Le Roy is known as town three south, range eight west. As to soil, there is, perhaps, no town in the county with a greater diversity, and, perhaps, none possessed. of such extremes. Some as nice land as can easily be found, and some as poor, may be seen here in Le Roy. On the west, the county line between Calhoun and Kalamazoo Counties. are burr-oak plains and heavily timbered lands, the soil of which is proverbially known as the best,— the plains exceeding the prairies for all farming purposes. Nearly all the subsoil of the township is rather heavy, yet none of it leachy. The greater per cent. of the lands, im­proved or otherwise, is somewhat heavy. Yet, a heavy, clay farm, is very rarely met with. In this township the school section chanced to be not the best, yet a majority of it is good land. There is quite a large tract of land near the center of the town, which is somewhat broken and wet, which, as you pass in a north-westerly direction terminates in what is known as the “big marsh,” which, in all, con­tains two or three hundred acres, without which the first settlers would have found it much harder getting along, in procuring fodder for their cattle. Every one knows they were of vast help in those days whether they are at the present day or not. There are three small lakes in the town, abounding plentifully with all kinds of fish gener­erally found in the State, especially in its lakes.

No streams of any considerable importance are to be found, and but few springs. The general timber is oak openings; yet there are sev­eral small bodies of beech and maple scattered through the township. with other kinds, incident to the soil and section.

The township first belonged to a confederation, or was connected with Newton, Burlington and Athens. This confederation was soon divided north and south, leaving Le Roy and Athens together. By an act of the Legislature at its session of 1837—8, town three south, range eight west, was set off and called Le Roy, at the suggestion of one of the very first settlers, David C. Fish, formerly of Le Roy, New York.

The first settler in the township was Wm. Bishop, who took a frac­tional lot of eighty-five acres, the very north-west corner lot in town. He, however, remained alone but a short time before (in the course of a year or two) Reman Baker, Ira Case, Silas Kelsey, and Timothy Kelsey, came and settled in the western part of the town, while soon after, Lorenzo Taylor came also, and Dudley N. Bushnell soon fol­lowed, and settled in the south part, while now and then the smoke might have been seen” curling from the rude cabins of the pioneers near the eastern limits, where Mr. Coats, Joshua Robinson, Mr. Cowles, and a few others, had followed where “westward the star of empire takes its way.”

The first town meeting was held at the house of Ira Case, in the spring of 1837, when there were hardly enough men, or voters, to fill the offices in town. Halcyon days those, with more offices than can­didates! The ticket, in part, was as follows: Supervisor— D. N. Bushnell; Clerk—John E. Muiholland; Justices—Pollodore Hud­son, T. B. Barnum, and Silas Kelsey. The first or “oldest in­habitants” found much difficulty in many things, as regards help to raise their dwellings, doing their milling, procuring lumber, and many things without which they could not get along. To illustrate: Heman Baker had to have three raisings to get up his little house four­tce.n by twenty feet, and go seven miles for help. He had to get what Indian help he could besides, to finish raising, at the third attempt. That was in the fall of 1835. There were, at that time, only five families in town. His nearest neighbor, one way, was two miles and a half, and ten the other. He hired his milling brought from Cornstock to Climax, a distance of eighteen miles, and then backed it the rest of the way, four miles. Thus, it will be seen that he earned his bread by the sweat of his brow.

The first white child born in town was Esther A., daughter of Martin Cole, now wife of Chas. Peters, at Battle Creek, who was born May 1, 1836; and the first white male child was Chas. E. Ba­ker, born June 17, 1836.

The first district school in town was taught by Miss Hannah Sprague, in the summer of 1837, in district No. 1. Politically, Le Roy has always been strongly antislavery. On the 4th of July, 1842, the “big meeting” was held in thc grove on Silas Kelsey’s farm, and addressed by Dr. Bement. It has ever since been desig­nated as “the big meeting,” as it was by far the largest collection of people ever gathered together in town, when the amount of popu­lation at that period is taken into account. All the towns adjoining came, and were bountifully provided for.

