MERCER COUNTY
Pg. 222
Mercer County was formed from old Indian Territory April 1, 1820. The land is one great flat plain, and while in the forest state wet, when cleared and drained is very fertile and well adapted to grass, small grain and Indian corn, which is its great production. Area about 470 square miles. In 1887 the acres cultivated were 140,633; in pasture, 12,023; woodland, 73,384; lying waste, 4,154; produced in wheat, 364,235 bushels; rye, 2,733; buckwheat, 667; oats, 632,537; barley, 12,881; corn, 1,287,610; meadow hay, 15,343 tons; clover hay, 8,334; flaxseed, 726 bushels; potatoes, 51,636; tobacco, 1,000 lbs.; butter, 415,750; cheese, 150; sorghum, 14,110 gallons; maple syrup, 121; honey 4,806 lbs; eggs 634,737 dozen; grapes, 8,300 lbs.; wine, 1,387 gallons; sweet potatoes, 42 bushels; apples, 14,558; peaches, 20; pears, 145; wool, 29,184 lbs.; milch cows owned, 6,931.—Ohio State Report, 1888.
School census, 1888, 9,269; teachers, 183. Miles of railroad track, 86.
Townships And Census |
1840 |
1880 |
Township And Census |
1840 |
1880 |
Black Creek, |
340 |
1,441 |
Jefferson, |
368 |
2,406 |
Butler, |
178 |
1,595 |
Liberty, |
|
1,196 |
Centre, |
1,059 |
1,456 |
Marion, |
1,141 |
1,933 |
Dublin, |
705 |
2,027 |
Recovery, |
298 |
1,272 |
Franklin, |
|
1,015 |
Salem, |
579 |
1,820 |
German, |
1,499 |
|
St. Mary’s |
1,515 |
|
Gibson, |
|
1,462 |
Union, |
566 |
|
Granville, |
339 |
1,616 |
Washington, |
214 |
1,384 |
Hopewell, |
|
1,185 |
Wayne, |
377 |
|
Population of Mercer in 1830, 1,737; 1840, 8,277; 1860, 14,104; 1880, 21,808, of whom 17,882 were born in Ohio; 586, Indiana; 451, Pennsylvania; 154, Virginia; 93, Kentucky; 87, New York; 1,733, German Empire; 105, Ireland; 62, France; 42, England and Wales; 27, British America, and 19 in Scotland. Census, 1890, 27,220.
This county was named from General Hugh Mercer, who fell at the battle of Princeton, fought January 3, 1777. He was born in the city of Aberdeen, Scotland, about the year 1720; he was educated there at the University; he held the position of assistant surgeon in the army of Prince Charles Edward in the year 1745; in 1747 settled near what is now Mercersburg, Pa.; was wounded in Braddock’s expedition; at the outbreak of the Revolution was practising medicine at Fredericksburg, Va.; in 1776, by request of Washington, was made brigadier-general; led the column of attack at Trenton; while rallying his men at Princeton was felled by a
Pg. 223
blow from a musket, and, refusing to surrender, was bayonetted five times, and died some days afterwards in great agony. His funeral in the city of Philadelphia was attended by 30,000 people. Congress provided for the education of his youngest son, and the St. Andrew’s Society of Philadelphia reared to his memory a monument on Laurel Hill.
St. Clair’s Defeat.
This county has been the theatre of a most important event in the early history of the West—St. Clair’s defeat. It took place on the southwest corner of the county, within two or three miles of the Indiana line.
The great object of St. Clair’s campaign was to establish a military post at the Miami village, at the junction of the St. Mary and St. Joseph, at what is now Fort Wayne, Ind., with intermediate posts of communication between it and Fort Washington, to awe and curb the Indians in that quarter, as the only preventive of future hostilities.
Acting under his instructions, St. Clair proceeded to organize his army. At the close of April (1791) he was at Pittsburg, to which point troops and munitions of war were being forwarded. On the 15th of May he reached Fort Washington, but owing to various hindrances, among which was the mismanagement of the quartermaster’s department, the troops, instead of being in readiness to start upon the expedition by the 1st of August, as was anticipated, were not prepared until many weeks later. From Fort Washington the troops were advanced to Ludlow’s station, six miles distant. Here the army continued until September 17th, when, being 2,300 strong, exclusive of militia, they moved forward to a point upon the Great Miami, where they built Fort Hamilton. From thence they moved forty-four miles farther, and built Fort Jefferson, which they left on the 24th of October, and began their toilsome march through the wilderness. We copy below from the notes of Judge Burnet:
During this time a body of the
militia, amounting to
300, deserted and returned to their homes.
The supplies for the army being still in the rear, and the
general
entertaining fears that the deserters might meet and seize them for
their own
use, determined, very reluctantly, to send back the first regiment for
the
double purpose of bringing up the provisions and, if possible, or
overtaking
and arresting some of the deserters.
Having made that arrangement, the
army resumed its
march, and, on the 3d of November, arrived at a creek running to the
southwest,
which was supposed to be the St. Mary’s, one of the principal
branches of the
Maumee, but was afterwards ascertained to be a branch of the Wabash. It being then late in the
afternoon, and the
army much fatigued by a laborious march, they were encamped on a
commanding
piece of ground, having the creek in front.
It was the intention of the general
to occupy that
position till the first regiment, with the provisions, should come up. He proposed on the next
day to commence a
work of defence,
agreeably to a plan concerted
between himself and Major Ferguson, but he was not permitted to do
either; for,
on the next morning, November 4th, half an hour
before sunrise, the
men having been just dismissed from parade, an attack was made on the
militia
posted in front, who gave way and rushed back into camp, throwing the
army into
a state of disorder, from which it could not be recovered, as the
Indians
followed close at their heels. They
were, however, checked a short time by the fire of the first line, but
immediately a very heavy fire was commenced on that line, and in a few
minutes
it was extended to the second.
In each case the great weight of
the fire was directed
to the centre, where the artillery was placed, from which the men were
frequently driven with great slaughter.
In that emergency resort was had to the bayonet. Colonel Darke was
ordered to make the charge with a part of the second line, which order
was
executed with great spirit. The Indians instantly gave
way, and were
driven back several hundred yards, but for want of a sufficient number
of
riflemen to preserve the advantage gained, the enemy soon renewed their
attack,
and the American troops in turn were forced to give way.
At that instant the Indians entered
the American camp
on the left, having forced back the troops stationed at that point. Another charge was then
ordered and made by
the battalions of Majors Butler and Clark with great success. Several other charges were
afterwards made,
and always with equal effect. These
attacks, however, were attended with a heavy lost of men, and
particularly of
officers. In the
charge made by the
second regiment Major Butler was dangerously wounded, and every officer
of that
regiment
Pg. 224
fell, except three, one of whom was
shot through the
body. The artillery
being silenced, and
all the officers belonging to it killed, but Captain Ford, who was
dangerously
wounded, and half the army having fallen, it became necessary to gain
the road,
if possible, and make a retreat.
For that purpose a successful
charge was made on the
enemy, as if to turn their right flank, but in reality to gain the
road, which
was effected. The
militia then commenced
a retreat, followed by the United States troops, Major Clark with his
battalion
covering the rear. The
retreat, as might
be expected, soon became a flight.
The
camp was abandoned, and so was the artillery, for the want of horses to
remove
it. The men threw
away their arms and
accoutrements, even after the pursuit had ceased, which was not
continued for
more than four miles. The
road was
almost covered with these articles for a great distance.
All the horses of the general were
killed and he was
mounted on a broken-down pack-horse that could scarcely be forced out
of a
walk. It was,
therefore, impossible for
him to get forward in person, to command a halt, till regularity could
be
restored, and the orders which he dispatched by others for that purpose
where
wholly unattended to. The
rout continued
to Fort Jefferson, where they arrived about dark, twenty-seven miles
from the
battle-ground. The
retreat began at
half-past nine in the morning, and as the battle commenced half an hour
before
sunrise, it mush have lasted three hours, during which time, with only
one
exception, the troops behaved with great bravery.
This fact accounts for the immense slaughter
which took place.
Among the killed were Major-General
Butler, Colonel
Oldham, Major Ferguson, Major Hart and Major Clark.
Among the wounded were Colonel Sargeant,
the adjutant-general, Colonel Darke,
Colonel Gibson, Major Butler and Viscount Malartie,
who served in the character of an aid.
In addition to these, the list of officers killed
contained the names of
Captains Bradford, Phelon,
Kirkwood, Price, Van
Swearingen, Tipton, Purdy, Smith, Piatt, Gaither, Crebbs
and Newman; Lieutenants Spear, Warren, Boyd, McMath,
Burgess, Kelson, Read,
Little, Hopper and Lickings;
also, Ensigns Cobb, Baleh,
Chase, Turner, Wilson,
Brooks, Beatty and Purdy; also, Quartermasters Reynolds and Ward, Adjt. Anderson and Doc. Grasson.
And in addition to the wounded officers whose
names are mentioned above the official list contains the names of
Captains
Doyle, Truman, Ford, Buchanan, Darke,
and Hough; also
of Lieutenants Greaton,
Davidson, DeButts,
Price, Morgan, McCrea, Lysle
and Thompson; also
Adjutants Whistler and Crawford, and Ensign Bines.
The melancholy result of that
disastrous day was felt
and lamented by all who had sympathy for private distress or public
misfortune.
The only charge alleged by the
general against his
army was want of discipline, which they could not have acquired during
the
short time they had been in the service.
That defect rendered it impossible, when they were thrown
into confusion
to restore them again to order, and is the chief reason why the loss
fell so
heavily on the officers. They
were
compelled to expose themselves in an unusual degree in their efforts to
rally
the men and remedy the want of discipline.
In that duty the general set the example, though worn down
by sickness
and suffering under a painful disease.
It was alleged by the officers that the Indians far
outnumbered the
American troops. That
conclusion was
drawn, in part, from the fact that they outflanked and attacked the
American
lines with great force, at the same time, on every side.
