I was aroused to consciousness by hearing a shrill whistle unlike anything I had ever heard before: it seemed to be not far away. Upon being fairly awoke I looked around me—all was changed. In this bewilderment of suspense, a guide came to me and said he was my earthly guardian, who, upon inquiry, I found was pretty well acquainted with what had transpired while I was asleep. I first wished to learn how long I had been asleep; I was told fifty years. This astonished me beyond measure, and becoming sufficiently awake, I inquired where my father and mother, and my only sister, my junior. were. I was told my parents had many years previous passed away from earth, as well as most all who I knew of my former surroundings. In looking around on my father’s little farm, where I awoke, all things were passed away except the hills and valleys. The only adult man left was the young married neighbor who had a mill and the one-horse carding machine. My friend said he was still living on the side of the hill, now an old man of nearly four score years. But I was delighted to learn that my sister was living, and resided in the city of Richmond, the place that I knew when it was but a little village. I desired to be conducted to see her, and I now bid adieu to that spot. But I wanted to learn what noise it was that awoke me. I was told that it was the whistle of a locomotive, which was something new to me. My guide explained that it was an engine, propelled by steam and mounted on wheels; attached to it was water and fuel, a man at the front as engineer, and another as fireman. To this locomotive was hitched what are called cars or coaches, to convey passengers and freight, instead of conveying the former and latter by slow wagons and coaches, as related in my annals. These locomotives and cars were run on what was called railroads. These roads were made by first grading, cutting down in some places and filling up in other places, then cross-ties are placed, about six or eight feet long about twenty inches to two feet apart; the iron rail is then spiked down. These are generally twenty-four feet long, and at a more modern date called “T” rails. I was informed that these railroads were introduced in America about the time I was born, and that the first bars were flat instead of the shape now used; that early in the present century these roads were but few, being first constructed in the eastern States, from one city to another. It was not till 1833 that railroads were extended any great distance in the Eastern and Middle States; after that date they rapidly extended, as the wants of the age demanded, pushed their way in the Southern States, and as far west as Ohio. That in 1850 the march of improvement had become so great in my native State, that railroads began to be talked about here. After much activity and perseverance on the part of prominent citizens, that in 1852 the first locomotive crossed the State line dividing Ohio from Indiana. This, I was informed, was an important era to Richmond; that previous to that date an enterprise was projected to have a canal down the Whitewater, to connect with some southern towns on the stream towards the Ohio river, but my guide informed me that that project was a failure. Some relics of a canal can be seen where a few ditches were excavated along the line, some eighty thousand dollars of the peoples’ money being spent in surveying and work. A similar project was, a short time before, consummated, leading from Cambridge City, a town which had rapidly sprang up in the western part of the county; but that it is now one of the things that were. Soon after this the citizens turned their attention to constructing turnpike roads leading to various points, having some years previous the National road passing through, which was a great thoroughfare for emigrants to Illinois, Iowa and other States West. This, says my informant, was a useful and paying investment. The enterprising projectors of these roads were not expecting them to have railroads to converge to Richmond, at so early a date, or the pikes might not have been so energetically completed. Soon followed the first railroad from Cincinnati.

