twenty-one cattle, the tax being $2.35. At this time there were not more than twelve families living in the township.

THE FIRST SETTLER.

As near as can be learned, the first settler in the township was Aaron Burr Goodwin, about whose life a great deal of romance and mystery lingers. He was a man of fine education, was an excellent surveyor, and for years before the settlement of the township had been an Indian trader in Michigan, Indiana and Ohio. He was possessed of a violent temper, which, when kindled, raged like a conflagration within him. He was brave, but cautious, and was wholly unscrupulous in his dealings, not only with the Indians, but also with the white settlers who were associated with him. He appeared in the township as early as the autumn of 1837, and might have been in a year or two before, as the exact time of his arrival could not be determined. He had taken two orphan children (a girl and a boy) from Cleveland, Ohio, to rear. The girl, Anna, afterward became the wife of Hiram Russell, who owned the land in the extreme northwest corner of the township, upon which the log cabin of Goodwin was located. The cabin was situated about forty rods northwest of the present residence of the old settler, Aldis Johnson, and was within about forty rods of the State lines of both Ohio and Indiana. Goodwin was an experienced gun-smith, and derived no little revenue from the Indians in tinkering their guns. He kept powder and lead, tobacco, calico, whisky and various trinkets and ornaments for the Indian trade. He kept just such things as the Indians must have, and, when his unscrupulous character and violent disposition are taken into consideration, the result of his constant intercourse with the red men may be easily guessed. His business was to take constant advantage of their wants by getting them drunk, and fleecing them to the uttermost farthing of their annuities and their valuable furs. He had many severe altercations with them, but managed to shield himself and his property from their attacks. It is said that he once shot an Indian whom he found stealing his potatoes, though this circumstance is purely traditionary. He told Aldis Johnson that on one occasion he succeeded in getting one hundred Indians drunk in the woods near his cabin, at which time he cheated them of large quantities of valuable skins and furs. One of the Indians, when thus drunk, was ugly, and wanted more whisky, but was refused. He drew his tomahawk and struck a violent blow at Goodwin; but the latter avoided the stroke, and sprang into the cabin, quickly closing and barring the door. The infuriated Indian split the door down with his tomahawk, but was driven away by the rifle of Goodwin. On another occasion a very untractable and savage Indian was cheated of an unusually large and fine

bear skin, whereupon he threatened to kill Goodwin at the first opportunity. The Indian, whose name was Big Jack, was one of the most desperate and revengeful of his band, and was greatly feared by Goodwin, who knew that he would lose no chance of putting his threat into direful execution. This threat and other hostile demonstrations from Indians who had been cheated and abused, rendered the situation of Goodwin precarious, and he became very cautious in all his movements. He scarcely dared to venture from his cabin at night, and was constantly on his guard during his cabin at night, and was constantly on his guard during the day. This led to the report that he was cowardly, but precisely the reverse was the case. He was simply prudent, and had reason to be so. At last, when he found that Big Jack was slowly and stealthily getting the advantage of him, he offered Thomas Knight a $10 gold-piece to shoot the Indian, but the latter refused to commit the murder. went on without any serious occurrence until a short time afterward, when the removal of the Indians westward terminated the siege of Goodwin's cabin. Goodwin had formerly lived, it is said, near Jackson, Mich., where he had been an Indian trader. He was for a time mail-carrier in that section of country, and carried the valuables of Uncle Sam in his hat, if reports are reliable. After a residence in the township of some six or eight years, he moved to Iowa or Illinois. His subsequent movements are unknown.

THE POTTAWATOMIES.

Events

Previous to about the year 1843, members of the above tribe habitually encamped temporarily in the vicinity of Nettle Lake, around which, in the swamps, almost every species of wild game could be found. On the old Knight homestead, just north of the lake, was a spot where the Indians had assembled at certain seasons for many years. Wigwams of bark and poles had been constructed, which survived the intervals of nonoccupancy, and were soon made tenantable for the Indians by coverings. of skins and fresh supplies of basswood bark. Any abundance of fine fish inhabited the lake, and afforded an excellent variation in the limited food for the Indian. Along the shores of the lake, finding a home in the swamps, minks and otters dwelt; and, it is said by Thomas Knight, a few beavers also were there. The township was one unbroken forest of heavy timber, except in the southwestern part, where, on the sandy soil, were a few oak openings. Considerable swampy land was to be seen, more than at present, as the ax of the husbandman has remorselessly leveled scores of acres of magnificent natural forests, and the rays of the sun, unchecked by the natural covering of the soil, have drank up the superficial waters. Not a road was to be seen, but here and there, throughout the tangled wildwood, old and well-traveled Indian trails wound

around on the higher lands, centering at the permanent and temporary villages. Hundreds of deer wandered through the township, browsing on the rich verdure of grass and bush. Packs of ravenous wolves infested

the woods, chasing down deer or other inoffensive animals, and filling the affrighted air of night with their wild and discordant music. Panthers and catamounts were sometimes heard at night, uttering their peculiar and terrifying cries. Bears were frequently seen, walking the kings of the woods. Nothing human was to be found, save the few bands of Indians who were almost as wild as their daily companions, the beasts. Dangerous and venomous reptiles inhabited every acre of land, and all was silence and solitude. This was the Northwest Township of forty-five years ago. Goodwin was the first man to herald a change, but soon after him came

THE SECOND SETTLER.

