CHAPTER I. OHIO--EARLY SETTLEMENTS.

From the time the Mayflower landed at Fort Harmar (Marietta) in 1788 until 1795, emigration had not materially increased the population of the North-west, owing to the unstable and dissatisfied condition of the Indians.

All this time, the soldier, who had served his time in the cause of independence and been honorably discharged without pay:--the poverty-stricken patriot, unable to procure subsistence for himself and family in the bankrupt colonies, had been listening to accounts of a land “flowing with milk and honey,” and was anxious to get there. It was described as a country “fertile as heart could wish:”--“fair to look upon, and fragrant with the thousand fresh odors of the woods in early spring.” The long cool aisles leading away into mazes of vernal green where the swift deer bounded by unmolested and as yet unscared by the sound of the woodman’s ax or the sharp ring of the rifle. “He could imagine the wooded slopes and the tall grass of the plain jeweled with strange and brilliant flowers;” but there the redman had his field of corn, and would defend his rights.

The success of General Wayne in procuring terms of peace with the warlike tribes of Indians in the spring of 1795, caused such an influx of emigration into the Ohio division of the North-west Territory, that in 1798 the population enabled the election of an Assembly which met the following year, and sent William Henry Harrison as a delegate to Congress. So rapidly did the country fill up with new settlements that the prospective state at the beginning of the nineteenth century was knocking at the door for admission, with all the pathways crowded by pedestrians--men, women, and children--dogs and guns; crossing the perilous mountains to reach a country where a home was a matter of choice, and subsistence furnished without money or price.

Where all these lovers of freedom and free soil came from, and how they got here, will ever remain a mystery next in obscurity to that of the Ancient Mound Builders. They brought with them the peculiarities of every civilized nation, and continued to come until Ohio became the beaten road to western homes beyond. They were God’s homeless poor--the file of a successful revolution--the founders of a republic. As such they accepted pay and bounty in wild lands--established homes of civilization, cultivated the arts and sciences, and soon increased in numbers, until they became a people powerful in war and influential in peace.

Men and women, the chosen best, of the entire world, by causes foreordained, were made the exponents of the axioms contained in the charter founding the great empire of freedom. They were strangers to luxury--unknown to the corroding influences of avarice, and unfamiliar with national vices. Their lives were surrounded with happiness, and they lived to a good old age, enjoying the pleasures of large families of children in a land of peace and plenty. These and their descendants are the “Squirrel Hunters” of history.

Kentucky had received her baptism into the Union in 1791, but afterward felt slighted and dissatisfied, looking toward secession, if the five proposed states, outlined by the act of 1787 as the North-west Territory, should constitute an independent confederacy. The opinion seemed to exist to no small extent, that the North-west was by necessity bound to become separated from the Atlantic States; and Kentucky was lending her influence to this end. Josiah Espy, in his “Tour in Ohio and Indiana in 1805,” says: “In traveling through this immense and beautiful country, one idea, mingled with melancholy emotions, almost continually presented itself to my mind, which was this: that before many years the people of that great tract of country would separate themselves from the Atlantic States, and establish an independent empire. The peculiar situation of the country, and the nature of the men, will gradually lead to this crisis; but what will be the proximate cause producing this great effect is yet in the womb of time. Perhaps some of us may live to see it. When the inhabitants of that immense territory will themselves independent, force from the Atlantic States to restrain them would be madness and folly. It can not be prevented.”

But the inhabitants of this immense territory had a better and clearer vision of the mission of this “vast empire;” it was to be the heart and controlling center of a great nation of freemen. And when Ohio, in 1803, entered the Union under the enabling act, binding the Government to construct a national highway from Cumberland to the Ohio river, and through the State of Ohio, as a bond of union between the East and West, no more was heard of secession until the rebellion of the sixties.

In 1821, a member of the Virginia legislature (Mr. Blackburn), in discussing the question of secession, claimed there ought to be an eleventh commandment, and taking a political view of it, said it should be in these words: “Thou shalt not, nor shall thy wife, thy son or thy daughter, thy man-servant or thy maid-servant, the stranger or sojourner within thy gates, dare in any wise to mention or hint at dissolution of the Union.” Mr. Blackburn did not live to see it, but the words of the commandment came sealed in blood and “were graven with an iron pen and lead in the rock forever.”

Many persons at the very dawn of independence felt the weakness of a union of such conflicting sentiments and interests as those of freedom and slavery, and were free in the expression that either slavery or freedom must rule and control the destinies of the nation--that the two could not, nor would not, co-operate peaceably in the same field.

Francis A. Walker, in “Making of the Nation,” says: “No one can rightly read the history of the United States who does not recognize the prodigious influence exerted in the direction of unreserving nationality by the growth of great communities beyond the mountains and their successive admission as states of the Union.” And the author apprehends “_great danger_” from the aversion of Western people to “measures proposed in the interests of financial integrity, commercial credit and national honor. ‘Having a predilection for loose laws regarding bankruptcies and cheap money has been a constant menace and a frequent cause of mischief.’ This, however, we may regard as due to the stage of settlement and civilization reached.”

No one, if he reads at all, can read otherwise than the “prodigious influence” of the Western States. To these the nation owes its freedom. Through this prodigious influence, slaves and slavery have been wiped out, national finance established with enlarged commercial credit, integrity and national honor. And if the history of the United States is correctly read, the country need fear no _danger_ from any _stage_ in the settlement and civilization of the North-west. The early pioneers of this lovely country brought with them from the South and East large stocks of patriotism perfumed with the firearms of a successful revolution; and it was prized more highly as it was chiefly all they had in a home where poverty was no disgrace, and a “poor-house” unknown in nature’s great empire. Their descendants inherited much, and increased their talents, and have under all circumstances been ready to render a favorable account and go up higher.

The residence of the immigrant was exceedingly primitive; still, it could not be said the log cabin of the pioneer made a cheerless home, by any means. Man retains too much of the unevolutionized not to find and enjoy the most pleasure in things nearest the heart of nature. Many pointers and pen pictures originating in these humble domiciles exist in evidence of the pleasure and satisfaction enjoyed by the early inhabitants, regardless of apparent privations, previous conditions or existing numbers.

Late in the fall of 1798 a revolutionary soldier wrote on the fly-leaf of his Bible that the “North-west Territory” made a delightful home, saying: “My footsteps always gladly hasten homeward; and when I pull the string and open the door, the delicious odor of roasting game and cornbread meets with smiles of hungry approbation. And with kisses for the children and blessings for a good wife, who could ask for more or a better home.”

