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threw the reins over the neck of the pony and stepped upon the log, took off his hat, his hair parted in the middle of his head, and flowing on either side to his shoulders, his beard resting on his breast. In a minute at the top of his voice he said: "Behold, I come quickly, and my reward is with me. My subject is repentance. We sing, "While the lamp holds out to burn, the vilest sinner may return. That idea has done much harm, and should be received with many grains of allowance There are cases where it would be easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a man to repent unto salvation. Let me illustrate. Do you suppose that the man among you who went out last fall to kill his deer and bear for winter meat, and instead killed his neighbors' hogs, salted them down, and is now living on the meat, can repent while it is unpaid for? I tell you nay. Except he restores a just compensation his attempt at repentance will

On another occasion, it has been said, having been informed that the people thereabouts had suffered from the depredations of a hog thief, he took occasion to state to an assemblage whom he was addressing, that he felt certain that the thief was among them. Then stooping down he picked up a stone, and said: Now I am going to throw this stone at him,' at the same time making a motion as if to throw it, whereupon an individual in the crowd dodged. That's him," exclaimed Dow, pointing to the conscience stricken individual. The people called him Crazy Dow; his wife Peggy accompanied him in his travels. He introduced camp meetings in England.

A Witch Story.-In the early settlement a family by the name of Hildebrand accused one of their neighbors, Nancy Evans, of being a witch. Although the statutes of Ohio made no provision for cases of this kind, they persuaded a justice of the peace to take the matter in hand. A tradition prevailed that if a witch was weighed against the Bible she would be compelled to tip the beam. A rude scale was made, and in the presence of the neighbors, with the Bible at one end and Nancy Evans at the other, she was thus adjured: Nancy Evans, thou art weighed against the Bible to try thee against witchcraftry and diabolical practices." This being done in the name of the law, and with a profound respect for the word of God, had a solemn and conclusive effect. Nancy was of course too heavy for the Bible; an excellent woman, who willingly submitted to this novel process to bring peace of mind to her ignorant, deluded neighbors, whom she pitied.

SAM

Bethel is noted for the number of prominent characters who have dwelt there. UEL MEDÁRY, from Pennsylvania, came to Bethel almost destitute; with twenty-five cents capital opened a school, and in 1828 started a newspaper, the Ohio Sun, now the Clermont County Sun, at Batavia. Medary was no printer, but he edited it, delivered it personally to the subscribers, and taught school at the same time. He eventually moved to Columbus, and as editor of the Statesman and Crisis, became the most in

fluential editor of the Democratic party in the State. Late in life he was territorial governor of Kansas and Nebraska. He was genial, possessed business tact and force of character. Prof. DAVID SWING, D. D., the eminent divine, was born near the village. Two eminent Methodist divines are identified with the history of the county: Rev. Dr. RANDOLPH SWING FOSTER, who was born here, and Rev. STEPHEN M. MERRILL, who passed his youth here. The noted Gen. THOMAS L. HAMER, in 1818, came to Bethel a poor, friendless boy, and found a home in the family of Thomas Morris, with whom he studied law.

JESSE R. GRANT, the father of Gen. Grant, bought a home at Bethel about 1845, where he lived ten or tweve years. While he was there the general, at that time just from the Academy at West Point, and later from the Mexican campaign, visited his father, and passed a number of months in the quiet village The general's father carried on a tannery, and in 1852 was elected mayor. His duties were partly magisterial, and one of his first was to try some of the village roughs for fighting, on which occasion he used the finishing-room of his tannery for a court-room. The place was crowded, and the better to see some of the small boys mounted a pile of hides. The pile was totlish, and the leather slid, and one urchin landed precipitately into a tub of Father Grant's oil, which afforded as much diversion as the fight itself.

on all other subjects he was in full accord with it. In Thomas Morris the apostles of human freedom found their first champion. The Congress of 1837-38 saw a deep and agitated discussion of this question, and Mr. Morris replied to the arguments of John C. Calhoun, in an able and elaborate speech, which attracted the attention of the whole country by its bold and truthful utter

ances.

February 7, 1839, Henry Clay made a great speech, to counteract and arrest the public agitation of slavery; and two days after Thomas Morris replied to it, in the mightiest and crowning effort of his life, concluding with these prophetic words (golden in the light of subsequent events): Though our national sins are many and grievous, yet repentance, like that of ancient Nineveh, may yet divert from us that impending danger which seems to hang over our heads as by

a single hair. That all may be safe, I conclude that the negro will yet be free."

This noble speech startled the Senate, produced a marked sensation throughout the country, and electrified the warm hearts of humanity the world over. John G. Whittier, the poet, then a young editor, said: "Thomas Morris stands confessed the lion of the day.

Thomas Morris was far in advance of his time, and in less than a month after the delivery of his great startling speech he left the Senate and public life, a political exile, his party having refused to re-elect him to the Senate. Mr. Morris soon became identified with the "Liberty Party," and in 1844 was its candidate for Vice-President. He died suddenly December 7, 1844, aged sixty-nine years, with his intellectual powers unimpaired by age, his physical system in vigorous activity, and his heart still warm in the cause of freedom.

