HISTORY OF FAIRFIELD COUNTY
CHAPTER IX.
REMINISCENCES OF EARLY TIMES.
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It was proposed that the matter be conclusively settled then and there, and the stranger gladly acceded, only stipulating that fair play be given him. He was furnished with "seconds" from the throng, who were as much bound to see him fairly treated as though he had always their confidence and their friendship. A ring was formed, the traveler and the man selected to fight him stepped in, stripped, and the bout commenced. No interference was permitted, and, after a stubborn trial, in which both men were well pummeled, the traveler acknowl- edged his defeat. He was consoled with the assurance that his courage and prowess were highly esteemed, and again invited to remain with this people, whose generosity and bravery he had so satisfactorily tested. He concluded to stay, remarking that, while he knew little of either valley, there were as good men in the Hocking as he cared to encounter. A roll of paper bearing the date of June 14, 1836, has been found, appended to which are the names of one hundred and sixteen persons, who were citizens of Fairfield county at the time. The document, which is headed " The Anarugens of Fairfield County," is a subscription list for defraying the expenses of a Fourth of July celebration held that year. Less than a dozen of those,whose names appear on the paper, are alive to-day. The following shows the purpose of the paper: "We, the undersigned, do each agree to pay the sums annexed to our names, for the purpose of defraying certain contingent expenses for the celebration of American Independence, on the Fourth of July, by the Anarugens of Fairfield County." The following is nearly, but not quite, the full list, a few names being illegible: David Iric, James Sherman, John McClelland, William R. Claspill, Samuel Matlock, J. C. Weaver, George Bentley, Jacob Hite, Micheal Bissinger, Jacob Young, Nathaniel Cook, Robert Fielding, John Stallsmith, Zachariah Clemens, Henry Cronmer, C. Lobinger, Henry Orman, William Embich, R.M. Ainsworth, G. H. Little, P. H. Cramer, George Leoder, E. Nigh, John Schaffer, J. E. Kinkead, William Hutchison, S. K. Hensell, J. Flemm, Work Galbriath, Michael Garaghty, C. W. Meeker, James Furguson, James Cross, Samuel Sturgeon, A. Crooks, James McMames, William Phelen, David Regg, Jesse B. Hart, William Wiley, Salem Shafer, Hugh Boyl, Robert Sturgeon, Silas Tam, Thomas Edingfield, Jacob Schaffer, William Amsbach, Thomas Pinkerton, Robert Short, Joseph Work, Louis Levering, W. C. Embich, P. M. Kosser, W. T. Sherman, S. B. Butterfield, William Daugherty, William Richards, H. Cook, William Medill, John Baldwin, Henry Myers, P. Van Trump, M. E. Kreider, John G. Willock, Robert Dunkin, Isaac Comer, Levi Anderson, Adam Guesman, L. Baker, A. Hunter, John Ramsey, D. B. Light, C. J. Arnett, J. N. Little, Stephen Smith, Daniel Riffle, J. C. Allen, Kimball Hall, Samuel S. Nigh, George W. Claspill, Joel Smith, John Van Pearse, Joseph Lilley, Thomas Hardy, George Reber, P. Beacher, Jr., Christian Rudolph, Henry Kestler, John H. Tennant, Henry T. Myers, John B. Reed, Samuel Michaels. Theodore Gunther, John M. Bigelow, B. Morgan, Samuel Hart, Geo. Creed, Louis Thompson, Ewel Jefries, Gabriel Carpenter, Jacob Embich, Sosthenus McCabe, John W. Miers, Charles Beck and William King. There were two parties of the celebrators, the "Anarugens,"46
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but many citizens had reason to lament their skill and cunning, and some of the band mingled with honest men, seemingly engaged in ordinary occupations. Mr. Thomas Ewing, the prosecuting attorney of this county at the time, was a man of magnificent physique and great courage. The capture of the band had often been tried, and always unsuccessfully, and Mr. Ewing asked to be sworn in as a special constable, which was done. By a careful espionage he ascertained, that eight or ten of the thieves habitually and regularly met at a house in "Sleepy Hollow," and he decided that it was possible to capture them, though several were known to be desperate characters, particularly the leader, who was also a powerful and courageous man. Having defined his plan, he selected the following men, with especial reference to their strength and bravery; Nathaniel Red, Christian Neibling, Adam Weaver, Christian King, David Reese, Elnathan Schofield, and two or three others. This little posse started for the den of the outlaws, sometime after dark on an evening, which was known to be appointed for one of their conclaves. Arrived in the vicinity, they halted under cover of a dense thicket and secured their horses. They quietly surrounded the house and then broke down the door. The thieves were holding their conference in the second story, and, being surprised, were soon in bonds, with the single exception of Mr. Schofield's man, who was about to prove more than a match for him. Seeing this, Mr. Ewing, who had selected and overpowered the leader of the gang, jumped to the assistance of Schofield, when the leader rose to his feet and threw himself backwards from the window, bound as he was, and actually succeeded in getting away. It is supposed that the women in the lower part of the house aided him in his escape. The remainder of the band were sent to the Penitentiary, after due trial. Considerable discussion has arisen in the effort to settle the identity of the first white male child, born in Fairfield county. The friends of the late Hocking H. Hunter have claimed that honor for him; but Mr. Hunter himself once acknowledged his belief, that Captain Levi Stewart, who is living at this writing, was thirteen months older---this, after comparing notes personally with Mr. Stewart. 