Campaign of General St. Clair-His Disastrous Defeat-Savage Exultation-The Appointment of Gen.Wayne-Indian Confederacy
We will now recur to the narrative of Mr. Alder who was present at a part of those engagements (a more determined effort by the white's commanded by Gen. Anthony Wayne, after the battles commanded by Gen. Harmar, Col. Hardin, and Gen. St. Clair. In those battles the Indians were victorious.), and gives a very full history of the movements of the red man. He says: "I gathered up all my effects that I had not sold and started for the Mack-a-Chack towns. I soon found that there would be a conflict between the whites and Indians. The Indians had been so successful against St. Clair that they were very sanguine of success. They talked as though it would be an easy victory but it turned out very different. General Wayne was not to be caught in any of the traps set for him. Little Turtle and one other chief were for making a treaty of peace, but they were a long ways in the minority, and consequently they were over ruled. Preparations now began in earnest for the conflict. The Indians never insisted on my taking up arms against the whites, but left it for me to decide, and consequently I never was in a battle, except a short time in the first conflict of the great campaign. They had flattered me that it was going to be a very easy victory, and that Wayne was rich in everything that Indians desired; horses, blankets, and clothing of all kinds, together with guns and ammunition in abundance. They told me that if I did not wish to fight I need not do so. I studied it over some time, and thought I might as well have some of the good things he had as anyone, and when the army got ready to move I went along. Gen. Wayne had been gradually moving down upon us, but very slowly and cautiously. There was not a night, after he got within one hundred miles of us that an Indian spy was not within his picket lines. They said, when he was on the march he fortified every evening so securely that it was next to impossible to get a horse out of his camp. Our runners and spies reported every day they said that at night Wayne would cut down great trees and fence in a tract of land large enough to hold his entire army and baggage, and that these fences were built so high with these great trees and tops, that none could get at him and but few could get out. But when they got to Fort Recovery, which they thought a safe place, they relaxed some of the caution used in traveling. Blue Jacket was Chief and Commander of the Shawnee force. He moved upon Gen. Wayne's position when he got within two or three miles of us, and the first thing I heard of any battle was the whites calling out, 'Indians! Indians!' We had come suddenly on about two hundred of Wayne's Light Horse. The Indians, on horseback, made a rush for them, and they on foot, ran as fast as they could. The Indians pressed the whites so closely that over fifty jumped off their horses and got into the fort as fast as they could, leaving their horses to run around outside. These horses were finely equipped with bridles, saddles and a brace of pistols. The fort was soon surrounded, and a regular fire kept upon both sides for an hour or so. As these fine horses were running around loose, I thought it was my chance to get one already equipped, if I could only catch it. I got within two hundred yards of the fort, behind a tree. The horses were running in every direction, very much frightened. Several times they passed close to me, almost near enough for me to reach their bridles. But whenever I moved towards them they would be off as fast as they could run. I saw Indians running, half-bent, within fifty yards of the fort, after the horses, then they would take a circle around and back.
"An Indian that stood behind a tree close to me, asked why I did not shoot, he loading and shooting as fast as he could. I told him I saw nothing to shoot at. He said, 'shoot at them holes in the fort, and perhaps you will kill a man.' I told him I did not want to shoot, and he replied that, 'I had better get out of there then, for if I did not, I would be killed. Did you not see the bark fly above your head a few minutes ago?' said he. I replied that I did, 'Well,' said he, 'Just fall back out of reach if you will not shoot, or you will get killed.' All at once, as he passed his head around the tree to shoot, I saw him drop his gun and clap his hand to his chin, and then stoop and pick up the gun with the other hand, and start and run, half bent, back as far as I could see him. They had shot him in the chin and made a flesh wound. I stood where I was a short time, looking around to see if anyone was near me. Just then I heard what I supposed to be a cannon fire behind me, but as I after wards learned, it was only a shell which burst. I now began to feel very badly frightened, and supposed we were surrounded. While I was thinking what to do, a cannon (mortar) fired in the fort and a shell burst right over my head. The horses fell all around me; and then it was that I understood the cause of the report behind me. I started and ran back to the crowd. They held a council and concluded to give it up, as they were unable to take the fort by storm, but would try and take it by surprise. After night we moved off down the river, about a mile and camped. In meandering about to find some of my companions, I found one of Wayne's pack horses. I haltered it, and concluded I had a horse, anyway. We built our fires and lay down. There were about five hundred Indians at the time all lying in a circle.
