Freedom Township (part 4 of 8)

Bach's counsel prepared a bill of exceptions and a short time prior to the time set foi- the execution, filed a motion in tbe Supreme court for leave to file a petition in error. The motion being argued was sustained by the court and a stay of ])rocwdings granted until the hearing of tlu' petition at the January term 188:!. at which time the judii'inent of the court of Common Pleas was reversed for the reason that said court erred in empanelling the jury. The cause was thereupon remanded for a new trial and at the February term, 1833, of Wood Common Pleas, it was ordered to be again placed on the trial docket of said court, and assigned for trial at the May term thereof, viz: on the 11th day of June, 1883, when the second trial began, and on the 27th of that month the jury brought in a verdict of guilty. He was then sentenced, and on the 12th day of October, 1883, Carl Bach paid the extreme penalty of his crime, being the second and last murderer hanged in Wood county.

A Strange Story

A NUMBER of years ago the Sentinel related an incident regarding an intelligent, plainly dressed woman, above the middle age, who arrived from an eastern state and stopped at one of the Bowling Green hotels. She looked up a livery man and after making some inquiries about prices, she made cautious inquiry for a family whose name need not be given. The livery man knew several persons of that name in the south part of the county, and together they started, and after some inquiry found the man for whom she searched. The balance of the story as reluctantly told by the lady herself is this: Thirty-six years before that time, when she was a child six or seven years old, she lived with her father and mother on a beautiful stream beyond the Alleghanies. She had several brothers and sisters, but she was the favorite of her father. A dark cloud and domestic unhappiness came over the household and her father fled and became lost to his family entirely. The mother obtained a divorce and married again. The children grew up and married one after another, and finally the subject of this sketch became a widow. Some months before her arrival she accidentally heard of a man of the same name as her long lost father, and from some circumstance related she was more than half convinced that it must be he and that he lived in Wood county, Ohio. With a woman's curiosity and tenacity of purpL<se she resolved to go and search for him.

As she drove along the road in the vicinity of where he lived on a farm less than ten miles from this place, she met a couple of men of whom she made inquiry. One of them answered to the name of the man she sought. The man gazed at her intently for some time. Perhaps he saw in her face something familiar. Perhaps she resembled her mother, once his wife. She nervously disclosed to him a part of her errand, when he walked around the carriage to the side where she sat and extending his hand said, "Sarah Jane, I am your lost father." We will not attempt to describe the meeting of this long separated father and daughter, but conclude after stating the fact that the old man had lived in Wood county a number of years, and had eleven sons and daughters, most of them married and settled. He was then living with his third wife, the mother of his second set of children having died some 3^ears before. Wife number one was still living in comfortable circumstances and perhaps ignorant of the whereabouts or fate of her long ago forijotten husband.

Sckap-Book Indian Dances

WILLIAM EWING was especially recognized among the Indians as one of their white friends or advisers and has settled many of their disputes. He says he has probably attended as many as a hundred Indian dances in his time. Their dances were of two characters, one called "Manatoo" a religious dance, and the other their war dance. Their "Manatoos"' would be held at their camp, at which six or eight hundred Indians would sometimes assemble, dressed in their finest costumes and wearing their brightest jewelry. They would build what might be called a bower, about 30 by 60 feet in size, for the occasion, with center posts, around which the Indians would travel in procession repeating a chant and going through all sorts of antics; one Indian would sit in the center and beat a "one-headed drum," made by stretching a skin over a cut from a hollow log. The medicine man was always a prominent guest, always dressed in the finest furs and carried a wampum belt in his hand. He traveled in an opposite direction to the rest and would occasionally single out a favorite dancer at whom he would point his wampum, and who would drop to the ground and again rise and join the dance after receiving a blessing from the medicine man.

Ewing once attended a war dance at a camp at the mouth of Tontogany creek, the occasion being a little local difficulty. Two young Indians named Nauquezike and Pamquauk, rivals, got into difficulty at the dance over a young squaw, and Nauquezike killed Pamquauk by stabbing him with a knife.

Ewing relates that himself and another young man once attended a dance with two bright young belles of their neighborhood and were invited to join in the services, which invitation they accepted. Swing's lady became so badly frightened at the maneuvers of the Indians when about half way round the bower, that she "broke" and ran as though for her life. The Indians were so amused at her discomforture that all joined in a hearty demonstration of mirth, which frightened her still more and she nearly went into spasms, and left, resolving that she would never attend another Indian ball.

A Sad Chapter

THE Sentinel of March 23, 1882, contains one of the saddest chapters probably in the annals of Wood county, written by Mr. C. W. Evers, who made a thorough investigation of all the circumstances connected with the tragedy. Tiie account follows: near the Plain church, four miles west of Bowling Green, Fanny Deering, a young lady of 27, cultured and intelligent, shot herself with a revolver. This is the legal verdict.

But is there another, darker, more awful verdict in this case? Was the trembling hand that held the pistol to the beating heart of Fanny Deering and pulled the fatal trigger the only hand raised against her life ? Are there others who, at the final judgment, must be held responsible for her blood?

J. K. Deering, the father of Fanny, was of a good, respectable family in Maine, and was given a college education and put into the ministry. At a synod meeting he met an educated young lady and an accomplished musician and after a short acquaintance, married her. Their life was not happy; he was a poor excuse of a husband, scarcely able to provide for himself, let alone a family, while she was proud-spirited and ambitious. They continued man and wife until five children had been born to them, when a decree of divorce on the grounds of incompatibility was given them by the court, and Deering kept the oldest child, Fanny, then thirteen or fourteen ^ears old.

Fanny had, in the meantime, the advantages of schools and was a very bright, apt child. Soon after, Deering took Fanny and went to Michigan where one of his sisters lived, and where Fanny soon after taught school, her father, as she said, appropriating most of her wages, which was almost a necessity to him, as he seemed incapable of maintaining himself in any degree of respectability. He seems to have been too jiroud and impractical or lazy to work and was not a success as a preacher.

Fanny had a great adaptability and love for music, and after a time entered Oberlin College, and after two years of self denial and deprivation, during which time she taught, she graduated in the Conservatory of Music. Through her proficiency and adaptability as a teacher, good address and good recommends, she had no trouble in securing employment, and througli the advice of a classmate she went to Toledo and found profitable patrons in some of the best- families in the city, and was organist in one of the city missions, . also a beloved teacher in

"I visited them (Fanny and her father, who kept house in a rented room. - Ed.) often, and never detected any signs of neglect or indifference to the needs or comforts of her father on the part of Miss Deering, whom I have always given credit for being a most dutiful daughter, continually laboring far beyond her strength, under great disadvantage of delicate health and other unfavorable conditions. 1 am convinced that if she had been less unselfish and devoted to his interests, she would to-day be far better off in health and pocket than she now is.

"From a close and friendly intercourse with Miss Deering, extending over nearly eight years, I can truly say that I believe her to be truthful and worthy of the respect and confidence of all whom she may meet."

"I know that previous to the marriage of her father to his present wife, she (Fanny) cared for and supported her father by her own labor, when physically, he was much better able to do it than she was to do it for him.

"Miss Deering has been a member of my family for several months and I know her to be truthful and honest to the last farthing. I also know her character to be spotless and her conduct without reproach."

These are the disinterested testimonials of Christian people and we produce them to silence the tongue of calumny put in motion by Deering or some of liis apologists, that Fanny was undutiful.

quarrelsome, bad disposition, etc. All who knew her speak of her as a kind, sympathetic, sweet dispositioned girl. She seems to have mostly supported her father for a time until about 1876, when he married a woman at Perrysburg, who now became her step mother and borrowed Fanny's money as fast as she earned it. Fanny still taught music and practiced the greatest economy and self denial, going on foot, lame as she was, from house to house to visit her pupils rather than pay street car fare, in order that she might accumulate a little sum of money with which she could visit Germany and graduate in music, which was the one great aim and ambition of her life. The energy of her whole being centered in this one object. She took lessons in the German language and studied nights until her eye sight began to fail and she had to wear eye glasses. She progressed rapidly and soon she could read and write and converse in German. Thus it Avas she toiled on night and day that she might fulfill her musical aml)ition.

In the meantime her step mother continued to borrow her money giving notes therefor and assuring her that it would be forthcoming when she got ready to go to Germany. She represented, that she had an abundance of property and it was thrice secured. The sum now amounted to over $1,400 and Fanny had set a time to go, notifying her step mother, who wrote her the money would be all ready. Music pupils were dismissed, business matters arranged and she was ready to depart.

But what was the poor girl's chagrin and disappointment when she called for her money and was told there would be a little delay in getting it. There was no help for it and she had to wait; the date was fixed anew when she could get it and also a new date for the journey.

'i'liat time came but still no money - nothing but promises. It was about this time she heard the further unpleasant fact that her step mother was so fixed financially that the money was not collectible l)y law and that there was but a remote possibility of her ever getting it at all.

This was a crvishing blow to Fanny; all her Ijright anticipations dashed to naught - all her days and nights of toil and privation - broken health - tired body and mind all endured in vain - nothing hut black disappointment.