'Howe's History of Ohio confers the honor upon a son of Mrs. Ruhama Green, and it has been said that a fourth claimant comes from Clear Creek; but Mr. Stewart has a preponderance of evidence in his favor. The Mrs. Ruhama Green, just mentioned, was born and raised in Jefferson county, Virginia. In 1785 she married Charles Builderback, and with him crossed the mountains and settled at the mouth of Short Creek, on the east bank of the Ohio, a few miles above Wheeling. Her husband, a brave man, had distinguished himself as an Indian fighter, and the red men determined at once to rid the frontier of his unwelcome presence, and to secure a certain measure of vengeance. One beautiful morning, in the month of June, 1789, Captain Charles Builderback, with his wife and brother, Jacob Builderback, crossed the Ohio River to look for some cattle. As soon as the trio reached the shore, a party of fifteen or twenty Indians rushed from cover and fired upon them. They were thoroughly off their guard, as no Indians had been seen for a time sufficiently long to raise the belief that they had abandoned the western shore of the Ohio. Jacob was wounded in the49
shoulder, and Captain Builderback taken prisoner. As soon as the savages had secured the Captain, they ordered him, on pain of instant death, to call his wife, who had hid in some driftwood, at the first attack. "Here," to use her own words, "a struggle took place in my breast, which I cannot describe. Shall I go to him and become a prisoner, or shall I remain, return to our cabin and take care of our children?" He called for her a second time, telling her that her compliance with the demand of his captors might save his life. She hesitated no longer, but appeared and gave herself up. All this took place on the bank of the river, in plain sight of their cabin, where they had left their two children, a boy three years old, and an infant daughter. The Indians were not long, however, in leaving the spot, knowing that pursuit was sure, as soon as the news of the raid should reach the stockade at Wheeling. Mr. and Mrs. Builderback traveled together that day and the following night. The next morning the Indians separated into two parties, and continued to journey westward by different routes. Mrs. Builderback never saw her husband again, captain Charles Builderback had commanded a company at Crawford's defeat in the Sandusky country, and was both feared and hated by the savages. He was in the bloody Moravian Campaign, and shed the first blood by tomahawking and scalping the Moravian chief, Shebosh. When, therefore, he replied, "Charles Builderback," on being asked his name, it is no wonder that the keen eyes of these vindictive children of nature flashed with malice, and it is but fair to presume, from what is know of the Indian character, that his fate was sealed from that moment. In a few days from the time the fortunes of these brave pioneers met with such a terrible reverse, the party, having Mrs. Builderback in charge, camped on the Tuscarawas River, and were soon joined by the others; but the, brave pale-face was not there. The anxious and suffering wife was told that he had been killed, and to convince her of the horrible fact, a scalp was thrown into her lap, which she was able to identify with absolute certainty as being that of her husband. She made no complaint, uttered no moan, and soon, overcome by excitement and fatigue, fell into a sound sleep, sitting on the ground with her back against a tree. When she awoke the scalp was gone and she never saw it again. As soon as the news reached Wheeling, a party of scouts set off on the trail of one of the bands, and finally came to the body of Charles Builderback. He had been tomahawked and scalped, and apparently suffered a lingering death. Mrs. Builderback was taken to the Indian town on the Little Miami, and remained in captivity about nine months, doing the drudgery of the squaws, but otherwise being subject to no ill treatment. At the end of that time she was ransomed and brought to Fort Washington, and soon after sent up the river to her lonely cabin and the embrace of her children, who had been provided for by the neighbors. Several years afterward she married John Green, and together they came to Ohio, and settled three miles west of the present city of Lancaster, where she resided until her death, which occurred in 1842. Mr. Green died ten years previously. David Ewing narrowly escaped torture, if not death, at the hands of the Indians, while hunting in the woods three or four miles north of Lancaster, about the year 1806. He saw through the bushes what he50
