"Judge Bazil Harrison, the pioneer settler of Kalamazoo county, died at the residence of his son, John S. Harrison, on Prairie Ronde, Aug. 30, 1874, at the advanced age of 103 years. The following sketch of the life of the deceased was prepared at the time of his death, by Mr. J. H. Stone, the former editor of the Kalamazoo Telegraph.
 

Judge Harrison came of not only hardy stock, but patriotic ancestry. His paternal grandfather, William Harrison, was a native of Scotland, and his grandmother, of Welsh birth. These grandparents immigrated to Virginia, and settled either in Berkeley or Charles City county, early in the last century. His father's name was also William Harrison, and he was born in Berkeley, Virginia, about 1732. William Harrison, Jr., was twice married, and by his two wives was the father of 23 children,our centenarian being a son of the second wife, whose name was Worlender Davis. His father married her in Maryland about the same time his younger brother, Benjamin Harrison (father of President Harrison and uncle of the judge), married her mother, Clara Davis, a widow. These two brothers seem to have been very unlike in tastes and character. Benjamin Harrison, as is well known, was one of the prominent men of the revolution, a man of great intellectual power and brilliant career. He entered public life at 24, as a member of the Virginia house of Burgesses, of which he soon became one of the leaders. He participated in the proceedings of the first congress, and was a signer of the Declaration, and during the first two years of the war served with distinction as chairman of the board of war. He was an intimate friend of Washington, and was three times elected governor of Virginia. William Harrison, the father of the subject of our sketch, was not lacking in natural capacity and not behind his younger brother in patriotism. But he seems to have been one of those characters, so frequently found in great families, who are never successful. He was, so far as we are able to learn, of good habits and industrious, but as his grandson (who remembers him well) said to the writer, "he never got ahead. He farmed it all his life, yet never owned a farm." If, however, he did not render so great services to his country as his illustrious brother, he did not live in vain and was not lacking in patriotic endeavor. Of his twenty-three children sixteen attained their majority and Judge Harrison has several times described to us with pride and enthusiasm the departure of six of his older brothers for Washington's army. It must have been in the year of 1778, perhaps just after Clinton's defeat at Monmouth had kindled the hopes of patriots, or the inhuman massacre, by Butler's savages, at Wyoming, had aroused their indignation and fears and the father's address to his sons was worthy of a sire of Rome or Sparta. "Boys," said he to his six stalwart grown sons, "I cannot go into the army myself,--I am too old, and must remain to care for mother and the younger children. But I will look after the farm and raise the corn while you are gone. We must not let the British get a foothold in this country. We had better all die than do that. Go and fight for your country and follow where Washington leads, and may God bless and keep you." As the old Judge last summer described to us this scene, there was something of youthful fire in his half dimmed eyes, and his voice strengthened as he related this event of nearly a hundred years ago. It evidently made an impression on his youthful mind never to be effaced. "Oh yes, I remember well," said he, "we all helped them to put on their guns and swords, and I saw them march away together, just at daylight, to fight under Washington." And then he related some of their narrow escapes and spoke of wounds they had received; how "Kinzie had a bullet in his neck" which he would never have extracted, but carried with him to his grave this souvenir of battle.
 

The Judge's father had learned to love honor Washington for he had been with him in Braddock's expedition, and often told his children the story of that awful day, and the charmed life that the young Virginian colonel, who was afterwards to be so great in history, seemed to wear.
 

Just when and where the Judge's parents were married we have been unable to definitely fix. They were, we think, however, married in Frederick county, Maryland, in about 1750, for men and women married young in those days. Our centenarian was born in the county named, 30 miles from Baltimore. As to the year of his birth, there is, and has been for quite a number of years, some dispute in the family. The old family record was destroyed about thirty five years ago, and the children do not agree as to the date. The oldest son, William Harrison, who lives in Climax, contends that it was in 1770, and assures us that he knows he is right, for he had made a transcript of the old Bible record only a few weeks before that was destroyed at the burning of his sister's house, 30 years ago, and this copy he exhibited to us. He is just 20 years, lacking two months, younger than his father, and is positive of the accuracy of his statement, which he says his mother corroborated just before her death. Judge Harrison himself says he was born in 1771, and that is the year all his children, except the oldest, agree upon. We have made considerable effort to gather evidence on this point, and in the course of our search have talked with the Judge's neighbors and fellow pioneers. Several of these latter claim that the Judge stated to them while the old record was in existence that he was born in 1772. Many of our readers at first thought may consider it strange that there should be any dispute on a simple question of age, but in the course of our search on this subject not less than ten similar cases have been related to us, and that such disagreements are quite common in old families and among even middle aged people, anyone by a little attention to the subject will discover. It is only fair, when there is such disagreement, to be governed by the preponderance of family testimony, and that fixes the date of the Judge's birth as March 15, 1771.
 

