USA > Ohio > Licking County > Granville > The history of Granville, Licking County, Ohio > Part 5
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The land was valued to every member of the company at $167.30 per one hundred acres, each one paying in addition to this, for his choice of location, whatever he bid. Each one hundred acres drew a town lot, and for the choice of these, again bids were received.
The first farin lot bid off was by Timothy Spelman, Esq. He paid for his choice $138. It was the farm adjoining town on the northeast, through which Clear Run passes, and on which the flouring inill stands.
The largest purchase as to acres was that of Lieutenant Jesse Munson, who received a deed for 1500 acres at the company's price. His bids being added, his tract cost him $3043.80. The next in size was that of James Sinnet, one thousand acres, his biddings increasing the cost to $1776.50.
60
DIVISION OF LOTS.
· The next was that of Jesse Munson, Jr., eight hundred acres. It does not appear that he bid anything for his choice, as his land is charged at the company's price, $1338.40. The next is that of Timothy Spelman, seven hundred acres, costing $1997.80. The next was Cornelius Slocum's six hundred acres, costing $1594.65. Levi Buttles, Job Case, David Messenger, Silas Winchel, Joseph Linnel, William Cooley, Jr., William Gavit, and Samuel Thrall, received deeds for five hundred acres each, at an additional cost for choice varying from $898.50 to $1601.70.
Some paid nearly as much for their choice as they did for their land, while others paid nothing for a choice. The ag- gregate of these biddings was not far from $20,000. When this came to be distributed to the members of the company, some of them received in their dividend nearly or quite as much as their land cost them ; they thus getting a farm at the expense of those who paid for a choice above them. About eighty persons received their farms and village lots thus by paying a premium for their choice.
While the sale of lots at vendue was proceeding, a com- mittee of three (Noadiah Holcomb, James Coe, and Joab Griffin) was appointed to digest a plan by which the further division of lots might be made. This was on the 9th of December. On the IIth they reported, and the sale pro- ceeded on the 12th. .
The proprietors met and organized, being such as did not choose to pay for a choice of lots. Job Case was made, their president, and Timothy Spelman, clerk. The first business was the distribution of their town lots. The town spring lot, on account of the spring, was sold to the highest bidder (Lieutenant Jesse Munson), he giving a lien to the company that the spring should be for public use " as long as water runs." Elias Gilman, afterward coming into possession of the lot, gave a deed, March 21, 1806, recorded in Fairfield County, Lancaster, March 31, 1806, renouncing all title to the spring and as much ground around it as might be needed
61
THE SECOND DIVISION.
for water-works, if the "inhabitants" should thereafter see fit to use the spring for the public good.
The further division proceeded by lot, William Reynolds and Frederick Moore being chosen to draw the tickets. In the division of farm lands the same method was pursued. Each section was drawn by lot separately, the unappropri- ated fractions of the Hardy & Stanberry sections being di- vided among the other sections ; each member to have a portion of his land in each section ; thus, by the chances of several drawings, equalizing the probabilities that each member would receive a fair average quality of land. Then, by exchanging, buying, and selling, each could obtain his land in contiguous tract. If, however, any were dissatisfied with this method, they had the privilege of receiving their land in one tract under the direction of a committee chosen by those interested. January 15, 1806, Deacon Timothy Rose, in a letter, says : "We have come to the division of our land, and that peaceably ; and, as I believe, honestly."
A partition deed drawn up by Samuel Everitt, Jr., was given by the company, in which the purchase of each mem- ber is described. It was signed by each member of the company, some absentees signing by their attorneys. By thus subscribing, each member of the company signed away his claim to every part of the land except that described by the deed as apportioned to himself. Thus was each one's title made good to himself from the company. A copy of this deed occupies twenty-eight pages of very closely written foolscap paper, including a plat of the village, with tables of the proprietors' names, their village and farm lots, the location of the same in sections and ranges, etc. On the 8th day of March, 1806, the deed was acknowledged before Abraham Wright, a Justice of the Peace for Fairfield County, seventy-eight signatures being attached. The recording of this deed cost the company $25.00, and the instrument itself was entrusted to the custody of Timothy Spelman.
62
EARLY EXPERIENCES.
CHAPTER XII.