"About midnight, I was awakened by the firing of guns. The firing was so rapid that I could not tell one report from another. I arose and looked around, but could see but five or six Indians in the circle where I had lain. They had all gone to try to take the fort by surprise, as they hoped. In about one hour the firing began slacking off a little so that I could tell one gun from another, and in about an hour more, the Indians began to come in. The firing finally stopped altogether; and I listened to their talk as they came in. I learned that they had accomplished nothing; but a good many had been killed and wounded. The next morning the old Chief -(Blue Jacket) who lay in the same circle with me, got up early; and called for our attention. He said that, 'They were out last night to try to take the fort by surprise, but were not successful and that they had left one of the men of our circle lying close to the fort unattended, and that he must be brought away.' He said, 'It would be an everlasting shame to the nation to let the man lie there and be murdered, as he surely would be by the whites. As they had abandoned the idea of whipping Wayne in the fort, all we could do was to wait and let Wayne come out and make an attack on us on the open ground.' He then said: 'That someone who knew where our wounded brother lies, would have to go, with others, and bring him off the field.' Big Turtle said he would go for one, as he knew exactly where the wounded man fell, so that there would be no need of wasting time hunting for him. 'Who will be next?' said the Chief. 'No one spoke, and the Chief looked right at me and said: 'Young man you will go for another - and you! and you for another,' said he pointing to two more. He then said: 'None of you were out last night in the fight so men go and bring your comrade away. The brush and small trees were all cut off for two hundred yards around. As soon as we got in sight of the fort, the whites commenced firing at us. We ran along in single file, one behind the other stopping at every tree that was in our line large enough to shelter us. Here we would stop but a moment, and then run again. The bullets were flying like hail around us all the time. We had stopped behind a large tree near to the open ground, when Big Turtle said: 'We were doing very wrong in stopping as it gave them time to reload. Now!' said he 'when we start again; I shall not stop until I have gotten to the man, and in order that there be no confusion in taking hold of him, we will go out in the same way we came in; that is - I will lead going out. The one that is before; going in, and the one behind going out is in the most danger. We will arrange it systematically, and thus escape some of them bullets.' When we started there was a perfect shower of bullets flying around us. But we ran for the man, dodging from side to side. In this manner we ran, and it seemed to me, right up to the fort, for the man did not lay more than sixty yards from it. As soon as we came to him, we took hold according to instructions, and in no very tender manner either, but just seized him, as best we could, and started to run, dodging about, just as we had come in. When we picked him up his shirt was a little up and I saw that he was shot in the bowels and it had turned green around the bullet hole. I thought how foolish it was for four live men to risk their lives for one dead one. But we had little time to think of such matters, for as we picked him up it appeared to me that the air was full of whistling balls, on either side and above us. How men could pass through such a storm and come out safe has always been a mystery to me, and now after many years I almost shudder to think of that terrible ordeal. Big Turtle was the only one touched with a bullet. One had grazed him in the thigh and there were four or five bullet holes in his hunting shirt, which was swinging loosely about limbs. The wounded man groaned mournfully as we ran with him, but we had no time to spare for his comfort. When we got to the wood, and when the firing ceased, we laid the wounded man down, to rest ourselves. Thanks, devout and sincere, went up to the Great Spirit for our safe deliverance from the great danger through which we had passed. We carried the half dead man to the Indian army, which was already on the move. When we got back, a litter was prepared and the poor fellow hoisted to the shoulders of four men. Before I started on this perilous trip I lashed my blanket and kettle on my horse and they let him stray off. There being no time to hunt, I lost blanket, kettle and horse! We moved down the river, and about noon the wounded man died. He was taken to a fallen tree, the leaves were scratched away and he was buried scarcely deep enough to cover his body. We then went on down to Fort Defiance, where we remained about two weeks, until we heard of the approach of General Wayne, for he was closely watched. We now picked up everything and started for the old English Fort, at the Maumee Rapids. Here we prepared for battle at the lower end of the long prairie."
