Washington County, Indiana - Notable Incidents of Early Days, 1916 (part 2 of 3)

Details Of The Trade

The routes of each team owned by the merchant covered some forty or fifty towns, arranged so as to visit them all at regular intervals four times a year, arriving at headquarters twice a year, spring and fall, for inventory. There were the usual "bargain s^les" of goods out of style, shop-worn or tliat had been purchased for a song at some auction sale. The team manager kept up his stock by frequent orders to the nearest supply station. There were styles then, as now, in most everything and every effort was made to keep up with the varying changes that were constantly being made. Notices were sent to merchants of the date of intended arrival, the arrival being timed as near as weather and other conditions would permit. County roads were not all as good then as in these days of wheelmen and "good roads movements," and the delays, especially after spring and fall rains, were often tedious and vexatious. To be held at a cross-roads store, an enforced guest for a week or two where there was no hotel, with a menu consisting of hog and hominy, while the roads were blockaded by snowdrifts, or rendered impassable on account of mud, was a provoking experience, but not an uncommon one. Regular stopping places en route were usually arranged for, and the landlord nearly always took his pay in a box of cigars or other notions, so that when the charge for the keep of the team and men was deducted the bill of expense was not extravagant, after the profits were considered.

The amount of the sales to country merchants varied, seldom being less than twenty-five dollars, sometimes running into the hundreds. "Latest city styles" was a common catchword, for merchants always wanted to he up-to-date. When a progressive merchant ventured to set the style, his customers were always chary of making purchase until fully assured that it was the "correct thing." The wonder was then, not so much as now, how did the country folks manage to keep up so closely with their city cousins in adopting the new styles, for there were then no fashion magazines scattered broadcast over the country, as there are today. For many years the wholesale-notion wagon was indi.spensable. It filled an aching void that nothing else could or would then supply. But like everything else its days were numbered - a change in business methods put an end to the store-onwheels. The power of the locomotive proved too great for the team, and, usurping its field, stilled forever its musical rumble and the tinkling bells that swung in the glittering arch that stood above the harness of each prancing steed.

Prince Of Traveling Salesmen

For many years Samuel A. Patton, whose home was near Livonia, was the prince of traveling notions salesmen in all of Indiana. He began the business some time during the Civil War and operated the same up to 1876. Most of the time he had three wagons, which were drawn by four or six finely-matched horses, ec[uipped with silver-mounted harness. The wagons were large, bodies filled with drawers, and shelving, all painted, striped and decorated with pictures done in the very highest style of the art. Along the road these wagons were protected from mud and dust by neatly-fitting covers, which were removed as a stopping place was neared, and the outfit was rushed down the street, attracting the attention of everyone as it pulled up in front of the leading hotel, or halted at a store to drive a bargain. Mr. Patton bought his supplies mostly in New York, of first hands, and could compete successfully with most any wholesale house in the country. He bought some notions in Cincinnati when regular supplies ran short, and when he started in business there were but two wholesale establishments in that city that catered to the notion trade. He had distributing, or supply points, at Seymour, Indianapolis and Loogootee and his wagons covered nearly all the south half of the state, making their round trips ever\' two months, except in late winter or early spring, when men and teams had to be laid up on account of impassable roads. There were other traveling merchants on the road at the time. Wiley Elliott had one team, sometimes two, and most often four horses. His headquarters were at Saltillo, but he was forced out of business aWit the same time that Mr. Patton quit. He carried a stock of goods usually worth about three thousand dollars. Patton's wagons carried goods amounting to five and si.x thousand dollars. Tihe teams and wagon outfit cost, in each instance, about two thousand dollars, so as they journeyed about through the country they represented considerable capital. But progress and invention never stand still. They are continually infringing upon old customs and mapping out new methods which must be adopted, no matter who it ruins or whose profession or calling is sent to the wall. Together with stage-coach days, the flat-boat period and the small village manufacturer, the traveling peddler has been relegated to the past, and the country in which he once flourished as the green bay tree will know him no more forever.

The Fourth of July, if^26, is remarkable for much more than sim])ly being an anniversary of the nation's l)!rth. It was the passing of the fiftieth mile-stone of nur country's existence, and the people of Salem and surrounding countrv determined to observe the occasion with apjiropriate ceremony. This was long l>efore there was such a thing as news transmissiim bv means of electricity, so the occasion in Salem was not marred bv the sad news that the talented author and the brilliant defender of the Declaration of Independence were both dead, that Jefferson and Adams had immortalized the first jubilee of Colonial liljeration by their union in death. Great preparation for rendering appropriate honors to this occasion had been made by the people of Salem. A man of great legal ability, a superior classical scholar, and of commanding presence, had been selected as the fit orator for such a day, and although the rain pelted down in fitful showers all day long, there was an immense gathering of people present from all parts of the country. A procession was formed on the public square and led by a band of martial music. They moved up High street to the old Presbyterian church at the extreme north end of town, where 'the celebration was held. Then John H. Famum delivered one of the most logical and powerful orations ever pronoimced before an Indiana audience. But a portion of his address gave unpardonable ofTense to many present. He took a decidedly bold and intelligent stand in favor of free schools for both rich and poor, his position being far in advance of the politicians of the day. His opinions were bitterly assaulted and relentlessly condemned on evei-y hand, but he showed himself competent upon every occasion to meet his opponents with manly firmness and argument that was irrefutable. 'But he did not live to witness the triumph of the great truths and principles which he so ably enunciated and advocated, for he fell a victim of the cholera scourge that swept over Salem a few years afterward ; but many of his assailants did live to see the common-school system become popular and forever established.

An Incident Not On The Bills

Whilst tfte festivities of that rainy Fourth were in full blast, a lively episode, not down on the regular program, took place. A runaway couple, from Green county, Kentucky, riding a single horse, arrived in town. They were hotly pursued by the enraged father and furious brother of the fleeing girl. The public highway leading north from Salem then ran out High street, and just as the fleeing couple reached the church building where the celebration was being held, they were overtaken by their pursuers. The brutal father seized his trembling, helpless daughter and inflicted upon her several furious kicks and blows, nor did he desist until a stern "Hoo.sier" boy invited him in unmistakable tones to stop. Then father and son seized and bound the young man, and they all started back, followed by quite a crowd of men and boys. .\s they moved down the street the old man and snn heaped all the abuse their \ile linigues could command upon the heads of their victims, and with horrible oaths told the young man what his doom would be when they got him back to Kentucky. Reaching the public square they made a halt to get something to eat and drink. Stacy Cogswell, a well known and brave man, hearing of the trouble, determined to know by what authority the seizure was made, and confronting the elderly gentleman demanded him to show his legal authority for binding and carrying away the prisoner. They were told that kidnappers were severely punished in this state, and notwithstanding the threats made by the angry father and son, the prisoner was liberated and told to take his girl where he pleased. The capturing party was directed to trot a hasty retreat back across the river, which they did without further ceremony.

During the spring and summer of 1827 an eccentric preacher, who denominated himself a cosmopolite, traveled and preached extensively in various portions of Indiana. He was then nearly fifty years of age. The news had long been spread about that on a certain day the man who twenty-eight years before professed to lielieve that "he had a divine call to go preach to the Catholics of Ireland." who had twice visited Ireland and Kngland, who had introduced camp-meetings into England, who drew immense crowds vherever he went, the man who had gone through almost every state and territory in the American Union, and the man who had preached the first Protestant sermon within the limits of Alabama, was to preach in Salem. It was an immense outpouring of the people. Salem uj) to that date had never seen anything to equal it. Xo church - no court house was sufficientl\- capacious to contain one-tenth of the mass of eager, e.xcited hutnanit\- that had assembled to listen to the great Lorenzo Dow. Nothing but a widespread grove could recei\'e and accommodate this expectant multitude. Then. at the east end of Market street, from the top of the hill down to and beyond the creek was a magnificent grove, almost an unbroken forest. Just at the foot of the hill, and where the railroad now runs, the people for miles around gathered together and anxiously awaited the coming o{ the wonderful man. The messenger of leather girtlle and camel's hair did not produce greater excitement, or occasion more admiration. Then, almost every man kept his face cleanly sha\'ed, and the great preacher showed uji in striking contrast with the great majority of men of that day. lixactly at the aj)- pointed hour, unannounced and unattended, the strange man rushed amid the crowd and without any ceremony of introduction, began his work. Xo speaker's stand had l>een provided and he spoke from a slight elexated place on the hill side. Dow's whole face was unshaven, and his beard fell below his waist. His hair lay in long ringlets over his shoulders and down his back. His strongly cultivated controversial disposition gave his countenance, while speaking, quite a savage, warlike mien. His voice was deep and strong, often mingled with a peculiar harshness. He was a very blunt, enthusiastic speaker, at times, breaking forth in strains of bitterest satire and his manner and appearance were wholly unlike those of any other speaker. Sometimes he would stand erect, uttering the fiercest denunciations imaginable without the least motion or gesture, rhen again he would hop upon whatever elevation chanced to be near. Several times he sprang up among the boughs of small trees that stood near where he happened to be speaking. His talk, could not with propriety, be denominated a sermon. It was a coming-no-more, lengthy talk, abounding in scathing epithets, fancied dialogues, scenic pictures of the great Judgment Day and the unseen hereafter; dangers that threatened the great American republic through the instrumentality of Jesuitism, and in short almost everything that, with lightning speed, could flash through the erratic man's mind in the space of a three-hours' talk, and it seemed that he held his hearers almost spell-bound all that time. Not long before Dow's advent in Salem the author of the "New Purchase" had given him offense. This doomed Hall to a free passage, lengthwise, through D<iw's threshing machine. Pelting Hall very naturally led to a scurrilous tirade against all Calvinistic clergymen. Leaving these, he next made a furious (lash at atheism and deism. "With stentorian tones he summoned them to final trial and assigned them eternally far down in Tophet. Next he called up the poor L'uiversalists. These he belabored with the tilt-hammer of irony, the setting maul of satire and the cruel sword of driving sarcasm. Lastly, came the arraignment of the Jesuits. On these profuse vials of wrath were emptied. At this point his denunciation had a terrific pungency and startling bitterness almost indescribable. His final appeal was for a better. God-fearing people, a higher ideal of citizenship and a closer following in the footprints of the Master. Such was Lorenzo Dow's efifort in Salem. He held the attention of the people as if he had been one of the old prophets. His singular api>earance excited no levity and brought forth no adverse criticism.

