WYANDOT COUNTY
Page 885
Wyandot County was
formed from Crawford,
Marion, Hardin and Hancock, Feb. 3, 1845.
The surface is level and soil fertile.
About one-third of it is prairie land, being covered by
the Sandusky
plains. These
plains are chiefly bounded
by the Sandusky, the Little Scioto and the Tyemochte,
which last signifies, in the Wyandot language, “around the
plains.” This
tract in its natural state is covered
with a rank, wild grass several feet in height, and in some parts are
interspersed beautiful groves of timber.
Area, about 400
square
miles.
In 1887 the acres cultivated were 127,700; in
pasture, 56,450; woodland, 36,700; lying waste, 1,336; produced in
wheat,
453,013 bushel; rye, 5,694; buckwheat, 434; oats, 406,780; barley,
10,747;
corn, 1.103,949; meadow hay, 19,776 tons; clover, 4,613 tons; flaxseed,
862
bushels, potatoes, 63,204; tobacco, 200 lbs.; butter, 388,374; cheese,
24,300;
sorghum, 1,682; maple syrup, 4,730 gallons; honey, 3,014 lbs.; eggs,
488,210
dozen; grapes, 1,040 lbs.; sweet potatoes, 84 bushels; apples, 10,384;
peaches,
1,011; pears, 828; wool, 409,387 lbs.; milch cows owned, 5,160. School
census, 1888, 6,974;
teachers, 237. Miles
of railroad
track, 89.
Township And Table |
|
1880 |
|
Township And Table |
|
1880 |
Antrim, |
|
1,928 |
|
Pitt, |
|
1,268 |
Crane, |
|
5,027 |
|
Richland, |
|
1,676 |
Crawford, |
|
2,213 |
|
Ridge, |
|
639 |
Eden, |
|
1,793 |
|
Salem, |
|
1,547 |
Jackson, |
|
1,331 |
|
Sycamore, |
|
1,058 |
Marseilles, |
|
840 |
|
Tyemochte, |
|
1,620 |
Mifflin, |
|
1,455 |
|
|
|
|
Population of
Wyandot in 1860 was 15,956;
1880, 22,395; of whom 17,650 were born in Ohio; 1,475, Pennsylvania;
507, New
York; 208, Virginia; 173, Indiana; 28, Kentucky; 1,037, German Empire;
214,
Ireland; 116, England and Wales; 43, France; 35, British America; 11,
Scotland;
and 6, Sweden and Norway. Census, 1890, 21,722.
This county was,
from an early day, a
favorite residence of the Wyandot Indians.
It is noted for being the scene of CRAWFORD’S
defeat in June, 1782, and
his subsequent death by the most cruel
tortures.
The view
representing CRAWFORD’S
Battle-Ground was taken on the road to Tiffin, three miles north of
Upper
Sandusky, and one west of the Sandusky river.
The action, it is said, began some distance north of the
cabin shown, in
the high grass of the prairie in which the Indians were concealed. The parties afterwards
were engaged in the
grove or island of timber represented in the view, called at this day
“Battle Island,”
in which the principal
action was fought. Many
of the trees now
[1846] bear the marks of the bullets, or rather the scars on their
trunks made
by the hatchets of the Indians in getting them out after the action. The large oak on the right
of the view has
these relics of that unfortunate engagement.
A part of the whites slain were buried in a small swamp
about thirty
rods south of the spot from whence the drawing was taken. It is not shown in the
view, as the scene is
represented to the eye as if looking in a northern direction.
The annexed history
of Crawford’s
Campaign we take from
DODDRIDGE’s “Notes:”
CRAWFORD’s campaign, in one point of view at least, is to be considered as a second Moravian campaign, as one of its objects was that of finishing the work of murder and plunder
PAGE 886
with the Christian Indians at their new establishment on the Sandusky. The next object was that of destroying the Wyandot towns on the same river. It was the resolution of all those concerned in this expedition not to spare the life of any Indians that might fall into their hands, whether friends or foes. It will be seen in the sequel that the result of this campaign was widely different from that of the Moravian campaign the preceding March.
It
should seem that the
long continuance of the Indian war had debased a considerable portion
of our
population to the savage state of our nature.
Having lost so many relatives by the Indians, and
witnessed their horrid
murders and other depredations on so extensive a scale, they became
subjects of
that indiscriminating thirst for revenge which is such a prominent
feature in
the savage character, and, having had a taste of blood and plunder
without risk
or loss on their part, they resolved to go on and kill every Indian
they could
find, whether friend or foe.
Preparations
for this
campaign commenced soon after the return of the Moravian campaign in
the month
of March, and as it was intended to make what was called at that time
“a dash,”
that is, an enterprise conducted with secrecy and despatch, the men
were all mounted on
the best horses they could
procure. They
furnished themselves with
all their outfits except some ammunition, which was furnished by the
lieutenant-colonel of Washington county
[Pennsylvania].
The
Rendezvous and March.—On the 25th
of May, 1782, 480 men mustered at the old Mingo town, just below the
site of
Steubenville, on the western side of the Ohio river.
They were all volunteers from the immediate
neighborhood of the Ohio, with the exception of one company from Ten
Mile in
Washington county.
Here an election was held for the office of
commander-in-chief for the
expedition. The
candidates were Col.
WILLIAMSON and Col. CRAWFORD; the latter was the successful candidate. When notified of his
appointment it is said
that he accepted it with apparent reluctance.
The
army marched along
“WILLIAMSON’S trail,” as it was then
called, until they arrived at the upper
Moravian town, in the fields belonging to which there was still plenty
of corn
on the stalks, with which their horses were plentifully fed during the
night of
their encampment there.
Shortly
after the army
halted at this place two Indians were discovered by three men, who had
walked
some distance out of the camp. Three
shots were fired at one of them, but without hurting him. As soon as the news of the
discovery of
Indians had reached the camp more than one-half of the men rushed out,
without
command, and in the most tumultuous manner, to see what happened. From that time Col.
CRAWFORD felt a
presentiment of the defeat which followed.
The
truth is that,
notwithstanding the secrecy and despatch of the enterprise, the Indians
were
beforehand with our people. They
saw the
rendezvous on the Mingo bottom, knew their number and destination. They visited every
encampment immediately on
their leaving, and saw from the writing on the trees and scraps of
paper that
“no quarter was to be given to any Indian, whether man, woman
or child.”
Nothing
material
happened during their march until the sixth of June, when their guides
conducted them to the site of the Moravian villages on one of the upper
branches of the Sandusky river;
but here, instead of
meeting with Indians and plunder, they met with nothing but vestiges of
desolation. The
place was covered with
high grass, and the remains of a few huts alone announced that the
place had
been the residence of the people whom they intended to destroy, but who
had
moved off to Scioto some time beforehand.
In
this dilemma what was
to be done? The
officers held a council,
in which it was determined to march one day longer in the direction of
Upper
Sandusky, and if they should not reach the town in the course of the
day to
make a retreat with all speed.
The
Battle.—The
march was commenced the next morning
through the plains of Sandusky, and continued until about two
o’clock, when the
advance guard was attacked and driven in by the Indians, who were
discovered in
large numbers in the high grass, with which the place was covered. The Indian army was at
that moment about
entering a piece of woods, almost entirely surrounded by plains; but in
this
they were disappointed by a rapid movement of our men.
The battle then commenced
by a heavy fire from both sides.
From a partial possession of the woods which they had
gained at the
onset of the battle, the Indians were soon dislodged.
They then attempted to gain a small skirt of
wood on our right flank, but were prevented from doing so by the
vigilance and
bravery of Maj. LEET, who commanded the right wing of the army at that
time. The firing
was incessant and heavy until
dark, when it ceased. Both
armies lay on
their arms during the night. Both
adopted the policy of kindling large fires along the line of battle,
and then
retiring some distance in the rear of them to prevent being surprised
by a
night attack. During
the conflict of the
afternoon three of our men were killed and several wounded.
In
the morning our army
occupied the battle ground of the preceding day.
The Indians made no attack during the day,
until late in the evening, but were seen in large bodies traversing the
plains
in various directions. Some
of them
appeared to be employed in carrying off their dead and wounded.
In
the morning of this day a council of the officers was held, in which a
retreat
was resolved on, as the only means of saving their army. The Indians appeared to
increase in number
every hour. During
the sitting of this
council, Colonel WILLIAMSON proposed taking one hundred and fifty
volunteers,
and
PAGE 887
marching
directly to Upper
Sandusky. This
proposition the
commander-in-chief prudently rejected, saying, “I have no
doubt but that you
would reach the town, but you would find nothing there but empty
wigwams, and
having taken off so many of our best men, you would leave the rest to
be
destroyed by the host of Indians with which we are now surrounded, and
on your
return they would attack and destroy you.
They care nothing about defending their towns; they are
worth
nothing. Their
squaws, children and
property have been removed from them long since.
Our lives and baggage are what they want, and
if they can get us divided they will soon have them.
We must stay together and do the best we
can.”
The
Indians Renew the Battle.—During
this day preparations were made for a retreat by burying the dead,
burning
fires over their graves to prevent discovery, and preparing means for
carrying
off the wounded. The
retreat was to
commence in the course of the night.
The
Indians, however, became apprized of the intended retreat, and about
sundown
attacked the army with great force and fury, in every direction,
excepting that
of Sandusky.
When
the line of march was
formed by the commander-in-chief, and the retreat
commenced, our guides prudently took the direction of Sandusky, which
afforded
the only opening in the Indian lines and the only chance of concealment. After marching about a
mile in this
direction, the army wheeled about to the left, and by a circuitous
route gained
the trail by which they came, before day.
They continued their march the whole of the next day, with
a trifling
annoyance from the Indians, who fired a few distant shots at the rear
guard,
which slightly wounded two or three men.
At night they built fires, took their suppers, secured the
horses and
resigned themselves to repose, without placing a single sentinel or
vedette for
safety. In this
careless situation, they
might have been surprised and cut off by the Indians, who, however,
gave them
no disturbance during the night, nor
afterwards during
the whole of their retreat. The
number
of those composing the main body in the retreat was supposed to be
about three
hundred.
The
Retreat.—Most unfortunately,
when a retreat was resolved on, a difference of opinion prevailed
concerning
the best mode of effecting it. The
greater number thought best to keep in a body and retreat as fast as
possible,
while a considerable number thought it safest to break off in small
parties and
make their way home in different directions, avoiding the route by
which they
came. Accordingly
many attempted to do so,
calculating that the whole body of the Indians would follow the main
army; in
this they were entirely mistaken.
The
Indians paid but little attention to the main body of the army, but
pursued the
small parties with such activity that but very few of those who
composed them
made their escape.
The
only successful
party which was detached from the main army was that of about forty men
under
the command of a Captain WILLIAMSON, who, pretty late in the night of
the
retreat, broke through the Indian lines under a severe fire, and with
some
loss, and overtook the main army on the morning of the second day of
the
retreat.
For
several days after
the retreat of our army, the Indians were spread over the whole
country, from
Sandusky to the Muskingum, in pursuit of the straggling parties, most
of whom were killed on
the spot. They even
pursued them almost to the banks of
the Ohio. A man of
the name of MILLS was
killed, two miles to the eastward of the site of St. Clairsville, in
the
direction of Wheeling from that place.
The number killed in this way must have been very great;
the precise
amount, however, was never fairly ascertained.
Colonel
CRAWFORD Captured.—At
the commencement of the retreat
Colonel CRAWFORD placed himself at the head of the army and continued
there
until they had gone about a quarter of a mile, when missing his son,
John
CRAWFORD, his son-in-law, Major HARRISON, and his nephews, Major ROSE
and
William CRAWFORD, he halted and called for them as the line passed, but
without
finding them. After
the army had passed
him, he was unable to overtake it, owing to the weariness of his horse. Falling in company with
Doctor KNIGHT and two
others, they travelled all the night, first north and then to the east,
to
avoid the pursuit of the Indians.
They
directed their courses during the night by the north
star.
