Jottings of the Norton's and his own life
by William D. Norton
Sedalia, Mo., written in 1907 and 1908.
Submitted by: Rex Bosse src#1

 Jottings of the Norton's and his own life
by William D.  Norton, Sedalia, Mo., written in 1907 and 1908.

The father mentioned in the first page is Ebeneezer Miles Norton, who married Susannah Miller.
One of their sons was named Charles William Norton at birth, but renamed William David Norton by his grandmother, at age 2,
when his younger brother was born and received the name Charles.  He mentions this early in the manuscript.

Ebeneezer Miles Norton married Susannah Miller, and had the following child, among others.
Charles William/William David Norton, who married Cynthia Cordelia Hunt
Their third child was Alida Eloise Norton, who married Dr. William Bidwell Page
The only child of that union was Mildred Alida Page, who married George James Heckendorn
The descendants of that family retain ownership of this document.

    In the year 1820, my Father (Ebenezer Miles Norton) having had a spell of sore eyes, and not feeling robust attended one or two terms of school at Litchfield Highschool, Connecticut, and while there Judge Holmes was seeking somebody to assist him in surveying some land he had bought in Ohio, and as Father was anxious to see the West, (as Ohio was then called the West) he thought it a good chance to go.  When he told Captain Norton (his Father) he was going to Ohio, grandfather said, it would be better for Father to stay and finish his education, and at the sane time he could look after the old farm, and his Father proposed he would go in Father's place, and if grandfather liked the country, he could sell out the old farm, and all go to Ohio; so as proposed grandfather went instead of Father. 

    In about 1822, grandfather had come back from Ohio, sold the old Litchfield Connecticut farm, and in company with my Father and his brother Frederick, started for Ohio.  Uncle William D.  Norton, my Father's oldest brother, was then with his uncle, David McNeil, in Vienna, now called Phelps, New York, and also a younger brother, Isaac McNeil Norton, was there, clerking for his Uncle, David McNeil Their Uncle, David McNeil was engaged with Bartle in the manufacturing of axes, and fin­ally in the transportation of goods.  They owned a steamboat which they decided to sell, and Uncle William D.  Norton went down to Albany and after selling the steamboat, was found the next morn­ing, dead in bed at a hotel (supposed to have been apoplexy).  His Uncle, David McNeil, died soon after and he was found to be insolvent and his property was sold at a sacrifice.  In the mean­time, my father with his brother Frederick, and their own Father had gone on to Ohio, where they found their log cabin built and five acres of land cleared, as had been previously arranged by our Grandfather.

   That same fall, 1822, Grandfather went back to Connecticut and completed the arrangements.  On the first night of their arrival, they stayed with Thomas Cook who lived about a mile from their home.  Thomas Cook had looked after the building of this house and the clearing of the five acres of land and had the logs piled and brush ready for burning.  In the spring of 1823 they started bringing the remainder of his family to Ohio, namely, Grandmother, my father's younger brothers, Birdsey Bald­win, Elisha Andrus, Samuel Erastus, Lauren Corodon, and their sister Lucinda; also taking with them Grandfather's foster mother, Granny Hosford, who was nearly eighty years old.

   The Judge Holmes' tract of land was laid off in five mile squares, each called a township, and each township was laid off in twenty-five lots of one hundred acres each, and the center of each township was to be the post-office, called the Center, but section and one-fourth section or in thirty-six squares of three hundred and twenty, acres each, interfered with the old Connecticut Western Reserve, and could not make the lines meet nor make roads agree, hence plenty of disputes and crooked roads.

   The land chosen by Captain Norton was on the south part of the Reserve, and south part of Medina Co., Westfield Township, Ohio.  My Father bought of his Father one hundred acres, and was to pay for it in work, $2.50 per acre.  This land joined on Wayne Co.  which was layed off in squares of six miles each and hence could not make roads to suit end of township lines, and many farms were cut up with roads.  Father's one hundred was cut north and south by road leaving about 15 acres east of road and 85 west of road.  My Father built his house on the west side of the road, while the house built by my grandfather was built on the east of the road, the road also cutting off 8 or 10 acres from the one hundred leaving 90 acres on the west.

   Grandfather put out most of his land east of road in fruit trees, and lived in his log house until my Father left home, in 1827.  Then grandfather built west of the road, and soon after this, grandfather died leaving grandmother to live with uncle Birdsey, grandmother having owned one hundred acres of this home, had deeded it to Uncle Birdsey for her,and grandfather's maintenance, as long as they lived.

   Grandma often spun yarn and made mittens, and kept her grandchildren supplied with mittens and each pair was tied together with a woolen cord to hang about the neck, but often it would break and then one mitten would be lost.  She would then make another with a new cord and in the winter we kept her quite busy.

   Grandmother Norton had lots of geese and each month would pick them, then we boys would catch the geese for her to pick.  She had a muzzle to put over the mouth of the geese so they could not bite her when picking feathers.  Sometimes the old gander would show fight and bite us boys before we could put on the muzzle which would leave a black and blue spot, but it was real fun for us.  She also had some sheep; Uncle Birdsey getting one-half the wool and one-half of the increase; with her wool she would card, spin and knit mittens.

   About 1832, Grandmother proposed to change my name from Charles William, Norton to William David Norton, giving my former name to my infant brother calling him Charles Frederick Norton; William David being the full name of her eldest son and Charles Frederick being the full name of her fourth son.  She also gave the eldest son of Uncle Birdsey the full name of one of her sons, Samuel Erastus.  At about that time she decided to give each of her grand­children a ewe sheep.

   The names of our Grandparents were Miles (or Capt.  Miles Norton, for he was the captain of a company in 1812, but having broken a leg, the first Lieutenant took his place).  His wife's name was Lois McNeil.  They were married in 1797, and had ten children, the oldest William David (after whom I was named) born in 1797, Ebenezer Miles, (my Father) born 1799, Isaac McNeil (after whom my brother Mack was named) born in 1802, Birdsey Baldwin, born 1807, Charles Frederick, (after whom my brother was named) born 1805, Elisha Andrus, born 1810, (I see Charles Frederick should have come before Birdsey Baldwin) Samuel Erastus the 1st, born 1812, (died in infancy) Lois Lucinda, born 1814, Samuel Erastus the 2d, born 1816, and Lauren Coroden, born 1820.  All lived to be grown except Samuel Erastus the 1st, and five lived to be over eighty years old, my father over ninety, three lived to celebrate their golden wedding, viz.: Ebenezer Miles (my Father) Isaac McNeil, and Samuel Erastus.  Like their Father three of my uncles had red (or sandy hair;) the oldest and the youngest and also Uncle Isaac McNeil.

   My uncle, William David Norton, married Charlotte Melissa, Whitemore; they had one daughter who died in infancy.  My Father, Ebenezer Miles Norton, married Susanah Miller, in 1827, had eight children;

Dewitt Clinton    B.   1828.

William David B.   1830.

Charles Frederick  B.   1832,

Isaac McNeil  B.   1834

Elisha Newton B.  1836.

James Miller  B.   1842.

Eliza Melissa B.   1845.

James Dewitt  B.   1848.

They all lived to be grown but James Miller, and Dewitt James, but only three are now; living.  William David (myself) seventy-eight years old, and Elisha Newton, seventy-two, and Eliza Melissa sixty-three, William David (myself) and my brother, Elisha Newton both live on our farms adjoining each other, but William David has divided his farm among his children who now have possession, but Elisha Newton still holds his property in his own name.  My sister, Eliza M.  Browning lives in Chicago.  Her husband is in the mail service.  Dr.  Arthur Norton Mackey, her son by her first husband, lives with them.

   Uncle Isaac McNeil Norton married a southern lady, by the name of Eliza Edmundson; they had four children, their first Louisa married a man by the name of Daniel Brown, who lived in Janesville, Wisconsin, second Elizabeth McNeil Norton, married William Porter, and lived in Seville, Medina county, Ohio and had three children, first named Medwin Porter, second Minnie Porter and third, Edna Porter.  The third of Uncle Isaac's children was named Ruth Ann, married Robert F.  Paige, he dying after one year of marriage and leaving one daughter, Adelaide.  Ruth afterward lived with her daughter, Adelaide, in Oshkosh, Wisconsin.  The fourth child was John Thomas Norton, who was in business with his Father at Hastings, Nebraska, married Delphine McMellin, who had three child­ren, Charles McNeil Norton, William Cuyler and Laura May.

   Uncle Charles Frederick died in early manhood at Phelps, New York, while studying for the methodist ministry.

   Birdsey Baldwin Norton married Emily Miranda Ward, and had six children namely; Samuel Erastus, born 1834, Charles William, born 1836, George Baldwin, born 1839, Lauren David, born 1842, John Hibbard, born 1845, died 1847, and Amelia, born 1848.  Birdsey Baldwin married his second wife, Clarissa Rogers, 1856, and had one child named Ida Clarissa born 1858.

   Elisha Andrus married Sylvia Ward, 1837, had seven children, Miles E., Isaac, Lois, Charlotte, William 1st, William 2d, and Charles.  Miles married Catherine Fullerton, 1861, Lois married David Fisher, 1859; Isaac married Martha Hutchison, 1861, Charlotte married Thomas Fitch 1860.  The others died in infancy.

   Lois Lucinda married Lambert Cook 1832, had three children.  Sophronia married Dentin Dowd (they had no children).  Melinda died in childhood.  Charles Cook married Addie Cook (no relation) in 1872, She died leaving a son Frederick E.  born 1873.  He married Estella Martin, of Seville, Ohio, and had three children, Beatrice, Audrey Bessie, and Kenneth, Audrey Bessie dying at the age of four years.  Charles Cook married his second wife Ida J.  Hayes; they had two children, Lottie and Kirk.