The names of his brothers and sisters who grew up were as follows: William, Josiah, Kinzie, Grovier, Samuel, James, Zepheniah, Sarah, Phœbe and Amelia, half brothers and sisters, children of his father by his first wife, and Elisha, Diana, Shadrack, Ephraim and Joseph, own brothers and sisters. All of them except the three last named were older than Bazil, who was the third child by the second wife. None of these brothers and sisters are now living, nor are we able to give accurately the dates when they died. The father lived to a good old age, and died in western Pennsylvania about 1812.
 

The family lived near Fredericksburg until our hero was about nine years old, when his father thought to better his condition by removing to Virginia, and the family accordingly crossed the Potomac and settled on a farm near Winchester, in that part of Frederick County, which is now known as Hampshire County.
 

They did not long remain there, but after five years' residence, crossed into Pennsylvania, settling near Greencastle, Franklin County, five or six miles from the Maryland line. The older children had by this time become somewhat scattered, several being married and engaged in farming in Virginia and Maryland. The family consisted of the father and mother and the younger children. Bazil was 14 years old. He helped his father on the rented farm for a short time, and then went to work in a distillery, a business which he followed as long as he lived in Pennsylvania. There are few incidents of his early life that we are able to obtain. He was a steady, hard working lad, energetic and thorough. He received but little education, three months in the common school forming about all of his educational curriculum. He learned to read and write however, and took quite as much interest in books as those around him. Like most boys he early fell in love, the object of his adoring passion being Martha Stillwell, the daughter of a farmer living near his father. The attachment was reciprocated, and the young couple exchanged words of love and eternal fidelity during their happy courtship. He was nearly 19 and she three years his junior. Bazil, whose love gave him confidence, boldly asked consent of Martha's parents to their marriage. Her father liked his frank and kindly ways and favored the match, but dame Stillwell had higher aspirations for her daughter. She wished her to wed the possessor of broad acres and not a penniless young man. Besides, how could she spare her daughter yet? No, she would not give her consent. Grieved were the lovers at this decision, but by no means obedient to the behest of the stern mother. In clandestine interviews they renewed their pledges of affection, and encouraged by Martha's father, planned an elopement. Indeed, we suspect Mr. Stillwell was the chief conspirator, and most efficient aid did he render. The day was set, but the suspicious mother kept close watch on her daughter. How to arrange her wedding outfit without the mother's knowledge puzzled the three conspirators.
 

The simple trousseau was mostly made by stealth, in Martha's own room at night, she receiving some little assistance from a sister also in the secret, but she happened to be entirely out of shoes, for it was in March, and young ladies then were not ashamed to be seen in their bare feet while in the house, and very crude brogans when the weather made covering for the feet necessary. But the etiquette of Greencastle, in 1790, did not permit a bride to appear shoeless and slipperless at her wedding. Ready made shoes were unknown in the town, and the needed articles must be made to measure. Several plans failed, and her father was compelled to move cautiously, in view of the fact that Dame Stillwell was somewhat suspicious. The matter was delayed for a favorable opportunity, until the day before the wedding, when further procrastination being out of the question, the father invented a ruse to accomplish the object. In the forenoon of the last day of grace, he came into the weaving room where mother and daughters were at work at the loom, and shortly began to joke Martha on the size of her feet. Picking up a shingle (carefully placed within reach beforehand for the purpose) he drew a diagram of measurement of her pedal extremities, the dimensions of which he laughed immoderately about with his wife, to the apparent great discomfiture of his daughter; and then carelessly threw the shingle out of the window. Fifteen minutes after, that shingle measure was in shoemaker Wilkins' shop and that worthy cobbler worked half the night to finish the pumps in which the runaway bride was to stand at her wedding on the morrow. The next day at dinner time Martha slipped away, and, with her father for a witness, she and Bazil were made one by the village justice. The out witted mother of course was indignant at first but soon relented, and thus March 17, 1790, was begun the matrimonial journey of Bazil Harrison and Martha Stillwell, and for nearly 70 years did the two live together as man and wife, until June 7, 1857, the union was broken by her death.
 

Bazil and his wife remained in Franklin county for three or four years when they moved across the Alleghanies into Washington county, where they lived until 1810, and during that time nine children were born unto them, viz. William, Shadrack, Sally, Nathan, Cynthia, Ephraim, Worlender, Martha, and two others who died young.

