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each purchase, until all exchanges were effected. As each retired, another came forward in his turn till all had traded. No one desired to anticipate his turn, decorum was observed, and no attempt was made to "beat down," for, if not satisfied, another article was pointed out and named.

It is reported that Scribner not only sold the Indians tobacco, but rum, and they generally reserved some of their furs with which to procure liquor for a final frolic. The statement is made, and is probably true, that this pioneer trader supplied his savage customers with rifles, powder, lead, knives and hatchets, on the principle that if he did not others would, and he might as well have the profits. We cannot blame him for steep prices, when we consider the means of travel. His goods were hauled from Fort Washington, now Cincinnati, along Wayne's road by way of Fort Jefferson, by a yoke of oxen attached to a rough kind of sled, denominated a "mud-boat," and a trip usually occupied a period of from three to six weeks. As there was no competition, Scribner held the monopoly for several years, until the arrival of David Conner, in 1811 or 1812, when his coadjutor aspired for a portion of the trade, which at this later period partook more largely of civilized exchange.

We have said that Azor Scribner was the pioneer of Darke County, but, some six years after the treaty of Greenville, a Frenchman of unknown name established himself for a brief period upon the site of Minatown, and trafficked with the natives in exchange for his calicoes and other goods. Scribner's house was located about twenty rods from the present site of Porter's tanyard, but the date when he moved his family from Middletown, on the Miami, to Greenville is unknown, although thought to have been some time in 1808. This family consisted of his wife, Nancy Scribner, and two daughters, Sarah and Elizabeth, all of whom lived in the shanty which served at once as home and store. Sarah -or "Aunt Sally "-McKhann is prominent among the aged of to-day as the oldest living settler in Darke County.

PIONEERS-THEIR RECORD, INCIDENTS OF THE TIMES, 1808 TO 1816.

We have to deal, in this chapter, with Darke's history and its surroundings, for the brief period of eight years. When we call upon the living and question them concerning events of this interval, from the formation to the organization of the county, we find them at a loss what to say. We turn to the bound volumes of the press, garnered in the court-house, and find few allusions to this period, so momentous as the initial of settlement, the commencement of still-continued progress, and we ponder the meager particulars of these eventful years.

Within the limits of a generation, marvelous changes have swept this region. Black Hoof, Logan and Tecumseh vanished before the swelling tide of westernbound humanity, and the Shawnee was driven beyond the Mississippi. Sons and grandsons are cultivating the fields of the pioneers, whose last-surviving members totter upon the verge of dissolution. Fine farms, growing cities and enlightened society are the results of pioneer enterprise, yet the shadows of oblivion are gathering. The memories of a Rush, an Arnold and of a Wharry, will soon have lost their distinctness, and their knowledge will have gone beyond recovery.

What will be known a few years hence of Samuel Boyd, Aaron Hiller and Lemuel Rush? Of Abraham Studabaker, Briggs, Terry, Creviston, Carnahan and Devor? What of Scott, McIntyre, Thompson, Williams, Hayes, the ill-fated Rush, and a score of those whose labors broke the solitude and changed the features of the wilderness? It is no puerile task to wrest from obscurity remembrances of early events, and those connected with them. The student of vital statistics stand amazed at the mortality of our older citizens during these last few years. Familiar faces are sought upon our streets and at their homes, in vain. The harvester has gathered the pioneers; a few yet remain as the gleanings, even as some fruit clings to the branches when the time of the vintage is past. These

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are the veteran survivors of battles with nature's obstacles; the aged witnesses of strange mutations. History knows of no worthier theme than that of those pioneers in a primeval forest, by whose toil the forests fell; at whose will the heavy, dark woods gave way to fields of grain, log cabins and initial industries. Where malignant fevers and pestilential miasma crouched and hovered among the swamps, one sees the well-tilled fields, the useful drain, the lasting pike. Pioneers of Miami, men fearless of heart and experienced in the settlements, saw with concern the rude outfits of the early settlers of Darke, as they pushed slowly on and disappeared in the heavy forests and ague-haunted swamps of that region.