    Samuel Erastus married Aner Crane, and lived in Phelps, New York, and had five children, three of whom lived to be grown.  The first was Charles C.  Norton, born 1846, married Loa McLead in 1781.  Had one daughter who died in infancy.  Loa died in 1873 and Charles married the second time Wilhelmina Frances in 1879.  They had three children, Charles Francis born 1880, Emily Crane born 1882; William Augustus born in 1888.  William David Norton, born in 1850, married Linda Jackson in 1874; they had two children, William Jackson born in 1880; Charles Crane born in 1882.  Carso Crane Norton born in 1851, married Carrie B.  Morse, in 1880; they had five children, three of who lived to be grown; Eva Grace born 1883; Mary Elizabeth, born in 1887, and Ednah Lois born in 1889.

   Lauren Corodon, married Urania Ward in 1844; had six children that lived to be grown; Maria Louise Norton, born in 1845; married William Cosselman; had one daughter who lived to be grown, Mary Urania Cosselman, born 1878, married George E.  Merriman; in 1898; they had two children, Winifred Julia, born 1901, Westley Delebert, born 1907.  (here there were four that died in childhood) The oldest son, Luke Ward Norton was born in 1852, married Alfrona Bair 1880; they had five children, Marian Birdsey, born in 1881, second Pearl Norton, born 1882, married Fred Washburn in 1909; Cora Belle Norton born in 1885; Edna Norton, born 1890, married H.  I.  Haines, 1913; Hazel Norton, born 1896.

   2d son, Perry S.  Norton, born May 17, 1854; married Elizabeth Lucas, had seven children, the daughters were Anna, Ida and Mary, sons were, Miles, Samuel, Charles and Leonard.

   3rd son, David Byron Norton, born May 4, 1856; married Mary Gearhart, had eight children.  Daughters were Daisy Pearl, Eva, Clara and Golden May.  The sons were Earl, Clark Loyd and Ralph.

   4th son, John Eddie Norton, born December 17, 1858; married Electa Hartman, had two sons, Jesse and Lauren.

   5th son, William Ebenezer Norton, born January 23, 1861; married Elmira Burdick, had six children.  The daughters were, Grace, Harriet, Minnie and Bessie.  The sons were William and Perry.

William David Norton's Own Life.

     I will now give a brief account of my own life.  I was born April 27, 1830, in a one and one-half story house, about 18 by 32 feet, the house being partly log and partly frame.  The north part built up to one-half way between chamber floor and garret floor, and was 18 feet square , the logs being hewn!on one side.  This room had a door on the east side, and windows south of the door, there was also one window on the north side about the middle of the room and has a door southeast of the middle; this door led into a room of the frame building adjoining the log part which was sixteen by eighteen feet, and all were under one roof, and sided up with boards three-fourths of an inch thick and ten inches wide, which were of black walnut lumber.  This part had two windows on the east, one door on the south, and one window west of this door.  The south door was about thirty feet from the well ― this well had an old fashioned well sweep consisting of posts set in the ground and a sweep pole with a large pin, connecting the fork of post.  This sweep was long enough to reach the ground on either aide of the post, and then a small slim pole from the sweep long enough to reach the bottom of the well, and it always squeaked when drawing water but the water seamed good when drawn by the old oaken bound bucket.  This well was thirty-two feet deep, and had only a small supply of water, but sufficient for household use, but not enough for stock.

    The old house was never painted but was as good as anyof our neighbors and lasted from 1827, to 1847; the house had two rooms below; there was a large fire place on the west side of the kitchen, this place was so large that when coming in from the cold, we could stand against the jamb, and look up out of the chimney; the large oven adjoined this fireplace on the north, a petition running over the mantle shelf to the north wall enclosed a closet and winding stairs; this closet and all the room under the stairs to the oven, was called the stuckhole, where they kept clothes, skates, and boots, the stairs winding over the stuckhole and chimney.  On the south part of this room there was.  a clothes press near the middle door, and had a bed in the north part of the kitchen.  Father's and Mother's bed stood in the southeast corner of the kitchen, with a trundle-bed that rolled under it, where when pulled out the younger children slept, and if they slept late and a neighbor came in, Mother would sometimes roll it under her bed and they were kept there a long time.  Under this trundle bed there was a trap door which led to the cellar, and a ladder to get in and out.  Upstairs there were four half windows just under the eves, one window at each end and two on the east side.

    The land chosen by my Father, was south of a stream called, "Killbuck", (named after an Indian chief, called Killbuck) This stream was very crooked and came very near coming together at one place.  The bend in this stream was about seven miles across, and the nearest point where it came together was less than one-half mile, the land inside of this was called the bend and as it took in more of Canaan Township than any other it was called Canaan Bend.  The people of Canaan Bend were noted far and near for their genuine goodness, as most of its pioneers were not only enterprising in advancing worldly affairs, but were noted for their truly godliness.  The Methodist Episcopal Church being in the lead, made rapid growth, and soon needed a church to worship in and it was then concluded to build a church on Dr.  Barnes' land, he being the most influential, thought best to build near him.  They went as far as to get out timber, when Dr.  Barnes died; after his death, and when the roads were more settled, it was thought best to move the timbers about one mile east of the Barnes farm, and build near a cross-road and enlarge the school lot, and put both buildings on the same corner.  They then chose a lot, one half mile east of the church for place of burial.  The site for the church was given to the church by William Weed, and the site for the cemetery was given by Mr.  Thrap.  This church could hold at least six hundred people, and was often filled to its utmost, and the schoolhouse was used to accommodate the overflow.  The membership was over one hundred and was divided in five classes, four of which met in the church and one in the school house; and such an interesting time was never witnessed, before or since.  All were full of zeal, many full of the Holy Spirit, and were affected in different manners; some would sit down and laugh and laugh, others would run and shake hands with all, others would run over the benches and seats keeping on the extreme top, others would jump up and down, others would go around carrying anything that came in their way, others would fall down like a dead person.  These scenes occurred not only at times of revivals, but also at weekday prayer meeting.  It seemed the people were greatly in earnest, taking this way to express themselves; while others seemed to be more reserved and less demonstrative - and not so excited; but both were in earnest and hundreds were converted; and as the west was settled, up, many went west, taking their zeal with them, becoming a power for good wherever they settled.  This continued until 1845, when trouble arose between Schaffer, the preacher, in charge, and the members.  He desired to live in town, accordingly, left the parsonage in the country, and rented a house in town, then attempted to compel the members to pay his rent, which they refused to do.

    A short time after this, Schaffer was chosen presiding elder of the same district, and had influenced conference to send a man named Rollan H.  Chub, as his successor on this circuit, and between them they had agreed to continue this fight about the parsonage, and soon had the charge in the turmoil.  Many left the church and joined other churches, most of them joining the United Brethern Church.  This man Chub, found fault with the members, and was continually bringing charges against them, throwing all he could from the church; this continued until the old Canaan Bend was completely wrecked, but a few stayed by the church and got a petition charging the presiding Elder and preacher in charge proving them to be enemies to the church; they sent Father to the conference, and the conference then took action.

    They sent Chub to a small appointment and removed Schaffer from being Presiding Elder, but the old Canaan Bend M.  E.  Church never regained its former strength, but its influence for good will never be fully known.  This divination may be excused "Why is not society still in the lead" This is the reason, Spite done it all but good may come out of it.

    We came very near having the same experience here, in Missouri, when the Methodist Episcopal Church, built a church in Smithtown; some of the members did not like the way the building was managed, finally all gathered together again, and by self-sacrifice, is now on a fair way of doing good.  The man they there found the most fault with is now a leader (Ellison) in the church work.  This church is about as noted as Old Canaan Bend in its palmy days, and some of us old folks can see the difference between spite work, and also letting others have some say.

    My brother Clinton, being two years older than myself, was born in 1828.  He was rocked in a large saptrough, and Mother having chills and ague, fearing that Clinton would contract the chills by nursing, my Father concluded to get a puppy( dog, and fed Clinton Cows milk and Mother nursed the pup, who got the chills and shook every day, but after two or three months, when Mother was better, the pup was also better.  Brother Clinton was named after Governor Clinton of New York who did so much for the New York and Erie Canal.

    In 1830 I was born and named Charles William, till after my next younger brother was born, then grandma Norton wanted my name changed to William David, and gave brother the Charles.  This is the first of real rebellion for I was used to being called Charles, and then to be called William or Bill was a little tough, but I soon got used to it ,

    In 1835 grandfather Norton died from a stroke of apoplexy (which would now be called paralysis).  When first taken ill he was at his sons in Phelps, New York, but died about a week after he reached home.  He was buried at Winsons Corners, Westfield Township, Medina Co., Ohio at present known as Friendsville Cemetary.  I remember going with my parents to the funeral; we all went in a lumber wagon, and while at the grave it rained very hard, and all got under the wagon, but Father took the end gate of the wagon box and held over me; I was then five years old, but it seems only yesterday,

    About this time, 1836, Uncle Joseph Miller, sold out the old Miller farm and moved to Illinois, leaving his Father and Mother, my grandparents, for my Mother and her sister (my Aunt Matilda) to care for, and as aunt already had grandmother Lawrence, (her husbands Mother) to care for, my Mother took grandfather and grandmother; aunt Betsy (my maiden aunt) said that if Father would build then a house she would help keep them.  Father did so, and three kept house until Amasa Geer married Aunt Betsy, about 1838.

    In 1837, my Father, Mother, granddad, and granny Miller visited uncle Isaac Miller, at Canton, Ohio; (an older brother of granddad).  At that time he loaned granddad a young horse which he could keep as long as he lived, then it was to be returned.

    After Aunt Betsy's marriage, and granddad's death in 1840, granny lived with us, for about ten years, when she died in her eightieth year in 1850.  Granddad was troubled with a weak back, however his mind was good; Granny during her last days was strong in body, though she had become weak in mind.

    In about 1839, surveyors came on Campbell Creek and the Killbuck River Bottom, in the interest of Cleveland and Erie Canal; and we boys led the way all night, when in line to drive stakes.