Another in 1799--“We often talk of fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters and friends left behind, and wish them _here_. And as the holidays draw near we send them our wishes and prayers, for it is all we can do. There is no mail or carrier pigeon to cross the wilderness that takes any thing else.”

The pioneer believed in the declaration of the Ordinance of 1787, that “_Religion_, _Morality_, and _Knowledge_” were necessary to good government and happiness of mankind. Thanksgiving and Christmas were days of universal observation. The Star of Bethlehem was the Star of Empire, and rested as brightly over the North-west Territory as when shining on the little town in Judea.

During the first few years of pioneer life, new and interesting as it must have been, few persons, comparatively, kept a diary of social life and times; and of such accounts fewer still remain to the present. Yet the number is sufficient to show corroborating testimony or agreement with the following in substance taken from a family history of a father and mother who, with three small children, a dog and gun, and all their worldly goods, crossed the mountains on foot, by following the Indian trail--reaching the Ohio river, floated to the mouth of the Scioto on a temporary raft, and from the confluence pushed up its winding course over fifty miles in a “_dugout_” to the “High Bank Prairie,” near where Chillicothe now stands--making the trip from Eastern Pennsylvania in sixty-three days; arriving at the place of destination April 25, 1798--a day of thanksgiving ever after.

The first Christmas seen or enjoyed in the new home of this family would in the present era be considered out of date, but doubtless at the time was the duplicate of hundreds of others. The day, before the event, was set aside for procuring extra supplies from nature’s store-house, regardless of any signal service. A coon-skin cap and gloves--deer-skin breeches and leggins, and a wolf-skin “_hunting shirt_” made the weather right at all times with the hunter.

“Ay, this is freedom!--these pure skies Were never stained with village smoke: The fragrant wind that through them flies, As breathed from wastes by plough unbroke.

“Here with myrtle and my steed, And her who left the world for me, I plant me where the red deer feed In the green desert--and am free.”

Early in the morning on the 24th of December, 1798, this pioneer started out with dog and gun in pursuit of Christmas supplies. It was no small game day--a deer, moose, bear, or wild turkey must adorn the bill of fare for the Christmas dinner.

Before the sun had reached the meridian mark in the door-way, he returned loaded down with three turkeys and two grouse. The country made such a favorable impression, as soon as time and chance offered an opportunity, the husband sent a letter to a friend at Redstone, Penn., who had never seen Ohio, in which he recalls this hunt and the first Christmas he enjoyed in this lovely country, and which is here given in his own language:

“After dressing the game and making a present of a turkey and two grouse to a widow and two children across the river, I told Grace (my wife) that the man who got injured by the falling tree must have a turkey, and with her approbation I shouldered a dressed gobbler and delivered the kind remembrances of my wife to the unfortunate.

“When I returned, it was quite dark, but my mind was ill at ease, and I told Grace I thought we had better take the other turkey down to Rev. Dixon as he hunted but seldom, and a bird of the kind would appear quite becoming, in the presence of a large family of small children at a Christmas dinner. These suggestions met with hearty approval, and I started off to walk a half mile or more with a great dressed gobbler in one hand, a gun in the other, and dog in front.

“On arrival I found the latch-string drawn in, but a knock on the door soon caused an opening large enough to admit the procession. The presentation was made with an Irish speech, dilating and describing the virtues of the deceased; and wishing the minister, his Quaker Mission and his family a merry Christmas, I turned my steps homewards.

“On my return, Grace wished to know what I expected for our own dinner;--reminding me of the guests,--Samuel Wilkins and Benjamin James, who were looked for by invitation, I told her I had been thinking while on the way home from Mr. Dixon’s, that Dr. Hamberger and wife up at the ferry were nice folks, and the Dr. had been pretty busy in his ‘clearing’ lately, and that Jack and I would go, early in the morning, up to the beech bottom, and get a turkey for the Doctor, and one for us--I said ‘_Won’t we Jack_’--and Jack’s assent was at once made known by the wag of his tail.

“Christmas morning, before the breakfast hour, Jack and I returned with two gobblers, and throwing them down at the cabin door I exclaimed ‘they are heavy.’ As I did so ‘_a merry Christmas_’ from Grace rang out on the bare and frosty forest for the first time ever heard in that vicinity. ‘Oh! the poor birds’ (said Grace), ‘how nicely bronzed they are--who is it that paints those iridescent colors? I never saw a happier pair than you and Jack make.’ I replied, ‘they are beautiful birds, but if I’d had my wits about me, I could have shown the best woman west of the Alleghanies the nicest fat fawn she ever looked at. But I was hunting for turkeys, and did not see it quite soon enough, and let it go without a shot. Never mind,’ I said, ‘I’ll be there in a day or two’--and I was.”

The hunter states that he dressed the game, left a turkey in the doctor’s cabin, and then assisted Grace in placing a twenty pound bird on a wooden spit to roast for dinner.

Before noon the invited guests came and after pleasantly reviewing army scenes and political, social and literary prospects of the people coming to the unbroken wilderness of the North-west, dinner was announced from the kitchen dining-room and parlor; and a more intellectual and jolly company has probably not assembled at a Christmas dinner since 1798. The guests had filled important positions in the general government, and were both natives of New York; while the host was from Dublin, and hostess an English lady, a former resident of London--all educated people, and knew how to entertain and partake of social and mental enjoyments.

The good pioneer became schooled to a quiet, but heroic submission to the unavoidable; and in this virtue Grace was recognized a model throughout the settlement. Still she manifested the greatest sorrow one could well express in the loss of the souvenir she had so carefully preserved and protected from damage during the long and perilous journey to Ohio. A large English Bible, printed in the infancy of the art, containing the family coat of arms and record for over four hundred years, with a chart of unbroken line of descent for near one thousand years. All was lost in the burning of their cabin in 1812.

The pioneer and his good wife lived to enjoy with these three children and grandchildren, forty-six returns of the Star of Bethlehem, near where the first Christmas day was seen in Ohio; and the writer has often heard the aged couple recite with feelings of delightful remembrance the first Christmas in Ohio as the dearest and most enchanting of all others.

