OHIO STATEWIDE FILES - HISTORY: Chapter 23 (Abbott, John S. C., 1875)
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			Chapter XXIII.
	    Settlements on the Ohio and on the Lake.

   About fifty miles east of Cincinnati a little settlement sprang up which
received the name of Manchester. St. Clair had, by proclamation, created a 
county there, which was called Adams, in honor of John Adams, second President
of the United States. It covered a very large tract of country, being one of
the four counties into which the whole Northwestern Territory was divided.
General Nathaniel Massie was governmental surveyor for this region. He needed
a settlement for his surveying parties in the midst of his operations. In 
the year 1790, he succeeded by very liberal offers of land in securing about
thirty families to co-operate in the enterprise. His station was carefully
laid out into town lots and farming lots. In those days it was necessary 
that all the buildings should be clustered together for mutual protection.
Cabins were raised, and by the middle of March, 1791, the little village was
entirely surrounded by strong pickets, firmly planted in the ground, with
block houses at each angle. This was the fourth settlement which was effected
within the bounds of the present State of Ohio.
   Its early settlers consisted of a very choice set of emigrants. They were
intelligent, temperate, industrious and brave. Their courage consisted in the
spirit which makes every preparation for the hour of peril, and then, in the
language of the apostle, "having done all to stand." Though this settlement
was commenced very nearly in the hottest period of the Indian War, it suffered
less than any other which had been made on the banks of the Ohio River. This
is undoubtedly to be attributed to the watchfulness with which these brave
pioneers guarded their homes. Most of them had come from the Kentucky side
of the river, where they had been reared in the midst of dangers and were 
enured to perish.
   Among the honored names, we find the Beasleys, the Stouts, the Washburns, 
the Wades, and many others, who were not only the equals, but the superiors, 
of the savages in all the arts and stratagems of border warfare. Their
nearest neighbors, north of the Ohio River, were those at Cincinnati, on the
west, and the French settlement at Gallipolis, about seventy-five miles east
of them. Nearly opposite the town there were three of the beautiful islands
of the river, of apparently inexhaustible fertility of soil. As soon as the
cabins were reared the whole population combined their energies to clear the 
lowest of the islands and plant it with corn. They could all work there at
their ease, men, women and children, for the approaches could be very easily
watched, and no foe could advance in canoes from either side of the river 
without affording sufficient time for the laborers to reach the protection 
of their fortresses.
   Game was very abundant in the woods, consisting of deer, elk, bears and
turkeys. The hunter could go out any morning, make his own selection of game,
and in an hour or two return with any quantity he might desire. The river
furnished also a great variety of excellent fish. Thus the inhabitants were
dwelling in the midst of abundance. But there is no Elysium to be found in
this wicked world where man is the most cruel foe of his brother man.
   One evening in the latter part of April, 1791, Mr. Israel Donalson visited
the settlement to assist Mr. Massie in some of his surveys. One morning Mr.
Massie, with the young surveyor and two other men, all well armed, took a 
birch canoe and paddled up the stream four or five miles to make a survey.
It was at the time of the spring floods, and the majestic river was full to 
its upper banks. The current was so strong, that with their paddles they made
slow progress against it. At length they reached a little stream entering the
river from the north, then without a name, but since known as Donalson's
Creek. Here they moored their boat and commenced to survey. General Massie
had the compass, Mr. Donalson and one of the other men, William Lytle, carried
the chain. The fourth man, James Tittle, followed to render any assistance
which might be needed.
   They had advanced but about one hundred and fifty rods along the banks of 
the creek, when the chain broke. They were all clustered together riveting
it again by the aid of a tomahawk and stone, when suddenly, and to their
great consternation, two canoes filled with Indian warriors descending the
creek, came upon them. The savages, as soon as they caught a glimpse of the 
white men, turned their canoes to the land and sprang ashore. The surveyors
fled towards their boat, three of them reached it, and pushing out of the 
land, escaped. Mr. Donalson, who was by no means of agile frame, and who was
totally unaccustomed to such adventures, was left far in the rear. In the
terror of his clumsy flight, he struck his foot against some obstruction and
plunged headlong into a ditch. The Indians were so close upon him, that seeing
escape to be impossible, he did not attempt to rise. Three warriors were
instantly at his side presenting their rifles at his head. As he offered no
resistance, they raised the muzzles of their guns, and one of them held out
his hand to help him up.
