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Indian Trading. The first permanent white settler in Darke county was Azor Scribner, who in 1806 or 1807 established an Indian trading-house in Greenville township. His goods were hauled from Cincinnati along Wayne's road by a yoke of oxen attached to a rough sled denominated a mud boot, and a trip usually occupied from three to six weeks. He exchanged his goods for furs and did a thriving business. The manner of trading has thus been described: The Indians, bringing with them their roll of furs, walked into the cabin and found seats, while each was presented with a small piece of tobacco. Pipes were lighted, and the residue was placed in pouches. After some time passed in smoking and talking among themselves, one arose, went to the counter, and taking up a yard-stick, pointed out the article wanted and asked the price.

Payment being made in skins, there was to each kind a recognized value. The muskrat was held at a quarter, the raccoon at a third, a doe at a half, and a buckskin at a dollar. Payment was made following each purchase, until all exchanges were effected. As each retired another came forward in his turn until all had traded. No one desired to anticipate his turn, decorum was observed, and no attempt was made to "beat down," for, if not satisfied, another article was pointed out and named. It is reported that Scribner not only sold the Indians tobacco, but rum, and they generally reserved some of their furs with which to procure liquor for a final frolic.

In the winter of 1807-8 Samuel Boyd moved in with his family, and in 1810 the three Rush brothers and some others. A year later the Indians became hostile and committed some murders. Prior to the war of 1812 several dwellings and four blockhouses were erected in Greenville. Among those who were killed by the Indians was Andrew Rush. One day in April, 1812, while going to mill through the wilderness, he stopped at the cabin of Mr. Daniel Potter, when Mrs. Potter asked him if he was not afraid of the Indians waylaying and killing him. Upon this he laughed, and running his hand through his hair jokingly replied: No, I had my wife this morning cut my hair so short that they could not get my scalp off.' That afternoon he was shot from his horse, tomahawked and scalped.

The First School-House.-So slow was the settlement of the county, that in 1824 there

were entire townships that did not contain a single inhabitant. There were but two meeting-houses, one a Methodist, the other a Hardshell Baptist. The roads of the county consisted of the old war traces of St. Clair and Wayne, some Indian paths and some few other traces cut by the early settlers. Educational advantages in town and county were for many years quite limited. There were a few rude school-houses widely scattered, and these were occupied three months of each winter by teachers whose qualifications better adapted them for burning brick than solving problems in mathematics, and consequently there was little learned. Schools were taught by subscription.

Settlers built houses as they were needed. Many settlers had large families-as many as ten children were found in a single cabinand to provide for the future of these young people, the parents came to this county. There was always work to be done, and the services of all hands were needed; it was only during the winter months that schools could be attended. At these only the elementary branches were taught, and the predominant idea of the school-master was discipline first, learning afterward. No grammar nor geography was taught. Few studied arithmetic, and these did not proceed much beyond the rudiments; and when at length grammar was introduced, such pupils were thought well advanced.

In any locality, whenever sufficient families had moved in to form a school, the settlers stood ready to build a house and engage a teacher. Tall, strapping youths attended school, and the master had need of decision and courage as well as method and erudition. It was the custom for the person applying for the school to call upon the parties within sending distance and canvass for scholars. If enough were secured school opened. An illustration of the old-time method is given as follows: About the year 1815 a man came into the Rush neighborhood and offered his services as a teacher. The settlers located along Mud creek, West Branch and Bridge creek talked the matter over and concluded to employ him. It was a light labor for all to turn out with axes, handspikes and oxen, upon a day appointed, to chop and draw logs to a chosen site for the purpose of putting up a school-house. The location was near Rush Fort, on Mud creek. While some put up round logs, notched down one layer upon another, until they were of sufficient eleva

tion to form a story, split clasp-boards for the roof, chamber floor and door, and puncheons for the floor, others drew stone for the fireplace, and prepared sticks and mud for the chimney. The floor being laid, next came the desks and the seats. Large holes were bored in a log on each side of the room, wooden pins were driven in, and a slab or un planed plank laid on these pins. For seats, holes were bored in puncheons and legs driven in, two at each end. Windows were made by cutting out a log nearly the whole length of the house, leaving a hole a foot wide. Into this was foiled a sort of lattice-work of sticks, and upon this greased paper was pasted to transmit the light. Such was the schoolhouse of sixty-five years ago. It was not much of a structure, but there was no great contrast between it and the homes of the builders. There was no lack of ventilation, and the wood was not too long for the fireplace.