When the fugitives arrived at Fort
Jefferson, they
found the first regiment, which was just returning from the service on
which it
had been sent, without either overtaking the deserters or meeting the
convoy of
provision. The
absence of that regiment
at the time of the battle was believed by some to be the cause of the
defeat. They
supposed that had it been
present the Indians would have been defeated, or would not have
ventured an attack
at the time they made it; but General St. Clair expressed great doubt
on that
subject. He seemed
to think it
uncertain, judging from the superior number of the enemy, whether he
ought to
consider the absence of that corps from the field of action as
fortunate or
otherwise. On the
whole, he seemed to
think it fortunate, as he very much doubted whether, if it had been in
the
action, the fortune of the day would have been changed; and if it had
not, the
triumph of the enemy would have been more complete, and the country
would have
been left destitute of the means of defence.
As soon as the troops reached Fort
Jefferson, it
became a question whether they ought to continue at that place of
return to
Fort Washington. For
the purpose of
determining that question, the general called on the surviving field
officers,
to wit: Col. Darke,
Major Hamtramck, Maj. Zeigler,
and Maj. Gaither, and also the Adjutant-General, Col. Sargeant,
for their advice, as to what would be the proper course to be pursued
under existing
circumstances. After
discussing the
subject they reported it to be their unanimous opinion, that the troops
could
not be accommodated in the fort; that they could not be supplied with
provisions at that place; and as it was known that there were provision
on the
road, at the distance of one or two marches, it would be proper,
without loss
of time, to proceed and meet them.
That
advice was adopted, and the army put in motion at ten o’clock
and marched all
night. On the
succeeding day they met a
quantity of flour, and on the day after a drove of cattle, which having
been
disposed of as the wants of the troops required, the march was
continued to
Fort Washington.
The loss sustained by the country
from the fall of so
many gallant officers and men was most seriously regretted. Gen. Butler and
Pg. 225
Maj. Ferguson were spoken of
with peculiar interest. The
public
feeling was, however, in some measure alleviated by the fact that those
brave
men, officers and privates, fell covered with honor, in defending the
cause of
their country.
The principal complaint made by the
commander-in-chief
was, that some of his orders, of great consequence, given to Col.
Oldham over
night, were not executed; and that some very material intelligence,
communicated by Capt. Hough to Gen. Butler, in the course of the night
before
the action, was not imparted to him; and that he did not hear of it
till his
arrival at Fort Washington.
It is important to the fame of the
commanding general
that in consequence of the almost treasonable negligence of the agents
of the
government, whose duty it was to furnish supplies, the army had been
for many
days on short allowance, and were
so at the time of
the battle. That
fact had made it
indispensably necessary either to retreat or send back the first
regiment,
which was the flower of the army, to bring up the provisions and
military
stores. The latter
alternative was
chosen, and in the absence of that corps the attack was made.
In regard to the negligence charged
on the War
Department, it is a well-authenticated fact, that boxes and packages
were so
carelessly put up and marked, that during the action a box was opened
marked
“flints,” which was found to contain gun-locks.
Several mistakes of the same character were discovered as
for example, a
keg of powder marked “for the infantry” was found
to be damaged canon-powder, that
could scarcely be ignited.
Under all these disadvantages it
was generally
believed by candid, intelligent men that the commanding general was not
justly
liable to much censure, if any. With
one
exception, at the commencement of the action, the troops behaved with
great
bravery. They maintained
their ground for three tedious hours, in one uninterrupted conflict
with a
superior force; nor did they attempt to leave the field till it was
covered
with the bodies of their companions, not until further efforts were
unavailing
and a retreat was ordered.
The general, less anxious for himself
than for others, was the last to leave the ground after the retreat had
been
ordered. For some
time after the
disaster he was universally censured, but when a thorough investigation
had
been made by a committee of Congress, of which Mr. Giles, of Virginia,
was the
chairman, it was found that the campaign had been conducted with skill
and
personal bravery; and that the defeat was chiefly owing to the want of
discipline in the militia, and to the negligence of those whose duty it
was to
procure and forward the provisions and military stores necessary for
the
expedition.
After the publication of that
report, the Secretary of
War, believing himself to be injured, addressed a letter to Congress,
complaining that injustice had been done him by the committee; in
consequence
of which the report was recommitted to the same committee, who, after
hearing
the statements and explanations of the Secretary and reconsidering the
whole
matter, reaffirmed their first report.
This defeat of St. Clair drew upon his head, from one part of the country to the other “one loud and merciless outcry of abuse and even detestation.” Many a general, with far less bravery and military skill, has, when successful, been applauded by the unthinking multitude with vehement acclamations. The following, derived from the narrative of his campaign, shows that he deserved a better fate:
During the engagement Gen. St.
Clair and Gen. Butler
were continually going up and down the lines; as one went up one, the
other
went down the opposite. St.
Clair was so severely
afflicted with the gout as to be unable to mount
or dismount a horse without assistance.
He had four horses for his use; they had been turned out
to feed over
night and were brought in before the action.
The first he attempted to mount was a young horse, and the
firing
alarmed him so much that he was unable to accomplish it, although there
were
three or four people assisting him.
He
had just moved him to a place where he could have some advantage of the
ground,
when the horse was shot through the head, and the boy holding him
through the
arm. A second horse
was brought and the
furniture of the first disengaged and put on him; but at the moment it
was done
the horse and servant who held him were killed.
The general ordered the third horse to be got ready and
follow him to
the left of the front line, which by that time was warmly engaged, and
set off
on foot to the point designated.
However, the man and horse were never heard of afterward,
and were
supposed to have both been killed.
Gen.
St. Clair’s fourth horse was killed under the Count de Malartie,
one of his aids, whose horse had died on the march.
On the day of the battle St. Clair
was not in his
uniform, he wore a coarse cappo
coat and a
three-cornered hat. He
had a long queue
and large locks, very gray, flowing beneath his beaver.
Early in the action, when near the artillery,
a ball grazed the side of his face and cut off a portion of one of his
locks. It is said
that during the action
eight balls passed through his clothes and hat.
After.
Pg. 226
his horses were killed he exerted
himself on foot for a considerable
time during the action with a degree of alertness that surprised
everybody who
saw him. After
being on foot some time,
and when nearly exhausted, a pack horse was brought to
him. This he rode
during the remainder
of the day, although he could scarcely prick him out of a walk. Had he not been furnished
with a horse,
although unhurt, he must have remained on the field.
During the action Gen. St. Clair
exerted himself with
courage and presence of mind worthy of the best fortune. He was personally present
at the first charge
made upon the enemy with the bayonet and gave the order to Col. Darke.
When the
enemy first entered the camp by the left flank, he led the troops that
drove
them back, and when a retreat became indispensable, he put himself at
the head
of the troops which broke through the enemy and opened the way for the
rest and
then remained in the rear, making every exertion in his power to obtain
a party
to cover the retreat; but the panic was so great that his exertions
were of but
little avail. In
the height of the
action a few of the men crowded around the fires in the centre of the
camp. St. Clair was
seen drawing his
pistols and threatening some of them, and ordering them to turn out and
repel
the enemy.
Fowler’s
Story of the Battle.
In commenting upon his honorable acquittal of all blame by the committee of Congress appointed to inquire into the causes of the failure of the expedition, Judge Marshall, in his Life of Washington, remarks, with his usual felicity of manner, “More satisfactory testimony in favor of St. Clair is furnished by the circumstance that he still retained the undiminished esteem and good opinion of President Washington.”
To the foregoing description of the battle we extracted from the narrative of Major Jacob Fowler, now (1846) living in Covington, Ky., his own personal experience in the events of that fatal day. Mr. Cist, in his Advertiser, in which it was published, says: “There was hardly a battle fought in the early struggles with the Indians in which Mr. Fowler did not participate. He is now (July, 1844) at the age of eighty—his eye has not waxed dim, nor his natural force abated. He can still pick off a squirrel with his rifle at one hundred yards distance. He can walk as firmly and as fast as most men at fifty, and I cannot perceive a gray hair in his head. His mind and memory are as vigorous as his physical functions.”
Excepting in a single instance, St.
Clair kept out no
scouting parties during his march, and we should have been completely
surprised
by the attack when it was made, if it had not been that volunteer
scouting
parties from the militia were out on the evening before and the
constant
discharge of rifles throughout the night warned us to prepare for the
event. The militia
were encamped about a quarter of
a mile in front of the residue of the army, so as to receive, as they
did, the
first shock of the attack, which was made a little after daybreak. The camp was on the bank
of a small creek,
one of the heads of the Wabash river,
the ground
nearly level and covered with a heavy growth of timber.
As surveyor, I drew the pay and rations of a
subaltern, but, as an old hunter, was not disposed to trust myself
among the
Indians without my rifle. Indeed,
I
found it very serviceable during the march, the army being upon not
more than
half rations the whole campaign.
My stock of bullets becoming pretty
low from hunting,
as soon as it was daylight that morning I started for the militia camp
to get a
ladle for running some more, when I found that the battle had begun,
and met
the militia running in to the main body of troops.
I hailed one of the Kentuckians, who I found
had been disabled in the right wrist by a bullet, asking him if he had
balls to
spare. He told me
to take out his pouch
and divide with him. I
poured out a
double handful and put back what I supposed way the half, and was about
to
leave him, when he said, “Stop, you had better count
them.” It
was no time for laughing, but I could
hardly resist the impulse to laugh, the idea was so ludicrous of
counting a
handful of bullets when they were about to be so plenty as to be had
for the
picking up by those who should be lucky enough to escape with their
lives. “If
we get through this day’s scrape, my dear
fellow,” said I, “I will return to you twice as
many.” But
I never saw him again, and suppose he
shared the fate that befell many a gallant spirit on that day. I owe the bullets, at any
rate, at this
moment.
On returning to the lines I found
the engagement
begun. One of Capt.