   Instead of pursuing those who escaped, they took Donalson back to their
canoes, when several of the party, loading themselves with provisions, blankets, 
etc., prepared to march with their captive through the forest to their distant
settlement. The Indian who helped Donalson from the ditch was a very lusty
and, apparently, kind-hearted man. On the march he seemed to assume that the
prisoner was peculiarly his, and entitled to his protection. Soon the rain
began to fall, and very copiously. But rapidly the Indians continued their
tramp all the afternoon, until nightfall. They then built their camp-fires, 
kindling them from the flash of their guns, cooked and ate their supper, and, 
apparently, as insensible to rain and the chill night air, as were the
buffalo and the deer, slept soundly until morning. Their captive was not
treated cruelly, but merely bound so as to prevent escape.
   At an early hour of the morning they resumed their march. The rain still
continued. As they were passing along, drenched with the falling showers, 
one of the bareheaded Indians seemed to think that the slouched hat which Mr.
Donalson wore, was a convenient article of apparel. He therefore snatched it
from the head of the prisoner, and put it upon his own. Mr. Donalson, by 
signs, appealed to his stalwart guardian for redress. The Indian promptly
seized the cap from the purloiner, and replaced it upon its owner's head. 
They, however, ahd not advanced far, before the thief took it again. Donalson
once more appealed to his protector. The Indian shook his head, and opening
his budget, took from it a sort of blanket cap.
   "We went on," writes Donalson. "It still rained hard, and the brooks were
very much swollen. When my friend discovered that I was timorous, he would
lock his arm in mine and lead me through. Frequently in the open woods when
I would get tired, I would do the same thing with him, and walk for miles.
They did not make me carry anything until Sunday or Monday. They got into a
thicket of game, and killed, I think, two bears and some deer. They then
halted and jerked their meat, ate a large portion, peeled some bark, made a
kind of box, filled it, and put it on me to carry. I soon got tired of it, 
and threw it down. They raised a great laugh, examined my back, applied some 
bear's oil to it, and put on the box again. I went on some distance, and
again threw it down. My friend took it, threw it over his head, and carried
it. It weighed, I thought, at least fifty pounds."
   While resting one day, one of the Indians took a kernel of corn, which
was carefully wrapped up, and digging a hole in the ground, planted it, 
and having a comical smile on his face, indicated that that would be Donalson's
employment, calling him at the same time a squaw. At length they had traversed
the whole breadth of Ohio, and reached a Shawanese village, on the banks of 
the Sandusky. Here they undertook the rather painful operation of transforming
their captive into an Indian. One by one the hairs bare, excepting what was
called the scalp lock. His face was painted, and a tin jewel put into his 
nose.
   The village they had entered was quite a spacious one, and it was evident
that British or French engineers had assisted them in constructing what was
really a fortified camp. There was something quite remarkable in the barbarian
etiquette there established, and in the courtesies of daily intercourse
practiced by these savages, courtesies often violated by the parliamentary
bodies of England, France and America.
   The day after the capture of Donalson, a war party of the Indians, in the
vicinity of of Maysville had been cut off, and nearly every man killed.
While Donalson was in the Shawanese village an Indian runner entered with the
afflicting tidings. Immediately all the men of the camp were assembled to
hear the story. The messenger spoke for an hour. There was breathless silence.
A pinfall could have been heard. It was remarkable that the savages did not
retaliate upon their capture, but they made no difference in his treatment.
   There were two other white men in the camp who had been captured when 
quite young, and who had been incorporated into the tribe. They both had
become throughly Indian in character, and instead of wishing to return to 
the settlements of the white men, had imbibed all the hostility of the Indians
to the invaders of their soil.
   The tidings which the courier had brought threw the little community into
a state of great excitement. Donalson's protector and another left the camp
on some excursion as scouts. "Never before," writes Donalson, "had I parted
with a friend with the same regret."
   In the afternoon of that day about sixty warriors, with a hundred very
fine horses, which had been stolen from Kentucky, left the camp in a state 
of great excitement, taking Mr. Donalson with them. They traveled until
nightfall and then encamped on the edge of a prairie. The captive was firmly
bound and placed, to sleep, between two Indians, one of whom held each end 
of the rope, which was made of bark, till just before the dawn of day when
he succeeded in freeing himself; creeping softly on his hands and feet, for
a few rods, when his guard awoke, and with loud cries gave the alarm.