Youthfil Trials Anij Tribulations

Mankind naturally Ijeconies philosophic when it starts down the shady side of life, and old people delight to live over in memory the days of childh<:)od and early youth. They remember very distinctly the pleasant associa- tions and innocent amusements, together with the innumerable achentures which dotted their pathway in early hfe; while on the other hand, they are prone to forget early trials and tribulations, denials and vexations of spirit which at the time rendered life a burden. A hundred years ago parents did not believe in "sparing the rod and spoiling the child." They usually had a whole houseful to care for. watch over and command. Strict discipline had to be maintained, otherwise there wouUl have been no living among a mob of obstreperous offspring. The \-iolation of a parental command was sure to end in chastisement of some sort commensurate with the offense committed. And the "school master'-' of early time was accorded the right and privilege of using the "birch" whenever occasion required its application, and there was hardly a day passed by that he did not have recourse to the rod in order that his authority might be respectefl and his dignit}- be maintained. So, taking all things together, the youth df the land had a rough road to travel, and no doubt the old i)eople of this age return of childhood's days more zealously, were it no recollections which come to them of the past that ar and which cannot be erased from the pages of niemc

In calling up some of these unjileasant memories stands in the mind's eye the old peach-tree at the gardei memory ever lingers, none the pleas;intest, howexer, and tree has long since decayed and crumbled into dust. \et in imaginatif)n, it seen with thrifty sprouts coming forth every spring around its ])ase, which "played" a very imjKirtant part in most \oungsters' earl\- training and bringing u]). The application of a limber peach-tree ^])rout was the most common punishment inflicted for disobedience or bad conduct. And to prolong suspense and allow the imagination to iiictiu-e more \i\i(ll\- the scene that was to follow, the refractory scion was usualh- subiccted to the painful necessity- of going out and selecting the twig himself with which he was to be punished. There's no doubt that he understood something .>f the applied principles of psychology, even at that earl\- ihw. for he usiiall\ lingered ;i long time on the way to get the sprout, knowing that the more time li the parental ire to subside the lighter would be the intliction endured \ few "hopefuls" of the present day have a proper conception of the bitter pangs experienced by the unf<iriunates who were coiu]ielled to t;ik(, doses of "peach-tree tea." Then there \ and foot and lashed to the bedpost wliei being considered adequate for the (H-casi..ii: or. sometimes. tlK\ would bt put to bed when iilent\- of time wmild .dwins be oi\eii for makm>>- capituhi' tioiis, or the exacting of good promises from the culprit. Most any kind of punishment was preferalile to that of ha\ing the privilege of circumlocution snsijended ; and although the suffering in the flesh was not so great as that of being stirred up hv means of a limljer twig, the anguish of mind was. almost unendurable. Proliabh the most dreaded of all tortures was the dark and dismal closet incarcerations, where the prisoner had to meet, in imagination, all sorts of raw-headed, bloody-Ironed and snaggle-toothed demons that infested the.se dark prison cells. Here it was that moments seemed almost ages, and it was not until the piercing shrieks and cries of lamentation became more unendurable than his benign presence around the family hearth and |)aternal fury hatl time to .subside, that the unfortunate individual was again brought forth, from darkness to light, rejoicing that 1-e still li\ed, moxed and had a being.

Hoy I.Ifk In Thk Wii.Dernk.Ss

There were nunierous petty grievances and perjjlexities to obstruct the pathway of early life in the wilderness that rendered life a burden. With onlv one pair of stubb)-, homemade shoes a year the boy had a difficult time in making himself resijectable li Hiking at least six months in the year, for early spring time found him with huge patches .across the toes of his shoes, and holes \\\ the patches, and it was no wonder that he went barefoot assoon as warm weather set in. The mother, who always seemed to be responsible for the children appearing in decent clothes, did her duty in most every mstance, but the father who looked after shoes antl hats too frequently came u|) short on sui)plies. 'llien every boy imagined he hatl a harder row tohoe than other boys of his ac(|uamtance ; he was never permitted to go swimming like other fellows: melons and ap])les never got ri])e enough for him to eat; his supply of ( hristnias tire-crackers was alwax's short; he had tn take the cows farther to ])asture than anyone else, and he was driven tolled sooner and whi]ipe<l out earlier th;ni an\ other mortal under the shining sun. Remembering all tins, and nincli more lieside, it isn't any wonder that when they grew up they entertanied few longings for the return of those "liap]i\ days of childhood;" but rather than live over again those days sofrought with heart-aches and sore \exations, would prefer to begin and end then- da\s as crnst\, grumlilmg, desiiised ;uid rejected hermits, going along life's pathway lonely and alone, cross o\er Jordan in a one-handed canoe, ;in.li.ir hi^ fr.iil li:irk m the slough of despond, wade ashore without any congratulatii'iis from nnnistering angels and silentlv take a back seat in the realm of eternal bliss, unnoticed and unnumbered, complacently gazing all the while upon the millions of angelic choristers that surround the great white throne.

The boy of the tweiiheth century knows very little about the trials and e.xperiences of the youths of a century agu. It is a question if the easy method of rearing and bringing up children practiced in the present day, is an improvement upon the stricter practices of the past. The jjresent age looks with condescending smile at the old-fashioned period in which the demands of authority and discipline controlled the education of the child. There has been substituted for it the demand for freedom with all its blessings, but instead of the blessings, too frecjuently they get all the vices. He Avho has never learned obedience can never become his own master and whoe\er is not his own master, through all his life, lacks the mental soundness and mental balance which a harmonious life demands. That the forms of strict discipline accomplished good results, we have evidence all about us. That it was carried to an extreme may not be gainsa\ed, Ijut lest we err in the opposite direction let us have a care. The strong mind may find its sound adjustment even without the training that comes through obedience and discipline, but the weak, waxering mind has to pay the penalt\', that of social disaster.

A very jjrominent man in the earl\- settlement of the county and in all public affairs, was Judge Enoch Parr, lie was born in North Carolina. November 27, 1785. His father and <,rrandfather were Ixith named Arthur, and both ser\ed in the Re\olution. Tlie grandfather was killed at the battle of Plillsboro, North Carolina, during that war. At the age of fourteen Enoch Parr had gone to school a sufficient length of time to master the "rule of three," when the teacher told him he could "learn him no more." He afterward secured a "Pikes" arithmetic an<l a geography and prided himself as being consideralile of a "scholar" by his own efforts. He was a wheelwright by trade, and in this way was always ai>le to earn considerable money for that day to support his family. When of age, he thought of marrying, but he was poor and had but little prospect to offer a partner. He considered the propriety of marrying into a wealthy family, and thus get a start, but soon found out that even in that earh' day it would take a long time to secure such a reputation as to admit him to the social scale where he desired. So he concKided to wait a while t>efore perfecting any matrimonial alliances.

Solomon Bowers and Jacob Copple had been west on a tour of inspection in 1807 and decided to locate in Indiana Territory. Enoch was then twenty-two years old and decided to join them. Copple fixed up a wagon for his family, but Bowers and his wife, with a couple of pack horses, and Parr came through on horseback. They left North Carolina. March 29, 1808, and arrived in Clark county, Indiana, April 16. When Parr got here he had a horse and seven dollars and fifty cents in cash. One-half of this amount he paid out for corn for his horse, and with the balance he rented a piece of land whereon to raise some corn for the next winter. He hired to Jesse Lindly, at ten dollars a month, nine dollars of which he put away to buy land. On the 8th of August, 1808, he got a school at eight dollars per month, and it lasted three months. During this time his horse wandered into the range and he gave him up as lost. That fall Adam Bowers came out and brought him fifty dollars which had been owing him in the Old

North State. He also brought news that his father. Arthur, had sold his jwssessions for one thousand dollars and would come west in the fall of -809. Enoch's father had offered him two hundred acres of land if he would remain with him in North Carolina, to induce him to remain there, but as tne land was rough and poor he concluded he would rather chance it out west, and now the father was to follow him. T.ate in the fall of 1808, young Parr entered a section of land in Clark county, but the next spring he sold his right for twenty dollars advance, and then spent thirty-five days in the wilderness searching for a new location, finally entering the quarter section upon which he lived and died.