People did not move by steam and car in those days, no, nor for many years later; as late as 1839, the family of J. S. Patterson plodded their slow march for four hundred miles, their goods upon a road wagon, drawn by three horses. All along the way, the inquiry was made of them : "Where are you from and where are you going?" They had traveled a long way in Ohio before any one was found who knew that there was a Darke County in the State. They insisted that it must be Stark County or Clarke County that was meant. But, after they had left these counties in the rear, and had only two or three days' travel to make, there were found some unusually well-informed people, who knew where Darke County was, and they knew it mainly by its bad reputation. They said: "Don't go there for God's sake; you'll all die with the milk sickness," and if travel and report were so adverse, at this comparatively recent period, what must it have been when, during the winter of 1807-08, Samuel C. Boyd moved in and settled on Section 14, Greenville Township? Upon a small stream heading about two miles north of Greenville, and tributary to the Stillwater, near Beamsville, Boyd concluded to remain. He is notable as the first white man who, accompanied by a family, made a home within the limits of the county. The farm first known to occupation as the residence of this pioneer is that later owned by William Cunningham, and in 1879, by George Manix. The creek perpetuates his name as Boyd's Creek, and brief remembrances tell the following: He went to work and built a house, near where the railroad crosses the Gettysburg pike. How he got the timber in place and who came to his assistance is conjectural. Perhaps Scribner and a party of his Indian customers lent a helping hand, friends may have come with him and then returned, or, as is most probable, his wife may have rendered what aid she could, and he had the energy and ability to erect it himself.

Subsequent to this, Boyd entered a tract of land on Boyd's Run, between the farms afterward owned by James Buchanan on the south and Barnett's on the north. He was at work on this place clearing off a site for a house, when some one came along and reported the murder of Rush by Indians. At the solicitation of Abraham Studabaker, who, in 1808, had located on the east side of Greenville Creek, and had built a block-house there, through distrust of the Indians, Mr. Boyd was induced to remove to this refuge, with his family, where they remained but a short time. The ceaseless dread of violence hung like a threatening cloud over their minds, and they returned to Warren County, where they remained until the close of the war, when they once more returned to occupy and improve their land on the run. Prior to their removal, on one occasion, while Mr. Boyd was absent from home at night, the fierce barking of a dog led the family to think that Indians were prowling around, and Mrs. Boyd, in quiet, cautioning the children against noise, left the house with them and secreted herself and children in a pile of brush, and there passed the hours till morning. Mrs. Martin, then known as Dorcas Boyd, says that she remembers playing with the Wilson girls, who, as we shall learn more in detail, were killed by the Indians, and relates that a brother of the girls, pursued by savages, treed, thrust his hat, placed on the muzzle of his gun, cautiously to one side of the tree, as though peering out, drew the fire of his pursuers, and while they stopped to reload, made good his escape.

During the war of 1812, several incidents occurred in and about Greenville, which at that early day seemed naturally to be fitted for a county seat. The

greater number of Indians who remained friendly, who claimed and received protection from the United States, were located at Piqua, and placed in charge of Col. Johnston. There were the Shawnees, Delawares, Munseys, Mohicans, and portions of the Wyandots, Ottawas and Senecas. There were at one time assembled here full six thousand; and far from being a source of danger, they were the best possible protection to the frontier while they were friendly. Johnston was beloved of them, their known friend and a man of approved courage. Several attempts were made to kill him in hopes of securing the strong body of savages for British assistance. Friendly chiefs warned him of danger. His family, save his wife, who stayed by him, and all his papers and effects of value, were removed for security, while he remained at his post. Various efforts, all foiled, were made to effect his death. Madison, then President, disdained to employ Indians in warfare, from a high sense of honor and noble principle, in striking contrast with his cruel and mercenary antagonist, and thereby suffered those reverses which befell our arms in the North. White flags with mottoes were supplied to parties of the Indians wishing to pass scouts and outposts in safety. The hatred to Indians in general, regardless of their feelings to the whites, was such that but for prudent action these Indians would have been driven to retaliate unprovoked injuries.

At one time, a party of whites discharged a murderous volley into the midst of a body of Indians, approaching them with the utmost confidence, bearing a flag in full view. Two Indians fell dead, a third was wounded, and the rest were taken captive, robbed of everything they possessed and taken to Greenville, where a post had been established, and to which these cowardly assassins belonged. Conscience has ever made cowards of men, and the garrison at Greenville, alarmed at the possible consequences of their cruel action, brought their prisoners to Upper Piqua, and delivered them to Col. Johnston. That officer decided to conduct them back to Greenville, and there to restore them to their property and to their people. The officer commanding the post at Piqua was asked for a guard to the Indians, but neither himself nor any of his men dared to go. Johnston then decided to make the journey himself, to prevent evil effects among the Indians. Mounting his horse, he bade his wife farewell, and made the journey to Greenville in safety. The articles taken from the Indians were returned to them, a speech of conciliation and disavowal made, and then the Colonel rode home alone.