This diseouragenieni and her naturally frail condition of health, together with the mental strain, affected her health so that she did not feel able to teach. In this condition she went sometime last July to her father's at the Plain parsonage four miles west of this place where Dee ring had preached for two or three Aoars past.

She thought to rest, regain her health and perhaps plead with her step mother to get her at least a part of her money, which Fanny fully believed she could l)ay if she would. She soon began to realize that she was none too welcome e\en in lier own father's house. They had her money but did not care to be troubled with her presence. From coolness of treatment came bitter words, until at last Fanny received cniel blows and A\as driven from her father's roof, her trunks put in the wagon shed and the doors locked and even nailed against her and she was told they would not pay lier.

To get her away peaceably her father engaged her board at a near neighbor's, ^Ir. Lowes, for a short time, but Fanny at last had to become responsible for the payment. This cruel treatment on the . part of her father, seemed to crush her proud spirit and she seemed heart broken, blatters went on in tliis wav until Jan-

On January 13, she went in desperation to her father's again, and went to a chamber room she had been in the habit of occupying, and some time later it was noised among the near neighbors that she was very sick and dying. She had taken laudanum enough to kill two persons, and after three days of careful nursing and care she was restored, although for a time it was supposed she was past help.

She had made all preparations for death, and among the papers left, sealed and addressed to a neighbor woman, was one addressed to her step mother. It shows the extent of her sufferings for the deep wrong that she felt had been done her, and is sufficient to draw tears from a cast-iron monument. It may be proper to say here that the lady never sent the letter to the step mother.

* * "You knew that I had denied myself of all that a girl and woman craves, and worked myself all but to death to gain just one chance, and yet you deliberately robbed me of the fruit of seven years' toil for that one object. You snatched my last, only hope from me, and now you tell me you have done nothing you regret or would have done differently ! Oh, what can you be made of ? Though you knew that my strength was Ijroken and worn out in labor to support YOU and your husband, that you had torn away my last hope and motive for life, and left me broken-hearted and despairing, yet, not content with refusing me the barest necessities of life, you pursued me with a relentless brutality. You knowingly goaded me on to desperation and death by every means your two natures could jointly devise. Night after night have I heard you two conjure upon ways and means to torment and injure something should, be done to prevent her taking her own life but he made a cold, unfeeling reply and he even refused to build a fire to warm the room where she lay, and the ladies who were trying to save her life were so uncomfortable that they could not remain long in the room at one time. He seemed to feel indifferent.

After this, Fanny was treated harsher than before. ^Vhen she got well enough and went back to Lowe's near by, the doors at the parsonage were kept constantly locked and nailed up. Her trunks were out in the shed and when any one knocked at the door Deering or his wife first looked out of the window to see who was there.

The Thursday previous to her death Mrs. Deering had invited a few members of the church society to spend the evening. Each one noticed as they came in that the door was locked behind them. Later in the evening as they sat talking, the back door opened quietly and who should enter but Fanny looking like a hunted deer. She was greeted cordially by the guests, but hardly a look of recognition did she receive from her step mother, who, the moment of the girl's entry, stared at her with a look of spasmodic agitation. Deering could conceal his feelings better and nodded a good evening. No one asked Fanny to a seat or to take off her hat. All the time Fanny was there Mrs. Deering seemed to tremble from head to foot with excitement and agitation.

Did that woman, Mrs. Deering, know at that time what Fanny came there for? She acted as if she did. She knew that Fanny carried, and had carried for weeks, a pistol with her in a little box. The neighbors had noticed that box.

Mrs. Deering certainly knew what was in that box and must have guessed pretty certainly what it was for; she did not fear violence on herself or Deering as will be seen by an incident farther on. No ; in onr belief she feared the girl wanted to take her life, and, of course, did not wish to have it happen in her house. If she thought poor, friendless, robbed Fanny was on the verge of suicide - we say if she thought so - Deering must have shared her suspicion. And if they thought so, did they care ? Did they realize what it was that was driving the broken-hearted being on to desperation? - that she knew they were fixing to go to Minnesota soon, and that her father, whose slave she had been and who was her only natural friend and protector on earth, liad inhumanly steeled, his heart and hand against her, that his wife had got all her hard, hard earnings, and that lanir. In'oken in heart and pennik^ss. this j)roud-spirite(l, anilntious girl was to be turned adrift on the world alone, to struggle on as best she could or go to the poor house.

If tliey did tliink of these things then their sins will be greater, for instead of offering Ijalm to her bleeding heart she was subjected to further degrading, cruel, inlnnnan treatment - to blows, like a brute. We relate an incident as giving a probable clue to the life the girl had been subjected to while under her father's roof and from the woman who had taken her money from her. It was not enough that the food was hidden from her, that she was denied fire to make her comfortable - she was beaten, beaten like a brute, for the most trivial offense.

The Saturday before Fannx's death Mrs. Carr called at the parsonage to spend an hour, and while there Fanny asked her if she was fond of hickory nuts. She went and brought some, and, finding nothing to crack them on, she thoughtlessly cracked one or two on the heavy stove hearth. Without a word of warning the step mother sprang like a tigress from her chair at the sewing machine, a few yards away, and beat Fanny about the head brutally, and finally knocked her over so she fell in her visitor's lap, and the shameful scene ended, Mrs. Deering saying: "I'll teach you to crack nuts on my stove hearth."

The following Monday morning the step mother left for Elmore because, as is l)elieved by many that she was, as we hinted previously, apprehensive of what would happen and left. The next day, Tuesday,

Shot through the heart b}- her own hand. Al)out the middle of the forenoon Mr. (*arr, who was engaged on his place adjoining the parsonage, happened to look up from his work and saw Fanny's face at the window, where she seemed to be kneeling, whether in the attitude of prayer or not he did not know. A short time after, he heard a pistol shot, but not very distinctly, to which he paid but little attention, thinking it some boys in the road beyond the house. That was the last time Fanny was seen alive and was the last time she gazed on the light of day or on an unkind world which she bade a last farewell.

Mr. Carr' says her pale, sad face as he saw it through the window glass is, in the light of what followed, engraven on his memory like an image, never to be effaced by time.

She had risen in the morning, combed her hair, and attired herself neatly, having the previous evening written to several intimate friends and given minute directions as to the disposition of her personal effects, also of her body.

One of these letters, to Mrs. Harvey Condit, which begins with allusions to another friend, Mrs. Prentice, and which was published in the Toledo Bee, is as follows : it is nocessarv. tShe and many others will mourn my said error - as they will call it - 1)iit they must remember that one cannot judge correctly of a person's error unU'ss ihey are familiar with his imderstanding. They would feel differently if they knew the greatest and best part of me. All joy and hope was dead long ago.

"It is better tliat the fragment left, go with the rest. I cannot live without the love and tenderness that may never be mine. ]f I could have attained my ambition and fitted myself for some position of usefulness that I could fill, it might - probably would - have been very different; but now I only know enough to be a drudge all my days, and I have no heart or strength to drudge, even if there were any use in it.

"I could never go into the world again to endure and contend with all a lonely woman must. I have for years - ages it seems - felt that some clay it must come to this, but could not' give up till I came here. This summer has showed me more plainly wliat I already knew - that there was nothing else for me. God only knows how desperate and bitter the struggle has been, and I am tired to death. My furniture is willed to a friend who will not care for my stove I think. * * *

"i should be so glad to help dear Mrs. Carr. If I had it to do again I would distribute my few things differently than I have, Init I can not change without more botlier than it is really worth, for I have but little for any one. When you see Minnie Minton, give her my love, and tell her I look eagerly for a letter from her until the day I die. I am so disappointed not to hear from her again. Her friendship and sympathy have been much to me. The gold pin I spoke of giving her I have given to another friend for whom I seemed to have nothing else. Minnie will have enough to remind her of me.

"I thought of giving some books to Ben (Minton) but as I haven't very many it seems best that they should go together. Please give the German pajx'rs to Mrs. Prentice. * * * *

"Your company has lightened and ciieered many sad hours for me. I owe }ou much. I can make no return, but I am grateful for all the kindness and ^^ynij)atliy I have received here. Farewell. "F. L. Deering."

"I beg you to do what you can to keep the manner of my death a secret, as far as may be. I believe you will do this for my sake. I never intended that any one should know about it wdien I used to think about it, but it cannot be helped now. I realize and feel the disgrace as keenly as anybody possibly could,"

- * * "You are, undoubtedly, the one person living who hid his daughter's food in the house, even to hickorynuts and walnuts picked by her, and told her you begrudged her every mouthful she ate, after her whole life had been sacrificed to your selfishness. Live to remember that you did all this, and infinitely more, to me the day before I died; that you forced me to spend my last days on earth in hunger and wretchedness. The time will come when this will be impressed on you, but not in this world. Eemember that one sign of honor or uprightness, one fatherly look even, Avould have saved me from this. When I was sick here I heard you say I ought to be pounded half to death, and you wished you could pound me to death. You have killed me by inches. Are you satisfied?"

