INDIANA TRAILS
MADISON COUNTY
HISTORICAL AND DESCRIPTIVE
Madison County
was first settled in
1820, or
during the year preceding. In 1820, the county contained, probably, one
hundred
settlers, who were located, for the most part, near falls of Fall
creek. Among this number may be mentioned names of Elias Hollingsworth,
Samuel
Holliday, Thomas William
McCartney, Thomas Scott, Israel Cocks, and
Saul Shaul,
Adam Dobson, Parmer Patrick, and William and Thomas Silver followed
soon after.
“From this infant settlement,” says Mr. Harding, “we have grown to a
population
of 25,000”
The county, as a rule, might be called level; there are,
however, on
White River and Fall Creek, hills of considerable size. There is
comparatively
little waste land in the county.
The prairie, between Pendelton and Anderson, for many years considered
as waste
land, is gradually being subdued, and will soon become the garden spot
of the
county, instead of being home of miasma and noxious weeds.
Improvements
in this land, by a system of ditching, are rapidly going forward. The
county is
well watered by numerous creeks, which have served a valuable day for
mill
owners, and which drain the soil admirably.
Madison
county
was organized in 1823. At that time the county seat was located at
Pendleton,
where it remained until 1836, when it was permanently located at Anderson. The
population
of the county in 1830 was 2,238; in 1840, it was 8,874; in 1850, it was
12,375;
in 1860, it was 16,518; in 1870, it was 22,770; and, in 1875, is
estimated in
round numbers at 25,000, with a voting population of 5,272. The number
of acres
of improved land in 1870 was 133,190. The number of acres of woodland
was
87,521. A survey of the county at this time would show an extension of
the
former, not a little flattering to the husbandman. The cash value of
farms in
1870 was $9,399,441; the value of farm implements and machinery,
$242,571;
value of orchard products, $70,262. The compilers of this work have
ascertained that the increase in these
items
during the last five years has been over sixty per cent. per annum.
There is
nothing remarkable in the early history of the county, except the
Indian
murders of 1824, of which we have the following account in Mr. 0.H
Smith's
EARLY
REMINISCENCES OF INDIANA
At the time of the Indian murders on Fall Creek, the
country was new and the
population scattered here and there in the woods. The game was plenty,
and the
Indian hunting grounds had not been forsaken by several of the tribes.
The
white settlers felt some alarm at the news of an Indian encampment, in
the
neighborhood, and although they were all friendly, a watchful eye was
kept on
all their movements. The county
of Madison had
been
organized but a short time before. Pendleton, with a few houses at the
falls,
was the seat of the new county. "Anderson,
on White River was a small village. Chesterfield and
Huntsfield were not then heard of. There were only a few houses between
Indianapolis
and the
falls, and still fewer in other directions from the capital. Early in
the
spring of 1824, a hunting party of Seneca Indians, consisting of two
men, three
squaws, and four children, encamped on the east side of Fall Creek,
about eight
miles above the falls. The country around their camping ground was a
dense,
unbroken forest, filled with game. The principal Indian was called Ludlow, and
was said to
be named for Stephen Ludlow, of Lawrenceburg. The other man I call
Mingo. The
Indians commenced their seasons hunting and trapping the men with
their guns,
and the squaws setting the traps, preparing and cooking the game, and
caring
for the children, two boys, some ten years old, and two girls of more
tender
years. A week had rolled around, and the success of the Indians had
been very
fair, with better prospects ahead, as the spring was opening, and
raccoons were
beginning to leave their holes in the trees in search for frogs that
had begun
to leave their muddy beds at the bottom of the creeks. The trapping
season was
just only commencing. Ludlow and his band, wholly unsuspicious of harm,
and
unconscious of any approaching enemies, were seated around their camp
fire,
when there approached through the woods five white men, Harper, Sawyer,
Hudson,
Bridge Sr. and Bridge Jr. Harper was the leader, and stepping up to
Ludlow,
took him by the hand and told his party had lost their horses, and
wanted
Ludlow and Mingo to help find them. The Indians agreed to go in search
of the
horses. Ludlow
took one path and Mingo another. Harper followed Ludlow Hudson trailed
Mingo,
keeping some fifty yards behind. They traveled some short distance
from the
camp, when Harper shot Ludlow
through the body. He fell dead on his face. Hudson, on hearing the
crack of the
rifle of Harper, immediately shot Mingo, the ball entering just below
his
shoulders, and passing clear through his body. Mingo fell dead. The
party then
met and proceeded to within gunshot of the camp. Sawyer shot one of the
squaws
through the head. She fell and died without a struggle. Bridge, Sr.,
shot
another squaw, and Bridge, Jr., the other squaw. Both fell dead. Sawyer
then
fired at the oldest boy, but only wounded him. The other children were
shot by
some of the party. Harper then led on to the camp.
