CHAPTER II.

EARLY SETTLEMENT OF JACKSON COUNTY.

In chronicling the history of Jackson county and its early settlers, a task usually difficult has been made comparatively easy, owing to the courtesies extended to the writer by the officers of the Pioneer Society and many members of that organization, who placed the records at the disposal of the writer, or prepared special papers for this work. It may be impossible to collate all the fragmentary scraps of history for the past half century; but enough will remain recorded in this chapter to enkindle in the memory of the surviving pilgrims recollections of kindred facts, not given us, which would otherwise lie wrapped in oblivion. Records of such items should be made as they are brought to light, that the historian of the future may have abundance of material from which to compile. Studious care will be taken to leave uncertain information unrequisitioned, and to observe accuracy and truth.

ANTE-PIONEER HISTORY.

That the Indians of many tribes met within the present confines of Jackson county in their travels between Chicago and Fort Detroit has been conceded; nor is it questioned by many that at a very early period, perhaps prior to the Revolution, the Pottawatomies, Kickapoos, Shawnees, Foxes, Sacs, and some wandering Otchipwas, met near the present capital of the county, then the Washtenong country, and ensanguined the wilds east of the meeting of the trails with their blood. The bones which had been so extensively scattered over the wilderness in 1830, and found even at present, point to this as having been the terrible battle-ground of the barbarians. The legends of the Northern Crees and Assinniboines speak of Central Michigan as the scene of the "great battle," and even the war songs of the Pottawatomies did not fail to notice it.

In 1673 the holy Marquette, with the gallant Joliet, appeared among the tribes of the Northwest, and prepared the barbarian mind to conceive an idea of the white invader who was destined to occupy the Indian hunting-grounds within a century and a half. The first white men who are known to have arrived at the meeting of the trails were involuntary visitors. Their names were McDonagh and Limp,-two soldiers of Harrison's army corps,reported missing while en route to Detroit in 1812. But from what little can be learned from the British blue books, it may be presumed that the Pottawatomies seized upon many more American troops, and wreaked their vengeance on them close by or within

the limits of Jackson city. Those soldiers were the first white settlers; their ashes rest here, and over their graves rises a beautiful city, while the barbarians who put them to death are vanished, banished or slain.

BAPTISTE, THE TRADER.

The French-Canadian voyageur came next, and he was followed by the French trader. The presence of the Frenchman among the wigwams of the wild hunters rather detracted from the morals of the former than added to the intelligence of the latter. He introduced his peltries first, and followed up his commercial successes by the sale of fire-water. He ultimately acquired the proprietorship of a squaw, and for years shared in the sympathies and manners of the savages among whom he dwelt. As a rule, the earlier traders, after many years' intercourse with the red men, decamped from their wigwams, separated forever from their Indian wives, and sought the civilized life of olden days; but the last French trader known in Jackson county was faithful to his savage spouse for a long time and continued to dwell on the old campground long years after the last of the Pottawatomies disappeared from the county. This trader was generally known by the name of Baptiste Boreaux, and claimed to have traded with his dusky customers from the year 1815 to the period of the great influx of immigration. The little lake in Henrietta which bears his name is the only monument of his early visit and his stay; but there are many living who remember him well, and bear testimony to his rude excellence. Generation after generation of savages appeared upon the scenes of Indian life, roamed through the forest, or paddled their canoes down the streams of the county, while yet beyond them and around swarmed the civilizers, the immigrants from the East. The white man at length appeared. The Indian did not flee from his approach, but lived among the deer and wolf and bear which abounded in the district and offered them pleasure and food. Sometimes a group of redskins would assemble in the rude cabin of the backwoodsman, light the pipe of peace, and tell such stories as the following:

THE STORY OF THE FLOOD.

Wap-ka-zeek, a chief of one of the bands of Indians inhabiting Jackson county, related the following legend of the deluge to Barnard, an Indian trader:

"One morning water for washing was brought to Manu, and when he had washed himself a fish remained in his hands. And it addressed these words to him: 'Protect me and I will save thee.' 'From what wilt thou save me?' 'A deluge will sweep all creatures away; it is from that I will save thee. 'How shall I protect thee?" The fish replied: While we are small we run great dangers, for fish swallow fish. Keep me at first in a vase;

when I become too large for it dig a basin and put me into it. When I shall have grown still more, throw me into the ocean; then I shall be preserved from destruction.' Soon it grew a large fish. It said to Manu: 'The very year I shall have reached my full growth the deluge shall happen. Then build a vessel and worship me. When the waters rise, enter the vessel and I will save thee.' After keeping him thus Manu carried the fish to the sea. In the year indicated Manu built a vessel and worshiped the fish. And when the deluge came he entered the vessel. Then the fish came swimming up to him, and Manu fastened the cable of the ship to the horn of the fish, by which means the latter made it pass over the Mountain of the North. The fish said: I have saved thee; fasten the vessel to a tree that the water may not sweep it away while thou art on the mountain; and in proportion as the waters decrease thou shalt descend.' Manu descended with the waters, and this is what is called the descent of Manu on the Mountain of the North. The deluge had carried away all creatures, and Manu

remained alone."

The Sac war excitement reached the ears of the Jackson Indians, so that their councils were turned from peace to war. They assembled at intervals round

THE COUNCIL FIRE.

The legislative hall of the Indian had the starry skies for a dome. The wall of night girdled it; the council fire afforded the dusky chiefs and "bucks" sufficient illumination, and brands with which to light the circling pipe. Among the gnarled trees which formed the background the shape of the teepees was defined in the gloom. Wolves were yelping all around. A pack in the immediate vicinity was answered by hundreds of voices from the surrounding darkness.

The old chiefs had been to a council with the white brother. Two suns had passed since their return, laden with presents, which had made the old chiefs' hearts glad, and every young buck in the village envious. One by one the old men rose, their story was told, and each had the same good word to say. The white brother was strong; his number exceeded that of the buffalo (heavy grunts from all sides); he had pony soldiers without number, and walk-aheaps (infantry) till no Indian could count them!--this all by way of indicating how strong the white brother was, also the white brother's heart was very good; he was anxious for peace, and will give the red brother blankets, sugar, spotted buffalo (cattle) and divers other good things. This and much more was gone over by the old chiefs; and when at last they had finished, an unbroken silence prevailed while the pipes passed round the circle many times. Then a young buck arose slowly, and moved swiftly toward the fire. He had but little to say. The old chiefs were very wise. They had the frosts of many winters on their heads. Their teepees were large, and filled with many things which make the heart of an Indian glad. Their ponies were many and fat. They were

known and respected by many great chiefs. Should they be called to journey to the happy hunting-ground, the trail would be an open one, for they would be known from afar. This and much more complimentary talk was gone through. Then comes the gist of the talk. Who knows the Young Elk? No one (grunts all round). He has one pony. The pony is very thin. He has no hope of recognition from the gate-keeper of the happy huntingground. He has nothing in his teepee with which to give welcome to a friend. Then follows an exhibit of poverty which extorts a chorus of grunts from the circle of squatters. The speaker continued. He is not a squaw; his eyes are hurt now by the smoke of the squaws' fires. He is not alone; there are many more young men who are no better off than he. The white brother is a woman; his arm is weak, and his heart is as pale as his face. A man can take from him all that he has, and the big-gun men in the digheap (fort) will give much more. He is done; he will talk no more, but will go and prove that his words are true.

Such is a brief description of the councils held by the Indians in the days of the first settlers, when old Te-cum-qua-see and Wapka-zeek governed the bands then claiming the county as their heritage.

AN INDIAN KILLED BY A STAG.

Early in 1825 an Indian from some distant village was wending his way northward along an unfrequented trail, passing through the present location of Westren's Corners. At sun-down he spread his robe beside his blazing fire, and settled down to that repose to' which his long march entitled him. Presently he saw a stag approaching, and rose to grasp his rifle, but he was too late; the maddened animal rushed at him with a stunning force, and did not cease to belabor the red man with antlers and hoofs until instinct informed him of his victim's death. Indians passed that way when the night was advanced, took in the situation, buried their friend next day, and parted from the solitary grave. The road of the white man was subsequently made, and the bones of

that Indian exhumed.

THE INDIAN BABES.

Nothing excited the curiosity of the wives and daughters of the early settlers more than the Indian pappoose. When the women of the present time read of the manner in which the youthful savage is raised, they will not wonder at the surprise exhibited by the pioneers at the tenderness shown by the Indian mother toward her child, or at the rude cradle in which the aborigines were nursed. It is also well to convey an idea of how the wild woman of the wilderness treated her offspring, because a pleasant and envious notion is entertained here and in other civilized precincts that young In