History of Oakland County Michigan a narrative account of its historic progress, its people, its principal interests / compiled from the official records of the county, the newspapers and data of personal interviews, under the editorial supervision of Thaddeus D. Seeley.

-HISTORY OF OAKLAND COUNTY

the English, and, with a few of his followers, crossed to the Illinois
shore. Entering the village, he was soon known and invited to a grand
feast where liquor was freely circulated. The chief, with all his dignity
and natural strength of character, could not resist the native passion for
strong drink. After the feast was over and he was well under the influence of liquor, he strolled down the street into the adjacent woods,
where he was heard to sing the weird medicine songs of his race, which
proved for him to be his requiem. A Kaskaskia Indian followed close
behind, and his dead body was soon after found in a thicket. It is believed that the savage had been hired to tomahawk the great chief by an
English trader named Williamson, the wage for the dastardly act having
been the promise of a barrel of rum.
A terrible vengeance followed this great crime. The Indians of the
northwest united and almost exterminated the Illinois tribes, the remnants of whom never afterward cut any figure in history.
Whether Pontiac ever made the Orchard lake region his actual place
of abode is questionable, but he undoubtedly often passed through the
charming region, and that his name is attached to the metropolis of the
county is an added reason why his career and personality should be presented at some length.
VTHIE LEGEND OF MIE-NAH-SA-GOR-NIN(
One of the most noted of the Indian legends attaching to this region
has to do with Orchard lake, or more strictly speaking with the beautiful
Me-nah-sa-gor-ning (Apple island), which lies in its center. Many years
ago, Samuel M. Leggett, one of the county's old settlers, told the story
of this legend in verse, but at such length that it cannot be here reproduced. His introduction, however, furnishes matter which is both interesting and available. "In the state of Michigan," it says, "in one
county alone-that of Oakland-is a chain of beautiful lakes, some hundreds in number, many of them miles in length and width. Around these
wind the roadways, over beaches of white pebbles and shaded by the
'forests primeval.' Two rivers, the Huron and the Clinton, run through
these lakes, and, in their tortuous forms, wind, and turn, and twist, till
after a course of hundreds of miles, they at last rest in Lakes Erie and
St. Clair. These rivers are in the summer dotted with the water-lily, as
they flow on through the 'openings,' and on their banks are huge old oaks
under which, in the days that are gone, stood many a wigwam.
"The legend which I have attempted to verify is founded upon an
incident occurring at Orchard lake long before the coming of the white
man and while the grand farms now lying around it were merely a vast
oak opening, its sole occupant the Indian and the wild beast. Very near
the center of this Orchard lake is a farge island, wooded to its very shore.
On it are a few apple trees, old and gnarled, remnants of an orchard
planted so long ago that the Indians even have no data concerning it.
Its name, Me-nah-sa-gor-ning, meaning "apple place," still lives in tradition.
"On this island the Algonquin chief, Pontiac, had his lodge after
his repulse at the siege of Detroit. On the high bank of this lake, oppo