Scrap-Book

Who is to blame, and how far the responsibility for the dead, rests on the living the reader must judge. We have no comments further than to say that Fanny was shamefully wronged by her father and step mother, and they can render to the public and to God to whom they must answer, no adequate justification.

We know it may be said that Fanny was of age and had no legal claim for a home and support from her father; grant this to be all true. Yet she was his child, sick and homeless, made so by efforts to support him and help him and if the embers of human sympathy had not been dried and burned up in his heart he would have shared the last crust of bread with her instead of turning her away.

And his wife, what shall be said of her? Had she dealt even as one despised Jew deals with another, given Fanny the money she had taken from her, Fanny Deeriiig would today lie alive, a happy, useful woman.

with trumped up mortgages to her sons in order to prevent the collection of this money which she grudged to see the girl get. As to the truth of this we do not pretend to know or say. We are simply relating this to show the influences that worked on the unfortunate girl's mind. That she was insane or ever showed the least symptom of shattered reason the neighbors do not believe. They say it is a trumped up story to break the force of damning sentiment, which lies against Deering, justly or unjustly.

Doubtless the girl had brooded over her disappointment, her ill treatment and desertion till it affected her already shattered health and became a constant sorrow and burden which she could not shake off. She was kind and gentle to all, hut especially to children and aged peojilc, and there apj^ears to be not a person who has ever associated with her but what loves and respects her, except her father and step mother, who deliberately drove her to despair.

The sentiment in the community there since the tragedy has been very strong against Deering and his wife and on Saturday night a Ku Klux crowd visited his house but found no occupants. He had prudently absented himself, but there were plenty of signs left tliat the party was well supplied with tar and feathers.

The Loomis Murder

ON May 14, 1886, at the Columbus penitentiary, Arthur J. Grover paid the extreme penalty of the law, by hanging for the murder of Granville G. Loomis. From the Wood Countv Sentinel of May 16, 1886, the following accotint of the murder is condensed :

Saturday afternoon, about 2 o'clock May 9, 1885, a man was found lying dead in a pasture lot about half a mile northeast of the Empire House, Stony Eidge, Wood county. Every indication showed that the man had l)een most foully and deliberately murdered. His body lay on the sod at full length, his right leg crossed over his left, his hands folded over his breast, and his head resting on a rock cropping out of the surface of the ground. The face and head were mangled beyond recognition, evidently for the purpose of preventing identitication. A large boulder weighing over twenty pounds was on the ground near by, on which there were traces of blood and hair. With this rock the mutilation had evidently been accomplished.

The body was conveyed, to the Empire House and the clothing all removed in search of some clue that would lead to identification. The stockings were peculiar in their construction, and on each one was discovered a strip of white cloth about two inches in length, on which was printed with a stencil the name of "Gr. G. Loomis." This was the single clue that led eventually to the discovery of the murderer.

The body had evidently laid where it was discovered a number of days, for the grass under it was yellow. The cool weather for a number of days previous had evidently delayed decomposition.

Many theories were advanced regarding the tragedy, after the inquest, and the fact was pretty clearly establii?hed that the unfortunate victim had been murdered for his money. On the 13th, Sheriff Brown received a letter from Edwin Goddard, of Ashtabula, saying a man answering the description of the dead man and bearing the name of Granville G. Loomis had been staying at Orwell, that county. The next day a letter came from Will F. Bahcoek, Orwell, giving the minute description of Loomis, and stating that he had left Orwell on the 27th of April in company with a man named Arthur J. Grover, a chap who bore a pretty hard name, and also that the two had fled in the night, to escape some delits about the town, and that they had driven a cream colored Texas pony, hitched to a buck-board.

About this time, a party of four gentlemen from Ashtabula county came here to look into the matter. They were R. E. Stone and Z. C. Parker, of Orwell and

Fran]-: Luce, a brother-in-law of Loomis, and deputy-sheriff S. A. Squires, of Ashtabula. They immediately identified the clothing of the murdered man as Loomis' and expressed the opinion that he had been murdered by Arthur J. Grover. This point settled in the minds of the officers, the next question was how to catch the murderer. The Ashtabula county parties stated that prior to their departure from Orwell Grover and Loomis had talked a good deal about going to Dunn county, Wisconsin, where Grover claimed to have some land. Sheriff Brown and Prosecutor R. S. Parker became convinced that if Grover was the murderer he would drive the horse and buck-board through to Menominee, Wis., where his parents and brothers and sisters lived. It was thereupon agreed among the officers and friends of the murdered man, that Sheriff Brown and deputy Sheriff Squires of Ashtabula, should proceed to Wisconsin and wait for the man to come. Accordingly on May 19th, the two officers left this place quietly and for the next month Sheriff Brown was somewhere in search of Loomis' murderer.

It is too long a story for us to repeat here, the many trials, vexations, and disappointments they passed through during their long search among the swamps, huckleberry brush, mosquitoes and sand flies of northern central Wisconsin. How they had to travel about from one place to another, constantly on the lookout for their man, and yet daring to make but few confidants; how, in order to elicit certain facts they were all the time in a feverish state of internal excitement and hope, which they seldom dared express, lest Grover's friends might learn their mission and warn their man in time for him to escape. Had Grover committed the crime one day sooner or one day later in the course of their travels, we will venture the assertion that he would now be at large, and his victim occupying an unknown grave. But it so happened, that he murdered his man within the jurisdiction of the officers of Wood county, and when he was captured in the far off woods of Wisconsin, he awoke to a knowledge of the fact that he had been hunted down bv a man who did not know what it was to give up a chase.

On the ITth of June, Mr. Squires gave up all hope of catching tlieir man, and started for home. Soon after Squires had started for home, G rover was caught bv a man named Sam. McCahn, a gentl(>man to whom they had confided their story, at Fall Creek, a small town about 40 miles from Menominee. MeCahn knew Squires had started home and so telegraphed him and Sheriff Brown at Prairie Farm, where he had gone that day. Both men arrived at Fall Creek that night, where they found Grover, with Loomis' pony, buck-board and a host of small trinkets and belongings, which were subsequently identified as the property of Granville G. Loomis.

Sheriff Brown arrived home with his man on Wednesday, June 24111, having come from ^ladison, Wis., without sleeping and almost without eating. Then came the most difficult task of all. The collecting of sufficient circumstantial evidence to convict their man.

Prosecutor Parker obtained the services of F. A. Baldwin to assist him in the case, and they with Sheriff Brown and deputy Dunn spent many days and nights in consultation and in weaving the web of testimony that eventually brought the murderer to the gallows. When the grand jury met in September Grover was indicted for murder in the first degree.

Was like tlie unraveling of a strange and dreadful romance. All who heard it said it was the most fascinating case they had ever heard. The testimony of the witnesses for the state was like the leaves of a book. All were neccssarv to the complete work, and all were placed in just where they belonged; and when every page had been carefully read to the jury, and the book was closed, it was plain to everyone who had heard it throughout that the doom of Grover was sealed. So perfect was the chain of evidence as adduced by the state, and yet so justly and fairly handled during the trial, that Messrs. Parker and Baldwin were highly complimented by Judge Dodge, and the Judges of the Circuit Court before whom it came, as was also Sheriff Brown for the gallant work he had done in bringing the criminal to justice.

After very able pleas by all the attorneys in the case, and a charge from Judge Dodge, which was marked by its fairness and showed a great depth of thought over the trial, the jurj- retired and were out 20 hours, when they returned a verdict of guilty of murder in the first degree. Judge Dodge then sentenced Grover to be hanged on April 9, at the penitentiary.

Grover's attorneys argued a motion for a new trial before the Circuit C(nirt at Tiffin, in March, but the court found r.o error in the case, and, as they liad granted a suspension of sentence, ordered the sentence to be executed on ^lay 14th. ]\Iessrs. Tyler and Canary went before the Sui^reme Court and there argued a motion for a new trial, but that court also refused to interfere, and so the sentence was executed as above stated.

Gen. Anthony Wayne was not the reckless, daring commander, which might he supposed from the names given him by the Indians "Mad,"' "The Thunderer," "The Whirlwind." On the contrary, he was prudent, far seeing, methodical in his preparations, but when in action, no obstacle was allowed to thwart his purpose.

The Pioneee

THE Lima & Toledo Traction Company has erected at Eoche De Boenf a bridge of one unbroken mass of steel and cement from shore to shore. In giving an account of its construction, the Toledo News-Bee says:

"That historical and famous up-river landmark, Eoclie De Boeuf, has been practically obliterated by the construction of this bridge. All the glamour and beautv of this famous rock has been taken away by commercialism, in the shape of a traction bridge. This famous beauty spot of JSTorthwestern Ohio is now liemmed in on one side by a string of twenty-two ice-breakers, 13 feet square, and on the other side by one of the bridge })iers, which actually cuts out about 15 or 30 feet from the side of the rock. Its ijeauty as a landmark is gone, and now, instead of towering out majestically at the head of the Eapids of the Miami, as it was wont to do during centuries past, it seems to be creeping and hiding its head in shame back of a pile of concrete and steel, well calculated to dispel forever the glamour of legendary romance that has hung about the famous rock from time immemorial."

