ney for delay in the loss of this property, but whoseosever the fault the Worthington estate bore the burden. To recover from this Mr. Worthington now undertook extensive contracts to supply the Government post at New Orleans, Natchez, St. Louis and Newport, Kentucky. These contracts demanded long trips, when he was not in good health, and taxed his energies to the utmost. In 1823, the Scioto Valley was visited with a most malignant fever. All the household at Adena were sick, and though none died, Mr. Worthington never recovered from its effects. In 1825, one one of his visits to New Orleans, Mrs. King accompanied him. General La Fayette made his visit to the Southwest then and Gov. Worthington, as a guest of the city, participated in the ovation prepared for the distinguished French man. In 1826, he was advised to try the waters of Saratoga, and did so, but with little relief, and his sufferings were aggravated by the water. He determined to make a voyage by river to New Orleans, taking only his young son William with him. He sent the boy back by a friend on April 26, 1827, wrote his last letter to his wife, from New Orleans. He says that he "received no benefit from the climate, the sudden changes of which proved most unfavorable. With such weather I have been extremely unwell, having had chills and fever and a severe bilious attack. These afflictions are far short of the mercies bestowed on me; they are far less than I deserve. I most sincerely desire that the Lord's will may be done. I leave here for New York on the 29th and fear I have staid here too long." A stormy voyage of thirty-five days proved disastrous for him. Mr. King's sons received him in New York, wrote to his wife, and sent to West Point for his son Thomas. He died June 20, 1827, some hours before his wife reached New York. His remains were brought to Ohio, and interred with most marked respect. Delegations were present from all quarters of the state and thousands gathered around the bier and joined the funeral cortege. He was first buried at Adena, but on • Private Memoirs, p. 74. Mrs. Worthington's death, December 24, 1848, it seemed a suitable occasion to remove the remains to the public cemetery at Chillicothe.1 Mr. Worthington was a member of the Methodist Episcopal Church, having probably joined that communion under the influence of the celebrated Francis Asbury, with whom he corresponded, and for whom he named his youngest son. His wife and daughters were members of the Protestant Episcopal Church. If one considers that this man was the first Ohio Governor to urge free schools for the poor; restriction of the liquor traffic in favor of temperance; the building of a governor's mansion; the granting to the prisoner a portion of the net income of his labor and making the effort to reform instead of punish him; the establishment of a state school for training teachers; the establishment of county infirmaries, and the more humane treatment of the poor; as well as the advocacy of all plans for internal improvement, by roads, water courses and finally by canals) one clearly sees the statesman instead of the politician. He inherited wealth and he spent it freely with his time and strength, dying at the early age of fifty-four, worn out in the service of the state he helped to found and build to greatness. He was clearly the greatest man of the first generation of Ohio states men. GEORGE CROGHAN. BY CHARLES RICHARD WILLIAMS, PH. D., LL. D. [Address delivered at Spiegel Grove, Fremont, O., August 1, 1903, before the George Croghan Chapter Daughters of the American Revolution, on the occasion of the celebration of the ninetieth anniversary of the battle of Ft. Stephenson. Mr. Williams is editor of The Indianapolis News. E. O. R.] I. "Happy the country that has no history" is an old, old saying. It falls trippingly on the tongue. It passes current at unquestioned value in the conversation of men. Hardly ever does one stop to doubt its validity or to test its quality. Like most popular proverbs it does assuredly voice a common conviction of men; it does express an accepted opinion. History busies itself most with the great concerns of life; with the emergence and struggle for recognition of new and strange forces, with the clash of system with system, of class with class, with the overthrow of governments and the setting up of new forms of polity, with the disasters of pestilence and earthquake, of drought and flood, and with the horrors and glories, the devastation and triumphs of marching cohorts and of warring hosts. When all these things are absent, when a country's life goes on unquickened by new emotions, unstirred by large events, dull, monotonous, commonplace, it is making no history, and it may indeed be happy in a lifeless and spiritless sort of way. The seasons may give their increase, men may have corn in the bin and cattle in the byre; but if they have no outlook beyond their own contracted horizon, if they have no sense of participation in the larger life that was before they began to be and that shall grow, with their help or without, into "the fuller day," what a poor thing their happiness is! "Happy the country that has no history." Yes, if you will. But happier far the country whose history is rich, and full and glorious. We live not only in our day and in our deeds. But we live also in the glorious deeds of our worthy ancestors. They sowed and we reap the harvest; they planted, and we enjoy the shade and the fruitage; they builded and we sit in their seats and bask in the flames on their hearthstones; they fought and we share their laurels. All the great deeds done, the sacrifices made, the blood shed and the treasure spent in the making of this America, "to keep the jewel of Liberty in the family of Free dom," give increase of meaning to the words "our country," and make patriotism a more significant and commanding duty. Our country is not just this great expanse of territory, with all its endless variety of scenic charm and climate, of fruitfulness and mineral wealth. It is this, to be sure, but more and better. It is every great name emblazoned on our roster of fame. It is every heroic event that dignifies our annals. It is Washington and Jefferson and Hamilton; it is Lincoln and Grant and Hayes. It is Bunker Hill and Princeton and Yorktown; it is Fort Stephenson and Lake Erie and New Orleans; it is Missionary Ridge and Gettysburg and Appomattox. II. The war of 1812 was not a very important war, and not at all, as we can clearly see now, a necessary war. Larger views and wiser statesmanship would doubtless have avoided it. There were grievances, to be sure, that justified the appeal to arms; but no more than had existed for years, and hardly more serious than those suffered from France. But France had been friendly in our Revolutionary struggle, and we could not quite forget that, even though Bonaparte was now France and was seeking to dominate all Europe. And the buffeting of one's kins folk, especially if they put on "superior" or patronizing or contemptuous airs, is always hardest to bear. England had never quite recognized that this was really a separate and distinct member of the family of nations. That fact produced increasing bitterness and rage, particularly among the younger men. And they, coming into power at last in the Congress of 1811, soon forced an unwilling president to advise and accept war. Not only was the president really at heart against the war, but so were his principal advisers and a large majority of the people, especially in the New England states. Moreover the country was utterly unprepared for war. Its navy was insignificant in number of ships. The army was a mere handful of men. Stores and munitions were lacking. Yet the nation at large welcomed the declaration of war and entered upon it with all the gayety of sublime rashness and buoyant inexperience. For the most part the history of the war is now melancholy and humiliating reading. Indecision, vacillation and incompetency at Washington; inexperience, ignorance, stupidity and even cowardice among the men placed in command in the field; surrender, defeat, massacres, disgrace that pretty nearly sums up the record of the first few months of the war on land. Bombastic proclamations of what was going to be done. Little attempted, less accomplished. The men in the ranks and the line officers, mostly volunteers or militia, were full of zeal, were eager to fight, were willing to endure endless hardship; but they were without discipline, were ill-equipped, were badly fed or half-starved, and the politicians that led them were neither soldiers nor had the |