"In the year of 1837 my father moved from York State to Port Mitchell.  There were six families lived there then.  Their names were Archibald Frink, Nathan Frink, Ellisia Walker, Milo Street, Mr. Sweet and Isaac Bartley.

I have heard my father tell how he had to walk to Fort Wayne and carry his corn meal home on his back.  Mother and one of my aunts washed for the surveyors.  They earned fifty dollars.  Father took the money and paid the Indians for a horse.  Mother was so mad that she took the ax and drove them away.  One old squaw said, "Smoke-man squaw no good."

The next year it was a sickly year.  Death took Helen Frink, a daughter of A. Frink, and the wife of Nathan Frink, and two of Milo Street's children, and Ellisia Walker.  Walker crept on his hands and knees to father's so he could have care.  He died there.  Mother and I were sick at the time Walker came there.  I have heard father tell how he laid me on the floor to die for he thought that mother or I must die and he would try to save her - then I would cry and moan so pitiful that he would take me up.  The mosquitoes were enough to eat us up so father worked night and day and saved us both.

In the fall of 1839 father moved on the Sparta farm.  He cleared and broke up every bit of that farm.

I remember the lost child of Mr. Noe, how they all searched for it and went so far as to search every house.  They searched father's house.

Father moved in March in the year of 1843 to Spencerville; only stayed six months; then he moved on the farm where he now lives.  It was all woods and at night we could hear the wolves howl.  Father made a pole yard to keep the sheep in.  One night father and mother went to Port Mitchell.  Father made up a good fire for us.  Before they went away my brother and I were playing around the house.  All at once the sheep broke from their pen and ran to the house.  We thought that the dogs were after them.  They would stop in front of the door where the light shone on them.  When father and mother came home they said they were wolves.

At another time father and mother went to Mr. David Kuhns' to lay out a corpse.  He put a back log on the fire before they went.  After they were gone my brothers and I piled on the wood and had a big fire.  We piled the chairs up in the middle of the floor and were running around the chairs and playing as hard as we could, the doors were both open.  We could hear and see the wolves.  We thought they were dogs.  Bill Humphreys ran into the house and shut the doors and told us they were wolves.  It was about 10 o'clock when he came and he sat up all night and kept fire and made us children go to bed."

Published in Albion New Era October 14, 1875

Noble Notes: Work smarder and not harter - and be careful of yor speling.