Freedom Township (part 1 of 8)

Freedom Township

Freedom Township

IN the year 1833, Isaac Cable and his three sons, Silas, Benjamin and Jonathan, also Michae] Miller and Michael Myers, from near Canton, Stark county, Ohio, settled at New Rochester. Almost, at the same time a party of settlers, among whom were Henry Nailer. Michael N. Myers, Christian Shelley, Ashae] Towers, Henry Hahn, and several others came in from Lorain county and settled at Pemberville and above on the north fork of the river.

Most of the lands below the forks had been bought up by speculators, but most of the settlers at that time, could get good Lands near the river at government price, $1.25 per acre. Wood county was at that time in the Delaware land distriei. The Pembers came the next year. - lame- Pember bad previously married the daughter of Ashae! Towers, which circumstance, no doubt, was the cause of his locating in Wood county, as his father-in-law was the chief landed proprietor of what is now Pemberville.

first, and indeed for a long time, chills, shaking ague and intermittent fevers visited them each year, and at times there were not enough persons in the settlement to take care of the sick. But still they hoped for a better day, and kept courage and faith.

Late in the fall of 1834, there were barely enough able abodied men to raise a log school house at the Forks. At this raising, a petition was drawn up and signed, asking the commissioners for a separate township organization. Mr. 1 1 i iM in Pember, who now lives in Pemberville, and whom we hope may be spared many years yet, gave the township its name.

At the following December session, t be commissioners, Guy Nearing, James Wilkinson and John Pray, and John C. Spink, Auditor, beard the petition, and ordered the township set off in a separate organization, and that an election be held al the house of Michael \. Myers, the first Monday of the following April. Freedom at that time was a part of Perrysburg township. It is in date of organi/ai ion, the sixth township in the county.

Troy and Montgomery townships were organized at the same time, and held their first election on the same day. - O. W. Bvers in Log Cabin Sketches.

The Pioneer An Athlete

UNCLE GTJY BEARING took a subcontract from Contractor Beebe, on the Miami and Erie Canal. Contractor Beebe drew the money and appropriated it to his own use. He failed to pay bearing, who was thereby ruined, having mortgaged his property. While his canal work was going on he became canal men. and while passing up the river with a tram he was attacked by seven [rishmen with clubs, lie whipped live of them, bui had seven of his ribs broken and dislocated from the backbone, from the effects of which he died about a year a tier, in is pi. Before being taken down with the fever at Providence, he had made greal preparation to take part in the big Harrison gathering at Fort Meigs. He had a buckeye log cut on (iirty's Island above Napoleon. The log was of Large size and 50 feet long, which he s 'in to Fort Meigs.

Bitten By A Snake

IN the year 1820, Anthony Ewing, a young lad. was bitten by a snake, and was badly poisoned. Doctor Conant of Manmee. was sent for, who came up to Waterville, and tailed for a guide to take him across the river over the Rapids. Noah Weed, then a boy, mounted a pony and brought the Doctor over. The boy was most terribly swollen and spotted, and Dr. Conant failed to give any relief. About this time an old Indian came over from the Indian village opposite. The Indian proposed to cure the lad for' a gallon of whisky, and his proposition was readily agreed to. The Indian soon began to gather seme herbs, and administered his restorative to the boy. The cure was a success. But the Indian concealed his operations in effecting the cure from the white medicine man. Dr. Conant afterwards gave the Indian three gallons of whisky for his recipe.

THE glory id' the Maumee with its pirogues, boatmen and fur traders; its Indian hunters and trappers with their canoes, peltries, pappooses and squaws, is a thing of the past. Even the sturgeon, muscalonge and ponderous cattish of other days are gone, and the waters of the old river, whose name is rich in Indian romance ami historic lore - on whose hanks the honor of our nation's flag and the fate of the great northwest hung in the balance, amid the clash of arms and roar of cannon, is now polluted and muddy from vast black alluvial deposits sent in by the interminable cordon and net work of artificial water courses and ditches tributary to its channel. It is no longer its natural self. It is a destructive, raging, mad torrent to-day: to-morrow its naked rocks and unsightly, slimy bed scarce deserve the name of river.

Scrap-Book Simon Kenton

Not far from this town is Rush Lake, and not far from that is the head waters of the Scioto and Mad rivers. Near by, too, the Auglaize, the head source of the Maumec, starts on its tortuous course to Lake Erie. It was on a high peak on this divide where Wayne's faithful scouts lay secreted and discovered the massing of the Indian forces under Little Turtle, to crush Mad Anthony, then marching his army to the Maumee country, as he had previously done to St. Clair. The wily chieftain, however, never got an opportunity to ambush Wayne, nor ever caught him napping.

heart ne'er felt a fear." The iron nerve of this remarkable man during the soul trying adventures of 40 years' experience among hostile Indians in the wilds of Virginia, Kentucky and Ohio, would suffice for a regiment of ordinary heroes. During his captivity among the Indians, lie was made to run tin gauntlei eight times, and three times he was tied to the stake for torture by fire. At this very little town, Wappatomiia. he was once condemned to die. His face was painted black, and he had council house, surrounded by his persecutors, a dejected, friendless being. lb- understood not a word of what his fiendish captors .-aid, hut knew the dreadful import of their proceedings. At that time a white man came "in from a distant expedition with some scalps and learned of the preparation for the torture of a white prisoner. He addressed the prisoner in English and asked him his name. When he heard Kenton's name he fe|] upon his neck and cried aloud. It was the

