Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1895-11-16
LEGEND OF INDIAN HILL.
by JESSIE M. TREsHAM.


green and fertile, broadening as the
stream approaches it's outlet, the
mighty Ohio, and hemmed in by chains
of rugged hills.
The stream derives it's name from the
fact that, prior to the time of the first
white settlers, this valley was favor
ite hunting ground of many Indian
tribes of the Ohio valley. Traces of
their occupancy still remain. The
farmer yet upturns the ashes of their
camp6res and their implements of war
with his plowshare. And, on hill
overlooking the river not far from its
mouth, are the graves of many of the
race.
Most of the traditions have long since
been forgotten, but one concerning
this spot is still preserved. Once in the
early days of the white settlement,
large party of Indians came into the
valley to hunt, and one night encamped
on Indian hill. That night band of
unprincipled white men fell upon their
unguarded camp, and massacred the
entire party. Not one escaped to tell
the story of the murder. The chief, a
warrior, who had always shown great
friendship for the whites, was taken
mortally wounded before the leader of
the attacking party. With the dignity
of his race, he raised his head, and
looked with scorn into the faces of his
captors. Then with his last breath, he
invoked curse upon each OF them-a
death by violence.
So goes the legend. There remains
to prove its truth the hill whose stony
soil stubbornly refuses to yield any
crop but desolate patches of broomsedge
and few stunted cedar shrubs-the
effect of the curse, the country people
say. The same authorities tell us that
there on stormy nights the old chief may
be seen walking among the graves of
his warriors. And he who sees the
ghostly sentinel is sure soon to meet
with some misfortune.
The owner of the soil of this historic
spot was wealthy farmer named Ford.
His title deeds covered many acres Of
fertile valley aud valuable forest land.
But he had one possession which was
dearer to him than field and woodland
his daughter Winnie.
Winnie was a pretty and rather
spoiled young woman of eighteen.
Since the death of her mother, few
years before, she had been practically
her own mistress, for her father never
crossed her will either concerning her
own affairs or those of the household.
1t is not strange, therefore, that Miss
Winnie was somewhat proud and will
full. Many country youth sadly real
lied this, and from distance admired
the heiress of the Ford acres.
All but one; that one was Bobb Carr,
the only son of a neighboring farmer,
whose land joined Mr.. Ford's, and
almost equaled it in extent. Bob was
a tall and awkward youth of twenty
one, with an incipient mustache and
plenty of conceit. He was desperately
in love with Winnie. The frequent
snubbings he received did not quench
his ardor in the least. Besides, Bob
was encouraged by the knowledge that
Mr.. Ford favored his suit. For the
farmer, having in mind the consolida-
tion of the two largest farms in the
valley, really considered Bob good
match for his daughter.
"See here" he said to her one day.
''If that young Carr comes here to see
you, want you to treat him well. Do
you hear?" "Yes," replied Winnie
shortly, with toss of her head indica-
ting that she would consult her own in
clinations.
So Bob called at the farmhouse to be
received by the farmer with the utmost
cordiality and by his daughter with the
most freezing coldness. But, confident
of his ultimate success, he kept up his
unwelcome attentions.
That winter, the little school in the
valley was taught by young man
named Ridley MeKendrick. Ridley was
an ambitious young fellow, striving to
pay his way through college, after the
fashion of so many successful men, by
teaching. AS Mr.. Ford's house was
nearest the school, Ridley boarded
there.
1t was not long before he and Winnie
became quite well acquainted. They
discovered that their literary tastes
were similar, and spent many of the
long winter evenings reading and dis
cussing some favorite novel or poem.
Mr.. Ford would sit by, and watch them
sharply through his glasses. Often it
occurred to him that it was not safe to
allow this handsome young man to be
with his daughter SO much. But, he
reassured himself, no harm could possi-
bly, come of it, so long as he was pres
ent, and their conversation did Dot wan
der from the subject of books.
Ah! Mr. Ford, you had forgotten
that look may sometimes convey a
meaning deeper than words, and that
the young man could read the storied
hero's words with such feeling and in
such tone that they became his own.
Boo, who often dropped in of an even
ing, realizing something of this as he
sat and listened, wished that he ap-
preciated poetry, and that that con-
founded girl would be as agreeable to
him as to the schoolmaster
Mr.. Ford was not entirely blind, and
at last spoke to Winnie, intending to