It was in Franklin county that Bazil cast his first vote. In 1792 he voted for Washington for his second term, and he has voted at every presidential election since then, except in 1828 and 1872, in which latter year he was too ill to get to the polls, though he was especially desirous as he said, to vote "once more for Grant." In 1810 with his family he removed to Kentucky, just opposite Cincinnati, at which latter place he stopped to visit his cousin, Gen. W. H. Harrison. He was engaged in distilling in that region for about two years. After Gen. W. H. Harrison had gained his battle over Tecumseh at Tippecanoe, and hostilities broke out with England, he engaged his cousin Bazil to work his Millbrook farm, just below Cincinnati, when he assumed command of the northwest frontier. Our hero was a man that disliked strife, though he did not lack courage. He was not in the war of 1812, but sent a substitute, in the person of his younger brother Ephraim. During the war he lived on his cousin's farm, "working it on shares," and shortly after peace was declared he bought a farm of 300 acres twelve miles east of Springfield. His oldest son, William, bought and partly paid for a farm near his father's, and both remained there for ten or twelve years.
 

It was at this time, subsequent to the war, that there was so much excitement about titles to real estate all through Ohio, growing out of military claims. Mr. Harrison was prospering finely, and settled during his occupancy no less than three military claims, on his thus dearly bought farm, but when a fourth one was preferred he lost his patience and declared he would not buy it up, but would "buy a farm of Uncle Sam first." The holders of the claim offered comparatively easy terms, charging only & dollar; 600 or 700, which, of course, was nothing like the value of the farm. But Mr. Harrison could not accept the terms offered, and rather than pay for his farm the fifth time, resolved to abandon it entirely, and go to Michigan, from which territory his son Elias had returned the year before. Elias had lived one season just over the Michigan line from La Grange Co., Ind., but had returned to Ohio with glowing accounts of the fertile prairies that skirted the southern border of the state. At the time Mr. Harrison decided to "go west" (northwest, to speak accurately), Cynthia, the oldest living daughter, married to Henry Whipple, was living on a farm near Jefferson, Champaign county, and Ephraim was carrying on a blacksmith shop near his father's place. The younger children were living at home. Once decided to start for a new home that he might get settled there before winter, he hurriedly sold off most of his stock and all of his household goods that he could not carry with him.
 

The territory of Michigan at that time was an almost unknown country. Yet some bold and adventurous men had penetrated its recesses and brought back to their homes in the east, wonderful stories of its splendid timber, its magnificent prairies, its park-like openings, its rivers, lakes and streams, the rank growth of vegetation here, and the promise it gave of reward and wealth to the farmer and man of enterprise. These recitals had the effect to make the territory much talked about and the subject of many schemes of settlement.
 

All eyes were turned to Michigan. To Mr. Harrison with his large family and in his mood of mind it was just the place for him. And he had no difficulty in securing company for his migratory journey. His oldest son William was anxious to go, but could not get away until the next year. Ephraim, the blacksmith, was ready with little preparation. Judge's son-in-law, Whipple, with his wife, and three children, responded to the invitation, and announced their readiness to leave their rented farm. Abraham and Ephraim Davidson, neighbors, also volunteered, and the party rendezvoused at the Judge's farm. We can not fix the exact date of their starting, but think it was about the 20th of September. The party numbered 21 persons, as follows: Bazil Harrison and Martha Harrison, his wife; Henry Whipple and his wife Cynthia Harrison Whipple, and two children; Ephraim Harrison, wife and three children; Abraham Davidson, wife and one child; Ephraim Davidson, and the following unmarried children of Mr. Harrison; Elias S., Worlender, Bazil, jr., Martha, John S., and Almira. As they set out from the deserted home-stead, with their eyes turned toward a new and unsettled country where they were to seek a new home, they formed quite an emigrant train. First, no doubt, came the old fashioned, great Pennsylvania wagon. That was none of your modern vehicles, but was so deep that a man standing on its floor could scarcely see over its side. It was long and high and broad, and it was very capacious. The box was boat-shaped--top, bottom and sides, though not at the ends generally painted blue, and the outside furnished with panels made of slats or moulding. The wheels, tires, axles, &c., were all made on the same scale of size and strength. To this conveyance was hitched two spans of horses. The harness used was quite another thing from those we see now--they were in keeping with the style of the wagons--an immense amount of leathern broad bands, no collars, and hames plain as a pike staff and as strong. Then came four other "wide track Ohio wagons," all but one drawn by two horses, the exception being preceded by a yoke of sturdy oxen. One of the four "Ohio wagons" with the horses that drew it belonged to Whipple, one to Abe Davidson, one to Ephraim Harrison, and the other, as well as the "Pennsylvania vehicle," to the patriarch of the party. There was also a light single horse wagon in which rode Mrs. Harrison and her daughters. Then there were three cows, fifty head of sheep, and nearly as many hogs.
 