He and Kenton had been fast friends and scouts together in the Dunmore war. The Indian warriors; looked on the with amazement. What a theme for an artist's brush the portrayal of that scene would afford, or what a startling stage scene, Girty, who was a bloodthirsty enemy of the whites, rose to his feet, and in the most earnest appeal to the savages in behalf of the- prisoner, an old friend and brother whom he had not seen for many snow.-, succeeded in getting up a division of sentiment and saved the life of the prisoner, though a portion of the savages were crazy mad for the torture to go on. This is the only instance refolded of Girty in which he showed mercy to a prisoner. In a few days thereafter Kenton was again condemned and sent to Sandusky for execution, but this time a British agent saved his life. It seems a little strange that the old hero should leave Kentucky in after life and settle down in the very village where his narrow escape from a horrid death occurred 40 years lx-fore. Perhaps this very fortunate escape made him regard the spot with a kindly feeling.

November 8, 1900, a monument was unveiled at Mansfield, Ohio, in honor of Appleseed/' whose unselfish character made him so true to his mission of planting nurseries and sowing the seeds of medicinal herbs in Ohio.

Shocking Suicide

Soon after James Pember's arrival in 1836 in Freedom township, he purchased a tract of land from a man named Benjamin Waite, paying him for it $600, which sum proved to be the only perceivable cause for the man's suicide.

No sooner had Waite become possessed of the money, than he was seized with the insane belief that he was pursued by robbers. He counted and recounted his money. He grew to distrust his wife. She was no longer a safe guardian of his pelf. Avaricious spirits and wood demons haunted his footsteps in the forests, and red-handed pirates haunted his fitful slumbers in apparitions more dreadful than the "spectre bridegroom/'

Gloominess and melancholy gradually took the place of a once cheerful mind. On other matters he seemed right enough. But that he should be robbed he Avas certain, and nothing could dissipate the delusion from his mind, and finally he lost confidence in all earthly things except his dog.

It was in this state of mind that he and his wife started back to Lorain county where they had come from. The first night out they stopped at Sherwood's tavern at Green Creek, Sandusky county, still pursued by robbers, as he 1 bought. In the night, his wife missed him, and began to feel uneasy on account of his absence, but he returned and told her that he had been out to hide his money. As soon as it was light in the morning, she went with him to get it. He went nearly a mile as she thought, into the thick woods, as direct as if he had been following a path, where they found the dog tied to a bush with his master's necktie. Near by under a root he dug up the money. What seemed still stranger than all, was the fact of the night's being exceedingly dark and his being wholly unfamiliar with the woods. The next night they reached Vermillion river, where they stopped at a tavern again. His wife lay awake and watched him for a time. He seemed to be resting well and finally overcome with weariness, she fell into a light sleep, only to be startled in a short time with a heavy fall on the floor, in the room where they slept. She instantly perceived that his place in bed was vacant, and hastened to get a light. She found him lying on the floor, red with his own blood and with what little strength and life yet remained, he was still dealing himself deathly stabs with a butcher knife. One almost imagines the poor victim in the same state of mind as Poe, in Lenore:

In 1776 England was the most advanced of all the ages in constitutional liberty, but when we went to war "For No Taxation Without Eepresentation" and created a new nation, we reached a higher plane in the advance of civilization.

In the latter part of the Eighties a bill was introduced into congress and pushed to a vote. This bill provided means for erecting monuments to perpetuate the memory of Perry's victory, Ft. Meigs, Ft. Miami, Ft. Industry and the battle of Fallen Timber. This bill was finally stricken from the appropriations bill.

WE have no data at hand to give any account of volunteers, if any, from Wood county during the Mexican war, as the county was then sparsely settled, there being a population of not over 13,000 probably in the entire county. But in the war of the rebellion, and that of the war with Spain she gave abundant evidence of her patriotism and loyalty.

In the War of the Eebellion, thousands of her sons enlisted in the various regiments, and hundreds gave their lives in the defence of their country. Her brave boys were distributed in the 14th,

21st, 49th, 55th, 57th, 67th, 72d, 100th, 101st, 111th, 123d, 144th, 185th, 186th, and 189th regiments of Ohio Volunteer Infantry. Aside from these Wood county had its representatives in cavalry, artilleiw, battery and naval service, while many of her sons were enlisted in regiments from other states. Then when the county had been well stripped of its able-bodied men, hundreds more, known as the "squirrel hunters'' of 1862, hastened to the relief of Cincinnati when threatened by the invasion of Kirby Smith and his rebel legions.

Then in the war with Spain in 1898, Wood county furnished 222 men in Companies H and K of the 2d Ohio Regiment. The boys entered the service in April, 1898, and were mustered out in February, 1899., returning home without a man missing.

Newspaper History

THE first newspaper published in Wood county was the Miami of the Lake, Jessup W. Scott, editor. The first number of this paper was issued December 11, 1833, and the paper continued to be published under this name until the 18th of August, 1838, when the name was changed to The Ohio Whig and continued under this name until the first of June, 1844, when the name was changed Id the Kurt Meigs Reveille and under this name it was published till the 10th of March, 1853, and was then changed to the Perrysburg Journal. It was started as a Whig paper and so continued until the fall of 1854, when the Republican party drove the old Whig party from the field. The Journal became an advocate

The next paper issued in Wood county was the Wood County Packet. This paper was Democratic in politics, and it was said to have been ably conducted during the brief period while it existed. It was started in the year 1838 or 1839, and closed in the year 1841, or immediately after the memorable hard-cider and coon-skin campaign.