   The night was dark. They had no knowledge of the direction in which their
captive had fled, and fortunately for him they commenced their pursuit in an
opposite course. Donalson fled with all speed, as the shouts of his bewildered
pursuers faded away in the distance. Exhausted by a sleepless night, and by
his rapid flight, at 10 o'clock he crept into a hollow log, where he slept
soundly for several hours. It was nearly sundown when he awoke. He continued
his flight until dark, and then secreted himself for another night. On his 
way he fortunately foudn a turkey's nest, with two eggs in it. They afforded
him a refreshing supper.
   Thus he continued, day after day, to journey on, in a southwesternly
direction, knowing that he would thus eventually reach the Miami River. He 
could then follow down that stream to the Ohio. At length, with rent clothes, 
and bleeding feet, and famished frame, as he was about sinking in despair, he
heard the distinct tinkling of a bell. It animated him with new life. As he
pressed on the sound of an ax reached his ears. "It was the sweetest music
I had heard," he said, "for many a day." He soon entered the clearing of an
emigrant, Mr. Woodward. The farmer was working in a field at some distance
from his house. When he first caught sight of Donalson, he was greatly
alarmed, supposing him to be an Indian. An explanation ensued, and Mr. Woodward
caught his horse and placed the half-dead fugitive upon his back, and gently
led the horse to his house. There was a few cabins clustered together for
mutual protection.
   The little community was much excited by the strange arrival. They all 
supposed, at frist, that he was an Indian whom Mr. Woodward had wounded and
captured; and hurried questions were put upon that supposition.
   "I was not surprised," writes Mr. Donalson, "not offended at the inquiries;
for I was still in Indian uniform, bare headed, my hair cut off close, 
excepting the scalp and foretop, which they had put up in a piece of tin, 
with a bunch of turkey feathers, which I could not undo. Mr. Woodward took
me to his house, where every kindness was shown me. They soon gave me other
clothing. Coming from different persons they did not fit me very neatly. But
there could not be a pair of shoes found, that I could get on, my feet were 
so much swollen."
   Donalson having thus reached the settlements, was soon conveyed in safety
to his friends. Another incident of the little colony at Manchester I will
give, as well narrated in McDonald's Sketches:
   "John Edgington, Ashael Edgington, and another man, started out on a 
hunting expedition, towards Brush Creek. They camped out six miles, in a 
northeast direction from where West Union now stands, on the road from
Chillicothe to Maysville. The Edgingtons had good success in hunting, having
killed a number of deer and bears. Of the deer killed they saved the skins
and hams alone. They hung up the proceeds of their hunt on a scaffold, out
of the reach of the wolves and other wild animals, and returned home for
pack-horses.
   "As it was late in the season, no one apprehended danger, the winter season
being usually a time of repose from Indian incursions. The two Edgingtons 
returned to their old hunting camp, and, alighting from their horses, were
preparing to strike a firew, when a platoon of Indians fired upon them, at
the distance of not more than twenty paces. Ashael Edgington fell to rise no
more. John was more fortunate. The sharp crack of the rifles, and the horrid
yells of the Indians, as they leaped from their place of ambush, frightened
the horses, who took the track towards home at full speed.
   "John Edgington was very active on foot, and now an occasion offered which
required his utmost speed. The moment the Indians leaped from their hiding 
place they threw down their guns and took after him. They pursued him, 
screaming and yelling in the most horrid manner. For about a mile the Indians
stepped in his tracks, almost before the bending grass could rise. The 
uplifted tomahawk was frequently so near his head that he thought he felt its
edge. Edgington at length gained upon his pursuers, and, after a long race, 
he distanced them, made his escape, and safely reached home. This, truly, 
was a fearful and well conducted race. The big Shawnee chief, who headed the
Indians on this occasion, after peace was made, and Chillicothe became
settled, frequently told the writer of this sketch of the race. He said, 'The
white man who ran away was a smart fellow. He ran and I ran. He ran and ran, 
and at last ran clear off from me.'"