A country by nature so lovely exerted no little influence on the civilization and character of its early, but mixed inhabitants. They all were, or soon became, genial, warm-hearted, kind, neighborly and obliging, in a sense unknown to phases of civilization connected with affluent circumstances. They generally settled at short distances from each other, to better enable them to render mutual assistance, and also protection in times of danger. Much of the labor necessary to open up a new country of this character could not be performed “weak-handed” as “rolling logs,” building cabins, opening roads, etc.; and when a new arrival appeared in the settlement and announced his desire to remain, all the neighborhood would cheerfully turn out, and with shovels, axes and augurs assemble at some designated spot in the forest, and work from day to day until a domicile was completed. Although entirely gratuitous, the construction of these log-houses was a business of experience. First, trees were cut down sufficiently to make an opening for sunlight, and site to place the cabin; then logs of determined diameter and length were cut and placed in position, one above another, and by notching the corners in a manner calculated to make them lie closely together, the whole became very substantial and binding. Cross-logs made sleepers and joists, and similar logs of different lengths formed the gables, and which were held together by supports for the roof in a way truly primitive and ingenious. It was covered with clap-boards four or five feet long, split from oak timber, placing them in the usual way to turn rain, and securing their position by a sufficient number of heavy poles or split pieces of timber reaching the length of the roof at right angles to the boards. The weight pole at the eaves was made stationary by the projecting ends of the top logs at the corners of the building, and the others were prevented from rolling down and off the building by intervening blocks of wood placed parallel with the clap-boards, one end resting against the pole at the eaves and the other end acting as a stop to the pole next above; and so on to the comb of the roof. The floor, if not of earth, was made of puncheons or long clap-boards. The door was constructed of heavy pieces of split timber, joined to the cross-sections, or battens with wooden pins. One end of the lower and upper battens was made to project far enough beyond the side of the door, and large enough to admit an auger hole of an inch and a half to form part of the hinge for the door. The battens and hinges were placed on the inside, also the latch, to which a strong string was attached, and passed through a small hole a short distance above, terminating on the outside. By pulling the string the latch was raised and the door opened by persons without. At night, the string was pulled in, which made a very secure and convenient fastening, in connection with the two great wooden pins that projected on the line of the top of the door to prevent it from being raised off the hinges when closed. It is quite probable, as has often been suggested, this primitive latch and lock combination gave rise to the saying “you will find the latch-string always out.”

There were no windows; but, if one was attempted, it consisted of a small opening without frame, sash, or glass, and was covered with a piece of an old garment or greased paper. The chimney formed the most important, as well as singular, part of the structure. It was built upon the outside, and joined to the cabin some five or six feet in height at the base, and then contracted, forming a stem detached from the building and terminating short of its height. The materials used in its construction consisted of sticks and mud, and when completed resembled somewhat in shape an immense bay window, or an overgrown parasite. The logs of the building were cut away at the chimney so as to give a great opening into this mud pen for a fireplace, and which sometimes had a back-wall made of clay, shale, or stone. The crevices between the logs were filled with small pieces of split wood and clay mortar, both on the inside and outside. Numerous augur holes were bored in the logs, and pins driven in to hang articles of apparel and cooking utensils on. Two pins in particular were always so arranged as to receive the gun, and perhaps under which might be seen a pair of deer antlers to honor the powder-horn and bullet pouch.

To erect a rude cabin of this kind would frequently occupy all the persons in a neighborhood three or four days; and, when finished, made a very humble appearance in the midst of the natural grandeur of its surroundings. Even after the occupants were domiciliated, the addition of their worldly goods added but little to the unostentatious show of comfort. In the absence of facilities for transportation, the pioneer was obliged to leave most every thing behind; or, worse perhaps, had nothing but family, dog, and gun to bring with him; so the furniture of his new home consisted of a bedstead made of poles--a table from a split log;--a chair in the shape of a three-legged stool;--a bench, and a short shelf or two. The utensils for cooking were quite as limited and simple, and corresponded in usefulness and decoration most admirably with the furniture; generally consisting of a kettle, “skillet,” stew-pan, a few pewter dishes, and gourds. These with an occasional souvenir, or simple article that could be easily carried from the “Old Home,” made up the invoice of the inside of the cabin of the pioneer.

Notwithstanding the apparent scanty comforts in the house, they were more imaginary than real. It required but little exertion to keep the larder supplied with the choicest beasts, birds, and fish, which with hominy, or, still better, the corn dodger, shortened with turkey fat or bear’s oil, and baked in the ashes--or that climax, the “johnny-cake” well browned and piping hot on the board in front of a grand open fire--constituted a substantial diet that might be envied by those of the present day. In addition to these, there was no lack of pumpkins, potatoes, turnips, beans, berries,[1] honey, and maple sugar, and the early settler had little reason to sigh for the delicacies of a more advanced civilization.

Sugar making was an attractive calling and one of the pioneers’ money-making industries, although sugar groves were scattered over the entire state. The trees, by nature, were gregarious, growing in clusters from hundreds to thousands so thickly set over the ground that few if any other varieties could find room to maintain a standing. There are a few of the older crop of sugar trees still remaining; but the great “_camps_” that furnished sweets in abundance have, with other varieties of timber, fallen victims to the woodman’s ax.

It has been suggested that the yearly “_tapping_” might injure the growth and shorten the longevity of the trees; but both experiment and observation tend to sustain the opposite opinion. A tree that has been under the notice of the writer for more than seventy years, and has been tapped in three to four places every year for the period named, is still a beautiful, healthy, growing tree.

It may be correct, that “it takes more than one swallow to make a summer;” but the evidence shown in the wood made into lumber after many years “_tapping_” for “_sugar water_” (not sap), is not significant of injury or decay. The cut made by the auger is soon closed over, which, no doubt, would be different if the sugar was obtained from “_the sap_” or wood-producing fluid. The fluid which contains the sugar is no nearer the “_sap_” (or blood of the tree) than is the milk, or other cellular secretion of a gland, near or identical with the blood or life sustaining and constructive element of animal existence.

A pioneer who owned a small cluster of sugar trees made his own sugar and some to spare, while those working camps of several thousand trees made it a “profitable calling and supplied others at reasonable rates of exchange,” so no one had occasion to stint or reason to complain. It required some labor and expense to equip a camp for making sugar; but once furnished, the material lasted many years. During the time unoccupied, the furnace and kettles under the shed would be surrounded with a temporary fence--the sugar-troughs, spiles, sled, water-barrel, funnel-buckets, etc., at the ending of the sugar season would be safely housed to remain until the next year. As soon as the icy earth began giving way to mild sunshining days in the latter part of winter, it was considered by the “_sugar-maker_” as the announcement of the near approach of “_sugar weather_.” At such times, on like indications, the “_sugar-troughs_” would be taken from the place of deposit and distributed to the trees; the better ones getting the larger troughs. The water-barrel underwent inspection--the funnel refitted--sled repaired--the pile of dry wood increased--store-room or annex renovated--tubs and buckets soaked--shortage of “_spiles_” and “_sugar-troughs_” made good--furnace and kettles cleaned, and every thing made ready for the work.

