Hamilton County, Indiana - Chapter 26: Reminiscences, 1915 (part 1 of 2)

Chapter 26: Reminiscences

Mr. Z. Warren, now deceased, who wrote "Reminiscences of the Long Ago," the same being written, as he says, "by one who is seventy-nine years old and has voted for president fifteen times, scoring eleven, and lived with the history of our country through three wars and five panics," gives the following account of his father's family when they emigrated from North Carolina to Indiana :

My parents emigrated from North Carolina in 1831, when Andrew Jackson w^as president, and Napoleon was sleeping on St. Helena* They loaded their wagon for the new country, Indiana, the then "Far West," putting in amongst other things a box of ginger cakes of home manufacture, and a little tin trunk filled with "hard money" with which to buy land ; noth¬ ing but gold or silver would be received by the government for land.

They left their married daughter, Ruth, never expecting to see her again, the distance being almost as far as around the world now. But in a few years a wagon arrived at our house, and the occupants sent some one in who asked mother if she would like to see Ruth. She said "Yes, but I never ex¬ pect to." He told her to go out to the wagon if she wanted to see her - they had emigrated.

Emigrants from North Carolina and other parts came occasionally. One day a covered wagon drove up to our house; they were folks from North Carolina, and some relation to my mother. After a little while their little flaxen haired girl approached rather shyly and handed me a large redstreaked apple, and I expect the very stem was chewed up. Apples were not often seen, there being but one orchard in the vicinity of seedling trees, planted by the Indians. What became of the little girl? Long since de¬ parted, but one of her sons is now a prominent business man on w^est Main street, Carmel.

could steal their cash, and when camping it would sometimes be left un¬ guarded in the wagon, not thinking anyone would be hog enough to carry off the whole trunk bodily. Nowadays there might be some persons that unscrupulous.

A little incident happened at the ferry over the Ohio river at Gallipolis. Two ferries were running in opposition; one offered to take us over for a little less, then the other underbid him, and so on until one said, "Come on with me and I will take you over for nothing/' Then the other, not to be outdone, said, "Come with me and I will take you over for nothing and treat to a pint of whisky.'* I do not remember hearing my father say which one he went with. We passed through Chillicothe, Ohio, and at Richmond, Indi¬ ana, called upon David Hoover, my mother's relative, who laid out the city and gave it its name.

My father, Daniel Warren, entered one hundred and sixty acres of land, cornering where now is the southwest corner of Main and Main Cross streets of Carmel. The patent deed had the signature of Andrew Jackson, then president.

There were yet some Indians, bears, panthers and wolves and deer galore, wild turkeys, pheasants, rattle snakes, and squirrels in great abund¬ ance. When burning brush at night, droves of deer, attracted by the light, would come near enough for their eyes to be seen. About where Edmund Graves' house now stands, my brother saw one lying in a fallen tree top, and when he threw a stick at it, fifteen jumped up and ran, flopping their tails. When a dog got after one he would often be thwarted by a fence, the deer making it at one bound.

A Primitive Home

The first thing to do after landing in the then solid wilderness, on the quarter section now the farm of Jonathan Johnson, was to cut down an oak tree and split enough rails to make a pen, and boards to cover it. A fire¬ place was left on one side and a "back-log" rolled in place, and a door on another side, to which a sheet was hanged up for a shutter. This was the first house! Look at it - and it was about the second day of blustery March.

They lived in this house for about six weeks, three of which mother and the children were left alone while father was on the hunt of his horses, which had estrayed, and there were the Indians and wild animals, and no white neighbors near. Droves of hungry wolves would come up at nights with their dismal howling. My father later kept dry brush heaps in stock.

They had to have pens and shut the sheep and hogs up of nights to secure them from the wolves. One night the wolves were howling and they had forgotten to shut the hogs up, and my elder brothers went in the dark to shut them up. Another time they neglected to put the sheep in the fold, and in the morning "A field of the dead rushed red on their sight, and the lambs and sheep were scattered in the fight.,, A long pasture field was strewn with dead sheep' from one end to the other, the wolves only sucking the blood from their throats.

We found aborigines, called Indians. Perhaps they and the mound builders were one and the same. The author of the "Prehistoric World/' after canvassing the subject, finally concluded that they and the mound build¬ ers, cliff dwellers, and the builders of the magnificent ruins of Mexico, Yucatan and Bolivia, the Aztecs, the Taltecs and Eskimos were one and the same race, but in different states of advancement.

Who Can Tell Us

God is in history which no man can unravel. Who can tell us who, without iron tools, sculptured the statues of Chaas Mol and Huitzilopochtil? The latter was unearthed in the city of Mexico. Ghosts of Tenoclititlan, can'st thou tell ? The Indian women strapped their papooses on a board and carried it on their backs. There was one case in. which the squaw, before entering a white neighbor's house left her papoose leaning against the outside of the house and an old sow came along and ate it. The poor woman mourned and cried, "Oh, my poor papoose, my poor papoose !"

There was one family of Indians by the name of Ketcham that lived a little southwest of Mahlon Day's residence, on the west of the little stream, and there was a good sulphur spring on a little solid spot, but the ground around it was soft and shaky. There was an ever-ready gourd hanging near out of which to drink. The marsh has been drained and the spring is no more. A few trees of the Indians' orchard are yet standing. Pieces of bright lead ore and flint darts were found in the cabin.

The Indian's given name was Charley. He made a sale preparatory to going beyond the Mississippi to the Indian Territory. After going there one of his sons became a Methodist preacher. While living here my father traded him a silver watch for furs, and did not explain to him about its hav¬ ing to be wound up and when it stopped running, he came back with it and

The Indians were friendly; my mother was kind to them and would give them things and talk to the squaws. My mother was called "Polly" and it happened that two other white women's names were the same, and after that old Charley called all white women "Polly."

At the time of his sale he was jolly, having imbibed too much "fire water." His squaw's name was Nancy, and he wanted to sell everything, and went around saying: "I sells my dog, I sells my Nancy, I sells my papoose. Will you buy, Poll?" My father bought a few articles at the sale and went and paid for them on the day due, and the Indian said, "Good white man." He did not understand English as well as his squaw, and mother told him that people said the Indians would kill white folks, and said to him, "You won't, will you?" and he quickly ejaculated with emphasis, "Yes!" But his squaw said that he did not understand, and that he was all right.

The Ketchams, in some way, became rich after going to the Indian Territory, and drove in their coach. Not very many years ago John F. Carey, when in the territory, ran across and interviewed old Charley. Mr. Carey told him he was from here in Indiana, and he said, "Indiana?" and asked whose son he was, and when told said, "O, yes, Sammy Carey, good white man. Stay for dinner."

An Unrelished Luxury

There was another set of Indians between Edmond Graves' and William Morrow's homes. They had tents and many hounds for hunting. Mother went some distance to a white neighbor's and left my brother with them till she came back, and the squaw gave him a piece of dried venison, which was so salty that he could not eat it, and he was afraid not to eat it for fear they would kill him. He chewed at it until he got into a patch of high weeds and then threw it away. The Indian woman told of their singing their songs and mother asked her if they sang good songs and she answered: "Do you think we'd sing bad songs?" She told the Indian woman that before they came to this country they were told the Indians could track white folks by their scent. The answer was : "Are white folks fools, and think Indians are like dogs ?" made their flint darts, and fastened them on the arrows with the tendrils of deer's legs. Sometimes they would come begging and say, "Indian wants" so and so.

There was another Indian southeast. His name was "Johnny Cake." That sounds good. In one Indian grave was found a silver breast pin and in another a gun barrel.

I will wind up the Indian story by telling a soup tale. In those days a squad of these aborigines, . likely returning from an unsuccessful hunting or fishing expedition, and hungry, passed by a white settler's who happened to have been butchering hogs, and asked for the entrails, which they carried with them, and upon stopping at another house begged their dish water and the use of a large kettle. With the entrails for a body, and the dish water for the broth they had a kettle of hot soup. They each one got a piece of cornstalk which they sopped in the soup, as they squatted around the kettle, and sucked the "goody" from it till the soup was thus licked up. Reader, how would that kind of a menu strike your copperosity?

Lost In The Forest

In the early pioneer days in this country when settlements of white people were few and frequently very far apart, and whilst soldier barracks, forts and fortifications were still in use, the necessaries of life, including powder and lead, were frequently transported from government stores or trading points to these settlements on "pack horses." The country being full of roving bands of Indians, it frequently happened that parties engaged in this business on private speculation or for the government, joined their forces and traveled in company through the forests.

