USA > Ohio > Logan County > The historical review of Logan County, Ohio > Part 25
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In 1898, James A. Prall was a farmer living near Middleburg with If's wife, Alice. Owing to some family difficulty Mrs. Prall left her husband and went to live at Middle- burg with her friends, and filed a suit for divorce in the Logan Common Pleas Court. This was in June, 1898.
A short time after this, Prall went to Middleburg and calling his wife to the door attempted to persuade her to return and live with him, but Mrs. Prall, refusing to go back with him. he drew a revolver from his pocket and shot her, killing her instantly.
Prall then fled from the town and went across the fields towards his home. Ile was followed and the officers and others who were pursuing him, found him lying upon the floor of his home dead. He had shot himself and death had apparently been instantaneous.
Prall had up to within a very short time before this unfortunate occurrence been re- garded as a good man of the community and had been successful as a farmer.
The impression generally prevails that Prall's mind was unbalanced and many little matters are recalled to confirm these con- clusions.
THE AUSTIN MURDER.
Another horrible murder was the one committed by Earnest Austin, a young man of some twenty-four or five years of age, when on the 2ist of May, 1890. he mur- dered his brother William Austin, and his old mother, Mrs. Rachael Ann Austin.
Upon that morning Austin came crawl- ing up to a neighbor's house only partially clothed with a bullet wound in his body and claimed that thieves had attempted to rob them, and had killed, or attempted to kill the family and had fired the house. The blazing house, but a short distance away, evidenced the fire.
Austin was in a critical condition, but he told so many conflicting stories and at- tempted to implicate some neighbors that suspicion quickly pointed to him as the mur- derer and attempted self-destroyer; he was placed under arrest and as soon as he was able to travel was removed to the county jail.
Austin had been a soldier in the Span- ish-American war and had acquitted him- self with credit.
In the burning embers of the house was found the remains of the mother and her son. William Austin, and both bodies, al- though charred and burned bore marks of foul play inflicted before the fire.
Many theories were offered but no one seemed to be satisfactory and conclusive.
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The family was a quarrelsome and bad-tem-
In the examination of the case it was pered family and their contentions were no- discovered that two bullets had been torious.
The general drift of opinion was in the direction of pointing out Ernest Austin as the murderer of his mother and brother, and he was indicted, tried and convicted. being found guilty of murder in the first degree. and recommended by the jury to mercy.
Such a verdict carried with it under the law a life sentence, without the right to par- don or parole.
The case was carried to the circuit and supreme courts, but the verdict of the court below was sustained by both of these courts.
Austin is now serving his sentence in the Ohio penitentiary and paying the penalty of his awful erine.
THE MURDER OF AARON BURT.
In December. 1902. Aaron Burt, a very respectable man of considerable means. having come to this county from Bowers- ville. Green county, Ohio, was found mur- dered in Lake View.
Ore morning his house was discovered to be on fire and the neighbors going in quickly, put out the flames, but found the house saturated with coal oil and Burt's body lying upon the floor, his body also saturated with coal oil. He was dead from a bullet wound in the head.
The coroner carefully examined the body, and having thoroughly inquired into the case, deterre". cd that it could not have been a suicide, as there were none of the marks usually found in such cases to indi- cate that Burt had taken his own life. but that he had been murdered by some per- son unknown. A considerable sum of money which Burt was known to have in his possession had disappeared.
found in the house: one struck Burt and the other imbedded itself in the wall. Burt's pistol was found with two chambers empty, but the ball in Burt's body and the one in the wall were not of the same size as the one in Burt's revolver, being con- siderably larger. Burt was lying in the middle of the floor and coal oil had been poured over his body and over the floor. walls and curtains of the house. It was clearly a case of murder and not sucide, but no clue has been obtained to the murderers.
CHAPTER XVIIL
SOMINTO DOW-HENRY CLAY-THOS. CORWIN-FRED- ERICK DOUGLASS-COL. JOHN B. GOUCH-CASSIUS M. CLAY.