Le Roy was the first township in the United States which gave an antislavery majority, and so published at the time by The Emancipator, we believe, and has ever since been foremost in the cause. It, perhaps, was in good keeping that the very ground which was cov­ered with tables for refreshing the multitude at the meeting, should afterward be dotted with the forms of the fugitives, fleeing from slav­ery, via the underground railroad, a branch of which ran through Le Roy.

In the spring of 1838, death first visited the settlement, or town­ship, rather, and took a daughter from the family of Timothy Kel­sey. While playing, her clothing accidentally took fire, and before assistance could be rendered, she was so fatally burned that death ensued in a short time. Then catne the friendly sympathy, the sym­pathetic aid and kindly offices known only to the early settler in a new country. Then was there no mourning according to fashion’s dic­tates, no empty forms of costly crapes and pageantry; but each neighbor, far or near, paid. a fitting tribute to the early dead, and evinced heartfelt sympathy for the bereaved. The funeral services were held at their own house, of a necessity, and then and there were the first religious services conducted by a minister, Rev. Justin Marsh, of Battle Creek, officiating. The sudden death, the dreadful cause and incident, together with the bereavement, cast a gloom over the sparsely-settled. neighborhood, which will ever be fresh in the memory of those bereaved, and the sympathizing neighbors as well. It was the first death, the first inroad made upon their numbers, and to have one of them so rudely taken, seemed dreadful and terrible in the extreme—a calamity as sudden as it was painful.

About this time another event occurred to mar the security of the settlement. While Mr. Baker was returning from cutting hay, just in the evening, having been some two miles from home, at work on a marsh, the tragedy occurred. It was a very pleasant evening, nearly eight o’clock, and a full moon was shining, making the night very lovely, and as he was proceeding quite leisurely along, enjoying the scene, suddenly every pleasant thought was put to flight by an event which was fruitful of much trouble to him for weeks afterward. He carried a little cask which he used for the purpose of a water flask, and the cork had been pushed inside, and rolled from side to side as he walked along. making a sound with which the “noble red man” was not very con­versant. He had just passed through a slight ravine, and was making the ascent on the other side, when he saw a small body or party of Indians just rising the hill from the west, who were returning from a visit to his house. The party consisted of four ponies, loaded with squaws and their children, and among them the family, in part or whole, of Penamoo, the chief of the tribe. The first thing that met their gaze, as they looked over the hill, was Mr. Baker in his white shirt sleeves, with the noise of his water flask to help make “night hideous” to their pony imagination, and a general stampede was the result. Every saddle or pony’s back was immediately emptied, and with a snorb and dashaway they ran into the bushes, and left the consort of Penamoo, with his heir or heirs, as the case might have been, to his throne and greatness, dumped on the ground in a not very majestic heap. He immediately hastened to the spot, feeling instinctively that much evil had been wrought, although not knowing to what extent. He went up very friendly, and tried to easiest them in catching their ponies, and restoring order in general; but his friendly offices were met with wild exclamations of Kinnapoo chemokaman. Kinnapoo chemokamam;” and they proceeded to put their threats (which meant, “Kill white man”) into execution according to the best of their ability. He, however, laid about him right and left. dashing a squaw here and another there, until the four were brought to bay, and he then proceeded to investigate the damages done. He found the pappoose of Penamoo lying on the ground, with its arm broken in two places, and the elbow out of joint. Then, he said, he began to feel rather uncomfortable in mind, knowing the vindictive nature of an Indian.

He proposed, however, to make the best of it and act in the right, both of justice and humanity, and tried to get them to go to his wigwam, and he would attend to the wants of the child, and perhaps pacify them to a certain extent. But the only return he received for his advances were whoops and yells of “Kin­napoo chemokamam,” which all ended in one grand Indian “howde­low,” with no appreciative audience except himself. They at last quieted down enough to listen to his proposals — just enough to hear what he said but would not complv at all, but wished him to go with them to taheir wigwams, which stood near where he had been at work. He, however, did not propose to slip the noose quite over his neck, or sign his death warrant just then, especially on such a grand and beautiful night as that besides, he too had a little one awaiting his return. Finding that he could do nothing to pacify them, he went home and left them yelling like so many furies.