The winter of 1805-6 was one of new experiences for all the settlement ; it proved to be an open one, so that their sufferings from exposure and cold were not very great. Then, there was abundance of wood at every man's door, and they were glad to put it out of the way in their great, roaring fires, kept burning night and day. Evening gatherings for social chat were frequent. Conversations with friends and interchange of experience in their new circumstances were needed. Be- ing so far removed from all other friendships, they made the more of their social life. While the older ones were thus met for planning and conference, the younger ones would gather for innocent frolic. Father and mother, with thought- ful countenances, would start out to spend the evening with their neighbors. They would scarcely be hidden from sight in the darkness among the thick trees, when a horn would blow, as a concerted signal among the young people that the cat was away and the mice inight play, and troops would start up here and there, all making for the rendezvous. So prompt was the response that sometimes the two parties would meet in the woods, going in opposite directions, and the old folks would wonder who those young people were, and where they were going. The young folks had undis- puted possession of one cabin, and the old folks were undisturbed in their consultations in the other. The young folks knew the old folks were planning for their welfare, and were happy. The old folks had full confidence in their children, that they were in no mischief, wherever they were. The parents would return to their homes when the evening was spent, to find that the children, too, had been enjoying themselves, and all were satisfied.
Owing to the failure of their mill dam, they were obliged to go for flour to Chillicothe, a distance of sixty miles. Four men, Justin Hillyer, Levi Rose, Augustine Munson and
63
WILD TURKEYS.
Thomas Spelman, made this trip during the winter, with ox teams, returning with their loads in twenty-one days. Their route was through the woods to Lancaster, from which place a road had been opened to Chillicothe. It took them four days to travel that first twenty-six miles to Lancaster.
Another commodity, regarded a necessity in those days, was whisky. This, too, was brought from Chillicothe.
But the woods around them abounded in choice game. Wild turkeys were so plentiful as to become a pest to the crops. They " went in flocks to the size of a hundred, and somne of the settlers` say five hundred. When they began to sow, there are instances where the sower set down his wheat to club back the turkeys. In the Autumn, the Burgh Street hills echoed with their noise, and sometimes seemed almost covered with them. The people did not pretend to eat all they killed. The breasts were torn out for 'jerks,' that is, to smoke and dry, and the rest was thrown away. Those who could not bear to see the waste forbade their young peo- ple firing upon thein. So late as 1811, six years after the settlement, Enoclı Graves paid Spencer Wright nine fat turkeys, cauglit in a pen, for three pounds of sole leather."
A turkey that had been shot came flying overhead and fluttered down by the side of Mrs. Winchel, while at work out of doors. It was unable to fly further, and so furnished thein a dinner. When dressed, it weighed twenty-two pounds.
A pedler from Chillicothe stopped at Oren Granger's tavern one Monday noon, where he saw several fine turkeys. He bargained with Leveret Butler for one hundred such, to be delivered at Mr. Granger's the next Saturday noon. Butler went home, run his bullets, went out in the afternoon and in two hours killed twenty-nine. A rain came up and wet the guns, and he was obliged to stop. He hung up the turkeys after the Indian fashion, sticking the head of one through a slit in the neck of another, and balancing them across a limb. Next day it rained. Wednesday he went
64
DEER -WOLVES.
again, with one Nichols, and camped out the rest of the week. They carried in 130. The wild cats spoiled six for themn. Selecting one hundred of the best, he delivered them to Mr. Granger and received his pay.
Mrs. Samuel Everitt caught twenty-three turkeys at one time, trapping them in a corn crib, luring them to the spot by sprinkling a few kernels of corn around.
Deacon David Thomas killed seven with two shots, having a shot gun, and getting the turkeys in a row as they sat on the fence.
Turkeys were very large, and so fat that when shot from a tree, the concussion of the fall would cause the fat on their backs to split open six inches or more.
Old Mr. Hoover had the name of killing the largest in the colony. When dressed, it weighed thirty-eight pounds. Mr. Ethan Bancroft shot several that weighed thirty-six pounds.
"Some accounts border on the marvelous as to the ease with which deer were found & shot at the deer licks; one of which was near the west side of the township."
The exposure to danger from wild beasts was not a slight one ; the wolves being the most formidable eneiny, because of their numbers. Bears and "panthers" there were, and they occasioned trouble, but not with any frequency.