Up The Maumee

THE story that a steamboat once went up the Maumee past Waterville, Otsego and Gilead, seems to us of to-day like a legend, based mostly on fiction. The Maumee of to-day Avith its naked projecting rocks, dams, rapids and riffles and muddy water, is not the Maumee of 50 years ago. Once the river and its banks on either side were the highways of a vast commerce between the Lake and the Wabash country.

Scows, pirogues and canoes, ladened with valuable stores, brased its current from Fort Wayne to Perrysburg, and in winter or low stages of water, the carrying of stores, passengers and merchandise gave employment to a vast army of teamsters, horses and wagons. The distance from Fort Wayne to Perrysburg was 100 miles. The round trip with team and loaded wagon usually occupied 8 or 9 days, and various expedients were resorted to by shippers to avoid this slow and expensive way of shipping goods,' previous to the building of the canal.

It was in the summer of 1837 that an enterprising man, a captain, brought to the river a little canal-boat-built steam craft, constructed at Eochester, IST. Y., and astonished the natives along the river by the bold declaration that he was going up the Maumee. After passing Fort Meigs, Buttonwood Island, and the Prosque isle riffles, the little boat's shrill whistle loudly proclaimed her i)resence at the lock in Nearing's dam just below Miltonville.

After much trouble and by tlie assistance of ropes and tackle block, and much pulling and puffing, the Sun got into the mill pond above the dam, where, on the 4th of July, 1837, she was employed in giving the assembled people free rides back and forth across the river. When, finally she resumed her up-river course she met trouble again at Eush-te-boo rapids. A part of her freight was taken off and hauled around to Otsego by wagons. A rope and fall block was carried off to the boat from a tree at the shore and then horses were hitched to the rope, and in this way and with the assistance of men on shore the little craft ascended successively, Rush-te-boo Rapids, Wolf Rapids and Bear Rapids at Otsego, and finally landed safely in deep water above Gilead, where for a time she plied between that point and Flat Rock, below Defiance.

At Gilead later in the season, the Captain was taken sick with the Maumee fever and died. There was so much sickness that there were hardly well ones enough to take care of the sick and bury the dead. Daniel Barton, now of Milton, and Capt. Alva Gillett, who had a line of hacks on the mail route, sent a team to take the dead Captain to the grave near John Kimberlin's. When the burial party arrived, the two men who had been sent forward to dig the grave were found lying near a tree shaking with the ague and the grave was not dug. Some of the men took the spades and went to work in the hard clay. It was a very hot day and the mosquitoes and flies were so bad that they nearly drove horses and men crazy. Before the grave was completed some more of the men took the shakes, and Mrs. James Donaldson, whose husband was one of the party, carried water for the sick and for those at work at the grave, and it was with much difficulty that the burial was finally made.

The little steamboat stood the Maumee racket better than her master, and after a time ran down the river again and plied between Perrysburg and Vistula, now Toledo.

Another small boat called the Crockett attempted the ascent of the river, but never got above the Milton ville dam, and thus ended all attempts at steam navigation on the Maumee above Perrysburg. - C. W. E.

Indian Character

If any member of the Indian tribes committed a murder and escaped, they would follow him from year to year if necessary, until they would capture him, and then he would be condemned to die. The rule was that the nearest relative to the murdered man would have to take the life of the murderer. I believe that an occurrence of this kind took place at Tontogany. The wife of the murdered man was selected to slay her husband's murderer, and when the time came, she stepped forward and seized the long knife made for the purpose with its long shining blade, and standing in front of him she raised the knife and plunged it into his heart. They were following out the old law which said, "An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth; and ho who sheds man's blood by man shall his blood be shed." And as Paul says, "Those having not the written law, make a law among themselves."

When one of them gets old and sick so that he cannot hunt or fish, they would kill him so that they might not be burdened with him in their oft removals and excursions. I recollect one day an old Indian came to my father's. He could talk a little so we could understand him. He said, "Indian sick." Mother asked him, if sick why not stay with his people and have them take care of him. He said, "If Indian stay me die/^ And he was asked why and he said, *'They will kill Indian;" that "when Indian get sick and old and no hunt and no fish any more, they kill Indian."

We gave him something to eat and he went off and we saw him no more; but only a short time afterward a new made Indian grave was found near their camp and we always supposed that they found him and killed him as he said they would. Some one may ask how we could know that it was an Indian grave. It waa known by the peculiar marks on the trees and by the trinkets found on the stakes arovmd the grave. Any of the old pioneers can give a minute description of an Indian grave; when they bury one of their number they put all the paraphernalia for hunting and war in the grave; the l^ow and arrow, the tomahawk, and the scalping knife and belt, for they sajthey will need them to use in the "Happ} hunting grounds beyond the River."

Presbyterian Jubilee

Celebration in 1905 of the Fiftieth Anniversary of the Presbyterian Church in Bowling Green - Poem by Mrs. C. W. Evers -Mrs. Baldwin's Letter

THE jubilee services at the Presbyterian church celebrating the fiftieth anniversary of the organization of the church, were held in the latter part of November, 1905. In his address Rev. E. E. Rogers gave an interesting history of the church, from its organization of thirteen members, no one of whom were then living in Bowling Green, Many letters of regret were read from members in distant localities.

A letter was read, written by Mrs. Jane Baldwin, wife of the first minister of the church. At that time she was over eiglity years of age. From that letter we quote :

With pleasure I comply with your request that 1 write some account of the early history of the cliurch my husband organized and was for ten years the first pastor of - a history full of delightful reminiscence and events which are as fresh and distinct in memory as are the scenes of yesterday.

Fifty years ago Bowling Green had but one building that could by courtesy, be called a church. This was small and unattractive and was used during the week for entertainments of various kinds and often on Sabbath morning the odor of the atmosphere indicated the character of the gathering of the previous evening.

tliere was a separation for the men seated on one side and the women on the other. Hymn books were few in number and the hymn, if not a familiar one, was generally "lined" by the minister.

The building was owned by the Methodist church and we were kindly permitted to occupy it, on alternate Sabbaths, and our congregations were practically the same, as there was no other service in the town.

Family reitnions and social gatherings were frequent and informal. The quilting bee and the hitsking party varied the monotony of country life. In time ofsickness or when the Angel of Death Ijroitght distress and affliction neighborly kindness and sympathy were itnfailing and abundant.

From its beginning Bowling Green constantly, and more or less rapidly, increased its population and was fast becoming the business center of the surrounding country and even at that early day, some, with prophetic vision, were inclined to look forward when it would become the county seat of W^ood county. Our church shared in its prosperity and increased in members and in influence.

With growing impatience we eagerly looked forward to the completion of our house of worship, which with great self denial and sacrifice, was being erected on the lot where the present beautiful church now stands.

It was an occasion of great joy when we felt that we had a home of our very own. It was dedicated February 8, 1860, with no indebtedness except for the $200 loaned by the Church Erection Board, and this was paid in annual installments. At the evening service of the dedication, I well remember our delightful sttrpriso in finding our church lighted with kerosene oil. It seemed like

Mr. and Mrs. S. L. Boughton were among the most prominent and active members in the building np and the welfare of the Presbyterian church. Mr. Boughton assisted in the organization of the Sunday school, on the 8th of April, 1860, was its first superintendent, and as such continued for a period of 25 years or more.

The first communion set used by the church was the gift of Mr. Baldwin. This was in use for eighteen years, until 1873, when the church received the present of a communion set from the Sunday school of the First Presbyterian church of rtica, N. Y.

Life Of A Recluse

AMONG the few who settled on the sand ridges which skirt the old Keeler Prairie in Plain township, was Abram D. Edgerton, a young man, about 22 years of age, who came out from Ashtabula county with his father and stepmother in the year 1834. The Edgertons, like the Holiingtons, found shelter with the Mitchells, who had just come in until they built a cabin, which stood on the north side of the Weston ridge road at the place known as Carr's corners. The father of young Edgerton soon sickened and died, and some years after he and his step-mother sold out their possession to Joshua Carr, and the step-mother went to Michigan friends, where she died.

A1)ram, who was quite a general favorite among tlie early settlers, remained here, for he had no other home; in fact no relatives except a brother who had located at Baton Rouge, Louisiana.

Edgerton was of a very social turn at times and was a mechanical genius; just such a man as was invaluable in a pioneer settlement. He could "tinker" a clock, solder a tin pan, fix a gun, set and splint a bone, lance an arm or carbuncle, tell a good story, sit up with the sick, teach writing school - in fact, do almost anything that was necessary to be done, and "Brom," as he was called, was welcome to dinner or a night's lodging wherever night chanced to overtake him in the settlement. When Bowling Green started up he engaged in the capacity of clerk in the store of L. C. Locke for some time, after which he taught a term or so of school. He was a fair English scholar and an elegant penman. He then engaged in house-painting as a trade, and accumulated considerable property. At one time he made an expensive tour south in search of his brother, who had died in the meantime of yellow fever. After learning this fact he returned and was more unsettled than ever. This left him without father, mother, brother or sister - in fact, Avithout any kinsmen except some New York cousins whom he liad never seen.

ever known to express any religious views and he seldom, in later life, attended worship. He was singularly shy and reticent in the presence of women. He was social and pleasant to those females of his early acquaintance, but preferred if possible to avoid the general society of women. It could hardly be called an aversion, but it amounted to almost that for it grew upon him and for the last 15 years of his life he lived by himself wholly alone, without the company of man, woman, dog or cat. He did his own cooking, washing and mending; occupying his spare time at odd jobs of clock "tinkering" and other light mechanical work. He seemed perfectly contented and happy and but seldom would accept the hospitality of friends, and then only as he made one of his periodical visiting rounds among the old settlers.