(The story contains one more chapter, "Number XIV," which has the heading, "General Wayne Advances -Defeat of the Confederate Tribes at Fallen Timbers - The Treaty at Greenville - The Death of General Wayne." The chapter deals entirely with accounts of Wayne's expedition, the defeat of Indians and the treaty of peace. No part of the chapter gives any account of incidents in Jonathan Alder's life although in part it is quoting Alder's account of the battles. And since it's interest was primarily the history of the Shawnees it fails to present the interesting tale of Jonathan's Indian marriage and separation, his acceptance of white man's ways, his return to his mother, his marriage to Mary Blont, his return to Ohio. We break into the story in the middle of a paragraph dealing with the conclusion of hostilities):
"A treaty was now held with Wayne and his staff and the different chiefs and in that treaty arrangements were made for all the white prisoners that the Indians had taken when boys and were still with them should have a reservation of land to themselves separate from the Indian reservation and all that attended that treaty and gave in their names got reservations. I was notified of the arrangement but was taken so young that I had no knowledge of land titles whatever and so did not attend the treaty, my name was not taken down, and so I failed to get my portion of land which was about one mile square. I made two attempts afterwards to obtain my amount of land through Congress, the last time by Sampson Mason of Springfield, but each time happened to be the year of the Presidential election and local matters like that were thrown aside. I received a letter from Sampson Mason while at Washington and he said that he had shown the matter to several of the members and they all spoke favorably but that the Presidential election was so close that there could be nothing done then; that if it was brought up the next winter he thought there was no doubt that I would get all my land with interest. Mason's time expired that term and another man was sent in his place and so the matter dropped but I still claim that the land is due to me from the government.
"Arrangements were all now made for a final and great treaty which took place the next year. As soon as that treaty was confirmed and made I concluded my arrangements with Barshaw and we were finally married according to the Indian custom and we immediately began to prepare and arrange our business to move to Darby as this was the greatest and best hunting ground of the whole Indian territory. So we got us a brood mare apiece and packed our goods and safely landed on Big Darby or Crawfish Creeks as it was then called, a little below where Pleasant Valley now is. There we commenced life in good earnest. Our cabin was built on what is known as the Jeremiah Doming farm exactly where he built his house afterwards there being a spring. It was now but a short time after peace till the white people began to make their appearance among us. I think the first white men that I saw were two that were lost. It was the better part of the first winter that we were here. I had been out hunting on the east side of Darby and as I was coming in late in the evening I struck the trail of the two white men. They wore shoes and I knew they were not Indians. I followed their trail some distance and soon discovered that they were lost by the way they wandered. It being then dusk I left the trail and went into my camp and told my woman that there were two white men a little back in the woods, lost. She remarked that I should have brought them in. I told her it was late and I did not see them but I would go out early in the morning and bring them in. So I started as soon as it was light in the morning and struck their trail and soon overtook them. When they saw me coming towards them they took down their guns and cocked them. I walked on up within a few rods of them. I saw that they were very much scared. I sat my gun down by the side of a tree and then walked on and held out my hand. They both shook hands with me but they could nary one of them talk Indian nor could I speak a word of English. They made signs that they wanted to go north and spoke the word 'Sandusky.' Then I spoke the word 'Sandusky' and made signs to them that the trail was on the other side of the creek. They then made signs that they wanted something to eat and I made signs that I had plenty of bucks at the camp so I took them in with me to the camp and told my woman to put on some venison to boil. She did so and it had not boiled but a few minutes till one of them went to take some out of the kettle and I stopped him. They then talked a little together and one took out his knife and cut two slices off a raccoon that was hanging there and stuck it on a stick and stuck it before the fire. I stepped up and pulled out the sticks and threw them away. They then turned