CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
Cornell University Library 
 F 1S9E7 M82 
 
 Occasional writings of Isaac Moorhead: w 
 
 olin 
 
 3 1924 028 862 328 
 
The original of tliis book is in 
 tlie Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://archive.org/details/cu31924028862328 
 
THE OCCASIONAL WRITINGS 
 
 OF 
 
 ISAAC MOORHEAD; 
 
 WITH A 
 
 SKETCH OF HIS LIFE 
 
 BY A. H. C. 
 
 Non omnis rnoriar. — Hon. 
 
 ERIE, PENN. 
 
 A. H. CAUG^EY, PUBLISHER. 
 
 1882. 
 
 ^ 
 

 'X 
 
 A 
 
 'J:.. ^'XO' 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1882. 
 By A. H. CAUGHEY. 
 
 PKESS OF 
 
 IHE OLAKEMONT MANUFACTUKING CO., 
 
 CLAKEMONT, N. H. 
 
 /IH.W. 
 L L C. 462 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 This volume has been prepared at the suggestion of 
 friends of the late Isaac Moorhead as a Memorial of 
 his worth as a man and his ability as a writer, and in 
 order to preserve in this more permanent form some 
 portion of his valuable writings. 
 
 Most of the articles appeared originally in the form of 
 Letters contributed to one or other of the newspapers of 
 his native town. They were read at the time with a 
 great deal of interest, and are still remembered, both on 
 account of their literary merit, and because they are 
 laden with many important facts of local and general 
 history. 
 
 The titles of the various pieces generally indicate suf- 
 ficiently their character and the time when they were 
 written. Other explanations with regard to them will 
 be found in the sketch of his life which precedes, or in 
 brief notes in the course of the volume. The compiler 
 and editor, in addition to preparing the slretch just men- 
 tioned, has done little more than arrange the order of 
 the articles and correct manifest errors arising from over- 
 sight or accident. No doubt literary critics may dis- 
 cover defects here and there, not only in the editor's 
 work, But possibly also in the Letters themselves ; but 
 it should be remembered that the latter were thrown off 
 by Mr. Moorhead in the midst of absorbing business 
 
 i ' 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 engagements, and that he enjoyed no subsequent oppor- 
 tunity for their revision and correction. 
 
 The work is not published with any purpose or expec- 
 tation of pecuniary advantage either to the editor and 
 publisher or to the family of Mr. Moorhead. ThS edi- 
 tion is limited to three hundred copies ; and these were 
 nearly all subscribed for in advance by the lamented 
 author's many warm personal friends, — the price per 
 volume being gauged by the cost of publication. 
 
 The sketch of the early history of Erie County, men- 
 tioned on page 38, is omitted from the volume. Its 
 length would have added considerably to the size of the 
 book ; and it seemed proper, moreover, that when pub- 
 lished — as it doubtless will be in due time — it should be 
 in connection with the other Historical Sketches prepared 
 at the same time under the auspices of the Historical So- 
 ciety. 
 
 The preparation of this work for the press has been a 
 labor of love and of deep interest to the writer. He 
 only regrets that through his constant engagement in 
 other and often distracting duties, he was not able to 
 devote to it that very careful attention which he was 
 most willing to give, and which the great merits and 
 value of the writings themselves demanded. 
 
 A. H. Caughey. 
 
 Erie, Pa., Jan'y 11, 1882. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Isaac Moorhead, 1 
 
 Some Things Seen on the Cahs : 
 
 I. The Night Express EasTj 57 
 
 n. Cincinnati Express, 65 
 
 III. The Night Express West FROM Buffalo, 75 
 
 A Visit to Gettysruhg, 80 
 
 Virginia Battle-fields : 
 
 I. Fredericksburg, ; 92 
 
 II. Fredericksburg continued, 103 
 
 in. Chancellorsville, 114 
 
 IV. Chancellorsville continued, 127 
 
 V. Visit to Petersburgh, 135 
 
 VI. Battle of Gaines' Mill, 144 
 
 Old Times in Erie : 
 
 I. A Boy's Walk around the Diamond, .... 158 
 
 II. A Boy's Walk down Sixth Street, 166 
 
 III. A Boy's Walk down State Street,.... 178 
 rv. Old French Street and Presque Isle Bat, 188 
 
 V. Old French Street and Presque Isle Bay 
 continued, 194 
 
 VI. A Boy's Walk down Peach Street, .... 204 
 
 VII. The Old Academy, 212 
 
 Selections from the History of the Barnett 
 
 Family, 226 
 
 Old Hanoter Church, 247 
 
ISAAC MOOEHEAD. 
 
 Possibly no active man has ever taken leave of 
 the world and its busy affairs of whom it could be 
 said with truth that he left not an enemy behind. 
 There must be misunderstandings; there must be 
 crossings of interests ; there must alwaj-s be busy 
 tongues to stir up strifes, and utter words that be- 
 come seeds of enmity in the heart. But if ever 
 there was one who had been a positive, straightfor- 
 ward, active man among men for the greater part 
 of half a century, of whom it could be said at the 
 close of his career that he had no enemies, that 
 man was Isaac Moorhead. 
 
 And not only so, but rarely if ever has there 
 been one, born and reared among us, and person- 
 ally known to thousands of people, whose death 
 has been felt as a personal grief and loss by so 
 many. There was that in his character, his pure 
 and upright life, his bearing towards all with whom 
 he had to do, that made every one his fi-iend. Fill- 
 ing during nearly the whole period of his life a 
 
2 ISAAC MOOEHEAD. 
 
 private .station, and performing the laborious work 
 of a perilous and responsible calling, and later dis- 
 charging the duties of an important public office 
 in a most efficient and acceptable manner, he so 
 bore himself as to gain the admiration and confi- 
 dence alike of those who were above him in authori- 
 ty and of those whom he controlled, and to receive 
 the love and kindly regard both of his intimate 
 friends and of casual acquaintances. 
 
 While Mr. Moorhead was not, in the ordinary 
 sense of the term, a great man, he yet possessed 
 elements of greatness. He had that within him 
 which, on a higher plane of action, would have en- 
 abled him to stand among the distinguished men 
 of his time. Physical limitations, want of oppor- 
 tunity, the absence of ambition, lack of proper 
 self-appreciation, — one or all of these served to 
 keep him, as they have kept many others of equal 
 or greater ability, within a narrow circle both 
 of development and of action. 
 
 One who undertook to characterize President 
 Lincoln once said of him, that he was a man of 
 apparently two distinct natures. One of these 
 showed itself in the ease with which he was able to 
 meet men of all classes and characters on their own 
 ground, and to enter with alacrity into the rude 
 activity and jocose merriment of every day life. 
 The other nature was the inner one, that of the 
 real man, sincere, earnest, strongly intellectual, 
 loving men, honoring God, — ready at all times to 
 
ISAAC MOOBEEAD. s 
 
 go forward unflinchingly in the discharge of duty. 
 Something of the same dual nature appeared in 
 Isaac Moorhead. On one side he seemed to have 
 all the characteristics of a man of the world. He 
 enjoyed the business that he had chosen for his life 
 work. He understood men — read their characters 
 easily and accurately. .He had a keen sense of the 
 ludicrous, and was very ready in jest and repartee. 
 Beneath this rougher exterior there were the best 
 qualities of the most refined nature — love of purity 
 in life and thought ; a most chivalric sense of honor 
 and the demands of duty ; a deep feeling of religi- 
 ous obligation ; a love of whatever was most ele- 
 vated in literature, and most refined and tasteful in 
 art; and a fondness, amounting almost to a passion, 
 for the grand and beautiful in the various forms and 
 developments of nature. It is the life and character 
 of such a man that the writer, who enjoyed the priv- 
 ilege of being one in his circle of intimate friends 
 for more than thirty years, and who still keenly 
 feels his irreparable loss, now attempts briefly to 
 sketch. 
 
 Born in Erie, Pa., January 28th, 1828, his earli- 
 est recollections were of a town of not more than 
 three thousand people, about one tenth of its pres- 
 ent population. He first saw the light in a house 
 on the north side of Sixth street, near the corner of 
 French. This has long since disappeared— much to 
 the grief of him who claimed it as his first home; 
 for he had ever great attachment to places made 
 
j^ ISAAC MOOREEAD. 
 
 sacred to him by the residence of his family or any 
 of his ancestors. His father, Thomas Moorhead, 
 with jr. attached to the name during most of his 
 life, to distinguish him from his father, whose name 
 was also Thomas, was one of the younger members 
 of the large family of Moorheads who established 
 themselves near the town of Erie about the begin- 
 ning of the present century, and whose descend- 
 ants and relatives are now counted by hundreds in 
 this region bordering the lake. The early settlers 
 of this name came from Lancaster countj', Pennsyl- 
 vania. A sturdy, upright, God-fearing race, they 
 trace their historj', and their name as Muirheads, 
 back among the Covenanters of old Scotland, and 
 to the "times that tried men's souls". 
 
 The mother of Mr. Moorhead was Rebekah, 
 youngest daughter of Moses Baniett. He was not 
 so well known, either in the early or later history 
 of the county, as was her brother Eichard Barnett — 
 a man, of sterling worth, strong-headed and big- 
 hearted and earnest-willed, with elements in him 
 of tlie same Scotch ancestry from which the Moor- 
 heads were descended, but crossed with no little of 
 the Irish wit and vivacity that attached to the fam- 
 ily nature as the result apparently of their long so- 
 journ in Ireland before emigrating to America. 
 
 As a boy Isaac spent much of his time at his 
 Grandfather Barnett's in the country, — "Uncle 
 Dick's" as he was accustomed to call the place 
 in later years. It was here, and during his fre- 
 
ISAAC MOORHEAD. 5 
 
 queut visits to his Moorhead relatives in Harbor- 
 creek, that his love of nature and of a country life 
 was developed and strengthened. Even in his latest 
 years, a day in the country, wandering through the 
 woods and over the green fields, listening to the 
 chorus of birds and meadow insects, was something 
 to be looked forward to and deeply enjoyed. Es- 
 pecially did he enjoy such a visit in the spring of 
 the year, when his dear friends, the birds, every 
 one of which he knew by name and note and plu- 
 mage, were returning to their haunts and were busy 
 with their mating and nesting. 
 