Their good byes said to their neighbors and friends the night before, except the few who rose before the sun to say the last farewell and God speed,--some of the party with full hearts and tear dimmed eyes, and the little children full of wonderment at the vastness of the preparations, early on that September morning the little colony bade adieu to the old homestead, and the cavalcade moved slowly away to the north, under the leadership of Judge Harrison, the hale and hearty commander of 57, the younger men acting as aids in executing his commands. Slowly they moved forward, for the younger boys must herd the sheep and drive the swine that needed urging to pass on without stopping to wallow in the mud puddles by the roadside--puddles made large by the early fall rains and very inviting to eyes of the grunting swine, and the youthful masters were helped by faithful dogs to prevent the sheep and swine from straying from the track. As the cortege wound around the hill and into the woods the little children and their mothers leaned back and strained their eyes to catch the last look at the old home they were leaving behind forever.
 

Thus they set out upon their long and fatiguing journey, not knowing where it was to end, but hoping that they would find at its terminus a home, that, though it might be in a new, strange country, would be free from the menaces of claim holders, and where they would enjoy the full reward of their labor and toil. The course of the journey was first through Urbana, even then a brisk and busy town, thence west to Piqua, and north along the bank of the Miami to Sidney, where they left the river and continued north to St. Mary's. Onward they pushed through Auglaize and Van Wert counties, crossing the state line into Indiana a little south of where Dixon now is. Though the roads in Ohio were comparatively good, they were obliged to move forward by short day's journeys, for long marches could not be made, driving the sheep and swine in advance, and the first days of October were upon them before they reached Fort Wayne. Their last two or three days' journey had given them a foretaste of what was before them. As they left behind them the fertile fields of Ohio, in which could be seen from the road the golden ripened corn, the country was newer and the homes were less frequent. After the Indiana border was crossed there were no cornfields in sight until the out-skirts of Fort Wayne were reached, and occasionally Indians gave them salutations on the road.
 

A day's halt only was made at Fort Wayne to gather some information concerning the new country to which they were bound. Fort Wayne was then upon the border of settlement and civilization. The course of our pioneers thence was northwest, and they had scarcely any road but Indian trails.
 

It would be an interesting picture to gaze upon now, in the light of modern times, that pioneer colony wending their way through the forests primeval--the almost trackless wilderness. We can see them in our mind's eye as they left the last haunts of civilization, halting a moment before plunging into the unknown wasts of wilderness, the end of which was unknown, and the shadows of the dark and mysterious land already thrilled them with vague forebodings. With a fervent prayer to the ever protecting Father, and with something of that feeling which Cortez felt when he burned his ships on the coasts of the New World, determined to conquer or perish, this little band strike into a trail that leads them into woods without roads, for a destination for which they as yet had no fixed idea. Very slowly they pursued their way, meeting with obstacles and obstructions continually; sometimes following a stream for hours before a safe crossing could be found; often stopping to remove great trees they could not go round, and almost numberless difficulties which we have not space here to detail. In one instance it took them seven days to go around a swamp that lay in their path, and sometimes when they halted for the night they could look back and see the smoke rising from the embers of the camp fire they had left in the morning. At night a watch fire was built and then the wolves and other wild beasts were kept away from the stock, closely guarded, though all through the night the howls and screams of the denizens of the forest were heard. But there were compensations for these drawbacks. Every step forward was a new revelation, and the journey continual sensation of wonder and delight. How gorgeous were the woods in those autumn days, as our party wended their way. New combinations of colors every day, new trees, new forms of vegetation, new varieties of country, from the hilly slope deeply wooded, heavy bottom lands along pearly winding streams, vast meadows, splendid openings looking like carefully tended parks; prairies like seas stretching in airy undulations far away, or lakes like silver mirrors bordered with emerald. The woods were full of wild fruits of various kinds, game abounded, the air was crisp and dry, and the sight and song of birds made the darkest recesses merry.
 

