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.

During the next month, Amelia became a Zeiters. She learned to feed the animals, and even overcame her fear of pigs.

She served meals at the tavern, walked through the woods, worked side-by-side with Autumn at whatever her task, visited Mansfield and did everything she could to become a 10-year-old rural Ohio girl for a summer.

She even started wearing one of Autumn’s dresses, which Autumn gladly gave her, even though she only had three. Amelia’s beautiful gowns remained in the trunks. And, she did go swimming again, but only with Autumn and Emily Pittinger, a girl from a nearby farm.

While she loved the feeling of becoming a Zeiters, she also remained a Pendergast. She played her Mozart Concertos for the visitors, ate properly with the correct silverware (whenever it was available), used no contractions, such as “can’t,” “won’t,” and most of all, “ain’t,” and longed to taste a steamed oyster, which was her father’s treat on special occasions.

The stream of guests became the most interesting part of Amelia’s stay. Every night she met people who were on their way somewhere, some with means, most with very little, some visiting family, others moving to another place to start over their lives, some on business, others on missions.

They were from the states of Pennsylvania, Kentucky, Virginia and Indiana, and from the Michigan territory. Some even came from Canada. Isaac was happy to point out that Canada is much closer than Boston to Mansfield.

They all brought news, and had stories to tell. Each night Uncle Jacob would interrogate his guests for news he could share with those who would follow. If his guests were not talkative, then he would read the newspaper to them, although sometimes he needed Autumn’s help in reading the small type by candlelight.

“Look here. It says that President Washington’s great granddaughter was married two weeks ago,” Jacob said.

“Which one,” a longbearded guest asked.

“Mary Anna Randolph Custis,” he said.

“Custis? That would have been from Martha’s first marriage,” the guest said. “That would make her the President’s…”

”Step-great-granddaughter, yes, I know,” said Jacob. “Still, that makes her almost royalty.”

“Who is the bloke she married?” another guest asked.

“Not familiar with this one,” Jacob said. “It says he is related to an important Virginia family, to Henry “Lighthorse” Lee, the one who convinced Virginia to join in the War for Independence.

“He is a new West Point graduate, this Robert E. Lee.”

”Probably be stuck in a fort out in Kansas, while his bride keeps house in Virginia,” longbeard laughed, and everyone joined in.

Uncle Jacob seemed happiest when he was being a source of information.

“It says here that over in Europe, Belgium has become independent from the Netherlands,” Jacob would say, or “Look, they have a new bridge in London, England, just opened for traffic — the London Bridge. I guess that’s a good name for it.”

He read of a steam engine that pulled several wagons along a track from Albany to Schenectady in New York, and that many places, including Mansfield, were organizing companies to build these new railroads from town to town.

It had only been earlier that year, while Amelia was in Boston, that she had heard about the first railroad in the United States. In Baltimore, a steam locomotive traveled 12 miles in only 25 minutes, faster than a horse can run at full speed.

It seemed strange to Amelia that even in this dark building in the middle of the wilderness, news of the day was reaching people, just as it did in the taverns and public squares in Massachusetts.

Word came of new inventions. A young man, Cyrus McCormick, had built a mechanical reaper for harvesting grain.

One night Jacob gave a toast to Ohio’s brand new Carroll County, “and its namesake, Charles Carroll, the last surviving signer of the Declaration of Independence. Although his death someday soon will bring an end to the beginning of our country, may it not be the beginning of the end.”

Soon after the Independence Day celebration, news had come that former President James Monroe died on July 4.

“Amelia and Autumn, here, are too young to remember this, but five years ago we had the same sort of news, times two,” Uncle Jacob said to everyone gathered. “John Adams and Thomas Jefferson both died on that July 4. It was the 50th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, which they wrote.

“Imagine that.”

“My parents have talked many times about the great John Adams,” Amelia said. “His home was only a few miles from where we live. Just last year, my mother saw his son, President John Quincy, at a lecture by Mr. Emerson.”

As she spoke, she noticed an unusual gleam in Uncle Jacob’s eyes. I wonder if he misses Boston, too, she thought. One story in particular seemed to upset Uncle Jacob, and caused much discussion and arguing in the tavern.

President Jackson was forcing Cherokee Indians from Georgia to move west, even though the Indians had adopted American ways, and had won a Supreme Court case to allow them to stay.

“Thousands are being forced out of their homes, illegally. The Indians here are being forced to move as well, within two more years,” he said.

“Wolf Paw, too?” Amelia asked.

Jacob nodded.

“It’s unfair,” she said. “And unnecessary. We have always gotten along with our Indian neighbors, at least around here.”

Not all the guests saw it that way. Some told stories of dishonest Indians– violent, drunk, mean-spirited, or foolish — while others replied with stories of brave, helpful, peaceful and generous Indians. Many opinions were expressed in the tavern, but none so loudly as those about Indians.

“I suppose it is really about the land,” Jacob suggested. “Land is what makes us rich and each generation wants new land to settle. My father wanted new land, so he came to America from Prussia; I wanted new land so I came to Ohio from Massachusetts. That’s just how things are, but it is unfortunate for those in the way.”

It had already been a full evening of food and music and storytelling, when suddenly Autumn stepped inside the doorway.

“John’s here,” she said.

“Your Uncle John?” Jacob asked.

Autumn gave a disapproving look.

“No, if it were I would have said Uncle John. You know who I am talking about. Appleseed John.”

“You sure?” Jacob asked.

“Father, you can tell it’s him from the other hillside. He is just up the road. Come out here, Amelia, and meet our friend. I’m sure he has news and stories and maybe a song, and certainly a sermon or two.”

“You go greet ol’ Appleseed and welcome him in. I have too much to do in here, doing all the chores my girls don’t have time to do because they are outside running around,” Jacob said.

Autumn wrinkled her nose at her father and out the door the girls went.