Alfred Avery, then a mere boy of eleven years, was sent one day to the mill at Newark, on horseback, and returning, did not reach home until after night. Some animal rushed past him in the darkness and startled his horse, throwing the boy and the grist to the ground. By the aid of a fallen tree, he was able to readjust his load, and he reached home in safety. It was supposed to be a wolf, which, being full fed, did not molest him further.
A son of Theophilus Rees came one evening into the vil- lage to spend a few hours in singing with the young people. He was urged not to return home through the woods by night, but, more bravely than wisely, he set out, imitating the howling of the wolf as he went. He had scarcely gone half
65
RESCUES FROM WOLVES.
a mile from the village, when a pack of wolves, perhaps answering to his own call, came upon him, and forced him into a small tree. The wolves surrounded it, snapping, howling, jumping at him as he sat on a limb, and even gnawing at the tree, which, before morning light could disperse them, would have yielded to their persistence, and given him up as their prey. But, providentially, his cries were heard at the settlement. The village was aroused, and they set out with torches and lanterns, to his rescue. As the lights ap- proached them, the wolves yielded their ground, and the young man was saved.
During the first winter, Captain John Phelps being vio- lently ill, his younger brother, Chauncey, went to Worthing- ton, twenty-seven miles, for a physician. At night fall, he waded a creek; the wolves came on his track, and forced him into a tree. There he remained until his clothes froze stiff. At length, the wolves seemed to take his track back, and hearing them plunge into the creek, he came down and went on his way.
Two sons and a daughter of David Lewis, in the Rees settlement, were boiling sugar in the woods one night, when a pack of wolves came upon them. They defended themselves, for a time, with the brands from the fire. These were near giv- ing out, to their great peril, before their parents and neighbors rallied to their rescue.
H. Prosper Rose was once riding to town from his home, by the ridge road, which followed the hills north of the present road, when he was chased by a savage wolf that bit his horse, and snapped his boot, and to save himself, he was obliged to run his horse quite into the village.
In early times, a wolf was known to be prowling around the village. He was tracked to his haunt in a swamp on the northeast edge of town, trapped and killed.
When spring opened, another fearful enemy was en- countered in the multitude of snakes that infested hill and valley, the most dreaded of which were copperheads and rat- 9
66
RATTLESNAKES AND COPPERHEADS.
tlesnakes, some of them being " as large as good sized hand- spikes." This must have been after they had swallowed a squirrel. The rattlesnake was not generally more than four feet long, though Mr. David Butler killed one that was six feet long, having sixteen or eighteen rattles. The copper- head was not more than eighteen or twenty inches long, and not very heavy.
Mrs. Gilman was straining her milk one evening at the spring-house, when a copperhead rose and snapped at her. She had learned to make the old-fashioned, long-handled fire-shovel a formidable weapon of warfare against them, and, hastening into the house, she came back armed and dispatched it.
During the summer, she, with others, was invited to eat watermelons at Deacon Hayes'. When getting their things preparatory to returning home, a large snake was found coiled under Mrs. Gilman's bonnet, on the parlor bed, and raising its head threateningly as they approached. The fire- shovel was again brought into service, and the snake was killed.
One neighbor making an early business call upon another saw a large yellow rattlesnake coiled on a log of the cabin just over the bed which was still occupied by a member of the family. The neighbor remarked : " I see you have an early caller this morning." This caused the occupant of the bed to turn and look for the visitor, which brought her head very near to the venomous reptile.
" The first day that Deacon Hayes began to clear his land, he put his hand under a log, hooked the chain, and when the oxen turned it over, it crushed three copperheads."
Thomas Parker was plowing for wheat, when he turned up a stone under which were gathered a half-bushel of snakes of all kinds.
Timothy W. Howe and his brother younger were out berrying. Timothy, following his brother's track, found a large rattlesnake coiled in his path, over which his brother had stepped without seeing it.
67
EXTERMINATION.
Leveret Butler several times had his clothing bitten by them Once a copperhead snapped at him and hooked his fangs in his linen pants, hanging there until he knocked him off with the other foot. At another time the toe of his inoccasin was bitten.