The three
squaws, one boy, and the two little girls
lay dead, but the oldest
boy was still living. Sawyer took him by the legs, and knocked his
brains out
against the end of a log. The camp was then robbed of everything worth
carrying
away. Harper, the ring leader, left immediately for Ohio, and was
never taken. Hudson,
Sawyer, Bridge, Sr., and Bridge, Jr.,
were arrested, and when I first saw them they were confined in a square
log
jail, fitting tight above, below, and on the sides. I entered with the
sheriff.
The prisoners were all heavily ironed and sitting on the straw on the
floor. Hudson
was a man of about
middle size, with a bad look, dark eye and bushy hair, about
thirty five years
of age in appearance. Sawyer was about the same age, rather heavier
than Hudson,
but there was
nothing in his appearance that could have marked him in a crowd, as any
other
than a common farmer. Bridge, Sr., was much older than Sawyer; his head
was
quite gray, he was above the common height, slender, and a little bent
while
standing. Bridge, Jr., was some eighteen years of age, a tall
stripling.
Bridge, Sr., was the father of Bridge, Jr., and the brother-in-law of
Sawyer.
The news of
these Indian murders flew upon the wings
of the wind. The settlers
became greatly alarmed, fearing the retaliatory vengeance of the
tribes, and
especially of the other bands of the Senecas. The facts reached Mr.
John
Johnston, at the Indian agency at Piqua.
Ohio.
An
account of the murders was sent from the agency to the war department
at Washington
City. Colonel
Johnston and William
Conner visited all the Indian tribes, and assured them that the
government would
punish the offenders, and obtaining the promises of the chiefs and
warriors
that they would wait and see what their “ Great Father” would do before
they
took the matter into their own hands. This quieted the fears of the
settlers,
and preparation was commenced for the trials. A new log building was
erected at
‘the north part of Pendleton, with two rooms, one for the Court and the
other
for the grand jury. The court room was about twenty by thirty feet,
with a
heavy “puncheon” floor, a platform at one end, three feet high, with a
strong
railing in front, a bench for the judges, a plain table for the clerk,
in front
a long bench for the counsel, a little pen for the prisoners, a side
bench for
the witnesses, and a long pole in front, substantially supported, to
separate
the crowd from the court and bar. A guard by day and night was placed
around
the jail. The court posed of Wm. W. Wick, presiding judge; Samuel
Holiday and
Adam Winchell, associates. Judge Wick was young on the bench, but with
much
experience in criminal trials. Judge Holiday was one of and most
conscientious
men I ever knew. Judge Winchell blacksmith, and had ironed the
prisoners; he
was an honest, rough; iterate man, without any pretensions to legal
knowledge.
Moses Cox the clerk; he could barely write his name, and when a can
justice of
the peace at Connersville,
he boasted of his superior qualifications: “I have been sued on every
section
of the statute, and know the law, while my competitor has never been
sued, and
knows nothing about the statute.” Samuel Cory, the sheriff; was a fine
specimen
of a woods’ Hoosier, tall and strong boned, with hearty laugh, with man
or
beast, with a voice that made the woods ring as he called and
‘witnesses. The
county was thus prepared for the trials. In time the government was not
sleeping. Colonel Johnston, the Indian agent, was directed to attend
the trials
to see that the witnesses were present and to pay their fees. Gen.
James Noble,
then a United States Senator, was employed the secretary of war to
prosecute,
with power to fee an assistant. Philip Sweetzer, a young son-in-law of
the
general , of high promise in his profession, was selected by the
general as his
Calvin Fletcher was the regular prosecuting attorney, then a young man
of more
than ordinary ability, and a good criminal lawyer. The only Inn
at Pendleton was a new frame house near the creek, still standing by
the side
of the railroad bridge.
