towns, and elegant rural palaces; highways and railroads throughout our broad domain; caused the light of science to illuminate every corner, gave us laws and educational and religious and charitable institutions, which would be an honor to the older States; and instead of a Territory of less than 30,000, we now have a State containing over 1,500,000 inhabitants in the full enjoyment of all the rich bounties of nature and art. But has Michigan arrived at the zenith of its prosperous progression, and hereafter to remain stationary? No!' will be the emphatic exclamation of every one, because the history of the past and the present indication in regard to the future are such as to justify a firm belief in a steady and continued onward movement in all the good, ennobling characteristics of a great and prosperous commonwealth.

"Veteran pioneers, respected fathers and mothers, you do not need monuments of brass or marble to proclaim the remembrances of your glorious achievements to coming generations; because your footprints are deeply and indelibly impressed upon this fair land, where the result of the magnificent work of your hands are the best of testimonials for you. Here you not only hewed out and laid those deep and broad foundations, but you were the architects and builders of a grand superstructure, whose lofty, "imposing towers and pinnacles greet the rays of the rising sun, and afford shelter and protection to life and property.

HON. DAVID ADAMS

was one of the earliest settlers in the northwestern portion of Jackson county, where he located in Tompkins, in the spring of 1833. At that time, in that now prosperous township, there was but a handful of people, and Adams' nearest neighbors were Abel Lyon, who lived half a mile away, Joseph Wade, one mile, Deacon Townley, two miles. Mr. Adams, J. M. Jamieson, Henry Hecox and D. W. Parchal came into the county together, and located lands for future homes. Adams and Jamieson were the only ones of the company who had means enough to move their families, and the following fall they made clearings and put up houses. Jamieson kept batchelor's hall; and the next summer Adams's family came on via the Erie canal to Buffalo, whence they took steamboat to Detroit. From the latter place they were conveyed to their future home in a wagon; a three days' journey over rough logways, and through almost bottomless marshes, with mosquitoes swarming about them in clouds. They often got stuck in the swales, when they were forced to unhitch and double teams to pull them out. One of the drivers on this trip declared that "his team went in out of sight, but he kept whipping and hallooing at the hole, and they eventually came out all right on the other side!"

Of the many discouragements and hardships of those early days it is unnecessary to speak, as the old settlers have had experience in that direction and know all about them; while the younger gen

eration could not realize how great they were, even if told them. But those early days were not without their pleasures of a social nature. The oxen would be yoked to the large lumbering ox-sled; there were no horses in those days; straw would be used to sit upon, and a buffalo robe or a few bed-quilts employed to wrap women and children, and off would start a family to spend the day or evening with neighbors, taking other families on the way along with them. There were no broadcloths, no silks, no "fuss" in the way of preparation; they were ready at a moment's warning; there was no necessity to notify anyone, as they were every day alike, and went just as they were, as regards their personal outfits. Nor was it deemed necessary to apprise the family they intended visiting that they were coming, as "pot-luck" was the word in those days, there being no luxuries to offer. What was lacking in high living was made up in good feeling. All went in for a good time generally--singing, dancing, telling stories, and merry-making; and often an entire night would be thus spent, as it was found difficult, seemingly, for the settlers to separate early when they got together on such occasions. They were hail fellows well met, and ready with a helping hand in time of need.

Mr. Adams was thrown upon his own resources at an early age. While a boy he learned the shoemaking trade, and later learned the jeweler's trade, in the days when spoons were made by hand. He located and opened a shop in Lyons, N. Y., where he married Hannah Perrine, who proved to be a help indeed, cheering and assisting in every womanly way to make their home bright and happy. She was noted for never complaining, but always making the best of everything as it came. In his younger days he was one of those generous, wholesouled men, to whom a dollar's worth of fun was worth five dollars of cash at any time; consequently he was not overburdened with this world's goods. He often remarked that had he not married a prudent wife he would probably never have laid up anything. When he came West he was not rich, but had enough to keep the wolf from his own door, and some to help his less prosperous neighbors; for he was no niggard, but generous to a fault, often putting himself out to accommodate a friend. He never turned any away hungry from his door; his "latch-string" was always out; his unvarying price for a meal was "$14." He was always an earnest politician. He and T. E. Gidley, with a few others of like political faith, met at Slab City, a little west of where Parma now stands, and organized the Whig party in this county. He remained in that party until it went to pieces, or was merged into the Republican party of which he was an earnest worker.