At one time he became infatuated with the gilt-edged stories told of Florida and her orange groves, sold his little property and like the adventurer Ponce De Leon, made a fruitless trip in the "Land of Flowers," only to return moneyless and disgusted with the home of the mosquitoes, alligators and countless swarms of gnats and midges in that semi-tropical country. He then "bached" it in a little shanty near town and some years after took charge of the Findlay club house at Station Island on the Maumee, at the request of the owners, and seemed to pass an easy, hermit-like life in fishing and shooting; making a few dollars for "pin money" by letting out club boats to little pleasure parties through the warm season.

He became impressed with the idea that a large portion of the Station Island was yet in the United States government, and was so strong in the belief that he borrowed money and made a journey to Washington to investigate the title, but he was disappointed and his projected possession came to naught and left him in quite straitened circumstances. To make matters worse a dropsical affection seized upon him from which time he was crippled in his limbs and gradually failed until he was unable to leave the club house. In this extremity the proudspirited old man was a pitiable object.

He dreaded the thought of the poor house or of being an object of charity. He declined to be removed to the home of any of his old friends lest he should make them trouble, for which he could not compensate them. A kind neighbor, Mr. Vollmer, for some weeks went each night and remained with him till morning, lest he should die alone, and each day sent him such necessaries as he thought would be acceptable. He grew worse but still refused to be removed until at last, his old friend, John Whitehead, of Tontogany, went to the club house with a wagon and bed, determined to bring him away.

The old man bowed his head and broke into tears, crying like a child, the first time he had ever been known to give up. After a few moments he quietly gave some brief directions about some of his affairs, and consented to go with his friends, where he was kindly cared for and nursed until his death in 1880. He was bright and cheerful, and remained conscious until the last.

He was a man of many singular peculiarities. He possessed a high order of intelligence, in many respects was devoted and faithful to his friends, and especially devoted to the memory of his deceased mother, who died when he was less than 20 years old. He had in one of his trunks, what was once a beautiful silk dress, the property of his mother, and the dress in which she was married. This he treasured as carefully as if it had been gold or precious gems. It is

Connected with his early life - a love affair, which, if known, would explain much of the singular life of this old man whose last days were saddened with the thought that he was without home, kinsmen or natural protectors.

In the old Plain cemetery in an almost forgotten grave, rests the ashes of a lady, who was once the bright, cherished idol and admiration of him whose sad story we have told. He loved her with a devotion that knew no bounds and could brook no disappointment, and the gossips of that day say that she did not regard him with indifference, but he failed to gain her hand more through what a cavalryman would call a lack of soldiery dash, than through any other cause. Edgertou, like many other young men.

lacked the courage to make a gallant, bold dash in cavalier-like style, such as would carry the heart and hand of a black-eyed, black-haired maiden of those pioneer days. This prairie belle was not without suitors, one of whom soon supplanted the bashful, hesitating Edgerton and carried her off.

She lived many years and seemed happy, but not so he who once loved her and still in the depths of his heart loved her and when she died the canker of sorrow preyed upon him, but no murmur escaped his lips. A few words which he dropped a short time before his death to an old acquaintance and friend furnishes a key to his untold secret and explains somewhat the story of his fickle, purposeless, though harmless career. His book is closed forever. He will be remembered kindly among all the old pioneers as a kind neighbor, a faithful friend and an inoffensive citizen. - C. W. E.

Successful Scheme

A WOLF incident is told in the Wood County Tribune by J. F. Dubbs, illustrative of the schemes the settlers isometimes resorted to, to make an honest dollar in those days when money was so scarce. Across the swamp in Jackson township, lived his uncle, John Dubbs, who raised stock and the wolves gave him much trouble. He finally located their hiding place in the wilderness where Deshler now stands, and built a wolf pen of logs, so that when a wolf jumped down through a hole left in the top, to get the bait, which had been

One day as the great bear hunter, Sam Edwards, and his son, were passing that way on one of their great chases, he came to a halt at the wolf pen where Uncle John had a wolf entrapped which he was trying to take alive.

"Why not kill him and save the bother," said Edwards. "Well, sir," said Uncle John, "I find that my pen is across the Henry county line. Wood county gives a bounty of $10 and Henry county does not, and I am not going to bring Wood county wolves over to Henry county to kill for nothing."

The wolf was taken alive by Uncle John, carried over to Wood county, where it no doubt had been boarding on Uncle John's live stock, and its thieving scalp soon after adorned the wall of Uncle John's cabin.

A Load Of Coons

THAT old-time pioneer, J. F. Dubbs, of Milton Center, had a wide experience in the hardships of Wood county's early days, and could tell many reminiscences of the hard winters, the sickly season, the loss of crops, the destitution, the lack of roads, markets, schools, or medical aid when sickness or accident came, all of which bore on the new settler with disheartening weight. Some perished from disease; some fled; others staid and fought it out.

In writing to the Wood County Tribune, Mr. Dubbs says when his father died, he and his brother John, both young fellows then, bought together 160 acres of land in Jackson township, on easy terms of payment.

They worked hard and got out 40 or 50 acres of crop, but a wet season swept away all their labor and seed and a payment of $200 and interest at 6 per cent on $1,000 was to be met the following spring. They didn't know what to do. There were no employment bureaus then - no chance to sell one's labor for cash - nobody had any cash in fact.

So the boys possessed themselves of a couple of hunting dogs, one of which had been trained to locate a coon-tree by scent - that is, the keen-scented animal, in passing through the forests day time or night, would locate the trees where the coon had taken up its winter home. The wet seasons in Liberty prairie, wliile not favorable to grain crops, were very propitious for the frogs, and that means a good coon, muskrat and mink crop. By spring when their notes were due they had caught over two hundred coon, besides other varmints wearing valuable fur. They started early in the morning and came in late at night. The coon would be frozen so they could not be skinned, by the time they reached the cabin at night. So the boys threw them in the wagon box at the cabin door and covered them, and soon the wagon box was full of unskinned coons.

One day a fur buyer came along and gave them $280 for the lot, and the note and interest was paid, and John and Jim were happy and had a lot of sport as well as hard work.

JOHNNY APPLESEED has a monument, says the Chicago Times-Herald. Future generations shall know of the unique mission of John Chapman, the Apostle "of Apples. Mansfield, Ohio, has rescued his memory from oblivion and embalmed it in a statue. The story of his gentle, beneficent life is the record of one of the quaintest, sweetest characters produced in the pioneer west. Next to his religion, "Johnny Appleseed" held apples to be the choicest blessing vouchsafed to man. He believed in the salvation of health by apples. He preached the gospel of apples, and he practiced it. He made the young hinds in Ohio and Indiana bloom with tlic fragrant white l)lossoms of countless apple trees. He added untold wealth and happiness to generations born and unborn. Sage and simple, crank and genius, seer and vagrant, "Johnny Appleseed" was a penniless philanthro- pist, a humble benefactor of - millions. The cider mills of Pennsylvania were his Mecca, and appleseeds his quest. From every pilgrimage to the east he brought back precious sacks of seeds. With his own hands he cleared forest space for his nurseries, and when the trees were two or three years old, he distributed them broadly, sometimes in exchange for a bit of clothing, but more often as a gift. Gentle and lovable, friend of white and redskin, the apple missionary was as one crying in the wilderness. He went whither he would, welcomed by all, and he dotted the woods and prairies of his kingdom with apple orchards.

"Johnny Appleseed" carried on his work of distributing apple trees and appleseeds through Ohio and the Maumee Valley for twenty years or more, and then he followed the star of empire westward to continue his mission in the newer field of Indiana, where he died in 1845.

"Appleseed Johnny" was a hero, too. During the war of 1812 Mansfield was frightened by rumors of a hostile attack. The nearest soldiers were at Mount Vernon, 30 miles away, where Capt. Douglass had a troop. When a call was made for a volunteer to carry a message to Mount Vernon, "Johnny" stepped forward. The journey had to be made at night over a new road, that was little better than a trail, and through a country swarming with blood-thirsty Indians.

The unarmed Apostle of Apples sped through the woods like a runner, and came back in the morning with a squad of soldiers. It was an incident worthy a poem, but has been almost forgotten.