On
the next day they
fell in with Captain John BIGGS and Lieutenant ASHLEY, the latter of
whom was
severely wounded. There
were two others
in company with BIGGS and ASHLEY.
They
encamped together the succeeding night.
On the next day, while on their march, they were attacked
by a party of
Indians, who made Colonel CRAWFORD and Doctor KNIGHT prisoners.
The other four made their escape, but Captain
BIGGS and Lieutenant ASHLEY were killed the next day.
Colonel
CRAWFORD and
Doctor KNIGHT were immediately taken to an Indian encampment at a short
distance from the place where they were captured.
Here they found nine fellow prisoners and
seventeen Indians. On
the next day they
were marched to the old Wyandot town, and on the next morning were
paraded, to
set off, as they were told, to go to the new town.
But alas! a
very
different destination awaited these captives! Nine of the prisoners
were
marched off some distance before the colonel and the doctor, who were
conducted
by PIPE and WINGENUND, two Delaware chiefs.
Four of the prisoners were tomahawked and scalped on the
way, at
different places.
Preparations
had been made for the execution of Colonel CRAWFORD, by setting a post
about
fifteen feet high in the ground, and making a large fire of hickory
poles about
six yards from it. About
half a mile
from the
PAGE 888
place of
execution the
remaining five of the nine prisoners were tomahawked and scalped by a
number of
squaws and boys. Colonel
CRAWFORD’S son
and son-in-law were executed at the Shawnese town. . . .
Dr.
KNIGHT was doomed to
be burned at a town about forty miles distant from Sandusky, and
committed to
the care of a young Indian to be taken there, but escaped. See Vol. II., page
Thus
ended this disastrous campaign. It was
the last one which took place in this section of the country during the
revolutionary contest of the Americans with the mother country. It was undertaken with the
very worst of
views, those of plunder and murder; it was conducted without sufficient
means
to encounter, with any prospect of success, the large force of Indians
opposed
to ours in the plains of Sandusky.
It
was conducted without that subordination and discipline so requisite to
insure
success in any hazardous enterprise, and it ended in a total
discomfiture. Never
did an enterprise more completely fail
of attaining its object. Never,
on any
occasion, had the ferocious savages more ample revenge for the murder
of their
pacific friends, than that which they obtained on this occasion.
Should
it be asked what
considerations led so great a number of people into this desperate
enterprise? Why
with so small a force
and such slender means they pushed on so far as the plains of Sandusky?
The
answer is, that many
believed that the Moravian Indians, taking no
part in the war, and having given offence to the warriors on several
occasions,
their belligerent friends would not take up arms in their behalf. In this conjecture they
were sadly mistaken. They
did defend them with all the force at their
command, and no wonder, for notwithstanding their Christian and pacific
principles, the warriors still regarded the Moravians as their friends,
whom it
was their duty to defend.
We have omitted to
copy from the
preceding the account of the burning of Colonel CRAWFORD, for the
purpose of
giving the details more fully. “The
spot
where CRAWFORD suffered,” says Col. John JOHNSTONE,
“was but a few miles west
of Upper Sandusky, on the old trace leading to the Big Spring, Wyandot
town. It was on the
right hand of the
trace going west, on a low bottom on the east back of the Tyemochte
creek. The
Delawares burnt CRAWFORD in satisfaction
for the massacre of their people at the Moravian towns on the
Muskingum.” It
was at a Delaware town which extended
along the Tyemochte. The
precise spot is
now [1846] owned by the heirs of Daniel HODGE, and is a beautiful
green, with
some fine oak trees in its vicinity.
The following is
from HECKEWELDER, and
describes an interview which CRAWFORD had with the Indian chief,
WINGENUND,
just previous to his death. Some
doubts
have been expressed of its truth as the historian HECKEWELDER has often
been
accused of being fond of romancing,
but Colonel JOHNSTONE (good authority here) expresses the opinion that
“it is
doubtless in the main correct”—that it gives the
spirit of what was said.
WINGENUND, and Indian Chief, had an interview with Colonel CRAWFORD just before his execution. He had been known to CRAWFORD some time before, and had been on terms of friendship with him, and kindly entertained by him at his own house, and therefore felt much attached to the colonel. WINGENUND had retired to his cabin that he might not see the sentence executed; but CRAWFORD sent for him, with the faint hope that he would intercede for and save him. WINGENUND accordingly soon appeared in presence of CRAWFORD, who was naked and bound to a stake. WINGENUND commenced the conversation with much embarrassment and agitation, as follows:
WINGENUND—“Are
you not Colonel
CRAWFORD?”
CRAWFORD—“I am.”
Wingenund, somewhat agitated, ejaculated, “So!—yes!—indeed!”
CRAWFORD—“Do
you
not recollect the
friendship that always existed between us, and that we were always glad
to see
each other?”
WINGENUND—“Yes!
I
remember all this, and that we have often drank
together, and that you have been kind to me.”
CRAWFORD—“Then I
hope the same friendship still continues.”
WINGENUND—“It
would, of course,
were you where you ought to be, and not here.”
CRAWFORD—And why
not here? I hope
you would not desert a friend in time
of need. Now is the
time for you to
exert yourself in my behalf, as I should do for you were you in my
place.”
WINGENUND—“Colonel CRAWFORD! You
have placed yourself in a
situation which puts it out of my power, and that of others of your
fiends, to
do anything for you.”
CRAWFORD—“How so, Captain WINGENUND?”
WINGENUND—“By joining yourself to that execrable man,
WILLIAMSON, and his party—the man who, but
the
other day, murdered
PAGE 889
such a
number of Moravian
Indians, knowing them to be friends; knowing that he ran no risk in
murdering a
people who would not fight, and whose only business was
praying.”
CRAWFORD—“But
I assure you, WINGENUND, that had I been with him at
the time this would not have happened.
Not I alone, but all your friends, and all good men,
whoever they are,
reprobate acts of this kind.”
WINGENUND—“That
my be; yet these
friends, these good men, did not prevent him from going out again to
kill the
remainder of these inoffensive, yet foolish Moravian Indians. I say foolish, because
they believed the
whites in preference to us. We
had often
told them they would be one day so treated by those people who called
themselves their friends! We
told them
there was no faith to be placed in what the white man said; that their
fair
promises were only intended to allure us that they might the more
easily kill
us, as they had done many Indians before these Moravians.”
CRAWFORD—“I
am sorry to hear you speak thus; as to WILLIAMSON’s
going out again, when it was known he was determined on it, I went out
with him
to prevent his committing fresh murders.”
WINGENUND—“This
the Indians would not believe, were even I to tell them so.”
CRAWFORD—“Why would they not believe?”
WINGENUND—“Because
it would have been out of your power to have prevented his doing what
he
pleased.”
CRAWFORD—“Out
of my power! Have any Moravian Indians
been killed or hurt
since we came out?”
WINGENUND—“None;
but you first went to their town, and finding it
deserted, you turned on the path towards us.
If you had been is search of warriors only, you would not
have gone
thither. Our spies
watched you
closely. They saw
you while you were
embodying yourselves on the other side of the Ohio.
They saw you cross the river—they saw where
you encamped for the night—they saw you turn off from the
path to the deserted
Moravian town—they knew you were going out of your
way—your steps were constantly
watched, and you were suffered quietly to proceed until you reached the
spot
where you were attacked.”
CRAWFORD felt that with
this sentence ended his last ray of hope, and now asked, with emotion,
“What do
they intend to do with me?”
WINGEMUND—“I
tell you with grief. As
WILLIAMSON, with his whole cowardly host,
ran off in the night at the whistling of our warriors’ balls,
being satisfied
that now he had no Moravians to deal with, but men who could fight, and
with
such he did not wish to have anything to do—I say, as they
have escaped and
taken you, they will take revenge on you in his stead.”
CRAWFORD—“And
is there no possibility of preventing this?
Can you devise no way of getting me off?
You shall, my friend, be well rewarded if you
are instrumental in saving my life.”
WINGENUND—“Had
WILLIAMSON been taken with you, I and some friends,
by making use of what you have told me, might perhaps have succeeded in
saving
you; but as the matter now stands, no man would dare to interfere in
your
behalf. The king of
England himself,
were he to come on to this spot, with all his wealth and treasure,
could not effect this
purpose.
The blood of the innocent Moravians, more than half of
them women and
children, cruelly and wantonly murdered, calls loudly for revenge. The relatives of the slain
who are among us
cry out and stand ready for revenge.
The
nation to which they belonged will have revenge.
The Shawanese, our grandchildren, have asked
for your fellow-prisoner; on him they will take revenge. All the nations connected
with us cry out,
Revenge! revenge!
The Moravians whom you
went to destroy, having fled,
instead of avenging their brethren, the offence is become national, and
the
nation itself is bound to take revenge!”
CRAWFORD—“My
fate is then fixed,
and I must prepare to meet death in its worst form.”
WINGENUND—“I
am sorry for it, but cannot do anything for you.
Had you attended to the Indian principle,
that as good and evil cannot dwell together in the same
heart, so a good man ought not to go into evil company,
you would not be
in this lamentable situation. You
see
now, when it is too late, after WILLIAMSON has deserted you, what a bad
man he
must be. Nothing
now remains for you but
to meet your fate like a brave man.
Farewell, Colonel CRAWFORD!—they are coming. I will retire to a
solitary spot.”
The savages then fell upon CRAWFORD.
WINGENUND, it is said, retired, shedding tears, and ever
after, when the
circumstance was alluded to, was sensibly affected.
The
account of the Burning
of Colonel Crawford
is related in the works of Dr. KNIGHT, his companion, and
an eye-witness
of this tragic scene:
When
we went to the fire the colonel was
stripped naked, ordered to sit down by the fire, and then they beat him
with
sticks and their fists. Presently after I was treated in the same
manner. They
then tied a rope to the foot of a post
about fifteen feet high, bound the colonel’s hands behind his
back and fastened
the rope to the ligature between his wrists.
The rope was long enough for him to sit down or walk round
the post once
or twice, and return the same way.
The
colonel then called to GIRTY, and asked if they intended to burn him? GIRTY answered,
“Yes.” The
colonel said he would take it all
patiently. Upon
this Captain PIPE, a
Delaware chief, made a speech to the Indians, viz., about thirty or
forty men,
sixty or seventy squaws and boys.
PAGE 890
When the speech was finished, they
all yelled a hideous and hearty
assent to what had been said. The
Indian
men then took up their guns and shot powder into the
colonel’s body, from his
feet as far up as his neck. I
think that
not less then seventy loads were discharged upon his naked body. They then crowded about
him, and to the best
of my observation cut off his ears; when the throng had dispersed a
little, I
saw the blood running from both sides of his head in consequence
thereof.
The fire was about six or seven
yards from the post to which the
colonel was tied; it was made of small hickory poles, burnt quite
through in
the middle, each end of the poles remaining about six feet in length. Three or four Indians by
turns would take up,
individually, one of these burning pieces of wood, and apply it to his
naked
body, already burnt black with the powder.
These tormentors presented themselves on every side of him
with the
burning fagots and poles. Some
of the
squaws took broad boards, upon which they would carry a quantity of
burning
coals and hot embers, and throw on him, so that in a short time he had
nothing but
coals of fire and hot ashes to walk upon.
In the midst of these extreme
tortures he called to Simon GIRTY and
begged of him to shoot him; but GIRTY making no answer, he called to
him
again. GIRTY then,
by way of derision,
told the colonel he had no gun, at the same time turning about to an
Indian who
was behind him, laughed heartily, and by all his gestures seemed
delighted at
the horrid scene.
GIRTY then came up and bade me
prepare for death. He
said, however, I was not to die at that
place, but to be burnt at the Shawanese towns.
He swore by G—d I need not expect to escape
death, but should suffer it
in all its extremities.