On one occasion John Emerson, together with others, was transporting supplies in this way. The weather being warm, John, as he afterward said, became very thirsty. As the party was passing a spring or a place where Emerson supposed he could get a drink, he quietly left the company to look for it. Thinking that he would have no trouble in finding his companions, he allowed his horse to be taken on with others. After finding the water he started on what he supposed was the route taken by the others, but he failed to overtake them. Soon he discovered he was not following the right trail and that he was lost in the forest. He wandered aimlessly for sixteen days, during which time he did not see a human being. At the end of that time, worn out and exhausted, he laid down to die. An Indian out on a hunt, dis¬ covered him in this condition. The Indian had killed a wild turkey and had picked the feathers off of it, but was not ready to return to camp. Telling John that he would return for him and take him to the camp, he left the turkey there and pursued his game. On his return he found that Emerson had eaten all the raw flesh from the wings of the turkey, which made him very angry, but he took him to the Indian camp and fed him. Emerson then told the Indian where his home was and that if he would take him home he would pay him a certain sum of money for his services. The Indian, true to his supposed friend, and trusting him for the money, consented to do so. Arriving there, to the disgust of the Indian and the shame and disgrace of all white men, Emerson refused to pay the Indian one cent. The Indian being alone and sixty miles from his home and in a settlement of white people, had no remedy, but returned to his people to add another chapter of perfidy against that class of white people who were base enough to give the red man evil for good. As Emerson was a Yankee, his own people snubbed him and called him the "mean Yankee" or the "lost Yankee!" The Yankee would not in this case compare in honesty and nobleness of character with the red man, who cared for him and saved him.

About the year 1842, a man afterwards a citizen of this town, planned to extract one of his molar teeth. Going up stairs and tying a cord to the tooth and an iron wedge to the other end of the cord, he threw the wedge out of the window ; he landed the tooth and it was well for him that he had a large strong neck, for he said it came so near breaking his neck, he never would do that way again.

I will tell a cat tale. In the long ago some parents went from home, leaving the children alone, and they, having a grudge against the old cat, thought that the opportunity to get rid of it had come. Not knowing how hard a cat is to kill, one held it up by the hind legs while another struck it with a club, and it jumped with a big meow, and ran under the house. They were watched by their little sister, who so soon as their parents returned, ran and met them and said: "We killed the old cat and she didn't die!" That "let the cat out of the wallet."

A Yankee Trick

Jirah Smith, was a Yankee and one day a jocular farmer meeting him at the store asked him to play a "Yankee trick." "No," he replied, but said he would swap horses with him. So they repaired to the Smith residence to see his horse, and going around to the back yard, he said : "There he is. '

It was a wooden "shave horse'' used to sit astride, and to hold shingles, etc., to be shaved with a draw-knife! And that was the Yankee trick.

Many years ago a man of this vicinity, since becoming a citizen of Carmel, and now not living, went hunting and took his gun along. Spying a squirrel on the side of a tree, he fired, killing it, and the bullet glancing from a tree, struck and killed a red headed woodpecker on another tree! Should a man have made a business of hunting from the time of the building of the great Pyramid down to the digging of our "big ditch," he probably would never have made such a "hit."

Another incident was that of a young man with a fine rifle, steel barrel, curly maple stock, ornamented with thirty pieces of sterling silver. He was not much of a marksman, and meeting with his first squirrel on the limbs of a tree, placed the already cocked rifle on the limb of a bush and was in the act of getting his eyes down to take sight when he accidentally pulled the trigger before taking sight, and lo! and behold! the squirrel fell to the ground, kicking till dead, and the young* man stood awhile amazed. He hunted no more that day and went home with his game while his credit was good as a marksman.

There is one old citizen yet living in Carmel who in the past met with so many accidents. I will relate them. The first was about 1834, when a little boy, sitting barefooted on the clay hearth of the log cabin before a large log fire, with the old cat in his lap, when the top log with its live coals rolled down upon one side of his feet. His mother pulled his foot from under the log, leaving some of the skin of his foot adhering to the log and some live coals to his feet. He said to his mother: "It is a fine thing it did not roll on the old cat."

After this, in walking near the edge of the floor where it was lain only partly across, the room of the second story of a building, and looking upward at some object, he accidentally stepped off with one foot, falling head fore¬ most on the edge of an upright barrel on the lower floor and cutting his head so his skull bone could be seen, and leaving a pool of blood on the floor. A few stitches brought the gash together. Next he fell from a mulberry tree, and was not much hurt. Another time he had his hand severely burned.

While yet a boy he stepped upon a rusty nail and took cold in his foot and lay abed quite awhile. Then in 1853, he again stepped upon a rusty nail, causing quite a painful wound. In 1847 he was accidentally shot in the hand with an iron-pointed arrow from a cross-bow. In 1853 a piece of tim¬ ber flew out from a twining lathe, striking him on the mouth and breaking a front tooth out.

In the late fifties, he was experimenting with an empty two-gallon tin can, from which alochol had just been emptied. By holding a match above it, the alcohol adhering to the gummy inside of the can would catch and burn ; then he held a match over it, and lowering it slowly to see how far away it would catch, not thinking of the fact that sitting on the stove hearth it had become hot. A mass of flames shot up to the ceiling, burning his face, locks, mustache, eyebrows and eyelashes off. Wasn't he a pretty looking aspect? His wife was across the street and when she came in she cried: "Moral - Don't monkey with a hot alcohol can."

In 1898 he melted a lot of scraps of solder in a ladle on the cook stove, and the solder inadvertently contained a cartridge. He was bending over it after the solder melted when the cartridge let go, scattering the solder all over the room, his spectacles saving his eyes. He was knocked down and run over by a buggy at two different times here, and was struck by a street car in Indianapolis, and by an interurban car here without being hurt. Also, at one time, returning from the city, he was sitting on goods piled above the top of the wagon bed, when the wheels struck an obstacle as they were com¬ ing down a hill and he was thrown forward to the ground without being hurt and not even letting go hold on a bottle of Damar varnish.

Later than this he came so near being run over by a freight engine at our Monon station, that before he jumped from the track the cow catcher almost struck him. The engineer reversed the engine, and Thomas Carey shouted, "Look out!" either of which not having been done, he would have been struck. But when a small boy he climbed to the top of the ladder serv¬ ing for the stairway in the log cabin and fell through, breaking an arm - but it was the arm of his mother's flax spinning wheel !

The Lost Child

In the fall of 1828 a family of movers from the East came to Noblesville and stopped for supplies. They were on their way to the Wea Prairie, between the present site of Kirklin and Lafayette. After their supplies had been purchased they proceeded on their way over the route known as the Lafayette trace. They camped that night either on the east or west bank of Cicero creek. There was a large family of them, children ranging from two years of age upward. The country about where. they camped was very heavily timbered. All went well with the emigrants during the night, and after feeding and caring for their team and partaking of their frugal meal, in the morning the horses were harnessed and hitched to the wagon, and as the heads of the family of the family supposed, the children loaded into the wagon. The team was started on its journey. After traveling two or three or probably four miles, the discovery was made that a little girl five or six years old was missing. The party immediately retraced their steps to the camping ground of the evening before, carefully searching on both sides of the dim wagonway for their little one, but no trace of the child was to be found. At that time it was dangerous for grown people armed to tne teeth to be lost in the woods after night, as bears were numerous and the woods in this country was full of wolves, catamounts and wild hogs. The father of the child returned to Noblesville at once and sounded the alarm and run¬ ners were sent in every direction among the settlers. The greatest excite¬ ment existed. A council was at once called and under the direction of the most experienced of backwoodsmen and hunters a thorough search was insti¬ tuted. A point at which they should all meet at sundown of that day was fixed and signals were agreed upon in event of the finding of the child, but no such signal was heard during the day, and at sundown the party met at the designated place, very much crestfallen at their ill luck. Men were there who had been able to trace the bear, the wolf and the deer* in fact anything, as they thought, making tracks in the woods. Their wallets of venison and corn bread were hastily drawn and supper eaten, and preparations made for a night hunt. The determined men roamed the woods in search of the missing child. The sun rose on the following morning in all its splendor upon that disappointed and unhappy family. After again partaking of their scanty meal and a thorough canvass of the situation and a full understanding as to the day's work before them, and in the firm belief that their labor would be crowned with success, the search began again. All day long those determined men searched the woods in every direction, examining every hollow log, every ravine, every treetop, pile of brush, in fact every conceivable place where the child may have wandered to or been taken by the wild beasts. About sundown of the second day, and when the party were about to stop work for the day, the booming of a cannon, as it seemed to the men, was heard at some distance from where the child had lost its way, and as this was the signal agreed upon in case the child should be found, the signal went forth almost simultaneously from the gun of every hunter of that party. But now the absorbing question was, did the child live or had its mutilated remains been found. The party proceeded to the point at once from whence the signal came. When in sight, the successful hunter was found standing upon a large log, his gun resting against the same, and in his arms he held the child. He had found it by the side of the log covered with leaves when lie was attempting to cross over the log in his search. His quick ear detected a slight movement of the child, and he quickly removed the covering of leaves to find that the child was naked and almost dead from hunger, fatigue and fright. They proceeded at once to the restoration of the lost one to the afflicted family, who at once, with the assistance of their kind friends, ad¬ ministered to the child's wants, after which they proceeded on their journey.

