USA > Ohio > Richland County > History of Richland County, Ohio, from 1808 to 1908, Vol. I > Part 4
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 | Part 55 | Part 56 | Part 57 | Part 58 | Part 59
Father said he would see mother, so I followed him into the cabin when
33
HISTORY OF RICHLAND COUNTY
he told mother that the Indian had offered to trade the deer for two double handsful of corn meal. Mother said he had better do it, as they needed the meat, so father went to the door and motioned to the Indian to come in. The Indian had a small sack made of buckskin, and he held the sack while father measured the meal and poured it into the sack. After he had put in the two double hand ful he run his fingers down in the meal and took up a little more, probably a couple of spoonsful, and threw it in he sack. The Indian seemed much pleased with this extra measure, and took off his cap and nodded his head, and said, "hah, hah," which in his language no doubt meant "thank you."
This brings to my mind the terrible times they had in those days to get milling done. I remember my father going to Bellville to mill once, there being no mill any nearer, starting on Monday and did not get back until the next Sunday afternoon.
Shortly after this a horse mill was built by Samuel Rogers, on the farm now occupied by Norris Latimer, but the mill was such a hard running machine that it was very hard on the teams. No man in this day would take a grist for the grinding as it was done there. There is no improvement in this country that is as great an advantage to the people as this one thing. It is now no trouble to get milling done.
The Rev. James Rowland, an early-day pastor of the First Presbyterian church, commenced his pastorate here in 1820, and continued half a cen- tury. In writing of those early times, he said :
"Mansfield, in 1820, numbered about two or three hundred inhabitants. At that time, about the center of the public square, there was an edifice about twenty by thirty feet in breadth and length, and two stories in height. The stairway leading to the entrance of the second story was outside the building on the north side. The lower story was divided into three compartments. The west half was used for a jailer's residence, the south half of the east side as a cell where criminals were confined. The building was unpainted inside and out. The edifice served for various purposes. People of all denominations except the Methodist (who had a small frame church in the northeast part of the city as early as 1820) worshiped in the upper story. There, too, the county courts were held, and the public meetings generally. On the east and west sides of this room were fireplaces, and a stove near the center; and often. in the coldest weather, by reason of the flues drawing downward. instead of upward, the fuel had to be carried out, or the fire quenched or the inmates suffocated by smoke. In that room I preached every alternate Sabbath for two or three years and, sometimes while trying to preach, I saw the moisture of my breadth as it was congealed in passing off in the cold air. At such time in that sanctuary, it may well be imagined that both hearers and minister. were sensible to their need of a good share of internal heat, to enable them to withstand the external cold.
"The history of my ministerial life, with little alteration, can be used as the history of every other clergyman in this county and state in its infancy or first settlement. As ministers, we had to suffer privation, and endure hardships and exposures-the common lot of all the pioneers of new settle-
34
HISTORY OF RICHLAND COUNTY
ments; and yet we had our comforts and consolations then. Sweets and bitters were commingled in our paths. The flock yielded little fleece then, but much affection for and devotion to the great Shepherd, and much con- fidence in and attachment to the under shepherd. Indeed, ministers then were more highly valued than when they became more plentiful. Like commodities in general, they appeared to become cheaper as the supply increased. After a lapse of over fifty years, it now fills my heart with a mel- ancholy pleasure when I recall to mind the kind greeting by which I was welcomed at the appointed place of preaching for the evening or night, after riding six or eight miles or more on a cold wintry day. The place of wor- ship was a log cabin. The people of the neighborhood collected. The proprietor of the house piled on fuel like a log heap in the broad and deep fireplace; public worship was attended to; the people dispersed: the brands in the fireplace were thrown together, supper was prepared and served; the substantials of life were partaken of, the family altar surrounded. After- wards, another log heap was built in the fireplace, the only plan for keeping a log cabin warmer inside than outside in a cold night. We then retired to rest, not in separate rooms, but beds, enclosed by quilts suspended to the joists, and there sleep was as sound, comfortable and refreshing as in a pal- ace. The next morning we arose happy and ready for the work of the day."
INCIDENTS OF PIONEER LIFE.