    In 1847, grandma Norton died.  She contracted Ship Dysentery from Uncle Samuel Norton's child (Willie) who had slept and died in grandma's bed.  Uncle Birdsey's John Hibbard also took the same disease and died two days after grandma, but I do not think that any others contracted the disease.

    In 1827, Uncle Andrus Norton married Sylvia Ward; she was a fine tailoress.  At that time she was living with her cousin Emily,, uncle Birdsey's wife where they were married; some of us boys were at the wedding.  Sylvia Ward had teen teaching school at the time of her marriage; she was not only an expert seamstress but a noted horse woman, and could manage horses wonderfully; she was also a fine cook, and I think that uncle was very lucky.

    April 10, 1844, uncle Corodon Norton married Urania Ward, a sister of Sylvia Ward so their children were double cousins.

    At that time uncle Andrus was living, where Abner Ray had lived, and where uncle James Miller caught his cold trying to put out the fire of the old Ray house.  After the house burned, and Ray sold it to uncle Andrus, he moved near Medina where he and his wife both died.  Uncle Andrus built a new house on the same site where Ray's had burned and also built a house for his brother-in-law, Daniel Ward, and there uncle Corodon and his wife commenced housekeeping.  Uncle Andrus built a fine barn on a bank north of the two houses mentioned; it had a fine cellar or stable under the floor, and a place for a threshing machine, in the middle of the floor, with slats lying lengthwise to separate wheat from the chaff which could be done while the machine was running by keeping the straw well shook up leaving the grain to fall through the floor, thus saving chaff piling.  Uncle, while living at this place, also engaged in selling jewelry, and was head quarters for the firm of Norton, Hatch & Wheeler.  While uncle was off peddling jewelry we had a big rain and a big flood; uncle's sheep were on the bottom land of the Killbuck, the water rose very fast, and the sheep had huddled on the bend of the river, the old channel filled up, so aunt Sylvia took a team and wagon, we boys going with her and caught the sheep, put them in the wagon, but before getting across, the wagon wheels pulled out from under the box, leaving aunt and us boys in the box, but fortunately the water was yet fordable and we succeeded in getting the sheep over, though we were completely water soaked.

    Soon after this uncle Andrus purchased the Alvian Cook farm, and sold Father and uncle Birdsey his bottom land; then Father bought uncles fine bank barn, and moved it to where it now stands, east of the road, where the old Miller house once stood.

    In 1852, the Atlantic and Great Western Railway, made their first survey, and their lines went through Father's big barn south of the house, but they did not build the railroad until 1863.  The railroad company agreed to move the barn, and put it northwest of the house, about fifty rods from where it now stands.  Soon after this my Father thought his farm a little to large, as brother Mack and I were in the lumber business in Michigan, George Bowman wished to buy the old farm, and.  agreed to pay $50.0Q per acre, which was the original 100 acres, which my Father had bought of his own Father, including the brick house and big barn, then Father built a house east of the road on the balance of seventy-five acres; he then loaned, brother Mack and I, the money, to put in our lumber business.  The land father sold to Bowman formerly had a fine stone quarry on it.  The time we discovered this fine stone was when we were build­ing the cellar for the brick house; I went to Burbank to see their stone quarry and found it not good; we then commenced examining the stone we had on the ridge, but did not find it good but going down to the spring bottom, found a rock stone covered with thin slate stone; after getting the slate stone off, a fine stone in layers of two to ten inches thick, and perfectly smooth and even.  Then with Pick & Millbar pried up the layers, and put hardhead stones under the lift, then taking a big hardhead and raising it over our head, bringing it down until we could break the stone; not until we had stone enough for the cellar did we ever see a sledge hammer, but broke all the rock with a large hard nigger head weighing over one hundred pounds, but the stones were even and took but little work to fit them for the wall.  After we had enough stone for our own cellar our neighbors wanted some, and we only charged what it cost to prepare the stone.  The brick house was begun in 1847, and was well under way, when Clinton, my brother, took sick.  The walls of the house were up to the stair window when he became so ill, we stopped building until after his death; we felt we had lost the principal one as he had done more than any other, and now we must finish it alone; I felt it a great calamity to me, I being only two years younger than my brother, Clinton, I must now take the lead, and late in the fall we got the house so near done, we moved into it, and near Christmas time we had a regular house warming; had about one hundred sf our neighbors and friends there; before midnight it began to rain and continued raining all night, so most of the guests stayed, and in the morning the water on the old Killbuck was over one-half mile wide, and could not be crossed, so all stayed another night and also the next, then some managed to go home, so we sure had a house warming.

    Some years after that the Killbuck was straightened, and now the water falls much sooner, and seldom over flows.

    In the fall of 1844, my Father said that before they would build a house, they would take a trip west, and perhaps would sell out and not build as they had intended.  When they came back from the west they said it did not suit them.  The spring before this, my Mother's brother, Abraham Miller, who was a brick mason, had made them a kiln of brick, but these brick not being a success, Father sold them.  I can remember well how these brick were made.  Uncle Abraham commenced making the brick yard, north of the Killbuck, we had dug the clay in the fall before, and in the spring of 1844, two vats were made, that would hold enough clay to make one thousand brick, each vat was lined with two-inch plank, putting in water and clay enough to make the brick, and then with a strong yoke of oxen would drive into the vat, driving them around and around, and after treading it thoroughly, and changing the outside to the inside, the oxen would be taken out out and the clay be made into brick, while other oxen were being driven in the other pit; the first ten thousand of these brick were not perfect, but Henry Constable said he would put us up better brick, at less cost; so my Father gave the contract to him, he used ground clay which was much better to handle, and we boys all helped, some putting the clay in molds, my youngest brother, Newton, worked in the yard, his job being to edge up the brick, when they were dry enough, he pulled the bricks two at a time and soon could edge up one thousand bricks; when the brick kiln was already for firing, Henry Constable's Father took charge of it and did not allow anyone to put in a stick of wood until he took out the peak hole brick in the upper point of each arch; Gideon Owens was the bricklayer who laid the brick in the house, and an old man by the name of Jason did all the tin work.

    In about 1848, my Father thought it best to clear off a sugar bush of about one hundred trees.  There was an old saw mill just south of this sugar bush, owned by James Ryan who also was a turner, and would work all these maple trees into bed posts and chair stuff, taking his pay partly in posts and chair stuff.  We had a quantity of this stuff left when Mack and I went to Michigan, which was piled in the barn.

    When the Atlantic & Great Western R.  R.  was built through, it went on the county line and between sections called the western reserve, and an old state line, but not following any direct line only bearing southward from New York to Akron, Mansfield and Galion.  It ran near the county line through my Father's land, and it made a new channel for the Killbuck, after that there were no overflows.  Just at my Father's home it ran so straight east and west, that one side of the car wheels were in one county while the other side of the car wheels were in the other.  This railroad rather improved the land by draining the Killbuck.  They bought some of the best farms at $50.00 and acre with good buildings.

    In 1853 my Father saw a farm near Three Rivers, Mich.  situated on Johnicake prairie that he wished to buy for a home; he could then sell his home in Ohio for $38.00 per acre, but Mother would not consent to sell as she wished us all where we were and live close together but her hopes were not realized at that time for brother Mack and I moved to Michigan in the spring of 1857.  We did not expect to stay there long as we went only to saw lumber out of fallen trees, which was on our own land.