Another was projected from the East, leading West to the capitol of Indiana, called Indianapolis, which, I am informed at the date of my early Annals, was an unbroken wilderness, where no white man lived previous to 1818. A town was laid out there about 1820, and rapidly grew and in 1825 became the Capitol of the State. Now, at this date, it claims about one hundred thousand inhabitants, and has twelve or thirteen railroads centering there. Some few years later other roads made Richmond a point, and lastly the one that its locomotive whistle awoke me, was a few years ago completed from Ft. Wayne, a town in the northern part of Indiana, that was laid out and grew since the date of the foregoing Annals. This road, I was informed, was a number of years talked of before it was completed. Its final completion, I was told, was owing much to the energy and perseverance of a contemporary who I knew when a boy, and first saw at Chester Meeting; then he wore a fashionable, narrow-brimmed, bell-crowned hat, but now, I was told, he wears an unfashionable broad-brimmed beaver, and is President of this road. I asked my guide if these railroads were all there were in the world? With a smile he said, not by any means, remarking that to give an entire history of railroads both in America and Europe would occupy too much space in this little Appendix. My instructor said, let us leave this lonely spot, and go to the nearest station on the Fort Wayne railroad and get aboard the cars and ride to Richmond. As this was the first railroad locomotive and cars I had ever seen, I was afraid to venture upon it. But hearing the loud cry, “all aboard,” I jumped on. Strange to relate, in a few minutes, the train was passing over Whitewater stream, on a high bridge, part wood and part iron. Here I learned that this was the second bridge, the first one built about 1852 burnt down in 1870. I asked my guide how many inhabitants there was now in Richmond? He said, about twelve thousand within the city limits, and probably within a radius of two miles, twenty thousand; and that Wayne township of about six miles square, of which these annals is a history of, is now densely populated, and pays about half the taxes of Wayne county. We are now entering the depot, just been completed; perhaps none superior to it in Indiana. I was told that the first depot, built over twenty years ago, was small and poorly constructed. When alighting from the car, all objects were new; rows of brick houses loomed up before my eyes, all astir with people and business, but none I knew. While thus standing in consternation and wonder, my guide pointed in view from where we stood, the old White-water Meeting House, where he said, I was present and saw the foundation before the brick walls were laid. Indeed I recognized it to be the same Yearly Meeting House of fifty years ago that was considered so grand and majestic, standing there in a comparative new and unimproved country. But now how tame and sombre it looked; no dome or belfry upon its roof, or ornament in its exterior, except the faded drab paint on the walls. My guide said this was not for show, but for preservation, as the Friend Quakers did not so generally wear drab clothes as they did when I was a boy. In surveying this now unique pile of brick and mortar, it did not appear so large as formerly, and seemed to shrink into insignificance before me, since the Depot in front of it was twice its length. My curiosity seemed now to be gratified in standing viewing Whitewater meeting place, where I used to go with my parents, over half a century ago. Before leaving, I said, let us go inside of this old meeting-house, wishing to see how it looked now. I was informed the doors were locked, and it not being meeting-day, my guide, who seemed to know how it was, said it was just as I used to see it, no paint or varnish had ever been put on the wood-work; the same wooden benches for seats, a few dilapidated cushions were on the foremost seats, the remainder were hard enough. He said that the same sounding-board, as it was called fifty years ago, was there just as it was; there had been some fears of late years that the walls would give way and the whole mass fall. In such an event great would be the fall of that meeting house, and fortunate would it be that it did not occur in time of Yearly Meeting.