Among the interesting characters who visited Logan county in an early day was Lorenzo Dow. Ile was born in Connecti- cut and early became a minister. He was one of the most peculiar men that ever preached the gospel and at the same time a most eloquent and persuasive orator. He affected to despise forms and methods of worship and went from place to place as an itinerant missionary. He was a most independent and unassuming man, and yet it is not infrequently the case that these same persons make a study of eccen- tricity in order to obtain consideration and command attention. However this may be in Dow's case, he was a most interest- ing and peculiar character. and his ser-
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mons, although marked with less of polish than many of his ministerial associates, had a direct manner of appealing to his hearers that was especially effective.
At times he was personally entertain- ing and made himself agreeable to all with whom he came in contact, and again he was distant and even rude in his treatment of those who attempted to befriend him.
Ile not infrequently would make ap- pointments for meetings away ahead. sometimes as far off as a year or more. naming the month, day and hour, and then most punctually appear at the very mo- ment and begin preaching.
In 1826 he came to Bellefontaine and preached in the court-house square. He came from Kenton in a wagon and went away the same day to Champaign county. He also preached one time at Mt. Tabor. He was plain in his dress and peculiar, if not crazed. It is doubtful if Dow at this day would be regarded as little more than an itinerant crank, endowed. however. with a great gift of oratory and a per- suasive eloquence.
It is even possible, if not altogether probable, that he could have accomplished as much if not more in his Master's serv- ice by laying aside his own peculiarities and going about like Paul preaching the gospel.
However this may be. it is certain that Dow's peculiarities made him famous throughout the whole country and great flocks gathered to hear him preach wher- ever he went. He generally declined the invitation of the rich and took shelter with the poorer classes. Ile went to England and Ireland and attracted great attention abroad and finally died in 1834. having been an itinerant for forty years.
HENRY CLAY.
In one of the blank pages of a copy of the Life of Henry Clay. belonging to the lote William Hubbard. he wrote the fol- lowing description of Henry Clay's visit to Logan county, and it is the only men- tion of the great commoner's visit to this county that we have been able to find: "It was my good fortune to see Henry Clay. In 1838 he visited Zanesfield, as he then owned land in Logan county. He came in a plain carriage, accompanied by his son, a youth of eighteen or twenty. Of those present I remember Samuel Newell and Mr. Folsom conversed with him. Mr. Newell related the incident of the Dutch woman who embraced him in the court-room when he acquitted her son. I was a boy at the period of this visit, and so much did I stand in awe of him that I feared to approach and shake hands. He looked then like a hale man of fifty-five. He wore a linen round-about or jacket. had white pants strapped under his boots, I remember his delicate white hands, long and slender."
THOMAS CORWIN.
Perhaps no man ever led the political hosts in Ohio, and enjoyed so enviable a reputation as Thoma- Corwin, the wagon bay of 1840. He was at that time the great- est orator Ohio had produced, and his inim- itable stories, his fascinating manner and his marvelous eloquence had swept all, before him. He was elected governor of Ohio in 1845. Ile was a man of most marked abil- ity and both in Congress as a member of the cabinet and minister to Mexico he became equally distinguished. I remember him speaking in the public square of Bellefon-
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taine in the great Brough and Vallandhing- ham campaign of 1803.
FREDERICK DOUGLASS.
About 1853 or '54. Frederick Douglass. the great colored orator, delivered an ad- dress in the Methodist church in Belleion- taine. The church was crowded to its utmost and his address was a protest against human slavery. Mr. Douglass was one of the most polished and accomplished orators this com- try ever produced. He was born a slave but managed to secure his freedom by purchase of his master long before the days of eman- cipation and became a very distingushed leader of his race.
I remember afterwards of hearing Fred- erick Douglass in the Masonic Temple at Washington upon the occasion of the recep- ton of Dillon and Redmund, the great Irish leaders, and on the platform were some of the most distinguished of the representative men of the United States. When Frederick Douglass took the floor. Judge Stanley Matthews, of the supreme court of the United States, sitting beside me on the plat- form, remarked to me: "You are now lis- tening to the greatest master of the English language."
JOHN B. GOUGH.
About the year 1850 or '51, John B. Gough, at that time recognized as the great- est temperance orator, visited Bellefontaine and delivered a temperance speech in Nel- son and Robinson's Grove just opposite the Hubbard residence on Columbus avenue.
At that time he was unquestionably one of the most eloquent men in the country and his addresses were listened to by the thousands.
haps thirty-five of forty years of age and with a fluency of speech and aptness of il- lustration that were most effective. His speech was larded with good stories and among them Idistinctly recall the one about Betsy and the bear.