 In the year 1838 he became a student of the 
 Erie Academy, first under the principalship of 
 James Q. Park, and afterwards under that of 
 Eeid T. Stewart. Between the administrations of 
 these two excellent teachers he spent a year or 
 two in the select school of Mr. Asa Foster, and 
 later in that of Lemuel G. Olmstead. The latter 
 was a most thorough and pains-taking teacher and 
 an. enthusiast in some of the natural sciences, as 
 botany, zoology, etc., and it was with him that 
 Isaac, already, as we have seen, a fond observer 
 and student of nature, acquired much of the ac- 
 curate knowledge he possessed concerning birds 
 and flowers and rocks. While a bright scholar 
 and learning easily whatever he was set to study, 
 he was by no means one of those students who ex- 
 emplify the saying that "All work (or study) and 
 no play makes Jack a dull boy." His keen sense 
 
e "■ ISAAC MOORHEAD. 
 
 of humor, and the quickness with which he saw 
 and the thoroughness with which he enjoyed a 
 joke, practical or verbal, and the zest with which 
 he took part in the various pranks that school- 
 boys are never at a loss in devising, made him a 
 great favorite with all his mates and a leading 
 spirit in whatever required talent in originating 
 and address in carrying into execution. 
 
 But he had higher qualities than those of fun- 
 making and school-boy tricks. One of his early 
 school-mates thus speaks of him : "Mr. Moorhead 
 was noted when quite young for his devotion to 
 what he considered as right, and his zealous ad- 
 vocacy of the principles imbibed by him; and at 
 the same time for his manliness towards an oppo- 
 nent. I remember a little incident illustrating 
 this feature of his character, which occurred in the 
 summer of 1838, when he attended the Academy, 
 his parents at that time residing on the north east 
 corner of Peach and Eighth streets, where the man- 
 sion of H. M. Reed, Esq., now stands. A boy_of 
 a quarrelsome disposition came along in that vicin- 
 ity, and attempted to impose on some small boy 
 without any cause. Moorhead at once interfered, 
 and although younger and smaller than the bully, 
 he resolutely undertook to protect the endangered 
 youth, at the risk to himself of a sound beating. 
 But such were his manliness and generosity that 
 he would rather hazard a whipping than stand by 
 and see a young boy imposed upon. 
 
ISAAC MOOESEAD. 7 
 
 "Another instance of Mr. Moorhead's resolute 
 adherence to what he regarded as right, was shown 
 a few years later. A resolution was by some means 
 passed (without legal authority, as Moorhead firm- 
 ly believed,) to transfer the Library and other prop- 
 erty of the old Apprentices' Society, to which he 
 was greatly attached, from the Grand Jury room 
 in the court house, where it had long been located, 
 to the Academy, the final act of the merging of 
 the Apprentices' into the Irving Institute. Mr. 
 M. was librarian at the time, and believing, as he 
 did, that the transfer was without right, he refused 
 to deliver up the keys, until satisfied that he could 
 no longer resist legally; and even then, so strong 
 was his conviction of the injustice of the act that 
 he refused to deliver the keys formally, but com- 
 pelled the parties seeking them to go and get them 
 where he had placed them. He refused to be a 
 voluntary party to the consummation of what he 
 regarded as a wrong, and even braved imprison- 
 ment rather than yield to injustice." 
 
 The same gentleman speaks of being joined with 
 Mr. Moorhead, when they were young fellows to- 
 gether, in organizing and maintaining the "cele- 
 brated Owl- Club", which, ho says, "for several years 
 created quite a sensation here (in Erie), and the 
 history of which found its way into that noted 
 magazine, the 'Knickerbocker'". He acted as 
 secretary for nearly the entire time of its existence, 
 and faithfully discharged the dutiesof the position. 
 
8 ISAAC MOOREEAD. 
 
 "Mr. Moorhead was also Vice President, or in 
 other ^ords 'Grand Hooter', of this well known as- 
 sociation. The society was composed of boys. 
 They had little means, and could not always pay 
 the rent of the room occupied by them, which 
 was in the third story of the Perry Block. The 
 o-entleman whose business it was to collect the rent 
 persistently pressed the boys for the amount due. 
 But not being able to pay promptly, and the room 
 having been for years prior to that time vacant, 
 they did not consider that the landlord ought to 
 be 80 urgent about the rent. He stated to the of- 
 ficers that he would call when the society was in 
 session and state his case to the meeting formally. 
 On the coming of the meeting the claimant of rent 
 made his appearance. As he reached the door, all 
 was silent, and darkness reigned in the room in a 
 moment. After some parleying the visitor was ad- 
 mitted, but it was under circumstances that forced 
 from him an unwilling cancellation of any indebt- 
 edness claimed by him. The boys had arranged 
 matters as follows. They had several jaw bones, 
 swords, banjos, muskets, and other weapons of a 
 sonorous character, which were immediately put 
 into requisition on the admission of their visitor. 
 The clangor of swords, muskets, bayonets, and jaw 
 bones, coupled with the darkness and the hoarse 
 voices of some of the loud-voiced members, so 
 worked upon his excited sensibilities, that he beg- 
 ged to be released from the room, and solemnly 
 
ISAAG MOORHEAD. 9 
 
 promised that he would never say rent again, nor 
 disturb the boys in their amusements. He after- 
 wards frequently related the incident and gave the 
 boys credit for being too shrewd for an old man." 
 
 Although but a boy, Moorhead was one of the 
 most active and useful members both of the "Young 
 Men's Association" and of its successor the "Irving 
 Literary Institute". For four or five years he was 
 one of the editors of The Literary Review, a paper 
 written for the "Irving Institute" and read every 
 Saturday evening at the meetings. It contained 
 much that would be interesting to some of our older 
 citizens now — reminiscences of old times in the 
 town and neighborhood, biographical sketches of 
 the members and of prominent citizens, now long 
 deceased, and local matters of various kinds. While 
 a student of the Academy he aided in getting up a 
 Scholars' Literary Journal, and continued to act 
 as one of the editors during the entire period of 
 Reid T. Stewart's adnainistration as Principal of 
 the Academy. 
 
 Moorhead left school in 1845 — a year memorable 
 to many old Academy students as that in which 
 their beloved principal. Held T. Stewart, died. 
 For the three or four years next following, he assist- 
 ed his father, who was Register and Recorder of the 
 county, in his office ; and it was here that he ac- 
 quired, or perfected, the bold and symmetrical style 
 of penmanship that was one of his noticeable accom- 
 plishments. 
 
10 ISAAC MOORHEAD. 
 
 His health being delicate, he went, late in the au- 
 tumn of 1848, to Dayton, Ohio, to spend the winter 
 with his Uncle, Joseph Barnett, who resided there. 
 This visit and the trip thither constituted one of the 
 'memorable episodes in bis earlier life, and furnish- 
 ed hira with a large fund of reminscences and anec- 
 dotes ever afterwards. A party of four young men 
 of nearly his own age, namely, John C. Reid, D. 
 B. Mc Creary, A. H. Caughey and John B. Gunni- 
 son, were leaving home at about the same time, and 
 they planned to go with him as far as the city of 
 Pittsburgh. It was some years before the introduc- 
 tion of railroads in the Lake Shore region. Two 
 modes of conveyance v^ere open to the traveller, 
 one by stage-coach over what was a very good 
 road in dry weather, except that the many hills to 
 be climbed were nearly as Steep as nature made 
 them ; the other by the Erie Extension Canal and 
 the Ohio river. A two or three days' journey 
 was before our young gentlemen by either route; 
 but the prospect of fun and freedom was greater 
 by the canal packet, which, in spite of its slow pro- 
 gress of four or five miles an hour, held out the in- 
 ducement of "three square meals" a day, a quiet 
 seat or lounge in the "state room", and a foot race 
 when desired with the horses on the towing-path. 
 The incidents of this trip were doubtless noted 
 down by more than one member of the party; but 
 if a journal was kept by any, it is not now availa- 
 ble. 
 
ISAAC MOOSHEAD, 11 
 
 One of the methods adopted for whiling away 
 the lingering hours — when they had grown tired 
 of talking and laughing and playing jokes on one 
 another — was that of singing. ISTone of the~party 
 were particularly noted for their musical performan- 
 ces at home. In fact one or two of them could do 
 no more than stand up with the rest and open and 
 shut their mouths in simulation of musical articu- 
 lation. But after they had sung together a few of 
 the popular songs of the day, the remaining pas- 
 sengers seemed greatly delighted, and prevailed on 
 them to repeat the exercise. Whereupon the par- 
 ty quietly assumed to be a traveling concert com- 
 pany, the "Nicholson Family", on their way to 
 Pittsburgh. Their concert tour ended, however, 
 when they left the steam-boat at that city — for the 
 canal packet was exchanged for a steamer when 
 the Ohio river was reached 30 miles below. At 
 Pittsburgh the friends separated — two for college; 
 Mr. Moorhead taking a steamer to continue his 
 journey to Dayton ; the rest proceeding to other 
 destinations; and thus the "Nicholson Family" 
 was disbanded. 
 
 This visit to Dayton was of great importance to 
 Mr. Moorhead, and to some extent it was the turn- 
 ing point in his life. His Uncle Barnett and his 
 wife, who had no children of their own, became 
 very much attached to him, and tried to persuade 
 his parents to let him remain in their family. Mr. 
 Barnett was a man of considerable wealth, and was 
 
12 ISAAC MOOREEAD. 
 
 engaged in the iron business; and, being somewhat 
 advanced in life, he wished to set his nephew up in 
 business in Dayton under his own eye, in the same 
 branch of trade in which he himself was engaged. 
 His ofters were most liberal, and such as it was hard 
 for a young raau who had his own way to make 
 in the world to decline. But the attachment of 
 home and friends, and the prospect of embarking 
 in business in his native town, determined him fi- 
 nally to forego the offer made by his uncle. His 
 fathei- joining soon after in a mercantile enterprise 
 with Thomas and Alexander Hughes, they opened 
 a store on State street, near the corner of Seventh, 
 and Isaac was engaged for the next year or two in 
 this business. 
 