supposed was a bear, at the opposite side of a small pond. He fired, and a squaw-jumped up and fled, screaming from fright and the pain, caused by a wound in her arm. Ewing was well aware that a plea of "accidental shooting" would not "go" with an Indian, and therefore fled for his life, knowing that the squaw was certainly within hearing distance of her people. In his flight he passed the cabin of Daniel Arnold, but did not stop. The Indians pressed him close, but supposing he had taken refuge at Arnold's, they broke in and would have murdered Mrs. Arnold, who was alone with her children, but for the interposition of the chief. Mrs. Elizabeth Sheric, of Lancaster, a daughter of Arnold, well remembers the visit of the Indians to her father's cabin that morning, and the terror occasioned thereby. Ewing kept away from home until the damaged arm of the squaw, and the mutilated honor of the Indian, had been repaired by money and "presents." He then returned in safety. In 1812 or 1813 the whole community for several miles around Lancaster was thrown into a frenzy of excitement and terror by the rumor that a large force of hostile Indians was marching upon the settlement. Active measures, offensive and defensive, were speedily commenced. Some of the best buildings in the settlement were converted into block houses, and to them the people fled for safety. Among the houses so used was that of Judge Burton, in Pleasant township, that of Nathaniel Wilson, in Hocking township, and one in Berne township, where James Driver now lives. Valuables were hid in the woods and fields, and all sorts of tools were collected, which could by any possibility be converted into weapons. At night the doors of the houses were securely barred, and persons, coming to a fort in the night, had to make themselves fully known, to secure admission. The men ran bullets, brightened their firelocks and repaired to the Court House, at Lancaster, the recognized meeting-place, when anything affecting the welfare of the community was to be discussed. Mounted scouts were detailed to find out all that was possible concerning the enemy, and especially the direction, from which they might be expected, while the remainder of the force of armed men prepared to march and give battle. Before the line of march was taken up, however, the preparations for war came to a sudden and definite conclusion. A party of young men had been engaged in a hunt and had met with the poorest possible success, being unable to satisfy their own cravings for food, much less to obtain a quantity, with which to fill their gaping game bags. Spurred by appetites, furnished by vigorous exercise and superabundent vitality, they had so far forgotten even backwood's courtesy, as to enter a cabin in the absence of the owners, and appropriate all that was eatable about the place. Not being satisfied with this, and, perhaps, filled with chagrin at the ill-success of their hunt, they fired off their guns and gave utterance to several excellent imitations of the much dreaded war-whoop of the Indian. This was the sole foundation for all the annoyance and alarm , to which the settlers had been subjected. Many ludicrous stories are told of the sayings and doings of the more timid, during the scare, which, it is better, should not be repeated, as some of the actors in the above farce, and many of their decendants are still living. Old Father Grabill was the best fox-hunter of his time, and was51
most enthusiastic, when in pursuit of the game. Nothing but an inter- vention of Providence could stop him or divert his attention when in the heat of the chase. On one occasion, Reynard, who had made terrible exertions to escape, and used all his wiles to throw the hunter and dogs off the trail, but unsuccessfully, dashed into the open church door, which presented the first opportunity for refuge, as he emerged from a thicket. The congregation were engrossed in the service, but the excited hounds were close upon the game. and had no notion of abandoning it, or regard for the proprieties of the occasion. They followed their prey into the meeting house, baying lustily, and creating the wildest confusion among the worshippers, to all of which they paid no heed, but dragged the fox out and killed it, just as their scarcely less excited master entered the door---not to worship, but to "be in at the death." The game secured, the old man shouldered his gun and marched off, proudly conscious of having done his whole duty as he conceived it, and leaving the congregation to get over their excitement and think what they pleased. In the spring of 1798, several men came from Virginia to make a start in the wilderness, intending to bring their families as soon as they should have provided a foothold upon which to stand, while grappling with the giants of the forest. They selected the east side of Baldwin's Run, within a few feet of the bridge, where the Salem pike crosses the stream. Within a few days William Green, one of their number, sickened and died, with only his companions in hardship to minister to his bodily and spiritual needs. He was buried in a hickory bark coffin, on the west side of the Run, and on the north