Piatt’s
men lay near the spot I had left, shot through the belly. I saw an Indian behind a
small tree, not
twenty steps off, just outside the regular lines.
He was loading his piece, squatting down as
much as possible to screen himself.
I
drew sigh at his butt and shot him through; he dropped, and as soon as
I
Pg. 227
had fired I retreated into our lines
to reload my
rifle. Finding the
fire had really
ceased at this point, I ran to the rear line, where I met Col. Darke leading his men to a
charge. These were
of the six months levies. I
followed with my rifle. The
Indians were driven by this movement
clear out of sight, and the colonel called a halt and rallied his men,
who were
about three hundred in number. As
an
experienced woodsman and hunter, I claimed the privilege of suggesting
to the
colonel that were we then stood—there being a pile of trees
blown out of
root—would form an excellent breastwork, being of length
sufficient to protect
the whole force, and that we might yet need it; I judged by the
shouting and
firing that the Indians behind us had closed up the gap we had made in
charging, and told the colonel so.
“Now,
if we return and charge on these Indians on our rear, we shall have
them with
their backs on us, and will no doubt be able to give a good account of
them.”
“Lead the way,
then,” said he, and rode to the rear to
march the whole body forward. We
then
charged on the Indians, but they were so thick we could do nothing with
them. In a few
minutes they were around
us and we found ourselves alongside of the army baggage and the
artillery,
which they had been taking possession of.
I then took a tree and after firing twelve or fourteen
times, two or
three rods being my farthest shot, I discovered that many of those I
had struck
were not brought down, as I had not sufficient experience to know I
must shoot
them in the hip to bring them down.
As
to the regulars, with their muskets, and in their unprotected state, it
was
little better than firing at random.
By this time there were about
thirty men of Col. Darke’s
command left standing, the rest being all shot down
and lying around us, either killed or wounded.
I ran to the colonel, who was in the thickest of it,
waving his sword to
encourage his men, and told him we should all be down in five minutes
more if
we did not charge on them. “Charge,
then!” said he to the little line that remained, and they did
so. Fortunately,
the army had charged on the
other side at the same time, which put the Indians, for the moment, to
flight. I had been
partially sheltered
by a small tree, but a couple of Indians, who had taken a larger one,
both
fired at me once, and felling the steam of their guns at my belly, I
supposed
myself cut to pieces. But
no harm had
been done, and I brought my piece to my side and fired, without aiming
at the
one that stood his ground, the fellow being so close to me that I could
hardly
miss him. I shot
him through the hips,
and while he was crawling way on all fours Col. Darke,
who had dismounted and stood close by me, made at him with his sword
and struck
his head off. By
this time the cock of
my riflelock had worn
loose and gave me much trouble;
meeting with an acquaintance from Cincinnati, named McClure, who had no
gun of
his own, but picked up one from a militia man, I told him my difficulty. “There is a
first-rate rifle,” said he,
pointing to one at a distance. I
ran and
got it, having ascertained that my bullets would fit it.
Here I met Captain J. S. Gano,
who was unarmed, and handing to him the rifle I went into battle with,
I
observed to him that we were defeated, and would have to make our own
escape as
speedily as possible; that if we got off, we should need the rifles for
subsistence in the woods. The
battle
still raged, and at one spot might be seen a party of soldiers gathered
together, having nothing to do but present mere marks for the enemy. They appeared stupefied
and bewildered with
the danger. At
another spot the soldiers
had broken into the marquees of the officers, eating the breakfast from
which
those had been called into the battle.
It must be remembered that neither officers nor men had
eaten anything
the whole morning. Some
of the men were
shot down in the very act of eating.
Just where I stood there were no Indians visible, although
their
rifle-balls were striking all around.
At
last I saw an Indian break for a tree about forty yards off, behind
which he
leaded and fired four times, bringing down his man at every fire, and
with such
quickness as to give me no chance to take sight in the intervals of his
firing. At length I
got a range of two
inches inside his backbone, and blazed away; down he fell, and I saw no
more of
him.
A
short time after I heard the cry
given by St. Clair and his adjutant-sergeant to charge to the road,
which was
accordingly done.
I ran across the army to where I had left my
relative, Captain Piatt, and told him that the army was broken up and
in full
retreat. “Don’t
say so,” he replied:
“you will discourage my men, and I can’t believe
it.” I
persisted a short time, when, finding him
obstinate, I said, “If you will rush on your fate, in
God’s name do it.”
I then ran off towards the rear of the army,
which was making off rapidly.
Piatt called after me, saying
“Wait for me.”
It was of no use to stop, for by this time
the savages were in full chase and hardly twenty yards behind me. Being uncommonly active in
those days, I soon
got from the rear to front of the troops, although I had great trouble
to avoid
the bayonets which the men had thrown off in the retreat, with the
sharp points
towards their pursuers.
It has been stated that the Indians
followed us thirty
miles; but this is not true, and my duty as surveyor having led me to
mark the
miles every day as we proceeded on our march out, it was easy to
ascertain how
far we were pursued. The
Indians, after
every other fire, fell back to lead their rifles, and gained lost time
by
running on afresh.
Even during the last charge of
Colonel Darke, the
bodies of the dead and dying were around us, and
the freshly-scalped heads were reeking with smoke, and in the heavy
morning
frost looked like so many pumpkins through a cornfield in December. It was on the 4th
of November, and
the day was severely cold for the season.
My fingers became so
Pg. 228
benumbed at times that I had to take the
bullets in my mouth
and load from it, while I had the wiping-stick in my hand to force them
down.
PLAN OF ST. CLAIR’S
BATTLE-FIELD.
References.—A. High ground, on which the militia were encamped at the commencement of the action. B. C. Encampment of the main army. D. Retreat of the militia at the beginning of the battle. E. St. Clair’s trace, on which the defeated army retreated. F. Place where General Butler and other officers were buried. G. Trail to Girty’s Town, on the river St. Mary’s, at what is now the village of St. Mary’s. H. Site of Fort Recovery, built by Wayne; the line of Darke and Mercer runs within a few rods of the site of the fort. I. Place where a brass cannon was found buried in 1830; it is on the bottom where the Indians were three times driven to the highland with the bayonet.
McDowell’s Story.
The map of the battle-ground is from the survey of Mr. John S. Houston, of Celina. The localities* were pointed out to him by Mr. McDowell, who was in the action, and is now living near Recovery. In a letter dated Celina, March 20, 1847, Mr. Houston gives me some notes of a conversation with Mr. McDowell:
Mr. McDowell states that on the
morning of the battle
he and several others had just gone out to look after and guard their
horses,
when suddenly they heard the most hideous yells from the opposite side
of the
river, with discharges of musketry.
He
instantly rushed to camp, found his regiment preparing for action,
joined them,
and was with the party who so gallantly charged the enemy in the bottom. On the retreat he was
among those who
defended the rear, and kept the enemy in check for several miles. The ground was covered
with a slushy snow, which
much retarded their progress; and, after a while, many of them were so
dispirited
and hungry—having eaten no breakfast—that they
threw down their arms and made
the best of their way, pell-mell, among the retreating crowd. About this time, Mr.
McDowell saw a female
carrying her infant, a year old. She
was
so tired that she was about to fall by the wayside, when he took the
child and
carried it
___________________
*The reference A. and D were not on
the map; neither
was the high ground on the east side of the river, which we have placed
on it
from personal recollection.—H. H.
Pg. 229
some distance.
Afterwards, to save her own life, the woman threw away the
child in the
snow. The Indians
took it up, carried it
to the Sandusky towns, and raised it.*
Soon after this McDowell overtook a youth, some eighteen
years old,
wounded in the leg, hobbling along, and dispirited.
He gave him a drink of spirits and a little
bread (he himself had not had time to eat), which refreshed and
encouraged
him. Soon after a pony
came dashing by. This
McDowell
caught, and mounting the youth upon it, he safely reached the fort.
At Stillwater creek, twelve miles
from the
battle-ground, the Indians, who were no longer numerous, left them and
returned
to share their booty. “Oh!”
said an old
squaw who died many years ago on the St. Mary’s,
“my arm that night was weary
scalping white man.”
Some years ago—said the
old man to me—and here his
cheeks were moistened with tears—I was traveling in Kentucky
to visit a sister
I had not seen in many years, when I arrived at Georgetown, and entered
my name
on the ledger with the place of my residence—Recovery, O.
After I had been sitting some time
at ease before a
comfortable fire, a gentleman who had noticed the entry of my name and residence, opened a friendly
conversation about the place
and country. He
soon remarked that he
was at the defeat of St. Clair, and that if it had not been for the
assistance
of a young man of Butler’s regiment, he would have been there
yet.
After a few more questions and
replies both parties
recognized each other. The
gentleman was
the youth who had been shot, on the retreat, and whose
life—as previously
stated—was saved by the interposition of McDowell. At this discovery their
surprise and
consequent mutual attachment may be imagined.
The gentleman insisted upon taking him to his house and
introducing him
to his wife and daughters. He
had become
wealthy by merchandising, and on parting with McDowell, gave him a new
suit of
clothes and other presents, which he has carefully preserved to this
day.
Heroism and Agility of Kennan.
McClung, in his “Sketches of Western Adventure,” relates some anecdotes, showing the heroism and activity of a young man who was in this action:
The late William Kennan, of
Fleming county, at that
time a young man of eighteen,
was attached to the corps of rangers who accompanied the regular force. He had long been
remarkable for strength and
activity. In the
course of the march
from Fort Washington he had repeated opportunities of testing his
astonishing
powers in that respect, and was universally admitted to be the swiftest
runner
of the light corps. On
the evening
preceding the action his corps had been advanced, as already observed,
a few
hundred yards in front of the first line of infantry, in order to give
seasonable
notice of the enemy’s approach.
Just as
day was dawning he observed about thirty Indians within100 yards of the
guards’
fire, advancing cautiously toward the spot where he stood, together
with about
twenty rangers, the rest being considerably in the rear.