I wanted now to see Richmond as she now is, and wished to be conducted down Front street, the only street I knew when I was there over fifty years ago. In going in that direction I passed by solid blocks of houses where, I was informed, once a good sized frog pond existed. This I had not forgotten. Going on I saw houses on both sides, some for business and others fine residences. We come now to the same Front street, narrow in width as formerly. I began to locate sites of the first houses I knew on the street, and I recognized the spot where now the Pearl street M. E. church is, where used to be a wagon shop. McLane’s blacksmith shop was not to be seen, nor Boswell’s beer shop and house, but there was the spot where they stood. A little further on was the ground where Robert Morrisson first lived and at the corner where he had his first store. Here I found a large three-story, of brick, occupied for various kinds of business. My informant here said that Richmond people didn’t now have such small beer shops as friend Boswell had, but in lieu they had what was now called “saloons,” and a great many of these are now in Richmond, scattered over town; and here is one on the ground floor of this corner building. While standing on the corner, I asked my conductor what large, modern new house that was on the corner, recognizing it to be the same corner where John Smith kept store; he replied that it was the Court House, and the county seat had been moved from a small town called Centreville, six miles on the Wayne county pike, west, which, I was told, had been the county seat of my native county over fifty years. He said it caused much contention and a great deal of money, and bad blood stirred up, to get this Court House here; pointing down Front street south, on the west side, said all that ground, mostly cleared of houses, over two acres of it, was the Court House ground. In going across he showed me the new jail, just completed, including the Sheriff’s residence. He said there was none superior in the State, promising me at some other time he would show me the inside of it. I thought that would be interesting, as I had never been in a jail. I looked across to the corner where Plummer’s store formerly was, and there saw, instead of a plain frame house, a four-story brick loomed up before me, and read, “T. Nestor,” on its walls. On the opposite corner where David Holloway had a store, was also a three-story brick. On the ground room was an “Eating House”; this was a new name to me, but I was told these were common. The artificial beef-steak, ham, and mutton leg in the window looked quite natural. On the second story I read, “Attorneys at Law.” I wanted to know of my conductor what that meant, and he said it was another name for lawyers; still at a loss to know what they were, with a smile was told if I had not slept so long I would not have asked such a question. He said when I was in my teens not one of this fraternity lived here; it was a good while after that a lawyer did come, and boarded over where the Court House is, but soon went where his merits would be more appreciated. It was some time before any others ventured to come to Richmond. I was told now at this date, that lawyers could be counted by scores in Wayne county, and that about two-thirds of them were living here in Richmond. This I thought strange, but was told since the population has become so dense, crime in the same ratio has kept pace, so as to require large and costly jails and Court Houses; hence it necessarily requires a great many lawyers to keep people out of the jails and penitentiaries. But with all their assistance, I was told, these prisons were crowded with convicts, having two large State Prisons in Indiana. I wished to know if all rogues got to these prisons, and was told not by any means. The biggest rogues generally got clear. I inquired if it was not somewhere near where a printing office used to be. He said there was one at the rear end of Nestor’s corner in a one-story frame house. I said recollected going with my father to see the editor about subscribing for his paper, who traded him the old meat-ax by dressing it up and blacking it with pitch, and putting a new straight handle in it, for a year’s subscription to the Public Ledger. This was the first newspaper I ever saw and read. I located the swamp where Morrisson’s tan-yard was, now covered over with houses and a large machine-shop. Upon inquiring for the foreman, Wiggins, I was told he lived in the eastern border of the city, retired now, over four score years of age. In looking south of the Court House grounds and jail, the only house recognized was the brick house that John Smith built, the first one on Whitewater. In passing to Pearl street corners, was shown the corner where Morrisson’s store was in a pretty respectable frame dwelling and store-room; now a three-story brick in its stead, and a grocery store on the first floor. In the basement I found my contemporary, young Outland, now three-score years of age, a professional barber. On the opposite corner where the first tavern was in Richmond, now a large brick corner with gilt letters high up on the walls, “Richmond National Bank.” I was told that Morrisson’s name appeared there many years, but not now; each of the two other corners had similar three stories, one a large meat shop, and opposite, a drugstore. Where the first whisky-shop was when I was a boy, and the place to get good Monongahela, is now a large depot for hams. Here at these corners ended my acquaintance with the village of Richmond. It was the edge of town, or nearly so. Jeremiah Cox’s farm extended to the corner where one Kibbey had a tavern. My informant said he was the father of Judge Kibbey, now holding court.

In all the foregoing observations I saw no one that I knew when I was in the town, when a boy; all faces were strange, and the business they followed. I inquired of my guide in what part of this big town my sister lived. He said she now resided in what was call the new addition, south-east, on Ninth street. I desired to be shown there, which was readily done. In passing east on Main street he pointed out a few corners where now was the business blocks all built up, and all kinds of trade and merchandise exhibited. At the corner where is a fine modern brick, labeled “First National Bank,” and a splendid drug store, &c., I was informed that about forty years ago Charles W. Starr, who bought Cox’s farm, only a few years previously erected an ordinary brick building on that corner, but said, hard times coming on between 1840 and ‘43, “To Let” was on the doors of that corner a long time. On the opposite corner was a large business room with large letters, “Reed & Son’s—hardware,” where I was told, about forty years ago a two-story brick house stood, and subsequently additions were made for a plow factory, but at a more recent date became the property of Irvin Reed, who came to Richmond when he was a young man. Across on the opposite corner was a large massive building, with large letters painted, “Huntington House.” There again my guide said formerly stood a small frame wagon shop, and some years later a brick shop was built and a wagon and carriage manufactory was carried on some years, when the building was converted into a public house. A few years after it became the property of the present owner, Oran Huntington, who kept a hotel for some years, making at sundry times valuable additions, making it the most extensive hotel in Richmond, and now kept by George Davidson, who knows just how to keep a hotel. Across on the other corner was noticed where a splendid three-story brick house stood. My informant said that not long ago a two-story frame wagon and carriage shop was on the corner, but owing to the rapid growing of the town, such work-shops had to be removed to give place to more showy and aristocratic business houses, now owned by Vaughan & Bros., wholesale and retail dealers in paints, oils, hardware, &c. I was informed that this street received the name of Franklin many years ago. It was laid off and lots were sold by C. W. Starr, and a few houses built on it; perhaps but one of the original buildings can be seen on that street at this date.