Soon after another Democratic paper started at Perrysburg about the year 1845, but there remains nothing from which its history can be learned.

In the year A.D., 1853, Albert D. Wright commenced the publication of the North Western Democrat, a Democratic paper, as its name indicates. The first issue of this paper was on the 22d of May, 1852, and Mr. Wright continued the publication until his death by cholera in the summer of 1854.

publication continued till the 22d of January, 1855, when the name was changed to the Maumee Valley Democrat, and continued to be published under that name until September 3, 1857, when the name was again changed and from that time to the 7th of October, 1858, it was published under the name of The Democrat, when for want of support its publication ceased.

In the year 1862 the Independent was started at Perrysburg, and continued to be published when it was removed to Toledo and the name changed to the Democratic Record.

The Buckeye Granger, a paper as its name sufficiently indicates, was started at Perrysburg on the 10th of November, 1874, for the purpose of advocating the principles and advancing the interests of the "Grangers." It was neutral in polities, but finally became the Democratic organ of the county, continuing as such until its collapse.

The contest between Perrysburg and Bowling Green in the year 1866, over the removal of the county seat, called into existence the Advocate at Bowling Green, the publication of which was discontinued a short time after the election in the above named year. In January, 1867 the first number of the Sentinel was issued and subsequently the name was changed to the Wood County Sentinel. This paper from the beginning advocated the principles of the Republican party.

In the fall of 1874, J. D. Baker commenced the publication of the Wood County Democrat, but discontinued after about four months, and sold the press to Bowling Green parties, who began the publication of the Wood County News, in May, 1875, and which paper had a lively existence until in November, after the election, and at the age of six months the News office was merged with the Wood County Sentinel, and was

The New Baltimore Enterprise was commenced in March, 1875, and its successor, the Wood County Democrat was issued in December, 1878, by D. E. & B. L. Peters. In 1880 it passed into the hands of Wm. B. and Russell T. Dobson; in July, 1889, Henry Holterman took the paper and in September, 1890, Henry S. Chapin became the proprietor, and continues its publication up to the present time. D. C. Van Voorhis became connected with the paper in 1892, and is still with the paper. The Democrat was published as a daily in the campaigns of 1894 and 1896. It has a wide circulation throughout the county.

Other papers that have had a brief existence in Bowling Green, were the Bowling Green Journal, The Wood County Republican, The Bowling Green News, Wood County Agitator, The Reporter, The Wood County Gazette, The Daily Gazette, The Wood County News, The Wood County Free Press.

Besides these other papers in the county are The North Baltimore Times, successor to the Bairdstown Times, The Bloomdale Derrick, Wood County Tribune, Evening Tribune, Weston News, Weston Avalanche, The Free Press, The Weston Reporter, The Weston Herald, Pemberville Independent, Pemberville Brick Block, Pemberville Reporter, Wood County Index, Pemberville Leader, Pemberville Presbyterian, Farm and Fireside, Grand Rapids Triumph, The Cygnet Globe, The Cygnet Gusher, The Christian Review, Tontogany Weekly Herald, The Weekly Graphic, The Bradner News, Prairie Depot Observer, and The Bradner Advocate.

A Horrible Tragedy

ME. HUTCHINSON'S first work as Constable in Milton township was summoning a jury to hold an inquest over the body of a man by the name of Simmons, who was killed by his wife in the spring of 1836, and who lived on a place in the northeast corner of Jackson township, at that time a part of Milton. Mr. Simmons had moved there with his family against the wishes of his wife. She disliked the dismal situation as it then was, and in brooding over her condition her mind probably became deranged. Several times she made the attempt to run away, but each time was brought back by her husband. She at last, as she afterwards expressed it, resolved "to get rid of her husband" and go back to her old home, and therefore watched her opportunity. One Sunday morning Mr. Simmons rose early, built a fire, and then laid down to rest for a while on a bed containing his three children and went to sleep. His wife, evidently perceiving a good time to carrv out her purpose, arose, took a broad-ax from under her bed and with one blow literally cut his head off. The jury summoned found, a verdict in accordance witli the foregoing facts, and Mrs. Simmons was afterwards taken to an asylum, where, after lingering some time, death put to rest the crazed brain.

Willard V. Way

MR. EVERS, in 1875, gave an extended sketch of Willard V. Way, who died at his home in Perrysburg in the latter part of August of that year, at the age of 68. Mr. Evers says: Mr. Way was born in Otsego county, New York, in 1807, and was a graduate of Union College, after which he read law for a time, when he removed to Painesville, Ohio, finished his law studies and located in Perrysburg in the year 1834. Mr. Way was an attorney by profession and though not an eloquent jury lawyer he attained the reputation of being an excellent and safe counselor. He held several county offices, among others that of Auditor and in every position he occupied he showed both care and ability. He was at an earlier day a politician of considerable foresight and sagacity and

On the authority of Mr. Michael Hays, an early Democratic associate of Mr. Way, the latter was a leader in the party and a convention had been called at which Mr. Way was a candidate for the State Senate. The convention folks from the river were coming out in a two horse wagon and had stopped at the Strickland place to "take something."