The following interesting sketch of pioneer life is from the pen of Wil- liam Walters, and was published in the Mansfield News, August 23, 1902:
Away back in the olden time when Indians were prowling around, when wolves and bears made their lairs in the forests that covered the ground. then the white men came, with courage bold. tackled the forest and braved the cold.
They scalped the wolves for the offered bounty: They improved this beautiful land of Richland county. Along with the tide which never falters, There came a family by the name of Walters.
Time passed ; population increased; a county seat was platted and built up, which is now the beautiful city of Mansfield. A courthouse was built. The music of the woodman's ax demonstrated that prosperity certainly was at hand. About four miles northwest of the courthouse was a beautiful spring of clear water-the source of the Rocky Fork branch of the Mohican river. To utilize the sparkling water of this beautiful spring a Mr. "Eleck" Welch built a flouring mill there, which was known as "Welch's mill," or the "spring mills." Even now the waters of that lovely spring, like a silver cord running through meadows green, are meandering on their course still.
But he is dead who built the mill! By the way. from the courthouse to this mill is an elevated ground called Vanhorn's hill. About the year 1827, my father, John Walters, settled on a one hundred and sixty acre piece of land, two and one-half miles northwest of the courthouse not far from this
35
HISTORY OF RICHLAND COUNTY
Vanhorn's hill. The soil was rich and the timber of good variety and quality-elm, beech, hard maple, oak, walnut and butternut, buckeye, cucumber and wild cherry.
Nature, in this primeval, lovely forest, was beautifully manifested by her prolific fruits and many kinds of wild flowers. There was an abundance of beechnuts, chestnuts and acorns. When the pioneers first settled on their land in the woods, it was evident that grain could not be cultivated until the timber was cleared off and the ground prepared, which required from one to two years' time.
The first two or three years after settling in the woods they had no corn with which to fatten their hogs. But they worried not for that. Their hogs fattened on acorns and beechnuts, without expense to their owners. They could feast almost every day of the year on fat pork, venison and wild turkey. There were plenty of walnuts, hickory nuts and butternuts. Along the streams of water were beautiful flowers. The tall and graceful purple green of the meadow, the golden rod and horse mint and quite a variety of finer flowers abounded.
The higher landscape was made to appear beautifully grand with the hard maple, dogwood and ivy, sumach, sassafras and other beautiful leaves, gorgeous colored in the sere.
"God was very good To make the valleys and the hills, Put the rose upon the cactus And the ripple on the rills." 1195077
But if I had all the words of all the world at my command, I couldn't paint the picture. Nature is so grand!
Just seventy-five years ago my father settled on his one hundred and sixty acres of land northwest of Vanhorn's hill in the beautiful forest of Richland county. 'Twas early in the spring of the year, the right season for making the maple sugar. My father and mother were the only mem- bers. of the family at that time. They erected a sort of dwelling known in those days as a "sugar camp."
The "sugar camp"was about twelve by fifteen feet, built up of small logs. The roof of clap-boards sloping all one way and over, jutting out in the front far enough to cover two rows of large kettles. The camp was enclosed only at the ends and back, the front next to the kettles was left open. This camp was made as comfortable as possible under the circum- stances, to be used as their only dwelling until after the sugar-making season was over, by filling the spaces between the logs with moss and leaves to keep out the wind and snow.
The arrangements in front for boiling the sap were two rows of kettles, four in each row. The kettles were pending from poles which rested on posts, two at each end. In the eight kettles about twenty barrels of sap could be boiled down into syrup in twenty-four hours. Twenty barrels of sap would make about one hundred pounds of sugar. It would be worth from eight to twelve cents a pound, according to grade.
1
36
HISTORY OF RICHLAND COUNTY
In this rude dwelling no wooden floor was necessary. Mother Earth was good enough to be used as floor. No fancy bedstead, but for a substi- tute four small posts were driven in the ground, upon which were placed poles for the rails, and elm bark took the place of rope for cording, upon which the bed was made. No stove nor fire chimney; their meals were cooked over a fire made on the ground. This temporary dwelling was kitchen, dining room, bedroom and parlor. The wind blew the snow in over their beds. To keep from freezing they covered their heads.