    About 1851, brother Frederick and I rented the old home farm, and we were to have all we could make over the expenses.  The next year, 1852, my Father, uncle Birdsey, and uncle Andrus took a trip to old Connecticut, to visit their old home.  They went over the old hills, the old farm, the old house, which had not changed much since they left in 1822.  It was as natural as could be, the old rooms where they had spent their childhood and slept in some of these rooms and where they had so many happy hours.  My Father thought he would write about it in poetry, and bring it back to Ohio intending it as a present to brother Frederick, for he was fond of poetry, but on his return home learned that while they were having such a good time in Connecticut we poor Ohio folks were in great distress, for our dear brother took sick and after suffering a few days died; he had overworked, and brought on a rash, and on coming home from Bridgeport late at night while attending singing school, was in great distress, but after having a doctor was much better, and on the second night no one sat up with him, and in the night he heard a noise in the cellar, slipped out of bed going around the outside cellar stairway expecting to find someone after pork, but it was rats that had made the noise running over the pork barrel cover; in doing this he caught cold and the rash struck in, and the doctor could not bring it out again.  In less than three days he died, and Father away from home.  My Father had told us before he left home, that perhaps when he returned as far as Cleveland he would go on to Michigan, and attend to some land business there that he was purchasing for brother Frederick and myself.  When the day of the funeral came, we were looking for him home.  Cousin Phebe Lawrence came in and told my Mother that uncle Andrus and uncle Birdsey had come, then we knew it would two weeks before Father's return.  On Father's way home he heard that two of the Norton boys were dead, and when he reached Strongsville he learned that uncle Birdsey's eldest boy was not dead but one of his own boys had died.  When he arrived home he found it wash his pet boy and there was no Frederick to greet him.  We had laid him in a stone vault at Friendsville until Father came home, then he was buried in old Canaan Bends graveyard, but Father never completely got over the shock; this much I remember, it changed all of our plans and for months we could scarcely realize that Frederick was gone and we must get along without him and it was so very hard but the sun shone as usual, and in time we were made better.  Business pushed us on filling our thoughts more of those that were left.  Uncle Birdsey found om his return that his son Samuel had been very sick, but was better.  Aunt Emily, uncle Birdsey's wife, after a lingering sickness died, but Samuel got well though he did not fulfill his promise; while sick he told his Mother he would repent and would not be rough again, but in time forgot all, but we hope he will not forget what he promised his Mother.  After Frederick died, I took charge of the old homestead and had bought what was then called land warrants, from those that had served through the war of 1812, and were entitled to full pension of one hundred and sixty acres of government land on the market, and to those who were engaged in the war, for more than one year received eighty acres, and those that were in the war less than one year had received forty acres.  The prices of this land was all the way from $1.00 to $1.35 an acre, and the forty acre tract were the most valuable bringing almost full price.  I took charge of my Father's farm for two years, and before the end of the second year, took neuralgia, and for three years I did but little work.  In the mean time, there had been a windfall in Michigan where we had bought our land and much timber was going to waste.  In 1857 brother Mack proposed putting up a mill on this land.  He said if I would take charge of the mill he would help and do the hard work, so Father and I went to Cuyhoga Falls, contracted for engine boiler and full fixtures for an up right engine, that was then called a left hand mill, but before we got home the snow was all gone and Father had I had to leave the sled and go home horseback, every time I would pass Father on old Charlie, old Charlie would squeal and kick up his heels and nearly throw him off but we finally got home all right.  That same spring about the first of April, brother Mack and I went to Michigan.  I had fixed up a sulky to carry a trunk and a box containing jewelry and would peddle jewelry on my way to Michigan.  I will now say that while I had not been feeling well, I had become engaged in the jewelry business, first taking lessons of William H/ Hatch,, in Iowa, he giving me one half of all I could make; as Iowa was settling up very fast could sell goods well and would often be loaded down with silver and would have to get it into bills every night; I felt it rather hard on me, and left Hatch, but kept my jewelry box.  After resting a while thought I would try the business myself in Ohio, knowing the dealers well by reputation, found I could buy just as cheap as Mr.  Hatch, but I could not put in my full time, and as cousin Charles Norton offered me the same terns that Mr.  Hatch offered me, I let cousin Charles peddle on my license, so we both worked as one man, but cousin Charlie thought he would try it alone and did so for some time, then William Sponsler concluded that he would begin and try his luck on the same terms that Charles did, and eventually took in partnership Phillip Lamm, but it did not agree with him and after a few months he took sick and died.  His brother, John J.  Lamm, who was in California, after gold, came home and found things in bad shape.  Wadell Smith (his brother-in-law) and Philip both were dead.  That put am end to the jewelry business for sometime.  When brother Mack proposed going to Michigan, I was in hopes the change would do me good; after getting ready, a day or two before Easter, Mack and I started for Three Rivers, Michigan.  The first might I stayed at Three Rivers, while brother Mack walked out about three miles to Bart Reynolds and stayed all night.  In the morning he and Bart came after me and we all went to Newberg Township, Michigan, where we selected a place for the mill.  I soon left Michigan and went back to Ohio and with Betty, a bay mare with a large white spot on the left side who was a goad traveler we struck out for Michigan.  We passed through where uncle Aaron Lawrence, his son Quigley, and nephew Boyd Lawrence and I passed in 1850, but the black swamp was ditched and many good farms in the middle of the swamp, but the country around Bellview was greatly changed, and was much more like the rest of the country and not so noted for its bell shaped holes.  I arrived in Whitepigeon in June, passed through Constantine, and come to Newberg, and found them in great excitement fearing something wrong had happened me, for it was at a time a man was missing, and they had dragged the lake but could get no clue and many had thought I had met the same fate.  A few of our neighbors investigated the case, and found the man had disappeared, they thought intentionally, and we soon forgot all about it, but in a few years this man came home all right and said he had been kidnapped, and taken south, and sold into slavery.  His Master's name was Sampson but his yarn did not suit us.  He tried to be so good, he joined the church and nearly all the family were church members.  When the war broke out the two eldest sons enlisted and went to the war; one was reported killed in Chickamauga, the other killed at Stone River.  We attended both their funerals.  It was not long before the oldest came home, he being exchanged as prisoner of war, having been shot through the neck the bullet passed through near the neck bone and not touching any vital parts; he was also shot through the wrist, taking one bone away; he was supposed to be a dead man, but when the rebels went to bury their dead he was found still alive, and was removed and exchanged.  The other son was shot through the body, while crossing Stone River, but both recovered and came home after their funerals had been preached.  This was not the end of the mystery, for the same man left Michigan, and was gone for several years, came home again, and to this, day no one knows the particulars, but the confidence of the neighbors was lost.

    The time that Wadell Smith died, and nearly all of the Lamm family were ill, with typhoid fever, they were well taken care of, or more would have died.

    When brother Mack went to Newberg, Michigan, the mosquitoes would nearly eat us up, and we were also troubled with flees.  We first lived, in a house built by mistake on a piece of land owned by my Father (or entered by him).  When the man built this house, he thought it was on his own land, and found out after that he had entered a different piece of land.  He then said he would move as soon as he could build on his own land; the man's name was Seaton.  We took possession of this Seaton house, which was about one-half mile south of where we were building a mill.  The first thing we did was to put up a large log house about 28 by 32, two low stories high.  While building this house, we would get completely soaked passing through the wet bushes, going and coming to the old house.  That together with the mosquitoes, almost used brother Mack up, but we finally finished our house, and moved in.  In the meantime, made a log stable, cleared off ground, and commenced getting out timber for the saw mill.  We got most of the timber within a few rods of where we intended putting the mill.  The mill site was on quarter section line, on section two, and no road laid out.  After obtaining views of others, we thought best to lay out a public road running east and west along the site of the mill and running east to Three Rivers, which was about ten miles.  The main objection to this road was that there was already a road on section line, that had been partly worked, but through our efforts we obtained the road, though the ground was uneven and very sandy, many marshes to cross, but hard work and perseverance prevailed.  With an east and west outlet we began in earnest to build our mill.

    Mack and I were used to attending church and Sunday school, but there were none nearer than Poes Corners three and one-half miles southeast, which had only a few church members, who were real good, but nearly all of our neighbors, were skeptics or infidels, and Sundays were the days for hunting and carousing.  The first Sunday after we got settled at the mill, many of the neighbors thought best to get together and shoot at the mark.  It so disturbed brother Mack and I, we told them plainly we would not stand it and after thinking a while they all left, but agreed not to yield to the point, though they would do their best to bother us, yet only the old harden infidels attempted to check us, some came and made fun of us, but we found out there were still some conscientious ones, who took our part and for miles around good moral men stood up for us, and wanted us to get people together and have religious training, but Mack and I had never tried to take the lead, however, no others would volunteer and we finally undertook the task.  We secured a minister from Three Rivers to hold services now and then, and organize a class; as I was the oldest I was chosen leader; I think the class numbered about seven.  After this one of the old skeptics came to see Mack and I, but before he got there he heard a strange noise, and saw brother Mack on his knees and without going further turned about face and walked back home.  He said nothing but kept up a troubled thinking what an awful bad man he was, not only a stubborn being, but wanted others to be like himself.  It so wrought on his mind that he renounced infidelity and sought forgiveness and afterward became a noted man full of zeal, and many were encouraged to resist evil through his influence he exorted and preached funeral sermons, and done much good (so much for prayer) The class was organized about 1858 and was called the Newberg or Buckeye class, and soon after organizing Sunday school, and had week day prayer meeting and kept it up regardless of the infidels, who soon confined their efforts in trying to show that the good Lord was not concerned about them but would not in the least interfere; and in the end they would be given the gainer.  This world was all they wanted or desired, but we lived there long enough to see the end of many a poor infidel, not one of them died happy; some of them died suddenly, those things are facts in history which prove that those who try to make others happy, and never say to discourage Christians will in the end be with Christians.

    The country round where Mack and I lived, was a mixed soil, and was noted for its small lakes, marshes and rough hilly land.  The timber west of the mill was mostly beech, poplar, ash, and hard maple, also walnut.  The timber east of the mill was mostly oak, and was scattered called openings.  It was full of scrubs or small oak, and hickory grubs; all had to be grubbed out before it could be ploughed and put into crops.  It was more trouble to grub out brush and to chop and clean off the big timber; this land was full of plants that could be used for medicine; between the openings and heavy timbers could get vanilla, fever root, sweet cicily, calumba bark, wild turnip, sassafras, prickly ash, near where the windfall which happened in about 1853, the land was covered with blackberry bushes, where there were plenty of blackbushes, but reaching the bushes was a trouble and many a one would get badly torn and scratched picking berries.  After Mack and I got the mill in operation, we would give five cents a quart for berries, and then could not get enough.  We menfolks would often stop work to pick berries.  Maria,

    Mack's wife thought she would pick berries by herself but soon found she could not keep the point of compass and became lost, and not till nearly night did we miss her.  All went in search of her, and found her in the top of a big turned up tree.  She had lost her bonnet, torn her clothes, and, was expecting to stay there all night.  She had thrown away her bucket of blackberries, and that was the last of her going blackberrying.

    While brother Newton, and I were in Michigan, In 1855, Newton accompanied Sul Cook, and some neighbors, on a deer hunt.  Sul Cook exchanged his gun for Newton1s horse pistol.  They had stationed him, at a corner where they thought the deer they were hunting might pass, little thinking that he would be the one that would shoot the deer.  At first he was a little startled, but took aim and killed the deer.

    After getting out the timber for the mill, we failed to get a man to boss the frame work.  Mr.  Vanorman, the mill right, we had engaged to set the mill running, said he had never done any framing but thought he could do it, and sure enough he made no mistakes and when the frame was ready we wanted about forty men with pike poles, to raise the mill, but when the men came, they wanted us to furnish whiskey, or they would not help, so the first day nothing was done, but before they went home, we told them if they would come back the next day, and put up the mill, we would furnish good coffee and a good dinner.  If they did not want the mill bad enough to go without whiskey the mill would never be built.  On the next day many new hands came, and nearly all who had refused the day before, and all went off finely, and that was the last of whiskey at raisings.

    We had five yoke of oxen to haul the boiler from Three Rivers; it took one full day.  The boiler was twenty-two feet long, and about forty-two inches in diameter.  We bought a pair of trucks with broad tires, with log bunks.  We made quite a sensation as we passed through the country to Newberg.  Old Uncle Hibrey, said it was a big teakettle, it sure enough was heavy and many times would get caught on stumps.  We were obliged to pry it up to get it loose, and were glad to get to Buckeye, which we called our little home around the mill.  (This was called Buckeye City after many houses had been built because they were all from Ohio).  The neighbors were very good to us, and we were much in need of friends, for in Ohio we,were used to having everything handy, and plenty to eat, but in Michigan, we had to hire a cook, and some how she would make mistakes and wasted much provision.  After cooking for us about one year, brother Mack went back to Ohio, and married his second cousin.  She and her aunt, who was Mack's and my cousin, came to live with us, then it was much better, and there was less waste.