PERSONAL REMINISCENCES.

The Rush brothers, James, Henry and Andrew, with their brother-in-law, Hiller, and Henry Creviston came to Darke in 1810, from the Pickaway Plains, and settled near Greenville, where they remained till the spring of 1812, when the following occurrences took place :

All were steadily at work, preparing the ground for a crop of corn, and each day saw some improvement upon that preceding. Indians were camped all through the woods and passed the greater part of their time in hunting. It will be remembered that this was the spring succeeding the battle of Tippecanoe, where, as is well known, the Indians attempting to surprise the camp of Gen. Harrison were signally defeated. There was one Indian of those ranging the woods near the creek, who was lame as if wounded, and who gave himself the name of Simon Girty, but whether hostile or not, little attention was paid to him or the others. The people were attending busily to their necessary labors. Some employed the spring days of 1812 in clearing their land, some were busy tapping the sugar maples, boiling the sap and making syrup and sugar, and so were engaged about the 1st of April, when indefinite reports were circulated of Indian hostility and consequent danger to the settlers. A trader up at Fort Recovery was reported to have been killed by his partner, while some said he met his death from the Indians. The incident created no alarm, and matters proceeded as usual till one day the Rush brothers, making a journey on horseback to Fort Recovery,

passed on their way a number of camps whose occupants, manifesting a friendly feeling, lulled apprehension, and the settlers, easily quieted, went about their daily labors.

About the 28th of April, Andrew Rush started for a little mill which had been built on Greenville Creek, a few rods above where the Beamsville road to Greenville makes a crossing. He got his grist and set out to return home. On his way he stopped to make a call on Daniel Potter, who, with Isaac Vail, was occupying each his own end of a double log house, which stood between the present residence of Moses Potter and the creek.

These two settlers from some cause had become fearful of trouble, and had gone down the Miami for assistance to take back their families to their former homes. Mrs. Potter asked Rush if he were not afraid of the Indians, and he put his hand through his hair and replied, jokingly, “No; I had my wife cut my hair this morning, so short that they could not get my scalp off." Sometime about 4 P. M., he left for home, and had proceeded not half a mile when he was shot from his horse, tomahawked and his scalp taken.

Uneasiness was felt because of his not returning home, but all the next day forenoon rain fell steadily, and it was thought he might have stayed with a settler, but in the afternoon Hiller's oldest son and Rush's brother-in-law took a horse and set out to look for him. The boys followed the track made by Rush to Greenville Creek, just above Spiece Mill, and there found the body lying on the sack of meal, mutilated as described. They went hurriedly on to Potter's, and the settler who had returned mounted the horse and set out to spread an alarm. The boys crossed to the cabin of Thomas McGinnis, on Mud Creek, but he had heard the news and had departed. At the next house the inmates had also gone, and, running forward to the third cabin, they found it, too, silent, deserted and the door partly open. Hiller took a look within to see how matters were, and saw that the house had been left in haste and little, if anything, had been removed.

They then hastened to the cabin of Henry Rush, and it was abandoned. The truth was evident, that a panic had seized upon all, and they had fled for their lives.

Darkness surrounded the boys as they made their way through the woods to the cabin of James Rush, where the settlers had assembled their families, and were preparing to meet an expected attack. Just before the arrival of the boys, James Rush had set out on horseback to reconnoiter how things were.

Arriving at the house of Peter Rush, he there found the hunter, Henry Creviston, who had passed the day in the woods, and now the three men, accompanied by the wife of Peter, went to the home of Andrew, where John S. Hiller, son of Aaron, was passing the night. The sad news was soon known to all, and the party set out for Mr. Hiller's. It was well that the Indians did not attack the family, as they were helpless. Mrs. Hiller had not walked a step for years, and there were five children here too small to travel alone. The reader cannot imagine the terror of the time-the gloomy uncertainty. About 9 P. M., the sky cleared of clouds, the moon rose and James Rush mounted his horse, took up Peter's wife behind him and went home for help to remove the women and children.

gun.