side of the road. Colonel Robert Wilson, who had with a few others, settled in the Hocking a month previously, assisted in consigning the body of the unfortunate stranger, to its lonely grave. This spot was long remembered by the citizens of Fairfield, as the grave of the first white man ever buried in the county. For sixteen years after the organization of the village of Lancaster, there was no bank in the place, and the necessity for such a conven- ience was little felt. A small amount of money was in circulation, and this was rapidly changing hands. When a man came into the possession of an amount of coin, for which he had no immediate use, its protection from theft gave him little concern, and it was laid away in cupboard or till of chest, often without even an ordinary lock to secure it. The merchant crossed the mountains to purchase goods with the cash results of his year's trade, in a pair of ordinary saddle-bags. Almost his only precaution was to deliver the bags to the landlord, who furnished him lodging, for safe keeping while he slept. The hog drover purchased his stock on credit, and came back from eastern markets with saddle-bags loaded with silver, which belonged both to his creditors and himself. The creditors thus ran a double risk---that of having a dishonest debtor, and also of losing their money by robbers; but both chances were cheerfully and confidently taken. The only enemies dreaded at night were the Indians, and at the time mentioned they had about ceased to cause alarm. The only burglars, then in existence in this country, were content when their hunger was appeased. During the war of 1812, the money to pay the soldiers was brought from52
Cincinnati, on horseback in saddle-bags. Mr. John Creed, who was after- wards President of the old Lancaster, Ohio, Bank, once brought $10,000 from Cincinnati in this way, to pay off returned soldiers. A religious revival occurred in the M. E. Church, Lancaster, in the winter of 1841-2, which is without parallel in the history of the county. Rev. Wm. R. Anderson held the pastorate at the time, but he was not regarded as a powerful preacher, or a man of extraordinary ability. The meetings were held in the basement of the church, the auditorium not being completed, and lasted from December until March---in all, something over three months. The house was unable to contain those, who wished to attend, after the first two or three weeks, and many were turned away nightly, after all available seating and standing room had been utilized. The altar was crowded nightly with mourners, and when the meetings closed there were over two hundred accessions to the M. E. Church. Other denominations came in for a large share. The spontaneity of this season of religious fervor is not its least wonderful feature, for, as before stated, the pastor was not a man of marked ability in the clerical profession. The services often continued until midnight, and religious exercises were sometimes held after the attendants of the meetings had arrived at their homes. Many of the best citizens of the place were among the converts, and the attendance of members of other denominations throughout the meetings was unusually large. One young lady, while in the church, passed into a sort of trance, in which she remained for seven days. Her animation seemed suspended, and indeed, life would have been pronounced extinct but for the animal heat, which was perceptible. When she recovered, she declared she had been in heaven, named those whom she had met, and said that her earthly existence was a blank from the time she arrived at the church until her recovery. Hundreds of people visited her, including a number of medical men, and all were, completely mystified by the condition in which they found her. It is much to be regretted that Fairfield county never had a pioneer society, for no county in the State is richer in pioneer reminiscences. The first settlers of the county brought with them from the older States the superstitions and prejudices, and the ignorance of their day, as well as a native virtue and integrity. At the beginning of the present century, the belief in ghosts, witchcraft, and supernatural signs and omens was almost universal. A matter-of-fact philosophy might often dispel the ghosts in day time, but even those most skeptical of the supernatural, and possessing the least physical fear, were not averse to company, if called to pass a graveyard at night. But the antagonism of science to these ancient chimeras has resulted in permanently crippling them, and their utter extirpation is a matter of but a few more years, at the present rate of mental progress. The incidents of the following "ghost story," though true, did not occur in Fairfield county, but they illustrate the point in question most admirably. For two years the neighborhood had been annoyed and terrified at frequent intervals by the appearance of a "ghost," and no matter-of-fact solution of the mystery seemed quite to satisfy those who "had seen the ghost," no odds what might be the scoffer's claims on the public respect, intelligent men jeered at the idea, which they said was a relic of barbarism; but they were treated53