About this time John C. Spink, the leading Whig spirit of the county, drove up and asked Mr. Hays to get in his buggy and ride out with him. Mr. Hays said to Spink, "What are you going out to a Democratic Convention for?" "To raise the devil," said Spink, and ' sure enough, remarks Mr. Hays, he did raise the devil. Way got mad at the way things wont and was further irritated at his defeat, by what he considered unfair means in the Senatorial Convention. Mr. Hays says that lie was never more surprised than when a fvw days after Way rode along by his place in company with Asher Cook who was then reading law with him and called Hays to him and said with much warmth of feeling, "Hays, I have built up the Democratic party in Wood county and now so help me G - d I will tear it down." In later years ho acted with the Republican party.

It is estimated that his real estate alone is worth $80,000 and his estate is estimated at $150,000 to $175,000. He was of a literary turn of mind and took a great interest in educational matters and the pioneer history of the Valley. He wrote and published in pamphlet form a history of the "Michigan War," an amusing and rather interesting account of the State boundary line contest.

In his will the Union School of Perrysburg in perpetuity is given $5,000, the interest of which is to go toward defying the College expense of some well recommended graduate of said schools.

His homestead and six village lots are left in custody of his wife, so long as she lives, then it goes to the town for a public park. $15,000 is set apart as a perpetual fund, the interest only of which can be used in the support of the library. All the rest of the proceeds of the estate may be used in the purchase of a lot and the construction of a suitable building and the purchase of books as and in such manner as the town Council may think best, but for no other purpose.

The Woodbury House

IN" a letter to the Wood County Republican, C. W. Evers, at the request of the editor, gave the following facts regarding the Woodbury House, correcting the many prevalent errors regarding it. Mr. Evers says:

The village of Woodbury was surveyed and platted by Hiram Davis, a pioneer surveyor of Wood county, May 4, 1837, for John Thompson, Henry B. Gibson and Jabez B. Larwell. The location was at a point where the east and west line dividing Liberty and Henry townships, Wood county, intersects the Findlay pike. Two years prior to the survey or in 1835, a postoffice had been established, kept in a log store room by Joseph Thompson. After the survey General Thompson built the frame house which has been the theme of so many stories uncanny and otherwise. After General Thompson's dream of a city growing up there had been dissipated by a few wet, sickly seasons, the house stood vacant at times for want of a tenant, and seems to have only been occupied by some chance comer who had no other place to go. Xow you know how soon a house of this sort will, deservedly perhaps, get a bad name - get "haunted," etc. Some time in the 60's, it burned to the ground, no doubt by design of some one to abate a nuisance. The postoffice was moved about in the settlement still retaining the name "Woodbury" until 1876, when it was dropped from the rolls and is now only a reminiscence.

So far as can be verified by historical records or by Indian tradition, the Miami tribe of Indians were the original "pioneers" of the Maumec Valley. They were always true to the confidence reposed in them, and in their chiefs, from time immemorial, were second in ability to none of their time.

Sckap-Book A Night With Indians

JF. DUBBS of Milton township, in - 1883, furnished a startling incident for Mr. Evers' sketches. He said that in February of the year 1838, his uncle, John Dubbs, lived in a cabin in Jackson township, and he lived with him, being a small boy at that time. A lad named Simmons about my age also lived there.

There was an Indian shanty on his uncle's land occupied by four Indians, two men and two squaws; the men were brothers: John and Bob were their names; the old squaw was the mother of the two men, the young squaw was Bob's wife. She was young and handsome, and Bob was very proud of his wife. John was always mad at Bob because he had a wife and he, John, had none. The day preceding the night in question, it had snowed about eight inches deep and turned very cold.

Mr. Dubbs says: About 9 o'clock at night the Indian family came to our cabin and asked for admittance, for they were very cold. Uncle John opened the door. I can look back through the mists of time and see those Indians walk in with their blankets around them and with their knives in their belts. The men were over six feet tall and built in proportion. They took their seats around the fire place while we occupied the back part of the cabin. All was quiet for a little while. A man by the name of Rowan had a notion store and kept whisky about one mile from our cabin. The Indians had been there and procured a jug of whisky, of which they had partaken quite freely. When they began to thaw out the whisky began to take effect, and caused the spirit of Cain to rise in John, so he wanted to slay his brother, for he hated him because he had a wife. All at once the stillness was broken by Indian John pouncing upon Bob with all the fierceness of a tiger, grappling him by the throat and felling him to the floor, smashing the chair on which he was sitting; then the squaws took sides with Bob; they were all in a pile before the fire. The fight was fierce, but Bob soon cried murder ! He said John has a knife and will kill me.

Uncle John Dubbs no sooner heard this than he ordered us to open the door, which we did; then he sprang and caught Big John by the legs and tumbled him heels over head out of the cabin. Uncle John lit on top of him, and told him if he didn't lay still he would kill him in a minute. Uncle John held him by the hands and told Simmons and me to run to the stable and bring his plow lines, which we did quick as we could in the dark. Soon Big John was thoroughly bound from head to foot.

Then Uncle John began to feel that he was monarch once more and that the red man had no business his rights to dispute; he told Simmons and me to go and bring some straw which we did, and he rolled Big John in the straw, and said, now lay there and freeze until you can behave yourself. The cold soon made John beg hard to be let loose ; he said "me be good Injin, fite no more." When he Mas punished enough Uncle John let him loose and sent them home to their shanty.