   All those who became intimately acquainted with the Indians agree with the 
declaration that many of them possessed amiable and attractive traits of
character. Mr. David Robb, an intelligent and candid observer, and who was
for some time Indian Agent among the Senecas and the Shawness, has given a
very interesting account of his intercourse with the red men.
   Though intemperance generally prevailed, there were those who scorned thus
to degrade themselves. In the pride of self-respect, they refused to associate
with the low and the groveling, and there were almost as marked distinctions
in society as with more civilized communities. These men cultivated their
little farms with much taste and judgement. Their wives often cooked very 
palatable meals. They obtained cows, and made both butter and cheese. Many
of them gradually obtained very considerable skill in the use of tools. One
chief had a full assortment of carpenter's tools, which he kept in good order.
   "He made," writes Mr. Robb, "plows, harrows, wagons, bedsteads, tables,
bureaus. He was frank, liberal, and conscientious. On my asking him who
taught him the use of tools, he replied, no one. Then, pointing up to the
sky, he said, 'The Great Spirit taught me.'"
   It seems to be the testimony of every one who has spent any length of time
among them, that there was something fascinating in the Indian character. The
captives, when adopted, almost invariably became attached to them. It was
often very difficult, and at times impossible, to induce those who had been
taken prisoners when young, in after life to return to their own people.
   There was among the Shawnees a white woman, who had numbered her three-
score years and twenty. Her friends made every effort in their power to 
induce her to return to them. It was all in vain. In the whole tribe there 
could not be found a squaw who was more thoroughly Indian in her nature. The
Indians were generally very consciencious in fulfulling their contracts. Mr.
Robb says:
   "I have often loaned them money, which was always returned in due season, 
with a single exception. This was a load to a young man, who promised to pay
me when they received their annuity. After the appointed hour he shunned me, 
and the matter remained unsettled until just prior to our departure for
their new homes. I then stated the circumstance to one of the chiefs, more
from curiousity to see how he would receive the intelligence than with the
expectation of its being the means of bringing that money. He therefore
talked with the lad upon the subject, but, being unsuccessful, he called a 
council of his brother chiefs, who formed a circle, with the young man in the
center. After talking to him awhile in his dishonest conduct. But all proved
unavailing. Finally, the chiefs, in a most generous and noble spirit, made 
up the amount from their own purses, and pleasantly tendered it to me."
   The leading men of the Indians were truly great men. They attained their
eminence by their achievements. They loomed above their fellows by their
sagacity, their bravery, and their oratorical powers. Black Hoof was one of
the most eminent of the Shawanee chiefs. He was present at Braddock's defeat,
and was one of the prominent actors in all the wars of the Ohio Indians; and
that he had a wonderfully happy faculty in expressing his ideas, and was
remarkably graceful and eloquent. Colonel Johnson, who knew him intimately,
writes:
   "He was well versed in the traditions of his people. No one knew better
their peculiar relations to the whites, whose settlements were gradually
encroaching on them, or could detail with more minuteness the wrongs with
which his nation were afflicted. But although a stern and uncompromising
hostility to the whites had marked his policy, through a period of forty 
years, and nerved his arm in a hundred battles, he became at length convinced
of the madness of an ineffectual struggle against a vastly superior and 
hourly increasing foe. No sooner had he satisfied himself of this truth, than
he acted upon it with a decision which formed a prominent trail in his 
character. The temporary success of the Indians, in several engagements, 
previous to the campaign of General Wayne, had kept alive their expiring
hopes. But their signal defeat by that gallant officer, convinced the more 
reflecting of their leaders, of the desparate character of the conflict.
   "Black Hoof was among those who decided upon making terms with the
victorious American commander; and having signed the treaty of 1795, at 
Greenville, he continued faithful to his stipulations, during the remainder
of his life. From that day he ceased to be the enemy of the white man. As he
was not one who could act a negative part, he became the firm ally and
friend of those against whom his tomahawk had been so long raised in
vindictive animosity. He was their friend, not from sympathy or conviction,
but in obedience to a necessity which left no middle course, and under a 
belief that submission alone could save his tribe from destruction. Having
adopted this policy, his sagacity and sense of honor alike forbade a recurrence
either to open war or secret hostility. He was the principal chief of the
Shawanee nation, and possessed all the influence and authority which are
usually attached to that office, in the period when Tecumseh and his brother,
the Prophet, commenced their hostile operations against the United States.