In a few months after the sugar-making season was over, a new log cabin was ready for them to move into, which, although only a log cabin, with its "clap-board" door and "puncheon" floor, very primitive in style, made a much more comfortable and convenient home than the "sugar camp," which they were about to vacate, and in which they spent some happy days.
As the new comers began settling in and around, forming neighbor- hoods in this part of the country, they all enjoyed helping each other. Even as much so as ifuthey were all members of the same family. Whenever a new comer with a family came into the vicinity, the neighbors turned out and built a log cabin for him gratuitously. In a few weeks' time the newly- arrived family would be living in and enjoying the log-cabin home in the wilderness, as were their neighbors who came before them.
It became a custom that when the men of the vicinity came together to put up a cabin for a "new comer," that the women, too. would volunteer to get up a good dinner and supper for the "raisers." Suppers good enough for a king! Dinners good enough for a queen! Delicious pot-pies of pork, venison, chicken, or wild turkey, with all the other good things which those pioneer women were so well qualified to prepare in good style.
The raising of the cabin was commenced early in the day and finished to the roof by supper time. The roof, puncheon floor, door, windows, chinking, and chimneys were done afterwards by only two or three men. The cabin being raised ready for the roof, was considered a good day's work for twenty or thirty men. When the logs were all up and it being announced that supper was ready, the men would take the proprietor on the shoulders of some of the stronger ones and carry him around the cabin, in glee and hurrahs and shouts of joyous laughter, in congratulating the new comer for his successful "raising," after which they all repaired to the place where the good supper had been prepared for them, all steaming and warm from the hot fire made on the ground in Indian style; which supper they enjoyed as one of the best feasts in their lives, joking and jesting and trying to see who could tell the best story. In that way they used to enjoy themselves at the log cabin "raisings" in the days of the early settlements. They seemed to be more contented and happy than we who are now reaping the fruits of their labors. Their lands were densely timbered. which timber had to be cleared off before they could raise their crops. The timber was then chopped down and cut up into logs twelve to fifteen feet long, ready for rolling into log heaps so that they could be burned. When burned, the ashes were gathered up to be sold, to be made into potash.
37
HISTORY OF RICHLAND COUNTY
Whenever a neighbor had a few acres of his timber cut up into rolling lengths, ready for heaping, and the brush heaps burned, then he would have a "rolling" party, and the men would have a jolly time in making those log heaps. Two men would be captains, take sides, choose their men, divide the ground and run a race to see which side would get done first. All things being ready, the "rolling" commenced. Pell mell! Hurrah and every fellow pitched into the work with all his might and strength to see which side would get through first. Which ever side got through first, their captain would be carried upon the shoulders of two men amidst the company with their cheers and shouts of applause. In this way five or six acres in one day would be rolled ready for burning. At these rollings every man but the captain carried a handspike. The captains carried a balance pole, or fulcrum; planned the heaps and gave command. When quitting time came they went as usual to the good supper which was prepared for them by those good pioneer women.
In course of time and by much practice these pioneers became very expert choppers. There was a man living two miles north of the courthouse on a farm known as the Dr. Miller farm, by the name of Mullen, who had a bet of fifty dollars with another man that he could move more wood than the other from sun-up to sun-down, in the month of June, when the days were about fourteen hours long. Both men were strong, athletic men and expert choppers, having been choppers of cord wood for the charcoal pits at Pittsburg, Pa. The wood had to be four feet long. The day was set for the chopping to be done. Men were selected to split the wood, all of which was to be chopped out of straight body timber. Other men were selected to cord up the same wood and three judges were chosen. The wood was to be honestly split and honestly corded, and the judges to be impartial. The timber to be chopped was selected by the two parties themselves, out of the best chopping timber they could find, such as red beech. wild cherry, red elm, maple, etc. The trees were cut down and marked off into the proper lengths of four feet, including half of the carf, all ready to commence on. On the day appointed, early in the morning before sun-rise. all were on the ground ready for business, and many spectators were there also.
Just as the sun began to show its first rays of light above the horizon. both men were ready and commenced the work of chopping. It was to be a long, hard day's work and the spectators anxiously watched the progress.