It being now about twelve o'clock, and the excitement of the evening being over, we retired to rest. We had not been in bed more than one hour when the dogs began to bark and soon the piteous cries of some one was heard at the door pleading to be let in. Uncle John's patience being pretty well exhausted he yelled at the top of his voice for them to go home and not bother him any more. But the cries continued more pitiful, saying John has

By this time the whole house was aroused again, and Uncle John got up and struck a light and opened the door, and there stood the young and once beautiful squaw with her face literally cut to pieces. She was covered with blood from head to foot, and nearly frozen, the cold causing her wounds to bleed very profusely. Uncle John and the girls warmed some water and washed and dressed the wounds the best they could. I think there were about four or five bad cuts on her face and head. She soon felt better, and said she guess John

Soon as it was daylight Uncle John took the squaw and started to the shanty to see the slaughter there which he expected to find, but to his surprise he found the old squaw, John and Bob all laying with their feet toward the fire sound asleep. He woke them up and told John what he had done, and how he had broken his promise, and now they must leave his place, and never come back, which orders they promptly obeyed, and we never saw this Indian family any more.

The Black Swamp

YEARS ago, when the tide of emigration was strongly settling to the then Western States of Michigan, Illinois and Iowa, no locality, says the Toledo Blade, was better known or more dreaded than the "Black Swamp." The limits of this "Swamp" were never very well defined, but the largest part of it is embraced in Wood county. At the time when this "Black Swamp" was enjoying its reign of terror, prior to the construction of Western Reserve & Maumee Stone Road, movers passing from the East to tlie Wesl found the greatest difficulty in going from the Portage river, at Woodville, to the Maumee river, at Perrysburg. While all of this distance was not properly "Swamp," two or three stone ridges rising out of the mud and water to cheer the weary traveler, the greater portion of the fifteen miles was emphatically a "Swamp," covered with water

Old settlers relate many amusing incidents connected with travel through the "Swamp" in those days, and the hardships endured by "movers" can probably never be too strongly colored. "Taverns" were located along the line of the traveled road in great numbers, not more than one-half a mile or a mile apart. It is related as a fact that "movers" would frequently travel hard each day for three days in succession and put up at the same "tavern" each night. It was called "Black Swam})" because' the soil was black, and it was exceedingly difficult to pass through it, because this black soil, or loam, was of great depth and thoroughly impregnated with lime, forming a tough, waxy mud which would adhere to the wheels of wagons with great tenacity.

But things have changed, and that which years ago was regarded as a great curse, is to-day esteemed the greatest blessing. Clearing up the land and ditching it, has redeemed the "Black Swamp," and the soil to-day is unsurpassed for productiveness. It is easily tilled and yields tlie largest crops of grain and the best samples of fruits. The "Black Swamp" farmers see no evidences of the once dreaded "Swamp/' except in the deep, rich, black loam into which their plows sink and which yields such abundant returns for the husbandman's labors. Artificial drainage has accomplished what natural drainage has failed to effect, and the "Black Swamp" to-day, where properly under-drained and provided with ditches, will stand a drought or a flood better than any other section of Ohio. The land is much stronger than it possibly could have been but for the level surface of the earth, which gave it the appearance of a vast "Black Swamp."

Hull'S Surrender

It was late in May, 1812, when General Hull arrived at our camp at Dayton, and Governor Meigs relinquished command. A few days after we were on the march for Detroit. The road was a difficult one to travel, but by the aid of efficient guides, and the protection of Divine Providence we arrived safely at our destination, after much suffering and many stoppages on the way. For nearly two months after our arrival, we engaged in the performance of no extraordinary military duty the general routine of camp life being the order from day to day. In August the British and Indians arrived, and soon after the scene occurred which produced such indignation at the time, and about which histories do not agree. My company, belonging to Cass' regiment, was surrendered with all the Ohio volunteers, Millers regulars, and a large force of militia. I shall never forget the scenes which then transpired. My opinion of General Hull's conduct, formed at the time (and events since have not changed it) was, that General Hull was an imbecile - not a traitor or a coward but an imbecile, caused by the excessive1 ii-' of ardent spirits. 1 fe was a constant and heavy drinker. On the day before the surrender, his son, Captain Abraham F. Hull, came among my men in a beastly state of intoxication. On the day of the surrender I saw General Hull frequently. His face about the chin and mouth was covered with tobacco juice, and I thought, in common with other officers, that the General was under the influence of liquor. His personal appearance indicated that he had been drinking. The general was surrounded, in camp by a military family, the members of which were fond of high living, wines, liquors, etc. I know us poor volunteers wondered how they could keep up such luxuries, but our surgeon relieved my mind by informing me one day that Hull's officers drew all the liquors from the hospital stores, on continued complaint of illness, Hull's surgeon (one of the party) certifying to the requisitions. When the news of the surrender was known to the troops, they were scarcely able to restrain their indignation. Hundreds of horrible oaths and threats ascended, which I hope has not been set down by the "Recording Angel." Mc- Arthur broke his sword, as did other officers. General Hull was repeatedly insulted to his face, and soon hid himself away. The members of his military family, especially the General's son Abraham, received some pretty tall abuse from us Ohioans. After the surrender and before the enemy had entered, many officers, myself among the number, implored ( lolonel Kindlav to lake command of the

American forces, and resist the enemy, but he declined. Colonel Jas. Miller was importuned the same as Findlay, but he was unwilling to assume the responsibilit}r, saying as near as I can recollect, ".Mattel's have gone too far, but had General Hull signified to me his intention of surrendering, I would have assumed command, and defended the fort to the last." Miller would have done so and so would McArthur had he been in the fort.