Gen. WILLIAM LYTLE was born in Cumberland, Pa., and in 1779 his family emigrated to Kentucky. Previous to the settlement of Ohio young Lytle was in several desperate engagements with the Indians, where his cool, heroic bravery won general admiration. Before the treaty of Greenville, while making surveys in the Virginia military district in Ohio, he was exposed to incessant dangers, suffered great privations, and was frequently attacked by the Indians. This

business he followed for the greater portion of his life. In the war of 1812 he was appointed major-general of Ohio militia, and in 1829 surveyor-general of the public lands of Ohio, Indiana, and Michigan. In 1810 Gen. Lytle removed from Williamsburg to Cincinnati, where he died in 1831. As a citizen he was distinguished for public spirit and benevolence, and in his personal appearance and character strikingly resembled President Jackson. Beside the facts given under the head of Logan county, we have space for but a single anecdote, exhibiting his Spartan-like conduct at Grant's defeat in Indiana. that desperate action the Kentuckians, overpowered by nearly four times their number, performed feats of bravery scarcely equalled even in early border warfare.

In

In this struggle Lytle, then hardly seventeen years of age, had both his arms shattered, his face powder-burnt, his hair singed to the roots, and nineteen bullets passed through his body and clothing. In this condition, a retreat being ordered, he succeeded in bringing off the field several of his friends, generously

aiding the wounded and the exhausted by placing them on horses, while he himself ran forward in advance of the last remnant of the retreating party to stop the only boat on the Ohio at that time which could take them over, and save them from the overwhelming force of their savage adversaries.

On reaching the river he found the boat in the act of putting off for the Kentucky shore. The men were reluctant to obey his demand for a delay until those still in the rear should come up, one of them declaring that "it was better that a few should perish than that all should be sacrificed.' He threw the rifle, which he still carried on his shoulder, over the root of a fallen tree, and swore he would shoot the first man who pulled an oar until his friends were aboard. In this way the boat was detained until they came up, and were safely lodged from the pursuing foe. Disdaining personally to take advantage of this result, the boat being crowded almost to dipping, he ran up the river to where some horses stood panting under the willows after their escape from the battle-field, and, mounting one of the strongest, forced him into the river, holding on to the mane by his teeth, until he was taken in the middle of the stream into the boat, bleeding and almost fainting from his wounds, by the order of his gallant captain, the lamented Stucker, who had observed his conduct with admiration throughout, and was resolved that such a spirit should not perish; for by this time the balls of the enemy were rattling like hail about their ears.

To this place the whole crowd hurried. Nothing could restrain them so eager were they to find the lost child.

In all these journeyings the father was present, so absorbed in grief that he could neither eat nor sleep. Sorrow drank up his spirits, and he refused to be comforted. When hope was kindled he seemed like one frantic, and flew in every direction, calling most piteously the name of his child, “Lydia!" "Lydia !”

The eighth morning the company started out abreast, about three rods apart, with a man in the middle and one at each end of the line, whose duty it was to blow horns at intervals to keep the line in order. The line extended for several miles.

On the morning of the fifteenth day we found on the north fork of the Whiteoak her footprints in the sand where she had crossed that stream. These footprints greatly revived our hopes, as they appeared fresh. Sending back a man to notify the main body we proceeded up the creek until we came to a large blackberry patch. Near this patch we found a neat little house built of sticks over which were placed, in regular layers, pieces of moss. In the centre was a little door, and in the interior was a bed made of leaves, covered with moss and decorated with wild flowers. All could see at once that it was the work of a child, and as we gazed upon it the tears stole freely down our cheeks.

Here away in the wilderness, far from human habitation, had this child constructed this miniature house, and thus recalled the scenes of home, sister, mother and father.

The child must have been here several days, for from her little house to the blackberry patch she had beaten quite a path.

Discovering no fresh signs of her presence we determined to return to the main creek and wait the coming of the company, and prevent, if possible, the eager crowd from rushing on and destroying the signs. More than a thousand men camped along the creek that night.

Fearing the consequences of disclosing our discovery that night we kept it secret until morning, when, forming the company into military order, we marched them out into the opening flanking out right and left. They surrounded the entire space, forming a hollow square. At the sight of the little bower a scene occurred which it would be impossible to describe. Here were brave stalwart men, who had been subjected to the perils of the wilderness, contending for every inch with savages and wild beasts, whose hearts were never known to quail with fear, who at the sight of that little bower were melted to tears. But when the father came up to the little dwelling his own dear child had built, and exclaimed, "Oh! Lydia, Lydia, my dear child, are you yet alive?" a thousand hearts broke forth in uncontrollable grief.

The result of investigation showed that the tracks were several days old. Horse tracks were also found, and the conclusion was that she had been carried away by the Indians.

Two miles from "Lydia's camp," for so it is called to this day, they found her bonnet, and farther on an Indian camp several days old. Further pursuit being considered useless the company disbanded and returned to their homes.

The father never gave up the search, but penetrated the wildest solitudes and sought her among the Indians till the day of his death. The lost was never found.

Cornelius Washburn engaged in it with the keen perceptive intelligence which only a noted hunter possesses, and that it was wonderful to see him calm and thoughtful walking slowly along noting a leaf upturned, pea vine, brush or anything disturbed, while others could see nothing except at a time when he would point out to them tracks of the child on the sand bars, beds of leaves or the like. Some of the searchers made so much noise, hollowing, blowing horns, etc., that Washburn begged of them to desist, and he would find the child, insisting that after she had been lost so long that she would hide from man as quick as she would from a

wild animal. They would not heed him but dashed ahead. Mr. Claypool continued: I was once lost when eight or nine years of age with Jake Ashton, a year younger, and can fully realize Washburn's assertion of fright. We went out early in the morning to hunt the cows; soon the path gave out and we were lost in the flat beech swamps between Glady and Glassy Runs. We wandered about until night, coming out at a new road recently underbrushed just at the time that an infair party of about a dozen couple on horseback were passing. Although knowing most of them we hid until they passed.