   "When Tecumseh and the Prophet embarked in their scheme for the recovery
of the land as far south as the Ohio River, it became their interest as well
as policy, to enlist Black Hoof in the enterprise, and every effort which 
the genius of the one and the cunning of the other could devise, was brought
to bear upon him. But Black Hoof continued faithful to the treaty which he
had signed at Greenville, in 1795, and by prudence and influence kept the
greater part of his tribe from joining the standard of Tecumseh, or engaging
on the side of the British in the late war with England. In that contest he
became the ally of the United States, and, although he took no active part 
in it, he exerted a very salutary influence over his tribe.
   "In January, 1813, he visited General Tupper's camp, at Fort McArthur, and
while there, about ten o'clock one night, while sitting by the fire in company
with the general and several other officers, some one fired a pistol through
a hole in the wall of the hut, and shot Black Hoof in the face. The ball
entered the cheek, glanced against the bone, and finally lodged in the neck.
He fell, and for some time was supposed to be dead, but revived, and afterwards
recovered from this severe wound. The most prompt and diligent inquiry as to
the author of this cruel and dastardly act, failed to lead to his detection.
No doubt was entertained that this attempt at assassination was made by a 
white man, stimulated, perhaps, by no better excuse than the memory of some
actual or ideal wrong inflicted on some of his own race by an unknown hand 
of kindred color with that of his intended victim.
   "Black Hoof was opposed to polygamy, and to the practice of burning prisoners.
He is reported to have lived forty years with one wife, and to have reared a
numerous family of children, who both loved and esteemed him. His disposition
was cheerful, and his conversation sprightly and agreeable. In stature he 
was small, being not more than five feet eight inches in height. He was favored
with good health and unimpaired eyesight to the period of his death."
   Early in the year 1796 arrangements began to be made to establish a colony
in that northern portion of Ohio to which we have before referred, called the
Western Reserve. A surveying party was sent out, which, coasting along the 
shores of Lake Erie, landed on the fourth of July at the mouth of a small
stream called Conneaut Creek. John Barr, Esq., is a sketch of this movement, 
eloquently writes:
   "The sons of revolutionary sires; some of them sharers themselves in the 
great baptism of the Republic, they made the anniversary of their country's
freedom a day of ceremonial and rejoicing. They felt that they had arrived
at the place of their labors, the, to many of them, sites of homes as little
alluring, almost as crowded with dangers as were the levels of Jamestown or
the rocks of Plymouth, to the ancestors who had preceded them in the conquest
of the sea coast wilderness of this continent. From old homes, and friendly
and social associations, they were almost as completely exiled as were the
cavaliers who debarked upon the shores of Virginia, or the Puritans who
sought the strand of Massachusetts.
   "Far away as they were from the villages of their birth and boyhood, before
them the trackless forest, or the untraversed lake, yet did they resolve to
cast fatigue and privation in peril from their thoughts, for the time being, 
and give to the day its due, to patriotism its awards. Mustering their numbers, 
they sat them down on the eastern shore of the stream now known as Conneaut, 
and dipping from the lake the liquor in which they pledged their country - 
their goblets, tin cups of no rare workmanship, with the ordinance accompaniment
of two or three fowling pieces, discharging the required national salute -
the first settlers of the Reserve spent their landing day as became the sons 
of the Pilgrim Fathers, as the pioneers of a population that has since made
the then wilderness of Northern Ohio to blossom as the rose, and prove the 
homes of a people as remarkable for integrity, industry, love of country, 
moral truth and enlightened legislation as any to be found within the territorial
limits of their ancestral New England."
   This truly pilgrim band which thus wrought new homes on the bleak shores
of Lake Erie, consisted of fifty-two persons. Two only were females, Mrs.
Stiles and Mrs. Gunn. There was one child. The next morning they commenced 
the building of a large block-house. It was to be their fortress, their store
house, and, for the present, the dwelling place of the little company of 
emigrants. They named this building, which was erected on the sandy beach
that fringed the eastern shore of the stream, Stow Castle.