 But the New York Central Railroad was already 
 (1849) completed to Buffalo, and the great New 
 York and Erie was rapidly progressing towards the 
 Lake. It was believed that the company prosecut- 
 ing the latter might be induced to make Erie the 
 terminus of their road instead of Dunkirk. A com- 
 pany was therefore formed to construct a railroad 
 from Erie to the N. Y. state line, with a view of 
 connecting there with the New York and Erie Eoad, 
 which it was hoped would be extended towards 
 the west. A corps of engineers was formed under 
 the charge of James C. Reid, one of the most 
 accomplished of mathematicians and civil engineers, 
 to survey and lay out the road and superintend the 
 work of construction ; and Isaac Moorhead, Wil- 
 
ISAAC MOORHEAD. XS 
 
 liam W. Eeed, William Brewster, John C. Reid 
 aud several other Erie young men joined the corps. 
 This was in 1850-51, and Mr, Moorhead was em- 
 ployed in this capacity until the completion of the 
 road. 
 
 When the Erie aud North East Eailroad, aa it 
 was originally called, was opened for business in the 
 winter of 1851-52, Mr. Moorhead became pay- 
 master, and after a few months, at his own request, 
 conductor of one of the two passenger trains put 
 upon it, Mr. John Moore having charge of the 
 other. The trains were run to the Bew York state 
 line, three miles below North East. The Buffalo 
 and State Line Road had recently been finished to 
 the same point ; but having a gauge of four feet 
 eight and a half inches, while that of the Erie and 
 North East was of six feet, a transfer of passengers 
 and baggage had to be made from one road to the 
 other. The Cleveland, Painesville and Ashtabula 
 Railroad, with a four feet ten inch gauge, was ex- 
 tended to Erie in the fall of 1852. The New York 
 & Erie Railroad having been completed through to 
 Dunkirk, expectations were high that it would be 
 extended to connect with the Erie and North East 
 Road at the state line. But these expectations were 
 never realized, and for some two years the Erie 
 and North East Company continued to operate 
 their broad gauge road, of only twenty miles in 
 length, as a connecting link between the two nar- 
 row gauge roads, the one coming from Ohio and 
 
H ISAAC MOOMEEAD. 
 
 the other from New York. This double change 
 of cars within so short a distance was a great in- 
 convenience and annoyance to the travelling and 
 business public, and the pressure for relief became 
 verj' strong. 
 
 At length the change came ; the S'railroad war" 
 followed ; and in due time there was a road of uni- 
 form width of track from Buffalo to Cleveland — in 
 fact from tide water to Chicago and the further 
 West. 
 
 The period of the railroad war was one that tested 
 the stuff of which Mr. Moorhead was made. He 
 had to run a train daily through the "seat of war" in 
 Harborcreek and the neighborhood of Erie when 
 the condition of the road permitted. Otherwise 
 coaches and wagons, or sometimes sleighs, were to 
 be provided, and the disgusted and impatient pas- 
 sengers to be transferred to these and conveyed 
 seven or eight miles through mud and storm, or 
 drifting snows, around the broken bridges or torn 
 up tracks. To do this in the midst of a hostile 
 population, and when threats of bodily injury were 
 not infrequent, and to do it calmly, resolutely and 
 in a way not calculated to excite and exasperate, 
 required discretion, tact and good judgment in a 
 more than ordinary degree. He performed his 
 duty faithfully and fearlessly, and yet in such a 
 spirit of manly conciliation and considerateness as 
 to gain the respect and good will of all except the 
 reckless and evil-minded. In fact throughout his 
 
ISAAC MOOBHEAD. 15 
 
 long career in his hazardous vocation as a railroad 
 conductor, he never seemed to be affected by fear. 
 Watchful and prudent in the management of his 
 train, and solicitous for the comfort and welfare of 
 others, he seemed to take no thought for himself 
 when the path x)f duty lay through peril and diffi- 
 culty. So that some of his nearest friends have 
 said of him that he was absolutely without fear. 
 
 In September, 1853, Mr. Moorhead was united 
 in marriage with Miss Caroline Hoskinson, eldest 
 daughter of William and Eleanor Hoskinson. It 
 was a true union of mutual affection, and their 
 married life proved an exceptionally happy one. 
 There were ever between them mutual forbear- 
 ance, mutual helpfulness, and a community of 
 tastes ; and while there was congeniality of dis- 
 position, there was enough of that independence 
 of thought and feeling on either side that furnish- 
 es the spice of married life. Three children were 
 born to them, the eldest of whom died in infancy. 
 Ruth, now Mrs. Fred Metcalf,and Maxwell Wood, 
 three to four years younger, are children of such 
 worth and talent and dutifulness that any parents 
 might well be proud of them. The love between 
 the father and daughter especially, and his fond 
 admiration of her as the bright star of his home, 
 were beautiful to behold. 
 
 In 1858 Mr. Moorhead bought the fine property 
 on West Seventh street which continued to be his 
 home for the remainder of his life. He took great 
 
26 ISAAC MOORHEAD. 
 
 pleasure in improving and adorning it, and never 
 was 80 happy as when in this pleasant home, in the 
 midst of his books and the rare gatherings of his an- 
 tiquarian and historical taste, with his family about 
 him, or when entertaining a few cherished friends. 
 It was here that the genuine worth of the man, 
 and the native gentility and beauty of his charac- 
 ter, appeared at their best. So much withdrawn 
 from his home as he was by the demands of his 
 exacting business, it grew more and more dear to 
 him, and was truly his haven of rest and delight. 
 
 During" that marked period of political turmoil 
 and excitement from 1852 to 1860, Mr. Moor- 
 head, though taking no active part in politics, was 
 an intelligent and deeply interested spectator. 
 Trained a Whig, he had borne his full share as 
 boy and young man in the stirring Presidential 
 campaigns of 1840 and 1844, taking part in the 
 processions, the song-singing, and all the hurrah- 
 ing and enthusiasm of those eventful times. La- 
 menting, as did so many others, with an almost 
 personal grief, the defeat of gallant Henry Clay, 
 and rejoicing in the triumph of the blunt old 
 soldier, Taylor, in 1848, he was not prepared 
 to desert the Whig standard when it went down 
 in defeat in the hands of the hero of two wars, 
 General Scott, in 1852. When therefore the 
 broken elements of the party began, in 1853-4, 
 to crystalize about the knot of anti-slavery men 
 calling themselves Free-soilers, and to take shape 
 
ISAAC MOOREEAD. n 
 
 as the Republican party, nominating John C. Fre- 
 mont as their candidate for President in 1856, like 
 multitudes of other " Old Line Whigs," Mr. 
 Moorhead could not see his way clear to desert the 
 old and join the new standard, especially while 
 such sterling patriots and Whigs as John Bell and 
 Edward Everett were still clinging to the old flag 
 and gallantly bearing it forward, albeit to utter 
 and assured defeat. Buchanan was elected. The 
 Kansas-Nebraska troubles broke out. The Repub- 
 lican party began to grow rapidly, with constant 
 accretions from both Whigs and Democrats. The 
 year 1860 dawned, and Abraham Lincoln was nom- 
 inated and elected ; and the threats and animosi- 
 ties and border conflicts of four years developed 
 into secession and the great Civil War 
 
 From the very outset Mr. Moorhead, notwith- 
 standing his natural inclination to peace and con- 
 servative measures, was heartily on the side of the 
 government. The nerveless policy of President 
 Buchanan during the anxious months succeeding 
 the election of Mr. Lincoln ; the manifest deter- 
 mination of the southern leaders to carry out at 
 all hazards their purpose of secession; and flnally 
 the firing upon Fort Sumter, made a war patriot 
 of every true friend of the Union. 
 
 As a member of the fine military company, the 
 "Wayne Guards," of which John W. McLane 
 (afterwards Colonel of the 83d Penn. regiment) 
 was captain, Mr. Moorhead was disposed to go 
 
18 ISAAC MOOREEAD. 
 
 with the company should they resolve to tender 
 their services to the government. But when it 
 was finally determined to raise a full regiment for 
 the three months service, and to divide the Guards 
 up into squads, each to serve as the nucleus of a 
 new company officered by the well-drilled mem- 
 bers of the old, Mr. Moorhead, like many others of 
 the members, came to the conclusion not to volun- 
 teer as an individual and connect himself with a 
 new company — especially as more than enough to 
 fill the regiment were pressing forward to join its 
 ranks. But no apology is needed for the thous- 
 ands of good and true men, who, though not 
 shouldering a musket and rendering actual service 
 in the field, were sustaining the government by 
 giving aid to its cause in all proper ways at home, 
 and by helping to carry on the necessary business 
 of the country. One of his close personal friends 
 thus speaks of Mr. Moorhead's deep interest in the 
 cause of the country, and of his exceedingly valu- 
 able services both to the government and to those 
 in the field, or suffering in prison or hospital, 
 whom he could in any way aid by his means or by 
 active interference in their behalf: 
 . "He was supremely loyal to the Union," writes 
 this friend, "and regarded with intense interest all 
 the measures of the government for the suppres- 
 sion of the rebellion— studying with great intelli- 
 gence the movements of the armies engaged in 
 that great confiict. He had many personal friends in 
 
ISAAC MOOBEEAD. jg 
 
 the army, especially in the various military organ- 
 izations that went from Erie County. These 
 friends he watched and bore in his thoughts during 
 the long contest with unceasing solicitude. For 
 them, and for the welfare of themselves and their 
 families, his heart ever beat warmly. Many were 
 the kindly remembrances that reached them from 
 his unselfish hand, and many were the encourag- 
 ing letters written by Mm to cheer them in the 
 performance of their arduous and dangerous duties, 
 and to assure them that the sacrifices they were 
 making were not forgotten nor unappreciated by 
 their friends at home. It can be truly said of Mr. 
 Moorhead that he never omitted an opportunity to 
 show to those engaged in the war, whether officers 
 or privates, that he was their true friend ; and no 
 sacrifice was too great for him to make when he 
 could add to their comfort. Often has he been 
 known to delay his train at stations between Erie 
 and Buffalo, when he saw coming in the distance 
 some soldier accompanied by his father, or his wife 
 and children, to take his train. Perhaps he was 
 returning to the army from a furlough or a sick 
 leave, and to miss this train would bring him to his 
 regiment after his leave had expired, and thus 
 subject him to punishment under the severe but 
 necessary regulations of the army. Taking all 
 this in at a glance, he preferred even the censure 
 of the officers of the railroad company rather than 
 have the returning soMier suffer inconvenience. 
 