In the early days the circuit court consisted of a judge and two associates. Mr. Adams was one of the associates, hence his title. of "Judge." In Woodbridge and reform times he was appointed "agent" of the State prison, then in its infancy, which office he held two years, when the political complexion of the State changed, and he was rotated out for another, returning to his farm. Shortly

after this time he joined the M. E. Church, of which he remained a consistent member, ever ready with his talent, time and money to help on the cause he espoused. His temperament was of the nervous, sanguine order, which always made him look on the bright side of events; consequently he was always cheerful and happy, with a good word for all. Although an earnest Christian, he was no bigot; his charity was large, always contending that there was much more good than evil in man. He had many warm friends and but few enemies. The latter never questioned his honesty of purpose or the purity of his intentions.

JOHN L. MOORE,

now of New York State, but formerly of this State, was recently interviewed as follows:

I suppose," said the interrogator, "that your journey from New York State to Michigan at that early day was not a very luxurious experience?"

"Well, we certainly did not come in a palace car, nor did we go to bed at home and awake next morning in Detroit," was the reply; "however, we got here. I particularly well remember that we crossed into Canada at Lewiston, May 14, 1831. The next day we dined at Brantford, with Brandt, a son of the renowned chief of the Mohawks. Our host on that occasion was educated, I believe, in England, and although he held a commission from the crown he was himself chief of his tribe. He was one of the most perfectly formed men I ever saw. At dinner he was in military undress, and he acted the host with all the possible graces and refinements of the oldest civilization.

"The next point that especially attracted my attention, and that lives freshest in my memory, was the town of Oxford, which seemed to me one of the most beautiful portions of the country I had ever seen. We crossed the Thames at Moravian Town, not far from which place both of my horses were poisoned. One of them died right there, and the other lived only about long enough to reach Detroit. Goodale took my wife in his wagon, and through his good nature we were enabled to get our stuff through. I never knew who poisoned my horses, but I always believed it was the work of a female tramp who had taken offense at my refusal to allow her to make one of our party."

'How long did you remain in Detroit?"

(6 'Let's see. We arrived here Sunday, May 21, 1831, and I left for Jackson on the following Wednesday-three days. I left Goodale here and went on alone. I say alone, but of course had my own family. Ann Arbor was our first halting place-forty miles I believe they call it but we made it in one day; and the end of our second day's journey, after crossing Detroit river, brought us to Jackson, where I had decided to settle. There was no road or sign of a road west of Ann Arbor, and the only families in Jackson were those of William R. Thompson and his brother,

Mr. Bennett and Mr. Blackman. I was the fifth married man that settled in that neighborhood, and I put up the first frame building in Jackson county. When I arrived there, the town of four houses-two of which were taverns and all built of logs— boasted two physicians whose names I have forgotten. Half a mile out of the 'city' lived a man named Deland. I believe there were no other settlers near Jackson then.

"On the path from Ann Arbor a Mr. Sloat kept a tavern at Honey creek, five miles west of Ann Arbor, and nine miles further on a man named Garlick had built a house. There was only one family at Grass Lake, and not a building from there to Jack

son.

In the further course of conversation Mr. Moore said that he remained in Jackson less than a year, owing to both his own and his wife's ill health.

