The first of June, 1837, Mr. Chas. BUSH, Richard P. BUSH and John BUSH came from Danby, Tompkins county, New York. Charles P. BUSH settled on the north-west quarter of Sec. 11, Rich. BUSH on the south-west quarter of Sec. 1 and John BUSH on the north part of Sec. 2, Handy. During the summer several other families came to town among whom were Alson CHURCH, Alanson KNICKERBOCKER, Seymour NORTON and Samuel CONKLIN. Mr. CONKLIN was also from the State of New York and he and his wife on their arrival here stopped with Mr. Calvin HANDY. They owned land on Sec. 18, in the west part of our town, and as we considered it no task to go five or six miles to a log house raising, and Mr. CONKLIN having followed the Section line from the Cedar river to his land, and cut the logs for a house. We started--nine of us in number--with two pairs of oxen, to draw the logs and raise the house. We followed the section line, which crossed the river where the railroad bridge now is. In going around some wet places on the section line we missed our direction and got our oxen into the big swamp on section 17, got tired out--especially the oxen. We got back to the section line the best we could, not reaching his land. After the lapse of three or four weeks we tried it again, and succeeded in reaching his house. During the summer Mr. CONKLIN chopped some three acres of land and sowed it to wheat, carrying his seed wheat from the Cedar river on his back to his place, a distance of some three and a half miles. In the fall of 1837 Mr. HANDY, with his ox team, brought Mr. CONKLIN’S goods from his house to the river crossing above mentioned. The water was about three feet deep over the marsh. Six of us carried his things across, wading 40 or 50 rods in the water. Now how to get his wife across was a conundrum. Finally Martin W. RANDALL and myself took a board about six feet long, one at each end, set Mrs. CONKLIN in the middle, one hand on each side of our shoulders, and carried her across. Mr. KNICKERBOCKER came with his oxen out the west side of the river, and carried them to their place.

During the first few years of our settlement in Handy the bears, wolves and deer were very thick. During the first winter I have looked out of the door of my log house and counted eight or ten deer browsing on the timber. The bear frequently killed and carried off our hogs. The first sheep in the town I bought from of Lawson GORDON, I think in the year 1839--some 13 in number. I built a pen at the end of our log house, of which the house formed one end , and put the sheep into it every night. One night forgetting to shut up the gap or entrance, the wolves got among them and killed all but one. This one got among the cattle, who protected it. About this time we had raised some four or five calves. The wolves got among them, near the house, in the night-time. We heard the calves bleat and ran out as quick as possible. We found three of them kicking and bleeding to death. Z. B. FOWLER had three calves in a lot a short distance from there. The wolves went directly to them, and killed two before we could drive them off. There is one more little feature that I wish to mention. The first year we mowed our marsh land we killed 125 massassugers, besides black snakes measuring from three to eight feet in length.

In connection with this history I will relate a little incident, showing the wildness of the country and the difficult transit to the capital west. During the month of May Mr. TOWNSEND, of the city of New York came from Detroit to our place on horseback, wishing me to accompany him to his land, located on section number 22, where the city of Lansing now is. I objected somewhat, knowing the wildness of the country and the distance, but he insisted upon my going. I told him I could stand it if he could, so we agreed to start and he went for his horse. I told him that he must go on foot , as there were no bridges or roads except marked trees and a trail. He remonstrated and said "You don’t know anything about your own country." Then taking from his pocket some papers, he says: "Look here; there are two villages between here and my lands," showing me a map of Williamston and Okemos, with hotels, mills and mill ponds. I told him they were paper villages, as there were no hotels or villages in that part. This rather stumped him, still he was very anxious to see if he was so badly deceived. He had on a pair of heavy, high cloth shoes. I offered him a pair of thick cow hide boots, but he refused them, saying he had the shoes made on purpose for the trip. We put some meat and bread in or pockets--all we could conveniently carry--and took the line of the Detroit and Grand River road. Arriving at Williamston I asked him to show me the hotel and mills. He says, "Is it possible that, people will thus deceive a man?" there being nothin there but a little shanty on the north side of the river, and that desolate. We sat down and ate a little bread and meat, and then started for Okemos; found nothing there but the camp of the old Okemos. We went on to Grand River, where the Cedar empties into it, arriving there a little before sunset. We found an Indian camp in the forks of the rivers, and made our way across to it by the help of their canoe. The old squaw, with whom I was somewhat acquainted, got us some boiled corn and venison, and a good cup of tea, of which I partook heartily. Mr. T. Only drank a little of his tea and ate his meat and bread. The squaw spread down two large bear skins and a white blanket, and says, "Shemokemen sleep there," and we laid down. About midnight the wolves began to howl. Mr. T. soon got up and began to shake me,

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