Colonel CRAWFORD, at this point of
his sufferings, besought the
Almighty to have mercy on his soul, spoke very low, and bore his
torments with
the most manly fortitude. He continued in all the
extremities of pain
for an hour and three-quarters or two hours longer, as near as I can
judge,
when at last, being almost exhausted, he lay down on his belly, they
then
scalped him, and repeatedly threw the scalp in my face, telling me,
that “that
was my great captain.” An
old squaw
(whose appearance every way answered the ideas people entertain of the
devil)
got a board, took a parcel of coals and ashes and laid them on his back
and
head, after he had been scalped; he then raised himself upon his feet
and began
to walk round the post; they next put a burning stick to him, as usual,
but he
seemed more insensible to pain than before.
The Indian fellow who had me in
charge now took me away to Capt.
PIPE’s house, about three-quarters of a mile from the place
of the colonel’s
execution. I was
bound all night, and
thus prevented from seeing the last of the horrid spectacle. Next morning, being June
12, the Indian
untied me, painted me black, and we set off for the Shawanese town,
which he
told me was somewhat less than forty miles distant from that place. We soon came to the spot
where the colonel
had been burnt, as it was partly in our way:
I saw his bones lying among the remains of the fire,
almost burnt to
ashes; I suppose, after he was dead, they laid his body on the fire. The Indian told me that
was my big captain,
and gave the scalp halloo.
The following
extract from an article in the American
Pioneer, by Joseph M’CUTCHEN, Esq., contains some
items respecting the death
of CRAWFORD, and GIRTY’s interference in his behalf, never
before
published. He
derived them from the
Wyandot Indians, who resided in the county, some of whom were quite
intelligent:
As
I have it, the story
respecting the battle is, that if CRAWFORD had rushed on when he first
came
among the Indians, they would have given way and made but little or no
fight;
but they had a talk with him three days previous to the fight, and
asked him to
give them three days to collect in their chiefs and head men of the
different
tribes, and they would then make a treaty of peace with him. The three days were
therefore given; and
during that time all their forces were gathered together that could be
raised
as fighting men, and the next morning CRAWFORD was attacked, some two
or three
miles north of the island where the main battle was fought. The Indians then gave back
in a south
direction, until they got into an island of timber which suited their
purpose,
which was in a large plain, now well known as Sandusky plains. There the battle continued
until night. The
Indians then ceased firing; and, it is
said, immediately afterwards a man came near to the army with a white
flag. Col. CRAWFORD
sent an officer to him. The
man said he wanted to talk with Col.
CRAWFORD, and that he did not want CRAWFORD to come nearer to him than
twenty
steps, as he (GIRTY) wanted to converse with CRAWFORD, and might be of
vast
benefit to him. CRAWFORD
accordingly
went out as requested.
GIRTY then said, “Col.
CRAWFORD, do you know
me?” The
answer was, “I seem to have
some recollection of your voice, but your Indian dress deprives me of
knowing
you as my acquaintance.”
The answer was
then, “My name is Simon GIRTY;” and after some more
conversation between them,
they knew each other well. GIRTY
said,
“CRAWFORD, my object in calling you here is to say to you
that the Indians have
ceased firing until
PAGE 891
Drawn by
Henry Howe in
1846.
CRAWFORD’S
MONUMENT
Crawford's Battle-Ground
PAGE 892
to-morrow
morning, when they
intend to commence the fight; and as they are three times as strong as
you are,
they will be able to cut you all off.
To-night the Indians will surround your army, and when
that arrangement
is fully made, you will hear some guns fire all around the ring. But there is a large swamp
or very wet piece
of ground on the east side of you, where there will be a vacancy; that
gap you
can learn by the firing, and in the night you had better march your men
through
and make your escape in an east direction.”
CRAWFORD accordingly in the night
drew up his men and told them his
intention. The men
generally assenting,
he then commenced his march east; but the men soon got into confusion
and lost
their course. Consequently,
the next day
they were almost to a man cut off, and, as history tells
us, CRAWFORD taken prisoner. He
was
taken by a Delaware; consequently the Delawares claimed the right,
agreeably to
their rules, of disposing of the prisoner.
There was a council held, and the decision was to burn him. He was taken to the main
Delaware town, on a
considerable creek, called Tymochtee, about eight miles from the mouth. GIRTY then supposed he
could make a
speculation by saving CRAWFORD’s life.
He made a proposition to Capt. PIPE, the head chief of the
Delawares,
offering three hundred and fifty dollars for CRAWFORD.
The chief received it as a great insult, and
promptly said to GIRTY, “Sir, do you think I am a squaw?
If you say one word
more on the subject, I will make a stake for you, and burn you along
with the
white chief.”
GIRTY, knowing the Indian character,
retired and said no more on the
subject. But, in
the meantime, GIRTY had
sent runners to the Mohican creek and to Lower Sandusky, where there
were some white
traders, to come immediately and purchase CRAWFORD—knowing
that he could make a
great speculation in case he could save CRAWFORD’s life. The traders came on, but
too late. When they
arrived, CRAWFORD was tied to a
stake, blacked, his ears cut off and part burnt—too much so
to live had he been
let loose. He asked
GIRTY to get a gun
and shoot him, but GIRTY, knowing the rebuke he got the day before,
dared not
say one word.
Notwithstanding
the above, the cruelty of GIRTY to CRAWFORD at the stake is established
by
other sources than that of Dr. KNIGHT.
Col. JOHNSTON informs us that he has been told by Indians
present on the
occasion that GIRTY was among the foremost in inflicting tortures upon
their
victim. This,
however, does not
materially conflict with the above when we regard the motives of GIRTY
in his
behalf as having been mercenary.
The
CRAWFORD monument stands on the bank of the Big Tymochtee, about 300
feet from
the spot where he was burnt.
By
the treaty concluded at the foot of the Maumee rapids, September 29,
1817, Hon.
Lewis CASS and Hon. Duncan M’ARTHUR, commissioners on the
part of the United
States, there was granted to the Wyandot tribe a reservation of twelve
miles
square in this county, the center of which was Fort Ferree, at Upper
Sandusky,
and also a tract of one mile square on the Cranberry Swamp, on Broken
Sword
creek. At the same
time was granted to
the Delawares a tract of three miles square, adjoining the other, on
the south. Their
principal chief was Capt. PIPE, son of
the chief so officious in the burning of CRAWFORD.
The
Delawares ceded their reservation to the United States in 1829. The Wyandots ceded theirs
by a treaty made at
Upper Sandusky, March 17, 1842, they being the only Indians remaining
in the
State. The
commissioner on the part of
the United States was Col. John JOHNSTON, who had then the honor of
making the
last Indian treaty in Ohio—a State, every
foot of whose soil has been fairly purchased by treaties from
its original
possessors. The
Wyandots left for the
far west in July, 1843, and numbered at that time about 700 souls.
The
Wyandots were the bravest of the Indian tribes, and had among their
chiefs some
men of high moral character. Gen.
W. H.
HARRISON, in a discourse in the “Collections of the
Historical Society of
Ohio,” states this of the Wyandots:
With
all other tribes but the Wyandots, flight
in battle, when meeting with unexpected resistance or obstacle, brought
with it
no disgrace . . . With them, it was otherwise.
Their youth were taught to consider anything that had the
appearance of
an acknowledgment of the superiority of the enemy as disgraceful. In the battle of the Miami
rapids, of
thirteen chiefs of that tribe who were present, one only survived, and
he badly
wounded. Some time
before this action,
Gen. WAYNE sent for Capt. WELLS, and re-
PAGE 893
quested
him to go to Sandusky
and take a prisoner, for the purpose of obtaining information. WELLS—who had
been bred with the Indians, and
was perfectly acquainted with their character—answered that
he could take a
prisoner, but not from Sandusky, because Wyandots would not be taken
alive.
We annex a brief
sketch of the Wyandot, or Huron
tribe, as they were anciently called, in a letter from the Rev. Joseph
BADGER
to John FRAZIER, Esq., of Cincinnati, dated Plain, Wood county,
August 25, 1845.
Having been a resident missionary with the Wyandot Indians before the late war, and obtained the confidence of their chiefs in a familiar conversation with them, and having a good interpreter, I requested them to give me a history of their ancestors as far back as they could. They began by giving a particular account of the country formerly owned by their ancestors. It was the north side of the river St. Lawrence, down to Coon lake, and from thence up the Utiwas. Their name for it was Cu-none-tot-tia. This name I heard applied to them, but knew not what it meant. The Senecas owned the opposite side of the river and the island on which Montreal now stands. They were both large tribes, consisting of many thousands. They were blood relations, and I found at this time they claimed each other as cousins.
A war originated between the two
tribes in this way. A
man of the Wyandots wanted a certain woman
for his wife; but she objected, and said he was no warrior: he had never taken any
scalps. To
accomplish his object, he raised a small
war party, and in their scout fell upon a party of Seneca hunters,
killed and
scalped a number of them. This
procedure
began a war between the nations, that lasted more than a century, which
they
supposed was fully a hundred winters before the French came to Quebec. They owned they were the
first instigators in
the war, and were generally beaten in the contest.
Both tribes were greatly wasted in the
war. They often
made peace; but the
first opportunity the Senecas could get an advantage against them they
would
destroy all they could, men, women and children.
The Wyandots, finding they were in danger of
being exterminated, concluded to leave their country, and go far to the
West. With their
canoes the whole nation
made their escape to the upper lakes, and settled in the vicinity of
Green Bay,
in several villages, but, after a few years, the Senecas made up a
war-party
and followed them to their new settlements, fell on one of their
villages,
killed a number and returned. Through
this long period they had no instruments of war but bows, arrows, and
the war
club.
Soon after this the French came to
Quebec, and began trading with
Indians, and supplied them with fire-arms and utensils of various kinds. The Senecas having got
supplied with guns,
and learned the use of them, made out a second war-party against the
Wyandots—came upon them in the night, fired into their huts
and scared them
exceedingly: they
thought at first it
was thunder and lightning. They
did not
succeed so well as they
intended. After a
few years they made out a third
party, and fell upon on of the Wyandot villages and took them nearly
all; but
it so happened at this time that nearly all the young men had gone to
war with
the Fox tribe, living on the Mississippi.
Those few that escaped the massacre
by the Senecas agreed to give up
and go back with them and become one people, but requested of the
Senecas to
have two days to collect what they had and make ready their canoes, and
join
them on the morning of the third day at a certain point, where they had
gone to
wait for them and hold a great dance through the night.
The Wyandots sent directly to the other two
villages which the Senecas had not disturbed, and got all their old men
and
women, and such as could fight, to consult on what measures to take. They came to the
resolution to equip
themselves in the best manner they could, and go down in perfect
stillness so
near the enemy as to hear them. They
found them engaged in a dance, and feasting on two Wyandot men they had
killed
and roasted, as they said, for their beef; and as they danced they
shouted
their victory and told how good their Wyandot beef was.
They continued their dance until the latter
part of the night, and being pretty tired they all laid down and soon
fell into
a sound sleep.
A little before day the Wyandot
party fell on them and cut them all
off; not one was left to carry back the tidings.
This ended the war for a great number of
years. Soon after
this the Wyandots got
guns from the French traders and began to grow formidable. The Indians, who owned the
country where they
had resided for a long time, proposed to them to go back to their own
country. They
agreed to return, and
having prepared themselves as a war party, they returned—came
down to where
Detroit now stands, and agreed to settle in two villages, one at the
place
above mentioned, and the other where the British fort, Malden, now
stands.
But previously to making any
settlement they
sent out in canoes the best war party they could make, to go down the
lake some
distance to see if there was an enemy on that side of the water. They went down to Long
Point, landed, and
sent three men across to see if they could make any discovery. They found a party of
Senecas bending their
course around the Point, and returned with the intelligence to their
party. The head
chief ordered his men in
each canoe to strike fire,
PAGE 894
and
offer some of their
tobacco to the Great Spirit, and prepare for action.
The chief had his son, a small boy with him:
he covered the boy in the bottom of the canoe.