20 ISAAC MUORHEAD. 
 
 "Such things in themselves may not seem to be of 
 much importance, but to the soldier they meant a 
 great deal. And besides they showed the thought- 
 ful, humane heart of one who, whether in little or 
 in great things, never forgot those who were de- 
 fending their country and his. Some of his friends 
 were kept for long months in Confederate prisons 
 in the South. They seemed to be_ ever upon his 
 mind. How to do something whereby their hard- 
 ships and suflerings might be relieved was to him 
 a matter of constant anxiety and care. In one in- 
 stance he succeeded, by correspondence with Pres- 
 ident Lincoln and Secretary Stanton, in getting 
 certain rules and regulations suspended so that 
 money and clothing were furnished to Col. Snead 
 of Georgia, a Confederate prisoner at Johnson's 
 Island. In return for this Col. Snead's father fur- 
 nished Mr. Moorhead's friend (Col. D. B. Mc 
 Creary), who was a prisoner at Columbia, South 
 Carolina, with money, by means of which he could 
 obtain food and clothing during a hard winter — 
 thus greatly relieving his sufferings. 
 
 " This interesting incident developed into what 
 might be called a romance of the war. Mr. Moor- 
 head and his friend vpho had been thus relieved, 
 began and maintained for many years a delightful 
 correspondence with Colonel Snead and his father, 
 Judge Snead, residing in Augusta, Georgia. When 
 Colonel Snead was married he came north with 
 his bride, and visited Mr. Moorhead and his friend 
 
ISAAO MOORHEAD. 21 
 
 in Erie, and of course talked over the origin of 
 their acquaintance with much pleasure and inter- 
 est. Au urgent invitation by the Colonel (now 
 Judge) Snead to return the visit was accepted and 
 would ere long have been fulfilled had Mr. Moor- 
 head's life been spared. 
 
 "After the battle of Fredericksburgh the wife of 
 one of his friends was very anxious to go to her 
 husband, who lay very sick in camp. But the con- 
 fusion that prevailed after that disastrous battle 
 rendered it next to impossible for any one to get a 
 pass in Washington to go to the army. Mr. Moor- 
 head solved the difficulty by going with the lady to 
 Washington, and by personal appeal at the War 
 Department he procured a pass for both and took 
 her safely to her husband's tent across the river from 
 Fredericksburgh. No visit ever made to a sick 
 bed was more cheering to the invalid than this 
 one. 
 
 " The widow of the lamented Col. Mc Lane had a 
 longing desire to visit the place where her husband 
 fell. Indeed it seemed as if she could not be rec- 
 onciled until she made this sad pilgrimage. Mr. 
 Moorhead, knowing her anxiety, accompanied her 
 to the battlefield of Gaines' Mill, Virginia; and, 
 after many difficulties, found where Col. Mc Lane's 
 regiment was stationed at the time of his death, 
 June 27, 1862. 
 
 "So great was Mr. Moorhead's interest in the war 
 that he carefully preserved the letters received by 
 
22 ISAAC MOOREEAD. 
 
 him from his friends in the array, and filed them 
 away in a book. They were full of information 
 concerning life in camp, on the march, on the pick- 
 et line, and in the field, with the impressions of the 
 writers about the various commanders, the meas- 
 ures of Government, etc., and were an unfailing 
 source of pleasure to Mr. Moorhead for long years 
 after the war had closed. 
 
 "Those who knew Mr. Moorhead knew well, as 
 he did himself, that he was physically unable to en- 
 dure the severe duties of army life. But for this 
 he would cheerfully have engaged in the service of 
 his country ; and often did he express regret at his 
 inability to do so. But, as shown above, he was al- 
 ways ready with hand and purse to do, as a private 
 citizen, whatever he could do to maintain the cause 
 of the government and to aid and cheer his friends 
 in the army and lighten their burdens." 
 
 It must also be said — and in this consisted the 
 great merit of all his eiSbrts — that whatever he con- 
 tributed of his means, and whatever sacrifices he 
 made, it was all given and done freely, and with- 
 out any thought or hope of future benefit to him- 
 self. Both his patriotism and his friendship were 
 of the most unselfish and disinterested kind. 
 
 In the' early period of the war Mr. Moorhead 
 began to keep a book of personal records. It was 
 not really a diary, for the occurences of every day 
 were not noted; but whenever anything notewor- 
 thy did occur in the experience of himself, or his 
 
ISAAC MOORHEAB. 23 
 
 family and intimate friends, it was carefully but 
 briefly written down. It is most valuable as a fam- 
 ily history, but, as he remarks on the introductory 
 page, was "not meant nor intended in any part of 
 it for publication." But for this implied prohibi- 
 tion the writer of the present sketch would be able 
 to enliven it with many a pleasant paragraph — re- 
 marks on persons and things, and records of cur- 
 rent events which would serve to illustrate the 
 course of thought and life, as well as the graphic 
 power as a writer of him whose pen is now laid 
 aside forever. The record was continued with pains- 
 taking fidelity down till within a few weeks of his 
 death, and is a magazine of important facts and 
 dates both of a public and private character. 
 
 About the same time that he began to keep the 
 personal journal just mentioned, he became deeply 
 interested in the annals and history of his ancestors. 
 He was naturally of an antiquarian disposition, 
 and had in him all the qualities of the faithful and 
 accurate historian. He took a deep interest in the 
 settlement in this country of the Scoth-Irish, from 
 whom on both sides he derived his descent ; and, 
 had his life been spared to the period of old age, 
 with the quiet leisure that there was a fair promise 
 he might have enjoyed in his later years, a*history of 
 this strong-hearted and strong-brained people, whose 
 influence on this nation has been so great, might 
 have come forth from his full stocked memory and 
 vigorous pen. But as it was, he spent a great deal 
 
2Jt ISAAC MOOREEAD. 
 
 of time and labor and no small amount of money 
 in gathering the materials for the history of his im- 
 mediate ancestors, tracing out their various lines 
 of relationship, and, in the case of the Barnett fam- 
 ily, to which he belonged on his mother's side, com- 
 piling a connected narrative of their immigration, 
 settlement, and early experiences in this country. 
 Some portions of this narrative are exceedingly in- 
 teresting as general history, and perhaps appropri- 
 ate extracts from it m.a.j be given in another part of 
 this volume. The history occupies ninety closely 
 written manuscript pages. To this is added an ac- 
 count of Old Hanover Church, situated a few miles 
 east of Harrisburg, Penn. This was the church of 
 the Barnett family before their removal to Erie 
 county, and is one of the famous old churches of 
 that region of Pennsylvania. The first building 
 was erected about 1735, and the second, the one 
 now standing, in 1788. ^Mr. Moorhead's account 
 of his visit to the old church of his ancestors in 
 1866, is one of the most interesting of his letters, 
 and will be found in this volume. 
 
 The "History of the Moorhead Family" was 
 never written. A volume was procured, and a large 
 number of statistics of different families compiled, 
 interspersed with photographs of persons and places; 
 but the narrative of their emigration from Scotland, 
 their sojourn in the north of Ireland, their coming 
 to this country and settlement first in Lancaster 
 County, Penn., and then in Erie County, was uev- 
 
ISAAC MOOREEAB. 25 
 
 er fully prepared. He had gathered and digested 
 a considerable amount of materials, however, and a 
 few years more of health and life would no doubt 
 have seen this work also, which Mr. Mooorhead 
 had fully set before himself to do, accomplished. 
 As it is, the pages of the book lie sadly vacant, 
 waiting for the hand of son, or daughter, or grand- 
 son, to complete what the father had so well begun 
 and lovingly planned. 
 
 In October, 1864, while the country was throb- 
 bing with the intense excitement both of the war 
 and ofv a presidential election canvass, Mr. Moor- 
 head with his wife and daughter Ruth, then a child 
 of but five or six summers, paid a visit to the fa- 
 mous battlefield of Gettysburg. The memory of all 
 the terrible scenes through which they had passed 
 was still vividly fresh in the minds of the people 
 there, and the camp debris and battle-wreck of two 
 mighty armies still lay thickly scattered over all 
 the hills and valleys round about. Even the low, 
 distant thunder of hostile cannon could be occasion- 
 ally heard, reminding citizen and visitor alike that 
 war was a terrible fact in the laud yet. 
 
 It was.just the time for a man possesing the ac- 
 tive imagination of Mr. Moorhead, and who took so 
 deep an interest as he did in the cause of the coun- 
 try and in studying accurately the facts of the great 
 conflict, to visit this most famous battlefield of the 
 war. ^His observations were careful and minute, 
 and written out with more than ordinary clearness. 
 
26 TSAAC MOORHEAD. 
 
 His views especially of that part of the hotly con- 
 tested field where Gen. Strong Vincent held com- 
 mand and where he bravely fell, and his discrimi- 
 nating estimate of that officer's ability as a comman- 
 der, and of his conduct in the very crisis of the 
 great battle, may fairly be reckoned one of the 
 best pieces of criticism to be found in the literature 
 of the war. This monogram, under the title of "A 
 visit to Gettysburg", will be found given at length 
 in another part of this volume. 
 
 Sometime during the year 1868 Mr. Moorhead, 
 accompanied by his friend Gen. Mc Creary, visited 
 the battlefields of Virginia. His observations 
 were communicated at the time, in a series of let- 
 ters, to the Erie Dispatch. They are of much local 
 as well as general interest, and are reprinted in 
 this volume. 
 
 In the summer of 1865, with his family and a 
 small party of friends, he took the delightful trip 
 down the river St. Lawrence, stopping at Montreal 
 and quaint old Quebec, and passing on from the 
 latter city, by the Grand Trunk Railroad, to Port- 
 land and Scarborough Beach, Maine. Although it 
 was the second time he had made this trip (his wed- 
 ding journey, twelve years before, had been down 
 the same grand water-course) he was full of enthu- 
 siasm for all the beauty and grandeur of this mag- 
 nificent northern stream, with its lakes and multi- 
 tudinous islands and roaring rapids, and the unique 
 cities and old-time villages that stud its banks. 
 
