cer Grinnell, James Gillis (his heirs), O. Hayden, B. H. Hornaman, Tobias Hoonstock, I. P. Hoag, H. W. Hicks, John Hontz, Joel Johnson, James Jones, David Kallen, Jacob Kimmell, Henry Kirtz, Samuel Kirtz, James A. Lee, Jacob Lawyer. David Leminger, James McClellan, James Mather, Dixon Milligan, Madison Morris, Christopher McManus, John McLaughlin, W. and H. A. Martin, Simeon Martin, Jacob Neff, John Neil, Robert Ogle, Rockwell Pratt, James Patterson, Peter Backer, Norton Russell, Jonathan Runkins, Edward Rex, Thomas Sinkey, H. H. Seeley, William Semans, W. B. Stickney, J. B. Snow, Jabez Snow, Charles Sleets, William Sleets, John Skelton, Christopher Singer, David Singer, Alexander Stephens, John Simon, Leonard Sellers, Daniel Tharp, Peter Tucker, William Van Fossen, John J. Webb, John Wenger, H. and O. Wilson, Joseph Whitehall, D. Worley and Philip Zeigler. Not more than twenty of the above men lived in Florence in 1844.

LIFE IN THE BACKWOODS.

Elias Depew and John D. Martin came to the township in the fall of 1835, and erected a saw-mill on Section 36, on the bank of St. Joseph's River. A dam was built across the stream, and a race, extending across a bend of the river, carried water to the wheel that propelled the saw. The mill being the first in all that section of country, was well patronized from the moment the saw began its slow but regular motion. Lumber from this mill was sold for miles around to the first settlers, and was a God-send to those who otherwise would have been compelled to go twice the distance or do without. When it is recollected that roads, at that time, were poor and without bottom, and teams were generally oxen, thin from constant use and insufficient food, and often so weak that they were scarcely able to draw their own weary limbs from the deep and tenacious mud, the great blessing attending the propinquity of stores and mills of all kinds, will be readily realized. Both Martin and Depew erected small residences, in which their families were domesticated. Improvements were slowly conducted on the farms, but the object of Martin and Depew was to found a village, a full account of which is found further along. In 1838, the grist-mill was built on the same dam by these men, and from the start had a fair patronage. The lumber which was used in its construction was sawed at the saw-mill, and of course consisted wholly of native wood. It has been stated that, before the erection of the grist-mill, a small run of buhrs had been placed in the old saw-mill, and used to crack corn for the few families who lived within five or six miles of the place. The facts could not be ascertained. As stated above, Martin sold out his interest in the mills in about 1840, to John Depew, a brother of Elias, but about four years later the brothers

transferred their interests in the same to William Semans. After a few years the mills were again sold, and continued, from this onward, operating under various ownerships, and doing, at times, excellent work, until about the time of the last war, when the dam was destroyed, and has not since been rebuilt. In early years the mills were widely known, more, perhaps, from the accommodation afforded settlers, than from any capital merit of the flour ground or lumber sawed. Great trouble was experienced in preserving the dam in times of high water, owing to the sandy nature of the soil used in its construction. The mills would not have been successful, solely on this account, had it not been for the excellent patronage extended them.

INCIDENTS OF PIONEER LIFE.