His father, Arthur Parr, and all his children, came west in the fall of 1809, and settled in the same neighborhood. During the season of 1809 Enoch cleared up five acres of land, built a cabin and prepared for housekeeping. He planted the five acres of land he had cleared to corn, and in the fall went back to North Carolina to collect some debts that were owing to his father. He returned home on June 11, 181 1. His father now gave him two hundred and twenty-five dollars, with which he "paid up for his land and bought some tolerably neat clothes." Parr said that for the first time in his life he realized the old adage, "That when a man is able to help himself, then he has friends," and that "when in need of friends, he may help himself." He concluded he wanted one Nancy Carr, and in due course of time he won her hand and heart and they were married on August 20. 1812.

Enoch Parr was always an active politician, and in 1814 was appointed justice of the peace, which office he held till 181 7. His father, ,\rthur Parr, was elected a justice about 1820 and served until 1827. In 1828 Enoch was elected justice and served up to 1832. In 1834 he was a candidate for judge, to which office he was elected and served until 1838, when he was re-elected for seven years. In 1847 he was re-elected as associate judge' of the Washington circuit court, and held the office until his death, which occurred on July 24, 1851. aged si.Kty-five years. By his first wife he had se\-en children, six boys and one girl, nanielv : Malinda, Samuel, Thomas. David, John, Morgan and I'llisha. Hy his second wife, whu was Ruth Lindley, six girls and a lioy ; Hannah, Xancy, Sarah, Rel)ecca, Susan, Ruth. .Vnna and Enoch.

Arthur Parr saw much service as a Revolutionary soldier, and endured many hardships. The following declaration made under oatli, in order to obtain the benefits of an act of Congress, gives a brief resunii? of his .services: court, before the judges of said court now sitting, Arthur Parr, a resident of the said county of Washington, and State of- Indiana, aforesaid, seventyfour years old, who being duly sworn, doth on his oath make the following declaration, in order to obtain the benefit of the act of Congress, passed June 7, 1832 :

" 'According to my best information, I was born on July 5, 1758, in that part of the state of North Carolina that was then or shortly afterward known as Guilford county, where I continued until I was somewhere about ten or twelve years of age, when I went with my mother into the state of South Carolina, my father being dead. I remained there until the ist of March, 1776. Then in the defeat of Fairfield, I was drafted and entered the service of the Revolutionary War, under Capt. Thomas Woodward, in a single company, and marched to Charleston, where I was stationed under different higher officers, until after the battle of Sullivan's Island, commanded by Colonel Moultrie, which I was in full view of. but not immediately engaged in.

" T entered the service as a volunteer, and was ordered out against the Cherokee Indians, under Capt. Joseph Hancock, under Colonel Beard, who was under General Williamson, and marched into the Indian country. Was in one small battle with the Indians, whom we beat, and after the battle we cut down their corn and destroyed it. I was then continued on the Indian frontier until March, 1777, when we were discharged at Lindley's or I'.lason's fort, I do not recall which. In the spring of 1777, I entered the service, a volunteer, under Capt. Joseph Kirkland. and Major Goodwin, under Col. John Winn, under General Williamson, and went into Florida, in the campaign commonly called the Augusta campaign. When we returned I was continued in the service, variously stationed on the Savannah river, our headquarters being at Petersburg, until the fall or early in the winter of 1778. I went to Charleston, as a volunteer, and continued there and in the vicinity until the fall of the year, when we went again to Petersburg, when we were discharged.

" 'In the spring of 1779, I entered the service, a volunteer, under Joseph Kirkland, and was employed, under General Huger, in destroying the road from Savannah to Charleston. In June we were under General Lincoln near the mouth of Stone creek, and were in the battle commonly called the Stone battle, between Charleston and Savannah. I then entered the horse service, under a captain whose name I have forgotten, under Gen. Count Pulaski, and in that situation I was in the siege of Savannah. Farly in the year 1780 I went as a volunteer, with Captain Kirkland, who was then made colonel, and Benj. May, captain, and 1 continued there until a fewdays before Charleston was invested by the British. I was then sent under Colonel Kirkland to Orangeburg, and there continued until shortly after Charleston was taken. We also surrendered by capitulation, and were paroled. After we were paroled, the British aggressions and violations of the terms of capitulation caused many of us to take up arms and I was obliged to flee to North Carolina, and when General Gates' army passed through that state, I followed after, and joined the army the day before the memorable Gates defeat. I was under Colonel Portertield, w^ho was killed in the battle, which was my last essay under arms.

" 'The above are some of the particulars of my serxice in the Revolutionary War, as near as my recollection serves me at this time. It is likely I may be mistaken in some things, particularly the dates, but one thing I am sure of and that is I was in all employed upwards of three years in the service of the United -States, particularly the state of South Carolina, ni tfiis struggle for independence, a great part of which I was Serg. Comt.

It is seen from the above that the service rendered by Arthur Parr was before that part of the Revolutionary War set forth in Lee's "History of the Southern Wars." There is a passage mentioned in the "Life of Marion," by Henry, concerning Sergeants Jasper and Newton rescuing certain American prisoners, among whom was a Mrs. Jones, and conducting the British prisoners to Petersburg. Parr was at Petersl)urg when the two sergeants came in with the prisoners. After the surrender of ( harleston and Orangeburg, the liberty soldiers considered themselves con()uered, Init there were a few organized parties here and there that continued to worry the Tories and British whenever an opportunity presented itself.

Colonel Winn went to a Tory camp and agreed to join them on a certain evening, with such of his old soldiers as he could prevail upon accompanying him. There was about three hundred of the King's loyal subjects in the camp. Colonel Winn rallied aliout sixty of his old command of rebels and former prisoners, and sallied out under the pretense of friends to join their old foes. Arriving at the Tory camp everything was ready to receive them with open arms. The Tories were lined up on one side of the camp, and Colonel Winn and his men marched down in front of them. .\t a signal Colonel Winn's men rushed upon the Tories, very few of whom were armed, and in a few minutes dispersed them without loss to the patriots, and with great loss to their foes. Parr said he thought e\eryone of them gi>t his man. The patriots then burned up the camp, but they had to get out of the country as quickly as possible. It so hapi>ened that one young man of the party was caught by the British, who extorted a confession from him as to who was concerned in the skirmish, and then they hung him. There being no place near where he could go for safety, Parr went to North Carolina and took up his residence with James Morgan, a stanch patriot, who had a daughter named Polly, whom Parr afterward married.

When the British, under Cornwallis, marched down through that country, the poor dismayed liberty men had to keep concealed, as the Tories had them all spotted, and if they were captured they were usually marched out and shot without ceremony. To keep out of the British clutches they had to keep concealed, "lay wet," as it was called, and sometimes nearly starve, until the King's forces had departed. Parr could not talk about the British without working himself up into a frenzy, for he said he hated a Britisher worse than an Indian.

Upon one occasion a half dozen lil>erty men knew of a lot of Tories who were on their way home from some command that had been released for a time, and' they decided to capture them. They were to come by way of a narrow pass between a high cliff and Broad river, and here they decided to hem them in and make them prisoners. The six liberty men, of whom Parr was one, divided, three of them stationing themselves at either end of the narrow pass. As soon as the Tories turned up the river along the cliff, the lil>erty men closed in on them, and it being dark, the Tories could not discover the number l)efore nor 1)ehind them, and as each patriot made as much n(jise as a half dozen men. the Tories thought they were overpowered and surrendered at once. It was then agreed that three from below and three from above should go along and take the Tories' horses and guns. There turned out to be twenty-four Tories, and when they had been disarmed they were ordered up the hill where they were bound and secured, after which, to their mortification, they found out that the whole twentvfour of the King's loyal subjects had been captured by six rebels.

.\rthur Parr died on March 21, 1833. on the place where he first settled, and his wife a few years afterwards in Clark county, at the residence of her son, Morgan Parr.