I8AAC MOORHEAD. 27 
 
 Of the stately city of Montreal he says : "It is cer- 
 "tainly nearer my heart than any other city I have 
 "yet seen, and I ask no better trip than that down 
 "the St. Lawrence once in two years." Arriving ab 
 Quebec^which seems like a town of medieval 
 Europe with large accretions of more modern times 
 crystalized about it — "We landed," he says, "amid 
 "a crowd of drivers of wagons, caleches, etc. ; and* 
 "assailed by a jargon of French, we took seats in 
 "the omnibus of the St. Louis Hotel (Russell's). 
 "Up, up, up the steep street through Prescott Grate 
 "and within the walls. Soon we are roomed at the 
 "Hotel. Out we go, and climb the fortifications as 
 "far as the ditch. What a grand view ! the St. 
 "Lawrence, Point Levi, the village of French 
 "houses all along the way to Montraorenci, and 
 "the quaint old city of Quebec at your feet." 
 
 The party remained but two or three days at 
 Quebec, and then struck out by rail through the 
 country of the "Habitans" and central Maine for 
 the Atlantic coast. His short vacation drawing to 
 a close, Mr. Moorhead could remain but a short 
 time at Scarborough Beach. But the beautiful and 
 attractive things he found there— the long stretch 
 of smooth shingle, the marsh-meadows, the rocks, 
 the grand sea itself — made so deep an impresion 
 upon him that he was drawn back on three or four 
 subsequent occasions to the same spot for much 
 longer visits. It had a great fascination for him ; 
 and he had also formed greatly valued friendships 
 
S8 ISAAC MOORBEAD. 
 
 there, which were quite as attractive to him as the 
 beauty and grandeur of the sea itself. 
 
 One of tliese subsequent visits was in the sum- 
 mer of 1870, and was thoroughly enjoyed. He 
 speaks of the sensation of his first "dash in the 
 waves" as "freezingly cold at first", but from the 
 reaction greatly "invigorative and refreshing," and 
 he represents himself as being as "happy as a boy 
 in school vacation, with the week all before him." 
 
 His next visit to this charming "summer home 
 by the sea", as he came to regard it, was made 
 with his family and some intimate friends in 1872. 
 His journal on this occasion fairly bubbles over 
 with expressions of his admiration and delight. 
 For example : "I took the children and went with 
 "C. to the 'Upper Rocks' to see the dashing of the 
 "surf upon them. We sat a long time enjoying 
 "the fine view; then went down to the shore and 
 "bathed our hands and heads in abasiniu the rocks. 
 "Thence we walked to 'Rocky Hill' and looked over 
 "the marsh, and traced the winding 'None-Such' 
 "by the very full tide." Each day has its record of 
 something "glorious" or "grand" or "unsurpassed" 
 that was seen or experienced. In one place Le 
 says: "We enjoyed one of the finest sunsets I ever 
 " saw — such an one as Kreigofi" delights to paint in 
 "his Canada Views." Of a certain day in July, he 
 makes this record : "It was conceded by all of our 
 "party that this was the most perfect day of our 
 " many at the sea-side this year. There was notb- 
 
ISAAC MOOBEEAD. ^g 
 
 "ing to wish for in air, sky, sea, or sun. It was a 
 "perfect and complete day, bright and clear and 
 "warm, and it will be as such in memory 'the per- 
 "fect Thursday.' " 
 
 In 1873 he again took his vacation at the sea- 
 shore, leaving 'home on the 24th of July, and 
 going through by rail to the same quiet and de- 
 hghtful place. Two fine hotels stand near the 
 beach, the resort every season of a throng of health 
 or pleasure seekers. But he chose to go again to 
 the pleasant farm-house a little further back from 
 the shore, and affording a fine out-look towards 
 the marsh-meadows and the pine woods, as well as 
 over the sea, the beach and the rocky head-lands. 
 Here, with his little family and a few friends who, 
 like himself, were fond lovers of the same pleas- 
 ant spot, he setteld down, in perfect content, for a 
 few weeks of pure enjoyment and relaxation. His 
 account of the pleasures of this visit is pitched on 
 a high key throughout. Almost every page of his 
 journal is adorned with a photograph of one of the 
 beautiful and familiar scenes of the region, and in 
 several of these the group of friends appear who 
 make up this pleasant seaside party; and his pen- 
 pictures are made scarcely less vivid to the imagi- 
 nation of the reader than the sun-pictures to the 
 eye. Each day seemed to be full to the brim with 
 enjoyment. Now there was an exhilirating bath 
 in the cool waves; now a long walk along the 
 beach and over the rocks or through the fragrant 
 
so ISAAC MOOEHEAD. 
 
 pine groves ; now a visit to "Gunnison's field" or 
 "Rocky Hill" to view a glorious sunset on the 
 White Mountains, Mount Washington lifting its 
 great rounded summit up into the crimson sky 
 ninety miles away. At another time there was a 
 fishing excursion to "Kettle Cove,',' and great suc- 
 cess was achieved in entrapping the finny denizens 
 of the cold rolling waves. For it is no quiet pool 
 that one chooses to throw his line in when fishing 
 at the sea-shore, if he expects or desires to fill his 
 basket with "cunners," but right out from the 
 half submerged rocks into the swashing waves. 
 And this was a sport which Mr. Moorhead — always 
 a fond lover of old Izaak Walton's pastime — took 
 great delight in. "When the tide went out," he 
 notes of one fishing excursion, " my friend and 
 "I went with Ooolbroth to the outer rocks for an 
 "hour for 'cunners', and as fast as Ooolbroth could 
 "take them from^-the hooks and put on bait (clams) 
 "we caught them. Three several times did I 
 "catch two at one draw. Filling our baskets, we 
 "returned and found the girls picking star-fish 
 "from the rocks, and the boys catching crabs in a 
 "quiet pool, with pants rolled to hips and enjoying 
 "themselves hugely." 
 
 But this sea-side visit, so health-giving and so 
 full of satisfying out-door pleasures, came to an 
 end all too soon, and it was his last. Almost ev- 
 ery season afterwards he was planning that by the 
 next summer or the next he would again return to 
 
ISAAC MOORHEAD. si 
 
 dear old Scarboro' Beach. But an increase in fam- 
 ily expenses, and a partial failure in a business in- 
 vestment, prevented him from fulfilling his pur- 
 pose. More such visits and longer periods of re- 
 laxation might have added many years to his life. 
 But he had not yet discovered the stealthy ap- 
 proach of disease. 
 
 There was another region besides the coast of 
 Maine which Mr. Moorhead took much interest 
 in visiting, that of Lake Champlain and Lake 
 George. Not only the beautiful and picturesque 
 character of the country itself, but the historical 
 associations connected with it and the romantic 
 interest with which Cooper's Leather-Stocking 
 tales had invested it, made the shores of Lake 
 George very attractive to him. Cooper's Novels 
 constituted some of his earliest reading as a boy, 
 and he always continued to read them. They 
 seemed to have the freshness of youth to him, so 
 full were they of the free life of the mountain and 
 forest and prairie, and so much of our wild early 
 history was woven into them. With the battles 
 and warlike movements that took place in the re- 
 gion lying between the Mohawk and the St. Law- 
 rence, both during the revolutionary war and the 
 later British war, he was perfectly familiar. A visit 
 to Lake George, therefore, gratified three strong 
 sentiments, his admiration for fine natural scenery, 
 his deep interest in primitive history, and his love 
 of the romantic and legendary. 
 
32 ISAAC MOORBEAD. 
 
 But our following Mr. Moorhead in Ms later 
 visits to Scarboro' Beach has carried us forward 
 too rapidly in his history. Let us go back to an 
 earlier period. After nearly twenty years of contin- 
 uous and faithful service as a conductor, first on 
 the Erie and North East and afterwards on the Buf- 
 falo and Erie Railroad, he felt the need of a period 
 of rest ; and his friend Gen. Mc Creary having been 
 appointed Adjutant General of the State under 
 Gov. Geary, he gladly accepted the offer of a clerk- 
 ship in the office of the former — the railroad au- 
 thorities willingly granting him a leave of absence 
 for this purpose. This was in the beginning of the 
 winter of 1867-8, and he remained at Harrisburg 
 till April following. He spent a period of about 
 equal length in the same office the next winter. 
 At the beginning of the Legislative session of 1870 
 he was elected Chief Clerk in the Transcribing 
 Room of the House of Representatives, and twice 
 reelected to the same position in the following ses- 
 sions. He proved a dilligent and faithful and in 
 every way competent and acceptable officer. And 
 while he served the State faithfully, he found abun- 
 dance of time and large opportunity, during these 
 four or five winters at the State Capitol, to pursue 
 his favorite historical studies and researches. The 
 State Library was free to his use ; and he also made 
 the valuable acquaintance of Dr. "W". H. Egle, au- 
 thor of the History of Pennslyvania, who became 
 greatly attached to him. Afterwards Dr. E. se- 
 
ISAAC MOORHEAD, SS 
 
 cured his services in the preparation of the History 
 of Erie County which is incorporated in his great 
 work. Some of Mr. Moorhead's friends greatly 
 regretted that the article on Erie county could not 
 have been published entire just as it came 
 from his pen; but the compiler and editor felt 
 that the limits of his work required it to be curtail- 
 ed ; and so a considerable portion of what was 
 most interesting from a local point of view was 
 omitted in order that that which was of larger gen- 
 eral interest might be given. The account of the 
 battle of Lake Erie as related in Mr. Moorhead's 
 article is pronounced by Dr. Egle "the best and 
 most lucid extant." 
 