Some little time after Hull had ordered the white flag, August 16, 1812, Colonel Isaac Brock, the British commander, entered the fort attended by his staff and several Indian chiefs. The American troops were ordered to the parade ground and there piled up their muskets, swords, pistols, knives, cartridge boxes, etc. A heavy guard was placed over us, and we were then sent to the "citadel" where we were kept until released on parole. Hull and the regular officers were sent to Quebec.

A Madman'S Frenzy

IN the old Perrysburg jail when the insane patients of Wood county were confined in it, a stalwart middle-aged man with dark hair and beard was confined in the first cell near the entry to the crazy department, and few who ever saw him in his crazy frenzy with that demoniac expression of the eye which at times seemed to emit fire while his mouth was ehoaked with foam, will have forgotten it. He was one of the most dangerous men ever put under lock and key. When in a frenzy his rage knew no bounds and his strength seemed almost superhuman and he exerted both to the direst extent on any object within his grasp.

On one occasion he dragged a young dog through the bars of the cell door, crushed its head on the brick floor and licked up the blood. C. C. Baird, who was then Deputy Sheriff and jailer, assisted by the best man he could select, undertook the dangerous job of entering his cell. Mr. Baird got his head seriously hurt with an iron vessel with which Cross assailed them, roaring the meanwhile like a lion.

At another time he got a new hat belonging to another patient, in his cell and refused to let it be taken out. It took the strength of two men to force the door open which he held with all his strength, until of a sudden he let loose when both came in nearly falling on their knees. Cross instantly grappled one of the men, pushing him over the iron bedstead against the wall while the other seized hold of the mad man's throat with an iron grip. His eyes protruded from their sockets and his tongue from his mouth, and his face grew black before he released his grasp on the man, which he finally did completely exhausted, after which he was docile as was invariably the case when overpowered.

Cross seemed to pass through three stages or paroxysms of insanity. During the first he was ferocious, noisy and dangerous, sleepless and moving nearly all the time like a caged beast, muttering constantly to himself, more especially repeating in a disconnected way a portion of the multiplication table, but no matter what the numbers multiplied he always got around to the same product, 27. He dwelt especially on numbers 9 and 27. During this time he ate nothing, and these spells lasted sometimes for a number of days. At such times he would break all the glass from the window if he could get a stick to reach through the bars, and push his bedding out no matter how cold the weather.

The next stage was a long, almost deathlike sleep, from which it was nearly impossible to arouse him. Then followed a wakeful stupor in which he was sullen and cross, and in which he remained for some time, and during which time he had a ravenous appetite. From this he would come to his natural self, in which he was agreeable, talkative, and a pitiful being to behold. His pale, emaciated, imploring look would excite sympathy in the coldest heart. At such times he was frequently allowed to spend an hour or so in the open air in a back yard inclosed by a high fence. This of course was somewhat risky, as his spells of frenzy did not recur regularly. One afternoon Mr. Baird requested him to come in, which ordinarily he did with the submissiveness of a child, but this time he told Baird to go to h - 1. Mr. Baird was powerless to compel him to do so, nor dare he leave a moment for the safety of his family. Cross was already frothing at the mouth. In the dungeon part of the jail among the prisoners was a powerfully built Irishman

Charged with robbery. Baird closed the front doors and called Shady out. Cross closed in with him the moment he came into the yard. It was the struggle between two giants. Cross was, before his troubles and disease, the best wrestler in Wood county, and was struggling with all the fury and wild energy of a mad man. Shady, who was not a whit his inferior in size or strength, was nerved by the hideous appearance of Ins a-ntagonist. After a terrific struggle of some minutes, Cross throw Shady, hut the Irishman proved stronger when down than on his feet even, and turned Cross

The cause of his insanity is something of a mystery as is usually the case. About 20 years before he was a hale, hearty young man and we believe in the employ of E. W. Kelly, on his farm near Millgrove and not far from where the Cross people lived. It was thought that he injured himself while wrestling one night at a spelling school. He was

Where he was the terror of the institution, and from which ^place he was sent back to Wood county as incurable, and was confined in a cell in jail from the time of Sheriff Guyer's term until the establishment of the Wood county infirmary, to which he was removed in 1867. Here he was kept in the same manner until the Northwestern Asylum near Toledo was established, when he was removed there and put under care of Dr. Wright, who sent him out a well man. And he has been back to visit some of his relatives, and is now at work in Michigan, or perhaps at the Asylum, for wages.

Wright, we hear, discovered the cause of his insanity to be in the derangement of his stomach, and by watching closely the approach of his paroxysms and administering powerful cathartics followed by other treatment, succeeded in breaking the force of his attacks until he finally showed no further bad symptoms. This would seem to be strong proof of the astonishing and sympathetic relation of the brain and stomach, and is one of the most remarkable recoveries we have ever heard of.

In his 20 years of prison life, confinement, exposure and abuse of health and the reversal of all laws of health, he had endured that which would have killed 99 men in every hundred. He is to-day to all appearances, a well man of sound mind. - From Evers' Log Cabin Sketches.

