Morgan County Democrat. (McConnelsville, Ohio) 1886-1943, 1935-05-16

that went over the country at that
time made this their stopping place.
The approach to this travellers Inn
from the east was also attractive.
The road at that time was close to
the house and the traveller would
be greeted with luxurious riot OF
flowers and a well kept lawn which
always seemed to say "You are well
come.'' Many a night Mr.. and Mrs.
Tilden have slept on the floor on
improvised beds to accommodate an
influx of travellers.
This business and the activities
of the farm, proved quite remuner-
ative to Mr.. Tilden. 1t enabled him
to revisit the place of his birth and
the scenes of his childhood in the
state of Maine, which in that day,
was spoken of as. 'way down east
Mr. Tilden had hobby, as we
think everybody should, and that
was swapping knives" Some
times he would get woefully cheat
ed, but he staid in the game. He
showed considerable skill in fixing
them up, putting them in good or
der, and maybe, 'luck,' the next
time, would come his way.
Today, as we see Mr.. Tilden, in
our minds eye, we are led to be-
lieve that he must have been
brought up in Puritan home, at
least; puritanical ideas seem to
have dominated his life. AS to his
religion we think he adhered to the
Baptist faith. Most of these old
homesteads that gave the settle
ment its prestige, have long since
passed into the hands of strangers.
But this one particular farm, the
first to get away, has drifted back
into line of the original owner,
Ezekiel Dye. sr.
After the death of Mr.. and Mrs.
Tilden the farm went to one of the
sons, Ireneus Tilden, and at his
death to his brother Jason. jr., now
deceased, but his estimable wife
(who was Dye, and great grand
daughter of Ezekiel Dye, SRI, is
still living, and resides at old home
today 1t is to her husband Jason
G. Tilden, jr., that we are Indebted
for much of the material gathered
for this little narrative.
Now in conclusion let us take
walk up past this old tavern home
a few hundred yards to the little
burying ground on the hill. From
eminence we lift up our eyes and
look across the valley of Dyes
Fork of Meigs creek, whose waters
are sparkling here and there in the
sunlight, and we survey a large
portion of this once Dye Settle
ment. In the distance can be seen
another old mansion house, a brick
built in the year 1885. whose mas
sfYe stone foundation today. is
challenge to the modern builder.
No disturbing sounds Of highway
traffic reach our cars The quietude
and serenity of this hallowed spot
is unbrOken, save the lowing of dis
tant cattle and bleating of sheep on
the slopes of the green hillsides.
The birds build their nests and
raise their young undisturbed in
bic their carols, while the wind
sighs mournfully through the
boughs of the everereens. playing
funeral dirges to those who sleep
beneath and who We're, century
ago. the dominant spirits of the
community. With barred head and
two flowers in our hand, we ap-
proach the grave Of the old soldier
who carried the musket through the
Revolution to obtain freedom and
independence for himself and pos
terity and afterwards bore the hard
ships and privatiOn of following a
trail into dense and lonely forest
to carve out and establish homes.
where he and his family could
build up and have an Inheritance
for time to come, thus becoming the
first pioneer in this portion of the
new state Of Ohio. A man whose
name should have been perpetuated
by having a share of one syllable at
least in the name of the village that
was once the nucleus of his little
colony. Upon this grave we place a
flower. A few feet away we place an
other flower. This time it is upon
grave of man who rode through
''sun and shade" over a long tor
tuous route exposing himself to the
rigors of changeable climate,
bringing the few messages, in the
form of letters TO those who could
read and write in those days, and
the weekly newspaper to those who
coulu dHofu IL, lnuS establishing
connecting link between small
towns and settlements and putting
the early settlers in touch with the
affairs Of the country. A man, who
by dint d untiring energy, made
for himself home, and when a
traVel-stained stranger appeared at
his door and said, Il am hungry"
the reply, in substance, was, Il will
give you rest"
There Was Room in the Inn.