/\ lengthy history of the Parr family was written out by Judge Enoch Parr and was for a long time preserved by his descendants. In 1848 he wrote as follows : "The war is now over, and peace has been made with ?ilexico. Upper California and New Mexico are added to the United States, and Texas is freed from invasion and its independence as a state of the

Union permanently established. The territory of the United States now from the Atlantic to the Pacific oceans, and if our government continues to prosper we will have room for hundreds of millions of people in years to come. It is the l^est government in the world to make men happy, and I think I can congratulate myself a little for it. My grandfather and father fought in the Revolution for independence, the former laying down his life in the cause. I assisted in the War of 1812. My three son^ were in the Mexican War. and althoiigh two of them lost their lives in that war, I have the consolation to believe that they were engaged in securing the means of making millions happy that are yet unlx)rn, and that may never hear their names. And although there were vast numl)ers of men in the States that exclaimed against the Revolutionary War as unjust and impolitic; and also against the War of 1812: and also the late war, yet I have the further consolation to believe that the present democratic form of government will go on. improve and prosper, until, with the blessing of God, it has silenced all its gainsayers. In after years any one perusing these memoirs will easily perceive that I am a Democrat, which I am proud to say, ha\e been for about forty years - ever since the canvass previous to Jefferson's first election, a canvass in which my father took a warm part, and I then imbibed all the feeling of my father, and am still, and ever expect to be an advocate for a democratic government. The simpler the government, the Ijetter for the mass of the people. Let e\ery one get his living by honest industry, and 'do as he would be done by.' and be subject to the constitutional powers that be - and all will be well."

In 1842 Col. Richard M. Johnston, who had been N'ice-President of the United States, paid a visit to Salem, and it was an occasion that is still remembered by some of the oldest citizens. Colonel Johnson was elected to the Vice-Presidency in 1832 on the ticket with General Jackson. He it was who gained renown as the man who killed the celebrated Indian chief, Tecumseh. Colonel Johnson had been invited to attend some political demonstrations that were to come off at New Albany and Charlestown, and the citizens of Washington extended him an invitation to visit Salem, which he accepted. Committees on barbecue, music, si>eaking and parade were appointed, and every one, irrespective of party, got bu.sy to make the reception for the old Indian fighter a grand one. Col. E. D. Logan, then in his prime, was made chief marshal. The Clarke countv committee escorted Colonel

Johnson to the top of the knobs, where the committee from Salem met him at Reuben Lucas's. The reception committee consisted of Hugh McPheeters and Townsend Cutshaw. At Lucas's a splendid dinner was partaken of.

Maj. Eli W. Malotte had sent his barouche and team, with his son, Herman, for driver. This was the only stylish rig in the town at the time and of course made quite a show when out on the street. The old colonel flattered his driver and gave unto him the nickname of "Boenerges," by which appellation he was ever afterwards known. They reached Judge Enoch Parr's, on the east side of Canton, in time for supper, where they remained over night. The next day, Thursday, July 7, 1842, bright and early, the people in the county began to pour into town. They came on foot, on horseback, in wagons, singly and in processi.ons. A procession was formed with bands of music and banners flying, which extended more than half way to Canton, to escort the illustrious visitor to Salem. Such another pageant has, in all probability, never been witnessed in Salem. Upon arriving at the public square, the procession halted in front of the hotel on the northea'^t corner of the square, where the reception si^eech was made by Dr. Elijah Newland. In the course of his remarks he referred to Colonel Johnson as the man who had killed Tecumseh at the battle of the Thames. In his response Colonel Johnson took occasion to say: "I have never said that I killed Tecumseh. I shot at an Indian and saw him fall, but before I could see who it was, or distinguish his dress, the confusion and smoke was such that it was impossible to say that it was Tecumseh, although the mighty chief lay on the spot where others of his tribe were killed."

This was the language of Colonel Johnson, and although there has been much discussion as to who killed this Indian chief, the truth was that no one knew positively who sent the deadly missile that ended his warfare.

The barbecue was held west of Salem, at the forks of the road in a fine beech grove. About ten o'clock the procession moved out to the grounds. Colonel Johnson's equipage was drawn by four white horses. The barbecue was an immense afi^air. A pit twenty-five feet long, eight feet wide and four feet deep had been excavated. This was filled with logs and when the heap was a huge mass of coals, l:>eeves. hogs and poultry were suspended above on poles, where they were roasted by experts who kept turning the meat round and round so as to secure an even roasting; the meat being salted and peppered as it was cut up to be served. There was served a corn pone, about three feet in diameter and over a foot thick, which was pronounced delicious, Ijut how it was made and what the name of the maker was is now forgotten.

Colonel Johnson made the speech of the day, followed by a number of impromptu ..alks by Indian fighters of that day. The Colonel's younger days had been spent on the frontier, and the hardships of pioneer life were dwelt upon at considerable length. Among other things he told how his mother had upon one occasion concealed him in a "water hole" while she ran bullets for the men who were having a fight with "Injuns." Ever after, when Salem had a big day celebration, political or otherwise, it was for decades remarked that those occasions were nothing in comparison with the great outpouring of the people at Colonel Johnson's barbecue.

John L. Menaugh

Away back in the dim aistance of more than one hundred years, in the days when canals, railroads, steamboats and telegraphs were not ; when it was no disgrace to pull flax or reap the golden grain ; when it was no dishonor to spin, weave, make up and wear jeans and linsey; when the young man could wear a red hunting shirt, buckskin breeches, coon skin cap and go to "meetin' " barefoot; when this country was almost an unbroken wilderness, and the savage red man roamed at will over hill and down dale, a bold and hardy class of people were turning their facts to this part of southern Indiana, and were striving to clear "up lands, build some rustic log cabins and make for themselves homes and happiness. But for a long time every day was one of peril, for the Indian was on their trail, committing depredations, stealing their horses, killing and scalping men and women, and doing everything in their power to prevent them from settling up the country. The brave, hardy settler was compelled to be on his guard constantly to iirotect himself from surprise and his family from annihilation.

The spirit of adventure coupled with the desire to better their conditions in life and assist in building up the country, lured two young A'irginians from their homes. Thomas Menaugh was one, Xathan Hensley was the other. Menaugh served seven years' apprenticeship at the hatter's trade in Virginia, after which he gradually worked his w ay to BJoomfield, Kentucky, where, in 1806, he married Elizabeth ("Betsy") Lemon. .After his marriage he went to Taylorsville, Kentucky, where he found the companion of his youth, Nathan Hensley, who had married Mary ("Polly") King. The two families decided that the northwest territory offered better opportunities to aspiring young people than Kentucky, so they joined their forces and started for the new country. On the 5th of April, 1809, about ten o'clock in the morning, they found themselves standing on the bank of the Ohio river,

They, with all their worldly possesions, had been set across the river in a rudely built ferry boat, manned by two stalwart darkies as oarsmen. They hardly knew which way to go, as they were wholly unacquainted with the country that now lay before them and knew not a living soul in this new land. They were greeted, not by the delusive voice and persuasive manners of the land agent or friends who had gone on before, but by the howl of the wolf and the soul-piercing cry of the panther. They came where the elk tossed aloft his gigantic antlers, where bear were met in every dense woodland, and where as yet the savage red man prowled about thirsting for the blood of whites regardless of age or sex. The first settlers followed agriculture almost exclusively, and these two families, after consulting with the ferryman, concluded to go on to the frontier settlements and find locations. In each family there was a small boy, about two years old, whose names were respectively "Johnny" and "Jimmie." They were carried in a bag thrown across a pony, a boy in each end, with their heads protruding and nearly touching each other just across the pack saddle. The women, each with a babe in arms, also rode ponies, while the men with guns walked on in front.

The first night out they camped on Silver creek, where there was a small settlement called "Drummonds," in honor of a man who had located there two years previously, and who was able to afford a cabin with two rooms mstead of one. The next morning they partook of a not too frugal meal and prepared to continue their journey, but'Drurtmiond put in an appearance, and offered to furnish work for one of the families, having a sort of pole cabin on his place where they could find lodgment. Not having a great amount of surplus cash to enter and open up a new home, Hensley decided to remain for a time with Drummond, and after the usual "goodbyes." Menaugh pursued his travels, being advised to steer his way to Royse's Lick, some forty miles back in the wilderness. There was then a trail up through the knobs that could be followed without much trouble, arriving at the "Licit" the second day out, in section 15, township 2, range 3, Menaugh found i few scattered settlers around the "Lick," who assisted him in selecting a location as well as in the labor of building a cabin, and he was soon comfortably housed, and busy clearing up a patch of land for corn and vegetables for next winter's supply.

The only dishes they had in their new home were made of oewter, and an iron pot, skillet for baking bread and frying pan were their only cooking

Utensils. Their neighbors were Lewis Woody, Samuel Lindley, Zachariah Nixon, Andrew Pitts, Godlove Kamp, Jesse Spurgin and Colonel Dawalt, all of whom had located there the year previous. The family left at Drunimond came out in the fall and found a home adjoining Menaugh. Their two boys became greatly attached to each other, and would he together at one or the others' cabin and in each other's compan) constantly.

