearing of the dense forest and a utilization of the fertile soil.

Land Hunting

Isaac B. Smith ranged the woods of Smithfield township to find \acant land for a home. Three times he had made a selection and gone afoot to Fort Wayne, about thirty-two miles distant, and there found his pieces entered. A fourth time he reached the land office only to be disappointed.

Weary and nearly despairing, he made another fruitless journey to an entry which he found to be in a swamp, boot-deep in water. Returning to Fort Wayne, he secured as a witness to the unfitness of the entry for settlement, Wilber Powell, with whom he traced the lines of the quarter section. A sixth time at the land office he secured a new plat of the township, and with two others had just found a good tract, when they met three other men on the same quest. A race ensued between the parties. Thirty miles were traveled on a trot, and reaching the office. Smith's party found their pieces entered, but enjoyed the satisfaction of knowing that their competitors, who arrived an hour later, had raced in vain. Assisted by Wesley Park, Smith at last found vacant land, and hastened to Fort Wayne finally, after eight journeys, and secured his future home.

Cyclone

In the summer or fall of 1841 a dark, swift-moving, wildly-confused mass of clouds sped over the country. The wind accompanying demolished houses, scattered fences like feathers, and lexeled the forests, rushing forward with demoniac fury, laying devastation in its course. Limbs of trees darkened the air; the timber fell with a continual roar, and bed clothing from Henry Brown's house was carried two miles. The pathway of this tornado was a half mile wide and three miles long, and passed mostly along the road from Auburn to Spencerville.

Hydrophobia

During 1838 hydrophobia alarmingly prevailed, and cattle, hogs and even wild foxes "went mad." In this connection it is related that Daniel Coats, of Wilmington, was attacked by a rabid fox while passing through the woods and succeeded, after a well-contested race, in securing a club and slaying his pursuer. A drop of blood from the bead of the fox alighting on Coats' cheek burned like fire. Such is the power of imagination, and the interest of the old tales that enlivened the pioneer firesides.

Food in the early day was neither abunilant nor of high quality. Appetite controlled and made edible a fare which, in these days would seem impossible. The families of Daniel Altenburg and W'alsworth, while en route to Auburn, regaled themsehes for a breakfast in the new county upon the flesh of a raccoon which the_\- had caught on the previous day. Wesley Park and Joseph Miller, passing a rainy night in the woods of Butler township, made a meal upon "new milk fresh from the cow," and the pioneers of that locality in 1834 ate heartily of "coon steak" prepared by their cook, Charley Grouse, not even John Surface being excepted since he, impelled by hunger, finished what the others had left over after breakfast.

Mound Builders

The presence, in the valleys of the Ohio and Mississippi, of numerous earthen tumuli - the memorials of an age long past - indicates the existence of a pre-historic race. There are claimed to be several movmds in this county, but the facts have not been learned, yet the presence of stont axes, flint arrowheads, spear-points and other mementoes of this singular people, prove that at least they were accustomed to traverse this section.

The lands of which DeKalb county forms a part originally belonged to the Pottawatomies, whose title was procured by treaties made with them from time to time by officers of the United States government. The energetic Jesuit came among them towards the commencement of the eighteenth century, and found plastic material. The Pottawatomies of Northern Indiana numbered about four thousand. The Catholic priest who first came among them paid the price for his temerity with his life, but when finally converted, these Indians became firm Christians. In compliance with an order from the general government, the tribe was removed to the Indian territory beyond the Mississippi. With a grief akin to despair they took their melancholy journey and many deaths along the route proved their love of the home of their fathers. By 1840 most had departed, and save a few who lingered, their lands were left to the incoming whites.

An Expensive 'Coon

In an early day 'coon hunts were numerous, but later, after the lands of the county were all under private ownership, it was sometimes a hazardous pastime. A crowd of young fellows near Newville in 1876 engaged in one of these "coon hunts. They "treed" an animal in a dry oak tree on the premises of Dr. Emanuel, and, in customary fashion, cut down the tree. The doctor immediately entered suit in the circuit court for satisfaction and damages. The defendants compromised during the trial by the payinent of seventy-five dollars in the way of costs, lawyers' fees and damages.

Fox Hunts

In the early part of 1875 for hunts became the vogue, and many were organized among the citizens of the county. Marshals and other field officers were chosen, hunters were detailed on the different lines prescribed, no fire arms were allowed, and all dogs were loosed at the appointed time. One of the first hunts was held at Corunna on Saturday, January 23, 1875. ^"d six foxes were caught. An immense crowd was present. February 6th, following, another hunt was held in Richland and Fairfield townships. Only three foxes were caught, but a number escaped from the lines. The trophies were sold at auction, and the proceeds given to the poor.

As late as October, 1874, a bear was killed in Richland township. The following account is from the Waterloo Press of October 29, 1874: "On Sunday last a black bear was seen coming out of the Baughman marshes, southeast of town. It was fired upon by several parties, but none of them seem to have injured it. Monday morning early large parties of men, with dogs and guns, turned out to hunt the game. The animal was followed to the swamps south of Sedan, where the dogs brought it to bay, and it was shot to death by Messrs. Charles Rempis, James Booth and others."