The term of
the court was about being held. The
Sunday term commenced the
lawyers began to arrive, and, as the custom was in those days, they
were
invited out to dine on the Sabbath by the most wealthy citizens, as a
favor and
compliment, not to the lawyers, but to their hosts. We had a statute in
those
days imposing a fine of one dollar on each person who should “profanely
curse,
swear, or damn,” and making it the duty of all judges and magistrates
to see
that the law was enforced upon offenders in their presence. Judge
Holiday
invited Calvin Fletcher, the circuit prosecuting attorney, and his Indianapolis
friend,
Daniel B. Wick the brother of the judge to dine with him. The
invitation was accepted,
of course, there being no previous engagement in the way. Dinner was
announced;
Judge Holliday asked a “blessing” at the table Mr. Fletcher declining.
The judge
had killed a fat goose for the extraordinary occasion, which was nicely
stuffed
with well seasoned bread and onions and placed in the center of the
table. Mr.
Wick, who was not a church member, fixed his eye upon the goose, and
said, by
way of compliment, “That is a
damned
fine goose, judge.” “Yes, it is a fine goose, and you are fined one
dollar for
swearing.” Not a word more was spoken at the table. Dinner over, Judge
Holiday
said, “Squire Wick, pay me the dollar.” I have not a cent with me,
judge.” “Perhaps
Mr. Fletcher will lend it to you Mr. Fletcher: “I really have only
enough
‘with me to pay my tavern bill.” Judge Holliday: “What is to be done!”
Fletcher: “Lend him the money, judge, and take his note, or bind him
over to court.” “Ill bind
him over; you'll go his security?” “The rules of the court forbid
lawyers from going
security for any one, but you can go it yourself; just draw the
recognizance
that ‘Daniel B. Wick and Samuel Holiday appeared Samuel Holliday,
associate
judge of the Madison circuit acknowledged themselves to be indebted to
the
State in the twenty five dollars each for the appearance of Daniel B.
Wick term
of the court to answer.’” The reasonable proposition of Mr. Fletcher
was at
once accepted by all parties. The recognizance was taken in due form,
and
forfeited at the next term, by the absence of Mr. Wick. Judgment was
rendered against Judge Holliday for twenty five dollars. A
petition to the governor was drawn up, and signed by the whole bar; a
remittance soon followed.
The trial of Hudson
commenced the next day after the Sabbath dinner at Judge Hollidays, and
will now
be sketched.
The day for the trial
of Hudson, one of the prisoners, arrived. A.
distinguished lawyers were in attendance from this State, and in the
State of Ohio.
Among the most
prominent I name General James Noble, Philips Sweetzer; Harvey Cregg,
Lot
Bloomfield, James Rariden, Charles H. Test, Calvin Fletcher, Daniel B.
Wick,
and William R. Morris, of this State; General Sampson Mason, and Moses
Ohio.
Judge Wick being temporarily absent in the morning, William R. Morris
arose and
moved the associate judges ” I ask that these gentlemen be admitted as
attorneys and counselors at this bar; they are regular practitioners,
but have
not brought their license with them.” Judge Winchell “Have they come
here to
defend the prisoners? “The most of them have.” “Let them be sworn;
nobody but
a lawyer would defend a murderer.
”
Mr. Morris “I move the court, for a ‘writ of habeas
corpus, to bring
up the
prisoners now illegally confined in jail.” Judge Winchell ”For what?”
“A writ
of habeas corpus.” “What do you want to do with it?’ To bring up the
prisoners
and have them discharged.” “Is there any law for that?” Morris
read the statute regulating the writ of
habeas “That act, Mr. Morris, has been repealed long ago.” “Your honor
is
mistaken; it is a constitutional ‘writ, as old as Magna Charta,
itself.” “Well, Mr. Morris, to cut the matter short,
it would do you no good to bring out the prisoners. I ironed them
myself, and
you will never get them irons off until they have been tried, habeas
corpus or
no habeas corpus.” Percuria “motion overruled.” Judge Wick entered and
took his
seat between the two side judges. “Call the grand jury.” All answer to
their
names and are sworn. Court adjourned for dinner. Court met; the grand
jury
brought into court an indictment for murder drawn by Mr. Fletcher,
against Hudson.
Counsel on both
sides” Bring the prisoner into court.” The ”Sheriff,
put in the box a jury.” Sheriff “May
it please the court, Dr. Highday just handed me a list of jurors to
call on the
jury.” Judge Wick “Bring Dr. Highday into court” “Did your honor wish
to see
me?” “Dr. Highday, is this your handwriting?” “I presume it is.” “Dr.
