USA > Ohio > Darke County > History of Darke County, Ohio, from its earliest settlement to the present time, Volume I > Part 12
Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31 | Part 32 | Part 33 | Part 34 | Part 35 | Part 36 | Part 37 | Part 38 | Part 39 | Part 40 | Part 41 | Part 42 | Part 43 | Part 44 | Part 45 | Part 46 | Part 47 | Part 48 | Part 49 | Part 50 | Part 51 | Part 52 | Part 53 | Part 54
These atrocities were quickly made known to the camp, and a party under the directions of Tecumseh were soon upon the track of the prophet. Nor had they much trouble in find- ing him, as he did not expect to be pursued, and had taken no pains to conceal his trail. He was found still asleep and within half a mile of the settlement. This party had been instructed by Tecumseh to pursue him into the white settle- ments. and if they refused to give him up, not to leave one of them alive. It is well the prophet had not gone into the set- tlement as the worst of calamity would have befallen them. The prophet was dragged from his couch, placed in the midst of
135
DARKE COUNTY
the party and forced back to camp. Here a ring was soon formed and the prophet placed in the center, three or four steps from the inner portion of the ring. It was now de- manded of him that he should explain his conduct, and prom- ised that he might make a short speech.
He then said: "My conduct is not so bad and so full of mischief as to justify all this suspicion. Some evil : pirit seems to have taken hold of me, and compelled me to lie to the old men, and rather than lie and deceive I gave up the prophesying and to avoid the disgrace left the camp.
You should have remembered that I have always been a good and true man, that my nation has always been dear to me, and my life has been devoted to it. I had four sons, good and true, who brought much provisions to my tent, enough for us and much to spare which your children ate. Where now are those four sons? Their bodies a prey to wolves and wild beasts, and their bones bleaching on that last disastrous battlefield (Wayne's victory on the Maumee ). My family are now all taken away from me. What have I to live for? You can kill me, as I expect you will, but first I demand to know who has killed my defenseless and inno- cent wife and daughter. Does no one speak? Are you al- ready ashamed of the deed that you hide it? Let the cow- ardly brute who has performed this perfid'ous deed acknowl- edge it. Coward, you dare not say. "I am the man." The spy now advanced a few inches, and said. "False prophet, I am the man." Quick as lightning the prophet drew his hatchet, and with unerring aim and terrific force threw it, striking the spy full in the breast, where it was buried to the poll. The spy fell dead at his feet. He now, with dexterous like motion drew his knife, and with full force made a plunge at Tecum- sell. At this instant a savage from behind struck him with a heavy club on the side of his head, which felled him stunned to the ground. His knife was now taken from him, his hands tied firmly behind his back, when Tecumseh cried out with a loud voice. "Let him be hanged to that tree." A piece of raw buffalo hide was soon procured, and fastened round his neck. Several now caught and lifted him up while another in the tree made him fast to a limb. They then walked away from under him and the prophet was left kicking and dangling in the air.
"Thus is recorded the tragic end of one of the great men of the Miami nation. He did not die as the coward, yet he was
136
DARKE COUNTY
not entirely satisfied. He knew that Tecumseh had brought on his ruin. If the unfortunate blow on his head had been delayed but for a single second his knife would have cut the heart of Tecumseh and he would have been satisfied. As it was Tecumseh still lived to bring great calamity upon both his friends and foes. All the day long Blue Jacket hung upon the tree, for a while the jilt and sport of the camp. But toward night a reaction took place. They remembered his speech and his family, and the many kind acts he had per- formed. They had been cured of sickness by his medicines, shared his sumptuous fare, and his spritely conversation. He was now taken down from the tree, his property gathered about him, and early next morning nearly the whole tribe ac- companied his remains to the burial ground at the council house, which was situated on the lands now owned by Joseph Bryson, Esq., where his grave remains to this day."
We close this chapter with an appropriate descriptive and narrative poem by the late Barney Collins, formerly of Darke county. This poem was published in the Greenville Courier, edited by Mr. John Calderwood, a brother of Mrs. Collins, and should be treasured as the work of one of the best lit- erary geniuses that the county ever produced.
Within these lovely vales, these hills around,
There still remains of former times the trace When great Tecumseh and his brother bound
By oaths in common league their war-like race, To drive from hence, their favorite hunting place, The pioneers, and boldly strike a blow
That would them crush and ev'ry line efface
They had established here, so that no foe
Could tempt again these haunts so sacred to the bow.