    In the spring of 1859, brother Newton came to live with us, and the same fall Father, Mother, and sister Eliza came.  Newton went back to Ohio in 1862, rented our Father's old farm, and married Libbie Lamm.  Before this, while Father and Mother were in Michigan uncle Andrus had rented the farm.  While Newton was with us, he bought a tract of land.  We opened up a sap bush (or sugar bush) on our own land, and Newton on his land, but we did not make much sugar.  At the time Newton was married, Father, Mother and sister Eliza, went back to Ohio, where they all lived together.

    Soon after this Newton went to war, and Father sold one hundred acres to Bowman, which contained the homestead, and after Father built on the other part of the farm, he sold that also to Mr.  McCracken, in 1868, and in the meantime Mack and I were in Michigan away from home comforts, among strangers, had to take things as they came, but in time we got used to it, though it was a wild life and too far from market--at least ten miles.  We were loosing much time going to town for repairs, Mack being a natural mechanic, could work with both wood and iron, we decided to put up a blacksmith shop, and after that he did our own work and many a little job for our neighbors.

    Uncle Enoch Bogart lived about one or two miles west of the mill; he with his three children living alone.  His wife left him and no one ever knew what became of her.  The oldest son, Cornelius did the cooking until the youngest girl, Kate grew to be old enough to cook; then she soon married and left the old man and the boys and after that the old man did not live long.  The boys Cornelius and Albert enlisted and after the war they both came back.  Cornelius married one of our neighbor girls and the last time I heard from them they were living near Bogart Lake.

    The mill northwest of us, which was a water mill, lost the water by the damn breaking, and left loads of fish high and dry.  After that they were not permitted to overflow so much good land, and was compelled to put in a small steam power to help saw, and also grind feed.

    The mill southwest of us caught fire and burned up and was replaced by a circular saw mill, using the same old boiler, but after a while it blew up sending the boiler through a pile of lumber, at the same time blowing out the end of boiler, shooting it north into a bank two or three feet deep; it happened to blow up while the men were turning down a large log and no one was hurt.

    In 1852, the rebellion war was at its zenith, and was getting more and more in earnest; Congress voted to raise fifty thousand more soldiers, and to do so would be compelled to resort to draft and to avoid draft many states voted to give bounty for volunteers some rich townships would give one thousand dollars for substitutes, and leave those that were unwilling to go have a chance to stay at home.  These places were soon filled by substitutes, hence some rather poor and thinly settled townships suffered by the draft.  It took every abled body man to the army, consequently many ran off to Canada, to avoid the draft, while many came over from Canada to enlist, thus getting regular army fees, beside the thousand dollars.  It was an exciting time, especially near the line between Canada and the U.S.

    In the meantime, Mack and I could not procure help to run the mill, but we did some sawing all the tine, Mack acting as head sawyer, I as engineer and together getting in logs, pile up lumber after it was sawed would saw about three thousand feet a day, thus supplying customers, but we knew the draft must come and both of us went to enlist, Mack was accepted, but I was rejected on account of my teeth I could not bite off cartridges.  Mack was to go in the navy and receive a bounty of eleven hundred, but when the final test came, Mack was rejected on account of a lame shoulder.  Not long after this he was drafted, and his shoulder made no difference for a drafted man, and then to go as a drafted man after all was too bad.  I told him to get a substitute and I would pay one-half; we found one for less than $1000, so Mack and I did all the work in the mill till the war closed.

    In the spring of 1861, uncle Corodon Norton and his family moved to Michigan and lived in the Seaton house where we first lived.  James Ryan had been living there, and was working for us, then had.  moved to Vandalia.  Uncle Corodon's children were all young, except Maria, who was nearly grown.  Uncle could chop very well, but at other work could do but little.

    In 1864, we had decided we would sell out the first chance as the timber was getting scarce, and if we sold we would go to Missouri, as slavery had been abolished.

    In the spring of 1865, Ed.  Smith, and Mr Laferty went over to the old Stewart mill site and also to the Franklin mill site, and then to see us.  He wanted to put in a portable sawmill and get out material to make pumps, and decided a stationery mill would be better than a portable mill.  Our mill yard was full of good logs, and the price not high he considered it a bargain, so we sold to him taking one thousand in pump notes, on our first payment, and we were to give immediate possession, but he wanted us to run the mill, until spring, giving us fair wages. 

    In the meantime, brother Newton having returned from the war, he and his wife came from Ohio, to work with us, until we had our spring sale.  I then tried to collect some of those pump notes, but found some would not pay and not having time to spare, we only received eight hundred out of the thousand.

    While collecting notes, I stopped to see Lois Fisher, uncle Andrus Norton's oldest daughter.  She was then living at Kenton, Ohio; her husband was a candidate' for the circuit clerk, but do not recollect whether he was elected or not, but one thing I could see, he was completely at the mercy of his party which was Democratic, as was his wife's folks, he was not opposed to the use of intoxicants.  At that time while I was traveling, I had a fine view of the country, but it was at the time that many had the milk sickness.  I stayed with a man one night who had lost over $1000.00 in stock; it was wonderful to see the piles of bones of the cattle which had died from milk sickness, and no one knew the cause of the disease, only they observed, when stock was kept tip and fed, not a single case occurred.  This man was not only a looser by milk sickness, but was an up-to-date spiritulist.  When he showed me my room, it was a little square room about 10 by 10 feet.  He said I must not be surprised if the spirits would make a fuss in the night.  I fastened the door and window, went to bed, and sure enough about 2 P.M.  I felt something1 in the bed, and for the life of me could not find the trouble but on examining found a mouse in the straw bed.  I thought if the mouse would let me alone I would the mouse.  In the morning I said nothing about it, but it cost me three hours sleep.

    Waugh Paugh Commetta is in the midst of the old dismal swamp, but since I have been there, the country is fine, all is interlined with lime stone, and is very productive, almost level but is well drained with deep ditches, and never suffers much from drouths.  After collecting notes I started for home, but could not decide what would be best to do with the money.  I had had some experience in carrying money, In 1851, uncle Jacob Miller sold his farm near Burbank, and received about one-half his pay down, and the other half, in one year.  Not having bank facilities, he told me, if I would come to Clinton County, Mich, where he had moved, and bring the $2OOO he would pay one-half my expenses, which would be about $20.00.  I wanted to see the country, and could do so for $10.00, so I put the money in a belt sewing in between the twenty dollar gold coins, and fastened the belt around my waist, which was all right, and now to put $800.00 in a belt and sew it so it would not bunch and fasten around my body, I thought would be all right, but to sleep well, I took off the belt and put it in the bed with me, and think it was about the second night, 1 took it off and next morning forgot the belt.  I did not miss it until nearly the next night.  I then turned back and about noon the next day, came to where I had stayed all night and found my money which they were going to advertise.  I paid them well for their trouble and again started for Michigan.

    This reminds me of an occasion that happened here in Missouri; about 1873 our house caught fire in the night, we had been celebrating my daughter Alida's, and my birthday, both coming on the same day, the 27, of April; we having had extra fires, and there being many trees around the house, the leaves had fallen on the roof; they were dry, and probably caught fire.  We were awaken about 2 A.M.  by our little dog, who was sleeping in the kitchen, and had gotten out some way, but we never knew exactly how, for all the doors were closed.  Before he awakened us, he had gone to my brother's house, one-half mile away and ran around the house three times yelping, coming back he, in some way un-be-known to us, either scratched the doors open or broke a window getting into the room where we were sleeping.  He jumped on the bed, licked me in the face, and I not being fully awake I pushed him down, but he jumped right up again, and my wife said, “Papa, the house is on fire." He had come to us and saved our live§, but we only saved a few things that were in the same room where we were, but the little dog was more precious than ever.  The fall after this, while getting out stone for the cellar of the barn, the stonemasons' name was Samuel Watts.  He was very found of this little dog; he and his wife, were going on a trip across the Ozark Mountains and they wished to take this dog along, for they would, only be gone for a few weeks, and they promised to bring him back.  After getting into the mountains, they let the little dog out of the wagon, and the dog seemed so pleased, they decided to leave him stay out a while, but the little fellow got after a rabbit, and lost the track, they still thinking he would catch up with them, the last night came and there was no dog.  They searched all day, and after spending three days hunting for the little darling, they gave up, and resumed their journey across the mountains, but they felt as though they had lost a true friend, and it spoiled their trip.  When they came back without the dog, it was hard for them to tell us, knowing that we would feel so sad, and blame them for loosing him,, so they purchased another dog, that looked something like him, but it had none of the winning traits of our precious dog.  Among the many good traits about him one was, we could hold him up., and show him stock, that we wanted him to drive, he would keep the course and was sure to find the stock, and he always expected an acknowledgment when he returned.  He would get on a chair, and while sitting up would go to sleep and then fall off, and then would jump back again and begin to nod, and falling off again, thus amusing the children.  We tried to feel satisfied with the other dog, but the real little dog was gone.

    In the spring when we had our sale in Michigan, we sold off whatever the mill folks did not wish to buy.  The day of the sale it was raining, and we had our sale in the barn.  It was well attended, and when we left, we felt as though we were going away from home.  Many seemed sad and so expressed themselves, but we had fulfilled our mission there.