Mr. Mullen's wife had cakes and hot coffee ready all the time for her husband to partake of at any time he could snatch a bite, which kept him in strength to endure through the whole day, and by so doing. he lost no time. But the other man chopped until noon, then ate a hearty dinner, then chopped until sun-down and then ate a hearty supper: then went to bed. But he never again got out of that bed alive. He died from the effects of that hard day's work.
Mr. Mullen did not go to bed, nor sleep at all. but walked the floor all night. He got along all right and also won the fifty dollars. The man that died chopped thirteen cords. Mr. Mullen thirteen and a half. I have known men who could chop, split, and cord up four cords on a June day of fourteen
38
HISTORY OF RICHLAND COUNTY
hours. And that was a big day's work, for it took as much, if not more, time to split and rack up, than to do the chopping. There were some fine men among these old pioneers seventy-five years ago.
My father was a good chopper and one of the most enterprising of the pioneers in his neighborhood. In twenty years he had one hundred acres of his timbered land cleared and made into a good farm. It was nicely arranged as to convenience for stock. A good frame house and a frame barn forty by seventy-two feet was built.
He was in good circumstances and prepared to live comfortably and enjoy life the balance of his days. * * Seventy five years have passed away. My father and mother, too, have left their homes on earth and are now enjoying their new home in the mansions of heaven.
A missionary by the name of Bigelow preached the gospel of peace to the Indians. The Rev. Mr. Bigelow's home was at Mansfield.
This Mr. Bigelow had a beautiful daughter who married a half-breed Indian chief. His name was Armstrong. This Mr. Armstrong entertained strangers and travelers, who, in passing their country, wished to put up over night with him. He was a very clever, sociable and affable gentleman and the writer has been entertained and has partaken of his hospitality more than once. I think it was about 1844 that the government bought their lands. They migrated far to the west.
When these Indians left their beautiful hunting grounds for regions beyond the Mississippi, Mrs. Armstrong, the Indian chief's wife, too, went along with them. She said "she would rather live with the Indians than with the white people." The Indians thought so much of her that they called her their queen, and they did all they could to make her enjoy her life and be happy.
In the course of time, Mr. Armstrong, the chief, had business at Wash- ington, for his tribe. While here, he visited the Rev. Mr. Bigelow, his father-in-law, at Mansfield. He took sick and died there. But his wife, the "white queen," never returned, saying that "she would rather live with the Indians." But white men bought the land and improved it.
REMINISCENCES OF A MINISTER.
The Rev. Charles Ashton, for many years a resident of this county, but later of Guthrie Center, Iowa, gives the following reminiscences of Frank- lin and Weller townships:
Late in the winter of 1840 and 1841 the two brothers, George and Samuel Leiter, then ministering to the congregation in that old church, started a protracted meeting therein. That locality was aflame with revival influence that winter. The Rev. John Quigley had gracious revivals at Franklin and Milton. John Boyce, then an aged man living at the "Five Corners," a man of limited education, but of strong common sense, then making no religious profession, but a reader of his Bible, was gloriously converted while tramping out wheat in his barn. His conversion resulted in the establishment of a Baptist congregation in that neighborhood and the
-
--
--
-
-
*
A GROUP OF RICHLAND COUNTY PIONEERS Taken in 1885, of whom only four are now living.
39
HISTORY OF RICHLAND COUNTY
building of the Baptist church there. The Baptists in that locality having previously worshiped at Windsor, where a Baptist church was previously built, and then had a man by the name of Taylor as its pastor.
We have distinct recollection of the religious services in that locality that winter. We attended the meetings at Franklin, Milton, Windsor, and the Leiter meetings in the Zeiter church. My father, mother, older brother and myself were among the number uniting that winter with the Franklin church. That winter the Washingtonian movement was active in the coun- try, and two of the original Baltimore Washingtonians held a temperance meeting in the Milton church. Many signed their pledge and the total abstinence movement received a grand impulse in that neighborhood. Whisky was banished from many farm houses, in which it had long been a a common drink. The old Gongwer and McBride distilleries lost patrons to the gain of sobriety, morals and happiness of the community.