   It would not now seem that the location was a wise one. The beach, though
overgrown with heavy timber, was a mere accumulation of sand. The trees were
to be cut down to afford room for the house. The creek was scarcely even
boatable, and offered no facilities as a harbor. The mouth was frequently so
choked up with a sand bar that often, after a severe storm upon the lake, 
there was no visible harbor for many days. After the gale had subsided, the
creek in a few days would gain sufficient strength again to cut an opening
through the bar, forming new channels. Thus the mouth of the creek was
contiually shifting.
   We cannot but wonder at the apparent want of judgment often manifested by
these pioneers, leading to awful scenes of suffering, which ordinary prudence
might have avoided. The surveying party, of which we have spoken, spent the
Summer at Conneaut, but were not prepared to winter there. Judge James
Kingsbury came there during the Summer, with his family. He erected a log 
hut upon the boarders of the lake. When all the rest had departed, his family
was left to bide the storms of the approaching Winter. Business, in the Fall,
compelled him to go to New York. He made all the provision he could for his
family, expecting to be absent but two or three weeks.
   Mrs. Kingsbury was left alone with her little children, in that awful 
solitude, as the storms of Winter were beginning to lash the lake and howl
through the forest. The judge, on his journey, was attacked by severe illness,
which confined him to his bed for several weeks. Upon his recovery he attended
to his business as speedily as possible, and commenced his return.
   Upon reaching Buffalo, a frontier post far away amidst the wilds of New
York, he hired an Indian to guide him through the pathless wilds to his 
distant cabin. His anxiety was terrible, as he knew that his family must be
quite destitute of food. At Presque Isle he purchased twenty pounds of flour
to be carried to them. In crossing Elk Creek on the ice, his exhausted horse
fell beneath him and died. He took the sack of flour upon his own shoulders, 
and oppressed with the most gloomy forebodings, pressed forward on his weary
tramp through pathless wilds, and drifted snow, and wintry storms. At length
he reached his dreary home, late one evening. His worst fears were realized.
His poor wife, pale, emaciate, reduced by cruel hunger to the last stages in
which life can be supported, lay stretched upon a cot, scarcely able to move.
By her side, on a little pallet, was the lifeless body of a child who had 
died of starvation. Who can imagine the scenes of anguish which that mother
had passed through during those long wintry months of woe. After this
dreadful experience, prosperity seems to have dawned upon the family. Judge
Kingsbury rose to important posts of trust.
   The harbor of Conneaut has since then been greatly improved, rendering it
quite an important place of shipment. There was, after the treaty of 1795, 
at Greenville, peace with the Indians. There were at this time at Conneaut
about thirty lodges of the natives. They were pleasantly located, and 
presented an usual appearance of neatness and comfort. The Massauga tribe
then possessed this territory.
   After the awful defeat of St. Clair, two captives were brought to this
village. They both were doomed first to run the gauntlet. As we have mentioned, 
this terrible ordeal consisted of arranging all the Indians, men, women, 
strong boys and girls in two long parallel lines, about five feet apart. The
Indians stood about five or six feet from each other, so as to give ample
opportunity to swing their sticks, and strike with all their strength.
   They were all provided with stout switches, strong enough to inflict
terrible blows, but not sufficiently massive to break the skull or to destroy
life. Through the parallel lines the captive, divested of his clothing, was 
forced to run, while every one struck him in the face, over the head, or 
wherever a blow could be inflicted. It was a terrible ordeal through which 
to pass. If the wretched victim fell, bleeding and exhausted, he was then
kicked and beaten still more unmercifully.
   When the young men had somewhat recovered from this terrible infliction,
a council was held, and it was decided that, while one should be saved, the
other, Fitz Gibbon by name, should be burned, to appease the spirits of the
Indians slain in battle. The victim was bound to the stake. A large quantity
of the most combustible material which the forest would furnish was piled up
around him. But just as the torch was about to be applied, the maiden daughter
of one of the chiefs, whose heart was touched that so fair a young man should
suffer so cruel a death, implored her father, with flooded eyes and in the
most piteous terms, to save him. She also offered to the little community
a small sum of money and a package of furs of his ransom. The savages, who
did not regard their captive with personal animosity, listened to this humane
appeal, and the life of the young man was spared. It is to be regretted that 
the name of this second Pocahontas has not been transmitted to us.