Love-Making and Marriage-The arrival of a family occasioned eager inquiry by the young men as to whether there were any marriageable daughters of the number. The demand was in excess of the supply. The same maiden had sometimes several suitors; this involved the delicate matter of rejection as well as choice.

Sometimes the girls were betrothed before leaving home, and a knowledge of this fact caused disappointment. For a long time after the first settlement of the county the people generally married young. The parties differed little in fortune, and none in rank. First impressions of love resulted in marriage, and a family establishment cost only a little labor.

The marriage ceremony was arranged to take place before dinner, which was a substantial feast of beef, pork, fowls, and sometimes venison and bear meat, roasted and boiled, with abundance of potatoes and other vegetables. Dinner was free from formality, and a time for mirth and enjoyment. There was dancing after dinner. The figures of

the dance were three and four handed reels or square sets and jigs. The commencement was always a square four, which was followed by what was called jigging it off; that is, two of the four would single out for a jig, and were followed out by the remaining couple. The jigs were often accompanied with what was called cutting out, that is, when either of the parties tired of the dance, on intimation the place was supplied by some one of the company without any interruption to the dance. In this way the amusement was often continued till the musician was heartily tired of the situation.'

Among marriages in pioneer days was that of Ullry to his brother's widow; they had lived together some time during the inoperative period before the election of justices, and when a justice was chosen they were legally married. In a spirit of jovialty a party of young people, being resolved to have a marriage, seized upon a man named Israel Wertz and fitted him out with a suit. One of the party furnished leggins, another some other article of dress until he was properly clothed, and then calling upon a woman named Jane Dugan, asked her if she was willing to marry Wertz. She replied affirmatively, and they all started for the house of Alexander Smith, a justice of the peace who lived east of Greenville. Wertz repented and broke away, upon which a dog was set after him, and he was caught and held. The ceremony was then performed, and the twain thus singularly made one lived many years together happily, and both finally died of old age.

At this date the only article of export from the county was hoop-poles. During the winter the principal employment of farmers was wagoning these hoop-poles to Germantown, Middletown, Lewisburg, etc., and by this means they were enabled measurably to supply themselves with salt, groceries, leather and other necessaries. This supplied the people with ready money. The county-seat had only about 300 people, many very poor finding it hard work to get a living.

Since the early settlement of Darke county occurring changes have greatly modified the climate, and to a less extent this is still in progress. The original forest, together with the undergrowth, shut out the sun from the soil and impeded atmospheric circulation. The almost monotonous level, receiving the winter snows and spring rains, retained the water through the summer, and thereby caused a moist, cool air. The forests broke the sweep of the cold northwest winds of winter, and the freezing of large, partly submerged tracts gave off a sufficient amount of heat to sensibly mitigate the cold incident to the season. The soil, bedded in leaves and

vegetation, was greatly protected from the frost, and the warm air of spring speedily awakened the dormant germs of vegetation. It also, being protected by the overhanging foliage from the heat of summer, more readily experienced the influences of wind and frost, and hastened winter.

The forests being gradually cut down to make room for cultivation, the land being thoroughly drained, these conditions have correspondingly changed. The earth now receives the sun-rays unobstructed; the air has free circulation. The tilied lands have been underdrained with tile and open ditches, thereby carrying away at once the melting

snows of winter and the rains of spring, leaving little moisture to affect the climate by evaporation. The effect of this denuding and draining of the soil is seen in the great depth to which the summer's sun-rays penetrate, and as these rays are given off, the arrival of winter is proportionally delayed.

But when the reserve of heat is exhausted the unprotected earth is deeply frozen, and from these conditions come later springs, warmer summers and delayed but more severe winters.

An analysis of the climate of Darke county, according to the previous description, requires a consideration, also, of the situation of its land, and the direction and character of its winds.