The crowd that gathered to hear him was at that day regarded as very large. Once afterwards he lectured in the opera house but it was after he had grown old and lost his power and forcefulness.
CASSIUS M. CLAY.
In his day Cassius M. Clay, was in Ken- tucky. little less celebrated than his distin- guished relative, Henry Clay. He was a hold and fearless advocate of human free- dom, and in the very midst of slavery was an ardent and out-spoken abolitionist. Many stories are told of his encounters with the slave power and its defenders. He carried his life and bowie knife in his hands at the same time, and his bloody personal encoun- ters would ff! volumes. He still lives at an advanced age with a mind shattered by age and infirmity. He once visited in Bellefon- taine and spoke at a large poltical meeting. Hle stopped with Judge Lawrence who had been an ardent admirer and had named a young son after the Kentuckian.
CHAPTER XIX.
POETS AND POETRY-COATES KINNEY-GEN. ABRAM S. PIATT-WILLIAM HUBBARD MISS EFFIE K. PRICE - THOS. HUBBARD - C.H. BONN PIATT- JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY.
Logan county cannot boast of a long list Hle was comparatively a young man, per- of those inspired by the muse, but still can 13
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count among the number of those who have the rarest and purest gems, andi become the given something worth reserving a number setting of the choicest jewels within out of her native as well as of her adopted sons gift. and daughters. COATES KINNEY.
Poets are born, not made, and there is no school of poetry to instill into the minds and hearts of men and women that touch of fancy and measure of rhyme and rythm that appeals to the senses with its sweetness, or finds a deeper and more lasting place in the hearts of men.
Some of the sublimest. as well as the tenderest thoughts in all the language, have Leen conveyed through the poet's pen.
The blind Milten wrote with the pen of inspiration and his marvelous flights of fancy and his wonderful genius have neither been excelled nor equaled in all the ranks of men.
Whittier and Longfellow told the stories of life. home and country, with that tender pathos that found a resting place in every heart. Eugene Field sung the secrets of the loving little cherub hngers and his wingless seraphs are bringing the home and its fire- light nearer to Heaven.
James Whitcomb Riley has given to the world some of its most beautiful thoughts. and his songs are weaving themselves into the web and finding a place in the lamp- light and the fire-light of every loving home.
Logan county has produced, or at one time been the home of some of the literati. and there are some gems of thought which found their ways into the carly publications of the county press which are destined to live long after their authors have passed to the great beyond.
They are like the pebbles upon the beach. which, being cast hither and thither by the tides for a time are at last discovered to be
Among those who at one time were residents of Bellefontaine, was Coates Kin- ney. He came here, if my memory serve- me right, with a man named Gould. taught school in what was at that time the ok! Seceder church. I know that when a los ! went to school to Coates Kinney and Goul !. This must have been as early as 1848 or '50. Kinney was a man of education and fine literary attainments, and in some mea ?- ure a dreamer.
He afterwards for a short time, in com- pany with William Barringer, edited a paper in West Liberty, but finally drifted away. and for many years has been a resident of Greene county, and has been prominent as a literature and editorial writer.
While in Bellefontaine he boarded at the old Union House. at that time kept by Walter Slicer. It is said that it was while in this house that lie wrote the poem which has since become so famous, and has made his name a household word.
It is not always the long and tedious labor of the workman that brings fame and fortune, but it is some inspiration from out of which spring great words or the tender touching pathos that finds its place forever in the hearts of men.
So John Howard Payne, in the cold and cheerless streets of the great city, looking; through the windows at the fire, warmth and comfort within, from the depths of his heart-aches and tender recollections of the past, sent that wondrous melody to forever float among the streams of time, and touch the hearts of generations yet un-
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born, when he gave to the world its ten- derest and its sweetest song. "Home, Sweet Home."
Thomas Buchanan Reed has added an inspiration to the record and "Sheridan's Ride" will go down the valley long after all those who served with Sheridan have been called to muster on the fields beyond.
In the old Union House, under the roof, listening to the patter upon the shingles. Coates Kinney has given to the world a poem scarcely less pathetic and touching than Payne's, and has put his name within the niche upon fame's gilded temple, where it will remain for all the ages.