The death of this strange missionary was in keeping with his life-work. The latter years of his life were spent near Ft. Wayne, where, although 70 years old, he continued to grow and scatter apple trees. He learned that some cattle had broken down the brushwood fence of a nursery he had planted. It was winter, and the nursery was twenty miles away,- but the brave old crusader started out on foot to save his beloved trees. He worked for hours in cold and snow, repairing the fence, and started to walk back home. He fainted from fatigue and took refuge in the cabin of a settler. It happened the pioneer had come from Ohio, and knew of "Johnny's" work in that state. He welcomed the weak old man, who asked only a bit of bread and a place on the floor to sleep. The next morning "Johnny" was delirious, and soon afterward he died of pneumonia. He was buried near by and a rude board placed over his grave, but it has long since crumbled into dust, and the site of the burial is unknown.

The following was written by James Newton Matthews, and dedicated to the American Horticultural Society, and read at a meeting in Austin, Texas, by Miss Regan:

Mayor Andrew Roach

AFTER a long and painful illness, Mayor Andrew Roach passed from life at his Perrysburg home on Saturday morning, September 14, 1901, diabetes being the cause of death.

Mr. Roach was born in Ireland, in 1833, and had he lived until the 5th of ISTovember, would have been 68 years old. His parents moved to Kingston, Canada, in 183T, whore he lived for 10 years. In 1848 he moved to this state, and for several years was engaged in railroad building, and in 1859 located in Perrysburg, where he has since resided.

He was twice married. To the first union three daughters and two sons were born, all of whom preceded him to the world beyond except one sqn, Edward, aged 43, who resides in Dayton. His second wife died a number of years ago leaving one son, Andrew, Jr., now Sheriff of Wood county, who with Edward Roach of Dayton, are the only children who survive the father, and they, with one sister of the deceased, Mrs. Birk of Dayton, were present at his bedside at the time of dissolution.

During his life Mr. Roach had been a very active citizen. In politics he was an ardent Democrat and at various times held the offices of Mayor, Councilman, member of school board, library board, and gas trustee. In every position he held he has been a credit to himself and the people he represented.

No. 123, Free and Accepted Masons, since February 16, 1863, and for three years was Secretary of the lodge, and during this long term had always been held in high esteem by his brethren.

In his earlier life he was engaged in railroad building, and was in charge of the construction of the Dayton and Michigan railroad from Lima to Toledo and for more than 30 years was roadmaster for the company.

The funeral services were conducted at the late home on Sunday in charge of Phoenix lodge of Masons with Rev. Adams as chaplain and Bro. A. R. Williams as acting Master.

The services were attended by a large number of people from Perrysburg and neighboring towns - the members of the council. Clerk and Marshal attending in a body.

One writer, in describing the sieges of Ft. Meigs, makes the statement that after the first siege, which ended May 8, 1813, Gen. Proctor embarked his troops and sailed away to Maiden, but that he returned ten days later, with a force of 5,000 whites and Indians, and that the second siege was abandoned May 28. This is an error. The fort was invested the second time on July 21. On the 26th Tecumseh resorted to the trick of a sham battle expecting to draw out the. garrison, but his scheme failed, and on July 27, 1813, the second siege ended.

The River Raisin Massacre

THE ignominious surrender of Detroit by Gen. Hull in August, 1812, caused the whole Michigan Territory, for the time being to pass under the control of the British. Under these conditions to recover and hold possession of the territory which Hull's unfortunate surrender at Detroit had transferred to British domination, and expel the invad- <^rs therefrom, and at the same time protect the helpless pioneers from the torch and scalping knife, was the task imposed upon (ieneral Harrison, a task which a less fearless and intrepid leader would have looked upon with apprehension and dismay.

Senator Burrows says the execution of this plan involved the penetration of an almost trackless wilderness, invested on every side by hostile savages intent only upon murder and rapine. General Harrison was not oljlivious to the diilficulties and dangers of the situation. Replying to an inquiry as to when the army would advance, he said: "I am not able to fix any period for the advance of the troo])s to Detroit. It is pretty evident that it cannot be done upon proper principles until the frost shall have become so severe as to enable us to use the rivers and the margin of the lakes for the transportation of the baggage upon the ice. To go forward through a swam]\v wilderness for nearly 200 miles in wagons or on pack horses, which are to carry their own provisions, is absolutely impossible. My present plan is to occupy Upper Sandusky and accumulate at that place as much provision and forage as jiossible, to be taken from thence upon sleds to tlu' River Raisin."

Winchester was assigned to the command of the advance with a force of some twelve hundred men, composed of the Seventeenth United States regulars, and the First, Second and Fifth Kentucky Volunteers, and the First Kentucky Riflemen. It will thus be seen that the troops of Kentucky bore a most conspicuous part in the initial movement of the campaign.

It had been determined by the General in command as a step in his advance upon the enemy, to concentrate his forces on the Maumee, and to that end General Winchester was directed to take position at the Rapids, fortify the place and hold it as a depot for supplies and a base of operations of the army in its advance into the enemy's country.

On the 10th of January, 1813, Winchester, in the execution of his orders, reached the Rapids of the Maumee, established and fortified his camp and awaited the arrival of supplies and the remainder of the command. While thus encamped, disquieting rumors came from the inhabitants of Frenchtown, a little hamlet of less than thirty families, and where the thriving city of Monroe now stands, to the effect that the British forces at Maiden, across the border, only eighteen miles distant, were about to move on the defenseless inhabitants of Frenchtown. Upon the confirmation of these rumors an a])])eal was made to General Winchester to go to the defense of the panic-stricken ])eople. General Harrison was sixty-five miles away, and therefore could not be consulted, and the troops were impatient for the advance, and General Winchester, responding to the humane im])ulse of his troops, on the 18th of January, 1813, ordered Colonels Lewis and >\.llen, with GHO men, '-to hasten to their dt'fense, attack the enemv. l)i'at thnu and take possession of Frenchtown and hold it." Wb.en the

American forces reached Frenchtown they were confronted by 200 Canadian militia with their 400 Indian allies, prepared to resist the consummation of this purpose.

Though confronting an enemy superior in numbers, Winchester's forces crossed the Eiver Eaisin on the ice and in a fierce engagement drove the British and their savage allies from the town and took possession of the abandoned camp of the enemy. The conduct of our troops on this occasion elicited from the historian the declaration that the discipline of the troops ''amply supported the double character of Americans and Kentuckians." The twelve Americans killed and the fifty-five wounded testify to the severity of this engagement.

Although a temporary victory had been won, yet the position of our troops was exceedingly perilous, being only twenty miles from Maiden, the headquarters of the enem3^ from which point reinforcements would be readily and swiftly forwarded. Yet the heroic band, after an informal council of war, deliberately determined to hold the place at all hazards and await reinforcements.

Winchester was immediately advised of conditions, and on the 19th of January, with 300 men, hastened to the support of his decimated forces at Frenchtown, arriving there on the 20th. On the following day, the 21st, news was brought to Winchester that a large force of British and Indians had left Maiden and were on the march towards Frenchtown and had already reached Stony Creek, and would be at the village before dayliglit the following morning. General Winchester refused to credit these rumors and confidence and repose settled down over the doomed American camp. Before the break of the following day the report of a sentinel's musket sounded the alarm and dispelled the illusion of security, and the roar of shell and rattle of musketry, mingled with the yells of the savages, proclaimed the presence of Proctor's forces, and sounded the

Let History record the slaughter that followed: ''No rule of civilized warfare was observed. Blood and scalps were the chief objects for which the Indians fought. They seemed disposed not to take any prisoners. A party of fifteen or twenty, under Lieutenant Garrett, after retreating about a mile, were compelled to surrender, when all but the young commander were killed- and scalped. Another party, of forty men, were more than half murdered under similar circumstances. Colonel Allen, wlio had been wounded in the thigh in the attempt to rally the troops, after abandoning all hope, and escaping about two miles in the direction of the Maumee, was compelled, by sheer exhaustion, to sit down upon a log. He was observed by an Indian chief, who, perceiving his rank, promised him protection if he would surrender without resistance. He did so. At the same moment two other savages approached with murderous intent, when, with a single blow of his sword, Allen laid one of them dead upon the ground. His companion instantly shot the Colonel dead. 'He had the honor,' it was said, 'of shooting one of the first and greatest citizens of Kentucky/ "

The last act, however, of this horrible tragedy was yet to be performed. In the struggle Winchester had been taken prisoner, and Proctor, by threats of further slaughter and extermination of his entire command, induced Winchester to sign an order directed to Major Madison, the next in command, and who was still heroically defending his position, to sur- render the entire force as prisoners of war. This order borne by one of General Winchester's staff, accompanied by General Proctor himself under a flag of truce, was carried to Major Madison, who refused to obey the order, saying, '"It has been customary for the Indians to massacre the wounded and prisoners after a surrender; I shall, therefore, not agree to any capitulation which General Winchester may direct, unless the safety and protection of all the prisoners shall be stipulated/' To this refusal Proctor replied, "Sir, do YOU mean to dictate to ME?'' Madison answered, "I mean to dictate for myself, and we prefer selling our lives as dearly as possible rather than be massacred in cold blood."

Thereupon Proctor promised protection to all the prisoners, and pledged his honor as a soldier to the performance of the obligation. It is needless to say that the pledge was not redeemed.