very red in the face and talked a little together and picked up their guns and was for leaving. I caught their guns and made them sit them down again and then made signs for them to sit down and they did so. After a while my woman told me to take out some of the meat on the bottom of the kettle and give them to eat. When I did so their countenances changed very much all at once. After they had eaten that I took out a little more and after they had eaten that and sat awhile I took of the kettle. The meat was then well done and I gave it to them in a wooden bowl. They ate very heartily and after they were through eating I made signs to them to wrap up the remainder and take it with them and they did so. By this time it was nearly noon so they wanted me to show them the Indian trace to Sandusky. I took them down to the creek right at the same ford where you cross now from Jeremiah Doming. The creek was a little up and the water was cold. I made signs to them to go across and right at the top of the bank they would find the Indian trail. They waded into the water pretty near to their hips and then stopped. I made signs for them to go on but they stood a while and turned and came out. I tried every way to induce them to try it again but I could not get them into the water again so I started in and waded across and then made signs for them to come across and they did so. Then I took them up on the bank and put them on the trace. They now seemed to be every way satisfied. One put his hand into his pocket and took out a silver half dollar and gave me and then made signs to me that if ever I came to Sandusky he would give me all the whisky that I could drink. They shook hands with me and thanked me over and over and we parted but I never saw them afterwards.
"We remained here for a while but the pasture was so much better on the west side of the creek that we moved over there about where Pleasant Valley now is. Soon the white people began to move in here. Among the very first settlers was Benjamin Springer and his family and Usual Osburn, his son-in-law and they both soon became warmly attached to me and Osburn took great pains in teaching me to speak English, first giving me the names of things and then a word at a time. After I got a little start I learned it very fast. After a little it seemed to come to me almost natural. The next spring came in a number of white settlers, Richard Taylor; Joshua Ewing, John Story and others and they brought with them hogs and cattle and I soon went into the stock business; raising horses; hogs and cattle. Now it was very little trouble to raise hogs and cattle and horses. We never failed to have a full mast of some kind every year either of white oak, bur oak, hickory or beech, all that you wanted for hogs. Pasture for cattle and horses was abundant and all you had to do for them was to cut wild grass for them to take them through the winter. It grew here on the prairie as high as a manes head on a horse. I soon had a fine stock of hogs and cattle and also of horses. I could almost beat any of my white neighbors for I had greatly the advantage if any of my stock strayed off it was no trouble for me to find them. I began to send horses and hogs to the white settlers as they came in and we sold milk and butter to the Indians and furs and skins to the traders. I was now in a manner happy. I could lie down at night without fear, a condition that had been rare with us and I could rise up in the morning and shake hands with the white man and the Indians all in perfect peace and safety. Here I had my own white race for neighbors and the red man that I loved all mingling together. Upon the whole I felt proud over it. I now acted as interpreter between the two races. I became a great favorite to the first settlers. There were many of them that would have suffered or, at least, gone without meat for the first spring and summer if they had not gotten their supply from me. Deer were plenty and it was no trouble for me to kill them. I had no use for the meat only what was necessary for my own family and the balance I gave to my neighbors. And as for works I did but very little for I did not know how to work. I pretty much hired all my work done and I was forced to hire white men for the Indians were like myself and didn't know how nor couldn't work. If they had known how they wouldn't have worked for it is not natural for an Indian to work. And right here my first trouble came. My squaw didn't like to cook for white people. She was opposed to having them about. She became peevish and fretful and would often say to me I had better get me a white woman if I wanted to live like white folks and have white men to work for me. She finally got contrary and would refuse to cook for my hands. So I finally came to the conclusion that I would rather live with the white people and own property for that you could not do to any extent with the Indians.