He determined to fight his enemy on the water. They put out into the open
lake: the Senecas
came on. Both
parties took the best advantage
they could, and fought with a determination to conquer or sink in the
lake. At length the
Wyandots saw the
last man fall in the Seneca party; but they had lost a great proportion
of
their own men, and were so wounded and cut to pieces that they could
take no
advantage of the victory but only to gain the shore as soon as
possible, and
leave the enemy’s canoes to float or sink among the waves. Thus
ended the long war
between the two tribes from that day to this.
Col.
John JOHNSTON relates, in his “Recollections,” an
interesting account of an
Indian council, held at Upper Sandusky in 1818, on the occasion of the
death of
TARHE, or “the Crane,” a celebrated chief of the
Wyandots.
Twenty-eight years ago, on the death of the great chief of the Wyandots, I was invited to attend a general council of all the tribes of Ohio, the Delawares of Indiana, and the Senecas of New York, at Upper Sandusky. I found, on arriving at the place, a very large attendance. Among the chiefs was the noted leader and orator, RED JACKET, from Buffalo. The first business done was the speaker of the nation delivering an oration on the character of the deceased chief. Then followed what might be called a monody, or ceremony, of mourning and lamentation. Thus seats were arranged from end to end of a large council-house, about six feet apart. The head men and the aged took their seats facing each other, stooping down their heads almost touching. In that position they remained for several hours. Deep, heavy and long continued groans would commence at one end of the row of mourners, and so pass round until all had responded, and these repeated at intervals of a few minutes. The Indians were all washed, and had no paint or decorations of any kind upon their persons, their countenances and general deportment denoting the deepest mourning. I had never witnessed anything of the kind before, and was told this ceremony was not performed but on the decease of some great man.
After the period of mourning and
lamentation was over, the Indians
proceeded to business. There
were
present the Wyandots, Shawanese, Delawares, Senecas, Ottawas and
Mohawks. The
business was entirely confined to their
own affairs, and the main topic related to their lands and the claims
of the
respective tribes. It
was evident, in
the course of the discussion, that the presence of myself and people
(there
were some white men with me) was not acceptable to some of the parties,
and
allusions were made so direct to myself that I was constrained to
notice them by
saying that I came there as the guest of the Wyandots by their special
invitation; that as the agent of the United States I had a right to be
there or
anywhere else in the Indian country; and that, if any insult was
offered to
myself or my people, it would be resented and punished.
RED JACKET was the principal speaker, and was
intemperate and personal in his remarks.
Accusations, pro and con, were made by the different
parties, accusing
each other of being foremost in selling lands to the United States. The Shawanese were
particularly marked out as
more guilty than any other; that they were the last coming into the
Ohio
country, and although they had no right but by permission of the other
tribes
they were always the foremost in selling lands.
This brought the Shawanese out who retorted through their
chief, the
BLACK HOOF, on the Senecas and Wyandots with pointed severity. The discussion was long
continued, calling
out some of the ablest speakers, and was distinguished for ability,
cutting
sarcasm and research—going far back into the history of the
natives, their
wars, alliances, negotiations, migrations, etc.
I had attended many councils, treaties and
gatherings of the Indians, but never in my life did I witness such an
outpouring of native oratory and eloquence, of severe rebuke, taunting
national
and personal reproaches. The
council
broke up late, in great confusion, and in the worst possible feeling. A circumstance occurred
towards the close
which more than anything else exhibited the bad feeling prevailing. In handing round the
wampum belt, the emblem
of amity, peace and good will, when presented to one of the chiefs, he
would
not touch it with his fingers, but passed it on a stick to the person
next him. A greater
indignity, agreeable to Indian
etiquette, could not be offered.
The next day appeared to be one of
unusual
anxiety and despondency among the Indians.
They could be seen in groups everywhere near the
council-house in deep
consultation. They
had acted
foolishly—were sorry; but the difficulty was, who would first
present the olive
branch. The council
convened late and
was very full; silence prevailed for a long time; at last the aged
chief of the
Shawanese, the BLACK HOOF, rose—a
man of great
influence, and a celebrated orator.
He told
the assembly they had acted like children, and not men, on yesterday;
that he
and his people were sorry for the words that had been spoken, and which
had
done so much harm; that he came into the council by the unanimous
desire of his
people present, to recall those foolish words, and did there take them
back-handing strings of wampum, which passed round and were received by
all
with the greatest satisfaction. Several
of the principal chiefs delivered
PAGE 895
speeches to
the same effect,
handing round wampum in turn, and in this manner the whole difficulty
of the
preceding day was settled, and to all appearance forgotten. The Indians are very
courteous and civil to
each other, and it is a rare thing to see their assemblies disturbed by
unwise
or ill-timed remarks. I
never witnessed
it except on the occasion here alluded to; and it is more than probable
that
the presence of myself
and other white men contributed
toward the unpleasant occurrence.
I
could not help but admire the genuine philosophy and good sense
displayed by
men whom we call savages in the transaction of their public business;
and how
much we might profit in the halls of our legislatures by occasionally
taking
for our example the proceedings of the great Indian council at Sandusky.
Upper Sandusky in
1846.—Upper
Sandusky, the county-seat, is on the west bank of
the Sandusky, sixty-three miles north of Columbus.
It was laid out in 1843, and now contains 1
Methodist church, 6 mercantile stores, 1 newspaper printing office, and
about
500 inhabitants. In
the war of 1812 Gen.
HARRISON built here Fort Ferree, which stood about fifty rods northeast
of the
court-house on a bluff. It
was a square
stockade of about two acres in area, with block-houses at the corners,
one of
which is now standing. One
mile north of
this, near the river, Gov. MEIGS encamped, in August, 1813, with
several
thousand of the Ohio militia, then on their way to the relief of Fort
Meigs. The place
was called “the Grand
Encampment.” Receiving
here the news of
the raising of the siege of Fort Meigs, and the repulse of the British
at Fort
Stephenson, they prosecuted their march no farther, and were soon after
dismissed.
Crane
Town, four miles northeast of the
court-house, was the Indian town of Upper Sandusky.
After the death of TARHE, the CRANE, in 1818,
the Indians transferred their council-house to the present Upper
Sandusky, gave
it this name, and called the other Crane Town.
Their old council-house stood about a mile and a half
north of Crane
Town. It was built
principally of bark,
and was about 100 feet long and 15 wide.
Their last council-house, at the present Upper Sandusky,
is yet standing
near the river bank. It
is a small frame
structure, resembling an ordinary dwelling.—Old
Edition.
On
the bank of the river, half a mile above Upper Sandusky, is a huge
sycamore,
which measures around, a yard from its base, thirty-seven feet, and at
its base
over forty feet. On
the Tyemochte, about
six miles west, formerly and perhaps now stands another sycamore,
hollow within,
and of such generous proportions that Mr. Wm. BROWN, a surveyor, now
residing
in Marion, with four others, several years since, slept comfortably in
it one
cool autumnal night, and had plenty of room.—Old
Edition.
The
big sycamore at Upper Sandusky is yet standing, perhaps the largest
live tree
east of the Rockies. Our
correspondent
writes: “A measurement taken in the fall of 1889 gave its
girth at the base
forty-one feet, and a few feet above thirty-nine feet; it has reached
its
summit of stateliness and glory. The
fact is it is now in a state of decline.
It has seven branches which start out from some twelve
feet from the
ground. I believe
it would make forty
cords of wood, though it is a mere guess.”
The big
sycamore is about fifty feet form the
river. Just before
his decease in 1885
the then owner of the land, being a stringent Methodist, was shocked by
the oft
gathering of the young men of the town, on Sundays, under its branches,
to play
cards. To remove
this temptation he
girdled the tree, and hauled brush and piled it around, intending to
burn it
down. The girdling
was not sufficiently
deep to destroy it, and then he was taken sick and died before he could
effect
its destruction by fire.
This
tree had had its equals elsewhere in the valleys of the Scioto and
Muskingum
(see Index).
It was to this county that the celebrated Simon
KENTON was brought captive when taken by the Indians.
We have two anecdotes to introduce respecting
him, communicated orally by Maj. James GALLOWAY, of Xenia, who was with
him on
PAGE 896
PAGE 897
the occasion.
The first illustrates the strength of
affection which existed among the early frontiersmen,
and the last their vivid recollection of localities.
In January, 1827, I was passing from Lower Sandusky, through the Wyandot reservation, in company with Simon KENTON. We stopped at CHAFFEE’s store, on the Tyemochte, and were sitting at the fire, when in stepped an old man dressed in a hunting-shirt, who, after laying his rifle in a corner, commenced trading. Hearing my companion’s voice, he stepped up to him and inquired, “Are you Simon KENTON?” He replied in the affirmative. “I am Joseph LAKE,” rejoined he. Upon this KENTON sprang up as if by electricity, and they both, by a simultaneous impulse, clasped each other around the neck, and shed tears of joy. They had been old companions in fighting the Indians, and had not met for thirty years. The scene was deeply affecting to the bystanders. After being an hour or two together, recalling old times, they embraced and parted in tears, never again expecting to meet.
While
travelling through
the Sandusky plains KENTON recognized at the distance of half a mile
the
identical grove in which he had run the gauntlet in the war of the
Revolution, forty-nine years before. A further examination
tested the truth of his
recollection, for there was the very race-path still existing in which
he had
run. It was near a
road leading from Upper
Sandusky to Bellefontaine, eight or ten miles from the former. I expressed my surprise at
his remembering
it. “Ah!”
replied he, “I had a good many
reasons laid on my back to recollect it.”
Upper
Sandusky, county-seat of Wyandot, sixty miles northwest of Columbus and
sixty-four miles southeast of Toledo, is at the crossing of the P. Ft.
W. &
C. and C. H. V. & T. Railroads.
County Officers, 1888 : Auditor, Samuel J. WIRICK; Clerk,
Anselm MARTIN;
Commissioners, Caspar VEITH, James H. BARNTHOUSE, John CASEY; Coroner,
J. A.
FRANCISCO; Infirmary Directors, Christian BARTH, John BINAU, Matthew
ORIANS;
Probate Judge, Curtis BERRY, Jr.; Prosecuting Attorney, James T. CLOSE;
Recorder, Jacob P. KAIG; Sheriff, Henry J. SHUMAKER; Surveyor, William
C. GEAR;
Treasurer, Andrew H. FLICKINGER. City
Officers, 1888: Joel
W. GIBSON, Mayor;
W. R. HARE, Clerk; Nicholas GRUNDTISCH, Marshal; D. D. HARE, Solicitor;
Frand
KELLER, Treasurer; Joseph KELLER, Street Commissioner.
Newspapers:
Wyandot Chief, H. A.
TRACHT,
editor and publisher; Wyandot Union,
Democrat, R. D. DUMM & Son, editors and publishers; Die Germania, German Democrat, Jacob
SCHELL, Jr., editor; Wyandot County Republican,
Republican,
Pietro CUNEO, editor and publisher.
Churches: 1
Catholic, 1
Presbyterian, 1 United Brethren, 1 African Methodist Episcopal, 1
German
Lutheran, 1 English Lutheran, 1 Methodist Episcopal, 1 Evangelical, 1
German
Reformed, 1 Universalist. Banks: First National, S. W.
WATSON, president; Jas.
G. ROBERTS, cashier; Wyandot County, Lovell B. HARRIS, president; Ed A.
GORDON,
cashier.
Manufactures and Employees.-INGARD
&
SMITH, planing mill, 5 hands; KERR Brothers, flour, etc., 4; John
SHEALY,
planing mill, 13; AGERTER, STEVENSON & Co., general machine
work; S.
BECHLER, lager beer, 4; Jacob GLOESER, tannery, 3; W. S. STREBY, flour,
etc.,
1.—State Report,
1888.
Population in 1890, 3,568.
School census, 1888,
1,170; W. A. BAKER, school
superintendent. Capital
invested
in industrial establishments, $135,000.
Value of annual product,
$143,000.—Ohio Labor Statistics, 1887.