After this, the first clear frosty morning with the prospect of a thawing day, a man would be seen with an auger passing rapidly from tree to tree, closely followed by another, with a basket and hatchet, who “_drove the spiles_” and set the troughs as fast as the one with the auger made the holes.

It would have astonished a Havemeyer[2] to witness the rapidity with which the “_tapping_” was accomplished. In a few moments the surrounding forest seemed sparkling with the beauties of the rainbow, and echoing the music of falling waters, each tree dripping, dripping with a rapidity suggestive of a race and wager held by Nature for the one that first filled the assigned trough with sparkling gems.

A “_run_” of sugar-water was not dependent upon a special act of Congress, nor was the product a subject for public revenue. It was limited, however, to frosty nights and warmer days; and when a number of consecutive days and nights remained above or below freezing, the “_sugar-water_” would cease to flow, often making it necessary to remove the “_spiles_” and freshen the auger-hole at the next run to insure the natural ability of the tree.

Sugar manufactured in those days was made from the black maple or sugar tree. This tree was very productive--in an ordinary season would run ten or twelve gallons each in twenty-four hours, and during the season average enough for ten to fifteen pounds of sugar--the better trees have been known to produce over fifty pounds each in an ordinary season. This, however, was before Congress suspected a trust and combine would be a good thing for the common people or got up the Luxow investigation and whitewash of the sugar business by New York. The sugar maker knows quite well the kind of days he could obtain a run of “sugar-water,” and for that purpose one or more holes were bored into the tree three to five inches deep, and “spiles” driven in to conduct the fluid into the sugar-trough.

The “spiles” that conducted the water from the tree to the trough were made from sections of elder or sumac, eight or ten inches in length, shaved down to the pith from three inches of one end, which formed the shoulder, made tapering to close the auger hole of the usual size, three-fourths of an inch. The pith in the shoulder and body of the spile was removed so as to form a channel for the sugar-water to escape. The sugar-trough was a short trough two to four feet long made of some light wood, as the white walnut, and were carefully charred on the inside or concavity to prevent the injury of the delicate flavor of the sugar. Many persons, familiar with higher mathematics and languages named in the curriculum of Yale or Harvard, as well as words and phrases used in athletic games, and manly arts of self-defense, would be turned down if asked to describe or name the uses of many very simple things to an Ohio “squirrel hunter” of three score and ten years.

No doubt there are many more persons that have seen and felt the great Congressional Sugar Trust and Combine than are now living who have seen the headquarters of one of those primitive “_sugar camps_,” with its row of kettles placed over a furnace--under an open shed--parallel with and near the kettles under this shed, a reservoir made from a section of a large tulip tree, to hold the excess of gathered water during the day for night boiling--the sled and mounted barrel with, a sugar-trough funnel--the annex near the furnace to obtain light and heat, with other primitive articles or things connected with and used in the manufacture of sugar.

The annex or temporary residence of those running the camp was generally a strong well-built cabin with one door, but no window. The door occasionally showed a want of confidence by being ornamented with a heavy padlock and chain. This little building entertained many a jolly crowd. It was the manufacturer’s office, storeroom, parlor, bedroom and restaurant. It was always a pleasant place to spend an evening, and, still more, a delightfully-sweet place on “_stirring-off_” days--to watch the golden bubbles burst in air and with noisy efforts rising to escape, driven back by their master with the enchantment of a fat-meat pill and made to dance to the tune of Yankee Doodle Dandy; for then was the time to dip and cool the wooden “_paddle_,” and taste again and again the charming sweetness of maple sugar in its native purity.

But in less than a century sugar-trees, sugar-troughs, and pioneer sugar making have been classed with things of the past, scarcely known by the many, and remembered but by a few; and shows how soon time makes abandoned words and many simple expressions of facts obsolete and unknown. When it is said, “In infancy he was rocked in a sugar-trough,” the language to many is as figurative, hypothetical or meaningless as the “lullaby upon the tree tops.” The younger generations never saw the pioneer cradle, and Noah Webster did not get far enough West to incorporate the word in his “Revised Dictionary.”

The ordinary use of sugar-troughs was to catch and hold the sweet water as it dripped from the “_spile_” placed in the sugar-tree. But under certain circumstances good specimens were devoted to other purposes, and not a few eminent lawyers, doctors, statesmen and divines have proudly referred to their cradling days as those having been well spent in the pioneer environment of a “sugar-trough.”

The sugar made from trees was gradually superseded by cane and beet productions; and the supply has always remained equal to the demand at moderate prices; and not until 1887 did the country discover the necessity of a “Sugar Trust” to control and regulate the trade of the United States. This combine started with a capital of seven million dollars, capitalized at fifty millions, and again was watered up to seventy-five millions. This trust controlled four-fifths to ninety-eight per cent of all the refined sugar in the United States.

The president of this trust has been receiving an annual salary of one hundred thousand dollars and the secretary seventy-five thousand. The stockholders have absorbed as dividends nearly four hundred million dollars in the eleven years of its existence, while thousands of its employes obtain but six dollars a week, working twelve hours each day in rooms at a temperature not much below two hundred degrees. The scales of justice are not often evenly balanced in trust monopolies that yield a net income of five hundred per cent profit on the capital invested.

The pioneer, however, had no use for “combines” to keep him poor, for like many facts not admitted or recognized at the time, good subsistence was so easily obtained from nature that it frequently contributed much toward creating an indifference for labor, which remained through life and kept the man of destiny no better off than when he arrived at his new home. It was no easy task to clear the land and prepare the soil for agricultural purposes. As a rule the timber was large and thickly set upon the ground; usually the best soil was covered with the greatest trees, and the labor required for their removal was not inviting to those who could subsist well without it. The white oak, burr oak, black oak, black walnut, sycamore, poplar, and other varieties, had for centuries been adding size and strength to their immense proportions. These giants, and the smaller timber and undergrowth, required great energy, perseverance and protracted labor to remove and clear the ground ready for a crop. The usual plan for their removal was by “girdling,” or cutting a circle around the trunk of each sufficiently deep to kill the tree, and then to burn by piece-meals as the branches and trunks came down by reason of time and decay. Consequently the patch of sunshine around these primitive homes, as a rule, did not enlarge very rapidly, and the pioneer too often became a man of procrastination and promise; and for all the time he had (the present) preferred the dog and gun to the maul and wedge as a means of subsistence. Some, however, opened up small fields and farms by disposing of the timber in this slow way. In the meantime, while the process of decay was going on, grain and vegetables were grown in the openings among the dead timber. The crops were generally divided pretty equally between the wild animals and the landlord. This loss, however, was of no great importance as there was no money, market, or mill; nor domestic animals to take a surplus. At a later day, and after the introduction of “movable mills,”[3] there still existed no market for the products of the soil, and to grow enough for food seemed all that could be required of the most ambitious pioneer; and if at any time the returns exceeded the estimates and insured a surplus, such overabundance seldom went to waste, as there were always enough who yearly came short in this respect, and were ready to share with the more prosperous neighbor.

