Henry Clay Jones, the affable and genial treasurer of Douglas County, was born in Franklin County, Indiana, December 2, 1842, a son of Calvin and Hannah (Case) Jones. He was reared to manhood in his native County and in 1860 removed to Douglas County. In 1862 he joined Company K, Seventy-ninth Illinois Infantry, and served as a private soldier in the Civil war until June 12, 1865, when he was honorably discharged at Nashville, Tennessee. He was wounded in the leg in the battle of Liberty Gap, which prevented him from keeping up with his regiment until the battle of Missionary Ridge, in which he participated. During the time between the battles of Liberty Gap and Missionary Ridge he caught cold in the wound and was confined in the hospital for three months. After his release he rejoined his regiment and was with it in every fight until the close. After the war Mr. Jones returned to Douglas County and engaged in farming, at which he continued for six years, when he removed to Arthur and bought grain. He then returned to his farm where he remained until 1894, when he became the deputy under his half-brother, James Jones (see sketch), who was then serving as County treasurer. He continued in this position during the regular term of four years. In the fall of 1188 he was elected to this office, when his half-brother, James, became deputy treasurer.
On February 25, 1866, Mr. Jones married Miss Harriet E. York, who was a native of Ohio, and a daughter of Abner York. To their marriage were born three daughters: Elizabeth, wife of R. C. Hostetter, of near Marshalltown, Iowa; Laura, who is the wife of John Hostetter, a brother of R. C., and resides in Tuscola, and Nettie. Mrs. Jones’ death occurred in 1897. Mr. Jones is a member of the Grand Army of the Republic, also a member of the Methodist Episcopal Church. He owns a beautiful farm of two hundred and fifteen acres just south of Tuscola. As an official and an every day citizen Mr. Jones’ record in Douglas County is unimpeachable. His word is equal to his bond, which can be said of few, in this rumbling, blundering age of the almighty dollar.