This poem must have been written prior to 1849. We give it as the work of one who was for a time identified with the early education and literature of the county.
RAIN ON THE ROOF.
When the humid shadows hover Over all the starry spheres. And the melancholy darkness Gently weeps in rainy tears, What a joy to press the pillow Ot a cottage chamber bed. And to listen to the patter Of the soft rain over-head.
Every tinkle on the shingles Has an echo in the heart; And a thousand dreamy faneies Into busy beings start. And a thousand recollections Weave their bright hues into woof, As I listen to the patter Of the rain upon the roof.
Now in faney comes my mother. As she used to. years agone. To survey her darling dreamers. Ere she left them till the dawn; O! I see her bending o'er me, As 1 list to this retrain Which is played upon the shingles By the patter of the rain.
Then my little seraph sister
With her wings and waving hair, And her bright eyes cherub brother A serene, angelie pair. Glide around my wakeful pillow, With their praise or mild reproof.
As I listen to the murmer Of the soft rain on the roof.
And another comes to thrill me, With her eye's delicious blue; And forget 1, gazing on her, That her heart was all untrue: I remember but to love her. With a rapture kin to pain And my heart's quick pulses vibrate To the patter of the rain.
There is nought in arts bravuras. That ean work with such a spel! In the spirit's pure, deep fountains, Whence the holy passions well. As that melody of nature, That subdued. subduing strain Which is played upon the shingles, By the patter of the rain.
GENERAL ABRAM S. PIATT.
The Piatts seems to have been espec- ially gifted, and there are a number of dis- tinguished writers within its family.
John James Piatt. while never a resi- dent of Logan county is closely identified with the family in this county, and has spent much of his time in the valley of the Macachack, and it is here that some of his sweetest songs have been inspired.
General Abraham S. Piatt has spent almost his entire life in the valley of the Macachack, coming when a boy to a home which was then within the wilderness but is now in the very midst of the gardens of the west.
His life has been one of busy activity and although his occupation is that of a farmer he has always been devoted to
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literature and has from time to time sent in the old Logan Gazette office. in Belle- ont from his home poems inspired by the beauty of his surroundings.
Ilis loyalty and devotion to his coun- try asserted itself in 18o1. when he ma- terially assisted in the raising of a brigade for the Union armies: advancing from his own purse large amounts for arms and equipments. He rose to the rok of a General officer and served with distinction throughout the war.
The following poem is from his pen.
DAISY.
Could you but list the waterfall. Its laughing. willful song! How years now gone its tones recall. While gurgling swift along! It tells thy name-its words repeat (The past lives o'er in this) The quickening of thy heart's soft beat. When parting from my kiss.
Ah. daisy! know the birds yet sing, Above the water's flow; They warble blithely, on the wing. Of limes now long ago. While flitting there, sweet Daisy dear, They stole thy heart's song-nest. To me 'tis left but to revere The birds and streams so blest.
Another love has won thy heart. But not thy gentle ways; They live within these scenes apart. The theme of other days. Ah, it is mine; the birds and stream Yet tell it o'er to me: How sweet it is! though but a dream Within my heart to ho.
WILLIAM HUBBARD.
William Hubbard was born in West Liberty. Logan county, in 1821. In 1832. at the age of eleven years, he went to learn the printers' trade with Hiram B. Strother.
fontaine, and served here until 1837. When he became publisher of the Gazette. He studied law and was admitted to the bar and for two terms was Prosecuting Attor- ney of Logan county, but his tastes were literary, and in 1846 he returned to the Gazette. in 1847 he became its owner. He continued in the newspaper business until his death at Napoleon, Ohio, where he was editor of The Northwest. Mr. Hubbard was a most gifted and polished writer. of an exceedingly modest and re- tiring disposition, and many of his best writings, by reason of this, never found their way beyond the local newspapers.
He contributed from time to time to his own paper and occasionally to other periodicals, and some of the poetical writ- ings which fell from his pen were gems. which should have been gathered into book form, and preserved for other gen- erations. We give but a single poem from his pen which evidences the tenderness and sympathy of his rature, and which as a pastoral deserves place among the choic- est of the land.
THE OLD ROAD.
I stroll once more in the well known way Where the path to school in my childhood lay, And a thousand objects arise to view Which my boyhood loved. when my life was new.