The
Methodists sustained a mission among the Wyandots for many years. Previous to the
establishment of the
Methodists a portion of the tribe had been for a long while under the
religious
instruction of the Catholics. The
first
Protestant who preached among them at Upper Sandusky was John STEWART,
a
mulatto, a member of the Methodist denomination, who came here of his
own
accord in 1816, and gained much influence over them.
His efforts in their behalf paved the way for
a regularly established mission a few years after, when the Rev. James
B.
FINLEY, at present (1846) chaplain of the Ohio penitentiary, formed a
church
and established a school here. This
was
the first Indian mission formed by the Methodists in the Mississippi
valley.
The mission church building was erected of
blue limestone about the year 1824,
PAGE 898
from government
funds, Rev. Mr. FINLEY
having permission from Hon. John C. CALHOUN, then Secretary of War, to
apply
$1,333 to this object. The
church stands
upon the outskirts of the town, in a small enclosure, surrounded by
woods. Connected
with the mission was
a school-house, and a farm of one mile square.
WYANDOT
MISSION CHURCH AT UPPER SANDUSKY.
Drawn
by
Henry Howe in
1846.
The
following inscriptions are copied from monuments in the grave-yard,
attached to
the mission church:
Between-the-Logs, died
December, 1826, aged fifty years.
___________
Rev.
John Stewart, first
missionary to the Wyandots; died December 17, 1833, aged 37 years.
___________
Sum-mun-de
wat,
murdered December 4, 1845, aged 46 years.
Buried in Wood county,
Ohio.
The
remains of Sum-mun-de-wat were subsequently reinterred here. He was, at the time of his
death, on a
hunting excursion with his family in Hancock county. In the evening three white
men with axes
entered their camp, and were hospitably entertained by their host. After having finished
their suppers the
Indian, agreeable to his custom, kneeled and prayed in his own
language, and
then laid down with his
wife to sleep. In
the night these miscreants who had been so
kindly treated rose on them in their sleep and murdered Sum-mun-de-wat
and his
wife with their axes in the most brutal manner.
They then robbed the camp and made off, but were
apprehended and allowed
to break jail. In
speaking of this case
Col. JOHNSTON says that, in a period of fifty-three years, since he
first came
to the West, he never knew of but one instance in which a white man was
tried,
convicted and executed for the murder of an Indian.
This exception was brought about by his own
agency in the prosecution, sustained by the promptness of John C.
CALHOUN, then
Secretary of War, who manifested an interest in this affair not often
shown on
similar occasions in the officers of our government.
Sum-mun-de-wat
is frequently mentioned in the Rev. Mr. FINLEY’s interesting
history of the
Wyandot mission, published by the Methodist Book Concern at Cincinnati. The following anecdote
which he relates of
this excellent chief shows the simple and expressive language in which
the
Christian Wyandots related their religious feelings:
“Sum-mun-de-wat
amused me after her came home by
relating a circumstance that transpired one cold evening just before
sundown. ‘I
met,’ said he, ‘on a small
path, not far from my camp, a man who ask me if I could talk
English.’ I
said, ‘Little.’
He
PAGE 899
asked
me, ‘How far is
it to a house?’ I
answer, ‘I don’t
know--may be ten miles--may be eight miles.’
‘Is there a path leading to it?’
‘No-by and by dis go out (pointing to the path
they were on), den all
woods. You go home
me—sleep—me
go show you tomorrow.’
Then he come my camp—so take
horse—tie—give him some corn and
brush—then
my wife give him supper. He
ask where I
come. I say,
‘Sandusky.’ He
say, ‘You know
FINLEY?’ ‘Yes,’
I say, ‘he is my
brother—my father.’
Then he say,
‘He is my
brother.’ Then
I feel something in my heart
burn. I say,
‘You
preacher?’ He
say,
‘Yes;’ and I shook hands and say, ‘My
brother!’
Then we try talk. Then
I say ‘You
sing and pray.’ So
he did. Then he say to me,
‘Sing and pray.’
So I did; and I so much
cry I can’t pray. No
go sleep—I can’t—I
wake—my heart full. All
night I pray and
praise God, for his send me preacher to sleep my camp.
Next morning soon come,
and he want to go. Then
I go show him
through the woods until come to big road.
Then he took me by hand and say
‘Farewell,
brother; by and by we meet up in heaven.’
Then me
cry, and my brother cry. We
part—I go hunt. All
day I cry, and no see deer jump up and
run away. Then I go
and pray by some
log. My heart so full
of joy that I cannot walk much.
I
say ‘I cannot hunt.’
Sometimes I
sing—then I stop and clap my hands, and look up to God, my
heavenly
Father. Then the
love come so fast in my
heart, I can hardly stand. So
I went
home, and said, ‘This is my happiest
day.’”
The history of
the mission relates an anecdote of ROHN-YEN-NESS, another of the
Christian
Indians. It seems
that after the
conflict of POE with the Indians the Wyandot determined on revenge.
POE
then lived on the
west side of the Ohio river,
at the mouth of Little
Yellow creek. They
chose ROHN-YEN-NESS
as a proper person to murder him, and then make his escape. He went to POE’s
house, and was met with
great friendship. POE
not having any
suspicion of his design, the best in his house was furnished him. When the time to retire to
sleep came he made
a pallet on the floor for the Indian guest to sleep.
He and his wife went to bed in the same
room. ROHN-YEN-NESS
said they both soon
fell asleep. There
being no person about
the house but some children, this afforded him a fair opportunity to
have
executed his purpose; but the kindness they had shown him worked in his
mind. He asked
himself how he could get
up and kill even an enemy that had taken him in and treated him so
well—so much
like a brother? The
more he thought
about it the worse he felt; but still, on the other hand, he was sent
by his
nation to avenge the death of two of its most valiant warriors; and
their
ghosts would not be appeased until the blood of POE was shed. There, he said, he lay in
this conflict of
mind until about midnight. The
duty he
owed to his nation, and the spirits of his departed friends, aroused
him. He seized his
knife and tomahawk, and crept
to the bedside of his sleeping host.
Again the kindness he had received from POE stared him in
the face; and
he said, it is mean, it
is unworthy the character of
an Indian warrior to kill even an enemy, who has so kindly treated him. He went back to his pallet
and slept until
morning.
His kind host loaded him with
blessings, and told him that they were
once enemies, but now they had buried the hatchet and were brothers,
and hoped
they would always be so. ROHN-YEN-NESS,
overwhelmed with a sense of the generous treatment he had received from
his
once powerful enemy, but now his kind friend, left him to join his
party.
He said the more he reflected on
what he had done, and the course he
had pursued, the more he was convinced that he had done right. This once revengeful
savage warrior was
overcome by the kindness of an evening, and all his plans frustrated.
This man became one of the most
pious and devoted of the Indian
converts. Although
a chief, he was
humble as a child. He
used his steady
influence against the traders and their fire-water.—Old Edition.
The foregoing
concludes our original
account of the Indian mission. We
extend
this history with other matters of interest.
HISTORIC
AND BIOGRAPHIC MISCELLANIES.
Wyandot
Mission
John STEWART, the
first preacher among
the Wyandots, found living with them a negro,
Jonathan
POINTER, who acted as his interpreter, as STEWART could not speak the
Indian
language. POINTER
was an unbeliever, and
did much to nullify the effect of STEWART’s preaching by
remarking after the
translation of a sentence into the Wyandot tongue,
“That’s what the preacher
says, but I don’t believe it,” etc.
Notwithstanding
this STEWART made many converts.
PAGE 900
When Rev. James
B. FINLEY came to the mission in 1821, he built a log-mission and
school-house—the first Protestant mission in America.
In
this mission house the Indian maidens were taught to cook, bake and
sew, while
outside, in field, at anvil and at bench, the young men learned the
trades of
civilization. Thus
was started the first
industrial school on the continent.
The
number of converts continued to increase rapidly, and soon a special
place of
worship was needed. Through
the aid of
the government the stone mission church was built.
It was finished late in 1824, and for nearly
twenty years the Indians met for worship in it, and buried their dead
within
the shade of its sacred walls.
In
1842 a treaty was effected
by which the Wyandot
Indians were removed to a reservation west of the Mississippi, the
United
States government agreeing that the mission church and the ground
around it
containing the graves of its dead congregation should remain forever
consecrated to the purpose for which it was
OLD
MISSION CHURCH, 1888
MOTHER SOLOMON.
originally designed. “In order,
therefore,” the agreement read,
“that the object of the aforesaid reservation may be secured
and carried out,
we request that the Methodist Episcopal Church take possession thereof
and
appoint trustees over the same according to its rules and
regulations.”
For
a time after the Indians left, the church and graves were kept up, but
they
were soon forgotten, and the roof decayed and fell in, and the walls
crumbled.
In
1888, however, the General Conference of the M. E. Church determined to
make
amends, and appropriated $2,000 to restore the church.
Work was begun and finished in 1889.
The church has been restored as nearly as
possible to its original appearance.
Probably the most interested spectator on this
occasion was an old woman who lived alone in an
humble
home north of Upper Sandusky, on the banks of the Indian’s
beloved Sandusky
river. She was a
full-blooded Wyandot
Indian, the daughter of John GREY EYES, a noted chief.
She was born in 1816, and when in 1821 Rev.
FINLEY opened his mission school, Margaret GREY EYES was the first
little
maiden who was brought to be taught.
When the Indians went west in 1843 she went with them, but
some years
ago, after her husband, John SOLOMON, died, she returned and bought the
home
where she lived quietly and alone.
Of
all the Indians who parted from their beloved church in 1843 she was
the only
BETWEEN-THE-LOGS.
MONONCUE.
A Christian Wyandot preacher.
A Christian Wyandot
preacher.
PAGE 902
one who was present at
its restoration,
being the only one of the tribe living in Ohio—the last of
the Wyandots.
Mother
SOLOMON, as she was known in the vicinity of Upper Sandusky, died
August 17,
1890.
Two
of the Christian Indians of the Wyandot mission are deserving of
special
mention, BETWEEN-THE-LOGS and MONONCUE.
The latter was a man of great native eloquence, and of
great service to
the mission as a local preacher, exerting much influence among the
people of
his tribe. He was a
cheerful and ready
worker, and a man of warm affections.
Rev. J. B. FINLEY speaks of him as “my faithful
Indian friend and
brother,”
BETWEEN-THE-LOGS
was born about the year
1780, his father a Seneca and
his mother a Wyandot of the Bear tribe.
He took part in battle with the Indians when they were
defeated by
General WAYNE, became a chief in his tribe at an early age, and on
account of
his retentive memory and ability in discussion was constituted chief
speaker of
the nation.
He
spent a year with the Shawnee prophet, TECUMSEH’s brother,
and returning to his
tribe convinced them that the prophet’s pretensions were
destitute of
truth. He also
detected the fallacy of
the Seneca prophet’s pretensions.
As
head chief of the Wyandots in the Indian council at Brownstown, he
rejected all
overtures to join in war against the Americans.
He and his warriors left the council and joined the
American cause. When
General HARRISON invaded Canada,
BETWEEN-THE-LOGS, in company with a party of Wyandot chiefs and
warriors,
accompanied him.
After
the war he settled permanently near Upper Sandusky.
He became intemperate, and in a drunken fit
killed his wife. When
sober the horror
of this deed caused him to measurably abandon the use of ardent spirits.
When
STEWART, the colored missionary, went among the Wyandots
BETWEEN-THE-LOGS was
the first man converted. He
became a
regularly appointed exhorter in the church, was a regular attendant
upon the
annual Ohio conference, at which he made some of the most eloquent and
rational
speeches delivered. Rev.
James B.
FINLEY, from whose
“Autobiography” this sketch is
derived, says of this Indian chief:
“BETWEEN-THE-LOGS
was rather above the
common stature, broad and thin
built, but otherwise well proportioned, with an open and manly
countenance.
“Through
his life he had to contend with strong passions, which through grace he
happily
overcame in the end. His
memory was so
tenacious that he retained every matter of importance, and related it,
when
necessary, with minute correctness that was truly astonishing. And such were his natural
abilities otherwise
that, had he received a suitable education, few would have exceeded him
either
as a minister of the gospel or as a statesman or politician.”