The Leiter brothers were devout, godly men, but their meetings at the Zeiter church incited strong opposition. Its membership at that time was not noted for its spirituality. There were some devout, praying ones in the number. There were some who drank to excess, most indulged in the dram at logging, raisings and other frolics. Profanity was common in the church, and some regarded the protracted meetings as "too d-d Methodist." Divis- ion was created in the society. We went to the meeting one night and the hymn book was missing. The next night the Bible was gone, but the Leiters could hold meetings without Bible or hymn book. There were some con- versions in the meeting. The two elements in the society separated, the more spiritual built the church in the Clay neighborhood west of the old church. We believe it remains, but the Zeiter church was useless as a spirtual or moral force and passed away.
A member of the Zeiter church, John Kunkleman, then lived on the farm immediately west of my father's farm. Father and myself were at work at one time near the Kunkleman fence, cutting a fallen oak into rail cuts. Kunkleman came to where we were at work. He was an honest, obliging neighbor, but would and did swear. While we were at work some one at the Haymaker place, southwest of where we were a half mile, went to drawing water at the well with the old-style windlass. It made a fearful screeching for want of lubrication. The screeching was distinctly heard where we were at work. Kunkleman remarked: "There goes old Hay- maker, d-n his old soul. He was deacon of our church last year, but d-n him, while he was deacon he couldn't collect money enough to buy grease to grease his old windlass. He used the name of deity several times to make his expletives stronger. We have never forgotten Kunkleman and that swearing. His combination of the serious and profane, the deaconship in his church with the greasing of that windlass was the most ludicrous we ever heard.
We married and moved from that locality in 1845, but the list of names Mr. Baughman gave as served by R. F. D. R. No. 1 was to us of great inter- est. Many new ones to us were given, many of the old remain, but many are
40
HISTORY OF RICHLAND COUNTY
not mentioned. Where are the Bradleys, the Floras, Longs, Jumpers, and others?
But he gives the old ghost story with the black-dog combination. About sixty years ago there was a chopping in the neighborhood west of the Zeiters church. Dan Wolf, a young Dutchman, attended the chopping. He car- ried a maul and a couple of iron wedges to use in the industry of the day. Returning home that night, a company of the young men and women had to pass that church and then turn north on the "big road" to reach their homes. Nearing the Flora place the story of that ghost and that black dog came up. Wolf averred boldly what he would do to that black dog with his maul if it came about him. At the proper juncture for testing his cour- age, one of the party exclaimed: "There is that black dog!" Wolf slung the maul from his shoulder, but didn't wait to extricate the two iron wedges from his pocket, but got away from that place at as nearly a two-forty gait as his good active legs could take him.
We notice the name of James Powell in the list of persons served by that R. F. D. R. between the Zeiters church and the five corners. But then he is not the "Uncle Jimmy" Powell of our day. If we remember rightly, that James Powell had a son James. It may be he.
The week of the governor's election in October, 1844, the writer, with John Ward, William Palmer and Thomas Clingan, made a trip to Huron with wheat. Palmer and myself drove four-horse teams and old-style Penn- sylvania wagons with covers. At Huron we loaded with goods for Tanner and Weldon, in Mansfield. On Ward's wagon, a two-horse rig without cover, we loaded a barrel of filberts, one of peanuts, and two barrels billed as wine. Reaching the two-mile house from Huron, we borowed a gimlet and tapped one of those barrels. Using a straw as a medium of conveying the wine from the barrel to the stomach. The barrels of nuts both had holes cut in their heads so one nut at a time could be picked out. Palmer, Ward and myself, soon after leaving Huron, were on Ward's wagon, Ward sitting on the barrel of filberts. Palmer and Ward got into a scuffle. In the scuffle the head of the barrel was crushed in. I grabbed a part of it and threw it into a fence corner, and we delivered that barrel of nuts with the open head. John U. Tanner inquired as to how we lost the head of that barrel and proposed to weigh it, and charge us for the nuts missing. We plead off and promised not to repeat the act and he generously let us off.
In the road through the Johns farm we took our last drink of wine, plugged up the gimlet hole, drove the hoop back to its place, and so left the barrel without a visible scar. There were few barrels of wine or brandy hauled from the lake at that time but that were so tapped.
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.