Through Allen and Noble counties they made their way, across the rich alluvial "plains of Goshen," and over the beautiful Elkhart prairie to the border line of Michigan territory. On their way the party had found only here and there a rude cabin and an occasional trader's house. There were on Elkhart prairie scarcely any settlers. The beautiful land was especially attractive to several of the party, and some were inclined strongly to stop there and go no further, looking upon this as the promised land, Mr. Whipple especially urging that the colony ought to locate there. But Indiana had been a state a dozen years, and Mr. Harrison adventurously desired to push on and make his home in the new territory, and so they journeyed on till they arrived at Baldwin's Prairie, just south of the state line. Here they halted; a temporary camp was made; it being decided that scouts should go forward to spy out the land, Mr. Harrison selected Whipple, Abraham Davidson and Elias Harrison to go with him, the latter having acquired some acquaintance with the Indian tongue. This party was gone a week, and soon after they set out they learned from the Indians that a great prairie, the largest in the territory, would be found less than forty miles north of the southern territorial line. This was in confirmation of other stories they heard from hunters and traders, and the scouts pushed forward until they reached the southern edge of the prairie, a view of which fully satisfied them of the truthfulness of the descriptions they had heard. Mr. Harrison quickly decided to return and conduct the colony thither.
 

With this idea fully fixed in his mind, Mr. Harrison and his colony broke camp again and set out upon their final march, and after a few days traveling, on the evening of the fifth day of November, 1828, just at dusk, they lighted their camp fires on the southeastern edge of Prairie Ronde, or Wa-we-os-co-tang-scotah, as the Indians call it, meaning the "round fire plain," whence comes the French "Prairie Ronde."

As the party retired to rest that night they felt that the end of their journey had been reached. Before them was the greatest an loveliest prairie they had ever, seen, and Mr. Harrison and those with him were satisfied to look no further. For perhaps the eye of man has rarely rested on a more beautiful natural landscape than was presented by Prairie Ronde--
 

"Before the white man marred it with his plow."
 

Ascending slightly from the circumference to the center, yet so as to seem full rather than elevated; surrounded with a noble forest whose sharp-cut and perfect line was nowhere so distant as to be indistinct, yet so remote that the beams of the rising and setting sun seemed to blend in a mist of gold and purple, the whole plain was covered from spring to autumn with a gorgeous array of flowers, whose differing colors followed each other in due succession; at last faded and gone in the autumn winds--
 

"The tall, rank spike grass waved its bristly head."
 

It was such a scene of unrivalled beauty that opened to the view of the first white settler of Prairie Ronde.
 

The next morning the whole party were up betimes, and while they were breakfasting around the cheerful fire in the clear, crisp air of early day, Sagamaw, the chief of the Pottawattomies, accompanied by ten or a dozen of his braves, all decked in gay costumes, and faces resplendent with paint, came to their camp and made friendly overtures. Sagamaw was a magnificent specimen of the aborigine. His looks, his manners, his fine presence and the evident good will which was apparent to all, inspired confidence in the pale faces, and they freely questioned him as best they could by signs and the few words of Indian language they understood, as to where water could be had, and in regard to such matters as most interested our pioneers at this time. Sagamaw gave them all the information he could convey to them, and the result was that the Indians conducted Mr. Harrison and two others of the party across the prairie to the northwest side, where within the line of woods was a little lake--now known as Harrison's lake. Mr. Harrison needed no further argument to convince him that this was the proper place for him to locate. He quickly returned, and the whole party were that night encamped on the banks of the little lake where, for nearly a half a century, he has lived.
 

Here the party at once made arrangements to live, erected a rude cabin and, before winter set in, were as comfortable as they could be made under the circumstances. The land was divided among the children, and subsequently entered at the land office at Monroe; but all lived together through the first winter. The following spring, Mr. Harrison and his sons plowed land and planted corn and buckwheat, having obtained the seed from White Pigeon, where they also bought some more sheep. This gave them a good start. The second year they were short of seed, for wheat was very high and difficult to obtain, being worth seven dollars per bushel. They had to go to Fort Wayne for it, and for what grain they had ground they had to travel to Tolland's mill at Elkhart, Indiana. But the woods were full of game, the Indians were friendly and no untoward event occurred to discourage the colonists.
 

By this time, too, quite a little addition was made to the settlement. Christopher Bair came to the prairie and settled near the Harrisons in 1829, and Abner Calhoun, Abram J. Shaver, Erastus Guilford, William Duncan, George Brown, John Insley, David Beadle, and others had come the winter before. In 1830 there were some sixty families on the prairie and vicinity, and measures were taken to organize a township government. A township meeting was held December 14, 1830, under a call "to the electors of the township of Brady, in Kalamazoo county," at the house of Abner Calhoun, on Prairie Ronde. At this election Christopher Bair was elected township clerk; Bazil Harrison, Stephen Hoyt and William Bishop, commissioners of highways; Joel Clark, Stephen Hoyt, Abiel Fellows and Abram I. Shaver, school commissioners. In April, the following year, Edwin H. Lothrop was elected supervisor, and H. B. Huston township clerk. Judge Harrison was subsequently chosen a justice of the peace, and was commissioned by Gov. Cass one of the associate judges of the county court, and acted in that capacity till 1834, if we remember rightly.
 

