Editor’s Note: This is an ongoing series which runs each Thursday morning titled the Richland Chronicles by author Paul Lintern. It is set in 1831 and tells the story of Richland County through the eyes of a young girl.

The remaining month of Amelia’s visit slipped by quickly. The more she got to know where things were, and how things were done, the more Ohio seemed like home.

Suddenly, one day, it occurred to Amelia that she had to really think about the appearance of her house in Boston, or even the sound of her father’s voice.

It worried her that Ohio may fade in the same way, once she returned home. It made her determined to use each of her remaining hours soaking up the sounds, sights and smells — especially smells — since she no longer had to wear Johnny’s salve on her wrist.

Her arm was stronger, and her scars less tender each day. She had waited another week before picking up her violin, but her nightly concerts at the Inn had started up again. Now she was able to ride Chestnut, run confidently and jump in the water hole without fear (and still without the boys).

She found herself walking around the Inn and farm, along the roads to Olivesburgh and Mansfield, through the woods, alone or with others, looking intently all around her, as if trying to place permanent images in her mind.

She listened to those around her, as though trying to memorize the sounds of their voices or whatever activity was nearby.

She found herself standing in the square of Mansfield one morning, having accompanied Uncle Jacob and Autumn on some errands, and she just wanted to stare, to memorize the center of this village.

Some village squares are just symbolic, not square at all, but in Mansfield, each side of the square was exactly five chains long, a chain being 33 1/3 feet in length. The square was an open field, with the stores and houses facing the square on all four sides. 

There was West and East Diamond Streets on two sides, and North and South Park on the other two sides, with Market Street going through the middle of the square.

Only two buildings sat inside the square — the brand new two-story brick courthouse on the north side, and a simple wooden two-story market house in the middle, where farmers and other merchants could rent space to sell their wares every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday morning.

Amelia remembered that, when she first arrived, she thought the Courthouse was ugly. Now, while it still wasn’t any prettier, at least it had a special meaning to her.

Uncle Jacob had taken her inside to meet Mr. Edgington, the County Recorder, who later had come to hear her play the violin. He and his wife even made a special trip to wish her well after her accident.

She saw the tall Presbyterian Church on the southwest side and remembered hearing that they had prayed for her while she was sick, and she wasn’t even sure what a Presbyterian was.

There was Mr. May, the attorney, walking to the Courthouse with Mr. Coffinberry, another attorney, who somehow was related to Elizabeth. As she scanned the square, she saw places to keep horses, stores for paper goods and fabrics and tools and grain, hotels and taverns for visitors to rest, the Methodist church, several homes, and lots of mud.

Nowhere was there a nice cobblestone or brick road, such as what was so familiar to her in Boston, but that didn’t really matter to Amelia anymore.

When she first arrived, she saw the differences from Boston as reasons why she didn’t like Ohio. Now, more often than not, those differences were becoming reasons why she did like Ohio.

As she slowly rotated to take in the square, Uncle Jacob and Autumn came into view, walking toward them from Mr. Arnold’s store.

“George wondered why you were boycotting him this morning,” Jacob said.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to offend him,” Amelia said. “I just wanted to take a good look at the square. I don’t know how many more times I will get to see this. I will run over to say hello to Mr. Arnold before we go back.”

“He would like that, but first, let me show you something,” Uncle Jacob said, and he pointed to the southeastern corner of the square. “Let’s head down the hill a little.”

They walked down East Diamond Street one block to First Street, then turned left another block to Sugar Street. They stopped by a house that Amelia had not seen before, but it was to a building in back that Jacob was pointing, a two-story log building with one door on the lower level and a square window on each side of the upper level overhang.

“Do you see that building in back there, that barn?”

The girls nodded.

“That is the old blockhouse. That building was built up there on the square to protect us, back when we were a new settlement, as the War of 1812 began. Some soldiers came here to build it, and at the time, it was our best protection.”

“Is that the building Aunt Elizabeth hid in when Appleseed John ran to Mt. Vernon to get the soldiers?” Autumn asked.

“Yes,” he said, then explained a little more to Amelia. “Everyone was afraid, because news did not travel as well in those days. We all thought the Indians would join with the British who were just north of us in Canada.

“One of the local merchants was killed and everyone thought we were all in danger. John was the best person to go throughout the area and warn people because he knew the land and he was trusted by both the settlers and the Indians.

“He ran all the way to Mt. Vernon, 25 miles, in bare feet, to warn people and bring help,” Autumn said.

“His efforts saved a lot of lives, of settlers who may have been killed by angry Indians, and Indians who would have been killed in retaliation,” Jacob said.

“That is one of the many reasons he always has a seat available at my table.”

“The building looks a little old.”

“It was only up for a few years, as our first courthouse, before it was sold to Mr. Cullen here, to live out its usefulness as a barn, ” he said. “It’s not much, but sometimes, little things make a big difference.”