Highday,
we have no jail to put you in, the one we have is full; hear your
sentence: it
is the judgment of the court that you be banished from these court
grounds till
the trials are over. Sheriff, see the judgment of the court carried
strictly
into execution.”
I digress
to give the scene in court, published by General Sampson
Mason, in a Springfield,
Ohio
Paper “As I entered the court room, the judge was sitting on a block,
paring
his toe nails, when the sheriff entered, out of breath, and informed
the court
that he had six jurors tied, and his deputies were running down the
others.”
General Mason his candor, unquestionably drew upon his imagination in
this instance.
Hudson, the prisoner,
was brought into court by the deputy sheriff and two of the
guard. His appearance had greatly changed since I first saw him in the
log pen
with his comrades in crime. He was now pale, haggard, and downcast; and
with a
faltering voice, answered upon his arraignment, “Not guilty.” The petit
jury
were hardy, honest pioneers, wearing moccasins and side knives. The
evidence occupied but a single
day, and
was positive, closing every door of hope to the prisoner. The
prosecuting
attorney read the statute creating and affixing the punishment to the
homicide,
and plainly stated the substance of the evidence. He was followed for
the
prisoner, in able, eloquent, and powerful speeches, appealing to the
prejudice
of the jury against the Indians; relating in glowing colors the early
massacres
of white men, women and children, by the Indians; reading the principal
incidents in the history of Daniel Boone
and Simon Kenton; relating their cruelties at the battle of Blue Licks
and
Bryant’s station, and not forgetting the defeat of Braddock, St. Clair,
and Harmar.
General James Noble closed the argument for the State in one of his
forcible speeches,
holding up to the jury the bloody clothes of the Indians, and appealing
to the
justice, patriotism, and the love of the laws of the jury, not
forgetting that
the safety of the settlers might depend upon the conviction of the
prisoners, as
the chiefs and warriors expected justice to be done. The speech of the
general
had a marked effect upon the crowd, as well as the jury. Judge Wick
charged the
jury at some length, laying down the law of homicide in its different
degrees,
and distinctly impressing upon the jury that law knew no distinction as
to
nation or color; that the murder of an Indian was equally as criminal
in law as
the murder of a white man. The jury retired, and next morning brought
into
court a verdict of “guilty of murder in the first degree,” motion for a
new
trial overruled. The prisoner was brought into court, and sentence of
death
pronounced in the most solemn manner, by Judge Wick. The time for the
execution
was fixed, as is usual, for a distant day. In the meantime Hudson made his
escape from the guard one
dark night, and hid himself in a hollow log in the woods, where he was
found
and arrested.
Time rolled
on, the fatal day for execution arrived, multitudes of
people were
there. Among them were seen several Senecas, relatives of the murdered
Indians. The
gallows was erected just above the falls, on the north side. The people
covered
the surrounding hills, and at the appointed hour, Hudson, by the forfeiture of his
life, made
the last earthly atonement for his crimes.
Such was
the result of the first case on record in America
where a white man was hung
for killing an Indian. The other cases were continued until the next
term of
the court, and will be the subject of a distinct sketch.
TRIAL OF SAWYER
Monday morning
came. Court met. Judge Eggleston, in fine health, on the
bench
in the center; Adam Winchell on his left, and Samuel Holliday on his
right,
Moses Cox at the clerk's desk, Samuel Cory on the Sheriff's platform,
and
Colonel John Berry, captain of the guard, leaning against the logs. The
grand
jury were called, sworn and charged, and court adjourned for dinner. In
the
afternoon, the evidence of the main witness was heard. I had prepared
the indictments
in my office and had them with me. The foreman signed the bills on his
knee,
and they were all returned into court before the adjournment. That
night,
Colonel John the Indian agent, called at my room and offered me one one
hundred
dollars on behalf of the United
States.
I informed
him that I was a State officer
and could not accept the money, however tempting it might be under
other
circumstances.