Where form our tranquil streams their confluence, The mighty Shawnee had his cabin reared;
And oft upon their shores his eloquence
To wildest rage his dusky warriors stirred, And gathered chiefs and tribes that list'ning heard Their common cause his voice persuasive plead,
His counsels chose, and him as chief preferred, Their restless bands to fields of war to lead,
Where ev'ry home should blaze and ev'ry inmate bleed.
137
DARKE COUNTY
Then he who rul'd with more than regal power, No less did Laulewasikaw the Seer Who here foretold the time-the day-the hour- When in deep gloom the sun would disappear, And black, obscuring shades o'erspread this sphere! And where our hill embosomed waves unite, The prophet waiting stood with air severe, 'Till Luna's shadow hid the orb of light And cried : "Have I not veiled that burning world from sight?
Behold! ye tribes! the truth behold at last ! Yon sun is rayless at the noon of day! O'er it his frown great Manito has cast That you might doubt no more but me obey ! The time will come! It is not far away! When he, will you, ye braves! to victory call ! But here your chief must first his bands array In these deep wilds so sacred to us ali,
Ere yet, war's path we take where ev'ry foe shall fall !"
They could not doubt-with awe their breasts were flll'd As to the darkened earth they trembling bent ; Nor were their souls that shook with terror stilled, Until this sun encumb'ring gloom was rent, No more to his commands they urg'd dissent, But what their proven prophet did direct They chose to do, and gave their full assent To ev'ry scheme of war that he'd project.
And though they failed, on him they never would reflect.
From here his hostile bands Tecumseh led To join that no less savage, heartless foe That Britain sent upon our shores to spread Ruin and war's infinity of woe ! A few there are who yet survive that know The perils that did the pioneers invest When tomahawk and torch and bended bow
Their work of death perform'd with horrid zest, Nor age was spared, nor babe that clasp'd the mother's breast !
But when at Thames the red man's hopes were crushed, And with him here a final treaty was made- Here, a broad tide of emigration rush'd
Which to improvement gave its needed aid,
138
DARKE COUNTY
Where through the wildreness the footpath stray'd O'er which the foliage of the forest spread Broad avenues of enterprise and trade Were built-and progress forward swiftly sped Until these vales were filled with wealth unlimited.
CHAPTER VIII.
PIONEERS AND PIONEER SETTLEMENTS.
After the peace of Greenville in 1795, and the occupancy of Detroit by the Americans in 1796, a feeling of security came over the settlers along the Ohio. They soon left their pali- saded forts and blockhouse stations and advanced into the beautiful valleys of the Muskingum, Scioto and the two Miamis to establish new homes, and reclaim the land. In 1796 the advance guard of the Miami valley settlers arrived at the junction of Mad river with the Miami and established the settlement of Dayton. In order to secure nails and hard- ware for their log cottages they burned the log fort and buildings at Greenville, which had been evacuated in the spring of that year. On account of accessibility by water, no doubt, also probably because of the more open condition of the country, the land immediately adjacent to the Miami river first became sparsely settled, with nucleii at Hamilton, Dayton and other well located sites. The swampy and less accessible lands about the headwaters of the branch streams awaited the establishment of a larger population in the more open and better known country before brave hearts essayed to explore their mysteries.
