Ohio History Journal

22        Ohio Arch. and Hist. Society Publications.

tence is unique and powerful. The little nation born of the

colonies that fringed the Atlantic coast looked longingly to

the west for opportunities of expansion and growth. Neither

Athenian annals nor Roman records present pages so fraught

with recitals of perilous adventure, strange incident, indom-

itable courage, persistent progress, unflinching patriotism  and

matchless heroism as are revealed in the accounts of the daunt-

less discoverers and  intrepid  pathfinders who  pentetrated

their way across streams and swamps and through the forest

fastnesses of the untrodden west. Then follows the soul-stirring

story of the settlement of the Ohio Valley, and the transforma-

tion, almost in a generation, of a "howling wilderness" into the

peaceful and prosperous garden spot of civilization - the Buckeye

commonwealth. The poetic classic that tells of the search of the

Argonauts for the Golden Fleece is not comparable to the simple

but splendid prose epic describing the journey  of the little band

of Revolutionary veterans which orgainized in the "Bunch of

Grapes Tavern," journeyed over the snow-clad mountains, where

the foot of the white man had never trod before, to Simrall's Ferry

on the Youhiogheny and thence in the "Galley Adventure" floated

down the Beautiful River and made landing and lodgment at the

mouth of the Muskingum, upon whose picturesque and peaceful

banks we are now assembled. The details of that settlement and

the pushing out of the more venturesome members to the location

of this spot will be told by other speakers. My personal interest

and ancestral pride rests in another section of the state. I am a

Western Reserver - a descendant of the Yankee section of the

New England emigration to Ohio. My forebears were in the

frontier settlement business. My grandfather and grandmother

on my mother's side were in the party of David Hudson which left

the Nutmeg State in the year 1800 and proceeded overland in ox-

teams to the shores of Lake Ontario- thence in flat-boats to the

Niagara River, drawing their floats around the mighty cataract

and pulling along the shore of Lake Erie to the Cuyahoga, up

which they ascended, finally founding the town of Hudson.

Many an hour in my early boyhood days have I sat spell-

bound while listening to the tales which my mother told of the

trials and adventures which grandfather and grandmother related

Big Bottom and Its History.             23

to her. Real adventures in the Wild West. One in particular

indelibly impressed my youthful mind. The incident is that once

upon a time the larder of the little log cabin in which they lived

gave out and the cupboard was bare. Grandmother in the emer-

gency repaired some two or three miles to a neighbor's cabin for

the loan of provisions. She started back with the basket of pioneer

edibles, chief among which were numerous chunks of "jerked"

venison. She was overtaken by some wolves which frightened

her into greatest possible speed for her cabin. It was one of those

occasions when "be it ever so humble, there's no place like home."

As her hungry and fierce pursuers gained upon her she deftly

threw out a chunk of the venison, a sort of a sop to Cerebus, over

which they would stop to wrangle; during their contest and delay

grandmother was sprightly sprinting for the home goal; the

bait having been fought over and devoured, another dash of the

wolves would again bring them close upon the heels of their flee-

ing victim. Another chunk of venison was thrown out as the sec-

ond prize for their competition. This perilous act was encored

several times until the last piece was hurled at the pack just as

grandmother breathlessly reached the cabin door. As grand-

mother encountered this thrilling experience some years before

the birth of my mother, it follows that had not that stock of

"jerked" venison held out, I would not be here to-day to regale

you with its faithful recital. You can believe me that in recogni-

tion of that preservation, venison has ever since been "deer" meat

in our family.