At this time there were several small villages of Delaware Indians scattered over the county. "Old Ox" was the chief of the tril>e, and spent his time mostly between the "Lick" and the village they had down in Gibson township. Sometimes he would visit their trading posts at Pigeon Roost and Springfield in Clark county. A branch of the Muscatatuck river bears the name of "Ox's Fork" in honor of the old chief. He was quite old and died about 1811, and was succeeded by his eldest son, who had at his birth the euphonious appellation of "Tow Head" bestowed upon him, why no one ever knew, as his hair was as long, black and greasy as any other brave. Thp Indian maiden, who nursed the trapper, McCulough, when in 1803, he broke a leg and was cared for by the Ox family, and who McCulough afterwards married, and settled down with the tribe, was a sister of "Tow Head." McCulough had by his squaw wife a son about the same age as the two boys spoken of and his name was "Sammy." The two white boys and this half-breed were boon companions, and when it was possible for them to be together they were engaged in their plays, fashioned after the employment of their elders.

Old Mrs. "Ox" was still at the "Lick" most of her time and quite frequently took Sammy over to see Johnny and Jimmy. She was going over to the Indian village in Gibson township, for a day or two and she insisted that the mothers of the two white boys allow them to go along with her and Sammy, promising that she would bring them back the following day before the sun got "below the tops of the trees." \\'ith some misgi\ings the mothers consented, desiring to be on good terms with the Indians, thus showing they had confidence in the old squaw, which they no doubt had or they would never have thought of allowing her to ha^-e taken the children awa\- over night. On the evening of the next day the sun dropped below the tree tups, but Mrs. Ox came not, neither did the boys.

The parents began upbraiding each other for being so foolish as to allow an Indian to carry off their children in open daylight, but thev reasoned that they might have started home and had fallen into the hands of marauding Indians, or might have become lost and were wandering in the forest, and might show up some time during the night. Morning came and no children. There had been no sleep for the careworn mothers during the night, and with the coming of the early dawn thej' desired to push out on the trail and learn something of the whereabouts of the boys. Going to the Indian wickiups at the "Lick" it was found that they had all been deserted, whereupon the settlement became very much excited and knew the children had been carried away. Col. Henry Dawalt soon had a company of twelve men started in pursuit, all mounted. Nathan Hensley also organized a small company to go on foot in a different direction from that taken by the troopers.

It was ascertained that for some time previous to the carrying away of the two white boys, they had planned to swoop down on the settlement, capture their horses, burn their homes and kill as many of them as possible, then take refuge among the tribes farther west. There had been a council called by Chief "Tow Head"' at which other tribes were represented, all bent upon annihilating the whites if possible. Mrs. Ox, with the children, went quickly to their village on the Muscatatuck and that night the braves -were to make their raid upon the whites. But for some reason they concloded not to burn and kill, but to take all the horses they could find. Horses, when not in use, in those days were usually belled and turned lopse tp range as they liked. It was thus a very easy matter for them to secure all the horses they wanted and after doing so they were to collect at the mouth of the Muscatatuck, where they were to wait for the squaws and old men of the tribe, together with the children.

McCulough, "Tow Head" and Mrs. "Ox" were to conduct them, with the two white boys to the point of rendevous. Old Mother "Ox" performed her part rather reluctantly, as she was not at heart a bad woman, and felt kindly toward the white mothers who had always been kind to her, but the chiefs' orders had to l>e obeyed and she carried out the part assigned her very successfully, as was developed.

I^^arly in the morning of the second day, when the children were to have been returned to their mothers, they mounted their cayuses, "Tow Head" taking Johnny; McCulough, Jimmy, and Old Mother "Ox" took Sammy, and started to meet the braves, who had been out that night on a thieving exjiedition. They rode as rapidly as they could through the woods and swamps, but the day was far spent when they reached the meeting point. This was about the time the two mothers at the "Lick" were peering out to see if their little ones were coming, as Mother "Ox" had promised. Little thought they that the idols of their afifections were then twenty miles away, in the clutches of retreating savages. The thieving red-skins were at the river ready to cross over, when the fugitives with the children arrived, and they spared httle time in putting the river between themselves and their pursuers, for they knew the settlers would soon be hot on their trail.

They crossed the rivtr in canoes, swimming their horses. The canoes were then turned loose to float down the river out of reach of the whites. They then traveled several days towards the Wabash , country, where they knew they would be safe. The third day out they rightly concluded that the whites would never overtake them, and being very much tired out, "Tow Head" ordered the party to halt, for rest and a good meal. They also prepared for a good night's rest. Johnny and Jimmy, never dreaming that they were in anything but safe hands, were wrapped up in a blanket and laid by the side of a fallen tree, with a dry leaf bed to make them as comfortable as possible. Indians always slept very soundly, especially when they had no reason to fear a surprise or attack. This party no doubt were in very deep slumber, for during the night, the fire in some manner commimicated to the old log beside which the two boys lay, and before any one was awakened one of them was so badly burned that he was on the following morning, butchered and scalped and left on the spot unburied, some leaves and brush being throwTi upon the remains, to hide it from view for the time being.

Colonel Dawalt and his scouts went first to the old Indian village on the Muscatatuck, which they found deserted. They took the trail and followed it to the mouth of the Aluscatatuck. when night overtook them and they went into camp. The infantry got as far out on \\'alnut Ridge as George Housh's where they stopped for the night. The next morning they pushed on to the river and down to the camp where Dawalt and his men were found, undecided as to what course they had best pursue. They had no easy means to get across the river and the country was known to be full of warlike savages. After sometime spent in consultation, knowing that the Indians had a day's start of them and would make good use of their time, they decided it was not advisable or safe to go farther and all started home, to carry the story of their fruitless pursuit to the broken-hearted mothers, who fain would have gone in quest of their loved ones if there had been the slightest hopes of reclaiming them. They could not think for a moment that the two innocents had been the victims of the Indians tomahawks and lived from day to day vainly hoping that some good streak of fortune might bring them back again.

The time drifted by until after the battle of Tippecanoe, in 181 1, and all those who had fought under General Harrison had been discharged and returned to their homes. Some one learned that among the prisoners cap- tured and brought into Fort Vincennes there was a white boy who could not give a very accurate account of himself. Like a drowning man catching at straws, the two mothers who uad lost their boys two years before imagined this little fellow was theirs. The boy was being retained at the fort for identification. A rider was despatched forthwith who took tht Ad Indian trail from Cincinnati to St. Louis, which passed through the northern part of this county, between Plattsburgh and Millport. After four days' hard travel he reached Vincennes and found the boy. From what the little fellow could relate it was certain that he was one of the two that was stolen, but he could not tell his name. Upon making inquiry of the boy as to what had become of his playmate, the little fellow could only tell that the Indians had killed him. Some adult white prisoners had been ransomed at Vincennes and had given the particulars as they had learned them.

The scout returned home with Johnny or Jimmy behind him, he did not know which, and journeyed back to the "Lick." As might be supposed there was rejoicing over the finding of the boy, but grief over the one that had been lost. Both mothers claimed the boy as her's, and each found marks upon his person which were proof that her claim was indisputable. To put the much-mooted question at rest among all . interested parties it was finally agreed that Andrew Pitts, Samuel Hicks and Col. Henry Dawalt should be appointed a committee to decide as to who was the mother of the boy. They did not proceed with their task like one of old; by ordering the child to be cut in halves, and one half given to each claimant, although that instantly revealed the true mother ; but they went to work very earnestly and seriously, feeling the great responsibility resting upon them. They heard each mother's claim to the boy and what he knew in a misty way, compared complexions and mannerisms as thoroughly as possible, but strange to say, this committee failed to agree on a verdict.

Colonel Dawalt felt certain that the boy belonged to "Betsy" Menaugh; Samuel Hicks was just as positive that "Polly" Hensley was the mother of the child; while Andrew Pitts was undecided, and was not sure but what it was the half-breed Sammy. The jury so rendered their verdict, whereupon it was suggested that Lewis Woody should be called in to settle the matter. He had heard the evidence, and being a little doubtful in his own mind as to which claimant should have the boy, suggested to the committee that they report "that the disputed child was of right 'Betsy's,' but as there was some doubt about it, they would award him to both, let them keep him month about, and the one who outlived the other was to become the mother in fact and name." In this decision the mothers agreed and the boy continued to live, first with one and then with the other, for severai years. Not knowing whether to call him Johnny or Jimmy, he was nicknamed "Ox," which title he bore as long as he lived. Some six years after "Polly" Hensley was working out in her truck patch, when she was strMck by a large rattlesnake, which resulted in her death. Whereupon, as per agreement, "Betsy" assumed full authority over the young man. He had alternately been called John and James, but now his name was John, and he developed into a strong, healthy, vigorous man in body and mind and became very prominent in county and community affairs.