The court
met in the morning. We agreed to try Sawyer first for
shooting one of
the squaws. The prisoner was brought into court by the sheriff. He
appeared so
haggard and changed by his long confinement, that I knew him. The court
room was
crowded. General James Noble, Philips Sweetzer and myself for the
State; James
Rariden, Lot Bloomfield, William B. Morris and Charles H. Test, for the
prisoner. Judge Eggleston “Sheriff call the petit jury.” Judge
Winchell—”
Sheriff call Squire Makepeace on the jury, he will be a good juror; he
will not
let one of these murderers get away.” Judge
Eggleston, turning to Judge “This will never do”. What! the court pack
a jury
to try a capital case? The jury was soon
impaneled. The evidence was conclusive that the prisoner had shot one
of the
squaws at the camp with his rifle after the killing of Ludlow and Mingo
by Harper and Hudson in the
woods. The jury were a hardy, heavy bearded set of men, with side
knives in
their belts, and not a pair of shoes among the whole of them; all wore
moccasins.
Mr.
Sweetzer opened for the State with a strong matter-of-fact speech;
that was
his forte. He was followed in able speeches by Mr. Morris, Mr. Mr.
Rariden.,
for the prisoner. General Noble closed for the prosecution, with a
powerful
speech. The general was one of the strongest and most effective
speakers before
a jury, or a promiscuous assembly I have ever heard. The case went to
the jury
under an able charge from Judge Eggleston, and court adjourned for
dinner.
At the
meeting of the court in the afternoon, the jury returned a
verdict of
“guilty of manslaughter,” two years hard labor in the penitentiary. Mr.
Rariden
sprang to his feet, “If the court please, we let judgment go on the
verdict,
and are ready for the case of Sawyer, for killing the Indian boy at the
camp.”
“Ready for the State.” The same jury was accepted by both sides being
in the
box. They were immediately sworn. The evidence was heard again
conclusive
against the prisoner. General Noble opened for the prosecution, and was
followed by Charles H. Test, William B. Morris and James Rariden, with
powerful
speeches. The jury was referred to their verdict in. the previous case,
and
their judgment warmly eulogized. This was, by arrangement, my case to
close. I
saw my position, and that the only point I had to meet, was to draw the
distinction between the two cases, so as to justify the jury in finding
a
verdict for manslaughter in the one case, and of murder in the ease
before
them. In law there was no difference whatever. They were both
cold blooded murders.
The calico shirt of the murdered boy, stained with blood, lay upon the
table. I
was closing a speech of an hour. Stepping forward, I took up the bloody
shirt,
and holding it up to the jury: “Yes, gentlemen of the jury, the cases
are very
different. You might find the prisoner guilty of only manslaughter, in
using
his rifle on a grown squaw; that was the act of a man, but this was the
act of
a demon. Look at this shirt, gentlemen, with the bloody stains upon it;
this
was a poor, helpless boy, who was taken by the heels by this fiend in
human
shape, and his brains knocked out against a log! If the other case was
manslaughter, is not this murder?” The eyes of the jury ‘were filled
with
tears. Judge Eggleston gave a clear and able charge upon the law.
The jury,
after an absence of only a few minutes, returned a verdict of “murder
in the
first degree.” The prisoner was remanded, and court adjourned.
TRIAL OF BRIDGE—SCENES AT THE EXECUTION.
The next morning
the case of Bridge, SR., for shooting a little Indian
girl at
the camp, was called. The prisoner entered with the sheriff He was more
firm in
his step and looked better than Sawyer, though a much older man. A.
jury was
impaneled. The proof was positive. The case was argued by Mr. Morris
and Mr. Rariden
for the prisoner, and Sweetzer and myself for the State. The charge was
given
by Judge Eggleston, and after a few minutes absence the jury returned a
verdict
of “murder in the first degree.” The only remaining case of the
strippling,
Bridge, Jr., for the other Indian boy at the camp came
on next. The trial was more brief, but
the result was the same verdict of murder in the first degree, with a
recommendation,
however, to the governor for a pardon, in consequence of his youth, in
which
the court and bar joined. The trials closed. Pro forma motions for new
trials
were overruled, the prisoners remanded, to be brought up for sentence
next
morning, and the court adjourned.
Morning
came and with it a crowded court house. As I walked from the
tavern I
saw the guards approaching with Sawyer, Bridge, Sr., and, Bridge Jr.,
with
downcast eyes and tottering steps, in their midst. The prisoners
entered the court
room and ‘were seated. The sheriff commanded silence. The prisoners
rose, the
tears streaming down their faces, and their groans and sighs filling
the courtroom.