Supposing it to be a mere scouting
party, as usual,
and not superior in number to the rangers, he sprang forward a few
paces in
order to shelter himself in a spot of peculiarly rank grass, and firing
with a
quick aim upon the foremost Indian, he instantly fell flat upon his
face, and proceeded
with all possible rapidity to reload his gun, not doubting for a moment
but
that the rangers would maintain their position and support him. The Indians, however,
rushed forward in such
overwhelming masses that the rangers were compelled to fly with
precipitation,
leaving young Kennan in
total ignorance of his
danger. Fortunately
the captain of this
company had observed him when he threw himself into the grass, and
suddenly
shouted aloud, “Run, Kennan!
or
you are a dead man!” He
instantly sprang
to his feet and beheld Indians within ten feet of him, while his
company was
already more than 100 yards in front.
Not a moment was to be lost. He darted off with every
muscle strained to
its utmost, and was pursued by a dozen of the enemy with loud yells. He at first pressed
straight forward to the
usual fording-place in the creek, which ran between the rangers and the
main
army; but several Indians who had passed him before he rose from the
grass cut
him off from the rest. By
the most
powerful exertions he had thrown the whole body of pursuers behind him,
with
the exception of one chief (probably Messhawa),
who
displayed a swiftness and perseverance equal to his own. In the circuit which Kennan
was obliged to take the race continued for more than 400 yards.
The distance between them was
about eighteen feet, which Kennan
could not
increase nor his adversary diminish.
Each for the time put his whole soul into the race.
Kennan, as far as he was able, kept his
eye upon the motions
of his pursuer, lest he should throw the tomahawk, which he held aloft
in a
menacing attitude, and at length, finding that no other Indian was
immediately
at hand, he determined to try to mettle of
__________________________
* It is stated in some accounts that
about fifty, and
in other, that nearly 200 women were killed in the action and
fight.—H. H.
Pg. 230
his pursuer in a different manner, and
felt for his
tomahawk in order to turn at bay.
It had
escaped from its sheath, however, while he lay in the grass, and his
hair had
almost lifted the cap from his head when he saw himself totally
disarmed. As he had
slackened his pace for a moment the
Indian was almost in reach of him when he commenced the race; but the
idea of
being without arms lent wings to his feet, and, for the first time, he
was
himself gaining ground. He
had watched
the motions of his pursuer too closely, however, to pay proper
attention to the
nature of the ground before him, and he suddenly found himself in front
of a
large tree which had been blown down, and upon which brush and other
impediments lay to the height of eight or nine feet.
The Indian (who heretofore had not
uttered the
slightest sound) now gave a short, quick yell, as if secure of his
victim. Kennan had not a
moment to deliberate. He
must clear the
impediment at a leap of perish. Putting
his whole soul into the effort, he bounded into the air with a power
which
astonished himself, and clearing limbs, brush and everything else, alighted imperfect safety upon
the other side. A
loud yell of astonishment burst from the
band of pursuers, not one of whom had the hardihood to attempt the same
feat. Kennan,
as may be readily imagined, had no leisure to enjoy his triumph, but
dashing
into the bed of the creek (upon the banks of which his feat had been
performed), where the high banks would shield him from the fire of the
enemy,
he ran up the stream until a convenient place offered for crossing, and
rejoined the rangers in the rear of the encampment, panting from the
fatigue of
exertions which have seldom been surpassed.
No breathing time was allowed him, however. The attack instantly
commenced, and, as we
have already observed, was maintained for three hours with unabated
fury.
When the retreat commenced, Kennan
was attached to Maj. Clarke’s battalion, and had the
dangerous service of
protecting the rear. This
corps quickly
lost its commander, and was completely disorganized.
Kennan was
among
the hindmost when the fight commenced, but exerting those same powers
which had
saved him in the morning, he quickly gained the front, passing several
horsemen
in flight. Here he
beheld a private in
his own company, and intimate acquaintance, lying upon the ground with
his
thigh broken, and in tones of the most piercing distress, implored each
horseman who hurried by to take him up behind him.
As soon as he beheld Kennan
coming up on food, he stretched out his arms and called aloud upon him
to save
him. Notwithstanding
the imminent peril
of the moment, he friend could not reject so passionate an appeal, but
seizing
him in his arms he placed him upon his back and ran in that manner for
several
hundred yards. Horseman
after horseman
passed them, all of whom refused to relieve him of his burden.
At length the enemy was gaining
upon him so fast that Kennan
saw their death certain unless he relinquished his
burden. He
accordingly told his friend
that he had used every possible exertion to save his life, but in vain;
that he
must relax his hold around his neck or they would both perish. The unhappy wretch,
heedless of every
remonstrance, still clung convulsively to his back, and impeded his
exertions
until the foremost of the enemy (armed with tomahawks alone) were
within twenty
yards of them. Kennan
then drew his knife from its sheath and cut the fingers of his
companion, thus
compelling him to relinquish his hold.
The unhappy man rolled upon the ground in utter
helplessness, and Kennan
beheld him tomahawked before he had gone thirty
yards. Relieved
from his burden, he
darted forward with an activity which once more brought him to the van. Here again he was
compelled to neglect his
own safety in order to attend to that others.
The late Governor Madison, of
Kentucky, who afterwards
commanded the corps which defended themselves so honorably at Raisin, a
man who
united the most amiable temper to the most unconquerable courage, was
at that
time a subaltern in St. Clair’s army, and being a man of
infirm constitution,
was totally exhausted by the exertions of the morning and was now
sitting down
calmly upon a log, awaiting the approach of his enemies. Kennan
hastily
accosted him and inquired the cause of his delay.
Madison, pointing to a wound which had bled
profusely, replied that he was unable to walk any further, and had no
horse. Kennan
instantly ran back to a spot where he had seen an exhausted horse
grazing,
caught him without difficulty, and having assisted Madison to mount,
walked by
his side until they were out of danger.
Fortunately, the pursuit soon ceased, as the plunder of
the camp
presented irresistible attractions to the enemy.
The friendship thus formed between these two
young men endured without interruption through life.
Mr. Kennan
never
entirely recovered from the immense exertions which he was compelled to
make
during this unfortunate expedition.
He
settled in Fleming county,
and continued for many
years a leading member of the Baptist church.
He died in 1827.
The number of Indians engaged in
this action can never
be ascertained with any degree of certainty.
They have been variously estimated from 1,000 to 3,000.
Col. John Johnston, long an Indian agent in this region, and whose opportunities for forming a correct opinion on this subject are worthy of consideration, in a communication
Pg. 231
to us (1846), says: “The number of Indians at the defeat of St. Clair, must have been large. At that time game was plenty and any number could be conveniently subsisted. Wells, one of our interpreters, was there with and fought for the enemy. To use his own language, he tomahawked and scalped the wounded, dying and dead, until he was unable to raise his arm. The principal tribes in the battle were the Delawares, Shawanese, Wyandots, Miamies, and Ottawas, with some Chippewas and Putawatimes. The precise number of the whole I had no accurate means of knowing; it could not be less than 2000.”
The following song is not the best of poetry, but it has frequently been sung with sad emotion, and is worthy of preservation as a relic of olden time:
Saint Claire’s Defeat.
‘Twas November the fourth, in the year of ninety-one. We had a sore engagement, near to Fort Jefferson; Sinclaire was our commander, which may remembered be For there we left nine hundred men in t’ West’n Ter’tory. At Bunker’s Hill and Quebeck, where many a hero fell, Likewise at Long Island, (it is I the truth can tell,) But such a dreadful carnage may I never see again As hap’ned near St. Mary’s, upon the river plain. Onr army was attacked just as the day did dawn, And soon were overpowered and driven from the lawn. They killed Major Ouldham, Levin and Briggs likewise, And horrid yells of sav’ges resounded through the skies. Major Butler was wounded in the very second fire; His manly bosom swell’d with rage when forc’d to retire; And as he lay in anguish, nor scarcely could he see, Exclaim’d, “Ye hounds of hell, O! revenged I will be.” We had not been long broken when General Butler found Himself so badly wounded, was forced to quit the ground. “My God!” says he, “what shall we do, we’re wounded every man? Go charge the, valiant heroes, and beat them if you can.” He leaned his back against a tree, and there resigned his breath, And like a valiant soldier sunk in the arms of death; When blessed angels did await, his spirit to convey; And unto the celestial field he quickly bent his way. We charg’d again with courage firm, but soon again gave ground, The war-whoop then redoubled, as did the foes around. They killed Major Ferguson, which caused his men to cry, “Our only safety is in flight, or fighting here to die.” “Stand to you guns,” says valiant Ford, “let’s die upon them here Before we let the sav’ges know we ever harbored fear.” Our cannon-balls exhausted, and artill’ry-men all slain, Obliged were our musketmen the en’my to sustain. Yet three hours more we fought them, and then were forc’d to yield, When three hundred bloody warriors lay stretch’d upon the field. Says Colonel Gibson to his men, “My boys, be not dismay’d; I’m sure that true Virginians were never yet afraid. Ten thousand deaths I’d rather die, than they should gain the field!” With that he got a fatal shot, which caused him to yield. Says Major Clark, “My heroes, I can here no longer stand, We’ll strive to form in order, and retreat the best we can.” The word, Retreat, being pass’d around, there was a dismal cry, Then helter-skelter through the woods, like wolves and sheep they fly. This well-appointed army, who but a day before, Defied and braved all danger, had like a cloud pass’d o’er. |
Pg. 232
Alas! the dying and wounded, how dreadful was the thought, To the tomahawk and scalping-knife, in mis’ry are brought. Some had a thigh and some an arm broke on the field that day, Who writhed in torments at the stake, to close the dire affray. To mention our brave officers, is what I wish to do; No sons of Mars e’er fought more brave, or with more courage true. To Captain Bradford I belonged, in his artillery. He fell that day amongst the slain; a valiant man was he. |
Some time after the defeat of St. Clair, Wilkinson, who had succeeded him in the command of Fort Washington, ordered an expedition to visit the battle-ground. Capt. Buntin, who was with the party, afterwards addressed a letter to St. Clair, from which we make an extract:
In my opinion, those unfortunate
men who fell into the
enemy’s hands with life were used with the greatest torture,
having their limbs
torn off; and the women have been treated with the most indecent
cruelty,
having stakes as thick as a person’s arm driven through their
bodies. The first I
observed when burying the dead;
and the latter was discovered by Col. Sargent
and Dr.