None of the men could be spared, as they expected to be attacked before daylight, but the two boys, above named, returned with two more horses and a All started for the fort, as it was afterward called, at about 2 A. M., and got in safe at daylight. The men were busy all this day putting the cabin in a state for defense, while the body of the murdered man still lay where it had fallen, and the panic was at its height.

A man named Sumption, about sixty years of age, set off alone, gun in hand, to Troy, Miami County, and reached there by daylight. Another man went to Lexington, Preble County, the same night. The next evening, a company of men reached old Fort Greenville, and late at night another company came up and went into camp on the east side of Mud Creek. In the morning, the Preble County

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men moved out on the road to the body of Rush and gave it burial. pushed for the new block-house where seven families had gathered for safety.

Part of the relief remained at Rush Fort some time, and arrangements having been made, the women and children were escorted back to the older settlements for security. The Rush families returned to Pickaway County, and Hiller moved his family to Piqua, Miami County, about the middle of May.

At this time, there was but one family at what was then called old Fort Greenville, and this that of Mrs. Armstrong. Across the creek stood the cabin of Scribner and at the fort could be seen portions of the pickets set by Wayne's men, and a gibbet built by his orders was yet standing.

The experience of Abraham Studabaker, as detailed in township history, was hard enough, but he did not retire from his land. He moved in 1795, from Pennsylvania to Scioto County, Ohio, thence he went to Warren, and, in 1808, came to Darke and built his first cabin on Congress land, near the present site of Gettysburg. He thought it prudent to erect a block-house on his premises and adopted toward his many Indian visitors a policy of kindness. No hungry Indian tramp went unfed from his door. Though somewhat of a tax on his resources, yet it enabled him safely to remain upon and improve his land.

Previous to the battle of Tippecanoe, a cowardly attack was made upon a Miami Indian, coming to Greenville with his family for supplies. The particulars are fully given by J. Wharry in a previous chapter. Such was the effect of this attack upon the Indian mind, that before 10 o'clock next morning Fort Meigs, a hundred miles distant, was surrounded by 2,000 enraged savages. Brooding upon defeat, driven from their ancient homes, and incited by the English, the cause of one tribe was espoused by almost the entire number of the Northwest Indian tribes, and from that time until the victory of Harrison, and the defeat of Tecumseh and Gen. Proctor, at the Fallen Timber, in Upper Canada, the settlers on the frontier were only preserved from "the terror by night, and the dread by day." through the exercise of the most unremitting watchfulness. In addition to the Indian troubles, the war of 1812 increased the jeopardy to life in the scattered homes of the pioneers. It should have been enough for families to brave the loneliness and hardships of the wilderness without the constant apprehension of murderous surprise, torture, or the tomahawk and knife.

While, as we have said, a large body of Indians had assembled at Piqua, there were in the woods many who needed little urging to again dig up the hatchet. The wholesome dread of Wayne had lessened with time, and the solicitations and bribes of the English were not altogether ineffectual. The account given of murders on either side show the smoldering fires which were likely at a moment to be fanned into a blaze, and explain the singular panics which drove back the picket lines of settlement upon the heavier bodies. A new race had come to maturity, and their warm blood excited the Indians to open hostility. We know that Tecumseh remained for a time after being ordered to leave, and finally moving from his camp on Mud Creek, he led his warriors bravely, but in vain, as an ally of the British, in hopes to drive the whites from the fertile valleys of the Ohio and the Mississippi. This alliance was on one account a fortunate one for the pioneers of Darke County, as it removed the seat of war to distant points. No battle or other important event occurred in this county during the war, although small parties of hostiles were continually prowling about, keeping up the alarm and now and then securing a scalp.

We have spoken of Rush and Studabaker's block-houses, and there were garrisons at Jefferson and Greenville, beside a fortified house on the banks of Stillwater, in Richland Township, on Section 34, near the cemetery. One other tragic event recalls the earlier day, the murder of the Wilson girls, in July, 1812. Two children, daughters of William Wilson, residing near Minatown, were out one day gathering wild berries between their home and the creek, when they were set upon and killed. It appeared as if their heads had been dashed against a tree, and their

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