Early in the nineteenth century a citizen and observing author[14] says: “There is a prejudice against all preachers in this (Ohio) and all other states is certainly true; but, so far as we are acquainted with them, and we know them well, we are compelled to say that our clergymen in Ohio, especially those who have lived here ever since our first settlement, deserve unqualified praise for their zeal and good works. _No men in this state_ have been _so useful in building up society, in making us a moral and truly religious people_. “Their disinterestedness and benevolence; their kindness, forbearance and charity, zeal, industry and perseverance in well-doing, merit and receive the respect, gratitude and affection of all good men. They have labored zealously and faithfully and long, and their pay has been but trifling. We name them not, though we know them all. They have always been the true friends of liberty, and they would be the very last men in the nation to wish to overturn our free institutions.” The work of the clergy, though differing from that of the doctor, often caused them to meet on common ground, and they were alike fast friends of humanity and of each other. As a financial success neither could boast the superior; but in the good works in which they were engaged the minister of the gospel held the longer and stronger lever. With the doctor “death ended all;” but the lessons of the man of inspiration established a faith in a higher and everlasting existence, which shed its influence from the departed to the living, and placed in view another and higher kingdom. For many years the learned profession of law was a mere form, and practically remained on the statute books. Few indeed were the causes justifying legal investigation. Parties having grievances preferred to settle them in the primitive way. A single recorded instance so fully represents the infant scales of justice in Ohio that we quote the proceedings of the first court held in Greene county, in a public “tavern” with all the accommodations for man and beast. The first court-house in this county was not located within the area of the present city of Xenia, and it was by no means as pretentious as the present structure. A primitive log cabin with a single room, in a “clearing” of a few acres, some five miles west of the present county seat, a little off the road which leads from Xenia to Dayton, with Owen Davis’s mill on one side and a block-house on the other side of the stream, was the place where the blind goddess first set up her balances.