Proctor"s plighted faith, and without reciting the deeds of individual heroism, which characterized the actors in this final scene, the awful truth stands recordi'd that on this field, out of a force of 934 Americans, only 33 escaped, while nearly 4U0 were massacred and the balance taken prisoners.

Thus ended a conflict which will go down the ages as one of the bloodiest tragedies in the annals of war. The result here, although our forces were defeated, opened the way later for the advance of our army, the recovery of Detroit, the invasion of Canada and the defeat of the British forces on the Tliames, with the death of Tecumseh.

Ann Austin, of Cygnet, aged 103 years, died some years ago. She was one of the band of Wyandot Indians who came to Wood county nearly 70 years ago. She was the queen of the little Indian settlement.

The Battle In Canada

IN an address by Col. Bennett 11. Young, delivered at Monroe, some years since, he thus describes the closing scenes of the battle of the Thames that ended Gen. Harrison's remarkable campaign :

Shelby and his Kentucky army reported to Gen. Harrison at Perrysburg on the 14th of September, 1813, and remained at Put-in-Bay until the 27th, when leaving their homes at Portage river, they embarked on Commodore Perry's fleet, landed at Maiden on English soil and began the pursuit of Proctor and Tecumseh, who after Perry's glorious victory began a retreat eastward toward Hamilton.

With the 3,000 Kentuckians Gen. Harrison and Gov. Shelby began on October 1st the hunt of Proctor and Tecumseh in earnest. The dismounted militia vied with Johnson's regiment in making the pursuit vigorous. Many portions of the march were passed at half run, and one day they covered twenty-five miles. Thamesville was a small settlement east of Detroit on the English highway from Hamilton to Detroit, 63 miles east of the latter place and 12 miles from Lake Erie. Here on the afternoon of October, 1813, the English and Indians were brought to bay.

The.Pioxeer

regiment. They had been at Eaisin. These he placed on the main road; Tecumseh had 1,800 Indians; these were assigned to a place in a swamp at right angles to the main road. Johnson''^ Kentucky mounted riflemen, 1,200 in number, held the front line of the American advance, while the five brigades of dismounted men were a few hundred feet behind. Proctor was with the British forces 1,500 feet away from the front of his line.

The hour for action had come. Behind, weary marchings of four hundred miles, full of self-denial and unchanging privations, before them, enemies arousing an immeasurable hate. Every heart was full of memories of savage brutality and cruelty to relatives, friends and fellow citizens for a quarter of a century. The horrible massacre of the Eaisin, its indescribable barbarity and its fiendish inhumanity was painted on every soul, and the spirit of its slain victims seemed to ride side by side in martial procession with these living horsemen, fate's avengers, chosen to inflict punishment on its ferocious perpetrators.

The atrocities of Fort Meigs were not forgotten, and the cry of the Kentuckians, tortured and murdered by the savage red men within the sight of British officers, and coolly tomahawked or shot while helpless and defenseless in their very presence, seemed to beseech heaven for a just and complete revenge upon those guilty of such unspeakable horrors.

Among Kentuckians now aligning for conflict were men who had looked upon all that was awful at Raisin and terrible at Fort Meigs. Some had shared in the humiliation of Detroit's surrender, and had witnessed their country's flag and honor sullied by Gen Hull's cowardice and imbecility, while others had endured the trials^ insults and torture of British prisons. All were anim.-itpd by the highest courage and truest patriotism. The generous impulses of brave and chivalrous souls impelled every man to the noblest discharge of duty, and every ear was listening with absorbing interest for the sound which should call them to battle with their detested foes.

In the fierce charge there was but one cry oft repeated, but rising each time in sharper and quicker tones; "Remember the Raisin - Remember the Raisin."

These avenging warriors, catching the enthusiasm and delirium of combat, rose high in their stirrups, and plunged their spurs into the flanks of their chargers as they approached their enemy, still more furiously, waved their guns aloft and with their voices made stronger and stronger by the excitement of their impetuosity, cried the more vehemently, "Remember the Raisin." "liemember the Raisin."

A quarter of a mile away at the rear, in the edge of the forest, along the trail, was the commander of the British regulars. General Henry A. Proctor, who was responsible for the revolting butchcry and brutality at Raisin and Meigs, came to Canada as the Colonel of a British regiment, and his atrocities have never been reproved by his government. For his conduct at Raisin he had been promoted to a brigadier-general.

His ear was quick to detect danger. He knew his fate if the Kentuckians (many of whom had sworn that he should not be taken alive) should capture him.

He distinctly heard the tramp of Johnson's mounted men, and his ear caught that portentous and to him fateful cry, the Raisin." Dismayed, he watched and waited for the result. He saw one line brushed out of the path of the horsenuMi or rush in confusion upon the second line. He be- held this last line disappear and the black hunting shirts and grey hunting breeches of the Kentuckians as they dismounted and turned upon his stricken and helpless grenadiers, and then with his cowardly conscience impelling him, he turned his horse's head eastward and accompanied by a small guard of horsemen precipitately fled toward Burlington. Hard pressed by Major DeVall Payne, he abandoned his baggage and followers and fled through the forest to escape capture. His ignominious conduct brought upon him the contempt of his associates. He was tried by court martial, disgraced, and deprived of pay for six months, and was publicly reprinumded by his superiors by order of his government.

This was formed in two columns, on horseback, while one company was dismounted and on foot placed in front of the right column, which was led by Col. Johnson. The front of each column was something like 500 feet. At the head of the column led by Johnson was a company on foot. While in front of those mounted was what was known as the "Forlorn Hope,"' in the courage and gallantry of which on that day was written one of the most heroic and sublimely brave acts which had ever been recorded of Kentucky men.

These twenty men with Col. R. M. Johnson, and the pioneer William Whitley, at once advanced to the front. The main line halted for a brief space, until this advance could assume position, and when once they were placed, at the command, "Forward, march," they quietly and calmly rode to death.

In. the thickets of the swamp, in which lay Tecumseh, and his red soldiers, they peered in vain for a foe. Not a man stirred, but the ominous silence betokened only the more dreadful fire when the moment of contact should come.

Along the narrow space they advanced. Stunted bushes and matted and deadened grass impeded their horses' feet, but these heroes urged their steeds forward with rapid walk, seeking the hidden foe in the morass that skirted the ground upon which they had aligned.

A loud, clear, savage voice rang out the word "Fire."' The sharp crackling of half a hundred rifles was the response,, and then the deafening sound of a thousand shots filled the air. The smoke concealed those who fired the guns but the murderous effect was none the lessterrible. Of the twenty, one alone escaped unhurt or failed to be unhorsed. A mass of fallen, struggling horses, a company of wounded, dying men lay sideby side. The bleeding beasts whinneyed to dead masters, and wounded masters laid their hands on the quivering bodies of their faithful steeds. Of the twenty, fifteen were dead, or to die. Their leader with a dozen wounds, still sat erect, his judge advocate, Theobald, close to his side. The remainder was lost in the battle's confusion.

The "Forlorn Hope"" had met its fate. Its mission was to receive the fire of the savages, when their fellows and comrades might safely charge upon the red men with guns unloaded. Its purpose had been fulfilled.

The five hundred and fifty men of Johnson's battalion were reinforced by quite a number of volunteer infantrymen from Trotter's, Donaldson's and Simrall's regiment, who hearing the fir-

For a quarter of an hour the result of the battle seemed in doubt. Eighteen hundred Indians in the swamp and on their chosen battlefield, behind trees and fallen logs, did not hesitate to throw down the gage of battle to the six thousand Kentuckians who now advanced to the assault.

As the lines were pushed along through the morass, Col. Johnson saw behind a fallen tree, an Indian chief, who with vigorous words of command and loud cheers and most earnest encouragement was urging the red men to stand firm against the assaults of the white men.

At the head of the column opposing these men, Johnson still sitting upon his white mare, rode around the tree and advanced upon the red man. At the first fire he had lost by a wound the use of his left hand, in which he would carry his bridle. The Indian placing his gun to his shoulder immediately fired and added another to the many wounds already received by the gallant Kentuckian .and then having exhausted his trusty rifle, with uplifted tomahawk, he advanced upon the white man, who, although wounded, was now riding upon him fearlessly and rapidly. The savage jerking his tomahawk from his side, and waiting for no assistance except his own strong arm backed by his courageous soul, rushed upon Col. Johnson to strike him from his horse, but when he had advanced within four feet, Johnson letting his horse loose, seized his pistol from his helpless left hand and fired its contents into the breast of the Indian. Being loaded with one bullet and three buckshot, at such close range, and piercing the heart of the Indian, he instantly fell dead. Some said it was Tecumseh.

The red men with amazement looked upon the sudden and unexpected death of their valiant chief. They heard no more his shouts of encouragement, saw no more the gallant wave of his hand, and with utter alarm and despair, and with a great cry of disappointment they rushed from the battlefield.

Tecumseh was dead. The Indian power was crushed. Proctor was in cowardly flight and disgrace as a man and soldier. The red men had by a lesson never to be forgotten, felt the power of the white man's strong arm, and learned that no British agency could save him when the white man undertook his punishment. The red men were humbled and their hopes destroyed. The great northwest was free. Michigan was the white man's possession by right of conquest, and by the power of the sword had been made forever a part of the American Eepublic.