Brown. We found
three whole carriages;
the other five were so much damaged that they were rendered useless. By the general’s
orders pits were dug in
different places, and all the dead bodies that were exposed to view or
could be
conveniently found (the snow being very deep) were buried. During this time there
were sundry parties
detached, some for our safety and others in examining the course of the
creek;
and some distance in advance of the ground occupied by the militia,
they found
a large camp, not less than three-quarters of a mile long, which was
supposed
to be that of the Indians the night before the action.
We remained on the field that night, and next
morning fixed geared horses to the carriages and moved for Fort
Jefferson…. As
there is little reason to believe that the enemy have carried off the
cannon,
it is the received opinion that they were either buried or thrown into
the
creek, and I think the latter the most probable; but as it was frozen
over with
thick ice, and that covered with a deep snow, it was impossible to make
a
search with any prospect of success.
In
a former part of this letter I have mentioned the camp occupied by the
enemy
the night before the action; had Col. Oldham been able to have complied
with
your orders on that evening things at this day might have worn a
different
aspect.
Mr. McDowell, previously mentioned, was one of those who visited the battleground.
He states that although the bodies
were much abused
and stripped of all of value they recognized and interred them in four
large
graves. Gen. Butler
was found in the
shattered remains of his tent. After
he
was wounded he was borne to the tent, and while two surgeons were
dressing his
wounds a ball struck one of them in the hip.
At this instant, and Indian, who was determined to have
the scalp of
Butler, rushed in and while attempting to scalp him, was shot by the
dying
surgeon.
In December, 1793, Gen. Wayne, having arrived with his army at Greenville, sent forward a detachment to the spot of St. Clair’s defeat.
They arrived on the ground on
Christmas day and
pitched their tents on the battleground.
When the men went to lie down in their tents at night they
had to scrape
the bones together and carry them out to make their beds. The next day holes were
dug and the bones
remaining above ground were buried, six hundred skulls being found
among
them. The flesh was
entirely off the
bones, and in many cases the sinews yet held them together. After this melancholy duty
was performed a
fortification was built and named FORT RECOVERY, in commemoration of
its being
recovered from the Indians, who had possession of the ground in 1791. On the completion of the
fort one company of
artillery and one of riflemen were left, while the rest returned to
Greenville.
Attack on Fort
Recovery.
The site of St. Clair’s battle became the scene of a sanguinary affair in the summer of 1794, while Wayne’s army was encamped at Greenville, of which Burnet’s Notes give the best description we have seen
Pg. 233
On the 30th
of June a very severe and
bloody battle was fought under the walls of Fort Recovery between a
detachment
of American troops, consisting of ninety riflemen and fifty dragoons,
commanded
by Major McMahon, and a very numerous body of Indians and British, who
at the
same instant rushed on the detachment, and assailed the fort on every
side with
great fury. They
were repulsed with a
heavy loss, but again rallied and renewed the attack, keeping up a
heavy and
constant fire during the whole day, which was returned with spirit and
effect
by the garrison
The succeeding night was foggy and
dark and gave the
Indians an opportunity of carrying off their dead by torch-light, which
occasionally drew a fire from the garrison.
They, however, succeeded so well that there were but eight
or ten bodies
left on the ground, which were too near the garrison to be approached. On the next morning,
McMahon’s detachment
having entered the fort, the enemy
renewed the attack and
continued it with great desperation during the day, but were
ultimately
compelled to retreat from the same field on which they had been proudly
victorious on the 4th day of November, 1791.
The expectation of the assailants
must have been to
surprise the post, and carry it by storm, for they could not possibly
have
received intelligence of the movement of the escort under Major
McMahon, which
only marched from Greenville on the morning preceding, and on the same
evening
deposited in Fort Recovery the supplies it had convoyed. That occurrence could not,
therefore, have
led to the movement of the savages.
Judging from the extent of their
encampment, and their
line of march, in
seventeen columns, forming a wide
and extended front, and from other circumstances, it was believed their
numbers
could not have been less than from 1,500 to 2,000 warriors. It was also believed that
they were in want
of provisions, as they had killed and eaten a number of pack-horses in
their
encampment the evening after the assault, and also at their encampment
on their
return, seven miles from Recovery, where they remained two nights,
having been
much encumbered with their dead and wounded.
From the official return of Major
Mills,
adjutant-general of the army, it appears that twenty-two officers and
non-commissioned officers were killed, and thirty wounded. Among the former were
Major McMahon, Capt. Hartshorn
and Lieut. Craig: and among the wounded, Capt.
Taylor of the dragoons and Lieut. Darke
of the
legion. Capt.
Gibson, who commanded the
fort, behaved with great gallantry, and received the thanks of the
commander-in-chief, as did every officer and soldier of the garrison
and the
escort who were engaged in that most gallant and successful defence.
Immediately after the enemy had
retreated it was
ascertained that their loss had been very heavy; but the full extent of
it was
not known till it was disclosed at the treaty of Greenville. References were made to
that battle by
several of the chiefs in council, from which it was manifest that they
had not
even then ceased to mourn the distressing losses sustained on that
occasion. Having
made the attack with a
determination to carry the fort or perish in the attempt, they exposed
their
persons in an unusual degree, and of course a large number of the
bravest of
their chiefs and warriors perished before they abandoned the enterprise.
From the facts afterwards
communicated to the general
it was satisfactorily ascertained that there were a considerable number
of
British soldiers and Detroit militia engaged with the savages on that
occasion. A few
days previous to that
affair the general had sent out three small parties of Chickasaw and
Choctaw
Indians, to take prisoners for the purpose of obtaining information. One of those parties
returned to Greenville
on the 28th, and reported that they had fallen
in with a large body
of Indians at Girty’s
Town (crossing of the St.
Mary’s) on the evening of the 27th of
June, apparently bending their
course towards Chillicothe, on the Miami; and that there were a great
many
white men with them. The
two other
parties followed the trail of the hostile Indians, and were in sight
when the
assault on the post commenced. They
affirm, one and all, that there were a large number of armed white men,
with
painted faces, whom they frequently heard conversing in English, and
encouraging the Indians to persevere; and that there were also three
British
officers, dressed in scarlet, who appeared to be men of distinction
from the
great attention and respect which were paid to them.
These persons kept at a distance in the rear
of the assailants. Another
strong,
corroborating proof that there were British soldiers and militia in the
assault, is that a number of ounce-balls and buckshot were found lodged
in the block-houses
and stockades of the fort; and that others were picked up on the
ground, fired
at such a distance as not to have momentum sufficient to enter the logs.
It was supposed that the British
engaged in the attack
expected to find the artillery that was lost on the fatal 4th
of
November, which had been hid in the ground and covered with logs by the
Indians
in the vicinity of the battle-field.
This inference was supported by the fact that during the
conflict they
were seen turning over logs and examining different places in the
neighborhood,
as if searching for something. There
were many reasons for believing that they depended on that artillery to
aid in
the reduction of the fort; but fortunately most of it had been
previously found
by its legitimate owners, and was then employed in its defence.
James Neill, a pack-horse man in
the American service,
who was taken prisoner by the Indians during the attack, and tied to a
stump
about half a mile from the fort, after
Pg. 234
his return stated to the general that
the enemy lost a
great number in killed and wounded; that while he was at the stump he
saw about
twenty of their dead and a great many wounded carried off. He understood there were
1,500 Indians and
white men in the attack; and on their return to the Miami the Indians
stated
that no men ever fought better than they did at Recovery; and that
their party
lost twice as many men in that attack as they did at St.
Clair’s defeat.
Jonathan Alder, who was then living
with the Indians,
gives in his manuscript autobiography an account of the attack on the
fort. He states
that Simon Girty was in
the action, and that one of the American
officers was killed by Thomas McKee, a son of the British agent, Col.
Alexander
McKee. We have room
but for a single
extract, showing the risk the Indians encountered to bring off their
wounded.
In the morning, when we arose, an
old Indian addressed
us, saying, “We last night went out to take the fort by
surprise, and lost
several of our men killed and wounded.
There is one wounded man lying near the fort who must be
brought away,
for it would be an eternal shame and scandal to the tribe to allow him
to fall
into the hands of the whites to be massacred.
I wish to know who will volunteer to go and bring him
away.” Big
Turtle, who knew where he lay, answered
that he would go; but as no one else volunteered, the old Indian
pointed out
several of us successively, myself among the number, saying that we
must
accompany Big Turtle. Upon
this we rose
up without a word and started. As
soon
as we came into the edge of the cleared ground those in the fort began
shooting
at us. We then ran
crooked, from one
tree to another, the bullets in the meanwhile flying about us like hail. At length, while standing
behind a big tree,
Big Turtle ordered us not to stop any more, but run in a straight line,
as we
were only giving them more time to lead—that those foremost
in going should
have the liberty of first returning.
He
then pointed out the wounded man, and we started in a straight line
through a
shower of bullets. When
we reached him
we were within sixty yards of the fort.
We all seized him and retreated for our lives, first
dodging from one
side and then to the other, until out of danger.
None of us were wounded but Big Turtle.
A ball grazed his thigh and a number of bullets
passed through his hunting shirt that hung loose.
When we picked up the wounded man his shirt
flew up, and I saw that he was shot in the belly.
It was green all around the bullet holes, and
I concluded that we were risking our lives for a dead man.