    Perhaps it might be amiss to mention, a few incidents that happened while in Michigan.  Shortly after getting settled, and we had begun our church work, we were added to, or rather another small charge was added to us.  A young preacher was sent us, he came and stayed all night Saturday, and the next Sunday there was to be a big meeting at Cassapolis, the county seat of Cass County.  This young preacher wished to go, and said I must go with him; I think his name was Tracy.  After reaching the destination we were assigned to stay with a man by the name of Boyed, and in about one and one-half days, there was a boy there about fourteen years of age who ask his mother how long those strangers intended to stay; she told him to talk lower or we would hear him, he said he did not care if we did hear him; I-thought the boy was more than one-half right, for I had urged the young minister that we had better go home.  Then he saw the point.  To show his tendency of persistence, he afterwards went to one of our neighbors and insisted on having prayer.  The father told him that if he wished to have prayer he could go upstairs by himself and have all the prayer he wanted.  After this, we took care not to trouble anyone.  There was to be a camp meeting in Indiana, about thirty miles away.  Mack and I decided to go, not knowing anyone, we took feed for our horses and ourselves, and arrived on the camp ground about 5 P.  M.  we hitched our horsed and looked for a place to camp, took lunch and fed the horses, and then went to hear the preaching, and after services, went back to our camp, and about 11 P.M.  heard someone telling that they thought we were toughs and that they must arrest us.  After telling us their errand, said we could consider ourselves under arrest, and would have to go the preachers tent, and give an account of ourselves.  When we got there, we found out that we were acknowledged as the Norton brothers, Of Michigan.  Then they felt so cheap, that it almost broke up the camp meeting.  This happened all on account of us not making ourselves known.

    In 1865 John J.  Lamm made us a visit in Michigan, while there Mack and he went fishing at Bogart Lake and while fishing, Mack got a big bite and the fish pulled so hard on the line that it broke, and Mack fell backwards, into the lake, and if it were not for John J.  Lamm he might have drowned.  John J.  remembers it to this day.  Just after this, William Rogers, a brother of Mack's wife, spent the summer with us, built us a fine skiff, naming it Jeff Davis.  Mr.  Robinson, Mack and I, undertook to haul it to Skyhawk lake, on the 4th of July, and it took us until late in the afternoon to get there, and we were too tired to enjoy the boating, and I believe we never brought the boat back from Skyhawk Lake.  At another tine Mack and I were notified to view and aprize the damage to a road near Hikesville; we found the old road run on a curve and went near a widow woman's little house.  By cutting off corners and straightening the road it would save the public more than 25% but the poor widow would have to go at least two hundred feet to get out, but the public would be greatly benefitted so we changed the road to suit the majority.

    Some tine after this, we wanted a road leading south of the mill, but to make a good road would have to run along the side of the hill, thus saving steepness, but the owner of the hill would not consent to road, and forbid anyone to open it, but the public said “open the read”, and the supervisor was commanded by the trustees to open up the road.  We commenced felling trees, when the owner of the land, would stand by the trees that were in the way, and threaten anyone, with violence» if trees were felled.  We knew trouble would result, and so thought best to let the law decide.  In the meantime, the man that owned the land said he would trade the land, for another piece of land, and after drawing up papers, we all worked the road, but his wife refused to sign the papers, though we got the road.

    When we first went to Michigan, there was only one little railroad which ran into Three Rivers.  It had strap iron rails, that is,timber laid lengthwise of the ties.  On top of the timber a strap iron, four inches wide and three-fourths of an inch thick, nailed to the timber, and every few feet a cross tie to keep the timbers in place.1 The train could not travel fast.  Twenty miles-an hour was the extent of its average, or more often fifteen-miles an hour.  Soon this track became so bad, that they took off the engine, and laid planks lengthwise of the railroad and took horses or mules to haul the cars.  Then Jeremiah Gardner, bought the old tract, and by the help of the citizens extended the road north to Schoolkraft and to Kalamazoo, and then put on tea rails.  They then could easily make twenty miler per hour.  Then times seemed better, and a railroad was laid out through Centerville, the county seat of St.  Joseph county, then again there were better times, but the rebellion was not over, and they called for 5000 more men, and it looked as though surely something would happen.  It nearly paralyzed the country, and business nearly stopped.  Notwithstanding the war was going on the government was spending a million dollars a day and the rebels must be conquered or the government lost.  Then the south saw the government was in earnest.  After the capture of Richmond, the poor rebels saw the rebellion was in vain and yielded to General Brandt.  Peace soon followed, but Lincoln was killed, the one who had done so much to put down the rebellion, but like Moses, he was not permitted to enjoy the result of his labor.

    Now when talking of promoting railroad and getting them started, the first in my time was about 1853, when there were men soliciting for people to take stock in a railroad, giving stockholders free rides, cheaper transportations, then regular rates.  Many sold their farms or gave them to the railroad, and many a good farm was given them.  Among those given, was Dunmeyer who owned the Jacob Miller place, also Wilcocks living near Saville leaving but little for their families only railroad stock.  After this, the railroad changed hands, cutting out all the original stockholders; the same plan was experienced in Missouri.  They wanted a railroad running south from Sedalia called the Tibo & Newohio railroad, and Sedalia to be the head quarters, but people were a little suspicions, and did not rush in and take stock having had the Pacific railroad as a sample, and if it were not for a man owning property north of the Pacific railroad, it would have all fell through, but continual perseverance succeeded, and the road limit at that time was at Clinton, Mo.  Then the Missouri, Kansas & Gulf Railroad, which was laid out through Johnson county, they thought best to get control of the Tibo & Newoshio railroad, and would make Sedalia their head quarters, to they purchased the Tibo & Newoshio railroad.  At that time it was then called the Missouri, Kansas & Texas R. R.  They then continued the road north to the Missouri River, and but very few lost stock in the transfer.

    The timber in Michigan, west of the mill, was large walnut, poplin (whitewood as it was called in Mich.) Some of the trees were more than seven feet in diameter; that size was at a discount, but timber that was five feet was the best.  The big trees had to be split and cut into shingles and barrel staves. After we went to Michigan, Samuel Ward, an Ohio neighbor, living near Kalamazoo, wanted to sell us, a stave and shingle machine.  It would cut shingles and staves after steaming in hot water, but shingles cut was not as good as sawed shingles. After visiting Ward’s factory, thought we had better put in a corn mill instead of a stave mill, and twice a week we would grind corn or any grain not needing bolting, and that with a lath machine could work up all the timber, so nothing would go to waste, but the timber was getting scarce, and we only intended to saw up the down timber, and getting an offer for the mill, sold out and went to Missouri in 1865.

    When we went from Ohio to Michigan, we found a great change. Ohio having but few lakes though plenty of sink holes, the soil of a gravely loam, plenty of snail stones and Indian darts and flints, but in Mich. Were lakes, swamps with no soil, mostly sandy, though plenty of level clay land, but the change would be sudden, and many farms would be evenly divided between sand and clay, but no Stone quarries only nigger heads which were scattered all over the land in many places were so thick that we could scarcely get down to the soil and were obliged to pile them up before we could cultivate for crops; but like in Ohio, the prairies were good and soil from three to ten feet deep and were valued highly - $50.00 per acre without buildings and were all in the hands of the wealthy.

    Uncle Aaron Lawrence’s son, Quigley, and his nephew Boyd Lawrence and himself passed through White Pigeon and towns in Indiana, thirty miles south of where we located in Michigan, and there we saw the first steam boat coming from Three Rivers, loaded with potatoes, and we stopped, went down to the River St. Joseph as it passed. It was a small boat though a real steam boat. We had seen plenty of sail vessels but never a steam boat; and at this time the Southern Michigan Railway was not built through.

    When Mack and I went to Michigan, we took the dog, Bounce, with us. He came into my possession while I was on the trip with Uncle Aaron. Soon after leaving White Pigeon, one morning a man wanted us to shoot a strange dog which was following him, but I liked the looks of the dog and said that If Uncle was willing I would take the dog on trial and kill him later if necessary. We kept him in the wagon until about noon, when a man drove past and the dog tore loose and followed him. We thinking the man might be the owner, supposed he was gone for sure, but the man stopped at the edge of town and was feeding his team when we came in. He was willing to give up the dog and after that we kept him tied for two or three days, but the dog slept under the wagon and would not allow any one, man or beast to come close and in a few days we turned him loose, but he would not leave the wagon night or day and was a faithful and good animal and no coaxing or pleading would induce him to leave the wagon. While in Decatur, Ill., we wanted him to help hunt deer, no siree, he wouldn’t leave the wagon and no one but us could come near the wagon and after we reached home in Ohio, cousin thought they ought to have him part of the time; I let them do so but it most spoiled the dog. He was used to being out-of-doors, and to keep him from running to our house, they kept him in the house, and while there a neighbor having a tame bear, wanted cousin to let our dog fight the bear. I told him I thought the bear could not lick the dog. The bear wanted to fight and after a few rounds the dog kept snapping and springing so the bear could not bit him, and finally the bear climbed up a tree and gave up the fight. Soon after this there was gotten up a fox hunt and at least a thousand men gathered, and when they started out were about eighty yards apart and every hundred men had a captain and every captain had a dog and I had a good dog and was elected captain. All left their dogs on the ground until the ring was closed so that no fox could pass them. Then the dogs were let loose, but our dog was so restless we could not get him untied until all the others were loose and going. But when we got him loose, he soon outstripped the dogs and caught the fox first of all. Bounce and Uncle Aaron’s dog, Watch, ran right over the backs of the other dogs in order to reach the fox. I must tell how big a coward Bounce was at first and it took a long time to get him away from home, and then every little fiest would drive him clear home. For about six months, he would not leave home and finally after being cornered by two dogs much bigger than himself in a fence corner, could not get away so he was compelled to fight; and he soon whipped the other two dogs – then he found out his fighting ability. I think he must have been part gray wolf, for his teeth were long and sharp and would snap all the time, leaving no time for the other dog to catch “holt” and would never get a scratch himself; when he bit his teeth met and it was death to the other dog. Bounce was never known to start a fight – he left that for the other dog. We paid the baggage master $8.50 to get the dog to Michigan and when there we were greatly troubled with hedgehogs (porcupine) and the old dog would not leave these alone, but often getting his mouth full of quills would let Mack or myself with bullet molds pull out the quills. One time father took the horse and spring wagon to Constantine, eighteen miles from home and in returning the wagon gave out and father had to leave the wagon and come home on horse back, forgetting the old dog who took charge of the wagon and would not let man or beast come near, and stayed there three or four days without food or water. Father had not thought anything about the dog being along and he was not missed until mother inquired where he was, saying he had not been around for anything to eat for several days. Then it occurred to father that perhaps the dog had been with him and knowing his disposition, thought he might be with the wagon and accordingly father went and relieved him of his burden, and a more pleased animal never lived. During this time neighbors endeavored to feed him but could not get near him.