Prof. W. H. McIntosh speaks of conditions at this time, as follows: "At the close of the Greenville treaty, the coun- ty to the westward was a wilderness; but, in addition to the Indian traces leading from the Miami to the Maumee, and threading their devious way to other savage villages, there were the broad trails cut by pioneers, trodden by horsemen and footmen, and marking the route of armies and the forays of detachments. The soldier was also the citizen and the settler, and his quick, appreciative glance took in the possi- bilities of the countries he had traveled. For him the woods of Darke had no charm. The conditions elsewhere were here wanting. Contrast the statement made concerning the Miami settlement to the east with the actual condition of the lands of this county. There the country was attractive all about the settlement. Nature presented her most lovely appear-
140
DARKE COUNTY
ance; the rich soil, mellow as an ash-heap, excelled in the exuberance of its vegetation. Cattle were lost from exces- sive feeding, and care was required to preserve them from this danger. Over the bottom grew the sweet annis, the wild nettle, the rye and the pea vine, in rich abundance, where the cattle were subsisted without labor, and these, with nutritious roots, were eaten by swine with the greatest avidity. In Darke lands there were found the woods, the endless variety of vine and shrub, impassable swamps, lack of roadway, and the great difficulty of making passable roads. Nor were the forests the only or most formidable barrier to early settlement. We have seen the woods to be filled with Indians. Their principal town was at Piqua, distant but eighteen miles; their camps were along the creeks. In the neighborhood of larger settlements they were treated rough- ly, and are entitled to little consideration, and it was known from bitter experience that lone families were in constant dan- ger of the sudden wrath of the savage." * * "Some por- tions of the county abounded in game, and among those timid and harmless animals were found those fierce and dangerous, as might be judged from the names of creek and locality. Still this might be regarded more as an annoyance than as a dread, and, later, premiums for scalps of wolf and panther supplied the settler with means of paying tax or buying necessaries. There existed a still more potent influence de- barring occupation, and this was ill reports of health and cli- mate. The men of that day were little afraid of labor; they knew the Indian must give way, but they were peculiarly influenced by whatever partook of the mysterious, and ru- mor's many voices soon changed the natural to the marvel- ous, and Darke county was shunned as the haunt of a plague, designated "milk sickness." Some implicitly believe in its prevalence to this day, while others assert that it is a myth, undeserving of credence. Endeavors to find a case have al- ways proved futile. It is heard of "just over in the next township," but, going thither, report placed it further on in the next township, or perhaps in the one just left, and the phantom always places the breadth of a township between its locality and the curious investigator. But whether a myth or a reality, the report spread along the Miami and beyond ; the settlers believed it, and, what was worse, regarded it with dread. Even the Indians asserted that certain districts were infected with an air freighted with the odors of disease, and
141
DARKE COUNTY
gravely told the whites, "Not live much here-too much bel- ly sick," and, whatever the cause, there was sickness where they gave this word of warning. It will thus be seen that the territory which afterward became Darke county had won an unenviable reputation, and land titles were held at low rates, with few bidders. These things undoubtedly delayed settlement and caused a tardy growth, while they gave in compensation a class of men possessed of pluck and energy, well qualified to leave their impress on the soil.
"In the settlement of Darke county, which for eight years was a dependency of Miami, two classes of land occupants were recognized-the transient and the permanent. The his- torian called to do justice to the worthy class finds but few of their descendants resident citizens of the county, and it is not till 1816 and later, that families came to stay and make their fortune blend with that of their future home.
"Coming up the army roads, striking across the country, eli- gible locations caught the eye, and established the hunter at a creek-side home, while an unusual hard time in sickness and losses impelled the intended resident to move away. Thus there were conversions from one class to another, and all shared in a certain degree of restlessness while in search of a home, but a strongly marked distinction between the two divisions existed. There was seen to be here, as elsewhere, a border class of trapper and hunter affiliating with the sav- ages, only endured by genuine settlers and hanging upon the outmost fringe of advancing occupation. It matters little who they were, these openers or beginners, who held aloof from neighbors, occupied miserable huts, raised small patches of corn, and left when the clearings became too numerous. Many poor men came into the county, put up small log cab- ins, cleared somewhat of ground. then, disheartened by pri- vation, sickness and inability to make payments, gave way to others, who built with better success upon their broken for- tunes. An old Darke county settler, located not far from Greenville, thus speaks of the actual pioneers as a class: "The place for the squatter is not quite among the Indians, for that is too savage, nor yet among good farmers, who are too .jealous and selfish, but in the woods, partly for clearing it up and partly for hunting." The histories of townships, dealing with the first settlers, often speak of the unknown squatter, whose abandoned claims gave brief home to the settler, and whose ill-cleared vegetable patch. growing up to weeds and
142
DARKE COUNTY
bush, made the spot seem yet more wild than the woods sur- * rounding."
"In recounting the incentives to Western emigration, the ruling motive was the hope of improving the condition. The land was cheap, undoubtedly fertile, and the prospects of a rise in values certain. There were those who expected to find a 'paradise in the West,' and journeyed thither only to suffer from disease, want and discouragements. Some went back, telling of suffering, and dissuaded those lightly influ- enced; others, with inherent manhood, resolved, since they were here, to make the best of it, and gradually won their way to affluence and comfort."