to a sight of the "ghost" in due time, and had nothing more to say. The "ghost" appeared in various localities, within a radius of two or three miles, and all who saw it agreed that it took the form of a human being, was clad in pure white, and had the field to itself---the last fact being incontrovertibly established. Its favorite places for materialization were a deserted cabin by the roadside, and the village graveyard. At last the mystery was made clear. Half a dozen young people, returning from a quilting and husking "bee," were passing the cabin just mentioned, when, by the merest chance, they saw three boys leave the back door, and run in the direction of the graveyard, one having under his arm a white roll. The purpose of the boys was immediately divined, and the quick-witted young people concluded to try "fighting fire with fire." They hurried along, and arrived at the graveyard first. The tallest young man in the party removed his coat and vest, and lay down near a grave, where he would not be easily discovered, while the rest concealed themselves near by and awaited developments. The mischief-loving trio soon arrived, and, supposing the corn-huskers still traveling towards the cemetery, unrolled the snowy sheet, with which they had created so much sport for themselves, and prepared for the scare. Suddenly, the tall young man arose, his white linen presenting quite a ghostly appearance, and thus harangued the youngsters: "Vain mortals, why do you come at this silent hour to disturb the peaceful slumbers of the grave ? Go back to your beds and pray; for you, too, will soon lie with us!" The apparition dropped from sight with a horrible groan, and the boys fled in genuine terror. It is certain that the "ghost " never again visited the neighborhood. Many of the ills, to which flesh is heir, now laid to common causes, once caused accusation to fall on the heads of harmless old crones, and gained them enemies in every household. Witchcraft was a real, and not a fancied evil, for it ostracized from the society of the day any person, howe'er guileless, at whose door it might fall. No denial, or reminder of an exemplary past life, had any effect---for if no more serious results followed, the suspected one must henceforth live and die almost wholly without the pale of neighborly attention and mutual dependence. If a hog had the disease now known as kidney worm, and as such easily cured, it was bewitched. Hollow horn in cattle, chicken cholera, poll evil in horses, and a host of commoner maladies, were pronounced the work of the witches, and generally laid at the door of some harmless and unprotected old woman, to whom the person afflicted fancied he had given offense---or his conscience, perhaps, really troubled him. But some of the deeds, charged to the witches, were really singular in themselves. Horses would be found in their stables in the morning, bearing every sign of having been violently exercised; panting, sweating, and exhausted, and having spur marks in the flanks, and bleeding mouths, as from a violent reining up. Nor was this all. Even the human species, after passing a night of unrest, and broken by troubled dreams, would arise unrefreshed---nay, more; stiff and sore, as from violent physical exercise. The theory on which this last really singular circumstance was accounted for, was that the witches had turned the subject of their wrath into a horse, and ridden him all night! Many persons of fair intelligence, really deemed themselves thus persecuted.54
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with a background of a square foot of wall paper, was an especial luxury, and might have been carried hundreds of miles, across the mountains, carefully shielded from harm. The old sale-bill phrase, "and many other articles too numerous to mention," never had its origin in an effort to enumerate the household utensils of a primitive pioneer home in the days when Fairfield county was first trodden by the foot of the white man. Every piece on the list of the pioneer woman's house-keeping utensils was in daily requisition, and sometimes one piece had to do several varieties of duty. The indispensables, (and few had more,) were: a skillet, round pot, one or two frying pans, and sometimes a ten or twelve gallon iron kettle---all brought over the mountains with infinite labor. These were afterwards supplemented by a wooden bucket, a few pieces of tinware, half a dozen bone-handled knives and forks, the same number of pewter spoons, and, lastly, the inevitable gourd. This was the full complement of the pioneer housewife's outfit. Access to the loft was gained by means of a rude ladder. Beds for children were usually provided in the loft; but for the grown people the single room on the "first floor" served as kitchen, dining and drawing-room, and bed-chamber. Any one who might choose to call at sun down was invited to pass the night, albeit the guest was obliged to content himself, in the event of an acceptance, with an utter absence of any thing like ceremony. But the hearty hospitality, so impartially bestowed,was calculated to allay the scruples of those, who had been unused to such fare, though this mode