"In the meantime she had two children but they both died very young and I got a notion that the Great Spirit was opposed to the two races mingling together. Had we been prosperous with children we should never have parted but that with the other things made our separation rather agreeable. She saw that I had taken a fancy to civilized life which was a thing she could never reconcile herself to so we separated in perfect friendship. We had at the time fourteen head of milk cows, nine head of horses and a large stock of hogs. I gave her all the cows and seven head of horses. I kept two of the best horses for my own use as I had made up my mind to go back and see if I could find any of my people living. When we got everything arranged I went with her and took her and the horses and cattle to Upper Sandusky to her people. After we got there and stayed over night, when I was about to leave. I told her I wanted the little trunk of silver. When we went together she had a little tin trunk about six inches long, four wide and four deep and it was full of silver which we had saved from time to time. She told me no, that the trunk was hers before we were married and she intended to keep it and all that was in it. I saw that I could not get it without a fuss. She was very determined and I dared not get into trouble with her on account of her relatives. The other Indians might have sided with me but that I did not know and also I wished to leave her in good friendship. So I told her that if she would promise never to disturb me thereafter she might keep the money which with the horses and cows would make her over a thousand dollars. She promised me faithfully that she would not so we parted in good friendship. But she didn't keep her promise altogether good for she passed my house once afterwards on her way from the salt works to Upper Sandusky and finding no one at home she stuck her butcher knife three times through the bottom of a tin cup and cut up a fine silver mounted bridle that I had paid thirteen dollars for. I made it a rule to visit my Indian friends once every two years at Lewis Town where my sisters lived and I could always hear from my wife at Upper Sandusky but never visited her. She was still living as late as 1830 but I have not heard of her since.
(At this point the story which we have been following launches into a succession of tales about the families of some of the early white settlers. The stories are interesting enough in themselves and present a clear picture of some of the hardships which these people experienced. However, they do not contribute especially to our appreciation of the personality of Jonathan Alder excepting to cite instances when he provided surplus meat for the settlers or helped to settle difficulties between the settlers and the Indians. We pick up the story at the initiation of his return to Virginia to find his mother.)
"It was while living near Foster Chapel and on one memorable pleasant summer Sabbath, John Moore was lounging about in the shade that he commenced asking questions about where I was taken prisoner from. My name, Alder, I had never forgotten and told him I could recollect frequently hearing them use the word Wyth but did not know what it meant. Also they lived near a place called Green Brier and that there was a lead mine near by and that I used to go there and watch the hands dig ore. He then asked me if I could recollect the names of any of the neighbors. After a good deal of reflection I recalled a family by the name of Gullion. When I mentioned the name he dropped his head for a short time as if buried in thought and muttered to himself several times, 'Gullion, Gullion!' At last he raised up his head, 'Now,' said he, 'if there are any of your people living I can find them. My father and myself were out traveling through that country and stopped and stayed over night at a man's by that name in Wyth County, Greenbrier Township and the lead mines are in Virginia and I know where they all are. I am going back on a visit next fall and it is but little out of my way to pass through the county of Wyth and inquire for Alders and Gullions. But the Gullions had left that part of the country and he could hear neither of the name of Gullion or Alder. Moore was a good scribe and he wrote several notices giving the facts, my name and my whereabouts and address and passed on somewhat discouraged he said. He returned back here the next fall and related to me his unsuccessful search but told me what he had done. I now gave up all hope of ever seeing any of my folks. I had had a great deal of anxiety for the last three or four years of finding some of my relatives and had made inquiry of all newcomers if they knew anybody by the name of Alder but without any success. So I now made up my mind to make no further inquiry as all hope was gone. But in the fall after Moore had come back he and I happened to meet in Franklinton and I was informed that there was a letter in the post office for me. I informed Moore of the fact. 'Now,' says he, 'that is from your folks in Virginia.' So he went with me to the post office and he opened the letter. It was from my brother Paul and contained the joyful news that my mother was yet alive and well and not one member of my family had died since I had been taken prisoner. It fairly made me feel light headed to hear from my mother and brothers and that they were alive and well. It had now been over twenty years since I had seen or heard from them. This had now been about six months after Moore had passed through the country. It took a letter those days about three months to go and come. The mail was carried on horse back and in some places on foot. The mail then came around through Kentucky. I got Moore to answer my letter back and we exchanged several letters back and forth.
