Remarks of J. V. Jones. 175
REMARKS OF J. V. JONES, ESQ.
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN:- It would hardly
be proper for
me to say " fellow-citizens,"
for the reason of having been absent
from your county for nearly fifty-eight
years. During that time
many changes have been wrought in the
city of Gallipolis and
Gallia county. Eighty-one years ago a
young married couple
might have been seen slowly wending
their way on horseback
down the slopes of the Blue Ridge and
foot-hills of the Allegheny
Mountains of Virginia toward the
beautiful Ohio River as it swept
majestically past the town of
Gallipolis, or the "City of the
French." These young people brought
all their worldly goods
with them on horseback and settled north
of this city, some-
where near what is now known as
"Kerr Station," on the river
division of the Columbus, Hocking Valley
and Toledo Railroad.
The names of these young adventurers
were James Jones and
Priscilla Jones, nee Blagg. After
remaining in old Gallia county
for about twenty-three years they, with
a family of nine children,
of whom your speaker was one, removed
northward to the great
valley lying between the Sandusky and
Maumee Rivers, and
bounded on the north by the beautiful
Lake Erie. This great
forest valley was the hunting grounds of
Indian tribes, known
as the "Senecas" and
"Wyandotts." Our evening serenades in
the grand old forests were not the
handsomely-uniformed bands
of music you have here on this
Centennial occasion, but were
the whooping of the hunting bands of
Indians, the hooting of
the night owl and the howling of the
wolves. There we lived in
the rude log cabin, and lived one corn
bread and the wild game of
the grand old forests. It was there that
we received a common
school education in round log school
houses, daubed with mud
and with greased paper for window lights
and rude benches made
from split logs. But your speaker, one
of the descendants of
that family, has lived to see the
wilderness and the solitary
places be made glad and the desert
places to rejoice and blossom
as the rose.
The Indians have gone to their happy
hunting grounds, the
bear and the wild-cat have fled from
advancing civilization, the
176 Ohio Arch. and His. Society Publications. [VOL. 3
forests have given way to countless
thousands of beautiful and
productive farms, the log cabins have
disappeared and their
places filled with beautiful farm
houses. And in place of the
log school houses and churches we now
have beautiful wood,
brick and stone structures with their
spires pointing heaven-
ward. Then the Sandusky and Maumee
rivers and the beautiful
Lake Erie were dotted only by the
Indian's canoe and the
trader's small craft. Now they carry the
commerce of the great
Northwest, assisted by the railroads, to
the markets of the East--
the cities of New York, Baltimore,
Boston, and from there to the
markets of the old world. In the great
valley of the Northwest
we slumbered for more than fifty years
over mines of wealth in
what was once known as the great
"Black Swamp." Natural
gas and pools of oil lay buried beneath
us in vast quantities,
which have lately been developed into
sources of luxury and
great wealth. Natural gas is now used as
fuel in thousands and
millions of homes and manufactories,
bringing wealth and pros-
perity to many persons who were formerly
in poverty and mod-
erate circumstances.
And now, my friends, after an absence of
nearly fifty-eight
years, I have returned to join with you
in celebrating the one
hundredth anniversary of the first
settlement of the city of
Gallipolis in 1790. My return, after an
absence of so many
years, is almost like coming back from
the grave. In that period
time has wrought wonderful changes, and
I see but one old land-
mark in this large audience that I
recognize, and that one is the
venerable old pioneer and patriot,
William Waddell, who in the
early days of his manhood was a dear
friend of my departed
father, and who will soon join him in a
more beautiful land than
this in the country far away.
In returning to the grand old county of
Gallia and the his-
toric city of Gallipolis to participate
in this grand and beautiful
display and celebration, I feel like one
treading the streets of an
historic city, as a stranger in a
strange land. Yet I am mindful
of the fact that behind me rolls the
majestic Ohio River, its
waters bathing the shores of Ohio and
West Virginia; before me
are the grand old hills of Gallia, my
native heath; under this
pavillion is assembled youth, beauty and
old age, while I am like
Remarks of J. V. Jones. 177
one who stands alone in some banquet
hall deserted, and, like
the soldier on the hill, I turn to take
a last fond look at the
scenes of my childhood, the beautiful
Ohio River, the grand old
hills, the valley and the country
church, and the remains of the
old cottage by the brook.
Joy and sadness are strangely mingled on
this occasion.
Here I recall the sweet reminiscences of
the child-life, which
illumined the past, and touched the
hours with golden light.
Memory lingers upon the solemn bridge
beyond which in my
childhood I played, and in which I still
see little faces flushed
with laughter and childish sports; their
little voices prattling in
melodious heavenly music. I thank you,
my friends, for invit-
ing me to address you on this occasion,
and for your attentive
listening. I will remember it as one of
the pleasant scenes of
my life, and in memory of which I will
often think of the good
people of this city and surrounding
country and the beautiful
hills of Gallia, the place of my
childhood.
Thanking you again, my friends, for this
compliment and
your close attention, I bid you
good-bye.
Vol. III-12