A small village, now (1846) containing a few house only, was laid off on the site of St. Clair’s defeat, in 1836, by Larkin and McDaniels. It is twenty-three miles north of Greenville. Many relics of the battle have been discovered—muskets, swords, tomahawks, scalping knives, cannon balls, grape and musket shot, etc. Among the bones found is that of a skull, now in possession of Mr. William McDaniels, showing the marks of a bullet, a tomahawk and a scalping knife. St. Clair lost several cannon, all of which but one were subsequently recovered by Wayne. This was long known to be missing, and about a dozen years since was discovered buried in the mud near the mouth of the creek. It is now in possession of an artillery company in Cincinnati. When the low ground in the valley of the river was cleared, several years since, a large quantity of bullets and grape shot were found in the bodies of trees, from twenty to thirty feet above the ground, from which it seems that the troops and artillery, having been stationed on high ground, fired over the enemy. On burning the trees the lead melting rand down their trunks, discoloring them so much as to be perceived at a considerable distance.
The remains of Major McMahon and his companions, who fell at the time of the attack on the fort, were buried within its walls. Some years since their bones were disinterred and reburied with the honors of war, in one coffin, in the village graveyard. McMahon was known from the size of his bones. He was about 6 feet 6 inches in height. A bullet hole was in his skull, the ball having entered his temple and come out at the back of his head. He was originally from near the Mingo bottom, just below Steubenville. He was a famous Indian fighter and captain, and classed by the borderers on the upper Ohio with Brady and the Wetzels.—Old Edition.
Pg. 235
Top
Picture
Drawn
by Henry Howe in
1846.
THE MERCER COUNTY RESERVOIR.
Said
to be the largest artificial lake on the globe.
Bottom
Picture
Ford Lewis,
Photo., Celina,
1890.
STREET VIEW IN CELINA.
A
church in course of construction is shown on the
left,
the
Court-House on the right, the Reservoir in the distance.
Pg. 236
CELINA, county-seat of Mercer, on the Wabash river, 100 miles southwest of Toledo, about 100 miles north of Cincinnati, and about ninety miles northwest of Columbus, in on the L. E. & W., C. J. & M., and T., St. L. & K. C. Railroads; is also on the Grand Reservoir, ten miles long—the largest artificial lake in the United States, covering 17,000 acres with an average depth of ten feet. County officers, 1888: Auditor, Theophilus G. TOUVELL; Clerk, Henry LENNARTZ; Commissioners, John H. SIEBERT, Peter HAUBERT, Christian FANGER; Coroner, Theodore G. McDONALD; Infirmary Directors, Charles F. LUTZ, Philip HEIBY, David OVERLY; Probate Judge, Stafford S. SCRANTON; Prosecuting Attorney, Byron M. CLENDERING; Recorder, William C. SNYDER; Sheriff, James F. TIMMONDS; Surveyor, Justin M. DeFORD; Treasurer, Samuel A. NICKERSON. City officers, 1888: Joseph MAY, Mayor; Charles GABLE, Clerk; H. F. JUNEMAN, Treasurer; George H. HOUSER, Marshal. Newspapers: Der Mercer County Bote, German, Democratic, William STELZER, editor and publisher; Mercer County Observer, Republican, JAMESON & ROSS, editors and publishers; Mercer County Standard, Democratic, A. P. SNYDER, editor and publisher. Churches: one Catholic, one Lutheran, one Presbyterian, one United Brethren, one Methodist. Banks: Citizens’, Chr. SCHUNCK, president, J. W. DeFORD, cashier; Godfrey & Milligan.
Manufactures and Employees.—Krenning Woollen Mills, blankets, etc., 10 hands; Celina Machine Works, machine shop, 7; W. B. Nimmons, barrel heads, 45; W. H. Beery, flour and feed, 4; Timmonds & Estry, doors, sash, etc., 6; A. Wykoff & Son, carriages, etc., 10; Celina City Mills, flour, etc., 3.—Ohio State Report, 1888. Population, 1880, 1,346. School census, 1888, 752; George S. Harter, school superintendent. Capital invested in industrial establishments, $79,525. Value of annual products, $132,500.—Ohio Labor Statistics, 1888. Census, 1890, 2,684.
Celina is steadily prospering; its manufactures are chiefly wood, as are those of northwestern Ohio generally. The centre and south part of the county is a rich gas field, while north of Celina extends the oil territory. Celina is a Democratic stronghold. It has furnished the Ohio Legislature with two Democratic speakers of the House in the persons of ex-Congressman F. C. LeBlond and Hon. A. D. Marsh, while Hon. Thomas Jefferson Godfrey in 1868 was president of the Senate, and in 1869 was on the Democratic ticket for lieutenant-governor, with George H. Pendleton as candidate for governor; he was a member of the Constitutional Convention of 1873-1874, and on the judiciary committee. He takes much interest in education, and had for years been a trustee of the State University. The German Catholic element is strong in Celina, and, indeed, in the new northwest of Ohio generally, and it makes a thrifty, upright, industrious body of pioneers, intensely patriotic and well adapted to cope with a wilderness condition.
The old county-seat was St. Mary’s, described on page 302, where stood the old fort St. Mary’s, built by Wayne. Col. John Johnston gave us this account of the last commander of that fort, Capt. John Whistler, who appears to have been a remarkable man.
He was a soldier from his youth,
came to American in
Burgoyne’s army, and was taken prisoner at Saratoga. He remained afterwards in
the United States,
entered the Western army under St. Clair, and survived the disastrous
defeat of
November, 1791, at which he acted as sergeant.
In 1793 an order came from the war office, purporting that
any
non-commissioned officer who should raise twenty-five recruits would
receive
the commission of an ensign. He
succeeded in this way in obtaining the office, from which he rose to a
captaincy, and commanded in succession Forts St. Mary’s,
Wayne and Dearborn, at
Chicago. He built
the latter without the
aid of a horse or ox; the timber and materials were all hauled by the
labor of
soldiers, their commander always at their head assisting. He could recruit more men
and perform more
labor than any other officer in the army.
Age and hard service at length broke him down. He retired from the line
of the army and
received the appointment of military shopkeeper at St. Louis, where he
died
about 1826.
Pg. 237
By the formation of Auglaise county in 1848, St. Mary’s was embodied in it, although Celina, then as now, was the county-seat. It had but few inhabitants. Celina was surveyed and laid out by James Watson RILEY, for himself, Rufus W. STEARNES, Robert LINZER, 2d, and Peter AUGHENBAUGH, join proprietors of the land, and the plat recorded September 8, 1834. The name Celina was given after that of Salina, N. Y., because, like that place it stood at the head of a lake. The name was changed in spelling from “Sa” to “Ce,” to prevent confusion of post-offices. The town slowly got a start, and when the Harrison campaign ensued in 1840, the county officers had removed here from St. Mary’s, and go domiciled in log huts, and the court-house had received its roof.
After the excitement of the Harrison campaign was over, a chopping frolic or “bee” was held to cut down the timber on the town site, and give the sun a chance to dry up the mud. So, on a beautiful Indian summer day about seventy experienced choppers from all the country round came to Celina with their sharp, glistening axes; women, too, came with them to do their cooking; and, after a great day of work, they partook of a generous supper of substantials, and then ensued a grand dance, kept up by many until daylight did appear. When they cleared the woods they adopted the method described on page 468.
Travelling Notes.
This is Thursday evening, December
9, and I am in
Celina, county-seat of Mercer, and the southernmost of the wild
counties of
Ohio on the Indiana line. I
got here by
rail from Paulding near sunset, in a freight train with a caboose
attached, and
through the woods nearly all the way.
This entire wild region of woods and swamps of
Northwestern Ohio fill
one with an indescribable emotion of coming greatness from its great
fertility
when cleared and drained. In
the
meanwhile its wood crop yields full reward for manly toil.
Celina, with its effeminate,
soft-sounding name, is
small and has the aspect of newness as though the place itself was but
newly
arrived. From its
name we should look
for a refined and gentle population.
Its
main street is very broad, and I walked in the beautiful crisp air and
in the
bright moon to its foot where lies
the great artificial lake.
Boys and girls were there skating—their glad
voices rang on the air.
Lines of fish-houses are on the
banks. The old
picture which I took in 1846 of the
lake was at the St. Mary’s end, ten miles east.
In it are shown dead forests standing in the water. These now have disappeared
everywhere and in
their places stand decayed and decaying stumps, projecting a few inches
above
the water, their many miles of black heads showing where the forests
had been a
singular appearance for the surface of the lake.
Under the water the wood is preserved from
decay by its continuous immersion.
By
the rise and fall of the water the exposed part
of the stumps
decay. The
decayed vegetable
matter when the water is low fills the air with a horrible odor, which
I am
told is some summers so sickening as to almost drive the people away. In time this will be
remedied by a systematic
clearing away of the stumps, or sawing them off below the lowest
water-line.
Several small islands are in the
lake, one of
which—Eagle’s Island—is the abode of a
professional fisherman; another is a
pleasure resort for pic-nic
parties, hunting and
fishing, which is reached by a small steamer and various other boats. The fish are largely
caught by nets, as black
and rock bass, catfish, roach, bull heads, ring perch, etc. During the spring and
autumn of each year
wild fowl gather here in large and incredible numbers, and as a fishing
and
hunting resort it is very attractive, and large parties come here for
that purpose
from all parts of the State.
It is now nine o’clock
and I am in the depot at
Celina, and make this note: “In a few minutes shall start South.”
It has been a clear, glorious, sunny winter
day; no overcoat wanted. Mere
existence
has been joyous. The
sun has set bright
over a dead level forest country and the full moon risen
huge in the East. But
the train is
approaching; its big head-light looms up in the distance, seeming to
say, “I’m
coming to bear you on your way.”
Slow,
stumbling “Old Pomp” has had his day.