The time and labor expended upon clearing the ground and raising grain met with little or no reward. The products could not be sold nor exchanged for necessaries of life. Consequently the forests remained quite undisturbed for many years and agriculture neglected, excepting for the necessary consumption of the family. The early settler, however, was not all the time free from discouragements. His domestic animals frequently became lost, or destroyed by ravenous beasts; and diseases of the country occasionally were protracted; and to the wife and children, he sometimes felt, it was not so much a paradise. But he came to stay, and this, for better or for worse, was his home, and submitted philosophically to circumstances and events he could not control.

The wife and mother endured with patience and heroism all privations and afflictions equally with the husband and father, and performed the arduous household duties; and, like the model woman of old, “sought wool and flax and worked willingly with her hands,” and the whirring spinning-wheel and thudding loom were heard in most every household. The welfare of the family depended upon the success of home industries, and consequently the wife had much less leisure than the husband. She superintended the manufacture of all the fabrics for the house and for the clothing of the family, and cut and made up the same without protection, tariff, rebate, or combine. And it is singular so little has been recorded of the good women who unlocked the resources of the new territory and gave their aid in founding a civilization that has surpassed all precedents in the history of nations.

Natives of every country and of every grade of intelligence in the new environment became alike distinguished for liberality and hospitality--ever desirous to forget the past, willing to admit the future, and ready to enjoy the present, the life of the pioneer was seldom darkened or overburdened with toil or care, and had times of good cheer, and was not without his social amusements. The violin and Monongahela whisky found way to the settlements and were accepted by many, young and old; and the dance after a quilting, shooting-match, fox-chase, bear-hunt, log-rolling, or house-raising gave all the pleasure and excitement desired.

As the population became more numerous, leisure and the desire for amusements increased; and among the many ways devised to entertain and interest, no one, perhaps, ever received more attention, higher cultivation, and obtained more general favor than the chase. Most descendants of Virginia, however destitute in other respect, had their packs of “hounds,” and the good people and the better, the poor and the poorer, some on horse and some on foot, mingled alike in the exciting sport.

The pedigrees, qualities, and performances of “lead dogs” of different owners were known over the country, and their comparative merits were frequently subjects that called forth the warmest discussions, the disputants generally ending the controversy with knock-down arguments on both sides. The owners of the dogs always manifested great pride and satisfaction in public praises and good will toward their animals, and no offense received a greater condemnation than the theft or injury of one of these “noblemen’s pets.”

Whenever a “pack” failed in having a good “leader” and “poked,” they lost their reputation at once and forever. And many trips were made on horseback through the wilderness over the mountains to South Branch, or other points in Virginia, on pretext of other business, when the real purpose proved to be “fresh blood,” or perhaps a pack of dogs that could take the front. They were brought through on foot, chained one behind another in double file, with a chain between, and horse in front, resembling the transportation of surplus of the “divine” institution in the days of John Brown. New importations, however, did not often give satisfaction. As a rule, the dogs of the finest scent and greatest endurance and speed were bred in Ohio. Such were McNeal’s “Nick,” Jordan’s “Sam,” Anderson’s “Magnet,” Renick’s “Pluto the Swift,” McDowell’s “Yelp,” Colonel Vause’s “Clynch,” and a host of others that never saw a “bench-show,” but were awarded the highest praises by men who filled their places as well in the chase, as many of them did, important public positions in after life. And in the written history of these notable contests for superiority is the circumstance, if not the day, when Colonel Vause’s little blue hound, his lead dog, “Clynch,” outwinded and distanced all the other “packs” as well as his own companions, and pursued the deer alone so inveterately, the poor animal, confused or to confuse, ran to the town of Chillicothe and into the open, empty jail, and was there captured.

But of all the dogs known to have taken part in amusing the people of destiny; or aided the advancing strides of civilization, none ever attracted such universal attention, and enjoyed that wide-spread fame as that given to “_Gibbs’ Stray Pup_.”

Quite early in the fall, when as yet the frosts had but slightly tinted the woodland foliage, some hunters while after turkeys, saw a dog in hot pursuit of a deer, and so close was the chase that the fatigued animal leaped from a high bank into deep water in Paint Creek and expired immediately. This dog proved to be a little half-starved, lemon, black and white pup, not more than seven months old, and having around his neck a section of dilapidated bed cord. Such a performance by a strange pup so very young and alone, attracted no little attention and talk, especially among the sporting gentlemen, who kept first-class dogs, and doted more upon their hounds than upon their lands and houses. Mr. James Gibbs was one of these, and by right of discovery, took the pup in charge and named him “Gamer.” The dog proved a stray in the settlement, and no owner could be found, and mere supposition gave a satisfactory explanation. “The pup had broken away from an emigrant wagon to get after the deer.”

At maturity, true to instinct, Gamer refused to follow deer, but became the embodiment of all the virtues and qualifications of a thoroughbred fox-hound. His fleetness, his extraordinary “_cold nose_,” or ability to carry a “cold trail;” his industry, perseverance, and sagacity, made him the model and marvel of all who knew him. He always led the pack far in advance, and so exact was he to hound nature, that in case the fox doubled short and came back near enough to be seen and turned upon by all the other dogs, he would continue around the course and unravel every winding step. His voice was quite as marked and remarkable as any of his other qualities: so much so, that for many years it lingered in the ears of surviving friends like the far-off echo of an Alpine horn. He could be distinctly heard across the great valley, bounded east by the Rattlesnake and west by Patton and Stone Monument Hills, a distance of more than five miles in an air line. His cry was musical, prolonged and varied, opening with a deep loud bass, and closing with a high, clear note, it would come to the listener sharp and distinct, solitary and alone, when the united cry of all the pack would be dead in the distance.

An accurate likeness with minute description of this dog has been preserved--height, above the average fox-hound; length, medium; head, long and narrow and well elevated when running; under jaw, three-fourths of an inch short, which gave a pointed appearance to the face; eye, intellectual and gamy, but of a most singular yellow color; ears, long and thin, but not wide; neck, slim and clean; shoulders, firm; chest, deep, the breast-bone projecting so as to make a perpendicular offset of two inches; back, quite straight; loins, not wide; hind legs, unusually straight; hams, thin, flat and tapering; tail, slim, medium length, little curved, and hair short towards the tip; color, white, excepting a large black spot on each side of the chest, tipped with lemon; a small black spot joined to a lemon spot on each hip or root of the tail, lemon head and ears, with small black spot behind each ear. Altogether a fine appearing dog, especially when engaged in the chase: and before two years old, was held in high esteem by the owner.