Passing east to the corner on the south-west, where was seen a fine building, three stories, with various imposing letters of business, the lower story two large business rooms, one dry goods and the other a fine book store. I was informed that this building was erected about ten years ago by the Odd Fellows where they have their lodges, in the third story. My guide said he could give me a little history of that corner. We sat down and I listened. He said forty-five years ago there stood on that lot, a little back from the street, or rather road, a blacksmith’s shop. That little building was some distance out of town, there being but one other little brick house further east on the road, and it stood near where yon three-story building is where you see “Telegram Office,” and other signs. I was informed that about the year 1829, late in the fall, a country blacksmith on one of the streams of Whitewater purchased that corner lot with a little brick house and a frame blacksmith shop that stood directly on the road and sidewalk, for three hundred and fifty dollars. He said he could relate to me many little incidents while his family lived at that corner, but learning that these sketches are to be condensed to a small sized pamphlet, will refer only to one or two: I used to pump wind for that country blacksmith, and one day a squad of men gathered on the opposite corner where the Second National Bank building is, an auctioneer being among them, to sell that corner lot to the highest bidder. I recollect it was “knocked off” at one hundred dollars, but learned afterwards that Starr had to take it back, the man thought it was too much to pay. That lot remained vacant many years. The year my father came and settled on this corner a carpenter, a new comer who had the little brick out on the road, had a contract to build a frame two-story house on a lot between Franklin and Fifth streets, north side. He agreed to find all the material and do the whole work for three hundred and twenty-five dollars. He used to go from his house to his work on a run, he appeared so industrious. The man who employed the carpenter was a neighbor to us in the country, and had a good farm and some money, and was an old bachelor. It was said the old miser got his house built for about what the material cost, the carpenter not making a quarter of a dollar a day with all his running. Over on the opposite corner one Patrick Justice had, the year we come, erected a large building, a frame, and had a tavern. Patrick was a good, clever neighbor, also his good wife, Katie, but Pat would keep a bar and sell whisky, and made money at it. I will relate a little incident: Pretty soon after Patrick had his tavern, and before he had much custom, the well-known separation took place among the Friends at Whitewater, here as well as elsewhere. That branch of them that had to build a new meeting-house, rented the second story of Patrick’s tavern to hold their religious and other meetings in till they could erect a meeting-house. Our family had only to go across the road to the tavern to meeting. I had never before seen so many broad beaver hats and black silk bonnets packed together in so small a compass. I had some strange cogitations when sitting in that huddled up meeting, with a bar-room underneath and a Free Masons’ lodge room in the cock-loft. Patrick seemed to have the presentiment that his corner would be in town some day, and caught the spirit of enterprise and erected a row of shed-roof one-story houses, fronting the road the width of his lot, and had tenants in them at about a dollar and a half a month each. This was considered quite an acquisition to Richmond, so much so that a new comer wrote back to Maryland to his friends what great improvements were going on in Richmond.

On the opposite corner from this tavern was a vacant lot; but soon after or before we came to town, a Friend that lived in the vicinity had a son whom he had brought up in the way he wanted him to go, bought this corner-lot, paying about one hundred and fifty dollars for it, and helped his son to build a cheap frame house on it. Taking a wife immediately, he commenced house-keeping there. He soon after erected a small, one-story frame, immediately on the corner, as a shoemaker shop, but subsequently he too became inspired with speculation, then rife with some, and traded his lot with proprietor Starr for several lots off the road north, in his commons, when Starr erected on that corner a commodious brick house, and planned it for a public house, where afterwards he resided, a few years, and kept it as a tavern or public entertainment. Since then the premises have passed through various hands, and with much addition and remodeling. Now it is known as the “Tremont House.”

My attending guide, who had been posting me up on all the corners then in Richmond, then proposed to conduct me to where my sister resided. He first informed me that she had lived about fifty years near this last described corner, but her husband, still a speculator in real estate, had recently purchased a number of vacant lots laid out on the land known as the Roberts farm. Fifty years the old man had lived there and carried eggs to town and sold them for two cents a dozen. My sister now lived on Ninth street, about the middle of the Roberts farm; but now the whole farm is sold and laid off in town lots, and mostly built upon. We passed on to Ninth street and turned a little South of now Main street, my guide pointing to a new modern brick building, on the west side of the street, said there was where she lived. We entered the enclosure, went to the front door and rang the bell, when the door was opened by my only sister. This occasion seemed to awaken me to a kind of second resurrection. In viewing her, many recollections seemed to loom up before my vision, that caused me take a retrospective view back to the days of our youth, when I went to sleep to get recuperated from the prostration brought on by disease or the doctor’s medicine. Now she appears to be a pretty well preserved elderly lady, a little past her three score years. There my guide took leave of me, but said if I wanted to look over the city to notice some of the business now in the city he would be at my service.