On leaving Jackson he moved to the town of York, Washtenaw county, and became one of the founders of Mooreville, at which place he was the first postmaster, and carried the first mail through from Saline to Raisin. He subsequently returned to the East, and since 1843 has lived in New York. During the many years of his proprietorship of the Madison Square and other hotels in the metropolis, Michigan people always found a hospitable welcome. He is now living in retirement at Mt. Vernon, on a beautiful place not far from the city, in the serene enjoyment of a hale and happy old age, with all his faculties as bright as they were half a century ago, and his genial love of human kind in no degree abated.

RECOLLECTIONS OF THE PAST.

BY REV. ASAHEL A. KING.

Rev. Mr. King, at present pastor of the Lone Star Baptist Church, at Chepstow, Kansas, prepared the following interesting paper for this work. The subject is well treated, although it claims to be a plain, unvarnished tale:

"My grandfather, Asahel King, was born in Massachusetts, Sept. 15, 1781. In the 12th year of his age he was hired to go as a drummer in the State militia. He was drum-major in the war of 1812. His company was ordered to Sacket's Harbor in 1814. Before it got there the British surrendered. An important event happened at the harbor, which is worthy of record. As the British were surrounding the harbor, led by their general, and shouting 'the victory is ours,' the American soldiers were few in numbers and expected defeat; a young boy lay sick in a log coopershop; but seeing the danger, he leveled his musket at the general, fired, and he fell dead. The British became terrified, and supposing the building to be full of soldiers, they fled in dismay. This, added to other defeats, proved to be a great event in the closing of the war. This was in 1814.

"My grandfather had eight daughters and four sons. He moved from Lafayette, N. Y., to Rives, Jackson Co., Mich., in 1837. He was a tanner and currier, also a shoemaker and a farmer. His boys were all farmers here except my uncle, Asahel King, who lived on a farm at Cardiff, Onondaga Co., N. Y., where the famous Cardiff Giant was exhumed.

"When my father and grandfather settled here, Michigan was a wilderness; no clearing for miles around; the wolves howled around during the night, and Indians prowled about by day; they suffered for food, they lost cattle, etc.; they used to go to Detroit for all their provisions and to sell their wheat, etc., driving oxen instead of horses, and there sold their wheat for 35 cents per bushel. Jackson was only a small village then. My father has often mired fast in Main street, his oxen not being able to extricate the wagon.

war.

"When grandfather came here in 1836, in company with Horace G. Cole, the soldiers were just returning from the Toledo Of course they had done exploits.' My father had been all through Michigan to Chicago, the year before, in company with two other men named Caleb Jackson and Hiram Anderson (I believe); they rode Indian ponies, going through Canada on their return to New York. When my father returned to his wilderness home he was yet a single man, in 1838. He was married to Miss Rebecca Emily Smith, daughter of John Smith, who came from Dover, England. Mr. Milton J. Draper was then justice of the peace, and he married our parents according to the Methodist rule, which ceremony occupied a whole hour.

'When father was living in his log house, and my brother Jefferson was about eight years old, a black bear came into his woodshed and tried to get a calf-skin hanging there. My brother thought it was a dog, and whistled to call it. My father shot at it, but it only shook itself and ran off. One day when my mother was alone, two large, fat deer came and stood side by side in front of the door and very near. A rifle was loaded in the house, but she dared not shoot it, although they needed meat very badly. Father often started large herds of deer away from his cellar while digging it. He shot a large turkey just where he built his house; the turkey -an his head into a brush heap and supposed he was safe.

"The Indians were all around and often came for something to eat. When they were through eating they always took all the food from the table, away in their blankets. Mother was often frightened at night when alone, by some old Indian looking at her through the window. The young Indians used to steal corn for roasting, then hide it (as they supposed) under their blankets; eyery now and then an ear would drop; they would conceal it again as soon as they could.

"The wolves used to howl terribly at night. In the winter of 1837 they killed and ate an Indian, near the corner of Tompkins, Eaton Rapids, Springport and Onondaga townships.