John L. Menaugh, although never being absolutely certain as to hi; identity, felt reasonably sure that by an intervention of Providence he had rightly drifted into the Menaugh family. He was a hatter by trade, first opening up a shop at New Philadelphia, after which for a number of years he carried on a shop in Salem. He was deputy sheriff under John McMahon, in 1842, and was elected to the office in 1844 and again in 1846. In

1850 he was elected county treasurer and again in 185J and 1854. In i860 he served as county treasurer by appointment and was elected to the same position in 1862 and 1864, making about eleven years' service as treasurer of the county. In 1867 he was appointed postmaster by Andrew Johnson, which position he held until i86q. In 1830 he was deputy marshal to take the census of the county and in i860 he was again appointed as census taker. In 1864 he was a delegate to the National Democratic convention at Chicago which nominated Gen. George B. McClelland. In politics he was always a Democrat of the old Jackson type. ' He made several trips down the Mississippi as supercargo on flatboats, trading along the way. For a number of years he was cashier of the Bank of Salem. He was a devout Mason at a time when to be a Mason tried a man's soul. He died on June 15, 1879, the oldest resident of Salem at that time.

Gen. Marsto.N G, Clarke

No man figured more prominently in the development of Washington county than did Gen. Marston G. Clarke, whose name was as familiar throughout Indiana in early times as that of George Washington or Andrew Jackson. He was a man of strong native intellect, a bold and independent thinker, with limited education in science and literature. He was a man of large size, strong physical powers and a commanding appearance: passionate and violent in his feelings when angry, and blunt in his manners.

like most of the early pioneers of the West. He was patriotic and brave even to rashness, honorable, generous and honest in all the relations of life. In religion he conformed to no established creed or system of faith, but believed in doing right and extending a helping hand to his fellow men when necessary. He had much to do with Indians and knew them like a book, and he always contended that they were more happy and honest in worshipping the Great Spirit in their native forests than they were under the teachings and influence of Christian missionaries. He was a cousin to Gen. George Rogers Clark, the great warrior, explorer and savior of all our country northwest of the Ohio river.

Marston G. Clarke was born in Lunenburg county, Virginia, December 12, 1 77 1. He was one of a family of twenty-nine brothers and three sisters. His father and grandfather were both named Benjamin, his greatgrandfather, Thomas, who came from England at a very early day and assisted in establishing Jamestown. Thomas' wife, Elizabeth, was a celebrated doctor of that day, and is said to have cultivated the first ground to the amount of ten acres ever tended in America. Marston G. made his first trip west in the year 1790, making his headquarters with his uncle, Greorge Rogers, at the old town of Clarksville, most of his time being employed in dealing with tiie Indians and scouting through the country. He made two or three trips back to Virginia, and on one of these he was married to Lucy Green Harper, March 31, 1797. Her father's name was Janus, a nephew of John Harper, who settled Harper's Ferry, and operated the first feny at that point. Her great-grandmother, the wife of Wm. Harper, died in Virginia, in 1803, at the advanced age of one hundred and thirty years. She and her husband were sold for their passage from Ireland to this country, about 1673. ^'^^ rai.sed seventeen children, and just before she died got out of bed and called for her spinning wheel aivi pipe, and died while she was spinning and with her pipe in her mouth.

On the 1st of May after his marriage Mr. Clarke started for Kentucky to locate a home. In June, 1798, he returned to Virginia for his wife and on the 27th of December, following, they arrived at Louisville. The tri]3 at this season of the year was a long and arduous one. If there had not been several parties in the train they would hardly have made the journey successfully. At this time there was but one brick house and scarcely a dozen log cabins in Louisville. They lived here two years, one year opposite Six Mile island, where Clarke bought a place of Thos. Bullitt and started a ferry, running from the mouth of Bear Grass to where Jef- tersonville now stands. The boat was roughl}- constructed out of hewn timbers, and manned by four stalwart darkies, Mr. Clark handling the steering, oar. The craft was about thirty feet long and by crowding a little a four-horse team and wagon could be carried across the river at une trip. In 1800, at the request of General Harrison they removed to this side of the river, where they made their headquarters for twelve years.

Clarke was frequently away from home on scouting trips, when warlike savages threatened the settlement. Upon one occasion while he was away Mrs. Clarke fpurid her cabin surrounded b\- thirt)- drunken Indians. She put out the fire, barred the door and went to bed with three children. The ravages circled around the cabin a few times and then began to beat the door down with clubs, when their chief told them he knew their "brother" was jiot at home or he would come out and if they didn't quit he would hew them all down with his hatchet; whereupon they left without doing any damage.

l^'rom the time Clarke first came west in 1790, up to the date when the Indians were finally driven out of the country, he was almost constantly engaged in some sort of Indian warfare, if there was trouble anywhere in the country. He was with General Wayne in his campaign and in that war became an expert Indian fighter and scout. In 181 1 he volunteered to fight the Indians who were then devastating the frontiers, and General Harrison appointed him upon his staff as brigade major. Clarke and Waller Ta\lor were the two men who selected the spot where the famous battle of Tippecanoe was fought. Isaac Naylor, who was a participant in that battle, used to relate of General Clarke, that when 'the action was the fiercest, when many soldiers were falling on e\'ery hand, when the hearts of the bravest of the brave were almost ready to give up in despair, when the tomahawk <md scalping knife and rifle of the savage foe were being brandished on almost every side of them - that General Clarke rode along the lines, rallying his men, and that his voice of conmiand rang out over all the noise of the battle in thunder tones ; that he fought like a demon, knowing no fear, and that by his intrepid bravery and spirited conduct upon the battlefield, the tide was turned against the savages ; that liullets flew about him thick as hail, but he was wliolly obli\ious to their presence and came out unscathed.

General Harrison complimented General Clarke \ery highly for the part he performed in the battle, and at one time paid him a visit at his home in Salem. Although Congress come time after imdertook to cast a slur upon General Harrison for allowing himself to be entrapped, as they termed it, in the selection of the battleground, yet some of the best military men of past generations have said that no better selection could have been made in that vicinity for a battleground.

In 181 2 General Clarke was a candidate for the othce ot coionel of militia in Clark county where he then resided. In addressing the voters of the regiment at Charlestown he said: "If you elect me your colonel, I will be as despotic as the Bey of Algiers." He was elected, but soon after, in the spring of 1813, moved to Washington county. He first located on a farm in Howard township, known as the Tom Voyles place, but moved to Brewers Fort in the spring of 1814, and took a very active part in locating the county seat and mapping out the town.

When General Clarke started out upon any of his Indian hunts his wife always saw that he had plenty of bullets moulded and powder-horn filled, and saddle-bags filled with provisions ; she would tell him never to come back until he had captured or killed every redskin in the country. While living in Howard township he owned a fine gray mare that could not be caught when out on range unless hemmed in in some way with other animals. He tried one day to catch the horse to go to Beck's mill on some important business, but after running himself down had to give it up as a bad job. He then very deliberately went back to the house, got his rifle and shot her dead, declaring that he was not always going to be annoyed by the brute in such fashion.

Clarke and Beck were out fox hunting once together, and after 3 '^ng chase the hounds ran their game into a cave. While they were trying to get the fox out, their dogs got into a fight. Clarke seized Beck's dog and jerked him loose and in doing so the dog bit him on the hand. Clarke was for fighting Beck then and there, but Beck laughed him out of it. After binding up his hand as best they could with ix)wder and leaves, and Clarke had cooled off, he turned to Beck and said : "George, let's go home, this is all foolishness."

Soon after the war of 1812, Clarke became surety upon the bond of a friend who had been appointed collector of revenue. The fellow became p. defaulter and judgment was rendered against Clarke and other sureties on the bond. All his property was levied on and sold bv the authorities, even to his sword and rifle which he had carried in defense of the early settlers and in battling against savages. The sword he had received from his father who had wielded it in the Revolution, and it grieved him sorelv to give it up. However, some friends purchased it and ga\e it back to him and his home was bought in and he was allowed to redeem it for a small sum, and he was thus saved from pecuniary ruin.

When General Clark" was in the Indiana Legislature he introduced a bill to repeal all laws requiring officers to give Ijond, contending with great earnestness that the honor and honesty of the officer elected should be the only pledge for the faithful discharge of his official duties, and that when no official bond was given the people would be more careful in selecting men whose honor and honesty would be ample security. In 1820 Genera! Clarke represented Washington county in the Legislature, and served several terms as state senator. Upon one occasion he and Gen. John Depauw were opposing candidates for the state senate. Everybody voted at Salem then. The two got into an altercation, when Clarke flew into a passion and made at DePauw with a pocket knife, which DePauw did not seem to fear and stood his ground. No one interfered, when Clarke, reflecting that the provocation was hardly sufficient to warrant him in stabbing his opponent, turned to George Beck, saying: "George, why didn't you catch me? This has lost me my election." And so it did, for DePauw was elected.

When a newcomer arrived in town everyone lent a helping hand to get them in comfortable quarters. Upon one occasion a cabin was being put up for a man named Glover and Clarke and a man named Fleishman were working up on the roof, placing poles to hold on the clapboards, when accidentally Fleishman struck Clarke with a pole, forcing him off the horse. As he gathered himself up he broke out into a torrent of maledictions and seizing an ax took after Fleishman who took to his heels ; but Glover caught Clarke just in time to save Fleishman from being lirained. Everything was peaceable as soon as Clarke had time to cool down.