I had not long been left to my own reflections when, noticing my sister to be elderly, who was my junior, I began to be conscious that I too must be elderly. In viewing my corporal body and physiognomy for the first time since awaking on the little homestead we occupied fifty years ago, I found I had some additional bone and sinew but no surplus of flesh, for which I felt grateful. My sister said, with a smile upon her face, go and look in yon mirror. In doing so, sure enough I found it was myself; instead of a beardless chin, I had a full crop of trimmed beard, tinged with gray hairs, was now a Nazarite, not allowing a razor in the hands of a tonsorial professor to come upon my face. I was surprised to notice that my full crop of head had no gray hairs. My sister then reminded me that our mother at our age had no gray hairs, but remarked that I looked pretty well, considering the many ups and downs in my pilgrimage since the honest old doctor tried to save my life with his strong medicine. At this moment her husband stepped in and I was introduced. I learned he was a few years the senior of his wife, reaching near his three score and ten, but seemed more than ordinarily an active business man. Viewing him under his broad-brimmed beaver, he reminded me of the first storekeeper and first proprietor of Richmond, that it would not be so easy to get the upper hand of him in driving a trade. Upon inquiring after their family, I learned they had three sons that grew to manhood, two married, and all fair business men.

One day while sitting at home musing how I should close these sketches, my faithful guide came in and wanted to know if I didn’t want to visit the big manufacturing places in the city of Richmond, and other places of interest. I replied, I believed not; had already visited most of the business firms in the city, except those big overgrown ones, who, upon being interviewed, through their secretaries, found they had adopted other channels to reach their foreign customers than to advertise in a local work. They seemed to be independent and wealthy, and some of the members of the different firms, if we are allowed to judge by appearance, are a little aristocratic; living in twenty thousand dollar mansions, with fine carriages and match horses, livery, &c. I shook the dust from my feet and came away. Some of these establishments employ from two to three hundred hands, at the lowest living prices, and have from one to two acres of roofs. Coffin manufacturing is an extensive business in Richmond; probably there are at the hour of these sketches going to press, a casket for every man, woman and child in the city limits, made at the two establishments; but they export largely to a number of South-western and Western States. The school-desk manufactory is also an extensive business, exporting them to many States in the Union. A thousand or more men are yearly kept at work in these most formidable manufacturing establishments in Richmond. Of later years disposition is manifested to consolidate into stock companies, chartered; most of the largest manufacturing establishments are such in Richmond, having in their companies a President, Treasurer, and Secretary, and likewise Trustees, &c., some of whom are silent partners. Capitalists deem it to their interest to invest their money in well-conducted manufacturing companies, as a more sure road to wealth, than to the precarious business of merchandise. From the many that have engaged in the latter in Richmond, in the past forty years, a large percent of them have failed in the business.

In referring to the sworn assessments of real estate and personal property within the city limits of Richmond of the present year, 1875, to be seven millions one hundred and twenty-eight thousand dollars; add the above to the assessed value of real and personal in Wayne township, which foots up near nine million dollars, nearly half the assessed value of Wayne county; fifty years ago, perhaps two hundred thousand dollars would have been the assessment of the whole county.

The writer of the above has real estate to sell, and knows whereof he affirms. We have only space here to briefly allude to the Log Cabin on the outside cover of these Annals. The original was taken from one that the illustrious and lamented Lincoln once lived in, and the engraving was done by a young Hoosier boy of Wayne county. May he be a star of first magnitude in the art. But long ago these rude domicils have disappeared, and spacious mansions reared on the spot where they once stood.

For the want of space in these Annals, I ask the indulgence of correspondents and contributors, especially that of “Aunt Betsey’s Letters;” also, Biographical Sketches of contemporary early settlers and of their business, and other miscellaneous matter, &c. They will appear as a supplement in a future Log Cabin Magazine. See prospectus.

Yours truly,

A NATIVE.

Richmond, Ind., June 10, 1875.