 The time spent by Mr. Moorhead in Ilarrisburg 
 during the successive winters from 1868 to 1872 
 was, in many respects, the most pleasant and fruit- 
 ful portion of his life. It seemed to him like get- 
 ting back to an old home, for it was the seat and re- 
 gion of his ancestors of two or three generations be- 
 fore. " Somehow I seem," he says, "to have sprung 
 "from this region of country, and to have just nat- 
 " urally gravitated back." He went strolling and 
 driving about the country, visiting the old churches 
 and church-yards, and the homesteads of his fam- 
 ily of a former generation, looking on everything 
 he saw, wood or stream or old stone house, 
 as having in some way a mystic connection 
 with himself. The mountains round about Har- 
 risburg were a great delight to him, and he never 
 
34 ISAAC MOOREMAD. 
 
 was satisfied with gazing at and admiring them. 
 "How grand from the Capitol dome" — he breaks 
 out in one place in his journal — " was the blue 
 " tint of the long line of mountains stretching out 
 " to old Hanover ! Life in this valley is pleasant." 
 At another time he makes this record — a descrip- 
 tion exhibiting the sense and touch of the true poet : 
 " Seated this evening on a rock at the foot of Wal- 
 " nut Street, I saw the sun sink behind the moun- 
 " tains. The summer-looking clouds had the full 
 " blush of the rose. The mountains were clear-cut 
 " in their outline. Swallows twittered in the air. 
 " The river was like molten gold. Two rafts 
 " were floating down the stream. Dogs plunged 
 " into the water to retrieve the sticks thrown in 
 " by gleesome, happy boys. The young, the mid- 
 " die-aged and the old were out, and all was joy- 
 " ous and pleasant. I wished so much for my little 
 " family to see the beauty of the evening." 
 
 One day in January, 1868, he made a pilgrimage 
 to old Donegal Church, near Mount Joy, Lancaster 
 county. His record of this visit is brief, and is 
 well worth reproducing here both for its intrinsic 
 interest and its merit as a piece of fine description. 
 " To-daj' as we started for old Donegal church " — 
 he had stayed over night at the house of a friend 
 near by — " snow commenced to fall. But the 
 " three miles were sdon passed, and we were upon 
 " one of the old Moorhead farms, which embraced 
 " a portion of the glebe farm and one hundred 
 
ISAAC MOOBHEAD. S5 
 
 " acres adjoining. Driving into a beautiful grove 
 " of magnificent oaks, we alighted and stood in 
 " front of old Donegal Church — the mother of all 
 " the Presbyterian churches west of the Delaware 
 " — dear to me as the spot where four generations 
 " of my ancestors had worshiped the God of their 
 "fathers. At the foot of the hill on which the 
 " church stood the famous Donegal spring gushed 
 " out from among the rocks, covering in a pool 
 " about an acre of ground, and then running off in 
 " a broad stream toward the north. A wild rabbit 
 "jumped among the rocks as I descended the hill, 
 " and a trout darted out from under the gray gran- 
 " ite as I scooped up some water in my hand to car- 
 " ry to my lips. Procuring the keys to the church 
 "and of the church-yard gates at the sexton's 
 " house, we entered first the church. The building 
 "is of stone, and was originally like Hanover 
 " Church, but larger. But the accursed hand of 
 " improvement (?) had been laid upon it, and its 
 "interior and exterior had been modernized. The 
 " time-worn stone of the exterior had been cov- 
 " ered with a coat of plaster or mastic, the fine 
 " gothic windows and doors had been changed for 
 " square tops, and new doors and pews had been 
 " added. In the pulpit, on the floor, was a Bible, 
 "printed in Edinburgh in 1785. Mr. L. says the 
 " old pulpit was very high, and the preacher could 
 " scarcely be Seen when standing up in it ; the pews 
 " were alsp high, reaching above the heads of the 
 
S6 ISAAC MOORHEAD. 
 
 " people when seated. I went into the garret of 
 " the church and looked over a box of old hymn 
 " books and Testaments, Avith names written iij 
 " them by hands long since crumbled to dust. I 
 " procured that which was more precious to me 
 " than the key of the Bastile at Mount Vernon — 
 " the old key of the church (size marked out on 
 "the page, about seven inches long). * * * (Jn- 
 " locking the iron gate we passed into the grave- 
 " yard. But the tombs, many of them, being cover- 
 " ed with flat stones and thickly bedded with snow 
 " and ice, I discovered that no satisfaction would 
 " ensue to me this day in this ground." 
 
 After one of the winters he spent at Harrisburg, 
 Mr. Moorhead was induced, the following summer, 
 to become a candidate for the Republican nomina- 
 tion as member of the state House of Representa- 
 tives. He was willing enough to have the possi- 
 tion, an honorable and useful one, but he hated the 
 ordeal through which he must pass in order to 
 gain it. Office-seeking was utterly distasteful to 
 him. With a good deal of reluctance, however, and 
 a sense of lowering himself from a higher plane of 
 Itfe, he finaly allowed his name to be brought for- 
 ward. But "wire-pulling" he did not understand; 
 making promises to supporters was not in his line 
 of things ; buying votes in any form he would have 
 nothing to do with. Such a politician was easily 
 defeated by men who pursued unscrupulous me- 
 thods and he was defeated accordingly. The next 
 
J8AAG MOORHEAI). S7 
 
 day he took his train to Buflalo, no doubt, a happier 
 man than he would have been had he gained what 
 he seemed to seek. The hundreds who knew his 
 worth and abilitj' deeply regreted that a man of 
 such fine qualifications for the post of representa- 
 tive could not have been nominated and elected. 
 But such is too often the case when men of his stamp 
 leave their quiet pursuits to seek ofiice at the hands 
 of the people. 
 
 In the year 1867, just before going to Harris- 
 burg for the first time, Mr. Moorhead being in- 
 clined to invest some of his surplus means in trade, 
 purchased an interest in the bookstore of Caughey, 
 McCreary & Co., the new partnership taking the 
 firm name of Caughey, Mc Creary & Moorhead. 
 For several years the business was quite pros- 
 perous; though Mr. Moorhead was not able to 
 give at any time much personal attention to its 
 management. It sufl["ered considerably from the 
 pressure of the hard times that followed the mon- 
 ey panic of 1873, and was finally wound up honor- 
 ably in 1877 — the remainder of the stock being 
 purchased by Messrs. Allen & Brewer. 
 
 In 1876, the famous " Centennial Year " of the 
 country, a movement was set on foot for securing 
 in the various counties of the State histories from 
 the earliest period down to the current year. The 
 Historical Society of Erie county selected three 
 persons to prepare such a history for the county, 
 assigning a certain division of the work to each. 
 
ISAAG MOOBEEAD. 
 
 To Capt. ]Sr. W. Russell was assigned the prepara- 
 tion of that part of the history beginning with the 
 year 1820; to Capt. Wm. Dobbins that part per- 
 taining to the first twenty years of the century, thus 
 including the important period of the war of 1812. 
 To Mr. Moorhead fell the task of preparing a his- 
 tory of the region of country, lying along the 
 south shore of Lake Erie, including the county 
 of Erie, during the period preceding the opening 
 of the present century. This service falling di- 
 rectly in the line of his tastes, and of his studies 
 for many years, he willingly undertook it. With 
 his usual care and thoroughness he produced a 
 historical essay of great merit, setting forth clearly 
 and comprehensively all the facts that could be 
 gathered of the times of the Indian, French and 
 English occupation of the region bordering the 
 lake, and of the establishment here of the first act- 
 ual settlers. The article, which was never publish- 
 ed by the society, will be found in its^ proper place 
 in this volume. 
 
 A sketch of Mr. Moorhead's life and character 
 would not be complete without some reference to 
 the humorous side of him. His sense of the ludi- 
 crous, and his love of what was witty and droll, 
 were strongly developed. A peculiar phase of this 
 was his power of mimicry and representation in 
 character. He could imitate the Negro lingo and 
 the Irish brogue and manner to perfection, and go 
 through with the lisping and stammering absurdi- 
 
ISAAC MOORHEAD. 39 
 
 ties of "Lord Dundreary" in a style quite equal to 
 the original of that famous character. Modest to 
 a degree, and often reserved and reticent in gener- 
 al company, he was yet the very soul of the so- 
 cial circle to which he belonged. 
 
 This circle, or coterie, was so much a part of him 
 and he of it, that it deserves some special mention. 
 It was not a mere loose section of general society, 
 indefinite in numbers ; nor was it one of those asso- 
 ciations that are held together by the ligatures of 
 constitution and by-laws — meeting periodically and 
 going through a certain program of exercises pre- 
 scribed beforehand. The members of the circle 
 simply gravitated together by some law, as it were, 
 of affinity or attraction. They did not meet week- 
 ly, nor monthly, but whenever it pleased one of their 
 number, or a pair of them — for they were mostly 
 married people with homes of their own — to call 
 them together. A supper was always a part of the 
 entertainment; though the "Aneke Jans" (for so 
 they called themselves, oddly enough,) depended 
 more on the "feast of reason and the flow of soul" 
 for their entertainment than on the luxuries of 
 the table. General talk, raillery, telling of stories, 
 readings, recitations, certain games or humorous 
 exercises of speech rather than of action, con- 
 stituted the performances or pastimes on these oc- 
 casions. The company never exceeded twenty five 
 in number; while the original members, who held 
 
J^O ISAAC MOORHEAD. 
 
 to the organization through all the period of its ex- 
 istence, were bat fourteen. 
 
 None of the coterie ever enjoyed the meetings 
 more, or contributed more to the pleasure of the 
 rest, than Mr. Moorhead. He thus gratified a crav- 
 ing of his nature as much as he gratified his appe- 
 tite when he partook of necessary food. His fine 
 powers of imitation; the ease and naturalness with 
 which he could read in character ; the unsurpassed 
 talent he had for story-telling; his fine appreciation 
 of the performances of others and his whole-hearted 
 and joyous laugh when the "nub" of the story or 
 the point of the joke was brought out — all served 
 to render him the one member of the party whose 
 presence seemed a necessity, and his apprehended 
 absence a sufficient reason for postponing a gather- 
 ing of the clan. Yet he never assumed any super- 
 ior ability nor importance. Modest almost to a 
 fault, he never would submit to anything that seem- 
 ed like being "shown off'". Unlike many great 
 story-tellers and fiuent talkers, he did not monop- 
 olize attention, but was equally as ready to listen 
 as to speak; and, witty as he was, and quick at re- 
 partee, he would rather sacrifice his jest than hurt 
 the feelings of a friend. 
 