On one occasion when on a scout he met a hunter that seemed to be very proud of his new gun, and handed it to Clarke to inspect. Clarke looked it over and said : "Now I will give you a lesson that will teach you never to hand a stranger a loaded gun. You just get up on that log or I will shoot you." The stranger very reluctantly complied with the demand, whereupon Clarke explained the great risk he ran and admonished him to profit by it. and handed over the gun. The fellow, stepi)ed back a fewpaces and levelling his cocked gun at Clarke, said : "I now propose to even upon with you. Climb that log or I'll blow your daylights out." He had the drop on Clarke, who had to comply. They thus played even, and Clarke used to relate the circumstance as a good joke on himself.

Besides serving several terms in the Legislature Clarke acted as Indian agent for Indiana under President Adams, and was twice reappointed by General Jackson, although of different politics. The election of 1840 found him an ardent supporter of his old commander, General Harrison. He was upon the electoral ticket that year and the last office he held was to carry the vote to the city of Washington. He was also Indiana's first elector, making the trip to Washington and return on horseback clad in his suit of buckskin.

General Clarke built the first county jail in the spring of 1815, for which he received the sum of five hundred and eighty-eight dollars. As soon as the commission located the town of Salem, Clarke gave up his claim in Howard township and moved to the county seat, stopping a while at Brewers Fort, until he completed the first home in the town and opened up the first hotel. General Clarke bought a lot on the west side of South Main street, in the second block south of the square, and there in a story-and-a-hal f two-room cabin Judge Lindley held the first court in the town, and sat upon a corn pile in one corner of the room while court was being conducted. General Clarke lived there several years, till 1827, when he purchased the brick in the court house that was torn down that year and used them in putting up the two-story hotel which stands to this day. A short time after he built this brick hotel he disposed of it and located on the farm one and one-half miles east of Salem, now known as "Maple Shade,*' where he died, and upon which spot he was buried, July 25, 1846, in the sCventy-fifth year of his age.

He was buried with Masonic honors, of which order he was a consistent, faithful member. He joined the Masons a short time after the first lodge was instituted in Louisville, Kentucky, shortly after 1803. He retained his membership there until 1814, when he and Gen. John DePauw interested other parties in the project and procured a dispensation from the grand lodge, or grandmaster of Kentucky, empowering them to organize a lodge at Salem under the name of Melchizedek Lodge No. 37, of which lodge General Clarke was worshipful master. In September, 181 7, the representatives of nine lodges in Indiana met at Corydon and took the initial steps to organize a grand lodge in Indiana. General Clarke represented his lodge there. The meeting adjourned to come together again at Madison, January 12, 1818, when the grand lodge was organized and General Clarke was elected junior grand warden. The name of his lodge was changed to Salem Lodge No. 21, which number it still retains. In 1824 General Clarke was elected senior grand warden; and on October 3, 1825, was chosen grandmaster, being re-elected to the same office in 1826. He remained a faithful member of the Salem lodge until his death. During the trymg times of anti-Masonry, a clergyman undertook to change General Clarke's views, dilating at considerable length upon the evils of all secret organizations. He listened attentively, and when the preacher had done, the General drew himself up to his full height, his eyes flashing and thus replied : "Sir, the lodgeroom is my church and Free Masonry my religion. If I live by it, 1 can die by it, and while I am a consistent member of the order I have no fears of the future." General Clarke was wont to visit his lodge in his moccasins, buckskin breeches and hunting shirt, his usual dress.

Salem formally observed Decoration Day on Monday, May 29, 1881. upon which occasion the Masons of the county, headed by Salem Lodge No. 21, had arranged to exhume the remains of General Clarke and remove them to Crown Hill cemetery. About nine o'clock in the morning a committee of Masons and an escort of militia repaired to the spot and opened the grave. In it was found the bones of the general most all preserved, and a considerable portion of the cherry coftin in which his remains had been deposited. These were carefully taken up and encased in a new coftin and escorted to town. At one o'clock a procession was formed on North Main street in the following order : Salem Democratic band, Salem Guards, Odd Fellows in regalia. Masons, hearse, little girls with flowers, relatives of deceased and citizens in carriages.

There were over fifteen hundred people in the procession, which moved to the cemetery, where the remains of General" Clarke were interred a second time with Masonic honors. Calvin W. Prather, grand master of Indiana officiating. Three Masons were present at his reinterment who participated at the first interment thirty-five years Ix-fore. namely; Elijah Newland, Townsend Cutshaw and Daniel Dawalt. Upon his tombstone is this inscription; "Here lies the youngest of twenty-nine brothers and three sisters."

Micajah Callaway

Some very remarkable men have lived in Washington county - were upon the stage of action here more than a century ago. The history of their lives would make volumes of interesting readmg, if it were possible to spread it upon the printed page, but we must be content with the lew details handed down by tradition. A man among men was Micajah Callaway. He was for vears the companion of Daniel Roone; was with the latter in many a fight with the Indians, and was one of the best of scouts and spies. It is related of him that he could walk through the woods sa noiselessly that if one's back was turned toward him, he would be right upon the party before the latter could hear him. He was more than a match for the wily savage, and many a redskin has he stretched out upon the ground lifeless, by the unerring bullet from his long rifle. To the day of his death he hated the redskins.

Micajah Callaway was born at Lynchburg, Virginia, in 1755. In the spring of 1775 he joined Daniel Boone in Kentucky and at once became a companion of that great scout, hunter and adventurer, of whose exploits every schoolboy in the land has heard. In 1777 the people of BoonesborO' were suffering a great deal for the want of salt, and the labor and risk was too great to try to pack it on horseback across the mountains, where they had to go for all the necessaries of life which the wild forest wilderness did not furnish. So it was arranged that Boone, with thirty men, should go to the lower "blue licks," on Licking river and manufacture salt. Included in this number were Micajah and Flanders Callaway. The party set out on New Year's Day, 1778, Boone being the guide, hunter and scout. By the 7th of -February t4iey had salt enougii to send a supply to the station,: and three of their number were detailed to carry it back while the rest worked on.

On this same day, while Boone was out hunting, he was surprised and captured by two Canadians and one hundred Shawnee Indians.- Boone,, finding that he could not warn his companions at the "lick," so they could escape, set about making terms for them, in their behalf, and finally persuaded his men by signs and gestures to surrender, as a fight would mean their annihilation. Callaway said in after years that if they had had the least idea of what they were to sufifer, they would have fought until the last man was killed, getting some satisfaction in seeing some of the savages sent to purgatory. Many of these men were marched through to Detroit,. Michigan, barefooted and over snow and frozen ground most of the way,. where they were delivered over to Governor Hamilton, the British commander in the Northwest. On their way north some who grew sick and were unable to go further were put to the torture, while some were killed and scalped by the wayside; but Callaway was retained up in Ohio, at what was called the Chillicothe towns. He was compelled for three months to subsist on fish, which he had to catch himself, and all this time he had no salt. Once, he said, that he got a duck's leg that had been boiled in corn.

but the Indians took particular pains to see that he got no corn. His brother James was also a prisoner, but the latter and Boone managed to escape at different periods in the spring and summer of 1778. James Callaway wandered in the wilderness for twenty-se\en days, subsisting entirely upon frogs and roots the whole time, as he had no gun to shoot game. He crossed the Ohio river on a log, but it took him the greater part of a whole day to paddle to the Kentucky shore. Micajah Callaway often related to his family and neighbors, in after years, how, during the period of five years and five months that he was a prisoner with the Indians, he saw whites captured and burned at the stake, made to run the gauntlet and tortured in every conceivable way, and how he was compelled to sit by and witness it all; how they would beat him with their fists and sticks; how the squaws would jab him with burned sticks, and how, when the red devils, after scalping a victim, would dash the bloody scalp into his face, telling him that if he attempted to escape they would serxe him the same way. He said he never lay down to sleep of nights that he wasn't lashed with rawhide to some big brave to prevent his escape, or pinned to the ground with a forked sapling. A small tree would be cut down and split up from the butt some three feet. At about two feet from the end they would hollow out a round place large enough for the ankle to turn in easily. They would cut the pole off about five feet in length and sharpen the .small end. The split end would then be opened and the prisoner, wlioever he might be, was made to place his ankle in the slot, and the pole was then driven into the earth until the ankle was level with the ground ujjon which he slept. In this manner most prisoners were kept, and there was no chance of escape.

Callaway said he hated the British, and blamed them most for the cruelty practiced by the Indians. During the Revolution and for several years after the close of the war, the British supplied the Indians with guns and ammunition and incited them in every possible way to make war upon the pioneers who were gradually working their way west. While he was a captive, Callaway saw quite a number of British officers among the various tribes, looking after their welfare and telling the redskins where to attack the whites and how to drive them out of the country. These ofiicers conversed with him quite frequently, and urged him to join the side of the redcoats, promising him all sorts of rewards if lie would join their ranks and pilot their forces against the frontier forts and .settlements.