The
Matthew
BRAYTON
Mystery.
In
the fall of 1825 the disappearance of Matthew BRAYTON, a child of seven
years,
from the home of his parents in Crawford township, Wyandot county,
aroused the sympathy and interest of the pioneers throughout a wide
extent of
territory.
William BRAYTON, Matthew’s elder brother, had
started with him in search of some stray cattle; after proceeding some
two or
three miles they were joined by Mr. HART, a neighbor, and as the search
promised to be a protracted one, Matthew was told to follow a path
through the
forest to Mr. BAKER’s house, some sixty rods distant, and
there await his
brother’s return. At
the close of day
William BRAYTON called at Mr. BAKER’s residence, but found
Matthew had not been
there. He hastened
to his home, informed
his parents, and a hunting party set out at once to search for the
missing
boy. His tracks
were traced for a little
way along the path he had taken and then lost.
All the next day the search continued, the
PAGE 903
hunting party increasing in
number as the story
of the lost boy spread throughout the region, but the day closed, and
no
further trace of the boy found. The
second day the woods were filled with searching parties that came in
from all
directions to show their sympathy and lend their aid to the distressed
parents.
The
Indian villages were examined, but the Wyandots not only expressed
ignorance of
the boy’s movements but joined in the search with great zeal. It was learned from them,
however, that a
party of Canadian Indians had passed north on the day of the
boy’s
disappearance, but they did not know whether the boy was with them or
not.
The
search continued for many days, the settlers for miles around
participating,
but nothing further could be learned of the boy, and the search was
finally
abandoned.
Years
passed by and the story of the boy’s disappearance became one
of the unsolved
mysteries of the past. The
parents,
however, never gave up hope of recovering their lost child: every vague
rumor
was followed up without avail, until, after a lapse of sixteen years,
the
mother died of a broken heart, in her last moments weeping for her lost
child.
Thirty-four
years after the boy’s disappearance the BRAYTON family
learned through a weekly
newspaper of an Indian captive, then in Cleveland, who did not know his
own
name, but in his youth had been stolen by Canadian Indians from some
place in
northwestern Ohio, had been taken into Michigan, and after thirty-four
years of
captivity had returned to Ohio to find his parents.
William
BRAYTON at once started to see the “captive.”
Previous to setting out he had been instructed by his
father to look for
two scars by which his brother might be identified—one on his
head, and the
other on his great toe of the right foot, resulting from the cut of an
axe. The returned
“captive” was examined
and found to have these scars on his person just as represented by the
father. Word was
sent to the BRAYTON
family that the long lost child had been found after many years, and
was on his
way home. The news
spread throughout the
region, and for many miles from his home multitudes of people gathered
at the
railroad stations to see the man whose experience had been so
remarkable. Among
them were many old men who had searched
for the lost boy; aged mothers whose hearts had ached in sympathy for
the
bereaved parents; young men and maidens who had heard the story of the
lost boy
related by their parents at the fireside.
The
meeting at the family home was extremely touching, but the season of
rejoicing
was of short duration, for it soon transpired that it was not the long
lost son
and brother returned, but the child of other parents, and no tidings of
Matthew
BRAYTON ever reached his family.
It
was conclusively proven that the “captive” was
William TODD, and he was
restored to his parents in Michigan.
At
the outbreak of the rebellion he enlisted in the cavalry service, and
died in
Nashville, Tenn. The
foregoing account
is abridged from the Wyandot County History.
An
Immigrant’s
Experience
The
career of Mr. Pietro CUNEO, as given in the Wyandot
County Republican, is such a striking, instructive example of
the result of
industrious perseverance in a high purpose and its possibilities under
the
institutions of American government, as contrasted with the conditions
of life
under foreign governments, that we are constrained to make a few
extracts
therefrom for the education of the youth of Ohio.
Mr. CUNEO was born in a small village near Genoa, Italy. He says:
Reports
of America.—My
father had heard good reports of America.
A neighbor of his returned home with some money, and his
enthusiastic
accounts of what he saw here and opportunities for making something
gave my
father the American Fever. He
saw no
hope
PAGE 904
of
ever improving his
condition over there. Yes,
the poor
peasant is born in a rude and humble home, and there he must die. He cultivates his little
hillside and fields
of ground, eats his common coarse meal, admires the beauties with which
nature
has surrounded him, but no light of education enters his mind. There were then no rolling
mills, factories
or mechanical establishments to furnish him steady labor, or even to
incite him
to industry. He was
born poor—poor and
uneducated he must remain. Nature
has
done all she could for him, but he is the victim of cruel tyranny. I tell you, my friends,
that it may be, and
undoubtedly is, very pleasing to the eye, to behold the very elaborate
terraced
hillsides, and valley decorated with grapevines, fig and olive trees,
but to
reside and make a living there is altogether a different thing.
Despotic
Rule.—And what is
still more unendurable is the stern fact of having to live under rulers
who
occupy their positions, not because of eminent merits, peculiar
qualification,
or the voice of the people over whom they rule, but simply by the right
of
hereditary descent, a principle which originated in hell. Then,
too, with the
knowledge that those very despots are placed over you and your children
for
life. There
is no alternative but
to bow and submit. I
wish you to think
for a moment, and to imagine what feeling would creep over you, if you
were now
to be informed that you had no longer a voice in the making of your
laws and
the choice of your rulers. In
this
country the people are the rulers, and the officers
mere hired servants. In
Italy a public
functionary will pass you with less respect than you would a cow. In this country he will
stop to inquire as to
the condition of your health, and that of your family, especially if he
be a
shrewd politician, with aspirations for re-election or promotion. He knows that, religiously
and politically,
you stand upon the infallible rock of equality, and he treats you
accordingly. Here
every citizen worships
God as he pleases. If
our public
servants prove meritorious, we honor them by re-election; and if
unworthy, we
kick them out and repeal the bad laws they have enacted. In Italy, although a man
may have the brains
of an ignoramus, and the heart of a villain, yet if he be the son of a
king he
becomes heir to the throne; and he who is born poor, although endowed
with the
genius of Shakspeare, and the wisdom of a Franklin, he must die as he
was born,
in obscurity.
Liberty
and Equality.—But
in this country, thanks be to God, the
noble patriots who established this benign government, and the hosts of
its
living maimed defenders, the fact that a man may have been born in an
humble
cottage and followed the trade of a tanner, like General GRANT; split
rails,
like Abraham LINCOLN; drove a canal boat, like James A. GARFIELD; or
taught
school for a living, like Millard FILLMORE, does not debar him from
becoming
the honored executive of the nation.
Truly here are no distinctions but such as man’s
merits may
originate. Here the
temple of fame opens
its portals alike to all. Still
it is my
experience, that whatever
may be a man’s surroundings,
or the country where he resides, the novelty of all around him will
wear off,
and in turn he becomes the victim of despondency and discontentment. The peasant of Italy is
ignorant, without
ambition, and requires much less to
satisfy him. Our
own people are ambitious. This
is right. A man
without ambition is as worthless and
powerless as an engine without steam.
But the more we have the greater our desire for what we
have not.
Appreciation
of American
Institutions.—We take up a poor boy, educate him,
make a Governor of him,
send him to Congress, and then, instead of feeling grateful, he will
growl, and
even abandon his benefactors, because they don’t keep him
there for life, or
elect him to the Presidency. The
Italian
peasant feels thankful and happy when he has health, sufficient to eat
and
work; but we keep up the perpetual cry of “hard
times,” because we haven’t
thousands of bushels of wheat to sell and piles of greenbacks in the
back. And when we
have plenty of wheat we are not
happy, because the price is too low.
Now, my kind reader, when you are disposed to despond,
when business is
dull, don’t fret because you aint in California, digging up
nuggets of gold;
but remember how transcendentally superior is your lot when compared
with the
condition of the peasants of Italy, and the millions of the poor and
oppressed
of other lands. He
who fails to find a
reasonable degree of happiness in America is truly to be pitied, for I
don’t
know where he can go to better his condition.
It has often seemed to me that the American people do not
appreciate
their institutions and privileges as they should.
I will not say that I prize and enjoy them
better than they, but I do say, most emphatically, that I appreciated
them for
better than if I had not gone through what I have related in these
chats.
Sails for America.—On
March 6, 1849,
Pietro, then thirteen years of age, accompanied his father to Genoa,
from which
city they were to sail for America.
“In
sixty days from the time we sailed we reached New York city. There were about one
hundred passengers on
that little ship. We
were packed below
like criminals, and our situation, especially during the prevalence of
sea-sickness, can be better imagined than described.”
An
Organ Grinder.—“When I arrived in New
York I could not understand
PAGE 905
a solitary word of
the English language,
had no trade, and could not read nor write my own name in any language. What to do was the
question. Father
was advised to start me out with an
organ. He
accordingly rented one. I
shouldered it, and went to that part of the
city then called ‘Five Points.’
I rested
the organ on a cane and proceeded to turn the crank.
I gathered a few pennies, but soon found that
I could not carry it. It
was different
form those we occasionally see on our streets.
It had a top to it in which were
figures that
danced to the tunes played. It
was too
heavy for me, and so father had to return it to the owner. I have mentioned this to
some kind friends,
and it got to the ears of some Democratic editors, and when they got
displeased
at me they called me ‘the organ grinder.’
I am guilty, and the worst of it is that I did not make a
success of
it. I gave them the
best tunes that the
internal machinery of the box and diligently turning of the crank would
afford,
took such pennies, and they were few, passers-by saw fit to give me. If I had been three or
four years older I
think I would have made it go. I
would
have added a monkey to the business after a while.
I had the will but not the strength so I made
a failure of it. And
I tell you I was
discouraged and home-sick.”
A
Farm Laborer.—From
New York he went to Philadelphia, and
then worked on a farm in Milford, Del., receiving three dollars per
month and
board. In about two
years, on account of
sickness, his father was compelled to return to Italy, expecting Pietro
to
follow, but the latter had begun to master the difficulties of the
English
language, and decided to remain in America.
For the next four years he drifted from farm to farm in
the vicinity of
Philadelphia. In
1852, while working on
the farm of Mr. STARN near Camden, N.J., he was urged by his friends
and
fellow-laborers to go to school and learn to read and write.
“Mr. STARN told me that if
I wanted to go to school he would board
me for what work I could do about the farm night and morning, or, if I
wanted
to work steadily, he would give me three dollars per month. I accepted the latter
offer, and promised to
try and learn at home in the evenings.
The teacher was boarding in the family of Mr. STARN, and
offered to
teach me; so I purchased a spelling book and tried a few evenings, but
soon
became utterly discouraged, and gave the book to a little daughter of
Mr.
Samuel ROSS.”
A year later, at the age of
seventeen, he again tried to get the
rudiments of an education, and took his first lesson in learning the
alphabet.
Learning to
Read and Write.—“I
tried hard to learn, and the teacher and pupils took particular pains
to assist
me. The teacher,
Wm. SNOWDEN, I think,
was his name, and the pupils, were very kind to me.
He became interested in my welfare, and soon
after I began the term he invited me to stand by his side one noon,
while he
was eating dinner, and spell words on the book, which he helped me to
pronounce. The next
day I did not go
up. The second day
he invited me
again. I went up,
and he asked me why I
did not go up the day before. I
told him
that I did not know that he wanted me to do so.
He then explained that he was willing to hear me every
noon. I was only
too glad to accept. So,
after that, every noon, for the balance
of the winter, I stood by his side and spelled a lesson while he was
eating his
dinner. It was no
trouble to him, but a
great favor to me. He
was one of God’s
noblest men. On
taking my leave of
school I asked my teacher to sell me a copy of
‘SWANN’S Instructive Reader,’ of
which he had several ‘second-hand copies.
‘Why,’ said he, ‘what do you
want with it? You
can’t read it.’
‘Well,’ said I, ‘I will keep
it till I
can.’ He
said I could have a copy for 12
1/2 cents. I took
him up and honored my
promise as I kept the book, read, and have it yet.