Catching A Thief

In 1832-33 taverns so called were numerous on the leading highways, and the business was not, by any means, a bad business. A and B lived upon one of these highways about one and a half miles apart, each of them keeping a tavern. This was indicated to the traveling public by some kind of a rude sign board stuck up about their premises. Sometimes considerable rivalry mixed with some jealousy existed between the two houses, and it is safe to say the best of feeling did not at all times exist between the pro¬ prietors thereof. About half way between these two houses lived C, who was friendly to A and B, but was thoroughly honest, despising a man who would do little mean things, and hating petty thieves. Neighbor A, as he believed, was losing corn from his crib in small quantities at a time, and as that commodity was scarce, and for that reason, among others, was precious to the tavern keeper, A was very much annoyed by the discovery finally he made the situation known to neighbor C, informing him at the same time that he suspected neighbor B. Neighbor C is all attention now, making many inquiries. Finally he went to A and said, "Have you any hickory rails on your place ?" A replied that he had, then C said, "Well I can tell you what to do. Saw a few blocks from the end of a rail, split them into pins very fine, then dress them down, sharpening them at both ends, then break up a lot of your corn, one ear at a time, insert one of these pins into each end of the ear, then put the corn together again. Return the corn to the crib then, placing the ears in a conspicuous place, and if you miss any of it let me know at once and I will assist you in catching the thief.', A did as he was directed. On the following morning he went to the crib before day¬ light for the purpose of making observations. He carried an old tin lantern and when he opened the door he found that his corn was gone. He hastened to the house of neighbor C and informed him of the fact and together they went to a grove near the stable of B to await developments. About daylight B came to his stable apprehending no danger of detection, proceeded to feed his horses, and immediately left for his house.

Scarcely had he entered when A and C left their hiding place and entered the barn. They took the corn from the feed trough, placed therein by B and quickly returned to the grove, where they found that each contained one of the splinters placed there by A. Neighbor C went to B\s house and called him out, telling him that he wanted to see him at the stable. They started in that direction, but C led the way past the stable to the grove, where A was waiting with the corn. A at once accused B of stealing his corn and produced the proof so conclusive and B confessed and begged for mercy. He was told by A and C that they had no desire to prosecute him; that if he would pledge them then and there to live an honorable life and steal no more the secret should be kept. He readily made the promise and faithfully kept it, so far as the public knew. The story was never told outside the families interested until after the death of neighbor B.

In 1845 Jacob Dye caught three cub bears near the Redman school house on the Patrick Sullivan farm. He took the young bears with him and undertook to tame them. He succeeded tolerably well with two of them, but the other one refused to be comforted and longed for his freedom, but Dye kept him chained. When this bear was three years old Dye offered to bet three hundred dollars that the bear could whip fifty of the best dogs in the neighborhood. The bet was taken. The time and place for the fight were fixed at Dye's mill in March, 1848. At the appointed time and place Mr. Dye was on hand with his bear, and so were the farmers. Some of them were from Hamilton and some from Boone county. The first half of the day was consumed in procuring a barrel of whisky and preliminary arrangements for the fight. The whisky was purchased with subscription money raised on that morning for that purpose. This was not much of a task as there were three or four hundred persons present. The barrel was taken to the old mill, turned on end and the head knocked out. A bo^rd was laid across the head and tin cups placed thereon. Boarding was arranged for those who intended to stay until the fight was over.

The fight was to be a finish ; the bear to be killed by the dogs or the dogs to be killed by the bear, unless one side or the other should choose before the fight ended to forfeit the money staked and end the fight. This being all arranged, the ground was selected where the fight was to take place. Bruin was brought out and chained to a small tree. The dogs were mar-

When night came quite a number of persons who had arranged to stay over night assembled at the mill and played cards, mostly for fun, but in some cases for the filthy lucre; and as usual, there were quarrels over the whisky and cards. Mr. Brock and Mr. Byrkett, I remember, who were playing cards for money, had a severe quarrel and threatened a fight, the friends of each taking sides ; but this blew over and the crowd dispersed for the night.

The next morning the most of the crowd was dry and repaired to the old mill, and, to quench their thirst, visited the whisky barrel. Brock and Byrkett soon renewed their quarrel of the night before and determined to settle their dispute by a fist fight. A ring was formed and the friends of each prepared to see fair play. The battle began. Both were adepts in the art and both were powerful. The battle was therefore a savage one, but like all battles, it came to an end. Then all parties repaired to the spot where the bear was chained and the preliminary arrangements for the fight were made. By this time it was noon. The arrangement was for five of the best * dogs to be turned into the ring at one time. The selection was made and each dog was held by the owner, awaiting the word "go."

One of the best of this lot of dogs belonged to George Aston, a notori¬ ous bully, and the next best dog belonged to a quiet farmer by the name of Norris. When the \yord "go" was given these two dogs, instead of attack¬ ing the bear, engaged each other in a battle, which soon became terrible, and which finally provoked a quarrel between the owners. This dog fight made it an easy matter for the bear in the first round. Result: Two dogs killed by the bear and one mortally wounded, and two disabled by fighting each other. The ropes were again tightened and the second batch of dogs awaited the signal. For some time the result of the second round was in doubt, but Bruin concluded to try the squeezing process. The bear picked up one of the largest dogs and without difficulty completely demolished him. This scared the other dogs and made the victory easy for the bear. This process was repeated until the close of the fifth round. When the call for the sixth round was made not an owner could be found who would let his dog go into the ring. The fight was therefore at an end and the bear was the winner.

This day wound up with a terrible fist fight between Aston and Norris. Aston, as I said, was a great bully, while Norris was a quiet farmer. Aston crowded Norris, while Norris avoided and feared him. Finally Aston cornered Norris, and the battle began in earnest. Norris, when he got fairly into the fight, fought for life, and Aston fought with full confidence in him¬ self. But he had tackled the wrong man and he received a terrible beating. This closed the second day's performance, and at night card playing and drinking were in order, but before the crowd separated arrangements were made with Mr. Dye for an old-fashioned shooting match for the bear the next day with six prizes. The writer hereof had the pleasure of eating a part of one of the hams of the bear.

One Way Of Settling A Debt

About the year 1832 James Shirts was serving an apprenticeship with F. B. Cogswell to the farmer's trade. By custom he was entitled to all the dog skins and ground-hog skins when tanned. A dog skin was tanned for a lad from the country about James' age and size. The country lad, when the skin was ready to deliver, received it on his promise to pay for it in a given time. When the time was up, James called on the lad for his money, but was put off for a time. Again demand was made and further time asked. This proceeding was continued from time to time until James became tired of it. So meeting the lad in Nobles ville, one day, he demanded his pay. Payment was not made, so James informed the country lad that he must pay then and there or take a thrashing. The lad said that was a game two could play at. They prepared for the fight and went at it. The fight was an even one for quite a while, with odds rather against James. By this time several persons had come upon the scene, and as was the custom, there was to be no interference until one or the other said enough. James finally suc¬ ceeded in getting one of the lad's ears in his mouth and chewed it vigorously. This was too much for the lad, so he gave the word "enough." James' teeth, however, had become set and had to be pried apart before the country lad could be released. After the fight was over James, who was about thir¬ teen years old, walked into a justice's office and, addressing him, said : "Squire, I tanned a dog skin for (naming him) and he refused to pay me. I have now tanned his hide and I want to pay the bill." The crowd had fol¬ lowed him to the justice's office. The speech was so novel and delivered with so much earnestness that the justice was taken by surprise. He said: "In view of the provocation and the youth of the offenders the said James will be permitted to go hence without bail." It was customary in those days to settle old scores in this way, but not debts, so the people looked upon it as a natural result of a quarrel. The country lad afterward became a good business man.

