Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1886-11-25

Various and conflicting accounts are given OF
the place and manner Of his death-the most
reasonable one that he was killed at Proctor's
defeat on the river Thames, being cut to
pieces by Colonel Johnson's mounted men.
But with this we have nothing 10 do. The
tradition and the superstition is that his
ghost for many years has haunted this his
earthly home and is said to still 'revisit thus
the pale glimpses of the moon."
The boat moves up and anchors by the
Island. And here, too, is a picture! Civiliza-
ton and barbarism, not blended but side by
side; nature wild and as she blooms in her
virgin pride, and art, cultivation, husbandry
and comfort, separated only by line! The
East half of the Island is still as it was when
Girty sought retreat and shelter here, and
calls to mind Goldsmith's picture of the pros
pective home of the villagers of Auburn:
"Those matted wood where birds forget to sing,
But silelt bats in drovsy clusters cling
| Those poisonous fields, with rank luSuriance
crownd,
Where the dark scorpion gathers death around;
Where at each step the stranger fears to wake
The rattliug terrors of the vengeful snake;
Where crouching tigers wait tn cir hapless prey,
nd savage men, more murderous sti IL than they!'
The West half is under high state of cul-
tivation, with comfortable residence and all
the conveniencss of life Its fertility and
productiveness is unsurpassed, but perhaps
not much in excess os the soil of the entire
Valley. On the North bank of the river,
where the Miami and Erie canal now drags
its muddy water, on the 10Th of August, 1884,
Mad Anthony Wayne and his men, on their
way from Ft. Defiance to fight at Fallen
Timbers, paused to gaze upon this beautiful
home of the outlaw, and no doubt stimulated
their heroism and whetted their appetite for
vengeance by a recollection of his deeds of
barbarity and cruelty.
We disembark, pitch our tent on the Island
and prepare for supper. The mate rial is
handy, fire is soon started, the utensils are
put in place; Good Appetite is cook, and that
is notice that nc French one need apply.
Potatoes are roasted in the hot ashes, Ia
Gen. Marion; beef stake is broiled on the end
of stick; fish are rolled in wetted paper and
cooked in hot ashes and Goals, while the cof-
fee is boiled in tin kettle suspended over
the fire. If any epicure should think that
such supper is not palatable, let him try it
and he would not exchange it for one of
Delmonico's best plates.
The supper finished, our blankets are
spread for the night and we are seated around
the camp fire, pipes lighted cards ready, and
prepared for the evenings amusement after
the days sport, when voice calls from the
Southern shore and asks to be brought over
and join us for the evening. A boat is sent
and in a short time returns with
A STRANGER,
who without ceremony seats himself among
us and makes himself at home. He is about
five feet six inches in height, small of form
and light of weight; his hair is thin and gray,
his beard long and white; his clothing Of in
different fit, minated, coarse and worn. There
is nothing remarkable about him but his
aged look, and this is most remarkable. His
age does not seem like that of ordinary aged
several generations. He does not notice our
quizzlng looks, but, in voice that sounds
like voice from the grave, asks for food
and drink. This is cheerfully furnished, and
while the old man refreshes himself our
curiosity increases. At length he has finish
ed, he thanks US, seats himself on log by
the fire, and begins to talk.
What the old man said will be told in a
subsequent number of the NORTHWEST.