For the Register.
Many years ago when Ohio was neutral ground, claimed by the rival parties, the English, French and the Indians, a man by the name of Lynd lived over the river about a mile below Burlington. At that time there was no settlement in Ohio closer than Marietta, above, and Cincinnati below. This man, Lynd, got into his canoe early one morning, and paddled across the river to hunt deer as the woods in Ohio at that time were full of them. He landed just were Burlington now stands, which at that time was an unbroken forest. He soon sighted and killed a fine doe and after waiting in concealment some half an hour, for fear the report of his rifle might bring down upon him some roving Indians, he leaned his trusty rifle against a tree and proceeded to skin and cut up his game, keeping a watchful eye on his surroundings. Whilst busily engaged with his game, he heard the report of a gun and the whiz of the bullet as it passed closely by his head and buried itself in the tree against which he had leaned his gun. Looking quickly around he discovered five Indians running toward him tomahawk in hand.

The day was a dark drizzly one and a fog was gathering on the river but had not risen very high as yet. Grasping his gun, he ran with all his might to his canoe which he had pulled upon the shore. He pushed the canoe into the water, giving it a shove which sent it a full 20 feet from the shore, falling flat into it. It was well he did so, for another report was heard and the ball went through the side of the canoe just over his head. The fog which had been slowly gathering, now enveloped him, so that he was invisible to those who were after him. He heard their cries and understanding somewhat of their language, heard them talking about another canoe, which they had hidden somewhere in the willows which lined the shore. He hurriedly arose, grasped his paddle, and made his way swiftly to the other side landing just below the mouth of Twelvepole creek on a low, sandy flat almost an island and which was covered with pawpaw bushes and grape vines interspersed with giant sycamore trees. As he landed he heard the strokes of the paddles and the yells of his pursuers, and his heart sank within him. However, he loaded his rifle and ran for the center of the land on which he was, and fortunately he came across a fallen tree under which he hid himself. It was not long before he heard the Indians approaching, following his trail, but just before he reached the tree, he had to pass through a large pond of water, which completely hid his footprints and as the fog was still dense, the Indians were at fault and scattered to see if they could not find it again. Twice they crossed the tree under which he lay concealed and once, three of them sat down on the tree within a few feet of him, and he heard them talking, that it would not do to stay too long as the white man must have companions and they would come in search of him. So they gave up the search and taking both canoes crossed the river, took his deer and went their way. This man Lynd was the ancestor of the Lynd families who live back of Burlington, and I think he afterwards moved over into this township and became one of its earliest settlers.

G.