"Now I began to arrange my business to go back. Moore and I had entered into an arrangement to hunt and be together that summer so for our convenience we built us a snug log cabin on Big Darby just a little east of the Foster Chapel and followed hunting there all season. He read and answered all my letters for me and gave them information of about what time they might look for me the next fall. It was now the month of September, 1804. I began to arrange my business to take my long and tedious journey back to the place of my early boyhood. One of the first things was to buy a lot of dry goods and be dressed up in the order of the whites so I went to Franklinton and laid in goods sufficient for three suits and took them to Richard Taylor. He was a tailor and he made them all up for me in the style of that day, one suit of very fine cloth. I now dropped the Indian costume entirely that I had been accustomed to for the last twenty years. My new suit changed my appearance very much and I must acknowledge that it was not near so handy as my old suit. I now disposed of all my large hogs for cash, all my skins and furs and had equipped myself with a new saddle and bridle and saddle bags. I now owned two good horses and all things being properly arranged my stock hogs could well take care of themselves for the year coming.
"John Moore and his brother, Nicholas Moore, and I set out. Nicholas rode one of my horses and I bore all the expenses. We started in the month of November 1805 and traveled over rough roads, hills, valleys, rivers and mountains. We arrived at my brother Paul Alder's the first Sunday after New Year 1805 at about 11 o'clock, dismounted, hitched our horses and walked up to the house. We passed ourselves off as strangers and travelers and called for our dinner and to have our horses fed, which was readily granted, and inquired who lived there. The man of the house said, 'Paul Alder.' I had concluded not to make myself known for sometime and thought when I would see my mother I would know her by a mole on the side of her face. I wanted to make all the close observations I could before I made myself known to see if I could recognize any of them. There was an old lady sitting there whom I eyed very close to see if I could recognize her as my mother. When I was taken prisoner my mother's hair was as black as a crow and this old lady's hair was almost as white as wool. I supposed she was my mother but could not tell. I then eyed my brother as close as I could but could not see any features that I could recognize at all. There were two young women in the house at the time. One of them was my half sister that I knew nothing of. My mother had been married in my absence and had had one child which was one of the young women present. I noticed that the young women were scrutinizing me very close and they commenced whispering together. I heard one of them say: 'He looks very much like Mark.' That was my brother. I saw they were about to discover me so I turned my chair around to my brother and remarked to him, 'You say your name is Alder?' 'Yes,' said he, 'My name is Paul Alder.' 'Well,' said I, 'my name is Jonathan Alder.'
"Now it is hardly necessary to undertake to describe our feelings at that time but mine was very different from those I had when I saw the Indian coming with the scalp of my brother David in his hand shaking off the blood. When I told my brother that my name was Alder he rose to shake hands but he was so overjoyed that he could scarcely utter one word after giving me a hearty shake by both hands he left the room to give vent to his feelings. My mother rose from her seat and threw her arms around my neck and kissed me. She too was not able to speak for a short time but the first word she spoke was, 'Jonathan, how you have grown.' I was then introduced to my half sister and the talk became common and general. My mother then told me of a dream she had had. She said she dreamt that I had come home and that I was a little ornery mean looking fellow and that she refused to own me as her son but now said she 'I was entirely mistaken for it is quite the reverse and I am proud to own you as my son,' for I stood a little over six feet and as straight as an arrow.