I fixed my eyes upon Judge Eggleston. I had heard him pronounce
sentence of
death on Fuller, for murder of Warren,
and upon Fields, for the murder of Murphy. But here was a still more
solemn
scene. An aged father, his favorite son and wife's brother all standing
before
him to receive sentence of death. The face of the judge was pale, his
lips quivered,
his tongue faltered, as addressed the prisoners. The sentence of death
by
hanging was pronounced, but the usual conclusion, “And may God have
mercy on
your souls,” was left struggling for utterance.
The time
for the execution was fixed at a distant day; but it soon
rolled, around.
The gallows was erected on the north bank of Fall Creek, just above the
falls,
at the foot of the rising grounds you may see front the cars. The hour
for the
execution had come. Thousands surrounded the logs. A Seneca chief, with
his
warriors, was posted near the brow of hill. Sawyer and Bridge, Sr..,
ascended
the scaffold together, were executed in quick succession, and died
without a
struggle. The vast audience was in tears. The exclamation of the
Senecas was
interpreted “We are satisfied.” An hour expired. The bodies were taken
down and
laid in their coffins, when there was seen ascending the scaffold
Bridge, the
last of the convicts. His step was feeble, requiring the aid of ‘the
Sheriff.
The rope was adjusted. He threw his eyes around upon the audience and
then down
upon the coffins, where lay exposed the bodies of father and uncle.
From that
moment his wild gaze too clearly showed it the scene had been too much
for his
youthful mind. Reason had partially left her throne and be stood wildly
looking
at the crowd, apparently unconscious of his position. The last minute
had come,
when James
Brown Bay,
the Governor of the State, announced to the immense assemblage that the
convict
was pardoned. Never before did an audience more heartily respond, while
there
was a universal regret that the executive mercy had been deferred
to the last
moment Thus ended the only trials where convictions of murder were ever
had,
followed by the execution of white men, for killing Indians, in
the United
State
Anderson, the
county seat of Madison County,
is located on the south bank of White River.
It is named in. remembrance a Delaware
chief of that name, and is the site of an old Indian village. This
Indian village
or what remained of it, as consumed by fire, by order of General
Harrison, in
1813. Not far distant were the small villages of Bucktown, Nanticoke and
Greentown. Among the first
settlers of Anderson, were William
Allen, John
Berry, Alford Makepeace, Samuel Carry, N. Berry,
and William Curtis. A few years later, this little community was
increased by
Joseph Howard, G. T. Hoover, Dr. Wyman, R. N. Williams, J. M. Zeke, C.
B.
Henderson, and Andrew Jackson. About the year 1828-30, they were joined
by W.
G. Atherton, W. B. Allen, Oren Toddhunter, John Davis, William Beard,
and Dr.
T. Ryan. But we have no space to follow the growth of Anderson. Step
by step, in all its measures
of growth, it has become one of the most enterprising cities in the
State, and
has a population of nearly five thousand. It is thrifty in business,
enterprising in manufactures, and prominent in education. Anderson does,
however, need one thing indeed,
the whole county needs it a better court house. Probably this will be
erected
soon. The schools and school buildings, both in the city and county,
are in a
fair condition.
The
following are among the leading business and professional men
of Anderson
at the present time: (Col. N. Berry,
Col. M. S. Robinson, Ex-Judge Lake, Ex-Judge West, William Crim, John
E. Corwin,
J. M. Dickson, T. Ryan, W. R Pearse, J. W. McAllister, Hon. James
Sansbery, N.
C. McCollough, banker; II. N. McComber,
dentist; James H. McConnell.
The principal banks are, the Exchange
Bank (W. Crim, president, and
Jos. Fulton,
cashier); the
Citizens’ Bank (N.C. McCollough, cashier); and the Madison County Bank
(J. E.
Corwin, president, cashier.) These banks are all in a sound condition,
and are
enjoying the well-merited confidence of the public.
Among the
leading commercial houses in Anderson, there may be
mentioned: John
P. Barns, hardware; J. M. Warner, clothing merchant; L T. Elliott,
boots and
shoes; Klein & Sharp, groceries; J. H. Crider, hatter; B. II.
Patterson, grocer;
Bell Bros., dry goods; D. C. East & Bro., dry goods; W. W.
Williams, dry
goods; Bosworth & Bro., doors, sash, blinds, etc.; Lee M. Trees,
dry goods.
The court
house, such as it is, is located in the public square, around
which
the principal business houses of the city have been located. Many of
the
buildings are of a modern style of architecture, and, in every
particular, Anderson
presents a
thrifty appearance.
