I have fertilized
above ninety flowers, trying all the eighteen distinct crosses
which are possible within the limits of this one species. For
the love of heaven, have a look at some of your species, and if
you can get me some seed, do."
ROCKYFORD CAVES
Here in one of the most charming spots that Nature gave to this
scenic Ohio region dwelt a being - a wretch - by the name of
McKinney, the tales of whose terrible deeds recall the gruesome
acts of the days of the Inquisition or the horrible tortures of
the fierce Iroquois. In one of the caves embowered in this leafy
wilderness, where the rays of the noonday sun scarce ever fall
and there reigns perpetually a cavernous gloom, dwelt this bold
robber. Only the complaining water of a brook as it slipped over
the polished stones or the song of the birds broke the silence
of this solitude. Here we listened to a thrilling story, told by
a middle-aged lady, of one of the many horrid deeds committed by
this Ohio robber.
In the near vicinity lived two old people, who represented that
worthy class of pioneers whose strength of character and noble
self-sacrifice formed a fit corner stone upon which to build
such a glorious state. The old gentleman was a stock buyer, and
on the morning of that particular day of which our tale relates
he had received a large sum of money (large for those times) and
returned to his home late that afternoon. It was too near night
to distribute the money among the various farmers. After
consulting his good wife as to the best place for secreting it
he decided to bury the money in the ground beneath the puncheon
floor. Raising one or two of the huge planks, while his wife
kept watch from the doorway of their cabin, the old gentleman
dug a small hole in the ground and deposited the pouch which
held the money. Smoothing over the place he carefully relaid the
rough-hewn puncheon and, with an air of satisfaction in a work
well performed, he left the cabin to do his evening chores,
while the good housewife busied herself in preparing their
frugal meal.
The work being done the old man returned to the house where in
the twilight they ate their corn bread and potatoes with a
relish that only those who labor may know. The last faint notes
of the woodthrush came softly from the shadowy ravine, robins
caroled in chorus, then they, too, became silent.
Late in the afternoon from his leafy covert (one of the numerous
places found in this region, overlooking the road) peered the
treacherous eyes of this bold highwayman. Here he awaited the
coming of the twilight, patiently, silently, for he knew that
the old man was alone, and like a fierce wild beast, he did not
stir from his retreat until the gleam of light from the cabin
door announced his hour had come. Leaving his hiding-place, he
gazed through the deepening dusk and ever and anon glanced over
his shoulder, as might a criminal who is fleeing from his
pursuers.
Stealthily he approached the cabin, where the two old people
were made plainly visible by the lamp and the warm, ruddy glow
of the fireplace. With silent tread he entered the peaceful
abode, and drew a pistol on the old couple, who stood up
speechless and horror stricken before him. He demanded the
money, which he very well knew the old man had received, but
neither the man nor his wife would inform him of its
whereabouts; whereupon he seized the old man and bound and
gagged him. Then threatening the old lady with vile oaths, he
tried to frighten her into revealing the secret hiding place,
but to no avail. Seizing her, he securely bound her, with a
horrible threat of pushing her into the glowing fireplace, but
to no purpose.
Having the two forms prostrate upon the floor, he shoved their
feet into the fire, removing the gags now and then so they could
speak and disclose the secret he so vainly strove to force from
theist. Removing the gag from the old man for the second time he
found that he had fainted. He gave him a toss and a rude kick,
leaving him to lie lifeless, as he thought, upon the floor.
Turning again to the old lady, he pulled her lack from the fire
and removed her gag, threatening to again torture her if she
persisted in refusing to reveal the secret. Although her feet
were horribly burned by the coals and her suffering was so
intense that her whole frame shook convulsively with the
inexpressible pain she endured, she remained silent. His
barbarous attempts proved of no avail.
Unbinding the old lady he left her alone with the still form of
the old man lying as dead before her. Painfully she hobbled to
the well after releasing his bonds and brought water, with the
aid of which she revived him. The old man lived only a short
time, but his wife recovered to tell of that thrilling night to
her grand children.
"Those people were my grand parents," continued the lady who
related the story.
CHILLICOTHE
At Chillicothe still stands the magnificent old elm under which
Logan, that gentle, noble Mingo chief sat, "while he told the
story of his wrongs in language which cannot be forgotten as
long as men have hearts to thrill for other's sorrows."
"I appeal to any white man to say if ever he entered Logan's
cabin and I gave him not meat; if ever he came cold and naked
and I gave him not clothing. During the course of the last long
and bloody war Logan remained in his tent, an advocate of peace.
Nay, such was my love for the whites that those of my own
country pointed at me as they passed and said, 'Logan is the
friend of the white man.' I had even thought to live with you
but for the injuries of one man, Colonel Cresap, who last
spring, in cold blood and unprovoked, cut off all the relatives
of Logan, not sparing even my women and children.