The names of Judge Harrison's seventeen children were, William, Sarah, Nathan, Shadrack, Ephraim, Joseph, Cynthia, Elias S., Worlender, Bazil, Martha, Rachel, Amanda, John S., Almira, and Diana. Besides these sixteen, one child, an infant, died before it received a name. Of these, eight are now living. William, the oldest, now 83, is a farmer in Climax. He is hale and hearty, spry as a boy of 15, thinks nothing of a ten mile walk, and can run a foot race with any of his neighbors and win it. We have never seen so remarkable a case of preserved physical vigor. When the writer called upon him last summer, without the least fatigue on his part, he led us on a half mile tramp, at a pace we could scarcely keep up with. Every tooth in his head is sound, and his eyesight good. He boasts his ability to "down" any of his sons in a "squarehold" wrestle, and they, though men of more than ordinary strength and muscle, admit that his boast is not without foundation. Nathan, well known to the pioneers of this village as the "river ferryman," forty years ago, lives in Bloomfield, Ill., in rather feeble health. Cynthia Harrison Whipple lives in Lake City, state of Minnesota, as does also Worlender Harrison Fellows. Dr. Bazil Harrison lives on Prairie Ronde, on a farm adjoining the old homestead, upon which lives John S., the youngest son, with whom the aged judge made his home. Martha Harrison Bishop lives at Fairwater, Wis., and Mrs. Almira Harrison Crose, the youngest surviving child, lives on Prairie Ronde. Sarah, the first daughter, and second child, died while young, in Pennsylvania, as did Shadrack, the third son. Ephraim died in Minneapolis, Minn., a few years ago. Elias died in Lake City, Minn., and Rachel died very young in Clarke county, Ohio. Amanda and Diana also died in Clarke county.

As above stated, there are eight children living. There are also eighty-one grandchildren. It is impossible for us to tell just how many great-grandchildren are living, for they are scattered all over the west, but there are twelve great-great grandchildren that Mr. J. Harrison's family know of Counting the four generations of children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and great-great-grandchildren, the progeny of Judge Harrison now numbers, as nearly as can be ascertained, 220 persons, all living.
 

Judge Harrison always enjoyed the esteem and confidence of his neighbors, white as well as red. He was frank, open hearted, generous; naturally a peace maker, he became the arbiter in all matters of dispute--and his decisions were always satisfactory. Judge Harrison, from the time the smoke from the hearth of his log cabin ascended to the pure skies, was always ready to "welcome the coming, speed the parting guest." He furnished hospitality to all comers, and shared what he had with the settlers who stood in need. The Indians admired his tall, athletic form, his abundant good nature, his unswerving integrity and fair dealing, and to his neighbors he was a refuge in times of trouble. With his numerous children around him, he was in a measure independent, and enabled to overcome difficulties which others could not so ably cope with. An anecdote is related of him which illustrates the peace loving qualities of Judge Harrison. Christopher Bair and a neighbor got into a quarrel about the breaking down of a wagon which Mr. Bair had borrowed. One of the boxes to an axle was broken somehow, and it was not clear to whom belonged the duty of repairing the loss; a lawsuit and hard feelings were likely to grow out of this matter. When Judge Harrison heard of this, he took a box from an assortment which he brought with him from Ohio, placed it upon the axle, and that settled the difficulty. He has been known to ride all day for the purpose of bringing about an amicable settlement of a difference between neighbors.
 