of living was rarely a novelty to such as had occasion to "visit" the home of "the hardy pioneer." There are few women in the country to-day, who could reproduce the corn pone, johnnycake, dodger and ash cake of those days; but, as these condiments were then prepared, they were both palatable and digestible, though by no means dainty. Even the wedding trosseau of the pioneer's daughter was made up from the raw materials under the parental roof, including "the" dress of linen or flannel. Carding, spinning and weaving the wool, and pulling, watering and scutching the flax, was then as much a part of the rural housewife's duty, as churning, baking or mending. Besides this multiplicity of duties, the women of the house often helped in performing the hardest work about the premises, such as felling trees and planting crops. They were even obliged to handle the rifle in the protection of the home, during the days of Indian hostility. The pioneer schools were kept in log pens, yclept school-houses, although, as the word is now understood, it were a decided misnomer to so dignify them. The oiled paper windows let in all the daylight to be had when the door was closed, here, as in dwellings. But one term was held in a year, and that only about three months in length. The session usually began in November, but occasionally not until Christmas. A custom prevailed of locking the teachers out by barring the door on the inside, on Christmas or New Year's. At such times, the larger pupils of the school banded together, and it was rare that they were circumvented by their teacher, who, to secure peaceable possession, had to agree to furnish a homely "treat "of apples and56
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section of a log, three feet long, or rather high, for it was stood on end, and a conical hole burned into it. This hole or mortar would contain two or three gallons. A pestle was made by fastening an iron wedge in the end of a stout stick or pole. The corn was pounded until the hull came off and the germ was somewhat broken. The finer part was for bread and the coarser was boiled---the latter dish being named "pounded hominy." Salt was brought from the Scioto and Muskingum Rivers at first, and a bushel (fifty pounds) cost five dollars. As late as 1815, it required twenty-five bushels of wheat to pay for one barrel of salt--this, too, when flour was worth sixteen dollars per barrel. Coffee was at one time a dollar and a half, and spices and pepper, one dollar per pound. Sometimes wheat was not saleable at any price, though the seller might be willing to take trade for all he had. A farmer, who had a surplus of wheat, went to Lancaster with a load, and could not dispose of it, even for trade, at a shilling per bushel. He was about to return home, greatly discouraged, when he was told that he could obtain a shilling per bushel in cash if he would pour his load into a certain hole in the middle of Main street, so that gentlemen could pass over dry shod. A man had the last payment on his land made up all but three dollars, which none of his neighbors could lend him. The money would be due in twenty-four hours, and all he had paid would be forfeited if he did not make up the full sum. That night his only cow died, and he hastily removed the hide and rode all night, arriving at Chillicothe in time to sell it for enough to make the payment in full. A gentleman, who came to Lancaster, in 1807, subsequently bought some land in Liberty township, near the present village of Basil. He lived in harmony with his neighbors for some time, but, suddenly, they began to let him severely alone, and for a long time the cause of the coldness remained unexplained. Finally the truth came out. The Lancaster merchant had imported some window glass, and Mr. Heyl availed himself of the opportunity to dispense with the oiled paper windows he had been using. The two eight by ten glass windows caused his neighbors to say, that "the Heyl's had stuck themselves up with glass windows, when they were no better than other people." Verily, prejudice and old fogyism are not distinctive features of advanced civilization. A party of young people were promenading on the summit of Mount Pleasant many years ago, when one couple, who were very devoted; each to the other, became separated from the main party, The young lady, in leaning over the cliff after a flower, lost her balance and fell, but lodged in the top of a pine tree. Her companion leaped after her, excitement preventing him from seeing any other way of rescuing her, and fortunately lit on the same friendly tree. But they were in a ludicrous position, and unable to rescue themselves, though safe from immediate danger. Their companions came to their relief, and both escaped unharmed. They were married soon after, and have since enjoyed a large degree of public confidence and private friendship. They are now grand-parents, and possess the satisfactory consciousness of having lived useful and honorable lives.58