 Mr. Moorhead's literary taste was of the high- 
 est order. As one of his early and near friends, 
 a clergyman of such ability and culture as to give 
 weight to his judgment, once said of him; "His 
 was one of the most refined natures I ever knew. 
 
ISAAC MOOREEAD. ^1 
 
 Very rare indeed is it to find a man whose taste in 
 literature and in all other matters of an aesthetic 
 character is so pure and faultless." This refined 
 literary taste was shown in the books he most de- 
 lighted in. Cooper, Irving, Hawthorne, Thoreau, 
 Charlotte Bronte, Sir Walter Scott, were among 
 his favorite authors, and some of their works he 
 read over and over again. Some choice books, in- 
 deed, he made it a point to read every year. One 
 of these was Alexander Smith's "A Summer in 
 Skye"; another, Thoreau's "Cape Cod" (his copy of 
 this is marked and scored in hundreds of places); 
 still another was Charlotte Bronte's 'Jane Eyre." 
 Later in life, as already remarked, his tastes took 
 an antiquarian turn and he found great interest in 
 tracing the history of his ancestors. He had also 
 made a considerable collection of rare and early 
 histories of certain communities and settlements. 
 
 For one who had n.ot devoted himself specially to 
 literature, he was a very clear and effective writer. 
 There was no aft'ectation in his style, and none of 
 the stiffness of many practical and learned writers. 
 He seemed to have imbibed the spirit of some 
 of the authors he read in early life, as Irving 
 and Cooper, and without intending it fell into their 
 lucid and pleasant style. But perhaps it is better 
 to say that he wrote clearly and w^ell, because he 
 thought clearly, and followed the bent of his own 
 well balanced mind. 
 
 What Mr. Moorhead did in a literary way for 
 
J^ I8AAG MOORHEAD. 
 
 the public, was fully equalled by his private corres- 
 pondence. Here he was perfectly at home — his 
 thoughts flowing freely and naturally, and in lan- 
 guage and style the most graceful and charming. 
 Words from the alembic of his brain were like 
 colors to the eye ; they made a picture clear, sym- 
 metrical and natural — nothing about it monstrous 
 or misshapen. It would be pleasant to give ex- 
 tracts from some of his many letters; but his gen- 
 eral observations are so interwoven with things of 
 a personal and private character, that propriety 
 forbids their insertion here. 
 
 He never attempted to write poetry, nor affected 
 anything ambitious, sentimental nor grand, — was 
 quite too genuine and sincere for anything of that 
 kind. In his reading he was not so fond of poetry, 
 even of the highest order, as of fine prose; though 
 the best descriptive poetry — some of Bryant's, for 
 example, some of Whittier's, and portions of Cow- 
 per's "Task", he read and re-read. For a number 
 of years in the latter part of his life he was accus- 
 tomed , every New Year's day, to meet with an in- 
 timate friend at the house of one of them, when 
 they would read together the introductory part of 
 the " Winter Morning Walk." His keen apprecia- 
 tion of fine natural scener}-, and his love of country 
 life, made this fine descriptive piece of Cowper's 
 particularly pleasing to him. 
 
 Mr. Moorhead never felt inclined to withdraw 
 permanently from his business on the railroad, 
 
ISAAO MO OSES AD. ^S 
 
 though in the later years he must have perceived 
 in himself evidences of impaired health. Tlie life 
 on the train had a charm for him that his friends 
 never could quite account for. More than once, 
 easier and more lucrative positions were offered 
 him by the railroad authorities; but these involved 
 office work and greater responsibility, and he de- 
 clined them. Perhaps the principal reason he had 
 for clinging to his old place was that his responsi- 
 bility and care were limited simply to the twelve 
 or fourteen hours a day that he was on the road or 
 in Buffiilo. From the minute he stepped off the 
 platform of his train in the evening till he stepped 
 on it again in the morning he was his own master; 
 and few as the intervening waking hours were, 
 they were sacred to his home, his family and his 
 friends, his precious books and his literary work. 
 And when a m-an has devoted nearly all the years 
 of his manhood to one pursuit with success, and 
 to the satisfaction of himself and all others inter- 
 ested, he is not generally disposed to enter upon a 
 new course of business or try a new mode of life. 
 It was a surprise therefore to Mr. Moorhead, and 
 not a matter of his own seeking, when he was ten- 
 dered the position of Post Master at Erie in the 
 Autumn of 1879. Doubtless he had felt that his 
 health was giving way, and that he needed a long 
 period of rest and recuperation. Whether rest 
 was likely to come to him in the new office might 
 well have have been a question. 
 
^4 ISAAC MOOREEAD. 
 
 After the appointment was made he gave him- 
 self at once and with all earnestness and fidelity to 
 making himself thoroughly acquainted with its 
 duties. The effort made to defeat his confirmation 
 in the Senate was a source of great annoyance to 
 him. The falsehoods and misrepresentations with 
 which he was assailed and pursued wore on him 
 greatly. He nevertheless kept on in the quiet and 
 faithful discharge of his official duties ; and event- 
 ually not only the Senate, but the whole com- 
 munity concerned, with great unanimity, con- 
 firmed the choice made by the President. 
 
 Accustomed to rise early from necessity for 
 many years, he could not, had he so wished, have 
 shaken off the habit. He made a practice there- 
 fore for a considerable period after he became 
 Postmaster of going to the office before breakfast 
 and looking into all the details of the work — the 
 making up of the early mails, the assorting of the 
 letters for the carriers, &c. This perhaps was quite 
 unnecessary, but he did not feel satisfied without 
 becoming personally acquainted with whatever was 
 done in the office and the manner of doing it. 
 All this worry and work and constant confinement, 
 from the very day he received his commission, 
 soon affected his health. 
 
 As early as October or November 1879 he suf- 
 fered a slight paralysis of his right arm and side, 
 disabling him from writing and the free use of his 
 arm for several weeks. Eecovering to all appear- 
 
ISAAC MOOEHEAD. 
 
 4S 
 
 anee from this attack during; tbe followino- winter 
 there was still to the eyes of his nearest friends a 
 want at times of the old-time vivacity and hearti- 
 ness. A shadow seemed to be upon him, and 
 what, in a man ten or fifteen years older, would 
 have seemed tokens of approaching age. But du- 
 ring nearly the whole of the year 1880, he was 
 quite his natural self, — giving himself, however, 
 far too little relaxation, and attending closely to 
 the duties of his office. In many respects it 
 seemed to be a quiet and restful year to him. He 
 had made but few changes in the working force of 
 the office; he had fallen quickly and easily into 
 the routine circle of duties that belonged to him ; 
 he attended promptly to all letters of inquiry or 
 complaint. ITothing was neglected; and he soon 
 gained the reputation of being an attentive, capable 
 and accommodating officer. Yet with it all he was 
 able to spend many a pleasant hour in his much 
 loved home ; and there seemed to be a fair prom- 
 ise of many years of peaceful j'et active and useful 
 life before him. But the unwonted confinement, 
 perhaps, or the bad air of the Post Office, or the 
 gradual progress of a disease of the spinal chord 
 induced by the jar, jar, jar, of almost thirty years 
 upon a I'ailroad train, — one of these causes or all 
 of them combined, began, in the latter part of the 
 year 1880, to show in a marked degree their bale- 
 ful eft'ect upon his health. 
 
 Those of his friends who met him daily saw but 
 
J^Q 
 
 ISAAC MOOREEAD. 
 
 little change in him, only noting that he was more 
 qniet and reticent than was his wont, that there 
 was less elasticity in his step and that he had 
 less liveliness of manner and thought. His strength 
 failed very slowly but steadily. People who saw 
 him at the Christmas time — a season that was al- 
 ways a happy one with him, and which he never 
 allowed to pass in his home without being duly 
 and cheerily observed — and not again till April, 
 were greatly struck with the change that had come 
 upon him. The medical treatment he received du- 
 ring the winter seemed to give bat little relief. 
 The long-continued cold weather tried him greatly, 
 and he had lost much of his strength ; but he still 
 attended to the duties of his office, generally re- 
 maining at home, however, during the afternoons. 
 He longed for the return of the warmth and fresh- 
 ness of spring, and the rising again of nature from 
 its long, dead sleep, and spoke of the bright June 
 weather as something that would certainly bring 
 new life to him. 
 
 Having been advised by his physician to try the 
 virtues of the "magnetic waters" so called at Eaton 
 Rapids, l^ich., and the treatment there given to 
 invalids, he went to Dr, Hale's "Medical Sanitari- 
 um" at that place, accompanied by his wife, early 
 in May. The promise of improvement was very 
 flattering at first, but it was delusive. Vital or- 
 gans, the heart and brain, were deeply aiSected, and 
 he gradually wasted away. Death came peacefully 
 
ISAAC MOORHEAD. 
 
 4-7 
 
 at eleven o'clock on Saturday the 4th of June, and 
 one of the noblest and bravest of spirits passed 
 from the earth, rising to the immortality that God 
 has made sure to all his trusting children. 
 
 At such a time, argument for the immortal life 
 seems almost an impertinence. The fact simply 
 asserts itself — dead matter, immortal spirit; one 
 stage of being closed, another and higher one be- 
 gun. To this our intuitions and aspirations, rein- 
 forced by divine revelation, point us irrisistibly. 
 How very fitting to quote here on this subject the 
 language of him whose death has just been recorded, 
 taken from a letter of his that will appear in anoth- 
 er place: "Again and again since we met you last", 
 he writes, "we. have passed 'black milestones' 
 "in our journey of life. Death has called us away 
 "from the train and we have accompanied one and 
 "another dear friend to the water's edge. We 
 "have asked those shining ones that stood upon 
 "the other side of the river, 'If a man die shall he 
 "live again ? ' and they have answered us : 'I am 
 "the resurrection and the life,' saith the Lord : 
 '"He that believeth in me, though he were dead, 
 "yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth and be- 
 "lieveth in me shall never die.' We have turned 
 "back to the busy scenes of life, purified some- 
 "what, we trust, by the fires of affliction ; and in 
 "the long night hours on the train we think of the 
 "pure and upright example left us as a rich legacy 
 "by him who has passed away forever; and we 
 
j^ ISAAC MUORHEAD. 
 