The popularity of Gamer was now fast gaining ground, as his performances were casting shadows over dogs of high repute, and many things were attempted to silence the repeated huzzahs that came in at the end of every chase for “Gibb’s Stray Pup.” Years rolled on, pack after pack, pick after pick were pitted against the “pup” to no purpose excepting to widen the difference by comparison.

A single incident taken from many that might be given, will sufficiently illustrate the superior qualities of this remarkable dog, as well as the usual success attendant upon the efforts to detract from his merited superiority by running picked hounds with him in the chase. A number of persons in every neighborhood kept hounds, and each owner considered himself the possessor of a small fortune, consisting at least of one animal that was considered faster and truer than any one belonging to a neighbor; and it was an easy matter at any time to summon on short notice fifteen to thirty of these favorites surrounded by a conflict of good opinions. On the 11th of November, 18--, twenty gentlemen, some of whom afterwards rose to high political and judicial eminence in the history of the state and nation, met by agreement and entered the forest at four o’clock in the morning with twelve dogs, the pick of the best packs known in the state. The atmosphere was still, white frost hung on the trees all day; the ground was but little frozen, and other things perhaps conspired to make it favorable, as hunters say, “for scent to lay.”

The dogs soon struck a cold trail, perhaps where the fox had been the previous evening, and which could be followed but slowly. Before midday, it became too cold for all the dogs excepting Gamer and two old hounds, one of which was famous for his “cold nose.” The latter dogs, however, were unable to get scent excepting in favorable places; and, by three o’clock in the afternoon, they too were out, and no longer able to render assistance. Gamer still kept at work trailing Reynard’s footsteps so closely, that on his way he entered an old vacant cabin, declaring most emphatically that Reynard had been there, showing that even on the dry ground and probably more than ten hours after the presence of the animal, there was enough found to call forth a most vigorous cry.

When more than half a mile from this cabin, the trail was lost, and half an hour was consumed, with all the dogs in circuits, to no purpose. While engaged in these efforts to strike the track, the wonderful “pup” raised his voice most significantly at the very spot where he had ceased his cry. He had discovered the track and commenced a rapid backward march in the precise line over the same ground he had passed but a short time before. When within fifteen or twenty rods of the old vacant cabin, he turned off through a “deadening” in the direction of Mount Logan, showing that, notwithstanding the fox had retraced his steps for a long distance, the sagacious hound detected the fact after going over the ground, and that, too, when the trail was so very cold that no other dog in the chase could take the scent.

From Mount Logan the trail was leading through thicker timber, and Reynard had been zig-zagging here and there, in search, perhaps, of birds and rodents for his supper the night before, walking on logs and limbs of trees whenever near his intended line of march. Here, the dog quite knowingly changed his tactics, and for two hours ran at more than half speed from log to log, right to left, with nose close to the bark and decayed wood, as he rapidly passed, would let out his encouraging cry.

In this way he followed the crooked course until the close of the day, carrying a trail for thirteen hours, which the fox had passed at no point less than ten hours before, following it, too, more than three hours after the best and most renowned dogs ever in Ohio were silent. It was now dusk, the timber sparse and logs few, making the chances seemingly more unfavorable. So, the hunters who had been on the go for fifteen hours, and without the substantials of life for twenty-four hours, concluded to quit, and, calling the dogs to follow, turned in the direction of the by-path leading toward home. All the dogs were very ready to obey, excepting Gamer, who only stopped for a moment to gaze at his retreating masters, and then resumed his work, in which he became more and more interested as the day passed on. It was thought, however, he would soon quit and overtake his companions but, before the hunters had gone a mile, Gamer’s starting cry was heard; he had winded Reynard where he had stopped to spend the day high up the mountain side. Every hound knew it was no cry on a cold trail, and turned and went off at the top of their speed. Soon Gamer could be heard over ridges and hills far away; and the hunters, thinking the run would be made in the broken mountains, went home. A squirrel hunter in that vicinity, who obtained Reynard’s “brush,” reported the fox so closely pressed, that he soon doubled, came back, and entered a hollow log near his cabin, and was captured. The time given showed the run was finished in less than an hour after the hunters left.

The sense called “power of scent” is exceedingly delicate in the dog, enabling him to follow the course of one animal amid a multitude of “tracks” made by others of the same species. This power of discrimination is frequently manifest even in the common house-dog as he traces the footsteps of his master or those of his master’s horse through crowded thoroughfares and winding ways, although hundreds of similar feet have passed over the ground after the walk of the one he seeks was made. But, to tell any one but an old foxhunter that it was possible to find perfection in a dog sufficiently, under the most favorable circumstances, to run all day on a trail ten hours’ _cold_, would be deemed purely chimerical.--Gamer is no more.--James Gibbs has long been numbered with the dead.--And of those who participated in and enjoyed the pleasures of that day’s chase but one remains a living witness of the facts herein stated--the old Roman--the Hon. Allen G. Thurman.--It is a notable fact, that in after years, when those Ohio boys no longer resembled the festive _hunter_, they always gave a smile of pleasure at the mention of those merry times; and, even in old age, when oppressed with the heavy hand of time, nothing awakened the flush of youthful pride and satisfaction like the rehearsal of the deeds of the hound that had no equal in the history of the country--“_Gibbs’ Stray Pup_.”

The exterior beauties of an animal are always attractive. But more than these do we admire those qualities termed intelligence, instinct, and reason in their beneficent relations to man and the external world. The dog possesses a most wonderful harmony in form and faculties. He is the type and embodiment of beauty, strength, and freedom of motion combined with endurance, courage, zeal, fidelity, constancy, and uncompromising affection. For these reasons he is of all man’s friends, the most valuable, the truest, and the best. So devoted and unchangeable is his love, that he is ever ready to sacrifice his life to save his master from threatened injury. He long remembers a kindness, and soon forgives ill usage. At an early age he obtains a knowledge of the meaning of words in the language of his master, and understands and obeys commands; and with that retentive memory which animals possess, he never falters or forgets. The story of Ulysses and his favorite is but the citation of the tenacity of memory which belongs to the species. After twenty years--

“Near to the gates, conferring as they drew Argus, the dog his ancient master knew, And not unconscious of the voice and tread, He knew his lord, he knew, and strove to meet; In vain he strove to crawl and kiss his feet; Yet, all he could, his tail, his ears, his eyes Salute his master and confess his joys.”