The father of Celina was James Watson RILEY. He was the son of Captain
Pg. 238
James RILEY, the once Arab captive, whose history is given in Van Wert county. The son was born in 1804, in Middletown, Connecticut, and came with his family to Ohio when quite young. The inscription on his monument in Celina is annexed:
In Heaven Rest,
Sacred to the Memory of our Father
JAMES WATSON RILEY.
DIED
January, 1870,
AGED
65 years, 10 months, and 11 days.
There never lived a better husband, a kinder father,
a
truer friend.
He was a somewhat tall, wiry man of great energy and push, whom I gratefully remember, he having supplied me with valuable material for my original edition. The inscription on his monument is a model. One feels it is true; an emanation from a loving heart. Better than all titles, and all honors, and all material possessions, is it, to deserve such an epitaph.
His life, was, however, great, because given to developing the swamp region of the State, and he was the proprietor of the towns of Van Wert, Paulding and Celina, all county-seats, which he surveyed and founded. His ambition was to enter the wilderness, carve out villages which should serve as centres for young prospering communities. To have been the creator of three county-seats is an extraordinary honor, not, we think, paralleled anywhere.
Public office sought him; at one time he was Register of the United States Land Office. He was an ardent Whig in the old Tippecanoe times and made a strong contest for Congress in opposition to Hon. Wm. SAWYER. The district was hopelessly Democratic, but by stumping it he reduced Mr. SAWYER’S majority from 2,500 to 1,000.
SAWYER represented this
Congressional district from
1845 to 1849, and he got fastened upon him the epithet of
“Sausage.” And
this was the way of it: Wm. E. Robinson,
the waggish reporter “Richelieu,” of the New
York Tribune, had given a comic description of the Hon. Wm.
SAWYER’S
bringing on to the floor of Congress a cold lunch, and spreading it on
his desk
and partaking of it with a gusto in the presence of his fellow-members
while in
session.
Cold sausage, as described, was the
principle article
of the menu.
The Democratic majority expelled Mr.
ROBINSON, but he came back some years later and took his seat, not this
time in
the reporter’s gallery, but on the floor of the House, right
among the
Democrats, as the Democratic member from the
Page 239
Brooklyn,
New York, district.
Mr. SAWYER was
ever after known as “Sausage Sawyer.” It
was a cruel epithet to apply to a worthy man.
ROBINSON was a red-headed North of
Ireland man,
educated in this country; his college mates called him
“Jack.” He
oozed with fun; couldn’t help it; was born
that way. This made
him, in his youthful
days, a favorite on the Whig platform, to which he was always called
with
vociferous yells and stampings. We
once
saw him mount the orating stage, throw his hat, an old soft, white hat
which he
had under him arm, at his feet and make a comic apostrophe to it as an
opening
to more fun. Jack
we believe and hope is
yet living, and if living must have opened this very day with a good
joke,
possibly may have lunched on cold sausage.
The last we saw of Jack was fourteen years ago; he was on
a public
platform as a companion to Dr. John G. Holland, the poet. His red hair had bleached
to a dull white and
stood out huge and bushy in all directions, which gave to him a sage
and
venerable aspect.
Slang epithets and fancy names, we
believe, are
universal. Public
men are especially
favored. Napoleon
the First was dubbed
by his soldiers “Little Corporal,” and Wellington
traveled as the “Iron
Duke.” Coming
to our own country, Andrew
Jackson was “Old Hickory;” Martin Van Buren, the
“Little Magician;” Thomas
Benton, “Old Bullion;” John Quincy Adams, the
“Old Man Eloquent;” Daniel
Webster, the “God-like Webster” and
“Black Dan;” General Winfield Scott,
“Fuss
and Feathers;” Henry Clay, “Mill Boy of the
Slashes” and “Cooney;” Mr. Blaine,
the “Plumed Knight;” and General Butler,
“Spoons.”
Coming to Ohio we find General W.
H. Harrison was a
“Granny;” Thomas Corwin, a “Wagon
Boy;” Gov. Wood, “Tall Chief of the Cuyahogas;” Hon.
Samuel Medary,
“War Horse of the Democracy;” Gov. Allen,
“Chinese Gong” and “Fog Horn,”
from
his tremendous voice, and then having used in a speech the sentence,
“Earthquake of indignation,” became
“Earthquake Allen;” Mr. Ewing was
“Solitude
Ewing,” from a speech in the Senate when, speaking of the
disastrous effects of
the removal of the deposits from the United States Bank by General
Jackson, he
had said: “Our canals have become a solitude, and the lake a
desert waste of
waters.” This
term solitude is poetical,
having in it the element of pleasing melancholy.
Possibly, in using it Mr. Ewing may have been
reading “Zimmerman on Solitude.”
If he
had lived to our time it might have been Algers’
“Genius of Solitude,” which last we can commend to
all thoughtful souls who
have aspirations for indulgence in “pleasing
melancholy.”
Coming to the war period and later,
“Old Stars” stood for
the astronomer, General Ormsby
Knight Mitchell. He
had pointed his telescope so much aloft to
see what Jupiter and its traveling moons were doing,
his soldiers thought “Old Stars” was a good fit. “Uncle
Billy” is a term of endearment for
Sherman. As they
use it the old veterans
feel drawn closer to the General, their hearts beating in unison. They realize in the time
of trouble he had a
brother’s love, was ready to share his last cracker with them
as he is now to
welcome them and their wives and daughters, greeting the latter
sometimes with
the fraternal kiss; “for of such is,” etc.
“Little Breeches” for a while was Mr. Foraker’s
designation, growing out of his youthful experience; like the breeches
it had
no permanence, soon was worn out and cast away; but Judge Thurman
remains
“Honest,” while “King Bob” yet
wears the crown.
In private life nicknames are
endless. Our
Indians appear to have none other.
“Fool Dog: designated a Sioux chief. Said
a department commander
of the army to us: “Fool Dog was as good a man as I ever
knew; he was
exceedingly fond of me.
Yes, I
think Fool Dog would have died for me.”
Every reader must remember some of his schoolmates that
had eccentric
appellations. One I
had was known as “Scoopendiver
Bill.”
How he got it I never knew; but I did of another,
“Boots.” His
father had sent him with his boots for
the mending; the lad drew them over his own boots, and shuffling past
the
school-house when his mates were out at play, they filled the air with
the cry
of “Boots! boots!
boots!” The epithet
“Boots” became a permanent
fixture. His real
name passed into
oblivion, his school-mates never using any other than
“Boots.” He
is yet living, but being aged it must be
as “Old Boots.”
The Mercer County Reservoir.
The largest artificial lake, it is said, on the globe, is formed by the reservoir supplying the St. Mary’s feeder of the Miami extension canal, from which it is situated three miles west. The reservoir is about nine miles long and from two to four broad. It is on the summit, between the Ohio and the lakes. About one-half in its natural state was a prairie, and the remainder a forest. It was formed by raising two wall of earth, from ten to twenty-five feet high, called respectively the East and West embankment, the first of which is about two miles and the last near four in length. These walls, with the elevation of the ground to the north and south, form a huge basin to retain the water.
Pg. 240
The reservoir was commenced in 1837
and completed in
1845, at an expense of several hundred thousand dollars. The west embankment was
completed in
1843. The water
filled in at the upper
end to the depth of several feet, but as the ground rose gradually to
the east
it overflowed for several miles to the depth of a few inches only. This vast body of water
thus exposed to the
powerful rays of the sun, would, if allowed to have remained, have bred
pestilence through the adjacent country.
Moreover, whole farms that belonged to individuals, yet
unpaid for by
the State, were completely submerged.
Under these circumstances, about one hundred and fifty
residents of the
county turned out with spades and shovels and by two days of industry
tore a
passage for the water through the embankment.
It cost several thousand dollars to repair the damage. Among those concerned in
this affair were
persons high in official station and respectability, some of whom here
for the
first time blistered their hands at manual labor.
They were all liable to the State law making
the despoiling of public works a penitentiary offence, but a grand jury
could
not be found in Mercer to find a bill of indictment.
The Legislature, by a joint
resolution, passed in
1837, resolved that no reservoir should be made for public canals
without the
timber being first cleared; it was unheeded by officers in charge of
this
work. The trees
were only girdled and
thus thousands of acres of most valuable timber that would have been of
great
value to the Commonwealth in building of bridges and other
constructions on the
public works wantonly wasted.
The view of the reservoir was taken
from the east
embankment, and presents a singular scene.
In front are dead trees and stumps scattered about, and
roofs of
deserted cabins rising from the water.
Beyond a cluster of green prairie grass waves in the
rippling waters,
while to the right and left thousands of acres of dead forest trees,
with no
sign of life but a few scattered willows bending in the water, combine
to give
an air of wintry desolation to the scene.
The reservoir abounds in fish and wild fowl, while
innumerable frogs
make the air vocal with their bellowings. The water is only a few
feet deep, and in
storms the waves dash up
six or eight feet and foam
like an ocean in miniature. A
few years
since a steamer twenty-five feet in length, called the
“Seventy-six.” With a
boiler of seventy gallons capacity, a pipe four feet in height, and
commanded
by Captain Gustavus Darnold,
plied on its waters.
The foregoing account of the reservoir is from our original edition. The Mercer County Standard of April, 1871, has a fuller description, from which we take some items:
Justin HAMILTON, of Mercer county,
introduced a resolution into the Legislature, which was unanimously
adopted:
“That no water should be let into the reservoir before the
same should be
cleared of timber and the parties paid for this land.” The Legislature
appropriated $20,000 for this
purpose, but it was squandered by the officers and land speculators.
When the water was let in, growing
crops of wheat
belonging to various owners and other farm property were submerged. The people, indignant,
held a public meeting
at Celina, May 3, 1843; chose Samuel RUCKMAN, County Commissioner,
President,
and sent Benjamin LINZEE to Piqua to lay their grievances, with an
address,
before the head of the Board of Public Works, Messrs. Spencer and
Ramsey, etc.,
who returned the sneering answer, “Help
yourself if you can.”
