At the outbreak of the war of 1812, there were 1,000 warriors inhabiting the shores from Lake St. Clair to Michilimackinac. The Indian population of this district was about 5,000 souls. In 1847, there were only 208 Indians of the Chippewas at Swan Creek and Black River, of all ages and sexes, subsisting by agriculture and fishing.

The following brief speech was made by Sastarexy, chief of the Hurons, to La Motte, the French Commandant at Detroit. It had reference to the giving up, on the part of the Outawas, of Le Pesant, called The Bear, to atone for his murderous acts among the Miamis. Sastarexy did not believe that this great bear, so dreaded by the Indians, would be given into their hands. He was for wreaking his vengeance on some of the enemy that were at hand. Le Pesant was at Mackinac. He adddressed La Motte as follows: "My Father—Let us say to you that we cannot believe that the Outawas will do what they have promised; for who is he that can overturn so great a tree (Le Pesant), whose roots, they themselves say, are so deep in the earth, and whose branches extend over all the lakes? There is meat here; why go farther to seek it? One is certain, the other is uncertain."

The following is the closing of a speech made by Logan, a chief of the Cayugas, after all his relatives had been murdered in cold blood, without provocation, by Col. Cresap, a white man:

"There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature. This called on me for revenge. I have sought it. I have killed many. I have fully glutted my vengeance. For my country I rejoice at the beams of peace; but do not harbor a thought that mine is the joy of fear. Logan never felt fear. He will not turn on his heel to save his life. Who is there to mourn for Logan? Not one!"

The following is Black Hawk's speech, after he had failed to effect the deliverance of his people: Farewell, my nation! Black Hawk tried to save you, and revenge your wrongs. He drank the blood of some of the whites. He has been taken prisoner, and his flames are stopped. He can do no more. He is near his end. His sun is setting, and he will rise no more. Farewell to Black Hawk."

REIGN OF THE CHOLERA.

The cholera entered the Indian settlements in 1823-24, and tended to increase the prevailing dread of some impending disaster. Providence, however, ruled that the pioneers should suffer alone from financial reverses, while the Indians should be carried away by disease. A large number of the doomed race then dwelling in the county perished; many fled to the wilderness to seek a hiding place, where the Great Spirit could not find them to pursue them with his vengeance. Even the wild woods did not shelter the poor savages from the terrible scourge. Throughout the forest, along the banks of each river and stream, the echoes of their dismal shrieks resounded, for a short while, and then died away in death. Happy Indians! They survived not to witness the sacred circles of their fathers, the burial grounds of their race, upturned by the plow, or covered with the homes and factories of civilized man; they were spared at least this last and most terrible affliction. The soldiers were attacked by the disease at Fort Gratiot in 1832. The poor fellows, flying from the pestilence, found a resting place near the houses of the settlers, while many died in the forest.

PIONEER MANNERS AND CUSTOMS.

HE first and most important business of the pioneer upon his arrival was to build a house. only shelter they had known for weeks. So the prospect for a house, which was also to be a home, was one that gave courage to the rough toil, and added a zest to the heavy labors. The style of the home entered very little into their thoughts. It was shelter they wanted, and protection from stress of weather and wearing exposures. The poor settler had neither the money nor the mechanical appliances for building himself a house. He was content, in most instances, to have a mere cabin or hut—some of the most primitive constructions of this kind were half-faced, or as they were sometimes called "cat-faced sheds or wike-ups," the Indian term for tent or hut. It is true, a "claim" cabin was a little more in the shape of a human habitation, made, as it was, of round logs, light enough for two or three men to lay up, about fourteen feet square—perhaps a little larger or smaller—roofed with bark or clapboards, and sometimes with the sods of the prairie, and floored with puncheons (log split once in two, and the flat side laid up), or with earth. For a fire-place, a wall of stones and earth--frequently the latter only, when stone was not convenient was made in the best practicable shape for the purpose, in an opening in one end of the building, extending outward, and planked on the outside by bolts of wood notched together to stay it. Frequently a fire-place of this kind was made so capacious as to occupy nearly the whole width of the house. In cold weather, when a great deal of fuel was needed to keep the atmosphere above freezing point for (his wide-mouthed fire-place was a huge ventilator—large logs were piled into the yawning space. To protect the crumbling back-wall against the effects of fire, two back logs were placed against it, one upon the other. Sometimes these were so large that they could not be got in in any other way than to hitch a horse to them. The animal was driven in at the door, when the log was unfastened before the fire-place. It was afterward put in position. The horse would be driven out at another door. For a chimney, any contrivance that would convey the smoke out of the building would do. Some were made of sods, plastered on the inside with clay; others--the more common, perhaps were of the kind we occasionally see in use now, clay in sticks, or cat in clay," as they were sometimes called. Imagine, of a winter's night, when the storm was having its own wild way over this almost uninhabited land, and when the wind was roaring like a cataract of cold over the broad wilderness, and the settler had to do his best to keep warm, what a royal fire this double back-log and well-filled fire-place would hold! It was a cozy place to smoke, provided the settler had any tobacco; or for the wife to sit knitting before, provided she had any needles and yarn. At any rate, it gave something of cheer to the conversation, which very likely was upon the home and friends they had left behind when they started out on this bold venture of seeking fortunes in a new land.