I was determined to make a useful man of
myself if possible, and decided to work hard during the spring, summer
and fall
of each year, and attend school during the three winter months till I
arrived
at the age of twenty-one. I
had heard
good reports of Pennsylvania, and in the fall came to Coatesville
, Chester county, of that state.
“What
Does United States Mean?”—During the next
two winters he began to study
arithmetic and geography. “After
a while
I came to the map of the ‘United States,’ and the
question in my mind was, What
does that mean?
I knew I was in America, but I could not understand what
the words
‘United’ and ‘States’ meant,
and I am free to confess I never thoroughly
understood their meaning till after I studied ‘Young Science
of Government,’
‘De Tocquesville’s American
Institutions,’ the history of American Colonies and
the War for American Independence.
One
great obstacle in the way of my progress was the fact that I did not
comprehend
the meaning of so many words. In
studying arithmetic I labored under peculiar difficulties as I could
not
understand the rules. Well,
I purchased
a small pocket dictionary, but here I met with new and unexpected
difficulties,
for when I resorted to it I was as much at a loss to un-
PAGE 906
derstand
the definitions as the
words themselves. When
I read a book or
paper I found so many strange words that I could hardly get any sense
of the
subject. I finally
resorted to this practice :
When I found strange words I wrote them on a slip
of paper, and, after I was through reading, would examine the
dictionary and
write the definition opposite the word, and carried it in my pocket. When at my work I would
reflect over what I
had read; and if I could not remember the words or their meaning I
would pull
the slip from my pocket and read it.
To
learn to pronounce the words was another great task, and one which I
never
expected to master.”
Wants to be
an Editor.—In
September, 1856, Mr. CUNEO came to Canton, Ohio, worked in the shops of
Aultman
& Co., carrying lumber and doing other manual labor at
seventy-seven cents
a day. He worked
for this firm for the
next nine years, excepting during certain intervals when he worked on a
farm
for his board while attending school.
He
gradually mastered, with great difficulty, one after another of the
different
branches taught in the public schools until he received notice of his
promotion
to the high school. From
time to time he
purchased standard books until he had the nucleus of a library, and in
the fall
of 1858 taught in a school where he had formerly been a pupil. Through reading the
“Life and Essays of
Benjamin FRANKLIN” he was stimulated with a desire to become
a newspaper
editor, and entered the office of the Stark County Republican
as a printer’s “devil” at the age of
twenty-two. About
five months later his parents arrived
in Canton, and as he could render them and his sisters no assistance
while an
apprentice in a printing office he was obliged to return to work in the
shops
of Aultman & Co. In
the fall of
1865, still ambitious to become an editor, he purchased with his
savings a half
interest in the Medina Gazette. In September, 1866, he
sold out this interest
and purchased the Wyandot Pioneer,
of
Upper Sandusky. He
changed its name to
the Wyandot County Republican in
1869, and has been its sole editor and proprietor ever since.
In
concluding the sketch of his career Mr.
CUNEO says:
Mean fun.—During the several years I worked
in the machine shops I
carried books in my pocket, and when I arrived at the shops a few
minutes
before the time to commence work I would seize the books and study them. Sometimes, when deeply
absorbed over those
books, some of the shop fellows would throw iron turnings on me, which
would
come down like vigorous hail. But
when I
looked to learn who threw them, no one was to be seen—that
is, the guilty
fellow was not visible. It
was very
annoying and unkind to me, but great fun for the boys.
When working on the farm I kept a
book in the barn, and while the
horses ate I read. Thus
I gathered a
little here and a little there, which has been a great help to me.
Poor
Boy’s Opportunities.—I
had now acquired such a thirst for knowledge, that when I heard of a
book, the
study of which I thought would assist me,
I resolved
to have it if it took the very last cent.
As I continued my readings I found that the great
philosopher, Benjamin
FRANKLIN, was once a poor printer boy; the statesman, Roger SHERMAN, was
a shoemaker;
William WIRT was left a poor orphan boy at eight years of age. In fact I found that a
large number of those
who have contributed so much to the lustre of our nationality and the
glory of
our institutions began their careers in obscurity and poverty.
Then, too, as I looked among the
living, I saw men everywhere, who
were once poor, in the possession of wealth and stations of honor. This encouraged me, for
the idea of poor boys
becoming rich was new to me, as I never saw such instances in Italy. The experience of others
taught me the fact
that, in most every community, in this country, the men and women who
have made
honorable reputations, and achieved success in business and mental
culture,
began in humble circumstances, often at the very bottom of the ladder. Yes, in the old country,
men boast of having
royal blood flowing in their veins, but in this country we often point
with
pride to an humble log-house—which we did not own, but paid
rent for the
privilege of living in it—as our starting point. True, indeed, that
“Westward the star of
empire takes its way,” and equally true, that the heart of
the honest,
ambitious American lad looks upward
and onward, in the direction of an
honorable career which is within the reach of every boy gifted with
common
sense, integrity, grit and laudable ambition.
Pleasure in
Work.—In
conclusion, and in all candor,
allow me to assure you,
reader, that I see nothing in the story of my humble experience to
boast
about. Indeed, I
have never thought and
have no intentions of applying for a patent for anything recorded above. I claim no merits for myself,
have done nothing that any ordinary boy may not do.
Every boy, born in this country, has at once
the advantage of learning our language from his mother’s
lips, and entering the
school door at the age of six years.
I
had a harder struggle to learn what little I know, of the English
language,
than most of our boys have in acquiring a practical common school
education. In fact,
with me, progress in
the way of acquiring knowledge and property has always seemed slow,
hard work,
uphill. But there
is a pleasure in
diligent study, persistent industry and practical management. I wish I could impress
upon the minds of my
young readers that we are most happy when we are busy, engaged in
accomplishing
something useful. The
writing of this
long article has been a pleasing task to me.
Gratitude
for American Institutions.—But
may I not hope that
the perusal of this simple narration of facts will cheer the hearts of
some
lads, who are depressed, and whose future seems gloomy, as mine did. Oh, no, I
PAGE 907
shall
not boast, for the long
weary years, the heartaches and gloomy future of my boyhood and young
manhood
are far more vividly impressed upon my mind and heart than any joy I
ever
experienced. No, I
claim no merits for
myself, but attribute what little success may have attended my efforts
to the
free, common schools of our glorious county, and have thus briefly
related my
experience, since arriving in America, for the purpose of demonstrating
to our
young men that they are surrounded by golden opportunities, which, if
properly
improved, will enable them in due time to reap a pleasurable harvest. I close with works and
sentiments that I
penned a little over eighteen year ago, and which are as warm in my
heart now
as they were then: “The gratitude I bear toward those who
urged me to go to
school, and gave me an opportunity to do so
: to the
teachers and this benign government, which opened the schoolroom doors
to me,
shall only fade away when my heart shall beat no more.
God grant that this, my adopted country, this
beloved land, this paradise for men on earth, this asylum for the
oppressed of
all countries, this Union of States and of hearts, may be as lasting
and
indestructible as Time.”
Wyandot Execution.
The
following account of the execution for murder of a Wyandot Indian has
been
written for this work by Dr. A. W. MUNSON, of Kenton, O., an
eye-witness of the
execution, under date of Kenton, O., January 3, 1891, and directed to
Henry
Howe:
In compliance with a
promise made you on
your visit to this city a few years ago I send the following account of
the
incidents leading to and connected with the last Wyandot Indian
execution which
took place at Upper Sandusky in October, 1840.
For many years previous to the time here spoken of, owing
to Christian
influence, the Wyandot nation had been divided into two parties, one
known as
the Christian, the other as the Heathen party.
May
of the Indians, being very fond of drink, would become intoxicated
whenever
they could obtain whiskey, and when intoxicated were troublesome and
difficult
to control. In
consequence of this, the
United States officers at the Agency had issued an order prohibiting
persons
settling on the reservation from selling or giving to any Indian any
intoxicating liquors.
There
being no law preventing persons living outside the reservation from
keeping and
selling liquor to any person, a number of small villages outside were
liberally
supplied with liquor vendors, from whom the Indians could obtain all
they
wanted. It was in
one of these villages
that a party of Indians in September, 1840, congregated, many of whom
became
intoxicated and engaged in numerous contentions.
Among those present were two who were parties
to the tragedy about to be described.
The
Murder.—One
old man, a half-brother to a prominent
half-breed named John BARNET, belonged to the Christian party, and
although he
had indulged in frequent potations, was but slightly intoxicated; the
other, a
young man, the son of a noted chief know as “BLACK
CHIEF,” was a rude and
turbulent fellow, and had become greatly intoxicated during the day. Late in the afternoon, the
former having
procured a jug of whiskey started to go home, when the latter joined
him. Their route
was along a trail through the
thick woods. Soon
after entering the
forest the young Indian wanted the old man to give him some whiskey,
and when
refused became enraged and seizing a bludgeon dealt the old man a
murderous
blow on the head, felling him to the ground, and following up his
murderous
blows crushed the head of the prostrate victim, killing him on the spot.
The
Arrest and Trial.—Soon
thereafter a body of Indians going along
the trail came upon the dead body of the victim, and passing a short
distance
farther found the murderer, still drunk, and lying upon the ground fast
asleep,
while the jug sat near by. This
party
seized the drunken Indian,
and, binding his arms,
conveyed him, together with the dead body, to Upper Sandusky, and
lodged the
former in the little Indian jail for safe-keeping.
The news of the tragedy created great
excitement in the nation, and soon the executive council ordered an
examination,
whereupon the prisoner was taken before that tribunal, and after
examining into
the particulars found him guilty of murder while in a state of
intoxication,
and sentenced him to perpetual banishment and the confiscation of all
his
property.
This
disposition of the
case caused great dissatisfaction among the nation, especially among
the
Christian party, and a demand was made for a reversal of the decree,
and the
culprit to be tried by the highest tribunal, viz., a trial before the
assembled
nation, acting as a jury, to decide by ballot the question of life or
death.
Before
the Grand
Tribunal.—The decree
PAGE 908
of
the chiefs was set
aside, the accused brought before the grand tribunal, and, after a full
investigation of the case, the question, “Shall the prisoner
suffer death or be
permitted to live?” was decided by a vote of all persons
entitled to vote (all
male persons over twenty-one years of age).
The vote resulted in an overwhelming majority in favor of
death. The prisoner
was thereupon sentenced to be
shot to death, and the third Friday thereafter selected as the day. The place of execution was
to be the Sandusky
bottoms, adjoining the village of Upper Sandusky.
The
Indian Jail.—It was early in the
morning of the Friday designated for the execution that I set off on
horseback
to make a journey of twenty miles to witness the proceedings. I arrived at the village
about nine in the
morning, and found a considerable number of both whites and Indians of
both
sexes already in the village. The
prisoner was confined in the jail, which was a hewed log structure
standing
upon a high bluff a short distance northeast from the council-house,
which
stood on a lot used as an Indian graveyard, and enclosed by a rude
fence. Evidences of
that graveyard may yet be
seen. The jail
building was about 14x18
feet and
THE
INDIAN JAIL.
two stories high, standing with the ends pointing north and south, and overlooking the Sandusky bottoms to the south and east. The lower story consisted of one room about eight feet high, supplied with one small window in the south end, from which a fair view of the bottoms could be had. The entrance was near the northwest corner; the outer door was a thick, heavy plank batten, and the inner door an iron grated one. These doors were so arranged that the outer one could be opened, and afford an opportunity for outside persons to converse with the prisoner, while the inner grated door, being securely fastened, prevented any escape.
The lower floor, as indeed the upper one, was made of
hewed logs about eight or ten inches thick.
The upper room was of the same
dimensions as the lower, with a
window in the south end and an entrance at the north end, provided with
two
doors, situated and arranged as in the room below.
The roof projected over the north end some
six or eight feet, thus affording a kind of porch.
The upper room was reached by an outside
stairway, which commenced at the northwest corner and extended up to
the
platform at the door to the upper apartment.