The British soldiers who had command at the shameful massacre of these knightly Kentuckians, were now prisoners and were to march as captives over this battlefield, where their barbaric cruelty and brutality had done so much to blacken the name and honor of their nation, and in the end to be prisoners of war in the penitentiary of the state wliose soldiers they had ruthlessly allowed to be murdered, while their savage allies whom they had incited to kill, burn and seal]), whik' men. wliile women and even children, whose only ott'ense was io be an American, were hiding in the pathless woods of Canada and Michigan to avoid the white man's wrath.

James H. Pierce

JAMES PIERCE, of Perrysburg, excommissioner of Wood county, to whom more than any other individual are tlie farmers of Wood county indebted for tlie present magnificent system of ditching, died very suddenly and unexpectedly at his home on Sunday afternoon. May 6, 1894.

Whether through premonition, or otherwise, is not known, but previous to Sunday Mr. Pierce had requested that all members of his family be invited to dinner on that day, which was accordingly done.

In the forenoon he repaired to a room on the upper floor, which he was wont to occupy during the daytime, either to read or sleep. At dinner time his grandson went to summon him, but finding him asleep, he returned and the meal was eaten in his absence. An hour and a half later his daughter Mattie went to the room, and seeing her father lying in a reclining position she approached him, only to be horrified by the discovery that he was dead.

Drs. Hamilton and Rheinfrank were immediately summoned but found that life was extinct; he had probably been dead about an hour, death coming as a sweet sleep without pain or struggle.

Mr. Pierce was a native of New York State, where he was born December 19, 1831. When three years of age his parents moved to Blissfield, Mich. In 1846, he moved to Shelby county, where he commenced life in a practical way, and from the age of 13 to 26 years he was employed on the Wabash canal, the latter part of which time he was captain of a packet boat, the "Sidney Belle."

On March 6, 1855, he was united in marriage to Miss Sarah Guy of Sidney, Ohio, who with a family of six daughters survive him. In 1857 he came to Perrysljurg township, and located on the ]>iko where he engaged in the lumber business, and continued in it until 1872, when he was appointed Commissioner to fill the unexpired term (3 months) occasioned by the death of Commissioner Eber Wilson. At the expiration of this term he was elected Commissioner for two years, and was afterward re-elected for two 3-year tenns, and has been regarded as one of the very best Commissioners who ever filled that important office in Wood county.

After that he served as Mayor of Perrysburg, and member of Board of Education of that village, and was again elected to the Union school board at the spring election and at the time of his death was also a member of the Board of Township Trustees.

His family consisted of a kind and loving wife, six daughters, Mrs. Emma -J. Norton^ Mrs. Carrie A. Thompson, Mrs. Jennie E. Priest, and Misses Frances A., ^lartha A., and Cora M. Pierce, all of whom were present at the time of his death.

Mr. Pierce was a member of Phoenix Lodge, No. 123, F. & A. M. of Perrysburg, and his funeral services were conducted by the members of that order, under the direction of Master John H. Thornton, the sermon being delivered by Rev. G. A. Adams, the chaplain of the lodge. A large number of the members of Phoenix lodge were in attendance and visiting members from neighboring towns were also present.

geoiis and a whole-souled man wherever you found him. He was one of the best known men of Wood county and filled a niche in public affairs which few men have had the honor to fill. For a number of years he had retired from active work, and was living contentedly, surrounded by most of his children.

The funeral was one of the largest ever held in the village. The floral offerings being numerous and of beautiful designs - the last tribute to a beloved and departed citizen, neighbor and friend. Every business house in the village was closed during the funeral. - Perry sburg Journal.

Judge H. H. Dodge

AFTER a lingering illness of several months the life of Hon. H. H. Dodge came to a peaceful close on Monday, May 16, 1904, about 3 o'clock p. m. Of late, says the Perrysburg Journal, Mr. Dodge had seemed to be in better spirits and health than for some months and a few days prior to his death visited relatives in Bowling Green in company with his wife, when he had a most enjoyable time. On Friday, May 13, he was stricken with paralysis from which he did not recover, but sank rapidly until death came as a happy release.

Henry H. Dodge was bom February 4, 1830, at Pompey Hill, Onondaga county, New York. He received his early education in his native town and at the age of 16 was sent to the St. John's College, conducted by the Jesuit Fathers, New York City, from which he was graduated in 1849. After a couple of years spent on the farm with his father he began the study of law with Victor Birdseye of Pompey Hill.

He came to Perrysburg in 1852 and finished his law studies with the firm of Spink & Murray, being admitted to the bar in 1855. Upon the death of Mr. Spink, Mr. Dodge became a partner of James Murray, which partnership continued until Mr. Murray's election as Attorney General of Ohio, in 1859. In 1860 he associated himself with the late James R. Tyler until 1869, then with Edson Goit, now deceased, and Jasher Pillars of Bowling Green.

Upon retiring from the bench he formed a partnership with John W. Canary of Bowling Green, which lasted until his removal to Perrysburg in December, 1897. Here he thought he might retrieve his health surrounded by the familiar scenes, in his old homestead, on the banks of the beautiful Maumee.

In 1857 he was united in marriage with Sarah Hodge Wilkinson, and to them were born two children, Mary E. the older, wife of Ernest G. Miller of Creede, Colorado, died in December, 1893, leaving two children Hobart and Mary to the care of her parents. Frederick G., J the younger, general agent for the Bloch 1 Bros. Tobacco company of Wheeling, West Virginia.

Judge Dodge was a devoted husband and father and was never happier than when surrounded by his family. He was a member of the Catholic church, strong in his religious beliefs, a con- J sciencious character. i crat of the Jackson school, and his counsel and assistance was always eagerly sought by and freely given to his colaborers in the cause of the party whose principles he esjDoused. He was always courteous and manly in his demeanor, warmly cherished friendship, and detested treachery with all the force of his strong mind.

"He enjoyed the highest esteem of all who were favored by his acquaintance, and he will be greatly missed by the bar and in the everyday walks of life. It can truthfully be said that mankind has been ennobled and the world made better by the life of Henry H. Dodge, who has gone to his rest with the universal respect of the people among whom he labored, and who were witnesses of the honor and uprightness of his daily life."

The Eevereud Father Griss of Fostoria, celebrated requiem high mass assisted by the Eeverend Father Schriener of Bowling Green, as deacon, and the Eeverend Father Mertes of Maumee as sub-deacon, who spoke feelingly on the life of the deceased.

The pall-bearers all ex-judges who associated with Judge Dodge at various times were Judge Geo. E. Seney and Judge John McCauley of Tiffin; Judge Geo. F, Pendleton of Findlay; Judge Frank Taylor, ISTorth Baltimore; Judge E. S. Parker, Bowling Green, and Col. Bope.

Tecumseh'S Contempt

It was at Ft. Miami that a quarrel occurred between Gen. Proctor and the Indian Chief Tecumseh. In the presence of Gen. Proctor and other British officers, the Indians robbed and tomahawked the American prisoners. It is said that the number killed without Proctor's interference at the close of the battle, fully equalled those slain on the field of battle. When the prisoners were inside the fort the Indians commenced loading their guns for a general slaughter. At this juncture Tecumseh rode up and inquired for Proctor.

Just above Waterville, at the lower end of Station Island, is a solid block of granite in a private burial ground. It is the resting place of the remains of "Eobert Dunlap, Soldier of the Kevolutionary War," born July 28, 1752, died July 25, 1836.

Major George Croghan

ON August 2, 1906, Fremont, in q, splendid manner, commemorated the defense of Fort Stephenson so galgantly and successfully accomplished hy the valiant Major George Croghan. The event was attended by thousands, and among them some of the most prominent men in public life. On that occasion the Croghan Bank directors issued the following sketch of the life of the hero of Ft. Stephenson:

August Second, 1813

George Croghan was born of distinguished ancestry, near Louisville, Kentucky, November 15 th, 1791. He was a boy of manly appearance and intelligence, and at a very early age developed a strong desire for military life.

He graduated at the college of William and Mary, Virginia, July 4th, 1810, and entered upon the study of law. In 1811, however, he enlisted as a private with the Kentucky volunteers under

Gen. Harrison; but before the decisive battle of Tippecanoe he was made an aide-de camp to Gen, Boyd, the second in command. Croghan displayed such remarkable courage in battle that, on the recommendation of Gen. Harrison, he was appointed a captain in the 17th U. S. Infantry.

In August, 1812, his command was ordered to accompany the troops under Gen. Winchester, which started from Kentucky to the relief of Gen. Hull at Detroit. Owing to Hull's disgraceful surrender, the plan of campaign was changed, and Winchester's command marched through the wilderness to assist Harrison in the relief of Fort Wayne, and then down the Maumee to Fort Defiance, in September, 1812. In December, Winchester started on the disastrous expedition which ended in the massacre at the Eivor Kaisin, January 23, 1813, leaving Croghan, in spite of his extreme youth, in command of the important post of Defiance.