    Referring to an instance in Ohio, will tell how Bounce acted on an occasion when mother took several hams from the smoke house and was fixing them in the yard, preparatory to putting them away for the summer and accidentally dropped one in the grass. The next morning father getting up early, inquired of mother what Bounce was guarding out in the wet grass because he would not let him come near.  Laughingly mother surmised it must have been one of her hams.  The dog was very pleased to have her come and relieve him for he had watched the ham without touching it all night and would not let anybody else come near it but mother.  In Michigan Bounce would hunt days for hedgehogs which could he readily found by the chips, as they wintered in the beech tree tops and lived on beech bark. It was this enmity for these porcupines which eventually resulted in his death. The quills probably perforated his brain, threw him into convulsions from which he died and we buried him west of the old mill.

    When Mack and I went to Michigan, the squirrels, gray and black and fox, were plentiful. We being too busy to hunt, would show Bounce the squirrel and he would be sure to chase it up a tree where it could be shot and Bounce invariably caught it before it fell to the ground. One time a woodchuck or groundhog came in the school-house in time of school and made off again no one bothering him.

    The fall of 1859, Hettie Joss taught school in our neighborhood and at the end of school term had a public exhibition and for nearly two weeks brothers Mack, Newt, Tom Carlyle, Eliza and many others made ready for the exhibition.  We sawed a door through the logs for an addition to the building, a dressing room, in which those taking part could dress. This proved such a success that, not being satisfied with one night, voted to meet again the next night, but requested none to come who had already witnessed the exhibition. The next night found that not only those who had witnessed the same, but small and great wanted to come, even from ten miles away, as far as Three Rivers, so we made a scaffold clear around the room over-head for the children, and it being a warm night, the windows were taken out and wagons drawn up so that many could see the show from the wagons through the windows. The room soon filled and many could not get in. For many years the  exhibition at the old school house was worth talking about and to this day, I think Hettie Joss make a complete success, for she put life into it all.

    About 1840, in Ohio, after helping Grandma Norton pick geese some of us boys stayed all night and slept in the barn on the hay mow. About mid-night we heard a cackling among the hens. One commenced squalling and down tumbled the hen. We boys thinking someone was trying to scare us, kept still, but in the morning found a fine hen gone and feathers scattered around, telling us that an opossum had caught a hen. It had wrapped its tail around the hen’s neck and both together fell off the roost, the opossum taking the hen outside to eat it. We boys had let it escape.

    Sometime after this, we boys planted a water melon patch and  brother, Frederick, and I kept watch at night. One night about 10 P.M. Heard a lot of boys coming into the patch. They began pulling up melon vines then Frederick and I rushed in on them and took them by surprise, but we told them not to feel badly about it, we would help them get a fine lot of melons. Then we made a fire and roasted corn and finally went coon hunting. That was the end of stealing melons of us, but it was not so with Neri Hosford, a few years before. He was like Frederick and I watching a patch,and about 10 P. M. heard a cow bell in the corn field. He commenced running as he supposed after cows, and soon there were more cows.  After trying to drive the cows out, the boys slipped around in the patch and nearly ruined it, but Hosford kept it still till some of the boys thought it too good to keep and let it out. Hosford sued everyone of them and got well paid for his melons. Before this while Hosford was living in Connecticut, he ran a peddling wagon and peddled Yankee notions, he slept in this wagon. The boys slipped up to the wagon closed the door, and ran the wagon into a pond, put in the key and fastened Hosford in his own wagon; not until the next day, did the neighbors learn of his bad luck.  In the meantime the boys had stacked his vines and he never found out who they were. Before John Hosford came from Connecticut to Ohio, he also peddled Yankee notions and dry goods. He had a pet bear and monkey for an attraction. In the winter time he kept this bear in Grandfather’s barn. He slept all the time but when disturbed would growl.

    This reminds me of an occasion when mother and her brother Jonathan Miller and her father went in the spring to gather cranberries.  Grandfather said that he knew where there was a bear tree and thought they had better go to the bear tree and see if the bear  had come out. They looked at the bark of the tree and saw where the bear had climbed up but no signs of having come down. He also looked at the skunk cabbage, as they always locate their winter quarters where skunk cabbage grows, that being the first thing they eat when they come out; but as yet it had not been touched. Mother was only five years old at this time. She climbed up a small beech tree that was near by. They chopped and felled a small tree against the big bear tree. Uncle climbed up to the hollow in the tree and could see two eyes shining. He took good aim between the eyes and immediately a small bear ran out. They clubbed it down and it was soon killed by the dogs. Uncle, not certain his aim was sure, fired again and out came another bear, but would not go out on the limbs; he stopped half-way down on the trunk of the tree. Grandfather shot off one of its claws. The bear fell down and Uncle let himself down into the hollow tree and threw the bear out. Mother was very frightened, expecting all the time the old bear would make trouble. It was a large and heavy bear, although Uncle was a large man, it was no small undertaking to lift the bear out. They did not continue their hunting for cranberries. They had expected to gather the cranberries on top of the ice.

    When my father first came to Ohio, he was passing through the  woods and stepping over a big log, a young fawn followed him and kept up with him all the way home.  It is the habit of deer to hide their young beside logs and these little creatures will follow the first thing that comes their way. They made a great pet of this deer and it grew up, but did not become as much attached to folks as it did to the dogs. He would follow the dogs wherever they went like a pet lamb, and if anything happened, if the dogs got to chasing anything, it became frightened and would run home. They would open the door and it would drop right behind it.

    About 1840, my father gave us boys a pet lamb. We put it in  the wood shed with a large bull dog and the lamb became so attached to the dog that it would follow him everywhere, and when we called the dog, the lamb would become frightened; while the dog would run around us boys, the lamb would strike us square in the back. After knocking us down a few times, the lamb would get completely tired out.

    In about 1836, we had a heavy snow which fell to about two  feet, smashing down roofs of log barns and houses, especially those roofs which were fastened with ridge poles. This happened April 4 on my brother Clinton’s birthday and for some time the hogs could not get beechnuts. The hogs would run to the woods in search of beechnuts for their food.  This reminds me of when we first went to Michigan, the people there marked their hogs with slits in their ears, and turned them loose in the woods where they would fatten on beechnuts and acorns. The beechnuts were so plentiful in the woods that when we killed our hogs, the meat was very soft but nice flavored. The lard was like oil and was as clear as water and in the coldest weather would not become hard. It made nice oil for us in the mill and would run even in zero weather.

    In the fall 1859, sister Eliza and I were returning home from Three Rivers, it being almost night before we reached the timber,  then we noticed smoke in the direction of our home, making us fear that our mill might be burning. However, before we were half way-home, we discovered that it was the woods on fire, and old Mr. Fundy's farm was on fire. In order to go home, we were obliged to pass through this fire. Eliza was badly frightened and wished to turn back, but I said no; the wind was blowing in our direction and the fire would quickly overtake us, and I knew it would be better to keep on and meet it. We could see that in the tracks of the road there was nothing burning, except the leaves as they blew across, because the ground was covered with dry leaves. There was considerable danger from falling branches. We had to take our chances and were soon met by the fire, the sparks blowing for a quarter of a mile or more, I told Eliza to watch and if any sparks dropped on us, brush them off. Old Bounce, our dog, was with us and took his place between the horses under the wagon tongue; the horses trotted through showing no signs of fear. The tree tops were all ablaze; we were only a few minutes passing through the first gust of the fire after which the ground was all seared black, and the partly burned leaves gave off a dreadful stench. All along it was as light as day, because most of the girdlings continued to burn and their falling branches made great fire-brands. Here and there, a great hollow tree was burning on the inside and the blaze shot up like through the flue of a furnace, for there was usually a hollow at the bottom of such trees which caused a draft. It was a thrilling experience for Eliza who had been in Michigan for only a few days.  The fire was started by a man burning brush.  Mr. Fundy stated that he was ruined as one-half of his timber was killed, and he sued the man who started the fire but was unable to secure damages.

    The year 1844, a neighbor killed a dog and took the scalp and received bounty for a wolf. The neighbors found it out and compelled him to pay back the bounty. There had been an animal in the alder swamp, now near Lodi, and many spent nights hunting it, but it would not come to the ground, but would run on top of the alder bushes. After chasing it all night, they had to give it up. Some thought it was a panther, others a lynx, anyway it was an exciting time. We [were] full of excitement even in church matters.

    About 1847, there was a fine turkey snow. I being fond of hunting, soon found turkey tracks running from the corn field. I followed them to Killbuck Bottoms, and after a while found I was lost.  I started for home but after a long time came to a stream which I remembered having seen before. I took a different direction and after a long time, came back to the same place which made me feel strange indeed. Then I started out in a different way, trying to go straight, but after a long tins, found myself in the same place again; then I was sure I was lost and sat down to study a way to get out for it was nearly night. It occurred to me to examine my tracks and I found my shoes exactly fitted in to them in the snow. I then resolved to take the back track, all tracks were visible enough, and soon reached my first track and shortly was out of the woods.