It has been a matter of general belief for many years that Judge Harrison was the "Bee Hunter" of Cooper's novel, the "Oak Openings," the scene of which, it will be remembered, is laid in Kalamazoo. Since the publication of the work, this has been the accepted theory among the pioneers of the county and Judge Harrison's neighbors. We never heard the fact questioned until last year, when Judge H. G. Wells informed us that Mr. Cooper told him after the appearance of the book, that his character of "Ben Boden, the Bee Hunter," was not founded on Judge Harrison, but on Towner Savage, one of the pioneers of the county, and a bee hunter by avocation. This being so, Mr. Cooper must have made contradictory statements, for Mrs. J. B. Daniels, of this village, is very positive and clear in her recollection that Mr. Cooper repeatedly named Judge Harrison as the original of the character mentioned. Fenimore Cooper, as is well known, had considerable property interests in Kalamazoo county at one time, the township just north of it deriving its name from him. He made several long continued visits to Kalamazoo, along in the "forties," and one, if we mistake not, as late as 1850, the year before his death. Mrs. Daniels was well acquainted with him, and he counted her as one of his favored friends. She met him frequently during his visits and relates to us one occasion in particular upon which Judge Harrison's connection with the story was discussed. This was one day, probably in the summer of 1846, when Mr. Cooper was the guest of Mr. Comstock, and at the time he was writing the book. On that day, Mrs. Daniels tells us, Mr. Cooper spent hours talking with her and others of the guests about Judge Harrison, his family and pioneer history, his relations with the Indians, his bee hunting proclivities, and various other matters connected with the early settlement of Kalamazoo and the country hereabouts. It was known then that he was writing a book, the scene of which was laid here, and he made no concealment of the purpose for which he sought his information, and stated openly the character he proposed to make out of Judge Harrison. Mrs. Daniels had come to Kalamazoo when a little girl, in 1834, and was well acquainted with the Harrisons as well as all of the early settlers. She was one well prepared to give such information as Mr. Cooper sought, and he afterward acknowledged her services in this respect, by presenting her with a copy of the "Oak Openings," and at that time he told her that Judge Harrison was the original of the "Bee Hunter." Mrs. Daniels also informs us that in frequent conversations with the old Judge he has stated to her that he understood that he was the person Cooper had in mind when he created "Buzzing Ben" and also that he had been so informed by Cooper himself. Last year we ourselves questioned Judge Harrison on this point, but his mind was not then clear enough to comprehend the question. We have made a great deal of research to fix the identity of the "Bee Hunter" beyond question, and have talked with scores of old settlers. While we have found but few who claimed to have any direct information on the subject, all of the testimony, except that of Judge Wells, has been to confirm the theory that Bazil Harrison was the original of Mr. Cooper's character. Dozens of well known citizens have related to us an account of a conversation alleged to have taken place between Judge Harrison and Mr. Cooper, at the time of the novelist's last visit to Kalamazoo--the anecdote having been current ever since the incident is said to have occurred. Judge Harrison, so the story runs, having been interviewed by Mr. Cooper, after the introduction, remarked, "So you got me into your book, Mr. Cooper?"
 

"Yes," replied Mr. Cooper; "I had to have some one, judge, and you seemed to be about the right sort of person to make my bee hunter out of."
 

"Well, Mr. Cooper, you are a smart man, or at least they say you are, but you ought to know better than to make a bee light on clover. They are too smart for that; they don't fool away with red clover when there's sweeter flowers easier to get at--"
 

"Oh, I meant white clover," interrupted Mr. Cooper.
 

"Well," responded the judge, "you are a smart man, Mr. Cooper, at any rate they say you are, but you ought to know that there wasn't any white clover here at the time you speak of. White clover don't come till after settlers come."
 

The judge is also represented as tripping up Mr. Cooper on other alleged inaccuracies.
 

It seems curious that such a story should have been started twenty four years ago, and been repeated constantly ever since, if there was no foundation for it. It is well known, too, that Judge Harrison was an inveterate bee hunter. His oldest son tells us that after his father saw a bee, he was never satisfied until he found the honey, and often would leave his work to follow up the bee and secure his store of sweets.
 

Thinking that some of Mr. Cooper's notes might be in existence that would throw light on the subject, we addressed a note to his son, Paul F. Cooper, Esq. an attorney at law in Albany, and he promised to make search. Afterward when in Albany the writer called on Mr. Cooper, who then told us that he had made search and talked with other members of the family but was unable to find or learn anything that would aid us in our search. We are forced to the conclusion, however, that Mr. Cooper must have had Judge Harrison in his mind when he drew the picture of "Buzzing Ben," the bee hunter, though of course his portraiture may have included characteristics found in Towner Savage or other settlers.
 

Mr. Harrison took an active part in politics, and his name is found as a delegate in nearly all of the conventions held for many years. He was an original democrat, of the Jackson school, and had little confidence in the opposing parties until the formation of the republican party under the oaks at Jackson. So strong was his attachment for the democratic party that he could not give it up for the ties of kindred, and in 1840 he did not vote for his cousin for president. His first republican vote was cast in 1860 for Lincoln. There are many who remember his tall, slightly bent form and flowing white beard and his clear eye when he came down from the prairie to the political meetings. During the war he read the papers with great interest, with such assiduity, indeed, that his eyesight was nearly destroyed. He watched the course of the contest with the liveliest interest, and no one rejoiced with greater enthusiasm at the triumph of the government over its bitter enemies.
 