This building was erected soon after the establishment of
the government
agency, and stood as a pioneer relic until a few years ago, when the
vandal
hands of progress demolished it, and nothing now remains to mark the
place
where it stood.
The
Executive Council.—Upon
my arrival I was informed that the prisoner could be
seen at the jail, and that the execution would not take place until
afternoon,
as the executive council was then in session in the council-house,
probably
arranging the details of procedure.
It was also rumored that an effort
on the part
of friends of the prisoner was being made to have the sentence
suspended and
the prisoner turned over to the State authorities to be tried by the
laws of
the State, and that the question was being considered by the council. However, preparations for
the execution were
going on; the grave was being dug by a party of Indians. The site of the grave was
in the Sandusky
bottom,
PAGE 909
about forty-six rods west
from the river and
at a point about thirty yards north from the present embankment of the
P. Ft.
W. & C. R. R., which was also where the execution was to take
place.
A Talk With
the Prisoner.—I
visited the hail for the purpose of seeing the prisoner and if
possible, to have a talk with
him. I found, upon
arriving at the jail,
quite a number of visitors, actuated by the same motive, already there. The outer door was open,
and an old negro
interpreter named Jonathan POINTER was seated by the
door ready to give any information in his power, or to ask the prisoner
any
questions desired and interpret the answer.
This old negro
was taken captive by the Indians
when a child, had grown to manhood and to old age (he was then about
sixty year
old) among them. He
had learned to speak
their dialect, as also the English language, and was the principal
interpreter
for the nation.
The
prisoner was a
stout, muscular young man, apparently about twenty-two years old, brave
and
sullen as a lion. I
conversed with him
some by means of the interpreter Jonathan.
He had but little to say, answering my questions in the
shortest manner
possible. He was
very uneasy,
continually pacing around his prison, frequently stopping for a moment
at the
little window to gaze away in the direction of his grave-diggers, who
were
plainly visible at their work. After
standing and gazing thus for a few moments he would turn suddenly away,
and
resume his uneasy walking around his prison like a hyena in his cage.
Preparing
for the Execution.—The
chiefs of the nation were closely shut in the
council-house from early morn until late in the afternoon, when, having
arranged the execution, which was to be conducted in true Indian
military
style, came out and gave orders to proceed with the execution. The executioners were six
in number, secretly
selected, three from the Christian and three from the heathen party. They were each at the
proper time to be
furnished with a loaded rifle, five of which were to contain powder and
ball,
and on to contain only powder. None
of
these were to know which had the rifle with the blank charge.
As before stated the execution was
to take place at the grave. Accordingly,
about 4 p.m., the
spectators were arranged in two parallel lines,
about fifteen yards apart, extending from the grave northward to a
point about
twenty rods from the grave, at which point the executioners were to be
stationed. The
Indian spectators were
upon the west side of the line, while the whites occupied the east side. There were many more
whites than Indians,
consequently a better chance of witnessing the
proceeding was enjoyed by those on the Indian side.
It was my fortune to occupy a position among
the Indians, within a few feet of the grave.
The
Prisoner Brought Forth.—Orders
were given to bring the prisoner to the place of execution, and four
braves,
with rope in hand, approached the jail, two of whom entered and bound
the
prisoner securely by passing the rope twice around his body over his
arms,
which were securely fastened to his sides.
He was now directed to pass out, each guard holding
opposite ends of the
rope. Once out of
the prison the march
to the place of execution commenced, the prisoner marching between the
guards,
two on either side, holding firmly the rope that bound him.
The route taken was along an old
trail past the graveyard and
council-house before spoken of, down to the river bottom at the
southeast part
of the village to the grave—a distance of about a mile. I accompanied this march
and watched the
prisoner closely, who marched the whole distance without a falter, and
apparently as firm and steady as though nothing unusual was in waiting. Soon after the arrival of
the prisoner, and
while he was standing at the foot of his grave, Chief William WALKER,
one of
the principal men of the nation, a good scholar and grand orator,
advanced
along the open space between the two lines of spectators to a point
about
twenty feet from the prisoner, and directly fronting him, proceeded in
a loud
and clear voice to read the death warrant.
This was done first in the Wyandot dialect, and then in
the English
language. This
document was a model one,
couched in the finest language, and clear and pointed in every detail;
one that
would do honor to the most learned judiciary of any civilized nation. It recited the
circumstances under which the
crime had been committed, the details of the trial, how the prisoner
had been
tried by two tribunals, and had been found guilty by the highest one
known to
the nation, and sentenced to suffer death.
Stoicism of
the Prisoner.—The
most perfect silence prevailed among the entire audience
during the reading. The
prisoner,
standing erect and gazing sway into space, seemed perfectly unconcerned
about
what was passing. During
the time these
proceedings were taking place, his coffin, a rude box, was brought and
placed
beside his grave. He
simply turned his
head and took a look at it for a moment, and then, without apparently
any
emotion, resumed his vacant stare into space.
He did not utter a word or make a noise of any kind during
this whole
performance. After
concluding the
reading of the death warrant he was asked by Chief WALKER if he had
anything to
say. He simply
shook his head, at which
WALKER, moving away, gave a signal to the guards.
The Death.—One
of the guards now advanced and requested the prisoner to kneel at the
foot of his
grave, which he did without any emotion.
The guard then bound a handkerchief over his eyes. The prisoner, after
kneeling, raised his
head, and, holding himself erect, remained motionless as a statue. The executioners had
previously been secreted
behind a cluster of willows standing a few rods east from the line of
spectators; and as soon as the prisoner had been blindfolded they
emerged
stealthily in single file, and,
PAGE 910
marching directly to the head of the open space between the lines of spectators, took their position, when on officer, detailed for the purpose, advanced and handed each man his rifle, and stepping aside, another officer stepped to the front and to the east, with rod in hand, and raised it up, at which the executioners raised their rifles to take aim; the officer dropped his rod, and the six rifles were fired simultaneously—not a word was spoken.
Upon the report of the rifles the
prisoner instantly fell forward
and to the right, and did not make a single motion or utter a sound. Dr. MASON, a physician at
the agency, stepped
forward, and after a short examination pronounced him dead. The body was now put into
the coffin and the
lid nailed on, and the whole was lowered into the grave and covered. Thus
ended the last Indian
execution among the Wyandots at Upper Sandusky.
This
tribe left their reservation about three years thereafter,
and settled in the then Territory of Kansas.
Intemperance was the great curse of
the Indians, and one often reads
the expression of “tying up an Indian” when wild
and dangerous from
intoxication. This
means tying his
elbows together behind his back and his ankles together, and then
laying him on
the ground until he becomes sober.
Charles
DICKENS at Upper Sandusky.
In
1842, four years before my own visit to Upper Sandusky, Charles DICKENS
passed
through the place, tarrying over night at a log-tavern.
He had come in a stage coach from Columbus,
and was en route to Sandusky City,
where he took a steamer for Buffalo.
In
his “American Notes,” after describing the
roughness of the travelling by stage
coach, the painful experience of jolting over corduroy roads, and
through
forests, bogs and swamps, the team forcing its way cork-screw fashion,
says:
At
Length, between ten
and eleven o’clock at night, a few feeble lights appeared in
the distance, and
Upper Sandusky, an Indian village, where we were to stay till morning,
lay
before us. They
were gone to bed at the
log-inn, which was the only house of entertainment in the place, but
soon
answered our knocking, and got some tea for us in a sort of kitchen or
common
room, tapestried with old newspapers pasted against the wall. The bedchamber to which my
wife and I were
shown was a large, low, ghostly room, with a quantity of withered
branches on
the hearth, and two doors without any fastening, opposite to each other
both
opening on the black night and wild country, and so contrived that one
of them
always blew the other open; a novelty in domestic architecture which I
do not
remember to have seen before, and which I was somewhat disconcerted to
have
forced on my attention after getting into bed, as I had a considerable
sum in
gold for our travelling expenses in my dressing-case.
Some of the luggage, however, piled against
the panels soon settled this difficulty, and my sleep would not have
been very
much affected that night, I believe, though it had failed to do so.
My Boston friend climbed up to bed
somewhere in the roof, where
another guest was already snoring hugely.
But being bitten beyond his power of endurance he turned
out again, and
fled for shelter to the coach, which was airing itself in front of the
house. This was not
a very politic step
as it turned out, for the pigs seeing him, and looking upon the coach
as a kind
of pie with some manner of meat inside, grunted round it so hideously
that he
was afraid to come out again, and lay there shivering till morning. Nor was it possible to
warm him, when he did
come out, by means of a glass of brandy; for in Indian villages the
legislature, with a very good and wise intention, forbids the sale of
spirits
by tavern-keepers. The
precaution,
however, is quite inefficacious, for the Indian never fails to procure
liquor
of a worse kind at a dearer price from travelling peddlers.
It is a settlement of Wyandot
Indians who inhabit this place. Among
the company was a mild old gentleman
(Col. John JOHNSTON), who had been for many years employed by the
United States
government in conducting negotiations with the Indians, and who had
just
concluded a treaty with these people by which they bound themselves, in
consideration of a certain annual sum, to remove next year to some land
provided for them west of the Mississippi and a little way beyond St.
Louis. He gave me a
moving account of
their strong attachment to the familiar scenes of their infancy, and in
particular to the burial places of their kindred, and of their great
reluctance
to leave them.
He had witnessed many such removals,
and always with pain, though he
knew that they departed for their own good.
The question whether this tribe should go or stay had been
discussed
among them a day or two before in a hut erected for the purpose, the
logs of
which still lay upon the ground before the inn.
When the speaking was done the ayes and noes were ranged
on opposite
sides, and every male adult voted in his turn.
The moment the result was known the minority (a large one)
cheerfully
yielded to the rest, and withdrew all kind of opposition.
We met some of these poor Indians
afterward
riding on shaggy ponies. They
were so
like the meaner sort of gypsies that if I could have seen any of them
in
England I should have concluded, as a matter of course, that they
belonged to
that wandering and restless people.
PAGE 911
Carey is ten miles
northwest of Upper Sandusky,
on the I.B. & W., C. H. V. & T. and C. & W.
Railroads. It
was founded in 1844 by McDonald CAREY and
D. STROW, who are yet heavy real estate owners.
City Officer, 1888: J.
H. RHODES,
mayor; E. G. LAUGHLIN,
clerk; J. B. CONRAD, treasurer; Charles BUCKLAND, Marshall; Albert
HART, street
commissioner. Newspapers: Wyandot
County Times, Independent, W. N. FISHER, editor and publisher. Churches:
1 Catholic, 1 United Brethren,
1 Methodist, 1
Lutheran, and 1 Evangelical. Bank:
People’s, D. STRAW, president; D. H. STRAW, cashier. Population,
in 1890, 1,605. School census, 1888, 436;
R. H. MORRISON, school superintendent.
Capital invested in manufacturing establishments, $83,500. Value
of annual product,
$270,500.—Ohio Labor Statistics, 1888.
Carey
is a flourishing little town, is lighted and warmed by gas. It is in a rich
agricultural country in a gas
and oil producing region.
Nevada
is eight miles east of Upper
Sandusky, on the P. Ft. W. & C. R. R.
Newspaper: Enterprise, Independent, WILCOX &
HOLMES, editors and
publishers. Bank: Nevada Deposit, William L.
BLAIR, president;
J. A. WILLIAMS, assistant cashier.
Population in 1880, 1,036.
School census, 1888, 279;
George ROSSITER, school
superintendent.
Sycamore
is eleven miles northeast of
Upper Sandusky, on the O. C. R. R.
Newspaper: Observer,
Republican, F. LADD, editor and publisher.
School census, 1888, 205;
H. P. TRACEY, school
superintendent.
Marseilles
is
twelve miles southwest of Upper
Sandusky, on the O. C. R. R. Population in 1880, 273.
Kirby
is
eight miles west of Upper Sandusky, on
the P. Ft. W. & C. R. R. Population in 1880, 294.