The snakes first began to show themselves in April of the first spring. They wintered in the hills, where the ground had been broken by the falling trees, giving them access to the stones within. In the crevices and cavities were found great dens of them. Rattlesnakes, blacksnakes, copperheads and striped snakes habited together.
It was judged best to make a thorough business of killing them. The people all turned out, formed two companies under Captains Elias Gilman and Justin Hillyer, chose sides for the day, stimulating competition by the agreement that the beaten party should furnish three gallons of whisky for an evening's frolic, and proceeded to business. The young men grew venturesome, and would " seize them by the neck and thrash them against the trees before they had time to bite or coil around their arms."
On another occasion it became known that the snakes were leaving their winter quarters one Sunday while the people were assembled at church. It was deemed a matter of "necessity and mercy" to kill them before they should scatter through the country ; so the congregation adjourned to the scene of the hissing crew and spent the day in deeds of slaughter.
Dr. Little relates in this connection that experiments were repeated on snakes by holding them with a forked stick placed over their necks and inserting a tobacco quid in their mouths, or spitting tobacco juice into their open jaws. Whatever venom they carried of their own, they could not stand this. They would convulse and die. Then he draws a contrast between the venom of the snake and that of the inan, and rather in favor of the former.
Wild hogs were a very formidable enemy to encounter.
68
WILD HOGS- BEARS.
They sometimes wore tusks six or eight inches long. Boys, and even men, were sometimes forced to the trees to escape them. They would soon tear a dog to pieces, and were more dreaded than bears. One old gentleman who, from bronchial disease, could not speak above a whisper, was once forced by one of them to shout as loud as anybody. Another, chased by an old one with a family of pigs, unfortunately took refuge in a tree immediately under which was her haunt, and had well-nigh failed to make his call for help heard in time for a rescue.
Bears were not numerous after the colony came. About 1820, one was chased and treed on the hill north of town. The citizens turned out and captured it, and divided the spoils. Another was killed at the Great Circular Hunt in 1823 (which,see), and the last seen was in 1826 (see also, in Annals of that date).
About the same time, also, (1820-26), the deer vanished from the vicinity.
The Sabbath-keeping habits of the colony soon made an impression upon the settlers around them. At first they came in on errands of business or pleasure on that day, but they soon learned to respect the wishes of the colonists con- cerning the day, and either came to join with them in their public worship, or staid away.
One man came on the Sabbath for the purpose of buying a yoke of oxen. He had been directed to Mr. Lemuel Rose as having a yoke to sell. Approaching him, he made known his business.
"It is not my practice to trade on the Sabbath," said Mr. Rose.
"I had leisure to-day to ride over and get a yoke," said the man, rather apologetically in regard to the day.
" I can not trade on Sunday," was the reply.
"Well, but you can tell me what you will ask ?" queried the stranger.
"No !" said Mr. Rose, "I can make no part of the trade to-day."
69
BILL OF FARE.
"At least you can tell me whether you have a yoke to sell ?" persisted the would-be buyer.
Still receiving no satisfaction beyond the information that business was not appropriate for the Sabbath, he rode away. At this point tradition divides as to the finishing of the story. One says the man never came again ; the other, that he came next day and Mr. Rose told him he had no oxen to sell.
As soon as might be after the division of their lands, each settler began the work of clearing. The families would rise in the morning at break of day. The men would freshen up the fires in the cabins, care for the cattle, and at once go to the log-heaps in the fields. These would be set into a fresh blaze as rapidly as possible by rolling the burning logs together and throwing the brands between. The women would prepare breakfast. Usually, a fresh "johnny-cake" was made. The corn meal was stirred up with water and a little white ashes of elm wood or corn cobs, instead of soda, or a pseudo pearlaslı made by firing a hollow elm log, the heat becoming so great as to melt down the ashes in cakes. The johnny-cake was then spread thin upon a short, shaved puncheon. This was set on end before the fire until one side was baked brown, then turned and baked on the other. Sometimes the rain would spoil one cake, but another would be started at once. When done, it was dipped into cold water and immediately rolled up in a cloth to steam awhile, and when it came out " it was the sweetest bread ever made." Potatoes were roasted in the ashes. The breast of turkeys was cut into slices and broiled on the end of a stick, or lying . on glowing coals. When there was no fresh meat at hand, there was plenty of jerked venison or turkey. The table was sometimes spread with wooden or pewter plates and trenchers. Some ate their mush and milk from wooden bowls with wooden spoons. The milk was set away in large wooden pans. All this wooden-ware, with salt mortars, etc., came to be made at an early day within the settlement.
