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Wayne Tp., Darke County, Ohio
Samuel Long
Table of Contents
pages [3]-5  pages 6-9  pages 10-13  pages 14-17  pages 18-21  pages 22-25  pages 26-29
pages 30-33  pages 34-37  pages 38-41  pages 42-45  pages 46-49  pages 50-53  pages 54-57
Surname Index


lovely. Of beech leafy and limbs numerous, whereon the schoolboy cut his sweetheart's name inter-locked with his own and in the shade of which childhood played the games of the real trades of older life. A forest of under-growth thick, set and varied, towering to the trees and sweeping to the earth, covering it with carpet, beautiful. Of iron wood out of which many needed things were made neatly and easily, and other, dog wood called that blossomed beautiful at the planting of the corn, for purposes alike were used. Of grape vines that clambered o'er the undergrowth, or towered up the forest trees, the fruit of which most beautiful, ripening when the frost in Autumn fell. A forest through which the deers galloped, in which the wild turkey called for mate or young, the pheasant whirred, the squirrel leaped from branch to branch and frisked with motion graceful, the crow cawed, the raven and buzzard sailed in graceful curves searching for food. A forest bedecked with a coat of leafy green where birds of sweet song with bright plumage red, blue, green, black, yellow, brown, gray or speckeled breasted, flitted gay and happy, where the black bird in great congregations gathered in leafy tree tops and held grand concerts in mid air, and where the wild pigeons swarmed in immense groves, the branches of the trees falling beneath the heavy weight. A forest abounding with the honey bee that in trunk or limb stored its honey for cold winter days, and harbingered oncoming settlers or pioneers. A forest the branches of the limbs bore fruit that fatened the hogs of the pioneer where they ranged wild and numerous, or such fruits were stored away by a rustic lad or woodland girl to eat around the winter fireside, acorn and hickory nuts, walnut and beech. A forest where were haws and pawpaws, mosses and floral growth of beauty rare and varied, and the grasses abounded everywhere, where the toad jumped, the frog trilled, the bull-frog bellowed, snakes, venomous and cruel, crawled, mosquitoes numorous did hum, and gnats in armies sang and bit, owls hooted and wood chucks chirped. Primeval forest of my native hills and vales, thou art gone; but on my page l'll write of thee, for thou were a mighty and lovely growth, a creation of wondrous and varied life!

My Native Country thee,
   Land of my youthful glee,
Township of Wayne--by name,
   I love thy hills and dales,
Thy streams and pleasant vales.
   My heart with rapture hails;
Just the same.



Land where our Fathers died,
   Land of my youthful pride,
Of thee I sing;
   Long may this land be bright,
With freedom's holy light,
   Protected by God's might,
Our only King.

The Then and The Now---A Contrast.

      We have written of the old Pioneer and of his old children who wielded the ax and dragged the saw, swung the maul and drove the wedge, plied the mattock or the grubbing hoe, used shaving knife and froe washed the sheep and cut off the fleece, carded the wool and spun the rolls and wove it into linsey and blue jeans, pulled the flax and broke the bundles, scutched out the tow and hackeled out the finer texture of flax, spun it into skeins and wove it into tow linen or the softer and finer texture linen without the rough tow, used skillfully the sickle and the scythe the jumping shovel plow or the crude grain cradle that mowed its wide swath, that took both a raker and a binder to bind the sheaves and shock them in dozens. Cleared out the road and corduroyed the ponds puncheoned bridged the creeks and small brooks and plowed down the steep hills of the road that come from and went to other settlements and towns. Built the old log house and the barn planted the orchards and sowed the meadow and made the old homestead a spot of beauty never to be forgotten picture in memory, and makes us all love the "Old Oaken Bucket," because it speaks of the "cot of my father and my mothers dairy house nigh it, and even the old well with its great sweep that lifted the oaken bucket and sparkling water dripping with coolness, that went gurgling down our dry throats as we came in from the field. Built the old log school house on the hill slope along the branch or at thc cross roads in which the younger of the household studied the same old course of the "3 R's." spelled the same long columns of words read in pretty much the same hum-drum tone, studied the tables of that mysterious book, arithmetic called, made "pot hooks" and other letters got licked now and then as of yore played "bull-soup" and town ball, black man barley bright lost my glove, and some of us even passed grammar and studied descriptive geography and chanted the capitals like angel choirs, penned the master out,



made him treat and had two or three days out of his sixty-five! Hurrah! for the jolly old school days and the jolly old pedagogue of a half century ago! So we grow poetic as we think of the growth of education and the school in our native vales and hills and how the curriculum has expanded to the academic grade:


Proud monument! and Learning's hall!
   'Tis fitting from thy dome.
Our Country's Flag, the Stars and Stripes,
   In rythmic waves should roam.

From out thy dome the bell peals forth,
   A call to Learning's hall;
Each youth of State to these grounds free!
   Proclaim it unto all.

Of all of old Virginia's lands
   In ceding right 'tis seen,
For schools, one section in each town.
   That section is sixteen.

Ohio, pride of Western States.
   The school and grounds kept free;
And all of her Governor's of State
   Were true to liberty.

Within thy walls are patriots reared.
   For home and State prepared;
Learning and Liberty alike
   Within these walls are cared.

Wave Stars and Stripes and Freedom's cause
   Forever from thy dome;
The patriot's cradle ever rock.
   And send them to each home.
      We have written of pioneers and the older children who built their habitations of the material their native forest furnished, the old log cabin called with no other tools than ax and froe of round logs puncheoned floored, clap-board roofed and weight poled, door, wooden in every part, clay chimney with its great jams and huge fire places where the old back log and great pile of wood in front burned lighting up the household over which the smoke from the white man's camp fire curled, and within which was the white faced wife and mother, and her ruddy, chubby and curly headed children, that slept beneath that clap-board roof, through which the snow sprinkled, baptizing them with health germs and gave them blood as pure as the white snow flake itself.



      It makes our blood ripple and our hearts beat with rapture of joy to think of the good old days of hardy toil, when the brotherhood of the white man was never better exemplified, and such elements were rife as make men--moralist, scholar, statesman, yes, that noblest work of God--honest men. But our pen catches the view of the "now" and sees the growth at the end of the 19th century---the grand child or great grand child and their, cotemporaries of the on-rushing population, drives their team afield without root, or stump, or stone, or tiny brooklet to interrupt, a where were the wild moor, the willow ponds and small lakelets, abounding in trilling and bellowing frogs, hummiug mosquitoes, the cowardly black snakes and other more bold and venomous are the alluvial field and the more productive acres. Where the sickle glistened for the harvest sunshine and the scythe rang out tune defiant, now, Appollin like, the farmer rides his sulky plow, his field roller, his grain drill, the self binder gathering the sheaves, the hay tedder scattering the grass, the hay loader placing it on the wagon and mows the hay and threshes and garners his grain and husks and cribs his corn with the most complete and labor-saving machinery.
      They drive down the graveled lane in vehicle stylish and modern with gay steeds, fleet of foot and gaily caparisoned, or "skin" down the pike on his bicycle like a bird upon the wing, or sits in the parlor of the palatial home reading the daily papers, surrounded with luxury, the library and music.

But don't forget the pioneers!
   Brave heroes and heroines!
Their graves shall yet be found,
   And monuments shall mark their dust,
As sacred earth and ground.


Table of Contents
pages [3]-5  pages 6-9  pages 10-13  pages 14-17  pages 18-21  pages 22-25  pages 26-29
pages 30-33  pages 34-37  pages 38-41  pages 42-45  pages 46-49  pages 50-53  pages 54-57
Surname Index

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