CLERMONT COUNTY OHIO - HISTORY: CLERMONT COUNTY [Part 5] (published 1898)
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HISTORICAL COLLECTION OF OHIO, By Henry Howe, LL.D., 1898

        WILLIAMSBURG has 1 Presbyterian and 1 Methodist church. Chair
factory of S.D. Mount, 23 hands; C.H. Boulware & Bro., chair factory, 20;
Snell & Williams, planing-mill, 12. Pork-packing, tobacco preparing, and
tanning are carried on here. Population in 1840, 385; in 1880, 795.
        Williamsburg, as previously mentioned, was laid out in 1795-96 by
Gen. William Lytle and his brother, and was originally called Lytlestown.
His life was one of much incident. He was the grandfather of Gen. Robert T.
Lytle, the poet-soldier, killed at the battle of Chickamauga. The following
facts respecting him are from Cists Advertiser:
        GEN. WILLIAM LYTLE was born in Cumberland, Pa., and in 1779 his
family emigrated to Kentucky. Previous to the settlement of Ohio young
Lytle was in several desperate engagements with the Indians, where his
cool, heroic bravery won general admiration. Before the treaty of
Greenville, while making surveys in the Virginia military district in Ohio,
he was exposed to incessant dangers, suffered great privations, and was
frequently attacked by the Indians. This business he followed for the
greater portion of his life. In the war of 1812 he was appointed
major-general of Ohio militia, and in 1829 surveyor-general of the public
lands of Ohio, Indiana, and Michigan. In 1810 Gen. Lytle removed from
Williamsburg to Cincinnati, where he died in 1831. As a citizen he was
distinguished for public spirit and benevolence, and in his personal
appearance and character strikingly resembled President Jackson. Beside the
facts given under the head of Logan county, we have space for but a single
anecdote, exhibiting his Spartan-like conduct at Grant's defeat in Indiana.
In that desperate action the Kentuckians, overpowered by nearly four times
their number, performed feats of bravery scarcely equalled even in early
border warfare.
        In this struggle Lytle, then hardly seventeen years of age, had
both his arms shattered, his face powder-burnt, his hair singed to the
roots, and nineteen bullets passed through his body and clothing. In this
condition, a retreat being ordered, he succeeded in bringing off the field
several of his friends, generously aiding the wounded and the exhausted by
placing them on horses, while he himself ran forward in advance of the last
remnant of the retreating party to stop the only boat on the Ohio at that
time which could take them over, and save them from the overwhelming force
of their savage adversaries.
        On reaching the river he found the boat in the act of putting off
for the Kentucky shore. The men were reluctant to obey his demand for a
delay until those still in the rear should come up, one of them declaring
that "it was better that a few should perish than that all should be
sacrificed." He threw the rifle, which he still carried on his shoulder,
over the root of a fallen tree, and swore he would shoot the first man who
pulled an oar until his friends were aboard. In this way the boat was
detained until they came up and were safely lodged from the pursuing foe.
Disdaining personally to take advantage of this result, the boat being
crowded almost to dipping, he ran up the river to where some horses stood
panting under the willows after their escape from the battle-field, and
mounting one of the strongest, forced him into the river, holding on to the
mane by his teeth, until he was taken in the middle of the stream into the
boat, bleeding and almost fainting from his wounds, by the order of his
gallant captain, the lamented Stucker, who had observed his conduct with
admiration throughout, and was resolved that such a spirit should not
perish; for by this time the balls of the enemy were rattling like hail
about their ears.
                        THE LOST CHILD.
        Two sisters living in Williamsburg - Lydia Osborn, aged eleven
years, and Matilda Osborn, aged seven years - started on the afternoon of
July 13, 1804, to drive home the cows, following the paths which led to the
"big field," about a mile from the village, where the cattle were wont to
range. They were guided in their movements by tinkling of the cow-bells,
and perhaps were led off from the main path by this means and lost their
way. The elder girl, Lydia, supposed the cows were going away from home,
and left her little sister, Matilda, to make a detour and head them off,
but without success. So she returned to where she had left her sister, but
could not find her; after wandering about for a long time and crying out
her name she started for home, as she supposed, but took the wrong
direction, wandered on, and was lost in the wilderness. The younger sister
followed the sound of the cow-bells and arrived safe at home.