From prince to beggar, all the same--the only friend neither misfortune nor poverty can drive away. He is watchful and bold, and with delight guards his master’s house and herds from thieves and rapacious animals, and by his various services has accomplished for man’s happiness and advancement in civilization _more than all other agencies combined_. Without this aid, man would scarcely have maintained his existence on earth. “When he had ‘evolved’ to the ape,”[4] and “for safety lived in tree-tops with monkeys and squirrels,” his security and advancement was not so probably due to the suggestive “club” as to _training_ of dogs, which is given by the great naturalist, Buffon, as the first art invented by man.

By means of dogs, the rapacious animals common to new or uninhabited countries are captured or driven to the rear of advancing population. Almost every emigrant in the earlier settlements of Ohio, from necessity, became more or less a hunter with dogs, not only to provide for the family, but as a profit in ridding the locality of thieving varments with which the forests were overrun. The pelts of fur animals were a legal tender, and were received as contributions and payment of debts. And the bark of the industrious dog was in this way transformed into literary and religious institutions of the country. And if not for his dogship, the “North-west” would be a wilderness still, inhabited by wild animals. The great naturalist says: “To determine the importance of the species in the order of nature, let us suppose it never had existed.” Without the assistance of the dog, how could man be able to tame and reduce other animals into slavery? How could he discover, hunt, and destroy noxious and savage beasts? To preserve his own safety, and to render himself master of the animated world, it was necessary to make friends among those animals whom he found capable of attachment to oppose them to others; therefore, the training of dogs seems to have been the first art invented by man, and the first fruit of that art was the conquest and peaceable possession of the earth.

Many species of animals have greater agility, swiftness, and strength, as well as greater courage than man. Nature has furnished them better. And the dog not only excels in these, but also in the senses--hearing, seeing, and smelling; and to have gained possession over a tractable and courageous species like the dog, was acquiring new or additional agility, swiftness, strength, and courage with a mysterious increase of power and usefulness of the more important senses. And by the friendship and superior faculties of the dog, man became permanently sovereign and master of all.

“The dog is the only animal whose talents are evident, and whose education is always successful.”[5]

No better picture, portraying the noble qualities of the dog could be given than that by Buffon. And why this close observer of nature should say--“Without having like man _the faculty of thought_,” has always seemed strange. It sounds like a misprint, or an error in translation. Thought is the exercise of the mind--reflection, meditation, consideration, conception, conclusion, judgment, design, purpose, intention, solicitude, anxious care, concern, etc.

Who is there, even with ordinary acquaintance with the animal, that has not witnessed some if not all these attributes of “_thought_?” Most writers on the subject have shown a desire to give the human animal some distinguishing quality or faculty above all others, but their line of demarcation between man and the rest of animal creation has not been altogether successful, as man can not claim by the high authority that he is the only species that has the something called “_spirit_,” which is necessary in order “_to think_;” for the sacred book teaches that man and beast are alike in this, but the _spirit_ of man goeth upward, while the _spirit_ of the beast goeth downward to the earth, and which in anti-bellum days constituted a knotty text for Southern theologians who taught that “_niggers and dogs_” have no souls.

An eminent Scotch clergyman, who has made a study of natural history believes that dogs are possessed of the same faculties as man, differing only in degrees. He asserts that conscience in man and conscience in the dog are essentially the same things. And Charles Dickens declares that dogs have a moral nature--an unmistakable ability to distinguish between right and wrong, which led him to believe the difference in the dog nature and the so-called spiritual nature in man was imperceptible, and that future existence rested upon like natural foundations.

It would be holding conclusions in opposition to all rules of observation to say that dogs and other animals are destitute of the faculty of “_thought_.” When the awful torrents came sweeping down upon Johnstown the terrible waves and debris dashed over housetops and Mrs. Kress was carried away by the wild current in an instant beyond human help, her faithful dog, unmindful of himself, jumped after her, and when he saw her dress come to the surface, seized and carried her to another housetop. Soon this house was demolished, but Romeo kept the head of Mrs. Kress out of water and battled with the raging current and floating timber for more than half an hour before he reached the roof of another house, where she was taken up unconscious with fright and exhaustion. When the dog saw the motionless condition of his mistress he barked and howled and made pitiful demonstrations of grief, for he “_thought_” she was dead; but when she breathed he became delighted and manifested his joy in a way that could not be mistaken.

For eight summers a little cocker spaniel (Archos) was daily with the writer in field and forest, and to his industry and sagacity is due no small part of the success in obtaining fresh specimens for the life size, hand-colored work by Mrs. N. E. Jones, entitled, “The Illustrations of the Nests and Eggs of Birds of Ohio.” Many of the rare small birds build on or near the ground in thick cover, and among those he was credited with finding may be mentioned the obscure nest and eggs of the Helminthophaga pinus--Blue-winged yellow warbler, and the nest of the Geothlypistrichas--Maryland yellow-throat. He knew the object of pursuit as well as his master, and delighted in finding these little homes, and would stand firmly on a point, as it was understood between us that the bird must be shot when flushed for positive identification. He knew what his master was doing, for he understood the meaning of almost all words used in ordinary conversation, and could transact business on orders with admirable accuracy.

While out with a friend quail shooting, the sun was warm and we sat down on the cool grass in a fence corner shaded by the dead leaves on an oak bush. The little cocker was panting with heat and enjoyed the shade quite as much as his master. Soon a voice was heard from my friend, on the opposite border of a large field, calling: “Send Archos over here. I have a dead bird my dog can’t find.” The cocker paid no attention to the call, and no reply was made by the writer. And to show how much a dog may acquire of the meaning of words in a few years, I said to Archos in a conversational tone, as he ceased panting and fixed his great dark eyes on the speaker: “Ed has lost a dead bird--he can not find it; you go over and get it.” No sooner said than the little fellow started off in the tall ragweed which covered the field, and unknown to my friend scented the dead bird and brought it and laid it at my feet, all the time smiling and wagging the tail, as much as to say, “I would like to tell you how nicely that was done, but I can’t talk--dare not.”

Bab says: “Away back in some old book there is a story how dogs used to talk, and were men’s advisers. One day a great prince met a beautiful woman, and despite of the advice of the dog who was his counselor, he married her, and he made her cousin, a beggar, his prime minister. Amid the festivities, the dog warned the prince to watch the woman, told the prince that she was unfaithful, that her cousin was her lover, and that between them they would rob the kingdom and drive him from the throne. He turned on the dog and cursed him--cursed him so that this good friend, looking at the prince, said: ‘Until men are grateful and women are faithful, I and my kind will never speak again.’”