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ROUTINE OF A DAY.
Breakfast over, the mnen would betake themselves to the work of the day, according to the season : chopping, plow- ing, hoeing, harvesting, etc .; always keeping the log-heaps briskly burning. The women would spin wool or flax, or weave their yarn into cloth ; or make the cloth into cloth- ing. Girls sixteen years of age would spin two and a half runs of yarn, linen or woolen, for a day's work, besides help- ing about table work three times a day. It was considered quite an accomplishment to spin tow so fine that a skein of it could be drawn through a finger ring. Often, the women or boys would go to mill, three, six, or ten miles, with a bushel or two of grain, on horseback, rather than take the men from their labor. Mr. Moutonye, an ingenious black- smith, very useful to the settlers all around by mending broken tools in an artistic way, owned a inill seat on Ramp Creek, and constructed a little mill with stones of his own shaping, where a little grinding was done ; but the main de- pendence was a mill at Newark.
For the nconday meal, breakfast was repeated, and all re- turned to the same employments for the afternoon.
In the evening, with torches in hand to keep the wolves away, they would often gather at a neighbor's and eat a sup- per of roast turkey. Returning home after a social evening, they would give the final touches to the log-heaps, and retire to rest.
When baking was on hand, they generally used a " Dutch oven" -a great iron, flat-bottomed kettle, with an iron lid, to be set over a bed of coals and be covered with a layer of glowing embers. One of these would sometimes serve a whole neighborhood, going in turn from one family to another. Some made clay ovens, large enough to bake at once eight or ten loaves of bread. They sometimes made great loaves of corn bread that would weigh fifteen pounds.
Turkeys, deer, wild hogs, and opossums furnished a variety of meat and an abundance of it. In the fall, when corn was getting too old for roasting-ears, they would joint it on a bench
71
EVENING ENTERTAINMENTS.
plane, or an instrument made on purpose for the work, and make hominy of it. Another process was to pound it in a mortar. A hollow, large enough to hold a gallon or two, would be burned out of the top of some convenient stump ; a sapling bent over and a large pestle fixed to it so as to play over the stump ; then, with a rope and stirrup for the foot to work with, the pestle was made to beat the corn in the hollow until fine enough to cook.
For brooms, they would cut a hickory or buckeye stick and peel fine splints down toward the end, turning them over the end and tying them in a mat, then shave the other end to a convenient size for a handle.
Blackberries and milk were a luxury.
Bread crusts, rye, and even sycamore [hickory ? ] bark were used for coffee. Wild grapes and cherries were dried and served for raisins in fruit-cake, and bread and pumpkins were used for pies. Hot doughnuts, cheese, homemade beer, nuts, popcorn, maple sugar, and even fresh turnips, were passed to company of an evening instead of apples.
Singing was ever a part of their social entertainments.
Corn huskings made many happy occasions for evening mirth.
Families went pleasuring on a sled drawn by oxen, and children of emigrants were seen coming into the country, one on each side of a horse, slung in a bed-tick across his back, their curious countenances peering out of the opening, taking note of things as they passed, and the people as cur- iously taking note of the travelers.
In those days there were no common people. All be- longed to the aristocracy.
During the earliest years of the colony there were friendly Indians roaming around them who were of great assistance to them. They would bring in cranberries for sale. The stock would occasionally wander away, and the Indians could always find them and bring them in. Some of the young settlers became very intimate with them, and would go a
72
FRIENDLY INDIANS.
great distance from home in their company, learning their haunts and habits of hunting. The Indian boys were very expert with the bow and arrows, shooting coppers at a dis- tance of twenty-five feet. With a quiver full of arrows one would stand and shoot them all, one after another, at objects in the trees or air, noting carefully where each fell; then taking a round, would gather them each in its turn, never missing one. The Indians would bring in venison to ex- change for any little commodity the settlers could spare, a little parched corn, a mug of cider, a squash, or a trinket.
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