        The following is from the touching account of Rev. J.B. Finley, who
was with the party in search for her:

        Night came on, casing its darkened shadows over the forest, but she
came not to greet the anxious eyes of her parents; their child was in the
woods exposed to the savages and wild beasts. The neighborhood was aroused
with the alarm of "lost child!" Every heart was touched, and soon in every
direction torches were seen flashing their lights into the darkness of the
forest. Bells were rung, horns were blown, and guns were fired, if
perchance the sound might reach the ear of the lost one. The news reached
the settlement where we resided, and as many as could leave home turned out
to seek for the lost child. Some signs of her tracks were discovered
crossing branches and miry places; all indicating, however, that she was
going farther into the wilderness.
        On the third day Cornelius Washburn, the famous backwoodsman and
hunter, arrived with about five hundred others and accompanied by his noted
hunting dog. We were now deep in the wilderness and made preparations for
campin out that night. At day-break we were again ready for our search, but
as the collection of people was so numerous we formed into companies taking
different directions and meeting at night at a place designated. Money was
collected and sent to the settlements to buy provisions. Our numbers
increased so that on the seventh day there were more than a thousand
persons, many from Kentucky.
        Washburn discovered the place where she had slept for several
nights. He also saw where she had plucked and eaten foxgrapes and
whortle-berries.
        The place she had selected was where one tree had fallen across
another, which was lying down and afforded a good protection. To this place
the whole crowd hurried. Nothing could restrain them so eager were they to
find the lost child.
        In all these journeyings, the father was present, so absorbed in
grief that he could neither eat nor sleep. Sorrow drank up his spirits, and
he refused to be comforted. When hope was kindled he seemed like one
frantic, and flew in every direction, calling most piteously the name of
his child. " Lydia!" "Lydia!"
        The eighth morning the company started out abreast, about three
rods apart, with a man in the middle and one at each end of the line, whose
duty it was to blow horns at intervals to keep the line in order. The line
extended for several miles.
        On the morning of the fifteenth day we found on the north fork of
the Whiteoak her footprints in the sand where she had crossed that stream.
These footprints greatly revived our hopes, as they appeared fresh. Sending
back a man to notify the main body we proceeded up the creek until we came
to a large blackberry patch. Near this patch we found a neat little house
built of sticks over which were placed, in regular layers, pieces of moss.
In the centre was a little door, and in the interior was a bed made of
leaves, covered with moss and decorated with wild flowers. All could see at
once that it was the work of a child, and as we gazed upon it the tears
stole freely down our cheeks.
        Here away in the wilderness, far from human habitation, had this
child constructed this miniature house,and thus recalled the scenes of
home, sister, mother and father.
        The child must have been here several days, for from her little
house to the blackberry patch she had beaten quite a path. Discovering no
fresh signs of her presence we determined to return to the main creek and
wait the coming of the company, and prevent, if possible, the eager crowd
from rushing, on and destroying the signs. More than a thousand men camped
along the creek that night.
        Fearing the consequences of disclosing our discovery that night we
kept it secret until morning, when, forming the company into military
order, we marched them out into the opening flanking out right and left.
They surrounded the entire space, forming a hollow square. At the sight of
the little bower, a scene occurred which it would be impossible to
describe. Here were brave stalwart men, who had been subjected to the
perils of the wilderness, contending for every inch with savages and wild
beasts, whose hearts were never known to quail with fear, who at the sight
of that little bower were melted to tears. But when the father came up to
the little dwelling his own dear child had built, and exclaimed, Oh! Lydia,
Lydia, my dear child, are you yet alive?" a thousand hearts broke forth in
uncontrollable grief.
        The result of investigation showed that the tracks were several
days old. Horse tracks were also found, and the conclusion was that she had
been carried away by the Indians.
        Two miles from "Lydia's camp," for so it is called to this day,
they found her bonnet, and farther on an Indian camp several days old.
Further pursuit being considered useless the company disbanded and returned
to their homes.
        The father never gave up the search, but penetrated the wildest
solitudes and sought her among the Indians till the day of his death. The
lost was never found.

        The spot of Lydia's bower is pointed out to this day in Perry
township, Brown county; a citizen of that township, Mr. L.W. Claypool, in
speaking of this occurrence, has given some additional items:

        Cornelius Washburn engaged in it with the keen perceptive
intelligence which only a noted hunter possesses, and that it was wonderful
to see him calm and thoughtful walking slowly along noting a leaf upturned,
pea vine, brush or anything disturbed, while others could see nothing
except at a time when he would point out to them tracks of the child on the
sand bars, beds of leaves or the like. Some of the searchers made so much
noise, hollowing, blowing horn, etc., that Washburn begged of them to
desist, and he would find the child, insisting that after she had been lost
so long that she would hide from man as quick as she would from a wild
animal. They would not heed him but dashed ahead. Mr. Claypool continued: I
was once lost when eight or nine years of age with Jake Ashton, a year
younger, and can fully realize Washburn's assertion of fright. We went out
early in the morning to hunt the cows; soon the path gave out and we were
lost in the flat beech swamps between Glady and Glassy Runs. We wandered
about until night, coming out at a new road recently underbrushed just at
the time that an infair party of about a dozen couple on horseback were
passing. Although knowing most of them we hid until they passed.


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