About the time of the removal of the first courthouse to the square a fight between two men occurred in Noblesville. One of them was arrested on the charge of assault and battery and was taken before a justice of the peace. There was a large number of witnesses, so the justice held the trial in the courthouse. After hearing all the evidence and arguments of the attorneys the justice directed the constable to lock all the doors leading from the court room. When this was done the justice delivered an opinion. He said that it appeared from the evidence that the parties who engaged in the fight differed in a conversation between them upon some matter not made clear to the court ; that they had fought an honorable battle and that there was doubt in the mind of the court as to which of the men was the aggressor; that the prisoner was entitled to the benefit of this doubt. The court finds that the justice and the constable have done all the work in this matter and that the audience has had all the fun. It is therefore ordered that the audience pay the costs of this trial and that they remain in the court room until the costs are paid. The joke was such a good one that the costs were then and there paid and court adjourned.

Miscellaneous

The first settlers in Fall Creek township were two men by the name of Bridge and Sawyer. These men built the first cabins in the township as early as the year 1821. One of the cabins was built on the south bank of Fall creek at the mouth of Thorpe's creek, but was before the latter creek was named. The other cabin was built on the north bank of Fall creek where the old Indian trace, leading from Noblesville to Greenfield crossed the creek. When, a few years later, other settlers came to the township, they found these two deserted cabins and never knew who built them. Mr. Shirts gives the following explanation of the mystery of the two lone cabins in the wilderness. "The writer of this history learned by accident that the last named cabin was built by a man named Bridge, and, as will be shown here¬ after, it is probable that the first named cabin was built by a man by the name of Sawyer, who was a brother-in-law to Bridge. Bridge frequently visited the trading post of William Conner. There was at that time an Indian trail leading past Bridge's cabin from the east to William Conner's trading post and when asked what he was doing he (Bridge) said hunting and trapping. Bridge, Sr., Bridge, Jr., and Sawyer resided in Fall Creek township, Hatnil- ton county, Indiana. Hudson lived in Hancock county, Indiana, very near Sawyer and the Bridges. It is not known where Harper lived. It was evi¬ dent that the conspiracy to murder these Indians was formed in Hamilton county and as three of the guilty parties resided therein, it is proper that the whole circumstance should be related in this work." He further gives his authority for the reports of the murder trials from O. H. Smith's Early Indiana Trials and Sketches and the other facts were gathered from old settlers of the county. The facts concerning the murder trials following were obtained from the same source, which is undoubtedly a reliable one, as Hon. O. H. Smith was the attorney for the state in the trials of Sawyer and the Bridges and he was largely responsible for obtaining a verdict of first degree murder in the trial of Sawyer.

A Forest Conspiracy

Early in the spring of 1824 a party of Seneca Indians, consisting of two men named Ludlow and Mingo, three squaws and four children were en¬ camped on the east side of Fall creek about eight miles northeast of the pres¬ ent site of Pendleton. The surrounding country was all new at that time arid there were but a few scattered settlements between Indianapolis and Pendleton. Madison county had just been recently organized with Pendle¬ ton as the seat of justice. The country around the Indians' camp was one unbroken forest. As all the Indians had not gone west at this time it was no uncommon thing for parties to locate and hunt in any of these unsettled localities, as the hunting and trapping were excellent at this early day, al¬ though it is said the white settlers were uneasy when it was known a band of Indians were near and, while the settlers left them unmolested, a sharp watch was kept on the movements of the natives. The Indians began their season's work, the men hunting in the woods with guns and the squaws set¬ ting traps, caring for the children and cooking and preparing the game. The children of the party consisted of two bovs about ten years of age and two girls somewhat younger. A week passed in this manner and the Indians had had fair successes but the season was still early and they had prospects of better successes to come. Ludlow and Mingo with their squaws and chil¬ dren were seated around their camp fire, unsuspicious of harm and un¬ conscious of any approaching enemies, when there approached through the woods five white men, Harper, Sawyer, Hudson, Bridge, Sr., and Bridge, Jr. Harper, being the leader of the band accosted the Indians as friends and took Ludlow by the hand. He told the Indians his party had lost their horses and begged the assistance of the red men to help locate the missing animals. The Indians "void of offense" toward any man and unsuspicious of any treachery readily consented to lend their assistance in the search. Ludlow went in one direction and Mingo in another, with Harper following the former and Hudson the latter, keeping some fifty yards behind their intended victims. When they had traveled some short distance from the camp, Harper shot Ludlow through the body killing the Indian almost instantly. He fell on his face dead. This being the signal, Sawyer hearing the shot, fired in¬ stantly at Mingo, the ball striking him just below the shoulder blade and passing entirely through his body. Mingo also fell dead. Then the murder¬ ers met and all returned within firing distance of the camp to complete their bloody deeds. Sawyer shot one of the squaws through the head. She died without a struggle. Bridge, Sr., and Bridge, Jr., each fired and killed the other two squaws, killing both instantly. Sawyer then fired at the oldest boy but only wounded him. Other members of the party killed the other three children. Harper then led the way into the camp which but a short time before had been a happy family circle and now in which only one boy re¬ mained alive, though wounded. Three squaws and three children lay dead. Sawyer completed the terrible deed by taking the living child by the heels and dashing his brains out against the end of a log. Then the marauders completed the deed for which the murders had been the preface. They robbed the camp of furs, game and everything of any value, carrying away the booty with them. Harper, the leader of the gang, left immediately for Ohio and was never brought to justice. Sawyer, Hudson, Bridge, Sr., and Bridge, Jr., were arrested shortly after the crime and placed in jail in Pendle¬ ton. Mr. O. H. Smith gives the following description of the prisoners. "When I first saw them they were confined in a square log jail, built of heavy beech and sugar tree logs, notched down closely and fitting tight above, below and on the sides. I entered with the sheriff. The prisoners were all heavily ironed and sitting on the straw on the floor. Hudson was a man about mid¬ dle size with a bad look, dark eye and bushy hair, about thirty-five years of age in appearance. Sawyer was about the same age, rather heavier than Hud¬ son, but there was nothing in his appearance that could have marked him in a crowd, as any other than a common farmer. Bridge, Sr., was much older than Sawyer; his head was quite gray, he was above the common height, slender, and a little bent while standing. Bridge, Jr., was some eighteen years of age, a tall stripling. Bridge, Sr., was the father of Bridge, Jr., and the brother-in-law of Sawyer."

Primitive Justice

The news of this terrible crime spread like wild fire. The settlers were greatly alarmed for fear the other bands of Indians would wreak vengeance on the innocent settlers for the crime of these white men. An account of the murders was sent to the war department at Washington. Colonel John Johnston of the Indian agency at Piqua, Ohio, hearing of the crime took a hand in the matter. He, with William Conner, who was personally ac¬ quainted with most of the Indians, visited all the Indian tribes and assured them that the government would punish the offenders, and obtained the promise of the chiefs and warriors that they would wait and see what their ''Great Father" would do before they took the matter into their own hands. The fears of the settlers being thus allayed, the Indians and the white settlers went quietly about their respective work and the preparations went forward for the trial. A new log building was erected in north Pendleton, probably for the direct purpose of holding the great trial. It contained two rooms, one for the court and the other for the grand jury. The court room was about twenty by thirty feet with a heavy "puncheon" floor, a platform three feet high was across one end, enclosed by strong railing and containing a bench for the judges and a table for the clerk. In front on the floor was a long bench for the counsel, a little pen for the prisoners and a side bench for the witnesses, the whole being separated from the remainder of the court room by a strong pole with heavy supports, thus keeping the court and bar separate from the crowd. The jail was well guarded both day and night to prevent the prisoners' escape. The court was composed of three judges, William W. Wick, presiding judge, Samuel Holliday and Adam Winchell, associates. Judge Wick was young on the bench but with much experience in criminal trials. Judge Holliday was described in the Smith narrative of the trial as "one of the best and most conscientious men I ever knew." Judge Winchell was a blacksmith and had ironed the prisoners; he was an honest, rough, frank, illiterate man, without any pretensions to legal knowledge. The clerk, Moses Cox, could barely write his name. When a candidate for justice of the peace at Connersville, he insisted he was better qualified than his opponent -because, he said, "I have been sued on every section of the statute and know all about the law, while my competitor has never been sued and knows nothing about the statute." Samuel Cory, the sheriff, was a typical Hoosier of that time, tall and strong from clean living, with a voice that made the woods ring as he called the jurors and witnesses.

While the county was thus fortifying itself for the coming trial, the government was also busy. Colonel Johnston, the Indian agent, was to attend the trials and see that the witnesses were present and their fees paid in full. The secretary of war employed General James Noble, at that time United States senator, to prosecute and having power to fee an assistant, he employed Philip Sweetzer, his son-in-law, an excellent young man as his assistant. The regular prosecuting attorney was Calvin Fletcher, a young man of no mean ability.