The Methodists were the pioneers in the religious history of the county. Their first class was formed at Beal's Hill, in the fall of 1799, but they were quickly followed by other denominations. Religious services were held in cabins and school houses till "meeting houses" (for they had no use for "'churches") could be built. In the summer they walked to "meeting" barefoot, for shoes were hard to obtain. Lads and lassies, who sustained the delightful relation of lovers, would pair off into the bushes just before they arrived at the house of worship and, seated on the same log, put on the shoes and stockings, which had been carried in the hand. Then, when church was out, the foot coverings were removed and the church goers plodded home as they had come. On one occasion the preacher, a magnificent specimen of physical manhood, was delivering his discourse in his bare feet, one of which was placed on the split-bottomed chair, belonging to the pulpit---the only chair in the house. He became very earnest, and, finally, an emphatic stamp of his foot sent it through the bottom of the chair. The removal of the limb was not so easy and several of the pillars of the church came to his rescue, amid the subdued tittering of the giddy young people. The release being accomplished, the preacher cast the chair violently behind him with the muttered command: "Get thee behind me, Satan." Men went to meeting in hunting shirts and buckskin breeches, sometimes with their rifles on their shoulders, to guard against an attack by Indians; but they were sincere, honest, and consistent in their profession. For humanity, good will, honesty and dauntless energy in temporal and spiritual matters, they are well worthy our example. The primitive Methodist camp-meeting deserves notice. The first camp-meeting ever held in the county was about two miles north of the present West Rushville, on what has since been known as the Stevenson lands. The meetings were held here for many years, and though the ground has since been farmed, it is still sometimes called the ''camp-ground." The preachers stand was built between two trees, and the preachers' tent was in the rear. Long rows of slab benches faced the stand, and were backed and flanked with wooden tents. Back of the wooden tents were the canvas tents, and still farther to the rear were the canvas-covered wagons. Earth-covered stands were placed in different parts of the grounds, and large fires built thereon, giving both light and heat. Religious exercises were held almost hourly, and great unction was manifested in all the means of grace. The preaching was plain, forcible, and fearless---the clergy being, for the most part, practical, hard-headed men, and some preached solely for the love of doing good, receiving no remuneration for their spiritual labors, and working with their hands, like their hearers, to satisfy their physical needs. Good fellowship and consistent Christianity were leading traits of the pioneer Methodist, and all that they did was with their whole might. The camp-ground assemblage was called together by a blast of the horn. Everybody, who came, was heartily welcomed to all the hospitalities of the occasion, both temporal and spiritual. The meetings were productive of much good, and aided these struggles in "patiently bearing the yoke, like good soldiers.' The only unpleasant memory, which clusters around the old-fashioned59
camp-meetings, is that of the rowdy element, which sometimes intruded. No public gathering broke up without more or less horse- swapping. Very little money changed hands, and the chances for more or less rough-and-tumble fighting were excellent. The "bump" of combativeness was frequently aroused by the copper-distilled whiskey of the time, the sale of which caused numerous taverns to spring up all along the public roads. The pioneer's copper-distilled whiskey is claimed to have been pure, but it nevertheless influenced men in doing some very singular things. A party of men were coming from a drinking bout at Rushville, in the early days, and each was trying to out-do the rest in some odd pranks. At last the leader jumped from his horse and crawled through a muddy culvert, which ran under the road. There was barely room for his body, and he came out well plastered with mud. and soaked with muddy water. His example was followed by the half-dozen other members of the gang, and they then separated for their homes, proudly conscious of being on a mutual footing in the performance of deeds of valor. The "Tent" is a historic spot in Fairfield county. Its locality is south of the Lancaster and Rushville turnpike, about two miles west of Rushville. The circumstances which gave rise to the "Tent" are substantially, as follows: In 1803 some missionaries came from Kentucky, and began preaching for a few of their denomination (Associate Reformed Presbyterians ), who lived in the neighborhood. There being no meeting house, a tent was erected, and here the people worshipped for some time. A church has since been built, and it is now called the United Presbyterian Church. The old settlers still call this place of worship the "Tent." The "first" mills, churches, school-houses, still-houses, and other land-marks, are extinct, and only the pen of the historian can preserve them from oblivion, with the lessons taught by them and by their founders, the "early pioneer."60