So far as we know, no white men penetrated the forests of Darke county after the burning of the fort except the government surveyors-the Ludlows, Cooper, Nelson and Chambers and their assistants-until early in the nineteenth century.
In a former chapter it has been noted that a large num- ber of women were with St. Clair's army, many of whom were either killed or captured. It is supposed that these were wives and members of the families of men with the army who intended to settle in the neighborhood of the fort which St. Clair intended to build at the junction of the St. Mary's and St. Joseph rivers. According to the following article by Mr. James O. Arnold, a prominent member of the Dayton Historical Society, an attempt at settlement was made by at least one family during Wayne's occupancy at Fort Green- ville. We herewith quote the article because of its apparent authenticity. and because it paints a vivid picture of life in the wilderness.
"Four walls of wood growth of hickory, walnut, oak, ash and elm, mingled with maples and undergrowth, so dense that a horseman could not pass, so tall that its shade cast a gloom around about, and between these walls a clearing and military fort. Beyond, another clearing and a cabin built of logs, lighted by a little window. The heavy oaken door swung on wooden hinges; the curling smoke from the chim- ney made of lath, grass and clay, and 'the latchstring out.' bid welcome to the guest without, an invitation to enjoy the open fire and the hospitalities of the host. A veritable, typi- cal home of the pioneer in the county of Darke, in the vil- lage of Greenville, O .- 'a U. S. military fort,' in the latter days
143
DARKE COUNTY
of the seventeenth century, where General Wayne bid the In- dians all adieu.
"The military engineers then laid their roads on the 'high- ways' above the lowlands, swamps and fallen timbers, and so narrow that the wheels of the connestoga wagons would touch the undergrowth and trees in passing to the fort. Through lands so wet and ruts and inud so deep that to ride the saddle horse of the team, and the family on horseback, in the trail was a lullaby in comparison to the rocking, jolting wagon that sheltered the. mother and her babes on their journey to the clearing in the forest wild. Grandfather Hard- man (Herdman) of Pennsylvania, his heroic wife and two sons, one son and his wife Mary, and her babe, were the pion- eers in such a home. True to family tradition, often told in later years, that made the small boy tremble with fear as he heard it before the great open fire in the home yet standing in Dayton View. The story of the hostile Indians, who were jealous of their rights, and would have scalped the family long before but for the mother, Mary Hardman, who knew their habits from a child and her mother's way of pleasing them by 'putting the kettle on' to make them soups whene'er she'd see them come, thus to appease their wrath and to afford protection. The son was doing duty as a sol- dier at the fort and pleaded and pleaded in vain to have then come within the lines and not expose themselves to fate. But, heeding not, they held their own opinion, determined to carve a home in the forest for themselves and children.
"The morning dawned, the atmosphere so dense that smoke from all the clearing around seemed so depressing that boded the coming of the foe, and she often looked through the chinks toward the wagon road to sight them first, that they might be ready in defense. Grandfather said in muffled tones : 'It is one of the old woman's scares that she cooks up on gloomy days.' But hark! Behind the cabin footsteps of no uncertain sound to the practiced ear, reassured the mother of her alarm, and she hastened to place the kettle on the fire. for well she knew their stealthy tread on mischief bent. And when she saw the swarthy face between the cabin chinks. she knew their fate was sealed and called her son and bade him hasten to escape and alarm the soldiers at the fort, for all her hope was gone. The mother clasped her babe to run for life. Each must seek themselves a place of safety and ere the father crossed the fence, an arrow swiftly sped, had
144
DARKE COUNTY
laid him cold in death. The mother ran, hid by bushes, with her babe, until faint and weary with her load and finding they were on her trail, concealed her babe, thinking they might spare it, and ran to hide herself in a place of safety. So well she knew the woods and dens to trap the fox, she jumped in one of these and covered with leaves she lay hiding until the night passed. They had found the babe and by torture cruel, so that she could hear it cry, exclaiming as they passed, 'Calf cry, cow come.' This too heartrending for a mother's love she raised her head and thus exposed to sight, when a warrior active, yet quite young, turned back to cleave her skull, but touched with pity followed on and left the babe and mother to their fate, in answer to her prayer. When all was quiet she went her solitary way toward the fort and there found help and started to their forest home. O, what a scene. Her father, mother, slain, her husband dead beside the bush fence, and the son beyond."