The Scene In Court

The trial of Hudson was the first on the docket and the great day finally arrived. With it began to arrive the great lawyers from this state and Ohio. Judge Wick was absent at the beginning of the trial, which left the associate judges in charge. William R. Morris, one of the lawyers for defense, arose and moved, "I ask that these gentlemen (referring to the lawyers) be ad¬ mitted as attorneys and counsellors at this bar ; they are regular practitioners,* but have not brought their licenses with them.'' Judge Winchell - "Have they come here to defend the prisoners ?"

"Well, Mr. Morris, to cut the matter short, it would do you no good to bring out the prisoners, I ironed them myself, and you will never get those irons off until they have been tried, habeas corpus or no habeas corpus." That settled the question, and then Judge Wick entered and took -his seat be¬ tween the two associates.

General Sampson Mason published in an Ohio paper the following description of the court scene. "As I entered the court room the judge was sitting on a block paring his toe nails, when the sheriff entered out of breath

Mr. Smith remarks, apropos of this description, "General Mason, with all his candor, unquestionably drew upon his imagination in this instance/' The grand jury all answered to their names and were sworn before noon. After noon the grand jury brought in an indictment for murder drawn by the prosecuting attorney, Mr. Fletcher, against Hudson. The prisoner was then brought into court by the deputy and two guards. His term of confine¬ ment had told greatly on his appearance, as he was now haggard and worn and with eyes downcast and faltering voice and he answered "not guilty" upon his arraignment. The petit jury were strong, hardy pioneers, wearing "moccasins and side knives." The evidence in the case occupied but one day and was conclusive and positive, closing every avenue of hope for the doomed man. The prosecuting attorney read the statute concerning the punishment to a homicide and plainly stated the substance of the evidence. The attorneys for the defense made able and eloquent speeches appealing to the prejudice of the jury against the Indians, relating at length the various Indian massacres of white men, women and children, reading the principle incidents in the life of Daniel Boone and other Indian fighters. General Noble closed the argu¬ ment for the state in a very able and forcible speech. He presented the bloody garments of the murdered Indians, appealed to the justice and love of law of the jury and adding as a final argument that the lives and safety of the settlers in the state might depend largely upon justice being done in the trial in hand. Judge Wick charged the jury at length, especially emphasizing the fact that "the murder of an Indian was equally as criminal in law as the murder of the white man." The jury retired and when court convened the following morning they brought in a verdict of "guilty of murder in the first degree." Motion for a new trial being overruled, the prisoner was brought into court and received his sentence of death from Judge Wick. The time for execution was set and the prisoner returned to jail. Before the day of execution arrived, however, the prisoner made his escape from the guard one dark night, fled to the woods where he hid himself in a hollow log. But his freedom was short lived for he was hunted and found in the log and brought back and lodged in jail, where he remained until the fatal day.

Finally the day arrived for the execution. Multitudes of people were there and among them were several Senecas, relatives of the murdered Indians. The gallows was erected just above the falls on the north side. The people covered the surrounding hills and at the appointed hour, Hudson, by the forfeiture of his life, made the last earthly atonement for his crimes.

Such was the result of the first case on record in America where a white man was hung for killing an Indian. The other cases were continued until the next term of court. This trial and execution took place in 1824.

Trial Of Sawyer

Monday morning of the next term came, and court met. Judge Eggles¬ ton and Judges Adam Winchell and Samuel Holliday, associate judges, took their seats, with Moses Cox at the clerk's desk, Samuel Cory on the sheriff's platform and Col. John Berry, captain of the guards, leaning against the logs. The grand jury were called, sworn and charged, and court adjourned for dinner. In the afternoon the evidence of the main witnesses was heard. O. H. Smith, prosecuting attorney, had prepared indictments in his office in Indianapolis. These he presented to the foreman of the grand jury. The foreman signed the bills on his knee, and they were returned into court before the adjournment that night. The court met the next morning. It was agreed between counsel for the state and defense that Sawyer should be tried first for the shooting of one of the squaws. The prisoner was brought into court. He appeared haggard and very much changed by his long confinement. The court room was crowded. Gen. James Noble, Philip Sweetzer and O. H. Smith appeared for the state and James Rariden, Lot Bloomfield, William R. Morris and Charles H. Zest for the prisoner. Judge Eggleston - "Sheriff, call the petit jury.*' Judge Winchel - "Sheriff, call 'Squire Make¬ peace on the jury, he will be a good juror. He will not let one of these mur¬ derers get away." Judge Eggleston, turning to Judge Winchell - "This will never do. What, the court pick a jury to try a capital case?" The jury was soon impaneled. The evidence was conclusive that the prisoner had shot one of the squaws at the camp after the killing of Ludlow and Mingo by Harper and Hudson. The jury, too, were a hardy, heavy-bearded set of men, with side knives in their belts, and all wore moccasins. Mr. Sweetzer opened for the state with a strong speech. He was followed in able speeches by Mr. Morrison, Mr. Zest and Mr. Rariden for the prisoner. General Noble closed for the state. The case went to the jury under an able charge from Judge Eggleston and court adjourned for dinner. At the meeting of court after dinner, the jury returned the verdict of guilty of manslaughter, two years of hard labor in the penitentiary. Sawyer was immediately put upon trial be¬ fore the same jury for the murder of the Indian boy at the camp. The evi¬ dence was heard and was conclusive against the prisoner. Able speeches were made by counsel for the state and also for the prisoner. The jury was charged by the court and retired for deliberation. After an absence of only a few minutes the jury returned a verdict of guilty of murder in the first degree. The prisoner was remanded and court adjourned.

The next morning the case of Bridge, Sr., for shooting a little girl at the Indian camp, was called. The prisoner entered with the sheriff. A jury was impaneled. The proof was positive. The case was argued as in the case of Sawyer; the jury was charged and after a few minutes' absence, returned a verdict of guilty of murder in the first degree.

The trial was more brief, but the result was the same - verdict of murder in the first degree, but with a recommendation to the Governor for a pardon in consequence of his youth, in which the court and bar joined. The trials closed, motions for new trials overruled and court adjourned until the next day. The next morning the prisoners were brought into court and the sentence of death pronounced. The time for the execution was fixed for a distant day, but it soon rolled around. The gallows were erected on the north bank of Fall creek, just above the falls. When the hour for the execu¬ tion had arrived, thousands surrounded the gallows. A Seneca chief, with his warriors, was posted near the brow of the hill. Sawyer and Bridge, Sr., ascended the scaffold together and were executed in quick succession, dying without a struggle. The vast audience was in tears. The exclamation of the Senecas was interpreted. "We are satisfied/' An hour expired, the bodies were taken down and laid in their coffins, when there was seen ascending the scaffold, Bridge, Jr., the last of the convicts. His step was feeble, requiring the aid of the sheriff ; the rope was adjusted. He threw his eyes around upon the audience and then down upon the coffins, where lay, exposed, the bodies of his father and uncle. From that moment his wild gaze too clearly showed that the scene had been too much for his youthful mind. Reason had par¬ tially left her throne and he stood wildly looking at the crowd, apparently un¬ conscious of his position. The last minute had come, when James R. Ray, governor of the state, announced to the immense assemblage that the convict was pardoned. Perhaps never before did an audience more heartily respond, while there was a universal regret that the executive mercy had been deferred to the last moment. Thus ended the first trials in the United States where convictions for murder were had and followed by the execution of white men for killing Indians.

Bridge, Sr.. Bridge, Jr., and Sawyer resided in Fall Creek township, Hamilton county, Indiana. Hudson lived in Hancock county, Indiana, very near Sawyer and Bridge, Sr. It was not known where Harper lived. It was evident that the conspiracy to murder these Indians was formed in Hamilton county, Indiana, and as three of the guilty parties resided therein, it is proper that the whole circumstance should be related in this work. The main facts in connection with the murders and trials of murderers have been taken from the reports of the murders and trials written by O. H. Smith and published in his work entitled, "Early Indiana Trials and Sketches/' The other facts were learned from the old settlers.