Noted Bear Hunt

IN the Sentinel in 1881, Wm. E. Carothers gives an interesting account of a strenuous bear hunt in December, 1854, with Jim Rowland. In three days they had captured and killed two bears weighing over 400 pounds each. After letting their dogs rest a day, they started on the last day's hunt which is thus de- Bcribed by Carothers:

We started early in the morning, and for a time the dogs left us far in the rear, but we could discover traces of frequent fierce conflicts, and a little after noon the dogs were crowding the game hard. The bear's feet were so torn and lacerated on the bottoms, that he left blood in every track. We were now approaching the Jackson prairie or swamp, the skirts of which were covered with wind-fall and dense brush and thickets, all bent over every which way by the lodged snow. Into this old bruin plunged. It was next to impossible for a man to get through this place. When Ave at last reached the open space beyond wc came in full view of the dogs and game in a savage contest. Bruin was on a log that lay up from the ground, mopping and striking at the dogs, which were closed up in a circle all around him. It was one of the most wild, exciting, sporting scenes a hunter could wish to see. The dogs would either pull the bear off the log or cause him to jump from it, when they would all attack him and the snow would fly in clouds. The fierce growls and groans of rage of the bear could be heard above the din raised by the dogs, which was deafening.

rally and broke from his blood-thirsty tormentors. Inn within a few rods had again taken to a log. Rowland and I had rushed up with all possible haste. Jim, who was watching with great anxiety, expecting every moment to see a dog killed, suddenly stopped and leveled his rifle, and we saw the bear tumble off to the far side of the log. Every dog bounced him instantly. Jim began reloading; but what was our consternation when we heard one of the dogs giving a terrible cry of distress and saw the shaggy, black beast standing on his hind legs, with one of the best dogs in his deadly embrace, while with one paw he was beating and crippling the dogs with frightful ferocity. I rushed up within 20 feet unnoticed by the bear, and shot him in the head, killing him instantly. The dogs all laid hold of the beast with terrible vengeance and fully satiated their wrath for all the trouble and cuffs and bites they had suffered. I took off my hat and yelled loud and long, and never felt better in my life; and though the weather was pretty cold I seemed to lie fairly melting and the steam rose from my head in wreaths high as the tree tops.

We were, dogs and all, pretty well used up ; the poor brutes lay down and licked I heir bloody feet, and had hard work to get home ; they would lay down and whine and wag their tails as if in the greatest distress. This bear was a fine three-year-old, and weighed about 400 pounds.

Although I have done some hunting since, that was my last bear hunt and it was about the last of Rowland's hunting. He told me years after that he never got over the effects of that chase - that it was more than flesh and bone could endure. Jim was almost a man of iron. Closely knit, compact, largeboned, broad-chested, active as a deer, strong and with an endurance in his younger days almost incredible, he had

Providence seemed to have allotted each man his proper sphere in the great universe, and this cdass of men - the pioneers of the Black Swamp, bravely and faithfully fulfilled their mission. The law of necessity gauged all their comforts to the very fewest and plainest. The cares incident to a luxurious state of living, the turmoil of business, the frivolities of fashion, the struggle for social supremacy, were unknown to those early pioneers. They lived more for each other than people do now, but they were only the fore-runners of a higher civilization.

A Ghastly Crime

ON the night of the 10th of October, 1881, Carl Bach, a farmer of Milton township, most savagely murdered his wife, which was the culmination of a long period of domestic discord. On the morning of the 11th, the murderer voluntarily walked to Bowling Green and surrendered himself to the sheriff. .

The Sentinel of October 12, 1883, says when the coroner reached the scene of the murder, in the middle of the room in a pool of blood, lay the body of a woman, covered with a sheet. The floor, walls and ceiling were smeared and bespattered with blood; giblets of flesh, tufts of hair, brains and fingers were scattered over the floor.

On lifting the bloody sheet from the body the sight was still more shocking. The back part of the woman's head was all hacked to a jelly. The left shoulder had been nearly severed by one terrific blow. The side of the head was cut open from the mouth back. An arm was nearly cut off and several fingers were severed on one of the hands. Such a horrible butchery it would be hard to paint in the imagination. The woman when first attacked lay in bed with her six-year-old child, and to her struggles to avoid the murderous blows and get free, is partly attributable her strangely mangled condition, and the blood marks of her hands on the wall. She was doubtless dead before the infuriated murderer ceased hacking her body.

With his three children, aged 13, 11 and 6 years, he slept until morning in an adjoining room and very early in the morning he took the children to the house of a neighbor, Mr. Heinzie, about a mile distant. He told what he had done - that he had killed his wife and that he must go to Bowling Green and give himself up, and requested Mr. Heinzie to take care of the children and left with him also a sum of money for the burial of his wife. Mr. Heinzie was startled at his strange conduct and disbelieved his shocking story, but told some of the neighbors and together they went to the house and found their worst fears more than confirmed.

On the 5th of February, 1882, Bach was indicted for wilful murder. The trial took place in June, 1S82, and on the 16th of that month he was found guilty as charged, and sentenced to be hanged October 13, 1882.

Bach's counsel prepared a bill of exceptions and a short time prior to the time set for the execution, filed a motion in the Supreme court for leave to file a petition in error. The motion being argued was sustained by the court and a stay of proceedings granted until the hearing of the petition at the January term 1883, at which time the judgment of the court of Common Pleas was reversed Cor 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 sail I court, and assigned for trial at the May term thereof, viz : on the 11th day of -tune, 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 eastera 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 purpose 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 years before. Wife number one was still living in comfortable circumstances and perhaps ignorant of the whereabouts or fate of her long ago forgotten husband.