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For doors and windows, the most simple contrivances that would serve the purpose were brought into requisition. The door was not always immediately provided with a shutter, and a blanket often did duty in guarding the entrance. But as soon as convenient, some boards were split and put together, hung upon wooden hinges and held shut by a wooden pin inserted in an auger hole. As a substitute for window glass, greased paper, pasted over sticks crossed in the shape of a sash, was sometimes used. This admitted the light and excluded the air, but, of course, lacked transparency. In regard to the furniture of such a cabin, it varied in proportion to the ingenuity of the occupants, unless it was when settlers brought with them their old household supply, which, owing to the distance some of them had come, was very seldom. It was easy enough to provide tables and chairs; the former could be made of split logs—and there are instances where the door would be taken from its hinges and used at meals, after which it would be rehung; the latter were designed after the three-legged stool pattern,

or benches served their purposes. A bedstead was a very important item in the domestic com. fort of the family, and this was the fashion of improvising one: A forked stake was driven into the ground diagonally from the corner of the room, and at a proper distance, upon which poles reaching from each other were laid. The wall ends of the poles either rested in the openings between the logs, or were driven into auger holes. Bark or boards were used as a substi tute for cords. Upon this the tidy housewife spread her straw tick, and if she had a home-made feather bed, she piled it up into a luxurious mound, and covered it with her whitest drapery. Some sheets hung behind it for tapestry added to the coziness of the resting-place. The house thus far along, it was left to the deft devices of the wife to complete its comforts, and the father of the family was free to superintend out-door affairs. If it was in season, his first important duty was to prepare some ground for planting, and to plant what he could. The first year's farming consisted mainly of a truck patch," planted in corn, potatoes, turnips and other vegetables. Generally, the first year's crop fell short of supplying even the most rigid economy of food. Many of the settlers brought with them small stores of such things as seemed indispensable to frugal living, such as flour, bacon, coffee and tea. But these supplies were not inexhaustible, and once used were not easily replaced. A long winter must come and go before another crop could be raised. If game was plentiful, it helped to eke out their limited supplies. But even when corn was plentiful, the preparation of it was the next difficulty in the way The mills for grinding it were at such long distances that every other device was resorted to for reducing it to meal. Some grated it on an implement made by punching small holes through a piece of sheet iron or tin, and fastening it upon a board in concave shape, with the rough side out. Upon this the ear was rubbed to produce the meal. But grating could not be done when the corn became so dry as to shell off when rubbed. Some used a coffee mill for grinding it; and a very common substitute for bread was hominy—a palatable and wholesome diet—made by boiling corn in a weak lye till the hull or bean peeled off, after which it was well washed to cleanse it of the lye. It was then boiled again to soften it, when it was ready for use, as occasion required, by frying and seasoning it to the taste. Another mode of preparing hominy was by pestling. A mortar was made by burning a bowl-shaped cavity in the end of an upright block of wood. After thoroughly cleansing it of the charcoal, the corn could be put in, hot water turned upon it, when it was subjected to a severe pestling by a club of sufficient length and thickness, in the large end of which was inserted an iron wedge, banded to keep it there. Tne hot water would soften the corn and loosen the hull, while the pestle would crush it. When breadstuffs were needed, they had to be obtained from long distances. Owing to the lack of proper means for threshing and cleaning wheat, it was more or less mixed with foreign substances such as smut, dirt and oats. And as the time when the settlers' method of threshing and cleaning may be forgotten, it may be well to preserve a brief account of them here. The plan was to clean off a space of ground of sufficient size, and, if the earth was dry, to dampen it and beat it to render it somewhat compact. Then the sheaves were unbound and spread in a circle, so that the heads would be uppermost, leaving room in the center for the person whose business it was to turn and stir the straw in the process of threshing. Then as many oxen or horses were brought as could conveniently swing around the circle, and these were kept moving until the wheat was well trodden out. After several floorings" or layers were threshed, the straw was carefully raked off and the wheat shoveled into a heap to be cleaned. This cleaning was sometimes done by waving a sheet up and down to fan out the chaff as the grain was dropped before it; but this trouble was often obviated when the strong winds of autumn were all that was needed to blow out the chaff from the grain. This mode of preparing the grain for flouring was so imperfect that it is not to be wondered at that a considerable amount of black soil got mixed with it, and unavoidably got into the bread. This, with an addition of smut, often rendered it so dark as to have less the appearance of bread than mud; yet, upon such diet the people were compelled to subsist for want of a better. Not the least among the pioneers' tribulations, during the first few years of the settlement, was the going to mill. The slow mode of travel by ox teams was made still slower by the almost total absence of roads and bridges, while such a thing as a ferry was hardly ever dreamed of. The distance to be traversed was often as far as from sixty to ninety miles. In dry weather,