We are here to-day to commemorate, by the dedication of this

simple and substantial shaft, a tragedy in our western pioneer

history that reminds us most forcibly of the unparalleled perils,

sufferings and sacrifices of the Ohio pioneers. Truly the corner-

stone of this state was laid in blood. Our New England fore-

fathers fought the British soldiers and the despised ally, the Hes-

sians. But it was civilized warfare. The Ohio pioneers fought

the British and his ally, the cruel, bloodthirsty savage. Immortal

history was written on the banks of the Maumee, the Miamis, the

Sandusky, the Scioto, the Muskingum and the Tuscarawas, a his-

tory of more lasting benefit to mankind than that written on the

banks of the Tiber, the Danube, the Rhine, the Seine, or the

24        Ohio Arch. and Hist. Society Publications.

Thames. It was upon the hills and amid the valleys of the Ohio

rivers that the final struggle ensued between the Saxon and the

savage. It was here the Redman, child of the forest, took his

stand and defiantly and desperately declared he would retreat no

further, but instead would drive the pale face intruder back over

the Ohio and beyond the Alleghanies. It was the most bitterly

contested racial war in the annals of man. It opened with the

Conspiracy of Pontiac (1763) and continued with varying degrees

of fierceness for fifty years until the Confederacy of Tecumseh,

the greatest warrior of his race who yielded not till defeat and

death overtook him at the Battle of the Thames (1813). Ohio

was the rallying ground of the great Indian nations - here were

born and here fought the most illustrious chiefs. Pontiac, Corn-

stock, Logan, Little Turtle, Tarhe, Tecumseh and a score of

others renowned in war, in the chase, and in oratory. Within the

boundaries of our state, moreover, were enacted some of the most

eventful scenes of the American Revolution. The British western

headquarters were at Detroit, the American western headquarters

were at Fort Pitt. The sparsely located settlers of Ohio and

Kentucky were between the two. The war was that of infuriated

savages, spurred on by unscrupulous, treacherous and shrewd

British soldiers and officers. Their weapons were not merely the

flint lock but the tomahawk and the scalping knife. The Eastern

Colonists knew little of the horrors of warfare endured by the

western frontiersman -a warfare continued for twenty years,

from the Battle of Point Pleasant on the banks of the Ohio (1774)

to the Battle of Fallen Timbers on the banks of the Maumee

(1794). It is a tragic and unprecedented history.

It is difficult, almost impossible, for us who are assembled

here to-day, gathered from hundreds of homes of comfort and lux-

ury, to realize that this spot, now the center of a picturesque and

peaceful landscape, with its flowing river, tree-clad hills, grain-

enriched fields and thriving village was little more than a century

ago the scene of a horrible, blood-curdling massacre, a fiendish

slaughter in which the darkness of the forest was illumined by the

flames of the burning hut, and the stillness of the valley was

broken by the gruesome war cries of the savages and the shrieks

Big Bottom and Its History.          25

of their defenseless victims. As with the magic of a wizard's

wand, civilization has changed the picture.

Daniel Webster in his resplendent oration at the dedication

of the Bunker Hill Monument in 1825 began with these words:

"We live in a most extraordinary age. Events so various and so

important that they might crowd and distinguish centuries, are in

our times compressed within the compass of a single life." He

then in magnificent rhetoric described the progress of American

history during the fifty years beginning with the Battle of Bunker

Hill and ending with the date of the dedication of the monument

before which he stood. If it were possible, how much more elo-

quent might have been Mr. Webster's words were he here to-day

to compare the incredible progress of American life in the three-

quarters of a century following the date of the dedication at

Bunker Hill? At that time the population of this country was

but twelve million and the western movement had scarcely crossed

the Mississippi. To-day we number eighty millions of people

and our vast republic reaches with almost evenly distributed enter-

prise from the Great Lakes to the Gulf and from the Atlantic to

the Pacific. Mr. Webster closed his speech wishing "By the bless-

ing of God may this country become a vast and splendid monu-

ment, not of oppression and terror, but of wisdom, of peace and

of liberty, upon which the world may gaze with admiration for-

ever." We have more than fulfilled the optimistic faith of the

great orator. The plucky and persevering pioneers who fought

and bled and died in the conflict with the relentless savages for the

conquest of this fair Ohio Valley, builded better than they knew.

The Ohio Valley, particularly that portion between the Great

Lakes and the River, the Alleghany Mountains and the Wabash,

has given to the Union one of the brightest gems in the jeweled

crown of states. The survivors of the Revolution, wearied and

worn, homeless and poverty stricken, sought this fair country for

homes in their declining years and for a heritage to their children

and their children's children. The soil of Ohio was made sacred

by the dust of the three thousand Revolutionary soldiers who were

buried beneath its sod, and that precious patriotic seed brought

forth loyal fruit an hundred fold, for it was Ohio that furnished