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 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, i In 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 hi in with a knife.

Ewing relates that himself and another young man once attended a dance with two bright young belles of their Qeighborhood and were invited to join in the services, which invitation they accepted. Ewing'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. The 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 ; lie 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 years 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 proud 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 through 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 his 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 beingcentered 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 was she toiled on night and day that she might fulfill her musical ambition.

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.

That 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 col- Lectible by law and that there was but a remote possibility of her ever getting it at all.

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

This discouragement 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 Peering had preached for two or three years 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 pay if she would. She soon began to realize that she was none too welcome even in her 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 a1 last Fanny received cruel blows and was driven from her father's roof, her 1 1 unks put in the wagon shed and the doors Locked and even nailed against her and she was told they would not pay her.

To get her away peaceably her father engaged her board at a near neighbor's, Mr. 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. Matters went on in this wav until Jan-

On January 12, 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 ii 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 broken 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. When 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 wdio 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 our 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, had inhumanly steeled his heart and hand against her, that his wife had got all her hard, hard earnings, and that lame, broken in heart and penniless, this proud-spirited, ambitious girl was to be turned adrift on the world alone, to struggle on as best she could or go to the poor house.

If they did think of these things then their sins will he greater, for instead of offering balm to her bleeding heart she was subjected to further degrading, cruel, inhuman 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. Tt 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 Fanny's death Mrs. t'arr 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 believed by many that she was, as we hinfed previously, apprehensive of what would happen and left. The next day, Tuesday,

Shot through the heart by her own hand. About the middle of the forenoon Mr. ('a rr, 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: error unless they are familiar with his understanding. 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 that the fragment left, go with the rest. I cannot live without the love and tenderness that may never be mine. If 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 day it must come to this, but could not give up till I came here. This summer has showed me more plainly what 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, but I can not change without more bother 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 T 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 papers to Mrs. Prentice. * * * *

"Your company has lightened and cheered many sad hours for me. I owe you much. I can make no return, but I am grateful for all the kindness and sympathy 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 when 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. Remember that one sign of honor or uprightness, one fatherly look even, would 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. Y^ou have killed me by inches. Are you satisfied ?"

Sc Kap-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, Avhat 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 Deering would today be 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 people, and there appears 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, lie had prudently absented himself, but there were plenty of signs left that the party was well supplied with tar and feathers.

Theloomis 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 County Sentinel of May 16, 1886, the following account 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 Ridge, Wood county. Every indication showed that the man had been 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 identification. 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 load 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 "G. 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 bad evidently delayed decomposition.

Many theories were advanced regarding the tragedy, after the inquest, and the fad was pretty clearly established that, the unfortunate viethn had been murdered for his money. On the 13th, Sheriff Brown received a letter from Edwin Goddard, of Ashtabula, saying ;1 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. Babcock, 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 lied in the night, to escape some debts 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. 0. Parker, of Orwell and

Frank 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 ho would drive the horse and buck-board through to Menominee, Wis., where his parents and brothers and sisters lived, ft 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 heen hunted down by a man who did not know what it was to give up a chase.

On the 17th of June, Mr. Squires gave up all hope of catching their man, and started for home. Soon after Squires had started for home, G rover was caught by a man named. Sam. McCahn, a gentleman to whom they had confided their story, at Fall Creek, a small town about 40 miles from Menominee. McCahn 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 24th, having come from Madison, 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 the 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 necessary 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 jury 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 Court at Tiffin, in March, but the court found no error in the case, and, as they had granted a suspension of sentence, ordered the sentence to be executed on May 14th. Messrs. Tyler and Canary went before the Supreme 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 be 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 Lima & Toledo Traction Company has erected at Roche Ue Boeuf 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. Roche De Boeuf, has been practically obliterated by the construction of this bridge. All the glamour and beauty of this famous rockthas been taken away by commercialism, in the shape of a traction bridge. This famous beauty spot of Northwestern Ohio is now hemmed in on one side by a string of twenty-two ice-breakers, 12 feet square, and on the other side by one of the bridge piers, which actually cuts out about 15 or 20 J'eet from the side of the rock. Its beauty as a landmark is gone, and now, instead of towering out majestically at the head of the Rapids 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 with 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 Rochester, N. 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 Presque isle riffles, the little boat's shrill whistle loudly proclaimed her presence at the lock in Nearing's dam just below Miltonville.

After much trouble and by the 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 Rush-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, Eush-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 Miltonville 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 he 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 was known by the peculiar marks on the trees and by the trinkets found on the stakes around 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 bow and arrow, the tomahawk, and the scalping knife and belt, for they saythey 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 thru 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 eighty years of age. From that letter we quote:

With pleasure I comply with your request that I write some account of the early history of the church 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.

there 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 prac^ tically the same, as there was no other service in the town.

Family reunions and social gatherings were frequent and informal. The quilting bee and the husking party varied the monotony of country life. In time of sickness or when the Angel of Death brought distress and affliction neighborly kindness and sympathy were unfailing 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 Wood 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 fell 1 1 m t 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, ami (his was paid in annual install men Is. At the evening service of the dedication, I well remember our delightful surprise 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 up 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.