The editor of the Saginaw Valley Republican has been rusticating among “musquitoes, sundry fans, handkerchiefs, &c.” (lucky fellow) up the Shiawassee River, and gives an interesting account of probably the oldest Apple Orchard in Michigan and “big rock,” or Chesaning. He among other things became familiar with flea-botomy, which often engrosses the attention of travelers in other parts of the world, out side of Saginaw Valley – it is a great study upon a small subject and often so engrossing as to keep unprofessional minds occupied.
“When all the world is hushed in sweet repose,” (bed-bugs, bull-frogs and fleas excepted.) He says: –
We left St. Charles on Friday afternoon, and arrived at Chesaning in the evening, and took up our temporary abode at Goodale’s Hotel. We felt weary and sleepy, and no wonder. At St. Charles the fleas had been quite too familiar, and the bed bugs evidently considered their premises invaded, and consequently showed us no mercy; but Goodale did not entertain this class of boarders, and we enjoyed a good night’s repose.
The village of Chesaning has also improved somewhat within the past year, but we do not think it will ever be a very large place, although it has some natural advantages. It has a good water power and a very excellent farming country surrounding it, which will eventually make it a town of some importance. Some of the best, if not the best farms in the country are located on the banks of the Shiawassee River, in the township of Chesaning. This locality was formerly one of the favorite resorts of the Indians in the days of “long ago.” Here they raised their corn – held their councils of war – danced their war dances and smoked their pipes of peace. A few of the ancient landmarks still remain, but the most of them are blotted out forever. On the farm of George W. Chapman is still standing the “Indian Orchard” — a clump of apple trees, some of which are more than a foot in diameter. They are, however, fast going to decay, and they now bear but very little fruit. When these trees were planted cannot definitely known. The only information which have ever been obtained was from an aged squaw who visited the spot some years ago. She had been absent many years, and returned once more to the scene of her youth. On viewing these trees the old squaw wept like a child. She hugged them as a mother would her darling child, and tarried many weary hours beneath their branches. On being interrogated as to the cause of her grief, she replied: “These trees were planted by my Indian, when. he was a boy.” The old squaw was then nearly or quite eighty years of age, and she has been dead for several years.
Another curiosity which was held in reverence by the Indians is the big rock from which the township derives its name. (Chesaning signifies in Indian, “big rock.”) This rock is located about three-fourths of a mile from the village, on land owned by John Rose. It is about 20 by 30 feet at the base, and rises above the surface of the ground about seven feet. It has several large fissures in it and is gradually falling to pieces. The rock is of very singular formation. It is considerably impregnated with iron, and bears some resemblance to the rocks of Lake Superior. What makes it a greater curiosity is that no stone can be found in the immediate vicinity! It seems as if it had been dropped in its present location, or thrown from its place of formation by some great convulsion of nature. The Indians used to hold it in reverence as one of the works of the Great Spirit. [From the discription and it metallic qualities, we of the Farmer should judge that this rock was one aerolite which had struck the earth at this spot. Many such are known to exist in different parts of the world, having been plunged through space during the actual knowledge of man and seen to strike.]