The Sad Experience Of Eli Terry

Eli Terry was a free negro living near Broad Ripple. In 1841 he was employed by a white man named James Carter to do a year's work which in¬ cluded a trip to Missouri and other work when the journey there and back should be completed. Immediate preparations were made for the journey which was made without any incident of note happening. Carter had one son with him. After a short stay in Missouri, Carter announced to Terry that he was ready to return to Indiana. In payment for services already rendered, Carter turned over to the negro a horse, saddle and bridle. They were now in the wilds of Missouri and one dark night Terry was awakened without previous notice and the journey presumably to Indiana was begun. After a few days travel, Terry observed to the white man that he believed they were traveling in the wrong direction. Carter replied that he knew they were not going home now, that he had a brother in Arkansas whom he wished to see and after arriving there they would return by boat on the river as it was much easier traveling that way. Finally they arrived at the sup¬ posed destination, but Carter's brother was mysteriously absent, having re¬ moved to Red River, Texas. It seemed very urgent that Carter see his brother so the party set out for Texas, passing through the Choctaw Indians' land. Arriving in Texas, Carter told the negro it was unlawful for a free negro to remain in Texas, as he was liable to be caught and sold into slavery. To prevent such a happening Carter warned Terry to acknowledge him (Carter) as his master while on Texas ground. Clarksville is sixteen miles from Red River and when within two miles of the former, Carter concluded that was a good place to stop. The father and son arranged for the negro to remain with their camp while they went to town, saying they would re¬ turn when their business was completed and the whole party would return to Indiana. Accordingly, Carter went to Clarksville and there, under the as¬ sumed name of Brewer, sold Terry to a man named West, the consideration being six hundred dollars, one-half in money and a note for the remainder. The note, drawn in the name of Brewer, was then traded to a man named Reed for a tract of land. Carter immediately sold the land for cash. After thus carefully covering his tracks, he and his son left in the night after visit¬ ing the camp and after taking the horses and other available things with them. They left the negro to his fate, while they returned home with their ill-gotten gains. The next day West came and claimed Terry as his property and for the first time the negro saw how he had been tricked. Terry's assertion that he was a free negro was unheeded by West, who, in spite of Terry's plead¬ ings, took him into bondage. Can the poor man's misery be imagined? Many miles removed from his friends and relatives, among a people hostile to him as a free man and made to labor and toil for a cruel master, with almost no hope in the future of his condition being bettered. For eight long years he toiled as a slave of West. Then West sold the negro to a man named Chatfield who was going to take Terry farther south and sell him there. If any¬ thing could be more miserable than slavery in Texas, it was slavery farther south. Terry's heart died within him at the news but help was nearer than he thought.

Friends To The Rescue

No word reached the friends of Terry in Indiana as to his whereabouts for several years. What had become of him was a mystery. At last after eight years in some manner, they learned that Terry was in«Texas held in slavery. An appeal was made for donations to head an expedition which would go to Texas to the rescue of the unfortunate man. The Friends of Hamilton county, especially those of Washington township, ever ready to help the weak and down trodden, responded liberally. At last the plans were made for the expedition, Thomas W. Council heading the party. Mr. Council selected Paris Harrison of Hamilton county and Mr. Ryman of Lawrenceburg as witnesses to prove the identity of Terry. Mr. Harrison was espe¬ cially fitted for the expedition which might prove a dangerous one, as he was a man of great courage and fighting qualities ; though he was small in stature he was mighty in valor. On the ninth of December, 1849, Mr. Council and Mr. Harrison left on their perilous trip. Proceeding over the Madison & Indianapolis railroad, they were joined by Mr. Ryman at Lawrenceburg. At Lawrenceburg, where a stop was made, a discussion came up as to how the rescuing party had better arm themselves. Several citizens joined in the discussion and it was the general opinion that bowie knives and revolvers would be the proper weapons of defense, but Mr. Council was more level headed than his advisors and he decided the party would go unarmed. Per¬ haps the fact that the Quakers met most of the expenses of the expedition had some influence on his decision. The journey was a toilsome, weary one. They proceeded by boat to Cincinnati, where they took passage for New Orleans. Their first object was to procure passage up Red river. The party secured passage on a boat bound for Shrevesport. When they arrived at Shrevesport, they learned that it was five hundred miles to Clarksville. Finally they secured passage on a small boat to a town called Jefferson. Here the party hired horses and went to Sulphur Fork. Crossing Sulphur Fork, the party pushed on in the direction of Clarksville. About two miles from Clarksville they halted at a convenient house where they remained over night and the next morning arrived at their destination. The party suc¬ ceeded in making friends of two of the best citizens of Clarksville from whom thev learned that Terry was in the vicinity. West had just recently sold the negro to Chatfield who was to start with Terry to New Orleans in a day or two The rescuing party came just in time. It was Sunday when Council and his party arrived, so they lost no time. The following morning they got out a writ for the release of Terry and put it into the hands of the sheriff who in a short time had Terry in his charge. This was all done on the quiet but w hen Terry was taken in charge by the sheriff, the news spread like wild fire. It was arranged that the sheriff should take Terry to the office of lawyer Morrell, but the news of their coming preceded them and upon their arrival, the house was filled with a motley throng of men and boys and perhaps a few women, who had often before bid defiance to law and order and executed vengeance as pleased themselves. It was a trying and danger¬ ous moment for the little party of rescuers. The law was on their side and if it prevailed all was well, but if not all was lost. The judge on that oc¬ casion is described as a "man of great, determination and his appearance gave him the ferocity of a beast, with no well defined marks of humanity." But for all that he seemed to be a man of high honor. He himself questioned the negro. "Is there anyone in this room with whom you were acquainted in Indiana?" he asked of Terry. The negro glanced wildly around the room till his eyes fell on Mr. Harrison, then he quickly cried, "There is Mr. Har¬ rison, he knows I am a free man." The judge continued his interrogations concerning the things back in Indiana all of which Terry answered satisfac¬ torily, while the enemies of the party looked on with vengeance and hatred in their faces. A shrewd lawyer undertook to defend the case for West who was away on a journey, and with fierce threats and insinuations made the matter look very uncertain for the negro and his friends from Indiana. The judge at this juncture postponed further hearing until West should return. The negro was taken in charge by the sheriff for safe keeping. It was nine days before West returned and during that time, Council and his party wrere unmolested except for attempts at intimidation, such as pointing out a certain tree to the Hoosiers upon which the mob had already hanged six men, but the Indiana party were brave men and not easily frightened. When West returned the judge again took up the case. Again the mob gathered. The witnesses were examined and cross-examined. The lawyers made long speeches, and then the judge promptly decided Terry was a free man. At this unpopular decision the opposing mob was very angry and swore they would appeal the case. Council was prepared for such a move and promptly informed them if an appeal was made that they should pay for every day's work the negro had done and for every stripe he had been given, but if they would let the case stand as it then was, Terry would sign a paper releasing them from all action or cause of action against them. The opposing party w isely accepted the proposition and the negro was given into the hands of his friends. The party immediately set out for the north for they wrere in constant danger of attack while on Texas soil. But the journey home was made without further mishap and Council and his party returned the negro to his family and friends once more a free man.

The Bridegroom Who Never Came

About sixty years ago, wedding invitations were issued announcing the approaching nuptials of two excellent young people. The bride, then resid¬ ing with her parents a fewr miles west of Noblesville, was, as the society column would say today, "one of the county's most popular and talented young ladies." The groom was not a native of Hamilton county although he was a young man of irreproachable character and also a man of some wealth for that time. The wedding day drew' near and the preparations for the grand occasion were almost completed. The bride was happy as all brides should be and the groom had arrived safely in Noblesville from his home in a distant part of the state. The great day arrived! At the ap¬ pointed hour the guests filled the rooms of the bride's home with laughter and gaiety and all were merry as a wedding bell. At last the minister who w^as to tie the nuptial knot arrived on the scene. But the groom, who had gone to Noblesville to make some necessary arrangements, had not yet arrived. But no uneasiness was felt, for the minister announced to the bride's rela¬ tives that he had seen and been speaking with the voung man just previous to his leaving town to attend the wedding. The young man was to have come with the minister but as he still had a little matter of business to attend to before leaving town, he informed the preacher he would hire another means of conveyance as soon as the business was transacted and be at the side of his bride very shortly after the minister's arrival. Again the laughter and music went on, for a wedding in those days was an occasion of great social importance and of merry making. The minutes slipped by and the bridegroom did not come. Still no uneasiness was felt. He had been un¬ avoidably detained and would arrive presently. With the sound of every approaching footstep, every one looked expectantly toward the door but was doomed to disappointment. The hour set for the wedding came and passed and still no bridegroom appeared. Uneasiness became manifest. Again and again the minister was appealed to for reassurance. He had been the one who had last seen the young man. Again and again he repeated the conversation with the bridegroom whose parting words declared his inten¬ tion of being at the bride's house in a short time. At last the minister's words of comfort and assurance failed to have the desired effect. A sense of dread and fear came to the bride, dressed and waiting for the bridegroom who had not come to claim her. The gay chatter of the guests died away and in its place came a whisper, "Had the bridegroom deserted his bride or had some evil befallen him?" The wedding feast grew cold as the minutes grew into hours and still no word, no sign from the missing young man. The bride was almost prostrated with grief and fear for she never doubted her loved one's honor. The guests one by one silently left the home which had changed from a house of joy to one of weeping.