In September, 1838, James Knight, with his sons Thomas, Philip, Samuel, James and Joshua, established himself in a rude log cabin about eighty rods north of Nettle Lake. He was a professional hunter, but soon after his arrival became afflicted with white swelling in the hip, which rendered him almost helpless, and from which he never fully recovered. Much of the care of the family fell upon Thomas, who became one of the most expert hunters and trappers ever in the township. At that period, an experienced hunter and trapper could make five times as much money as he could who turned his attention to farming. Deer skins sold quite readily at $1 each; bear skins at from $3 to $8; and the furs of the mink, otter or raccoon, at from 50 cents to $5. These facts caused the Knight boys to spend almost their entire time in the wonderfully exciting sport of hunting, trapping and fishing. They carried flintlock rifles, and always went armed with huge knives. The lake was a great resort for deer, which came there in the night to drink. spent many a night upon the lake hunting these animals. That was a strange place to hunt deer, but the old settler will readily understand what it means. A canoe was made of some large log, and provided with oars. A large beeswax candle was made, and fastened in a socket on the bow of the canoe. Just back of it, a large piece of bark was fastened upright in such a manner as to conceal the occupants of the boat. When darkness had descended, two of the boys, thoroughly armed, would enter the canoe, and silently and slowly row along the margin of the lake. Deer that had come to drink would stand motionless in the edge of the water, staring, apparently fascinated, at the light, until the canoe would almost touch them. It was an easy matter then for the hunters from their concealment to shoot the deer. In this manner, five or six were killed in a single evening by Thomas and Philip Knight, and doubtless

The boys

by others of the first settlers. One evening, while thus engaged, Thomas shot and wounded a very large buck, which ran up the bank a few yards and stopped. The canoe was darted to the shore, and Thomas sprang out and up the bank after the wounded animal. He came to it almost immediately, and instantly seized it by the antlers; but the animal made a lunge, pinning the hunter fast against a tree. He shouted for help, but ere his brother could arrive, the wounded buck fell upon the ground in the agonies of death. The wound had been mortal. Thomas became an expert trapper of raccoon and mink. He used an ingenious wooden trap which held the animals securely. The most money he made in any one day through his prowess as a hunter and trapper was $11.50, as follows:

A BEAR STORY.

One day Thomas Knight went out to inspect his pole traps, which had been set for raccoon. He had many in the woods near his father's cabin, and expected to bring in five or six skins that morning. While he was walking along in the direction of his destination, he suddenly heard quite a noise off at one side, and looking in that direction saw what at the first glance appeared to be an Indian pony. Nothing but the back of the animal was visible above the intervening clump of bushes, and without thinking much about the subject, the hunter continued his walk. A moment later he glanced around for the second time, and was astonished and somewhat frightened to see walking directly toward him the largest bear he had ever before encountered. The animal was some distance away, and had not yet observed the hunter, as it was moving almost directly toward him. Knight instantly concealed himself and examined the priming of his rifle, and, finding it all right, anxiously awaited the re-appearance of the bear. A minute later it came leisurely along, and when it had approached within easy rifle shot, the hunter took careful aim, and pulled the trigger. The sharp report was followed by a terrific growling and tearing of the leaves and bushes, and the hunter began loading with his utmost dispatch to be in readiness, if necessary, for a second shot. About the time the loading was finished the noise ceased, and, when Knight looked out, he saw the huge animal lying motionless on the ground. The bear proved to be one of the largest of its kind, and was found to weigh almost five hundred pounds. When alive, it had stood at least three feet in height, and was a formidable animal for a hunter to encounter. The rifle ball-a heavy one-had struck a vital part, and it was lucky for Knight that it had done so. The skin sold for $8, and, when to this amount the value of the skins of the raccoons he caught during the day was added, the total footed up to $11.50. The fore paw of this bear was taken to Columbus, Ohio, and for many years could be seen

in a museum in that city. Mr. Knight contracted to clear ten acres of timber land for some man just across the line in Indiana, for which he was to receive as payment a large fine sow-the prospective mother of a numerous family. While cutting on this tract of timber one day, he suddenly heard his sow, off some distance in the woods, begin to squeal in the greatest distress, and, surmising the cause, he seized his rifle and started at his best pace in the direction whence the sounds proceeded. He soon reached the spot, and beheld a scene which roused every fiber of courage and passion within him. A large, savage-looking bear had seized his sow, and was tearing her in pieces alive. A great rent had been torn in the tender flesh near the loin; and when the enraged owner reached the spot, panting, on the run, the bear angrily raised its head with a furious growl, showing two rows of gleaming teeth, discolored with blood. Without a moment's hesitation, the enraged owner raised his rifle to his eye and fired, and a half ounce of lead went crashing through the brain of the bear, entering at the eye and emerging at the base of the skull. The huge animal released its hold and dropped upon the ground, and after a few feeble kicks, lay motionless and dead. The unfortunate sow was so mangled that she died soon afterward. Such scenes were often enacted in early years, and many incidents of a similar nature might be related. There was scarcely an early family that did not have swine killed by bears.

THE WAY TO TRAP A BEAR.

One evening, when the country was new, Mrs. Aldis Johnson, then a little girl, the daughter of Mr. Myers, who lived just across the line in Michigan, was sent a short distance to bring up the cows which were in sight. She soon returned with the animals, and reported that she had seen a bear; but her folks thought she must be mistaken, and paid little heed to her statements. That night a great commotion among their swine convinced her folks that the little girl had not been mistaken, and when the morning dawned, and search was instituted, the half-eaten carcass of a hog was found in the woods where the squealing had been heard. It was concluded to build a "dead-fall " trap to catch the bear if possible, and, accordingly, H. C. Johnson, brother of Aldis, proceeded to construct one after the following fashion: A log about a foot in diameter was fastened upon the ground at a suitable place, and wooden pins were driven into holes bored on the upper side, after which the upper ends of the pins were sharpened. Another log fully as large was partly suspended over the lower one, and provided on the lower side with sharpened pins as above described. A trigger was made and baited with a portion of the dead hog, and arranged in such a manner that the bear must stand directly over the lower log and under the upper to secure the meat. To get the bait the bear must nec