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common sloughs and creeks offered but little impediment to teamsters; bat daring floods and breaking up of winter, they proved exceedingly troublesome and dangerous. To get stuck in a slough, and thus be delayed for many hours, was no uncommon occurrence, and that, too, when time was an item of grave import to the comfort and sometimes even to the lives of the settler's family. Often a swollen stream would blockade the way, seeming to threaten destruction to whoever would attempt to ford it. With regard to roads, there was nothing of the kind worthy of the name. Indian trails were common, but they were unfit to travel on with vehicles. They were mere paths about two feet wide—all that was required to accommodate the single tile manner of Indian traveling. When the early settlers were compelled to make these long and difficult trips to mill, if the country was prairie over which they passed, they found it comparatively easy to do in summer when grass was plentiful. By traveling until night, and thence camping out to feed the teams, they got along without much difficulty But in winter such a journey was attended with no little danger. The utmost economy of time was, of course, necessary. When the goal was reached, after a week or more of toilsome traveling, with many exposures and risks, the poor man was impatient to immediately return with the desired staff of life, but he was often shocked and disheartened with the information that his turn would come in a week. Then he must look about for some means to pay expenses, and he was lucky who could find employment by the day or job. Then, when his turn came, he had to be on hand to bolt his own flour, as, in those days, the bolting machine was not an attached part of the other mill machinery. This done, the anxious soul was ready to endure the trials of a return trip, his heart more or less concerned about the affairs of home. Those milling trips often occupied from three weeks to more than a month each, and were attended with an expense, in one way or another, that rendered the cost of breadstuffs extremely high. If made in the winter, when more or less grain feed was required for the team, the load would be found to be so considerably reduced on reaching home that the cost of what was left, adding other expenses, would make their grain reach the high cash figure of $3 to $5 per bushel. And these trips could not always be made at the most favorable season for traveling. In spring and summer, so much time could hardly be spared from other essential labor; yet, for a large family, it was almost impossible to avoid making three or four trips during the year.

Among other things calculated to annoy and distress the pioneer, was the prevalence of wild beasts of prey, the most numerous and troublesome of which was the wolf. While it was true, in a figurative sense, that it required the utmost care and attention to "keep the wolf from the door," it was almost as true in a literal sense. There were two species of these animals—the large, black timber wolf and the small gray wolf that usually inhabited the prairie. At first, it was almost impossible for a settler to keep small stock of any kind that would serve as a prey to these ravenous beasts. Sheep were not deemed safe property until years after, when their enemies were supposed to be nearly exterminated. Large numbers of wolves were destroyed during the early years of settlement. When they were hungry, which was not uncommon, particularly during the winter, they were too indiscreet for their own safety, and would often approach within easy shot of the settters' dwellings. At certain seasons, their wild, plaintive yelp or bark could be heard in all directions and at all hours of the night, creating intense excitement among the dogs, whose howling would add to the dismal melody. It has been found by experiment that but one of the canine species—the hound--has both the fleetness and the courage to cope with his savage cousin, the wolf. Attempts were often made to capture him with the common cur, but this animal, as a rule, proved himself wholly unreliable for such service. So long as the wolf would run, the cur would follow; but the wolf being apparently acquainted with the character of his pursuer, would either turn and place himself in a combative attitude, or else act upon the principle that " "discretion is the better part of valor," and throw himself upon his back in token of surrender. This strategic performance would make instant peace between these two scions of the same house; and not infrequently dogs and wolves have been seen playing together like puppies. But the hound was never known to recognize a flag of truce; his baying seemed to "signify uo quarters," or, at least, so the terrified wolf understood it. Smaller animals, such as panthers, lynxes, wild cats, catamounts and polecats, were sufficiently numerous to be troublesome. And an exceeding source of annoyance were the