Still the river winds in the vale below. Where the willows droop, and the lilies grow. And the black-bird sings on the hawthorne tree The song which of yore he sung to me.
The green old hills rear their summits high. Till they seem to blend with azure sky. And rivers and hills, and sky are the same Which they were when of old by this road I eame.
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HISTORICAL REVIEW OF LOGAN COUNTY.
See! Here is the oak whose branches spread.
Their shadows over my youthful head.
And the mossy stone, where I sat at noon.
When the sun shone fair in the sky of June.
A score of years have passed away. Since I went to school, on the dusty way, Since 1 gazed on the river, and tree and hill.
Which gladdens the sight with their beauty still.
I see the school house old and lone,
With its elap-board roof, and its chimney of stone,
Lo! The children rush from the door to play, On the common green on this sunny day.
They frolic and romp, in riotous glee. They whoop and call. but not to me! Nor do they dream that years ago, I played with my fellows, as they do now.
Playmates of mine: you're scattered and gone: Our teacher sleeps in the churchyard lone. Yet I love to stroll on the well known way, Where the path to school in my boyhood lay.
MISS EFFIE K. PRICE.
One of the finished writers of Logan county is Miss Effie K. Price. the daughter of Judge John .A. Price.
She was for many years engaged in the work of the Young Women's Christian Association, and was its Secretary. She was born and raised in Bellefontaine, but is now a resident of New York state.
We give a single poem from her pen.
THE AFTERGLOW.
The sun has fled, before the steps of coming night. And the tall trees their purple shadows throw: But still the sky is tinged with mellow light- The tender radiance of the afterglow.
Oh love, my life, my sun. thy warmth has fled, And I along the purple shadows of my heart may know;
But in life's twilight I am comforted.
For still there shines for me sweet memories afterglow.
THOMAS DUBBARD.
Mr. Thomas Hubbard was for many years connected with the public press, and his going in and coming out. was as familiar to the people of Logan county as that of any man within its history.
He was born and reared in Logan county, and the seventy-eight years of his life were almost entirely spent within it.
During all of that time, from boyhood to manhood, and from manhood to age. he was engaged in editorial work. He had seen the country come from its carlier and ruder beginnings until it was clothed in the richer raiment of a splendid and pros- 1 erous civilization. He had tasted of the hardships of a semi-frontier, and had been enabled by reason of his own experience to know the difference between the cabin of the back-woodsman and the more pala- tial residences of a later day generation.
Gifted as a writer. with a tinge of pathos, and a true understanding of the meter and measure of the real poetry of human life, Thomas Hubbard might have added his name to the list of those whom the world has placed in the niches of en- during fame, had he but given over to it the deep intensity which burns and em- blazons the poets' lines into the hearts of the ages. Now and then the poetic tem- perament, which was hidden like a crystal in the depths of the sea, would come float- ing to the surface. or like some fleecy cloud. passing in the midst of a summer's day, and we catch him touching "the harp that hung in Tara's halls" or telling in poetic strains the story of the hope that inspired his belief. and left us wondering that he did not give himself over to the enchantress whose songs are tender as the
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touch of morning, and whose wings are sweeping the chords that are forever echo- ing down the centuries.
We give a couple of gems from his pen.
"FORGET-ME-NOT." "Forget-forget me not!" Vain, piteous linman prayer! We all are doomed to be forgot : It is, alas! the common lot Of mortals everywhere.
"Tis everywhere the same; Over the olden stone That bears the once dear dead one's name. Whom love and tears could not reclaim. The willow weeps alone!
There is no sadder thought Of death and its sweet rest Than that we are so soon forgot- E'en in those hearts remembered not. That we have loved the best.
It bath been so, and must So be for aye and aye; And though it seemeth hardly just, Affection will not cling to dust, Nor linger with decay.
Where'er above the dead The gentle willow waves. The warmest tears are ever shed.' The freshest flowers ever spread. Over the freshest graves! Thomas Hubbard in Belford's.
THE HAUNT OF NEVERMORE.
I was musing of emotions. That may thrill me ne'er again- Sweet emotions of the gladsomenos, Of boyhoods blissful reign: I was calling back a morning Of a long evanished day. When I strayed along the river In the glory of the May.
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