The History of Wyandot County, Ohio, containing a history of the county, its townships, towns general and local statistics, military record, portraits of early settlers and prominent men etc, Part 58

Author:
Publication date: 1884
Publisher: Chicago, Leggett, Conaway
Number of Pages: 1072

USA > Ohio > Wyandot County > The History of Wyandot County, Ohio, containing a history of the county, its townships, towns general and local statistics, military record, portraits of early settlers and prominent men etc > Part 58

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To run the peanut stand. But I had heard of battles, and you bet, I stole a dollar fron the old man and left; And if you want anything out of me, old rooster, Just come down out of that flour-barrel."

Young Norval, who represented a Scottish peasant, was in reality a changeling and the heir of a king; hence he was dressed in a waist of blue paper muslin, with pantaloons to match. He looked lovely in low neck and short sleeves, and the brass ring borrowed for his left hand com- pleted the costume. He just felt big enough to square himself at Edwin Forest, but he didn't. The rest of the company looked handsome in con- ventional dramatics, and carried off the applause and several baskets of bouquets, which were thrown upon the stage by fellows in the pit, whom Col. Jont. Ayres had hired for the occasion.

Miss Mattie Ayres, a very beautiful and accomplished young lady, and a great favorite with our people, impersonated Lady Montague with rare ability, and won the honors of the society.

Miss Rumina Ayres was another brilliant young lady, who exhibited re-

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markable histrionic talent. She is now the wife of Hon. John McClure, of Little Rock, Ark., and one of the most accomplished ladies in the South.

There's a young man in town who revels in the tragic name of Frank Edwin, whom many of our people have seen fit to compliment for rare tal- ent in a dramatic way, but he " wasn't a patching" to his illustrious sire as the noble Young Norval of early days, in low neck and short sleeves.

The Amidelphians repeated their tragedy to another crowded house, and then disbanded. Only two of that remarkable society remain as citizens of Upper Sandusky. The others are scattered-several of them sleeping the sleep that knows no waking.

Of the orchestra, William Ayres and Deacon McGill have passed over the river, leaving behind the tenderest feelings of respect. Mr. Roberts is still here, and one of our honored and amiable citizens. Does he still play the clarionet ? Well, no-he's entirely too healthy. Years ago he gave his clarionet to Maj. Sears, and this loved instrument, together with the Bible kissed by our sons of Malta, and a Confederate dollar bill, are resting in the Major's museum as relics of by-gone glory. And Col. Ayres -- grand and glorious Jont .; he never gets an hour older, and is still the genial and lively gentleman he was forty years ago-always ready to get up a dance, or take his place behind the scenes.

Callie Doolittle, a charming girl, is now out West, happily married to a prosperous Yankee by the name of O'Brien, and the mother of several beautiful children.

Isaac Newton Ayres, one of the brightest young men Upper Sandusky ever produced, died in the bloom of manhood, when his paths were full of promise, and his sacred dust now lies in a distant State, where the troubled Missouri, in its onward flow to the Gulf, sings a requiem for the departed.

Frank Huber, another brilliant fellow, always sparkling with wit and the life of his young circle, met death at an early age and was con - quered. And so of poor Howell Morrison, who lived but a short year to survive the glory of Amidelphian honors. Wean Beals always good-look- ing and the Beau Brummel of those times, is a distinguished politician in Indiana, making his residence at Bourbon. A Whig then, was Wean; but now a Democrat and a prominent county official.

And Charley Bagley-good old-fashioned Charley Bagley-with almost the brains of Webster and the genius of Franklin, it remained for him- Bagley -- to go through the trials and tribulations of life, and to find hap- piness in being much married and the father of a numerous family. He went to Cario, Ill., where the rivers meet, and where mosquitoes blockade that American delta against the tide of emigration; but as Charley was mosquito-proof, he got fat on turtle soup and married a widow with six children. The lapse of a single decade brought him a half dozen more; and __. on death threw its pall over his cherished wife. In this bereavement we n see thus great sympathetic heart wrung almost to the verge of suicide, ! _ t like all other widowers, he waltzed around with a crape on his hat, until he found an old maid who was willing to mother a lot of second-hand chil- dren with the prospect of adding to the stock as years advanced. This last enterprise yielded six more Bagleys-my God! Charley still lives, and a year ago, he sent the sketcher a photograph of himself and family, and says he, " dear Bob, I would have sent this months ago, but I was waiting for the eighteenth! ( Observe how sweetly my little Ami toys with her pet alligator, while Delphian is tugging at its tail; and that two hundred- ¿ ounder on the left, with the bronze jewelry, is named 'Mattie,' in honor

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of our favorite, the gifted and accomplished ' Lady Montague ' of our young - er days."