On the 12th
the meeting returned Mr. LINZEE
to Piqua with the answer, that if they did not pay for the land and let
off the
water, they would cut the bank on the 15th. The reply came back,
“The Piqua Guards will be with you
and rout you on that day.”
At seven o’clock on the
morning of the 15th
more than one hundred citizens, with shovels, spades and wheel-barrows, were on the spot.
The place selected was the strongest on the bank in the
old Beaver
channel, and careful not to damage the State, the dirt was wheeled back
on the
bank on each side. Next
day at noon the
cutting was complete, and was dug six feet below the level of the lake
with a
flimsy breastwork to hold back the water.
When the tools were taken out and
all ready, Samuel
RUCKMAN said, “Who will start the water?”
“I,” said John Sunday;”
“I,” said Henry LINZEE, and in a moment the
meandering waters were hurling down fifty yards below the bank. It was six weeks before
the water subsided.
Warrants were issued for all
engaged in the work, and
this included all the county officers, judges, sheriffs, clerks,
auditor,
etc. As stated the
grand jury refused to
find a bill and it cost the State $17,000 to repair the damage.
John W. ERWIN, the old canal engineer, in a recent newspaper publication, states: This reservoir often feeds sixty miles or more of canal and discharges into he Maumee, at Defiance, 3,000 cubic feet of water per minute, after having been used over a fall of thirty-five feet for hydraulic purpose. The water which escapes at the west bank of the Grand Reservoir (by the Wabash river) finds its
Pg. 241
way into the Gulf of Mexico, and that which escapes at the east finds its way into the Gulf of St. Lawrence.
In our original edition we made the following statement in regard to a colony of colored people which amounted to several hundred persons: They live principally by agriculture, and own extensive tracts of land in the townships of Granville, Franklin, and Mercer. They bear a good reputation for morality, and manifest a laudable desire for mental improvement. This settlement was founded by the exertions of Mr. Augustus Wattles, a native of Connecticut, who, instead
Drawn
by Henry Howe in 1846.
EMLEN
INSTITUTE.
of merely theorizing upon the evils which prevent the moral and mental advancement of the colored race, has acted in their behalf with a philanthropic, Christian-like zeal that evinces he has their real good at heart. The history of this settlement is given in the annexed extract of a letter from him.
My early education, as you well
know, would naturally
lead me to look upon learning and good morals as of infinite importance
in a
land of liberty. In
the winter of 1833-4
I providentially became acquainted with the colored population of
Cincinnati,
and found about 4,000 totally ignorant of everything calculated to make
good
citizens. Most of
them had been slaves,
shut out from every avenue of moral and mental improvement. I started a school for
them and kept it up
with two hundred pupils for two years.
I
then proposed to the colored people to move into the country and
purchase land,
and remove from these contaminating influences which had so long
crushed them
in our cities and villages. They
promised to do so, provided I would accompany them and teach school. I traveled through Canada,
Michigan and
Indiana looking for a suitable location, and finally settled here,
thinking
this place contained more natural advantages than any other unoccupied
country
within my knowledge. In
1835 I made the
first purchase for colored people in this county.
In about three years they owned not far from
30,000 acres. I had
traveled into almost
every neighborhood of colored people in the State and laid before them
the
benefits of a permanent home for themselves and of education for their
children. In my
first journey through
the State I established, by the assistance and cooperation of
abolitionists,
twenty-five schools for colored children.
I collected of the colored people such money as they had
to spare and
entered land for them. Many,
who had no
money, afterwards succeeded in raising some and brought it to me.
With this I
bought land for them.
I purchased for myself one hundred
and ninety acres of
land to establish a manual labor school for colored boys. I had sustained a school
on it, as my own
expense, till the 11th of November, 1842. Being in Philadelphia the
winter before I
became acquainted with the trustees of the late Samuel Emlen,
of New Jersey, a Friend. He
left by his
will $20,000 for the “support and education in school
learning and the mechanic
arts and agriculture such colored boys, of African and Indian descent,
whose parents
would give them up to the institute.”
We
united our means and they purchased my farm and appointed me the
superintendent
of the establishment, which they call the Emlen
Institute.
Pg. 242
In 1846 Judge LEIGH, of Virginia, purchased 3,200 acres of land in this settlement for the freed slaves of John RANDOLPH, of Roanoke. These arrived in the summer of 1846 to the number of about four hundred, but were forcibly prevented from making a settlement by a portion of the inhabitants of the county. Since then acts of hostility have been commenced against the people of this settlement, and threats of greater held out if they do not abandon their lands and homes.—Old Edition.
From a statement in the county history issued in 1882 we see that a part of the Randolph negroes succeeded in effecting a settlement at Montezuma, Franklin township, just south of the reservoir.
FORT RECOVERY is on the south bank of the Wabash river, one and a half miles east of the Indiana State line, fifteen miles southwest of Celina, on the L. E. & W. R. R. Newspapers: News, Independent, Charles L. PATCHELL, editor and publisher; Times, Democratic, A. Sutherland, editor and publisher. Churches: one catholic, one Methodist, one Congregational, one Christian, one Lutheran. Bank: G. R. McDANIEL. School census, 1888, 347; D. W. K. Martin, school superintendent.
Fort Recovery is in the midst of a great gas field. On Wednesday, March 28, 1887, the first well was struck. It was well names “Mad Anthony.” It came with a mighty roar at only a depth of five hundred and ten feet. “Hats went up, cheers rang out” and, writes one, “the glad light of happiness, enthusiasm and prosperity shone in the eyes of our people. The test shows two millions of cubic feet daily from this well alone.”
The great event at this place was the defeat of St. Clair, already largely detailed. Since the issue of our original account in 1847, Fort Recovery has been the scene of a reminder of that sad day, here detailed.
Burial of the Remains of the
Slain.
In July, 1851, after heavy rains
had washed off the
earth, a discovery of a human skull in the streets of Recovery near the
site of
the old fort led to a further search, when the skeletons of some sixty
persons
were exhumed well preserved. It
was
resolved to reinter
them with suitable
ceremonies. They
were placed in thirteen
different coffins, representing the thirteen States of the Union at the
time of
the battle. The
bones showed variously
marks of the bullet, tomahawk and scalping-knife.
On a fine day, September 10, ensued
the ceremony of
the burial of the slain of St. Clair’s army.
The crowd was immense, and the procession was formed under
charge of
General James Watson Riley and aids.
One
hundred and four pall-bearers from different counties headed the
procession in
charge of the coffins, and were followed by soldiers, ladies and
citizens
generally, forming a column a mile long, while marching to the stand,
in full
view of the battle-ground, when Judge Bellamy Storer
delivered an eloquent address in his fervid, patriotic style. On the close of the
proceedings the
procession moved to the village burying-ground, and the thirteen
coffins
deposited in one grave just sixty years after the battle.
SHANE’S CROSSING is eleven miles north of Celina, on the southern division of the T. D. & B. and C. J. & M. Railroads. Newspaper: Free Press, D. C. KINDER, editor and publisher. Bank: Farmers’. Population, 1880, 404. School census, 1888, 308.
Historically this is an interesting
spot. It is on the
south bank of St. Mary’s
river. Originally
it was on or near the
site of the Indian village Old Town. This was an old trading
post held and
conducted by the Indians prior to the war of 1812, and named from
Anthony
Shane, a half-breed Indian trader.
At
this spot Wayne’s army crossed going north, and the spot
eventually became
known as Shane’s Crossing. The United States granted
a reservation here
to Shane and he laid out a town on his land June 23, 1820; it was
recorded at
Greenville under the name of Shanesville,
which it
retained until 1866, when it was incorporated and took its original
name as
Shane’s Crossing.
When the Shawnese
left Ohio for Kansas, Shane,
then a very old man, went with them.
Shanesville, St. Mary’s and
“Coil Town” were the early
contestants for the seat of justice for the county.
Coil Town passed away becoming a cultivated
field. The first
term of court was held
at Shanesville, Judge
LOW presiding; but St. Mary’s
won the prize, and then it later passed to Celina.
Anthony SHANE appears in a snake story.
Pg. 243
Mr. John SUTTON, an early settler,
while hunting
medicinal herbs for a sick horse, was bitten on the foot by a spotted
rattlesnake, when, as a remedy, his bitten foot was buried in the
ground. Anthony
SHANE was then sent for, who asked if
they had any black cats, saying he
could shortly with them cure the foot.
Being answered in the negative he killed some black chickens, dressed and applied them
to the foot and on the
third application pronounced it cured.
MENDON is eleven miles northeast of Celina, on the D. Ft. W. & C. R. R. Population, 1880, 242. School census, 1888, 144.
COLDWATER is five miles southwest of Celina, on the L. E. & W. and C. J. & M. Railroads. School census, 1888, 269.
MERCER is eight miles north of Celina, on the D. Ft. W. & C. R. R. School census, 1888, 129.
ST. HENRY is twelve miles southwest of Celina, on the C. J. & M. R. R. School census, 1888, 218.
First paper, the Western Standard, Celina, by Hunter & Barrington, 1848. The name was changed to the Mercer County Standard in 1866 when A. P. SNYDER was the sole proprietor. The paper, which has been owned by the Snyders for 80 years, is now published as a daily by F. A. SNYDER, and is the only paper in Celina. The Western Democrat came in 1874. Later it was called the Observer and was published in 1889 by L. S. Jameson & Co. Another extinct paper was the Independent, published for some years by J. E. BLIZZARD.
Rockford, formerly called Shane’s Crossing, has long been a publishing center, D. C. KINDER having begun there in 1883 the publication of the Press now published by George B. KINDER. The Ft. Recovery Journal (1891) is now published by E. T. HSTINGS. Other papers of the county are the Coldwater Chronicle by N. F. FAHNESTOCK, and the Mendon Herald by O. F. GEIGER.