"They gathered all and carried them to the fort, leaving the desolated home. The soldiers swore in wrath their vengeance and pursued the Indians to their death and captured many who paid the penalty, "save one." And she who never forgot the face of him, so young, who saved her life and babe, when he, a captive taken, she in turn saved him from death with pleading tears. He, then unknown to fame, was the future great Tecumseh, born on the shores of Mad river, in the northwest territory, now the state of Ohio, U. S. A. The child thus saved was named Mary, after her mother, and lived to be a strong healthy woman of fine, large stature, nearly twenty stone in weight. She married James Bracy Oliver, of Augusta Springs, Va., who came to Dayton in 1802. *
"Mary Hardman and James Bracy Oliver, her husband, lived a prosperous and happy life, raised six sons and five daugh- ters and left a large estate. His first farm he sold to the Montgomery county commissioners for an infirmary, after A. D. 1820, and purchased lands north of the soldiers' home, where the brick house and log barn is standing, owned by William King. And they are buried in the family lot along- side the road. The graves are marked by four large stone ashlers set on edge, hooped with iron, marking the spot where the once little babe, who lived to see her grandchildren, was once saved from death by Tecumseh, near Fort Greenville. O. Many pass the spot thinking little of its historic lore. Uncle Jimmy and his wife passed away a full half century ago, and
145
DARKE COUNTY
this story has lain in manuscript fully thirty years, written in memory by the oldest grandson, who now resides at 629 Su- perior avenue, Dayton, O., in the same house where he stood
when a child of 12, between the jams in the chimney, nine feet square, more than 50 years ago, listening with fear and trembling to the Indian stories told, as "Granny's tales about the Injuns," by Granny's own self as she knit and knit from morn till night." *
Likewise the first attempt to establish a business in old Darke county was unsuccessful. About the year 1805 a Frenchman built a little log cabin north of the creek, on the present site of Minatown (probably near the present inter- section of N. Main and N. Broadway) and started to traffic with the Indians. It is said, that he was compelled to leave in the summer of 1806 as the Indians associated with the "Prophet" had stolen his entire stock. Probably in the fall of the same year, or not later than the spring of 1807, Azor Scribner, leaving his family temporarily near Middletown, O .. established himself in the cabin deserted by the Frenchman with a stock of merchandise suited for trading with the In- dians, including, no doubt, powder, lead, gun-flints, knives, hatchets, rifles, tobacco, rum and fancy calicoes. These goods were hauled over Wayne's trace from Fort Washing- ton on a crude drag or "mud boat" by a yoke of oxen and the trip is said to have taken usually from three to six weeks. In the spring of 1808 Scribner brought his family, consisting of his wife Nancy and daughters, Sarah, Elizabeth and Rhoda, from Middletown and established them in this little cabin. On the night before the arrival of the family, it is said, the Indians burned Prophetstown and started for their new home in Indiana. Scribner soon abandoned the Frenchman's cabin and moved into one of the buildings of old Fort Greenville. which had escaped the fire of the plunderers in 1796. This building was located somewhere near the present intersection of West Water and Elm streets, overlooking the old ford- ing place. Here he enjoyed a monopoly of the frontier trade until 1811 or 1812 when David Connor set up a store on the southeast corner of West Water and Sycamore streets, where he remained until after the British and Indian war. Connor then moved to Fort Recovery and later to the Mississinawa region, following up the migrating tribes with whom he gained considerable influence.
The savages had this peculiar manner of trading which (10)
146
DARKE COUNTY
could best be learned by experience. They would enter the trader's cabin, each with a roll of furs, hunt convenient seats and await the hospitality of the trader, who soon presented each with some tobacco. Pipes were then lighten, and smoking and conversation leisurely indulged in among themselves. Finally one arose, secured a stick, pointed out the desired article and asked the price. If the price and article suited him he would unroll his pack of furs and pay for it forth- with, the muskrat skin being accepted for a quarter of a dollar, the raccoon for thirty-three and a third cents, the doe- skin for fifty cents and the buckskin for one dollar. This op- eration would be repeated after the selection of each ar- ticle until the first customer had completed his purchases. Each one now quietly took his turn and bought what he wanted without needless parley and when all were through they departed as they had come.
Need help finding more records? Try our genealogical records directory which has more than 1 million sources to help you more easily locate the available records.