The world has grown older and better, but for the peace of society and quiet of social relations, it’s well he still holds his tongue. Professor Garner, who has devoted much time to the study of animals in this country and in Africa, has confirmed the general observation of those familiar with rural life to be true: that cattle--as horses, sheep, hogs and other animals--talk among their kind. What there is to be detected in the manner of delivery of the same sound, giving out entirely different sensations, is yet to be discovered. The squeal of the hungry pig, repeated by the phonograph, only increases the hunger and squeal of the pig that hears it; while to repeat the similar squeal of a pig in pain, at once causes manifest fear, anger and distress in all the pigs that hear it. And it must be so--all domestic animals do think and reason, and not unoften are enabled to make their thoughts known by signs and sounds to those to whom they look for help and comfort other than their kind.

Dogs are utilized extensively in Germany and other parts of Europe as draft animals. The United States consul says, in the large, wealthy and industrial city of Leige, and throughout Belgium, dogs are used for delivery of goods by all the trades of the city. While they are used as hewers of wood and drawers of water, the species is the most versatile in talents of the animal creation--and the dog makes the most accurate critic, the most successful detective, most reliable witness, best sentinel and most trustworthy friend.

Persons do not stop to think there is a world of intelligence, love and affection outside the human head and heart, and innocently ask, “What makes the dog heed every word when his master says ‘you can not go with me this time?’ What makes him place himself at the most observing point and look wistfully after his departing friends until they disappear in the distance? Why does he stay, perchance all day, at a favorable point to hear or see a returning approach, anxiously waiting and watching, and at the well-known and accurately distinguished sounds of the footsteps of his master’s horse from all others, runs to meet his master, and barks and laughs and cries with joy and gladness?” The beneficence of creation gives the answer in a world of unselfish love.

Dogs know nothing of hypocrisy--are always sincere--never lie--dislike ridicule--and never accept nor offer a joke.

The dog has been recognized as valuable property by his owner in every age, nation and people on the face of the earth; but with no staple market price any more than there is for that of the horse. The consideration is determined by amount of education, usefulness or purposes which he is capable of fulfilling.

Colonel D. D. Harris, of Mendon, Michigan, refused more than once ten thousand dollars for his famous sable Scotch Collie. He was a dog of such note, with the refined people of the world, that he was privileged to walk through the Vatican, and was entertained by the President of France--the Czar of the Russias--the King of Norway and Sweden, and other nobility of the old world. President Cleveland stroked his glossy coat, and he received the most grateful attention among all the courts visited in this and in other countries.

This Collie was never on public exhibition, but was the traveling companion of his owner. He could select any card called for in the deck--if not there, would say so by giving a whine--could distinguish colors as well as any human being; and could count money and make change with the rapidity and accuracy of an expert bank accountant. If told to make change of $31.31, or any other amounts from coins of various denominations, he could do so rapidly and without mistake. This intelligent dog lived out his allotted brief existence, dying at the age of fourteen years; but was better known than thousands of men who have lived much longer, thinking themselves quite eminent.

If dogs are not valuable property why are they exchanged at high rates in dollars and cents? Why did Mr. E. R. Sears, of Melrose, Mass., part with his twelve thousand five hundred dollars in “greenbacks” for the dog Bedivere? It may be _said_ the one who purchased a dog at that price was “_green_”--if said, it would be a mistake, for _Green_ was the gentleman who sold him.

The greater part of the early population of Ohio associated with dogs much of their time, and with good results. But the law-makers of the state, or a majority, had a penchant for self-elevation by legislating against those they feared as rivals--“dogs and niggers.” Consequently, “Black laws” and dog laws engrossed the time and talents of law-makers, who felt measurably unsafe unless the former were excluded as property and the latter deprived of citizenship.

The sensitive, if not infallible, Supreme Court has recently given the property rights and protection of the dog a bad set-back in the decision that “dogs are not property,” and outside of property it would seem there can be no ownership. But as decisions of the learned court are not required to be accepted in silence by the canine species, _this one_ affecting their rights is enough to make every dog of high and low degree, from Maine to California, rise up with a prodigious howl of contempt.

The logic by which the high court was enabled to enunciate its decision is quite as remarkable as the decision itself. It would seem the learned court divided the animal creation into two parts--“useful and useless,” and subdivided these into “wild and domestic beasts;” and then states: “Dogs belong to the non-useful, wild animal division.” _Ergo_: “Wild animals, as dogs which have been domesticated, are therefore property _only while in actual custody_”--which means in arms, cages, or confinement. An able critic, and a very well-informed lawyer, says: “Any respectable court would laugh at the proposition that it is not theft to appropriate a diamond which has escaped from the owner’s custody.” But that is another kind of cow--_the poor have dogs_, not _diamonds_. Still the learned man is to be admired who said:

“I like dogs because I know so many men and women.

“I like dogs because they always see my virtues and ignore my vices.

“I like dogs because they are friends through good report and evil report--through poverty and through riches.

“I like dogs because they are faithful and generous.

“I like dogs because they are full of simplicity and find pleasure in very little things.”

The population of the early settlements of Ohio bought and sold dogs, and considered them as much property as horses, cattle, or other personalty. They were not purchased by the pound; neither were hogs nor cattle. Among traders of the rural districts, every thing weighing over five hundred pounds was bought and sold upon appearance and opinion, by the piece.

Where the price caused a disagreement between buyer and seller, some mutual friend, who had obtained a good reputation as guesser, would be called as an arbiter. Fattened cattle to go east, purchased by “drovers,” were never weighed, but were taken, like horses, at a given sum per head. Fattened hogs, however, were generally weighed, by request of the purchaser. Each hog would be suspended, and weight determined by the “steelyard,” and then branded with a redhot iron on the left ham. This done, the squealing prisoner would surrender his place and attentions of the audience to the next, and so on, until the whole drove became duly registered. But farmers trading among themselves, buying and selling stock, depended entirely upon their sight and judgment as to the valuation.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Native fruit: cranberries, huckleberries, blackberries, raspberries, service berries, paw-paws (custard apples), persimmons, plums, grapes, cherries, haws, crab apples.

[2] Mr. Havemeyer is the autocrat of the Sugar Trust of America after the fashion of Mr. Arbuckle, the Coffee Baron. Under the chairmanship of a committee the New York legislature, Senator Luxow investigated the Sugar Trust and found Mr. Havemeyer controlled four-fifths of the entire output of sugar in America.

[3] Mills erected on two boats, separated at an angle, with water wheel near the bow. The natural current of the stream passing between the boats turned the wheel that moved the machinery of the mill, which would grind twenty to forty bushels of corn in twenty-four hours, according to the current of the stream.

[4] Prof. Drummond.

[5] Buffon.