    It was about the month of June when Aunt Mertilla came to our house and wanted me to go to camp meeting with her. Mother said that if I could find and kill a wild turkey, I might go. So off I started and after about two hours brought home a fine gobbler which I left at the wood pile, and went in to tell mother that I had the turkey sure enough. Mother went out to see the turkey and found Granny Miller picking it and had it nearly done. Mother thought that it ought to have been scalded first, but Granny was an old hand at dressing turkeys, and it was finished in a short time; so I went with Aunt to camp meeting, but mother told Aunt to be careful for I was not feeling well. Aunt said that she never had heard of anyone getting sick at camp meeting. While at camp meeting, we had a big time, over five thousand people were there and this was the time of my conversion. During the second week a crowd of roughs attempted to break up the meeting. A man named Haynes was arrested, but not till a complete turmoil occurred in which the jam was so great that many could not touch the ground - in fact, it was a regular mob sure enough. The roughs broke up the camp meeting and in the morning all left for home, but soon Haynes and the roughs came back with a larger crowd to find the camp meeting dispersed. A year or so after this, during a protracted meeting, the roughs undertook to break up the meeting, but members took the leaders before a Justice of Peace and fined him. It was in court for some time, and taking all these things together, we found it best to hold meetings in a church. This resulted in the building of the old Canaan Bend Church.

    In 1857, a family by the name of Clippenger, living on Daniel Smith's farm, took sick with what was called winter fever, and three of the family died - namely, John, George, and Mary, which made them so discouraged that they wanted to get away, and persuaded father to let them build on the southwest corner of his land, agreeing to clear off six or eight acres, build a log house and barn, and there work at his trade which was shoemaking. When the house was up, Clippenger and his two boys took a small handcart and moved over from Smith's, leaving the old house empty. This house was north of the road and was opposite Grandfather Miller's farm, south of the road. It was believed this fever was contagions so no one would live in the house and it was empty for many years.  At this time the new house was built and there was no road laid out past it, but there was road going east from Lamm's and Daniel Smith's corners. Soon after this Bridgeport was laid out and a road was built westward to Bridgeport. Henry Zoover bought thirty acres of land from John Kerns, with the intention of putting up a saw mill, building a dam where the banks of Spring Run came near together. Soon thereafter he erected a mill, dammed up the stream thereby backing up the stream, causing it to overflow fifteen or twenty acres, but not until he had built two or three dams, could he build one strong enough not to give way. Since father owned the land north of the mill, he would have his fences swept away and meadows and crops badly damaged. We boys would have to sharpen our scythes every few rods for the grass was covered with sand, but he finally made a larger overjet to take off the surplus water. The mill was of the old sash saw (or frame saw) sometimes called gate saw pattern. This saw was strong, tight in frame, the saw being thin not one-half as thick as a muley saw. This frame was put in grooves and the groove kept well oiled or in some cases a meat rind inserted to keep it from heating the pitman which was attached to the water wheel, and the momentum caused by the rapid currents running under the wheel therefore, it would require strength to move the gate to let the water on, and many a time we boys would help in the mill, and sometimes the gate would become choked and the saw cut havoc to the tail block, taking all the teeth out of the saw, and not until after he put in an intaking wheel which was turned by flowing the water through the wheel and taking much less water, the spray was less not requiring the strength of the flutter wheel, and the back water not troublesome; but the neighbors liked the first best for the purpose of washing sheep, and we boys had fine times washing sheep under the old mill. One thing that I remember, was that Uncle Henry Zoover was a tobacco chewer and one day he attempted to spit and it flew all over my face. Uncle declared that he would never chew tobacco again and I am sure that he never did. He often said that he was so disgusted with himself that he had no inclination to chew again.   Uncle Henry ran the mill for years, but when Bridgeport was started, sold to Captain Drake who was a blacksmith, and what Captain Drake could not make, no blacksmith could. He made the first pair of smith skates I ever had and no one liked skating better than I. The old Killbuck would often freeze over and here we boys could skate from home to Bridgeport, two and a half miles, and back at night and would become so hot and thirsty that we would get down on our hands and knees and drink river water, and many a time would not get home until after midnight. Captain Drake was a very friendly man and we enjoyed his trainings greatly, and not till a few mimic trainings had taken place did they abandon training and the first mimic training was held in Wooster. About 1849, there was to be a general training in Wooster and after the training the men trained the boys, and such a motley set of men you never saw before. They used old scythes for swords and old drums and elder stalks for guns, and parade Main Street where the mud was terrible. They celled their captains Thunderbus and Hardscrsbble, and after that no one could get rid of working on the road by joining the militia, and our roads were leading the work.

    Drake sold out to his brother-in-law, Emerson, who was an inventor and a saw maker also a maker of harness. He invented a whirlpool churn, and by turning a crank the churn dasher or lever turned rapidly, setting everything in a whirl; if everything was right it would cause the butter to come in a few minutes.  Often the cream was not in proper shape and the rapid motion only made it worse, and then it proved a failure; but the harness business was all right though not enough custom to bring much money. He sold out to Alf Cook and Jeff Hosselton. The men who on account of marriage lived in one family - Alf having Jeff's sister - both were Universal1sts of the strongest kind and would not speak well of any who tried to keep the Sabbath. They were like Mrs. Steel who married a widower who was a faithful Methodist until his first wife died, when he married a woman who was a strong Universalist, too strong for Steel and he left the Methodist Church and joined the Universalists and when on his death bed when asked how about the future, confessed his misdeeds, whereupon Mrs. Steel told him plainly to stop whimpering and die like a man. Then he shut up. These two men never let an opportunity pass but would always say and do something to worry the Sabbath keeper. They would invariably file their saw about the time churchgoing people were passing end such a terrible screeching no one ever heard. They would file their saw on Sundays anyway. One time a great fire broke out and no one could compare to Cook and Hosselton in falling trees to stop the spread of the fire. They sold their mill to James Ryan and he persuaded father to clear up a maple grove which had been used for years for making sugar. He would turn bed and chairs out of the wood, giving father half.  Father soon had garret, barn and all spare places filled with bed and chair stuff, and lots of this stuff remained there at the time father sold out.

    The Clippengers who lived on the southwest of father's land never did much clearing thereon. After about ten years, the neighbors complained to father their cows were being milked and finally the old man was caught in the act of milking a neighbor's cows because all stock was allowed to run in the road. As father had an old house which was not on the road, they were moved there and soon after this Alvin Cook paid attentions to Clippenger's daughter, but the Cook family did not think it proper for Cook, an old man, to marry Miss Clipper-inger, a girl of seventeen. When the girl visited the old man they sat her astride a rail but did not hurt her - yet she finally married the old man.  Soon after this the old man sold his farm and took the Clippengers and moved to near White Pigeon, Michigan.  The last we saw of any of them was during the time of the war of the Rebellion when David Clippenger called at our mill on his way to the war.

    Uncle Henry Zoover kept store in Bridgeport and I think that he was the first store-keeper in Bridgeport. The wagon road east of Bridgeport passed through an ancient fort, supposed to have been built for a protection against an enemy.  It was built a few yards from the rapids in the Killbuck flats.  It had an opening in a corner facing the Killbuck and it covered over two acres of ground and was built in a circular shape, had a bank inside the circle as if to protect those there from outside attack. The ditch was still visible,although there were large forest trees growing in the ditch, and another bank showing that it must be very ancient. It looked as if they must have had something in the shape of artillery engines to throw destruction into the enemy's camp - hence the ditch and bank.

    On father's place there was a mound on top of sand hill end in this mound there were three openings as though at least three persons had been buried there; and when father first came there the trees were on the top as well as sides, indicating antiquity. We examined them and found in them bones, clay cups, darts, arrow heads which indicated the belief in the future Hunting Grounds, when the dead were to rise again and enjoy hunting and would need nourishment while in their sleep; this is the common theory even now which is a positive fact that there is a belief in the future outside of the bible.  These relics only confirmed the truth of the Book of Books - namely the bible. On the top of a high knoll on the Lawrence farm was another mound which was like that on father's place and was an ancient burying ground, having the same three spots or openings and in those spots were found bones, brass, clay pipes and vessels to hold food so the sleepers could get some nourishment before entering into the new Hunting Ground. In Ohio, it seems, there are more darts, stone axes and skinning knives than in other states, and they were so thick that the old flintlock guns were easily supplied. On the ground spoken of, east of Bridgeport, General Bell passed through crossing the Killbuck near the old fort. I think they felled trees and made a bridge across the creek there, for the crossing was kept up and the road traveled long after the war of 1812, and even when we left Ohio the military road was kept up and only straightened. T think about 1815 they had a big scare in Wooster, It was reported that the British and the Indians were to capture Wooster, and everyone was scared and slept in the woods or in the fort which was hard on women and children, but no one was molested and it soon passed off.  The most remarkable event happened in about 1848 when the Millerite Doctrine first started.  Miller said the world would come to an end and told the exact time and many believed it and had their ascension robes ready. On the morning of the day they were up early having warned the people but no end came, and after waiting until nearly sundown, concluded they had made a slight mistake; but it surely would come at a latter period.  Many left when they failed in the first attempt and even now think the time is near and they have plenty of bible truth, but with our book, the Word of the Savior, for he said no one but God alone knew the time, not even the Saviour himself know not. Many a family became divided and some husbands leaving their wives and some wives leaving their husbands and many becoming deranged, but one good came of it, the people read the bible more and it is hard to tell which did the most good; but now after our fifty years of experience, one can come very near the right conclusion - it is none of our business - leave it to the good Lord and that the end of our time will soon come and when it does come, we should be ready.

    In about 1836 there was a peculiar meteor came over our house. It made such a blue light and was about the size of a fanning mill. It came over from the west and went east over the tops of the trees. When mother and father came home they had not heard of it and had some doubts of us boys seeing it, but all the same we were sure it passed us and left a lasting impression on our minds which time will never erase; to this day, though over thirty years have passed, I recollect the peculiar sparkle and the fizzing sound - one cannot forget.

    In Missouri in 1877, another meteor passed over our heads traveling almost in the same direction, only going northeast, making the same sizzing noise, and had a chain of red hot links passing endways through it (this was a trail of sparks), and after its disappearance, a sound like a cannon was heard in the direction t