.'Vfter the close of the Revolution, there was to be an exchange of prisoners at the falls of the Ohio, and Callaway was the interpreter. .Kftc the exchange was made, the Indians insisted upon taking Callaway back with them, as he had not been considered in the exchange. This was his first opportunity to get out of their clutches, and he took advantage of it. They made great offers to get him to return with them, but he refused them all, and returned to his old home and friends in Kentucky, where he resided until 1803.

While he was with the Indians, Micajah Callaway became very well acquainted with Simon Girty, the renegade, and told how the latter used to abuse him and all white prisoners brought to their camps. He said Girty would laugh and scoff at their miseries while the savages tortured them. After peace was declared, probably about 1785, Simon Girty settled in Kentucky, not far from the Boonesboro settlement. Callaway came across him one day at a gathering and told Girty he intended to kill him for the many acts of barbarity and murder that he had instigated the savages to commit, even if he had done no murder himself. Girty, desperado as he had been, Ijegged Callaway to spare his life, which he finally agreed to do upon condition that if he (Girty) should ever be in a settlement, town or gathering of any kind, and Callaway came there, Girty was to leave at once and not say a word. Girty readily assented and hastily took his departure. Callaway traveled around considerably just to see Girty make tracks at his coming. Callaway only wished Girty would stand his ground just once, in order that he might avenge the terrible wrongs of the renegade's former prisoners. The whole country soon found out how Girty had to move when Callaway came about, and he was taunted and jeered wherever he went, until finally he abandoned Kentucky.

There was one incident connected with the early life of Micajah Callaway that must not be passed over unnoted. It was at the close of a beautiful summer day, July 14. 1775. that Betsy Callaway, her sister, Frances, and Jemima Boone, daughter of Daniel Boone, were outside the fort at Boonesboro and in a canoe on the Kentucky river. Betsy was about sixteen and the other two about fourteen years of age. They were in plain sight of the fort, and were carelessly paddling about in the canoe. On the opposite bank of the river the trees and imderbrush were quite dense and came down to the water's edge. The girls, all imconscious of danger, were playing and splashing in the water, and in so doing drifted near the opposite shore. Five stout Indians had been lying there concealed, one of whom, as noiselessly and stealthily as a serpent, crawled down the bank until he reached the bark rope attached to the canoe and hauled it ashore. As he (16) seized the rope Betsy gave him a terrific blow on the head with the edge of the paddle, inflicting a severe cut on the head of the savage. With an "Ugh" he fell into the water, whereupon the others seized the boat, dragged the girls ashoire and soon .'ad theili out of sight of the fort.

The cries of the girls were heard at the fort, but most of the men were out hunting and there was no one to pursue. Besides, the canoe, the only means of crossing, was on the opposite shore, and none dared to swim, for they believed that a large body of savages were concealed in the brush. The Callaway girls were the daughters of Richard Callaway, and cousins of Micajah. It was night before Boone and the Callaways returned to the fort. Learning what had happened Captain Bcx3ne and Colonel Callaway, the agonized parents of the lost ones, appealed to the other male inmates of the fort to join them in pursuit of the girls. Seven select men joined them, all taking a solemn oath that they would bring the captives back or spill every drop of their life's blood in the eiTort. A Colonel P'loyd was one of the number and so was Micajah Callaway. By daylight the following morning they were on the track, but the Indians had taken every precaution to obliterate their trail. They covered their tracks with leaves, often turned ofi at right angles and whenever they came to a branch, walked in the water for some distance. The girls shared the sylvan sagacity of their parents to a considerable extent, and seeing the effort made by their captors to obliterate their tracks, the\- would occasionally tear oft' a bit of their clothing and drop it down to show their rescuers the route they had gone. But the Indians soon discovered this trick and under threats compelled the girls to stop it. After that, whenever they got a chance the captives would break a twig or weed, as a guide to the unerring woodsmen. The first few days they were out it was close work to keep on the trail. But after that, the Indians were not so careful, thinking they were out of reach of their pursuers, and better speed was made from day to day. But with the very best efforts they could put forth, it was the fifteenth day before the party from the fort overtook the Indians, who harl. in the main, kept in a northerly direction. It was late in the evening when the Indians were discovered. There were about a dozen of them in the gang. While the fugitives were arranging for their suppers, Boone and Richard Callaway left their party some distance behind and scouted around the camp to s,et an idea of the lay of the land. In doing this they were discovered, and surrendered themselves to the savages rather than endanger the lives of their children by getting into a conflict. Upon their failure to return at the appointed time, the party left behind anticipated something^ serious had happened to Boone and Callaway, and late at night it was decided that some one should scout around and learn, if possible, the actual condition of affairs. Micajah Callaway was chosen to do the scouting and he very carefully approached the camp. The Indians were off their guard, presuming that Boone and Callaway had pursued them alone, not dreaming that they had five trusty followers near at hand. Micajah Callaway got so dose to the camp that he could see by the dim firelight that Boone and Callaway were in the Indians' clutches. Around a small fire were most of the liidians, in council, as he rightly supposed, deciding the fate of the two captives. Micajah Callaway reported back what he had seen and the whites felt sure their two companions would be dispatched in some cruel manner the following morning. Before it was light the pursuers very cautiously moved up as near the camp as they could safely do and await>ed developments. As soon as it was clear moming light the Indian camp was in motion. The business that first demanded their attention was the killing of Boone and Richard Callaway and the two captives were accordingly led out some distance from the camp, and out of the girls' sight, where they were bound to a couple of saplings, and the warriors were stationed before them who were to dispatch them with their tomahawks. The prisoners were awaiting the fatal blow when a discharge of rifles, cutting down two of the savages at the first shot, arrested their proceedings. Two other Indians received wounds, but they were assisted by their fellows and got away. The Indians all beat a hasty retreat, leaving their dead and the captives to the deliverers of the latter. Micajah Callaway said he saw the bloodthirsty devil he drew a bead on, fall, to rise no more.

About the first of May, 1791, Gen. Arthur St. Clair was sent West with a force which was thought to be sufficient to break the power of the Miami confederacy and its British allies. As this force passed through Kentucky Micajah Callaway joined it, whereupon General St. Clair, being told of his adroitness as a spy, made him chief of scouts. Callaway was well acquainted with the whole country and was most familiar with the Indians' mode of warfare. When far to the north, near a branch of the Miami river, Micajah Callaway discovered on the far side of the stream a couple of Indian scouts, and he knew by their actions, that many more must be close by, perhaps the entire force of Little Turtle, who had command of the Miamis. He hastened back to inform the officer of the advance guard, but when he reported what he had seen and the conclusions he had readied, he was accused of having the "Shawnee fever,'' which meant that he smelled danger when there was none. The scout told the officer if he crossed the river with his men he would catch worse than the "Shawnee fever " General St. Clair coming up, ->rdered the entire force to cross the river at once, which they did., halting upon a rise of ground which was bare of trees. Not an Indian was to be seen, but they soon sprang from the coverts in all directions, in overwhelming numbers, and after a three hours' struggle the whites were put to rout, nearly half of them having been killed, tlie rest finding safety by retreating to Ft. Jefferson, a distance of twenty-nine miles.

In the fall of 1793, General Wayne, generally known as "Mad Anthony," was ordered to subdue the Miami confederacy, and was given a force of three thousand men to do battle against Little Turtle. Micajah Callaway again volunteered his services and was again principal scout and spy. Reaching the scene of St. Clair's defeat. General Wayne built a stockade and named it Ft. Recovery. Here Callaway did valiant service, for which he was highly complimented by General Wayne. On August 20, a battle en.sued, in which the Indians were routed and the backbone of the Miami confederacy was broken. Micajah Callaway returned to his home in Kentucky, where, in 1796, he married Mary Arnold. In 1803 he followed Daniel Boone to Missouri, heading a little colony of Kentuckians who also desired to go to the Far West, far beyond the then borders of civilization. The company went on horseback and carried their worldlxpossessions on pack horses. They crossed the Ohio at Cincinnati and took what was then known as "Boone's track," a direct west course almost to the settlement. That trace ran through this county, passing on the ridge l>etween the old Henry Luck place and Millport. Boone's settlement, where the}^ stopi)ed, was alwut twenty miles above St. Louis, and some two miles back from the river. Here Callaway's wife and infant daughter sickened and died of malarial fever. Callaway said he had as many as three severe chills inside of twenty-four hours. He told his companion settlers they might remain in that God-forsaken country if they liked, but as for him. he was going back to "old Kentuck," where one could live with some satisfaction and enjoy life. He then made a ]iannier out of buffalo hides, like unto a huge pair of saddlebags, which he put over tlie packsaddle strapped to a trusty horse, and putting his small son James in one end and Fdmund in the other, together with a few necessary articles on the saddle, he shouldered his rifle and started alone to travel al)out four hundred miles, through the unbroken wilderness where savages were plentiful and thirsting for the blood of the white man. He and the two children subsisted along the way on the game he killed from day to day, making the tedious journey without any mishap.