was walking peacefully along, and struck him down. He was arrested, tried and condemned to be hanged.

"The Indians thought it an overwhelming disgrace "to be hung like dogs' as they said, and they determined, if they couldn't release him to give him poison. I suppose the reason they went, when I told Sally to run after the men, was that going for the purpose they were, they didn't wish anything to defeat the purpose. They were afraid that if the men came there would be a fight and they would be delayed and perhaps stopped altogether. Kishkawko took poison the morning he was to be hung. They found the white man's government too strong for them to rescue him, so they gave him poison.”

GOING AFTER STRAWBERRIES

"One day in June, as soon as dinner was over, Sallie, and a young woman who worked for uncle Sam, and uncle Sam's little boy and I went over to the Canada side of St. Clair River to gather wild strawberries that grew there in great abundance. We crossed the river in a row-boat and when we got on shore we pulled the boat high up on the beach, so that the waves would not carry it off. We had a gay time filling our pails and baskets with the ripe fruit. When we got through we were rather tired and very leisurely took our way to the boat. We did not notice that the small boy had gone ahead of us. When we were almost to the beach he came running back to us, shouting, 'Boaty! boaty!'

"I knew in a moment that he had done some mischief and I set my strawberries down and ran as fast as I could toward the river. Sure enough he had pushed the boat into the water and she was floating off with the current. I waded out clear up to my neck, but I could not reach her, and as I could not swim I had to wade back.

"By this time the girls and the small boy were on the shore, and as I came back they set up a dismal wail; for the boat was gone, and here we four were, miles from any habitation and with a fine prospect of spending the night in the woods, where the wolves and bears still roamed and occasionally Indians were seen. We sat in a very melancholy plight, the girls crying, the boy looking doleful, and I thinking of what we could do. There was an island about a mile below, near the Canada shore and I thought the current would carry the boat to that island and strand her on its northeastern point; and how to get to that point was a question.

"I looked around the beach and found there was some drift-wood of logs and some long poles that pioneers use in building mud-chimneys. I thought that with these we could build a raft, if we could only get something to tie them together with; but there wasn't a string a yard

long, except those we used to hold up our stockings with as was the fashion in those days. But strings, or no strings, that raft had to be made, and what were sunbonnets and aprons and dresses and skirts for if in an emergency they wouldn't tie a raft together?

"I told the girls my plan, and they said they didn't believe I ever could get the boat again in such manner, but they went to work with a will, because I wanted them to and because it was the only way to get home. After a great deal of hard work a raft was completed, tied with the aforesaid material. Luckily the fashion of those days provided the women with a long chemise that hung down to their ankles and covered her much more as to her neck and arms than many a fashionable belle of these times is covered by what people are pleased to call 'full dress.'

"You may be sure that raft was a very frail affair to sail the waters of the great St. Clair River, and Sallie said she knew that we would be drowned. It was only large enough for two, and Margaret and I went, leaving Sallie to take care of the boy. It required a brave heart to go or stay; for in the distance we could hear the occasional howl of the wolf and on the water was the little raft that looked as if it might fall to pieces at a moment's notice. The plan was that Margaret and I should stand up and pole the raft; but as soon as we got from the shore Margaret was afraid to stand up, and so she sat down and cried, and I did the work. The current helped a great deal, and after a time we could see the head of the island. We knew there was an encampment of friendly Indians there at that time, fishing and hunting, but we were not afraid of them.

"By this time the moon was up, and as soon as we could see the Island we saw all of the Indians down on the shore gazing eagerly in our direction. They didn't seem to understand what was coming towards them. But as we got nearer and nearer and the bright moonlight shone directly upon us, and they discovered that it was only two forlorn girls on a crazy raft, they screamed and shouted with laughter. I didn't care for that, for by this time I could see our boat that had stranded about where I thought she would.