Of the Amidelphian Society, only two remain in Upper Sandusky- grandmother and the gray-headed fiddler.

THE EXODUS.

In 1848, the news came from the newly discovered El Dorado, that mountains of silver and valleys of gold were lying around loose, and that anybody with a mule and cart and a barrel of whisky could become a mil- lionaire in a few days. All he had to do was to treat the natives, and haul away the metal. A few nuggets of gold were shown to our citizens by a fellow who strutted our streets with a watch chain made of grizzly teeth, and that settled it. Bill Giles offered to sell or give away his printing office; old Andy McIlvain pulled down the blinds of the only aristocratic hotel we had; and other of our people refused their usual meals and tossed their better halves out of bed in wrestling with nightmares that were drop- ping down upon them whole tons of precious gold. They had it bad, and soon a party was formed to cross the plains. Bill Giles loaned the Pioneer office to his brother, Lige and Josiah Smith, and donned the dress and accouterments of a fighting guerrilla. He had Deacon McGill forge him three or four bowie knives out of rat-tail files, and with a revolutionary musket and a pocket cannon he announced his readiness to drive an ox-team or do the cooking on buffalo chips. Old Andy McIlvain wrapped himself in a blanket and said he was ready to ride in that ox-team and demolish the provender. Also waiting to join the caravan were Col. Aaron Lyle, Will- iam McIlvain, Swayne McIlvain and several others whose names we cannot call to mind, including a sprightly nigger, named Buck, who had been raised by the Garrets. This Buck, with the strength of Hercules, was active as a cat, and as saucy as he was active. A short distance out on the plains Buck was found with a hole through his head, and consequently it was supposed that he died suddenly for want of breath, but as it was only one nigger less for grizzly feed, the party moved on. Before the plains were overcome, poor Bill McIlvain, and that large generous hearted fellow, Col. Lyle, who was seeking health instead of gold, surrendered to the pale horse and his rider, and left their bones on the desert wastes of the Great West.

Bill McIlvain was a promising young man, about to enter the law, but a blighted love for one who also felt the bitterness of the shock, made him reckless to do and dare, and his sad fate was more the result of piercing heart-throbs than the wreck of health from exposure.

Col. Lyle was a brilliant young lawyer, who came here from Lancaster, Ohio, with the Beerys; his long and severe application while a student had impaired his health, and the hectic flush that mingled with his smiles and good humor, was a warning which thrilled his friends with the gravest apprehensions. It was death to remain; an overland trip might revive a shattered constitution, and still make life the dream of his ambition; but hope in its struggle with disease soon ended in the death of that grand, good fellow, who was loved and esteemed by all our citizens.

Swayne McIlvain, after an experience of several weeks on the plains, got scared at a moccasin track, and took the first balloon for Sandusky. He denied the soft impeachment, giving as a reason for his sudden re- appearance, "that father thought he had better go home and prepare a cave or two for the nuggets."

Of the party, Bill Giles and old Andy McIlvain drove their ox-team in

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sight of the Pacific, and ordered the natives to bring out their gold dust if they wanted it panned out.

McIlvain, who had never done anything in his life but bow to fellow-citizens from a hotel door, commencing at the American in Colum- bus, and ending with a house at Upper Sandusky, didn't believe in exer- cising the pick and shovel; but he would go into a hay speculation with Bill Giles, and he did. Andy got the profits, and Bill got the hay. Bill has still some of that crop on hand, and will get up on a fence and swear till the sulphur oozes down into his boots every time he passes a hay stack. After Bill had killed his Ingin, fought a grizzly, and started and published two papers in California, he returned to Upper Sandusky and resumed pub- lication of the Pioneer.