   The remarkable statement is made that, in the eastern part of the Village
of Conneaut, there were found the remains of an ancient burying-ground, which
evidently belonged to a race who had occupied the soil at some period, far 
before the days of the present Indian inhabitants. The burial-ground embraced
four acres. It was laid out in the form of an oblong-square. It had been
accurately surveyed into lots running north and south. It presented all the
order of arrangement of a Christian grave-yard.
   Many of the bones seemed to have belonged to men of gigantic stature. Some
of the skulls were sufficiently large to admit the head of an ordinary man.
The jaw-bones were much larger than those of any men of our day. In one jaw, 
a metallic tooth was found, which had been fitted into the cavity from which
the natural tooth had been drawn. 
   Though the region was covered with a gigantic forest, there were many traces
of ancient cultivation. A large tree was cut down, which presented, near its
heart, evident marks of the blows of an ax. The annular rings of the tree, 
when carefully counted with a magnifying glass, amounted to three hundred
and fifty, since the blows received by the ax. This would carry us back to
thirteen years before the discovery of America.
   Emigrants began to flock in considerable numbers to the Reserve, and having
no fear of the now friendly Indians, commenced settlements in various places.
Being thus far removed from the haunts of civilization, one would suppose
that they aid in case of sickness or other adversity. But one who was familiar
with these adventures and hardships writes:
   "The settlement of the reserved commenced in a matter somewhat peculiar.
Instead of beginning on one side of a county, and advancing gradually into
the interior, as had usually been done in similar cases, the proprietors of 
the reserve, being governed by different and separate views, began their 
improvements wherever their individual interests led them. Hence we find many
of the first settlers immured in a dense forest, fifteen or twenty miles or
more from the abode of any white inhabitants.
   "In consequence of their scattered situation, journeys were sometimes to
be performed of twenty or fifty miles for the sole purpose of having the 
staple of an ox-yoke mended, or some other mechanical job, in itself trifling, 
but absolutely essential for the successful prosecution of business. These
journeys had to be performed through the wilderness, at a great expense of 
time; and in many cases the only safe guide was to direct their course by
the township lines made by the surveyors."
   As early as the year 1755 there was a French trading post in a small Indian
village on the banks of the Cuyahoga River, near the mouth of which stream
the beautiful City of Cleveland now stands. Ten years after this a Moravian
missionary, Zeisburger by name, accompanied by several Indian converts, 
left Detroit in a vessel called the Mackinaw, and cast anchor in the mouth
of the Cuyahoga River. They then ascended the lonely, forest-fringed stream
about ten miles, and settled in an abandoned village of the Ottawas. They 
gave their little settlement the appropriate name of Pilgerruh, or Pilgrim's
Rest. It was within the limits of the present Town of Independence.
   From an early day the mouth of the Cuyahoga River had attracted the attention
of leading American statesmen as an important commercial position. The
company of surveyors who celebrated the fourth of July, 1796, at Conneaut, in
the Autumn of that year, advanced to the Cuyahoga and laid out the plan of
a city, which they named Cleveland, in honor of General Moses Cleveland, who
was the agent of the Land Company. Mr. Cleveland was a lawyer of Canterbury, 
Connecticut. He had received a liberal education at Yale College, had a 
large fortune, and was a man of considerable note.
   The surveyors having completed their task by the 18th of October, retired
from the place, leaving two families only to pass the dreary Winter in those
vast solitudes. The heads of these families were Job V. Stiles and Edward 
Paine. Both families resided in one log cabin, which stood in the heart of the
present city, where at that time a dense forest shed its gloom.
   The next Summer the surveying party returned, and made Cleveland its head-
quarters. Judge Kingsbury, whose family experience during the Winter at 
Conneaut had been so dreadful, moved to Cleveland. Soon several other families
of emigrants came to the same place. The difficulty of traveling in those
days was greater than we can now easily imagine. Mr. Nathaniel Doane, in the
year 1798, removed to Cleveland with his family from Chatham, Connecticut. It
took hm ninety-two days to traverse the vast wilderness between. In the 
Autumn of that year every person in the little hamlet of log huts was sick
of bilious fever. Mr. Doane's family consisted of his wife and nine children, 
all under thirteen years of age. The eldest child, Seth, had daily attacks
of fever and ague. He was so weak that he could not without difficulty lift a
pail of water.