"The Indians were very kind to us; the men went and got the boat and untied the raft, and the women wrung out our clothes and took us to a wigwam and helped up put ours on; then they helped us into the boat and put the rest of the wet clothes in and with many friendly grunts and exclamations they pushed our boat out into the stream and we hastened back to Sallie and the boy. Here I will say that I have never seen an Indian treated with kindness but what he returned it by equal kindness, and he never forgets a favor as I know from experience.

"Sallie and the boy were rejoiced when we got back, and they dried

their tears that had been plentifully flowing, put on their wet clothes and we started for home. We agreed amongst ourselves that we would slip into the house the back way, change our clothes and not tell anyone of the adventure, so no one knew of it for some time. But Margaret had a beau to whom she told the story after a while; and it was such a good story that, manlike, he told it to some one else, and so everyone knew it in a little time, and we were well laughed at.

"I related that story, a good many years afterwards to Mr. Stanley, famous for his pictures of Indians. We were passing the island in a steamer of your uncle's and I was telling him something of the early days of St. Clair River settlements. He remarked that the incident would make a pretty picture. Not long after that he brought me on my sixtieth birthday that picture."

In 1827 they returned to Conneaut, O., where they lived till 1831. During this time the two little sisters, having grown to womanhood under the fostering care of Aunt Emily, married and went to preside over homes of their own, Sallie becoming Mrs. Brindle and Abba the wife of B. F. Owen. Soon after her father, Eber Ward, was apppointed keeper of Mackinaw light. The care and labor of this new venture devolved, as other ventures had done, upon the slender shoulders of this young girl. These duties were faithfully discharged as all others were during a long, eventful life. An example of her courage and bravery was furnished when during a storm the tower was found to be shaking at its foundations and climbing up she rescued the lamp and other valuables and reached the ground just as the structure fell. We cannot help but feel that this life was spared for a purpose.

In 1845 they returned to Newport, formerly Yankee Point, where they passed the succeeding twenty-two years. These years although saddened by the death of both her sisters were among the happiest and busiest of her happy and busy life. The death of the two sisters gave into the hands of Aunt Emily a family of ten over which she exercised the same kind guardianship she had previously exercised over their mothers. There was always a big family in the old house at Newport, which faced the St. Clair river and was surrounded by a garden the size of four

"This light-house was situated on Bois Blanc Island near Mackinac. It had been built too near the water and fears were entertained of its falling. The father was at Mackinac, Eber junior, on the Great Lakes and no one but Emily and Bolivar, an adopted boy, in the house and none on the island but a cowardly Frenchman and his Indian wife. At five o'clock, seeing that the lighthouse must go, Aunt Emily climbed up the one hundred and fifty steps and carried down the lamps and heavy reflectors. She made five trips, each time leaving poor Bolivar in tears, positive that she would be killed. She and the boy watched the fall of the lighthouse from the woods but their house was uninjured.-Grandmother's Stories, p. 126.

"So called from being settled by Yankees from the East.-Grandmother's Stories. p. 74.

city blocks. Freedom to develop their own individuality as well as wise restraint was found there.

Aunt Emily's mission was among children and it was a mission in which her devotion was earnest and unwearying. Many not connected with her by the ties of relationship but who were left orphaned and neglected became her foster children. "She made men and women of them." Soon the necessity for better educational facilities for her children faced her and now she began to gather golden sheaves. Eber Brock Ward, the little brother left in her charge by a dying mother, the first of a long line of little ones to receive her loving care, was by this time a prosperous business man with children of his own. Together this brother and sister built a schoolhouse for their children, equipped it with charts, globes and many other appliances which were seldom employed as aids to education in those days; it was called an academy; and higher mathematics and the various sciences required in the preparation for college were taught there. A college graduate was in charge of the school, but Aunt Emily had charge of the schoolmaster, the schoolhouse, the pupils, and was a board of education of one. This institution took the place of an ordinary high school, two district schools being the only schools in town. Others were allowed to participate in its advantages on payment of small sums, three dollars per year being charged as tuition with twenty-five cents added if the student pursued the study of languages. The present Marine City High School is on the old academy sight, Aunt Emily having donated house and grounds for that purpose on her departure from the place. The building now stands at the corner of Main and St. Clair streets, and was used for a City Hall for several years and afterward sold to the Presbyterian Synod for a Church.