"I told my mother I would relate a few circumstances that took place before my captivity that she would probably recall (in order) that she might know that I was her son. Among them was Mrs. Martin that was taken at the same time and her exchange back the diggings of lead are close to where we used to live; the Negro's passing our house on Saturday evening to spend Sunday with their wives would beg pumpkins of us and get her to bake them so as they would get them to eat on Monday morning as they would be returning to their masters, and about the Indian that passed through the field and how she clapped her hands and how he ran and how John took down the gun and ran out to shoot him but he was out of reach. All of this she well recollected and said she had no doubts but was fully satisfied that I was her son. We then passed the evening in agreeable conversation. I then commenced and related to them that memorable morning and tragedy of my captivity and the killing of my brother David and of my wearisome journey over hills and mountains, sailing down the Big Sandy river in a bark canoe, our travels up through he country, my running the gauntlet, my lonesomeness and homesickness and my poor health for three or four years.
From time to time I gave them my whole history of adversity and prosperity which appeared to be very interesting. During my stay there I visited the old homestead and also the spot where the Indians captured me and where I saw my brother reel and stagger and fall. They told me they found the bones of David and gathered up what they could and buried them. I traveled out a piece on the route that we went. I could show the place where we camped the first night. I visited the house where Mrs. Martin was taken from, but Mrs. Martin had married again after she got back and had moved off so I never saw her after we parted at Salt Springs.
I found my brother living on fifty acres of poor mountain land. I hadn't been there long till I began to persuade them to sell and come to Ohio. The more we talked about it the more anxious they got. I had intended to come back the next fall but my brother made me the proposition (that) if I would stay one year longer he would sell his land and he and mother would come to Ohio with me. I agreed to it and stayed there a part of two years. My brother Mark was sent for and he came to see me but my brother John had moved off so far that I did not get to see him. While roving around I fell in company with Mary Blont as I thought, rather a handsome girl. I fell in love with her and proposed to take her with me to Ohio to which she consented and we were married in the winter of 1806. In the meantime my young sister was married to Henry Smith and they also felt an anxiety to see Ohio, so we all now commenced making preparations for the long Journey by wagon.
"We bought one large wagon and harnessed six horses to it and set out the latter part of August, 1807. We took the most direct road from Wyth County, Virginia to Gallipolis. We traveled over wonderful hills and mountains. At a great many places we locked both hind wheels of our wagon and then cut down a tree and chained a log to the rear axletree of the wagon the hills were so steep and long. We ferried the Ohio river and then took the road for Chillicothe and from there the road for Sandusky, passing up the Scioto to the mouth of the Big Darby and up that to our landing place for the house that John Moore and I had built a few years before.
"We now had been eight weeks on the road. Although the road was rough and hilly no serious accident had happened. I now intended to buy the land upon which my house stood, it being the same land upon which Foster Chapel now stands. But in my absence Lewis Foster had meandered along up the river from Chillicothe and up Darby in search of a tract of land to buy, finding a house on this site he went back to Chillicothe and bought the whole survey of a thousand acres. I had not been in the house more than two months till I was notified by his son that his father had bought the entire tract of land that the house stood on. I then went to Franklinton to see my esteemed friend Lucas Sullivant and he informed me that he owned the tract of land adjoining so I immediately bought of him. My brother Paul and Smith were both good hewers and I gathered up some help and in eight days had my house ready to move into. The same house I am now living in and I want my children to preserve it as long as possible. (The house still stands. It was moved to the church yard, adjoining the Alder-Foster Cemetery on the road from Plain City to West Jefferson, and repaired around 1930 but is now deteriorated badly.) My brother Paul and my brother-in-law Smith soon made selections of land in the three mile run and built houses.