Others, from time to time, left for the Golden State, among them our genial and popular friend, William Bearinger. During the first excite- ment Mr. Bearinger had no idea of leaving his then prosperous business for allurements in the apparent verdure of far-off hills, but a dream unset- tled his mind. He dreamed that he was in the heart of the Rockies, and was moving along gracefully on a pair of six-foot snow shoes, when all at once he came to a very stylish and fashionable gulch. He looked over the declivity and saw that he could slide down with comparative ease, and he did. At the bottom there was a lump of gold that he could just raise a lit- tle by straining several of his left ribs, and he gave them a twist. To carry it up the incline on snow shoes was impossible, and in the act of shouting for help, he woke up. He could still see, however, the beautiful gulch, the huge lump of gold at its bottom, and the trees all around which he had blazed to mark the spot. He goes to Dr. McConnell, tells him his dream, and asks for advice. "Go, by all means, sir," said the doctor, "ex- amine every hole in the Rockies; be sure you don't miss a gulch; go sir, for if you don't, that lump of gold will haunt you forever." So William started for the golden shore by way of the gulches, and found the identical spot that appeared to him in his dream. In a year or two he returned well pleased over his trip, with a sly wink that it had been agreeably successful. Everybody thought he had that gold lump, and they would examine his left ribs to see if they were in a twist from heavy lifting, and would scratch around his shop at night to see where he had hid it, and would try to call William out on heavy articles; about how much a man could lift you know, without affecting the lower part of his thorax, and how much he couldn't, perhaps; and one fellow would swear that no hunk of gold that ever was born would weigh 200 pounds; and that he would like to see the chunk of gold that he couldn't hold out at arm's length, and he would bet William $50 that California wasn't much of a place for big lumps of gold anyhow, and he never would believe some of them stories until he saw the nuggets." And then William would smile so aggravatingly, and tell the boys " to not be in a hurry-'twasn't late yet," and then he would go to the shop window, and look out uneasily, as if he had something hid near the bark pile, while the boys would shy around on the other side of the fence and look for fresh dirt. So whether William's dream was ever realized is not known to this day. One thing is certain, he has never been out of humor since he returned from California, and the sketcher still thinks that William found that monster nugget; that he has it hidden under some barn, and as soon as two or three more of our old fellows die, he'll dig it out and by the town.

[NOTE. - These sketches will embrace a full expose of the Sons of Malta,

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with amusing scenes connected with the initiation of Hon. R. McKelly, James G. Roberts, Col. S. H. Hunt, Gen. Kirby, Dr. Henderson, Dr. J. M. Rhoads, William Marlow, and other prominent parties, and will particularly indicate at what point in the ceremony these gentlemen were unable to " hold their oats." Rich ? Well, you can just bet. Nothing but a thous- and dollar check will prevent the calamity. ]

JOHN N. REED.

A pleasing character of our olden times was John N. Reed. He was ons of the men designed by nature to be accommodating. Nothing pleased John N. so well as to render his neighbor a service. He was truly a good old man, living one day with the hope of existing the next; looking upon futur- ity as so much space to enjoy life, and picking up what little jobs of paint- ing that were strewed along his eventful pathway. John N. always wore a smile upon his face, unless a tender chord of sympathy was touched, and then a tear would glisten in that benevolent eye, weeping for every misfort- une but his own. He filled his circle of usefulness well, but gained little beyond the pleasure it afforded him. God made this class of men, and it was part of His infinite wisdom.

At the sick bed he was a ministering angel, rich in words of encourage- ment, with the tender care of a mother's gentle hand. He sought no reward in caring for those who found comfort in his presence, and when death came, his big heart would share in the distress of bereaved friends. The world may have called John N. a thriftless fellow, but how barren it would be of kindly offices if such men did not exist. It takes a variety of people to form a world, and if the John N.'s had never risen to the surface, Earth, with all its Solomons and its several Cleopatras, would have been a failure.

John N. dropped into Upper Sandusky from Columbiana County, and had the honor of kicking out of his paint shop Gen. Morgan and Clement L. Vallandigham; for, although John was goodness itself, he would some- times get mad when the little Morgans and Vallandighams would steal his putty to make marbles, sprinkle sand in his paint, and put a bur in his pan- taloons where it would scratch the most good. But notwithstanding all this, John N. would frequently say that George and Val. were the brightest little fellows he ever saw, always sleeping with one eye open to study up some devilment.