   And yet, for two or three months, the only way in which the family were 
supplied with food was for this poor boy to walk to Judge Kingsbury's, five
miles distant, with a peck of corn, grind it in a hand-mill, and bring it
home upon his shoulders. Littl Seth would wait in the morning till his first
attack of ague was over. He would then hasten along his toilsome journey.
Having obtained his meal, he would wait until the second attack had come and
gone - for he had two attacks each day - and he would then set out on his
return.
   At one time the boy was so feeble, and a wintry storm so severe, that for
several days he was unable to make the trip. During that time the sick family
lived upon turnips alone. In November four men of the settlement, who were
just recovering from severe sickness, started in a boat for Walnut Creek, 
Pennsylvania, to obtain some flour for their enfeebled families. When just
below Euclid Creek a fierce storm swept the lake; the boat was driven ashore
and dashed to pieces upon the rocks. With difficulty they saved their lives, 
and in utter destitution regained their homes. During the Winter and ensuing
Summer there was no flour in the settlement but such as was obtained from
hand and coffee mills. As they had no means of separating the bran, the flour
was made into bread similar to what is now called Graham bread.
   During the Summer of 1790, the Connecticut Land Company constructed the
first road on the Reserve. It ran from the Pennsylvania line, a few miles
back from the lake, to Cleveland. Very strangely the settlers scattered at
great distances from each other. The dispersion was such that, from January, 
1799, to April, 1800, there was but one white family in Cleveland, that of
Major Carter. During this latter year several settlers came. Two enterprising
Connecticut emigrants erected a saw-mill and a grist-mill, at the falls, on
the site of Newbury. The little colony began now to flourish.
   In the year 1801 the fourth of July was celebrated in Cleveland by a ball
given by Major Carter in his log cabin. One of the guests fiddled while the
dancers, numbering thirty in all, vigorously passed through the evolutions
of scamper-down, double-shuffle, and western-swing. These were not temperance
days. Whisky, sweetened with maple syrup, was amply provided for the guests, 
and it is not improbable that with some the merriment degenerated into
carousing. Even in the most genteel circles of our cities, where wine flows
freely at an evening entertainment, it is not unusual for some wine-bibber 
to learn that "it biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder."
   The Indians were accustomed, at this period, to meet every Autumn at 
Cleveland in large numbers, and from wide dispersion, for purposes of trade.
They came in canoes from their hunting grounds along the shores of the lake, 
and up the rivers and the creeks, and in quite a fleet entered the mouth of
the Cuyahoga River. They would spend the Winter in hunting, scattered through
these wide regions. In the Spring they flocked to Cleveland, disposed of their
furs to traders, and launching their bark canoes upon the lake, returned to
their towns in the region of the Sandusky and the Maumee. Here they spent the
Summer raising their crops of corn and potatoes. They were far more dependent
upon their crops for food than has been generally supposed.
   "In this connection we give an incident showing the fearlessness and
intrepidity of Major Lorenzo Carter, a native of Rutland, Vermont, and a 
thorough pioneer, whose rough exterior covered a warm heart. Sometime in the
Spring of 1799, the Chippewas and Ottawas, to the number of several hundred,
having disposed of their furs determined to have one of their drinking frolics
at the camp on the west bank of the Cuyahoga. As a precautionary measure, they 
gave up their tomahawks and other deadly weapons to their squaws to secrete, 
so that, in the height of their frenzy, they need not harm each other.
   "They then sent to the major for whisky, from time to time, as they wanted
it; and in proportion as they became intoxicated he weakened it with water.
After a while it resulted in the Indians becoming partially sober from drinking
freely of diluted liquor. Perceiving the trick they became much enraged. Nine 
of them came to the major's cabin, swearing vengeance on him and his family.
Carter, being apprised of their design, and knowing that they were partially
intoxicated, felt himself to be fully their match, although he possessed but
poor weapons of defense. Stationing himself behind the cabin door, with a 
fire poker, he successfully knocked down two or three as they attempted to 
enter, and then, leaping over their prostrate bodies, furiously attacked
those on the outside, and drove them to their canoes. Soon after a deputation
of squaws came over to make peace with the major; when, arming himself, he
fearlessly repaired to the camp alone and settled the difficulty. Such
eventually became his influence over the Indians that they regarded him as a 
magician; and many of them were made to believe that he could shoot them with
a rifle and not break their skins."