(The second manuscript contains twenty-five pages of single spaced typewriting beyond this point. It consists of stories about the various families of the early settlers who became Jonathan's neighbors, of troubles among those settlers and between the settlers and the Indians. It contains accounts of battles between the whites and Indians incited by the War of 1812. A touching account of the execution of Chief Leatherlips for witchcraft is given and the account of a long interview between Alder and Simon Kenton. Unfortunately the story as transmitted by the second manuscript makes almost no mention of Jonathan Alder's family. His wife does get an occasional mention in connection with some tale involving Jonathan's Indian friends of whom she was afraid. Once, in relating a story about going for a visit and killing a bear on the way, mention is made of the fact that his wife was carrying their first born, a baby of ten months. No name was given. The story tells of the coming to Ohio of Jonathan's father-in-law Adam Blont and his family. We shall pick out a paragraph, mainly about Jonathan's mother.)
"My mother enjoyed life in the new country very well and became acquainted with many of the Indians on the most friendly terms. I took great delight in introducing them to my mother who had formerly hated them with an intense hatred, but how wonderfully circumstances had changed. The Indians took great delight in making her little presents such as fine woven baskets and checkered and painted moccasins ingeniously ornamented with beads and porcupine quills and in the fall of the year and spring cranberries which were quite an article of trade with them and frequently a loaf of the finest maple sugar all of which seemed to rivet the ties of friendship. She looked upon them as my guardian and protector. My mother was now about 72 years of age. She took sick and died and was buried in the Foster graveyard. My half sister had died a few years before and was buried at the same place and so, one after another, of my relatives who followed me to this country began to pass off. My brother's wife and my father-in-law and mother-in-law and some of their children had also passed away and were buried in the same graveyard upon the land that I expected to own and where I expect my bones to be laid."
We will conclude this story by quoting a page and a half from Beers.
"Jonathan and Mary (Blont) Alder were the parents of the following children, Paul (who married Sarah Francis; Mark (died single), Lewis (married Catherine Trimble, who died, and again married a lady unknown to us), Henry (married Elizabeth Milliken, settled on the old homestead where he resided through life; his second wife was Rebecca Timmons, who survives him; he held many of the townships offices and was County Surveyor from 1841-50, 1856-58, 1865-67 and 1871-73, he was also County Commissioner in 1851-54), Margaret (married a Mr. Frazell), Hannah, (William Foster), Rachel, (Harvey Gearhart), Eliza, (Simon Sager), Ann, (a Mr. Jones), Mary, (John Warner), Angeline, (John Betts), while Ruth died unmarried. All of this family were well known and much respected. Jonathan Alder's name appears among the first juries of Madison County so that he early began to be a useful citizen. He became comfortably well off in this world's goods although not rich by any means. In personal appearance, he says, when speaking of the meeting between himself and his mother: 'I was a little over six feet in height, and straight as an arrow ever was.' His hair and eyebrows were as 'black as coal,' his complexion dark and swarthy; his face large and well formed, denoting strength of character and firmness of purpose, his eyes were bright and piercing, while his whole appearance, gait and actions were characteristic of the Indian. This will not be wondered at when we consider the many years he spent among the savages. Old settlers who knew him tell us that 'Jonathan Alder was as honest as the sun' and his whole life, while living it this county, was characterized by the most rigid uprightness and straightforward dealings toward his fellowmen. In 1815, his wife's father, Adam Blont; brought his family to the settlement and here most of them died and were buried in the Foster Graveyard. Alder's mother died in 1817 and was interred in the same ground. On the 30th of January 1849, he too, passed away, leaving to his children an example worthy of the strictest imitation. His remains rest beside those of his friends in Foster Cemetery. His widow survived him several years, first removing to Iowa and thence to Illinois, where at the home of his daughter Hannah Foster, she died and was interred in that neighborhood".
To