Located about midway between the Allegheny mountains and the Mississippi river there is observable a prevalence of westerly winds. This is explained by the enormous area of level lowlands whereon the atmosphere is influenced by the earth's rotary motion, causing it to move in westerly currents toward or from the equator. The west and northwest winds are mainly dry-air currents, so that although the annual rainfall is considerable, yet under their action the moisture is rapidly absorbed. Such conditions would inure to the productiveness of most soils, but in a good, rich soil, such as Darke county occupies, there is almost a certainty of ample and abundant crops.

The averages in the various seasons are, approximately, 31° for winter, 57° for spring, 74° for summer, 52° for autumn. The winter is long, and there are sudden changes from the mildness of spring to the most intense cold. These cold spells are rarely of more than seven or eight days' duration, and are generally preceded by storms of rain or snow. Rain falls almost nightly and for a day or so at a time during spring, and the temperature fluctuates from the chill of winter to the warmth of summer. Following one of these changes summer comes and throughout is one of a tropical character. As fall draws near, the atmospheric conditions approach uniformity, and at this period Darke county is seen to the greatest advantage. Breathing an agreeable atmosphere, surrounded by healthful conditions, the beholder looks with pleasure upon the fields, the orchards and the gardens. Turning to the woodlands, he sees the maples, elms and oaks in holiday attire, preparing for their period of rest. There is every hue and all shades of color. The winds toy with the branches; the sunlight is all about them; some are darkened as in shadow, others are brilliant in the glow of light, and all about there are seen bluish, smoke-like mists, completing nature's finest portraiture of the forest in the fall-time arrayed in splendor.

The health of the settler and of the later residents has been subjected to the mutations affecting the climate. In the low swamps miasma prevailed; the action of the sun upon the decaying vegetation opened by the clearing and stirred by the plow, induced

fevers and chills, and there were few that did not, at times, succumb to these disorders. The healthy and hardy entered into the struggle with nature courageously and joyously. Labor had its zest, and food and sleep were most refreshing; but there were many who struggled on under the depression and hindrances of sickness.

As settlers came in and clearing took greater sweep, sickness became more general, or at least more apparent, and when Drs. Perrine and Briggs came to Greenville, they found constant employment in attending to the calls of the sick. Fever and ague prevailed, and few, if any, families but had some sick members. Not then, as now, was quinine available-not even known-and the popular remedies were dog-wood and wildcherry bark steeped in native whiskey.

Slow progress was made for a time, as men became disheartened, left the county and circulated reports that were not only true, but sadly true, of an irreclaimable wilderness of morass and swamp, the haunt of pestiferous agues and consuming fevers. It is a fact that very few of the pioneers of Darke held on through all vicissitudes.

From 1820 to 1840 the doctors were all kept busy attending to the sick, so prevalent were ague, flux and bilious fever at certain seasons of the year. The years 1836 and 1837 were comparatively healthy; the year following was more sickly, and 1839 still more so, and from that time till 1850 there were more or less of bilious complaints every season. Since that date both towns and country have been generally healthy.

As an illustration of the desperation to which the medical treatment subjected patients, we relate an incident in the practice of Dr. Gard, one of the veteran physicians of the early days. He was called in, as family physician, to minister to the wants of a sick child. Cold water was forbidden, and calomel, as was usual, was administered. The doctor then retired, with promise of a return the next day. Cold water was barred; the boy begged for a drink, but entreated in vain, as the doctor's orders were immutable law. He then resorted to strategy. Feigning a desire for rest and repose, the family retired to permit their indulgence. Soon heavy breathing announced that all were asleep, and the patient arose from bed, staggered to the water-bucket, and, to his dismay, found it empty.. This discovery would have been hailed with imprecations that would have roused all in the house had not the necessity of the case demanded control. Water must be had, although the spring was at quite a distance. The coffee-pot was found, and the patient set out to assuage his consuming thirst. He rested several times in the wet grass, but finally arrived at the spring, drank heartily, and, undiscovered, returned to his bed, having placed the well-filled coffee-pot at his bedside. This was two-thirds emptied before this suicidal act was known, when the doctor was hurriedly summoned and stood with astonished and ominous look, awaiting