From this old academy came lawyers, merchants, manufacturers, physicians, congressmen, postmaster-general and many noted men and women of affairs. One authority asserts, that six of the homeless, orphaned boys are worth ten millions to-day, one a western railroad man, two are heavy manufacturers; also that Aunt Emily wholly or in part, raised, educated, and started in life not less than twenty-nine men and women. As samples of her generosity, to one she gave fifteen thousand dollars the day he graduated from the University; to another like oppor tunities and five thousand, and to still another a fine home. A full record

'Aunt Emily said her brother Eber had the first rolling mills in the Northwest, opened the first Bessemer steel manufactory, sailed the first boat on Lake Superior, taking it overland at what she called the Sault Falls Carry, a distance of three or four miles, and was one of the first and largest business men in the Northwest. Mr. C. M. Burton says he was the richest man in Michigan at the time of his death. The contest over his will claimed the attention of lawyers and psychologists as it involved the subject of spiritualism. See Thomas M. Cooley, Sketch of David Darwin Hughes, Vol. VII., p. 513, this series; Detroit Tribune, Oct. 15, 1875; Detroit News, Oct. 16, 1875, Vol. XXI., p. 340.

of her charities was never known, even to her most intimate friends. Many whom she befriended thought her the greatest woman the country ever produced. Certainly no man of her day was so great a humanitarian.

Aside from her mission of promoting the welfare of the young, she still had energy to devote to the happiness of her friends and neighbors. While living in Marine City she was constantly sent for when people were sick and in distress, she acted as physician, nurse and counselor, was always aiding someone, and people were always seeking her advice. She was a great lover of flowers and maintained a fine flower garden from which the sick in Marine City were constant recipients.

During all this interval she was also actively engaged in industrial and financial efforts, being associated with her brother Eber Brock Ward in his business, taking the superintendency of interior finishing of a large line of freighters and passenger boats which he built for the lake trade. Aunt Emily's workshop was in the second story of the building known as the Ward general store, furnishing employment for all the women and girls of the town. The twenty-five hundred population were nearly all employed by this brother and sister. Her profits were taken in stock in the boats until she became a large vessel owner, being worth many thousand dollars. She had many offers of marriage but always said she was too busy to consider them seriously.

It is a singular fact that not one of Aunt Emily's immense family, is at present a resident of Marine City, formerly Newport, and her only monument is the Emily Ward Chapter No. 205 of the Order of Eastern Stars.

In 1867 she moved to Detroit and took charge of her brother's house, residing with him for three years. In 1870 she built a home at 807 Fort St. West and continued to live there until the time of her death. The house is still occupied by her niece Mrs. Florence Brindle Mayhew who is one of the four survivors of Aunt Emily's immediate family, the other three being Dr. Orville Owen of Detroit, Mr. T. C. Owen of Ypsilanti and Mrs. A. Aubrey of Wyandotte.

March 16th, 1887 a reception' was held at her home in Detroit to

For picture of residence of Aunt Emily, see Farmer's Hist. of Detroit, p. 403. "The following "children" at her reception testified to Aunt Emily's help to them. The first letter from the Postmaster-General's office in Washington, D. C., written by one of her boys, Don M. Dickinson, was to Aunt Emily. Dr. Orville Owen of Detroit, was called Aunt Emily's "Rosebud." Christian Otjen, a German boy, whose parents lived in St. Clair had been one of Aunt Emily's boys for some time. One day a poor, ragged, dirty boy came to her house and said "Aunt Emily you take all good children, I wish you would take me." She did and lived to see these brothers become prominent men, Theobold serving three years in Congress from Milwaukee, Wis., and Christian becoming superintendent of Bay View Rolling Mills. Ira Mayhew, a protege of hers, was Superintendent of Public Instruction from 1845-49. George Wasey, another boy, became a prominent lawyer. We have been unable to locate all of the twenty-nine said to have belonged to her family.