As John N. and Bill Giles were from the same town, and as Bill was another of the bad little boys who assisted George and Val. in their depre- dations against the paint shop, the Pioneer office was John N.'s usual place of resort, and he and Bill would have it for hours in discussing old times. Bill couldn't think of, speak of, or suggest anything about New Lisbon or its people that wasn't perfectly familiar to John N. He was right on the spot when all the interesting incidents occurred, and helped to lay out the wounded, so to speak, if any laying out were necessary as a part of the re- cital. And when Bill inquired if he remembered the time when Lafayette quartered his troops on the common south of town, John N. was in raptures. " Didn't he? Oh, William, how you do revive old memories! Can I ever forget it! Did you never hear of me and Lafe going across the bridge to old Kate's, and whipping an Englishman with a wart on his nose for calling Gen. Washington a coward?" "Washington a coward," says I, " who fit the battle of Waterloo? And with that I knocked the Englishman into fragments; and the last I saw of Lafe, he was sweeping up the pieces for dog feed. Yes, William, I was a pretty active young man-a good deal

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like my Jimmie, when climbing for coons, or skirmishing at a primary election."

John N. was at one time our honored coroner. He presided with the dignity of true Statesmanship; and when a dead body was found, with the glamour of violence casting its witchery over the ghastly sight, John N. was among the stars, surrounded by a halo of hallelujahs, with angelic wings sprouting out from all parts of his body. Old, old was John, but a stiff unknown in death, with the mystery of terrible incidents, threw over him the enchanting spell of active youth, and he was everywhere in a minute, commanding reverence and consideration in the name of the law!

One beautiful Sabbath morning, the news came that a child was found in the river, toying with the ripples, a ghastly corpse! This intelligence illumined the serene countenance of the old coroner, and before his toilet was made, he was at the banks of the Lower Ford, peering into its crystal depths for the misery which sprinkles life with so many sorrowful accounts. He saw it-a dead babe! Very small, thought the Coroner, yet large enough to contain a human soul! It had scarcely caught a gleam of the beautiful sunlight, ere the pallor of death unfolded the glimpses of another world. " Oh, a beautiful babe," said the Coroner, "and must I, must I, in my old age, d-n these careless girls, who steal into the balmy air at night to feast upon the deceptive watermelon." He gloated over the beautiful lineaments of the miniature corpse, as it glinted in the ripples and sunbeams, deplor- ing the depravity of human nature when misfortune overtakes the wayward, every now and then casting a suspicious glance over the crowd of men to see if he could detect a resemblance. Presently, the dead remains were fished to shore under the artistic skill of the old Coroner. His delight was only equaled by his enthusiasm; and when some one suggested that it was hairy and very like a cat, his indignation knew no bounds. You could see by the beads of sweat that scintillated with prismatic power from his anxious and agitated brow that he was suffering the pangs of a terrible disappointment, but be- fore he would give in, he appealed to the boys to look around among the bushes for a fur-coated Australian belle, who had broken loose from a side- show, and put in the balance of the season in fooling around a camp-meet- ing. By this time, it was very apparent that the corpse was an unfortunate Maltese of tender growth which rude hands had cast into the river. For many days after, the boys would mew at the Coroner, but the graceful old man bore it all with the resignation;of a martyr, frequently inviting them to the Blue Hall Corner for refreshments.

The old man, however, never fully recovered from this cat-astrophy, and it was ever after one of the clouds which shrouded his usual happy disposi- tion.

In addition to being Coroner, he held for years the position of court- cher, and took a pleasurable delight in calling that body to order. It was generally in a sonorous voice of great volume: "Hear he, hear ye, hear ye, the Court of Common Pleas is now in session. Those who have causes to present, will now come forward and present them, and defendants must be in readiness at the call of the Judge. Lawyers may try their good- looking divorce cases in the back room. At a pleasant wink, Col. Kirby will vacate the office and go across the street to see a man."

John N. would do without his meals most any time to be on hand to pen and close the sessions of court. The position seemed to exalt his na- tre, and to miss one of these opportunities was to him a source of the deep- est distress. One afternoon when the old gentleman was enjoying a com-

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fortable snooze, and the court and counsel were busily engaged in consider- ing an interesting point in evidence, a wag tapped John N. on the shoulder and told him it was time to adjourn court. He immediately sprang to his feet, and rubbing his eyes, yelled at the top of his voice "Hear ye, hear ye, hear ye, the court"-but the balance of the cry was lost in an outburst of laughter in which the court and bar joined with a hearty zest. It was the most mortifying blow that ever befell John N., and it took him four hours to explain to Judge Bowen the cause of his drowsiness and at what particular point in his dream the impudent fellow tapped him upon the shoulder. The Judge intimated that he might go this time, but if he ever indulged in such another disturbance there would be a dead court crier.