The next day he went over east in the next settlement, now known as the Sprague neighborhood, to visit the sick, and did not return until late. His wife told him that the old chief, Penainoo, had been there, during the day, to settle. He very well knew that he should be compelled to do something of a conciliatory nature, or suffer the consequences which would inevitably follow. He finally concluded to take Mr. Taylor and Mr. Bishop with him, as Mr. Bishop, having been among the Indians some longer, would be useful as an inter­preter. So the second day after the event they went over to the palatial residence of Peuamoo. On the way he cut a stout staff, but had no real occasion to use it. They proceeded to the wigwam, and the same four squaws were around the door, brandishing knives, and calling upon each other to kinnapoo chemokamam.” He passed right along, however, without pretending to notice them, and sat down in the door of the wigwam. Then the squaws would gather together, and tell each other over and. over again how it happened. One would hide behind a stump, and then suddenly jump out with extended hands, and cry out some word expressive of sudden fright, or tell that chemokaman did so and so, which implied that he fright­ened the ponies purposely. They soon went in, and found the child in quite a critical condition: arm very much swollen, and the weather very warm, and all seemed afraid it might die. They stayed all day, but could not compromise, nor do anything with them, except that they agreed to come over next day and settle the affair in some way. The long night following wore away as all such nights do, and the next day brought the expected party, all painted and armed for war.

At last an offer was had by Penamoo, a way in which he would settle, and the only way. He was to receive ten dollars, and a "me jash (big) blanket ;“ and if pappoose died, he must have Mr. Baker’s pappoose; and if he would not let him have him, he would kill him, or his pappoose, or both. He finally agreed to accept three dollars, in one hundred days, and went off. A heavy tribute was laid on Mr. Baker, however, and to keep them pacified, he had nearly to support the entire wigwam until the child recovered. In the meantime he arranged his business as best he could, to hold himself in readiness to leave with his family, in case the pappoose should die, at a moment’s notice. In order to keep posted, he had a man go to the wigwam daily, and report to him the condition of the patient.

It would, perhaps, be hard for any but those who were interested, fully to appreciate the situation. They passed long nights and tedi­ous days of watching; their own children not allowed to go from the door, for fear of being kidnapped, and all the former friendship of the Indians turned to treachery. Before this event they were quite trusty, and friendly; but now were a treacherous, thieving set. This family were finally driven off with the rest of the Indians, and went to Canada; but before they went, they had to display the vindictive­ness of their nature, by coming armed and equipped, to burn his house. Mr. B., however, took down his rifle, went to the door, and fired over their heads and dispersed them, and never was molested by them after.

Le Roy now numbers about three hundred and sixty voters, and the assessed valuation of real estate for 1869 is $171,550; and per­sonal, $36,890.

The first religious organization was Congregational, by whom was erected the first church edifice in the year 1846, which was dedicated in the winter of 1847, and which enjoyed the labors of the first set­tled minister, Rev. A. W. Bushnell. At the present time there are two religious organizations in town—the one just alluded to, and the Methodist Episcopal, both having a church edifice and a parsonage. There are five resident ministers in town: One Baptist, one Congre­gational, and three Methodist.

There are eleven district schools, and no groggeries. The town is divided, or designated, as East and West Le Roy. At East Le Roy there are a postoffice (East ILe Roy), a store, grist mills, a saw mill, and blacksmith shop, all owned by Almon A. Allen, excepting the black­smith shop. The mills are run by water power, and are known as the East Le Roy Mills. A. A. Allen is postmaster.

At West Le Roy there is a blacksmith and wagon shop, shoe shop, and postoffice, with quite a thickly settled street, but no village. Here is situated the Methodist church. The postoffice was established in 1854, with T. S. Cole postmaster. Byron E. Cole is postmaster

There are two stores (one in South LeRoy) one flouring mill and four saw mills in town. LeRoy with the rest of her sister towns nobly did her duty in the time of the war furnishing men, women and means, never suffering a draft, always supplying every call for volunteers.