For several years past Judge Harrison has scarcely ventured away from home. His faculties were becoming dimmed by age, and the sands of his life were running low. He, however, has had days of brightness when he talked intelligently with his family and friends who came to visit him. Several times within the past two years has he related to us incidents of his early life, which stood clear in his memory, while later events were clouded.
 

Last year, at the meeting of the pioneers of the county, held at School-craft, he was present and shook hands with many old friends whom he recognized, and talked freely. He said among other things, "I am 102 years old, and, thank God, I have not an enemy in the world!" This statement was true. He never did ill to any one. Just in his dealings and blameless in his life, he has passed from earth leaving no enemies behind. He was, for over seventy years, a consistent member of the Methodist church, and has related to us the story of his conversion. His habits of life were simple, and he enjoyed almost uniform good health. He was, until the later years of his life, of strong physical vigor, and unusual powers of endurance. He was successful as a farmer, and influential among his neighbors.
 

Grand old centenarian, around his long and eventful life how many associations cluster! In the hundred years of his life the grandest scenes in the history of the world have been enacted, the brightest pages of progress have been written, the noblest men have fulfilled their missions and passed away. Far beyond the time allotted to man's life, he has lived to see his children grow to old age, and his children's children, filling useful positions in the world. His days have been full of comfort and enjoyment, his lines have been cast in pleasant places, and peace, like a beautiful halo, settled around the lingering sunset of his life. Patiently, and with full confidence in the sublime promises of Him who created worlds and time and man, he awaited the welcome summons for this mortal to put on immortality, to renew his youth in the fountains of eternal life, and at last passed away.
 

"Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
 

About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams."
 

What changes have taken place since his birth--March 15, 1771! Our own republic was not born, American independence was scarcely dreamed of. The Boston massacre had aroused public excitement, it is true, but no general conflict of arms between the colonies and the mother country was deemed probable. It was thirty months before the tea was "put to steep" in Boston Harbor, and more than five years before Jefferson reported the immortal Declaration to the Continental congress in Independence Hall. Washington, not yet forty years of age, was tilling his farm at Mt. Vernon, little imagining the great future before him. In 1771, Franklin was yet hale and hearty at 65; John Adams was 36, and John Quincy a boy of four; Jefferson was only 28; Madison was 20; Hamilton 14 and Burr 15; Monroe was 13 and Jackson had been born on the same day of the same month four years before. Every other president was his junior, as was Henry Clay by six years and Webster by eleven. In England, George III, aged 33, was on the throne in the eleventh year of his 60 years reign, with Lord North as prime minister. The first earl of Chatham was yet alive, and his son, the younger Pitt, a boy of 12, was fitting for Cambridge. Burke at 41 was in the zenith of his greatness, and Warren Hastings was in India, though not as governor general till three years later. Grattan was only 21 and not yet admitted to the bar; Charles Fox, though only 22, was in parliament, and had been for three years; Walpole had been out of parliament only three years, and Wilberforce, only 12 years of age, did not enter the House of Commons until nine years later. Nelson, who was killed thirty four years later at Trafalgar, was only 13 and serving as a midshipman on the Raisonnable; Arthur Wellesley, afterwards Duke of Wellington, an infant of less than two years, was doubtless creeping about Dungan Castle, and for years afterward a very stupid child, history says, giving no promise of future greatness but regarded as the dunce of the family. Robert Burns, a dozen years of age, was using his leisure time to read Shakespeare and Pope, but had yet to make his own first attempt at verse. Wordsworth was scarce a year old; Walter Scott was not born until five months later, and our centenarian was 17 years old when Byron first saw the light of day. Sterne had been dead only three years and Akenside one. Goldsmith, Hume, Samuel Johnson, Gibbon and Cowper were all living, and Coleridge, Charles Lamb and Southey all yet to be born Watt had received his first patent for a steam engine only two years before, and his first engines on a large scale were erected four years later. The steamboat was not tried as an experiment until thirty years later, and Fulton's Clermont did not float on the Hudson until 1807. Our centenarian was comparatively an old man (sixty seven) when the first steamer crossed the Atlantic.
 

March 15, 1771, in France, Louis XV., the well-beloved, was still on the throne, and Napoleon an infant in his mother's arms at Ajaccio. Louis XVI. was only 17 years old, and the unfortunate Marie Antoinette whom he had married the year before was a year his junior. Lafayette, 14 years of age, was in college at Paris, Voltaire, Rousseau and D'Alambert were yet alive, and Madame de Stael, a little girl of six years. Murat was born March 25, 1771, and Ney only two years before. Frederick the Great was King of Prussia then, and for 15 years later; Maria Theresa Empress of Austria, Charles III. King of Spain, and Clerment XIV. Pope of Rome."
 

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