John N. remained court crier until the rebellion broke out, when he went into the service as body-guard to Col. Mccutchen. He came back flush with honors and took up his residence at Kirby where he died a few years after. He was a good old man who had a feeling of friendship for everybody, and against whom no one ever uttered a harsh word.

[NOTE-Sketch, No. 211, by request, contains a graphic account of Rappe's Wagon Trade with the Indian-" Maybe Canton, maybe no Canton -heap black stripe on hub, dam lie-fool Ingin." McGregor, of the Stark County Democrat, has offered a thousand dollars for the exclusive right to publish this sketch, but Mack is wasting his spirit of enterprise, as this "American Author" writes only for THE UNION. ]

OUR FIRST CONSTABLE.

Faded, perhaps, from the memory of most of our people, is the jovial face of one, who was somewhat conspicuous here in early days. Ile was dressed in the brief authority of Constable, and one of the first that hon- ored the township of Crane. He was a small man, a little stooped in the shoulders, with a red face that sported a sharp nose, and a pair of eyes that winked continually an assumption of knowledge on all points and phases connected with his official duties. He could write his name, as a parrot asks for a cracker, and further in the routine of educational exploits he could do but little; what he lacked in early advantages was more than made up in that peculiar cunning which follows the van of adventure, and what he did not know he never hesitated to assume, trusting to luck and that genius which enables nature to overcome obstacles. He was a pleasant fel- low, so gifted in his habits, that he he could render the asperities of his authority with such a degree of suavity, that you could lose your last cow, by the virtue and force of a remorseless execution, and yet feel a pleasurable delight in his presence. When those impenetrable eyes were not winking, they were weeping, not over the trials and vicissitudes of his own life, but over the unpleasantness of his position in being compelled to oppress his neighbor and fellow-citizen; yet, he always made it a point to add a score of mileage to his costs to cover any little discrepancy his benev- olent nature may have overlooked in its struggle with sympathy. Was he popular ? There were few so well and pleasingly favored; and had he re- mained here a hundred years, and vacillated to all points of the political compass, he would still have ornamented our little writs of process with " S. Riggins, Constable."

He was familiarly called "Sam," and seemed to relish this simple at- tachment to his name, although his official signature was never failing in the inevitable "S." He seemed to take peculiar pride in that twisted capi- tal, which he painted rather than wrote, allowing the Riggins to take care

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of itself. His ambition in the science of chirography commenced and ended with the capital "S." The Riggins was a mere pastime of a few hiero- glyphics.

Naturally, one of Sam's exultant disposition created in many a desire to put it to the test. He was known to be alert in everything that came under his notice, or to his knowledge by virtue of his official position, so one night, a messenger, white with excitement. informed him, in a voice choked with consternation, that a murder had been committed at Allen Sane's gro- cery; that the ghastly corpse was still dripping with blood, and that the murderer armed with a corn-cutter was standing over the inanimate form, defying arrest. Did Samuel pale before this picture of desperation, and complain of an uneasiness below his vest? Nothing of the kind. He im- mediately jumped into his boots and was flying for the scene of carnage before he had arranged his toilet. The messenger who carried his coat while Sam was fooling with his shirt collar abstracted his revolver and re- placed it with a corn-cob. Sam threw on his coat as he came to Sane's door, and bursting in, saw a sight that was calculated to freeze the blood of any ordinary mortal. The ruffian with a corn-cutter dripping with blood was still brandishing it over the prostrate body of his victim, and threatening death to any one who came within reach. Sam placed himself before the murderer, and with the power vested in him by the statutes in such case made and provided, demanded a surrender in the name of the State of Ohio. "The State of Ohio be d-d," said the murderer, making a bloody thrust at the Constable. At this breach of respect for an officer of the law, Sam pulled his revolver to find it a corn-cob! Here was a predicament that the Constable had not contemplated. He was defenseless before an in- furiated outlaw, armed with a corn-cutter, and with one victim already dead at his feet! But Sam hesitated at nothing. He flew at the giant, grasped his sturdy right arm, and in a short struggle, wrenched the weapon from

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The History of Wyandot County, Ohio, containing a history of the county, its townships, towns general and local statistics, military record, portraits of early settlers and prominent men etc, Part 58

Author: Publication date: 1884 Publisher: Chicago, Leggett, Conaway Number of Pages: 1072

Author:
Publication date: 1884
Publisher: Chicago, Leggett, Conaway
Number of Pages: 1072