Ohio History Journal

FORT GREEVILLE TRADITIONS.

JAMES OLIVER ARNOLD.

Four walls of wood growth of hickory, walnut, oak, ash and

elm, mingled with maples and undergrowth, so dense that a horse-

man could not pass; so tall that its shade cast a gloom about;

and between these walls a clearing and military fort. Beyond,

another clearing and a cabin built of logs, lighted by a little win-

dow. The heavy oaken door swung on wooden hinges; the curl-

ing smoke from the chimney, made of lath, grass and clay; and

"the latch string out," bid welcome to the guest without; an in-

vitation to enjoy the open fire and the hospitalities of the host. A

veritable, typical home of the pioneer in the County of Darke, in

the Village of Greenville, O. "A U. S. military fort," in the lat-

ter days of the 17th century, where General Wayne bid the In-

dians all adieu.

The military engineers then laid their roads on the "high

ways" above the lowlands, swamps and fallen timber, and so nar-

row that the wheels of the conestoga wagons would touch the

undergrowth and trees in passing to the fort. Through lands so

wet and ruts and mud so deep that to ride the saddle horse of the

team, and the family on horseback, in the trail was a lullaby in

comparison to the rocking, jolting wagons that sheltered the

mother and her babes on their journey to the clearing in the for-

est wild. Grandfather Hardman (Herdman) of Pennsylvania,

his heroic wife and two sons, one son and his wife Mary, and her

babe, were the pioneers in such a home. True to family tradi-

tion, often told in later years, that made the small boy tremble

with fear as he heard it before the great open fire in the home yet

standing in Dayton View, there were related the stories of the

hostile Indians, who were jealous of their rights, and would have

scalped the family long before but for the mother, Mary Hard-

man, who knew their habits from a child and her mother's way

of pleasing them by "putting the kettle on" to make them soups

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Fort Greenville Traditions.            61

when e'er she'd see them come, thus to appease their wrath and

to afford protection. The son who was doing duty as a soldier at

the fort pleaded and pleaded in vain to have them come within

the line and not expose themselves to fate. But, heeding not,

they held their own opinion, determined to carve a home in the

forest for themselves and children.

The morning dawned, the atmosphere so dense that smoke

from all the clearing round seemed so depressing that boded the

coming of the foe, and she often looked through the chinks to-

ward the wagon road to sight them first, that they might be ready

in defense. Grandfather said in muffled tones: "It is one of the

old woman's scares that she cooks up on gloomy days." But

hark! Behind the cabin footsteps of no uncertain sound to the

practiced ear, reassured the mother of her alarm, and hastened

to place the kettle on the fire, for well she knew their stealthy

tread on mischief bent. And when she saw the swarthy face be-

tween the cabin chinks she knew their fate was sealed and called

her son and bade him hasten to escape and alarm the soldiers at

the fort, for all her hope was gone. The mother clasped her babe

to run for life. Each must seek themselves a place of safety, and

ere the father crossed the fence, an arrow swiftly sped, had laid

him cold in death. The mother ran, hid by bushes, with her babe,

until faint and weary with her load and finding they were on her

trail, concealed her babe, thinking they might spare it, and ran

to hide herself in a place of safety. So well she knew the woods

and dens to trap the fox, she jumped in one of these and covered

with leaves she lay hiding until the night passed. They had found

the babe and by torture cruel, so that she could hear it cry, ex-

claiming as they passed, "Calf cry, cow come." This too heart

rending for a mother's love, she raised her head and thus ex-

posed to sight, when a warrior, active, yet quite young, turned

back to cleave her skull, but touched with pity followed on and

left the babe and mother to their fate, in answer to her prayer.

When all was quiet she went her solitary way toward the fort and

there found help and started to their forest home. 0! what a

scene. Her father, mother, slain, her husband d ad beside the

broad bush fence, and the son beyond.

They gathered all and carried them to the fort, leaving the

62       Ohio Arch. and Hist. Society Publications.

desolated home. The soldiers swore in wrath their vengeance

and pursued the Indians to their death and captured many who

paid the penalty, "save one." And she, who never forgot the face

of him, so young, who saved her life and the babe, when he, a

captive taken, she in turn saved him from death with pleading

tears. He, then unknown to fame, was the future great Tecum-

seh, born on the shores of Mad river, in the northwestern terri-

tory, now the state of Ohio, U. S. A. The child thus saved was

named Mary, after her mother, and lived to be a strong, healthy

woman of fine, large stature, nearly 20 stone in weight. She

married James Bracy Oliver of Augusta Springs, Va., who came

to Dayton in 1802. He on a pony stopped at the northeast cor-

ner of Fifth and Main, where a cabin stood in the wilderness, and

asked: "How far is it to Dayton?" He was answered by Wil-

son: "Follow the trail around the pond and you will soon be in

Dayton." The pond since was filled with logs. The courthouse

markes the spot. "Uncle Jimmy," as he was afterwards called,

so jolly was he, said: "When I arrived in town a big 2-story

tavern greeted my view, and only a few 1-story cabins, and this

was called Dayton, Northwestern Territory. I had my pony,

saddle and 50 cents in my pocket and two good buffalo robes. I

made my bed in the cabin and slept soundly. I laid on one robe

and covered with the other."

Mary Hardman and James Bracy Oliver, her husband, lived

a prosperous and happy life, raised six sons and five daughters

and left a large estate. His first farm he sold to the Montgomery

county commissioners for an infirmary, after A. D. 1820, and pur-

chased lands north of the Soldiers' Home, where the brick house

and log barn is standing, owned by William King. And they are

buried in the family lot alongside the road; the graves are marked

by four large stone ashlers set on edge, hooped with iron, mark-

ing the spot where the once little babe, who lived to see her grand-

children, was once saved from death by Tecumseh, near Fort

Greenville, O. Many pass the spot thinking little of its historic

lore. Uncle Jimmy and his wife passed away a full half a cen-

tury ago, and this story has lain in manuscript fully 30 years,

written in memory by the oldest grandson, who now resides at

629 Superior avenue, Dayton, O., in the same house where he