A search for the young man was begun immediately. His own people employed detectives who worked diligently for days. All clues were run to earth but still no trace of the missing man could be found. The last per¬ son known to have seen him was the minister, whose conversation with the missing man occurred on the south side of the public square. The young man had started west, the minister immediately starting for the bride's home saw no more of him and no one else had apparently seen him either alive or dead afterwards. It was as though the ground had opened and swallowed him so complete was his disappearance. His relatives and his bereaved bride believed he had met with foul play. As he carried considerable money on his person, they believed he had been attacked and robbed. There were no banks here then in which to deposit money. But no clue to establish their theory or any other could they find though detectives and friends searched for years afterwards.

Murder Will Out

The years rolled around and the incident was forgotten by many. The little disappointed bride never forgot. She was true to her first love always, though, believing him dead, she finally several years afterwards married an¬ other and removed to another state where she lived to the time of her death. She never knew what became of her girlhood lover. What sorrow she suffered through all those years may well be imagined. Half a century rolled around, a half century crowded full of modern inventions, ideas and improvements. None of the later generation ever even heard of the missing bridegroom and almost all the older citizens had forgotten it, even if they had at one time heard the strange story.

About 1911 some workmen were doing some excavating or destroying some old sheds not far from the river bank somewhere near the end of Con¬ ner street or Maple avenue, when they struck something hard. They dug deeper and found an old chest of some sort. Their curiosity was naturally aroused and finally by main force they pried off the lid which had become set and rusted with age. What was their horror and astonishment when they found a human skeleton doubled together to fit the capacity of the chest. The news spread and as there had been no reported murder of any one miss¬ ing for years, the wonder grew as to the solution of the mystery. Then some old citizen recalled the story of the bridegroom who never came and every one wondered if this skeleton could have been the remains of that man. A curiously carved ring was found in or near the chest which was the only clue to the identity of the murdered man, for murder it certainly was, but when or by whom committed was the mystery. It was difficult to get in communica¬ tion with any relatives or friends of the long-missing bridegroom. Many of his relatives and friends, among them his intended wife, were dead. Finally a brother was located and communication established. He was told of the curious ring and later identified the ring as belonging to his long lost brother. He said there had been but two such rings in existence as far as he knew. His father had had two rings made, one for each of his sons and he identified this newly-found ring as a twin to the one he owned. This seemed to prove conclusively the identity of the skeleton and cleared the mystery of years' standing. It was later recalled that some suspicious characters had resided in the section of town where the skeleton was unearthed and that suspicion of the crime had been attached to them at the time of the disappearance of the young man, but nothing could be proven against any of them and so the criminals, who or whatever they were, had long ago disappeared.

A Pioneer Elopement

In the summer of 1839 a rather romantic attempt was made by Peter Beaver, who resided at Germantown, to elope with Susan Hudson. Peter was a widower, having been twice married. He had been paying his re¬ spects to Miss Susan for some time. When this became known to Miss Susan's parents, they objected to his advances. Clandestine meetings be¬ tween the pair followed, resulting in an agreement to run away. It was ar¬ ranged that on a certain day Peter was to procure a marriage license and at night Susan was to meet him at George Beaver's; from there they were to proceed to the residence of a justice of the peace to be married. Peter sup¬ posed that he could procure a license in Indianapolis. On the day appointed Peter went to the city and Susan prepared, as well as she could, to carry out her part of the arrangement. The dooryard was fenced in with paling fence and Susan, in order to get to George Beaver's unobserved, pulled off a paling remote from the doors and windows, so that she could the more reajdily escape from the yard. In the meantime the family became aware that something was wrong and set a sister of Susan's to watch her. It had been agreed that Susan should be notified when Peter returned. To get this information she was frequently out at the fence and her sister was invariably at her side. Finally the word came to Susan that Peter had returned and the time came for her to act. Susan made her way as quietly as possible to the hole in the fence, her sister still at her side; then Susan suddenly turned upon her sister and, like an animal at bay, struck her with her open hand on the head. Susan then darted through the fence and ran with all her might to George Beaver's, where Peter was already waiting for her. Her sister soon recovered from the blow and gave the alarm. Her father and two brothers responded to the call and at once pursued the fleeing Susan. Beaver saw that it would not do for her to stop at the house, so he told her to run on through to a cornfield beyond. This she accomplished unob¬ served by her father and brothers. In the meantime they surrounded the house and demanded the girl. George Beaver told them that Susan was not in the house and that they could come in and see, which they did. A search of the premises disclosed the fact that the girl was not there. By this time things began to look lively. The Hudsons went to the store of Baker & Finch and insisted that the girl had been concealed there. They demanded permission to search the place, which was given them, but they did not find her. Peter, in the meantime, put on innocent airs, dressed up in miller's clothes, procured a lantern and blanket and started for the mill with the avowed purpose of tending the mill that night. In the blanket, however, he had concealed his wedding suit. By this time the curiosity of all the people in and near the village had been fully aroused; all taking sides with one or the other party. Two persons, somewhat noted in the neighborhood, finally took a hand. Doctor Cunningham, one of them, took the Beaver side, and Mat Clifton the side of the Hudsons. Mat was not long in discovering that Cunningham intended to aid Beaver and Susan, and was just as fully de¬ termined to aid the Hudsons, so with all the cunning and ingenuity of an Indian, which he possessed, he set to work watching Cunningham.

In 1828 there was quite a flood in this section, but owing to the lack of improvements at that early date, no damage worthy of note took place. In January, 1847, occurred the second great flood. Mr. Shirts says of it: "All the bottom lands along the river were covered with water and driftwood, fences were washed away, grain that had remained in the bottom fields in cultivation was washed away by the water, shocks of corn and fodder, securely tied as it had been left in the fall before, were frequently seen floating down the river. I remember seeing a pig on one of these shocks floating past Nobles ville. It was eating corn, apparently as unconcerned as it would have been in the barn lot at home. On another shock was a chicken floating quietly down stream. The mill dam across the river where Clare is now sit¬ uated was washed out. Also the mill which stood at that place was washed away. The part of the mill fixtures called 'hoppers' floated down the river. The water on this occasion came over the bank at the west end of Conner street in Noblesville and flowed south through the old canal. A part of the old cemetery was covered by water."

At different times after 1847 the river came up high after the spring or winter rains. At several times in recent years the residents of the south¬ west part of town, commonly called "Johnstown," have had to be rescued in boats from their partly submerged homes. Usually the rescuing had to be done in the dead of night, for the water always came up suddenly and un¬ expectedly. But no flood within the memory of man and probably for long ages previous has ever equaled the great floods that swept the entire river valleys of Ohio and Indiana in March, 1913. Just previous to Easter Sun¬ day heavy rains and thaws were the natural forerunner of the following high waters. On Sunday night and the following day and night the rain descended in veritable torrents. By Tuesday morning the region of White river was one great sea of rushing, muddy water. It continued to rise until Wednesday, when the. waters reached their height. The sight was one never to be forgotten by those who saw it. Viewing the river from the Noblesville side, where the Lake Erie & Western bridge spans the stream, it was an awe-inspiring spectacle. The water being about three feet higher than the lower iron span of the bridge, dashed and beat against the iron structure until it seemed it could not withstand the strain much longer. Heavy cars of coal were run on to the bridge to weight it down. As water, like murder, "will out," it washed a great mass of earth away between the pier and town and came rushing through the gap thus formed as though to tear at the very foundation of Noblesville. At this point a span of the track was entirely undermined and two cars loaded with coal hung sus¬ pended in mid-air above the madly rushing waters for at least twenty-four hours before the cars went crashing into the water below. The flood ex¬ tended from this point to the foot of the property owned by John Hare on Federal Hill, the fields and road included in that section being entirely sub¬ merged and the houses being in various stages of flood from a foot or two of water in some to the eaves in others. Where the wagon road passes under the railroad, just across the river, there was formed a natural water¬ way, through which the water rushed with terrific force. Telephone poles, trees, logs and all sort of debris caused added danger to bridges and houses in the path of the water.