John Cass (or Case, as it appears on the tax duplicate) was in the township in 1837. Himself and family established themselves in a little log cabin on Section 1, where they resided a few months, and then left the township. This settler is said to have been a relative of Gov. Cass, of Michigan. David Singer, Sr., deserves more credit than perhaps any other man for the hardships himself and family endured, to create a home in the dense forests of Florence. Mr. Singer came to this part of the State in 1836, locating his farm on Section 9, and during the winter of 1836-37, erected a log cabin about forty rods north of where his son now lives. In the meantime, his family lived a short time at Denmark, and later with Robert McDaniel, who then lived on Section. 30, Superior Township. In February, 1837, the family took up their residence in their new home, on Section 9. They were very poor. as almost everybody was then, but they had good health, and did not hesitate to face a reasonable amount of privation and toil. At that time there was not a neighbor residing any nearer them than five miles, and their little home was surrounded on all sides by an almost impassable wilderness, filled with wild and savage beasts, and with scarcely less savage Indians. It was all the family could do at first to live. At one time, for four weeks, they lived without any bread whatever, their only food consisting of rice soup and wild meat. They had a little money, and tried at one time to buy a small quantity of potatoes that had had the eyes cut out, but failed, as the man said, "I will not sell, as I can live on potatoes without eyes, but cannot on money." Finally, Mr. Singer started to mill with his grist on his back, going first to Denmark (the Martin & Depew Mill not having yet been erected), but failing there, he went on to Jacob Dillman's, who could not help him, and thence on to Brunersburgh. At the expiration of almost a week, he returned home, carrying seventy pounds on his back, and being completely worn out with his load and with fasting. These extreme privations did not last long,

fortunately, for if they had, the family would have gone back to their old home farther East. They soon were enabled to feed and clothe themselves, and were then about as well situated as most of the earliest settlers. There was no such thing as caste in early times; the settlers were like brothers, for all were poor. Mr. Singer became belated in returning home one night from Denmark, and a heavy storm coming on, he became bewildered and lost. In vain he endeavored to trace his way, as the thick darkness and heavy rain descended. The more he tried the more uncertain he became that he was moving in the right direction. At last he saw that the wisest course was to sit down on a log and wait, either until he was certain of his steps, or until morning had dawned. There he sat all night long, with the cold rain beating upon him, and the dreary winds sweeping by him in chilling gusts and eddies. When morning dawned, he was soon beside a roaring fire, something which every settler had, with no cost save labor. After a few years, the Singers were in better circumstances. They, on one occasion, owned a fine sow, which had a large family of pigs, and these animals were permitted to sleep against the side of the cabin (on the outside), that they might be protected from wolves and bears. One dark night, when Mr. Singer was away, and no one was at home save Mrs. Singer and her little children, the wolves, rendered desperate by hunger, came up to the cabin to attack the sow and pigs. Mrs. Singer resolutely sallied forth with a large fire brand, and drove them away, but they returned, and were again driven away, and then the settler's wife saw that, if she saved her animals, she must guard them with fire all night. A fire was kindled near the cabin, close to the swine, and was kept replenished all night, but the sow and pigs were saved. Such incidents as this were common.

HUNTING EXPLOITS.

Mr. Singer, though not the best hunter in the world (as the expression goes), was quite skillful with his rifle, and generally kept his cabin supplied with wild meat. He killed many deer and a few bears. One day, while he was at work in the woods near his cabin, he was approached by Phillip Nihart, who hurriedly told him that he had treed a bear out in the woods about half a mile distant, and wanted his assistance in killing it. The two settlers, armed for the fight, went to the tree as fast as they could, and found the animal still in the branches. A couple of shots brought it to the ground, dead. On another occasion, not far from the year 1845, Mrs. Singer, who was standing outside her cabin, saw some black animal, about as large as a small dog, walking on the top of a rail fence near by. She approached, and saw with surprise that it was a cub. Calling to her husband, and two or three other men who were chopping

near:

"Here's a bear! here's a bear!" she ran up and caught the little animal by the back of the neck, and, despite its growls and struggles, ran with it to the cabin. The men came up, and, after a few minutes talk, came to the natural conclusion that the mother of the cub was not far distant, and resolved to find her, if possible. The next day, the men, while hunting, found a hollow tree that looked as if it might contain a bear. One of them began cutting it down, and, while thus at work, scared a porcupine, which ran out of a big hole high up in the tree. The men at first thought that this must be the animal that had made the scratches on the sides of the tree; but, the tree was so near down, the cutting was continued; and the first thing the chopper knew the report of a rifle rang out on the air, and a large bear fell to the ground within five feet of him, dead. The animal had come out of the opening above, and was seen by Mr. Singer, who brought it to the ground with one shot. The cub was kept for some time, and finally sold for 50 cents, and taken East. Mr. Singer was quite a bee-hunter, and his cabin table was often graced with a fine dish of strained or candied honey. One day, the Indians, who were encamped on the creek about thirty rods east of David Singer, Jr.'s, present residence, wounded a bear, which crawled into a large hollow log, and could not be dislodged. One of their number, who had come from Canada, and whom they did not like, was told that he was too cowardly to enter the log by crawling, and pull the wounded bear out by the leg. It was thought still alive, and full of fight. After a little time, he entered the log head first, and soon emerged, pulling the animal, which was dead, out by the leg. One day, one of the Indians got drunk, and declared that he would kill his squaw, and proceeded to put his threat into execution. Several Indians came to Mr. Singer, and begged him to interfere, which he accordingly did, and, with their help, bound the desperate savage hand and foot. The mosquitoes were very bad, and pestered the captive to such an extent that he soon came to his senses, and demanded that his bonds be taken off; but, this was refused, until his complete sobriety was assured, and his promises were given that he would behave himself. Mrs. Singer smoked, every year, many venison hams on shares for the Indians. John Singer and David Singer, Jr., one day wounded a deer, and, while trying to cut its throat, were knocked back by the animal, which sprang to its feet, and ran off through the woods. It was afterward caught, with the assistance of the dogs. The Singer family had, for years, a pet deer, with a bell around its neck, which was used as a decoy in hunting. It would meet other deer in the woods, and bring them close to the cabin, when they could easily be shot from some concealment. Samuel Cain, now living in the western part of Northwest Township, located in the township near Union Corners in

While

1838. He tells several interesting hunting incidents. One day, he broke an ox-yoke, and went to William Van Fossen's to get another. on the way, his dog discovered a cub, and chased it, growling, into the top of a tree. The mother bear appeared upon the scene at this juncture, and charged furiously upon the dog, which nimbly got out of her way. She passed close to Mr. Cain, who swung his hat at her, causing her to veer around him. She ran into a swamp, and was seen no more. Mr. Cain had no gun, but he went some distance and called to Clark's boys, of Superior Township, who came up and shot the cub. On still another occasion, Mr. Cain, John Anspaugh and Jacob Anspaugh were walking in the fresh snow, near the tamarack swamp, in the northeast corner of the township, when they discovered a fresh bear track. They immediately called their dogs, which followed the bear into the swamp, and soon treed it there. John Anspaugh was the first one to reach the tree, and, at the first shot, he brought the animal to the ground. It proved to be a young bear, and its flesh was very tender and sweet. Many stories, similar to the above, might be narrated, but this will suffice to show what sport the early settlers enjoyed.

GENERAL GROWTH OF THE TOWNSHIP.

From 1844 to 1855, the settlement and improvement of Florence was most rapid. All the soil was taken up largely by actual residents, and the heavy forests went down before the ax of the executioner. At first cabins were set in small clearings, where the standing trees were only sufficiently far away to insure the safety of the families from falling trees in case of a severe storm. Such clearings were dotted with stumps and heaps of branches, limbs, roots and logs; but as time passed on, the results of constant industry were visible in broad fields without a stump or an encumbering heap of dead forest remains. Crops became more abundant; the acreage of grain and other farm productions rapidly multiplied; success in the creation of homes became assured; competence slowly took the place of want; roads were established and bridges built; wet tracts of land were reclaimed by wise systems of drainage; the causes of malarial ills were largely removed; sufficient, comfortable, and even fashionable clothing usurped the place of buckskin and "linseywoolsey;" larger and better residences drove the primitive log-cabins to decay and ruin, but not forgetfulness; stores and mills were established at cross-roads and along well-traveled highways; and schools and churches came to strengthen the intellectual and moral being. The early settlement of the township was quite equally distributed, as, in 1845, rude log cabins could be seen every mile or two within its limits. One of the most striking features of the early settlement and improvement was the