People Rescued In Boats

In the southern part of town the damage was greatest. The entire section west of the Lake Erie & Western railroad and south of the Midland railroad was held in the grip of the flood. The houses farthest from the river had but a few inches of water in them, while a few in the low lands were so completely submerged as to be unable to withstand the floods and floated away. The people in that section were rescued in boats and in a few instances the rescue was just in time to save the occupants from going down with their ruined homes. Many pathetic incidents occurred at this time. One old man, it was said, had just finished paying for his little home, when the flood came and carried away all his earthly possessions. The homes which remained were in a terrible state when the waters went down. Many of the homes will show the "high water mark" in places for years to come. The old cemetery was almost entirely under water, the tops of the highest monuments being all that was visible. After the water receded the marble slabs leaned to the south very much and were thrown down in some instances and it was even said some human bones were washed from their long rest¬ ing places. For two days Noblesville was entirely cut off from the outside world. No train or traction car could travel, as the tracks were under water and many bridges washed away. The only news consisted of the meager messages which came over the few wires that remained intact. The first train out of Indianapolis was the Lake Erie & Western, which could come only as far as Noblesville. It was several weeks before the damage was sufficiently repaired to allow travel the entire length of this road and the trains made their daily trips between the capital city and Noblesville for some time without being able to go farther north.

But a common calamity always brings out a common sympathy. The more fortunate citizens of our town and county donated liberally of their means. Money, provisions, furniture and clothing were given to the un¬ fortunate flood victims until it was said some of them were better off after the flood than they had been before it. However, this was not true in many instances, for no amount of help could entirely repair the damage or replace the little personal belongings of home and family.

Wily Plan Outwitted

Germantown was then, and is now, on the north or west side of Fall creek; the dam in which the water was gathered for the mill was a short distance above. On this dam a good canoe was always kept. On the opposite side of the creek resided a justice of the peace, and this was the objective point for Peter and Susan; here they were to be married, provided they could run the Hudson gauntlet. Doctor Cunningham had succeeded in finding and secreting Susan ; then he formed his plan, which was to keep the Hudsons up all night, or nearly so, and when they returned home for re¬ freshments and sleep, Beaver and Susan were to be taken across the creek in the canoe by Cunningham. This plan was made known to Peter and Susan and they very readily entered into it. They now had nothing to do but wait for an opportunity to steal away.

In the meantime Mat Clifton was not idle; he had managed his cards well and had in some way become fully aware of the Cunningham plan and laid his accordingly. He kept up an appearance of searching until well into the after part of the night, when, knowing just where the canoe was to land, he posted the Hudsons, with a friend or two, and all became quiet. About daylight the next morning Peter and Susan, arrayed in what they supposed were their wedding garments, preceded by Cunningham, made their way to the canoe. All seemed to be peaceful and everything was surely quiet Peter and Susan took their places in the canoe, the doctor shoved it out into the stream and Peter pulled for the opposite shore, feeling assured that they had outwitted the enemy. When the canoe struck the opposite shore, Susan, having been seated in that end, was immediately seized by the Hudsons. Her wrists were gently but firmly bound and the canoe shoved out in the stream. The Hudsons were for the time being masters of the situation. Susan was taken home and was for some time kept under surveillance. Her parents, to cure her, as they said, sent her to a married sister at or near Westfield. For quite a while nothing was heard of the affair. It is fair to assume, however, that Peter and Susan either saw or heard from each other occasionally. It appears, at least, that the matter was not fully disposed of.

At that time there lived in Noblesville a William Archer, engaged in peddling clocks, and to some extent privileged character. To him Peter applied for aid, and not in vain. Archer was the kind of a man for the work and the job just suited him. He visited Susan's brother-in-law ostensibly for the purpose of selling him a clock and managed while there to speak to Susan in Peter's interest. The result was an agreement to call on a certain day when Susan would be ready. Archer called on the day agreed upon, and while he was making an effort to sell the brother-in-law a clock, Susan, unobserved, stole out of the house and secreted herself in the barn and near the road where the black wagon was standing. When Archer returned to his wagon Susan jumped in. Archer quickly unfastened the horses and dashed away. They were in Noblesville before the astonished brother-inlaw recovered from his surprise. Susan was met at Noblesville by her lover and they were married, thus outwitting the Hudsons at last.

The Underground Railroad

Prior to the Civil War "the underground railroad'' played quite a prom¬ inent part in the history of Hamilton county. Its operation was largely carried on by the Friends in the western part of the county, though not all its supporters belonged to that or any particular religious denomination. The principal promoters belonged rather to the order of the Universal Brotherhood of Man, than to any religious sect. But the. Friends here and elsewhere have always stood for universal liberty and peace. Naturally they were very ardent in the work of this peculiar institution, the underground railroad.

The mystery connected with the "underground railroad," the secrecy with which its business was conducted, the results of which were so farreaching and so novel, have ever lent a charm to the history of this wonder¬ ful system wihch had its beginning in the Southland and ended at the bound¬ aries of the King's domain; while the remarkable character of its dusky pass¬ engers, the story of their escape from bondage to freedom over this mysterious route, has added a touch of romance which strongly appeals to the imagination.

It has been impossible to trace to a definite beginning this unparalleled system - this unexplainable, mysterious corporation, organized without officers and without authority, in direct violation of the laws of both the Northern and the Southern states ; but we know that it grew and flourished in defiance of all restraining authority; that it spread over the North, rapidly gaining in power until it became a strong factor in the liberation of slaves, and only ended when the stroke of a mighty pen proclaimed the freedom of all the bondsmen within the limits of the United States.

It has been maintained by those actively engaged in the cause that the "underground railroad" had its origin in the slave states, and that a portion of the system lay south of the Mason and Dixon line. However that may be, it is certain that in the South there were those who sometimes assisted the fugitives to cross the line, hiding them in wagons, stowing them away in secret places on steamboats, or conducting them through the country at night, to the Ohio river. Once across the river the fugitives found friends who were willing to aid them on their way to Canada, - that "city of refuge" toward which these dusky forms stole their way through southern swamps, over mountains and through valleys, in the dark hours of the night, guided by the far-off glimmer of the north star, that headlight of the wonderful engine of the "underground railroad."

The danger to the life and property of those who aided in the escape of slaves was very great, both in the North and the South. In some of the southern states the penalty for stealing a negro was death, while a heavy fine was inflicted for feeding or harboring a runaway slave. In the North the penalty for aiding in their escape was severe. The law imposed both fine and imprisonment on the offender, and sometimes exacted the payment of the full value of the slave assisted to escape.

Many of those engaged in the work of the "underground railroad" were men and women of irreproachable moral and Christian character, and, al¬ though they were acting in direct violation of the laws of the country, they were actuated by a sincere conviction that they were obeying God's command "to feed the hungry and clothe the naked," for the operations of those in the

North seldom led them south of the Ohio river; their policy being to assist the fugitive after he had made his escape and not to persuade him to run away. In this they felt no condemnation of conscience. They were con¬ vinced that they were performing a heaven-appointed duty. They recognized a higher law than that made by man, and when the dictates of humanity con¬ flicted with the laws of the country, they ignored the law, and saw the hand of Providence in each success. They were appalled by no danger, although at all times they exercised the greatest precaution, both for their own and the sake of the helpless fugitives.

In Indiana the sympathy of a large majority of the people was not with the operators of the "underground railroad." In fact, the sentiment of a Jarge portion of the settlers was strongly against them. Even among those who disapproved of the slave system were many who opposed the methods used by those engaged in the work of the "underground railroad," and looked upon them as no better than thieves ; for, they maintained, it was worse to steal a negro than to steal a horse, for the reason that a negro was worth more than a horse.

The subject of the gradual emancipation of the slaves was agitated by many who held anti-slavery principles, and manumission societies were formed both in the North and the South - the first of the latter being at New Garden, North Carolina, which some liberal-minded slave-owners joined and advocated plans for gradual manumission. Meantime the "underground railroad" continued to spread over a large portion of the states north of the Ohio river, a number of branches passing through Indiana, and Westfield be¬ came an important station. In time, stations were established all along these routes, at distances of from ten to twenty miles apart, and a perfect under¬ standing was maintained between those who were engaged in the work. In the Reminiscences of Levi Coffin the author says : "The roads were always in running order, the connections good, the conductors active and zealous, and there was no lack of passengers. Seldom a week passed without our having received passengers over this mysterious road."

The business of the road was attended with heavy expense, which in¬ creased with the constantly increasing number of passengers. Ofttimes the fugitives reached the North almost destitute of clothing, and sick from want and exposure: for these, food and clothing must be provided, and they must be nursed back to health and the means for transportation secured before they could be forwarded on their way. The journeys were almost always made at night, often over almost impassable roads, along byways that were seldom traveled; every precaution to evade pursuit had to be used, for often hunters were on the track, sometimes ahead of them. Everything was done in the most secret manner, the whereabouts of the fugitives being known to as few persons as possible. Often slaves were concealed for days about the premises of a home unknown to neighbors and visitors, or even to a portion of the family.