 "think of her whose sun went down in the morn- 
 "ing of her days. * * * y^Q have not felt like 
 "writing of late, but rather like passing on quietly 
 "with the throng until beckoned by the silent 
 "messenger to the shores of the great river." 
 Sustained by a faith thus strongly affirmed did 
 ■Isaac Moorhead pass through the shadows of the 
 dark valley and across the river to the immortal 
 fields beyond. 
 
 Although the worst was apprehended by many 
 of his friends when he left home, yet it was with 
 a shock of surprise and grief that they received 
 the intelligence of his death. Had the wasting, 
 flickering and final going out of the lamp of life 
 taken place in their presence, they could have re- 
 alized more fully the approach of the sad event, 
 and when it came it would have seemed less sud- 
 den and distressing. As it was, they were im- 
 pressed as with a hopeless personal bereavement. 
 A part of their life seemed to be snatched away 
 from them, and they were left wildly groping in 
 the dark to find it again. 
 
 The immediate family of Mr. Moorhead, con- 
 sisting of his wife, daughter and son, were with 
 him in his last hours, and returned directly to 
 their desolate home, arriving on Sunday evening. 
 The funeral took place on the following Monday 
 afternoon, June 6th, at 4 o'clock. The attendance 
 of relatives and friends was very large. All the 
 lower rooms of the house and the hall-way were 
 
ISAAC MOORHEAD. ^g 
 
 filled, while hundreds stood without, unable to 
 gain admittance. And looking over this company, 
 one could not but be struck with the fact that the 
 large proportion of those who stood around were 
 not of the people who attend funerals from mere 
 curiosity, or from a morbid desire to gaze on the 
 sad procession of mourning relatives; but substan- 
 tial and thoughtful men, who had turned aside 
 from their business for an hour, that they might 
 thus testify their respect for the deceased and their 
 sense of loss, and show their sympathy with his 
 bereaved family. There was an entire absence of 
 any attempt at show or parade. The coffin was a 
 plain one, covered with black cloth, with silver 
 mountings, and bearing on a silver plate the sim- 
 ple inscription : 
 
 ISAAC MOORHEAD, 
 
 Age 53. 
 
 On the foot of the casket lay a beautiful floral 
 cross, the gift of a friend. Resting near the center 
 was a wreath or circle of white flowers and green 
 leaves, broken in one point, and bearing the letters 
 " A. J." This was a testimonial from a few of the 
 former intimate friends of Mr. Moorhead, and the 
 device was intended to represent that the circle 
 was at last broken. Still another impressive floral 
 representation was a broken column standing at 
 the head of the coffiji, and bearing the words, 
 "Our Chief" — the appropriate gift of the gentle- 
 
so ISAAC MOORHEAD. 
 
 men composing the post office force. These, 
 headed by Deputy Postmaster Kellogg, just before 
 the opening of the services, marched from the post 
 office in a body, and, filing through the room in 
 which their dead chief lay, took a last look at the 
 face of him whom they had learned to love so well. 
 
 The funeral services were conducted by Eev. J. T. 
 Franklin, of St. Paul's Episcopal Church, in a very 
 solemn and impressive manner. Mrs. Carter and 
 Mr. Shacklett, assisted by other members of the 
 church choir, sang with touching effect the hymn be- 
 ginning, "I would not live alway, I ask not to stay," 
 and also the chant entitled, " Thy will be done." 
 
 The pall-bearers were from among the long-time 
 intimate friends of Mr. Moorhead and his family, 
 namely, John Eliot, Robert W. Russell, William 
 S. Brown, A. H. Caughey, Joseph Mc Carter and 
 Thomas H. Carroll. A very large number of rel- 
 atives were present, including Mr. Moorhead's sis- 
 ters, Mrs. Stone, wife of the Lieutenant Governor, 
 Mrs. Derickson, widow of the late Charles Derick- 
 son of Meadville, and Mrs. Calvin Leet of Har- 
 borcreek. The sad rites were concluded at the 
 grave in the presence of many hundreds of people; 
 and if there ever were sincere regret and unfeigned 
 sorrow for one departed, it was when the mortal re- 
 mains of Isaac Moorhead — the unselfish friend, the 
 faithful public officer, the true-hearted man and 
 citizen, the kind husband and father — sank into 
 the bosom of the all-receiving earth, while the sol- 
 
ISAAC MOORIIEAD. 51 
 
 emn but hopeful words of the committal service 
 sounded in the ears of that silently weeping throng. 
 
 Among the many letters addressed to Mrs. Moor- 
 head on the occasion of her husband's death, one 
 from his hfe-long friend, Gen. McCreary, so well 
 represents the feelings of his intimate friends, and 
 is withal so fitting a tribute to his worth and manly 
 character, that it is given entire below : 
 
 Annapolis, June 5, 1881. 
 " Dear Mrs. Moorhead. 
 
 I have deferred writing till this evening, 
 hoping that in some way I might get home in time 
 to be present when Isaac will be laid to rest, but 
 I have hoped against hope. In no way could I get 
 away from here so as to reach home before Tues- 
 day at 3 o'clock in the afternoon, which I feared 
 would be too late. Indeed I am so confused and be- 
 wildered at what has happened in the few short days 
 since I last saw him that I can scarcely trust myself 
 to attempt to do anything. I do not try to reconcile 
 myself to the thought that when I go home I shall 
 not see him to tell him what I have seen. while 
 awayj just as I used to do, and in which he always 
 took so much interest; but my mind will not be 
 reconciled, for I cannot fully comprehend that he 
 is forever gone. I have lived a good many years 
 and have had many friends and relatives of the 
 nearest tie taken away, biit not one or all of them 
 
52 ISAAC MOOSEEAD. 
 
 have taken away so much of myself, so much of 
 my every day life with them as has Isaac in his 
 death. To me, going home without expecting to 
 see him is like going to a strange and unwelcome 
 land, and I really have no heart nor desire to go. 
 
 " For thirty-five years and more, indeed all of my 
 life that I know much of, I have' known Isaac as I 
 knew, I may safely say, no other. So trusting and 
 intimate was our friendship during all this time 
 that I never had a plan or a purpose or even a 
 secret that I either did not or was not willing to 
 confide to him, with the most absolute assurance 
 that it would be received by him and most sacredly 
 kept. I never saw the day or the moment, and 
 I believe he felt the same towards me, that he 
 would not have sacrificed his own interests and 
 his comfort, if by so doing he could have promoted 
 mine. Do not be surprised then when I say that 
 his death has made the future to me unreal and un- 
 certain ; for where is another to make so much of my 
 existence as he did ? 
 
 "Just before I left home I saw Max, who told me 
 that his father seemed better, and I went away 
 feeling that when I returned I would find him in 
 his old place, well and cheerful, and that we would 
 tell each other many things that would interest us 
 both. ■ When I saw by the paper that he was very 
 ill, I forced myself to believe that it would be but 
 temporary, but when I received the telegram from 
 Max that he was dead, I was unnerved and over- 
 
ISAAC MOOREEAD. 53 
 
 come. I handed it to the members of mj' family 
 who were with me and we could not speak to each 
 other about it, it was so overwhelming to us all. 
 I should not have trusted myself to write you at 
 this time, for my thoughts are not under my con- 
 trol, and I cannot say what I wish to say. I will 
 not attempt to use language to encourage yourself 
 and your family to become reconciled; only this, 
 that when one dies who was at peace with every 
 one, and who so fully believed and trusted in the 
 eternal truths of the great hereafter, and in the 
 sustaining doctrines of the Christian faith, as did 
 Isaac, then for his sake and for yours you should 
 feel that it is all well and for the best. Some time 
 when we both feel like talking upon the subject 
 of his death I want to hear some of the circum- 
 stances of his last hours. Little indeed did I think 
 when I saw him just before he left that I would be 
 sitting here in this strange pLice writing to you as 
 I have done. Accept it in the spirit in which it is 
 written and believe me most deeply and sincerely 
 
 Your friend, 
 
 D. B. McCreary." 
 
 One of Mr. Moorhead's old friends at the sea- 
 shore, Rev. H. G. Storer, a member of the house- 
 hold in which Mr. Moorhead at different times had 
 spent many delightful weeks, writes thus tenderly: 
 
 "Dear Mr. C. — Your sad note is received ; and 
 my heart aches with yours. You write that Mr. 
 
51^ ISAAC MOORBEAD. 
 
 Moorhead was broken down in health before he 
 left the railroad ; but till the reception of your 
 note, I had alwaj's supposed him to be remarkably 
 free from all ills of the flesh. I thought so be- 
 cause he came of a long-lived race — because his 
 habits were so regular and unexceptionable — be- 
 cause his spirits were so equable and cheerful — 
 because he had no burden of debts and no load of 
 cankering care to wear him out, but seemed al- 
 ways 80 young and fresh both in mind and body 
 and heart, and was so genial and friendly and 
 good that everybody must have wished that he 
 would never die. * * * 
 
 "Most truly do we all in this household here 
 sympathize with you, and with Mrs. M. and her 
 children, in view of the loss which 3'ou so justly call 
 'irreparable'; for there is not one of us that did not 
 admire and love him. This dwelling will always 
 seem the brighter and more' sacred to us, because 
 it-has been time and again lit up by his most wel- 
 come and cherished presence ; and a cloud hangs 
 over it to-day, and over our hearts as well, because 
 our fond hope that he would come back here once 
 more has now perished forever. What can we 
 say about it, and what can you or any of his lovers 
 say, but this one word to our Father in Heaven 
 (before whom, as our Lord has testified, 'not even a 
 sparrow is forgotten') 'not as we would, but as thou 
 wilt.' Standing on that rock, Faith can submit in 
 meek silence. Through that most precious faith, 
 
ISAAC MOORHEAD. 55 
 
 may God comfort 3'ou and keep us all in the peace 
 of God, till the shadows flee away, and the light of 
 the eternal Sabbath shall shine upon a world in which 
 there shall be no more sin, nor tears, nor death." 
 
 To the column of Notes ^ Queries in a Pennsyl- 
 vania journal, Dr. W. H. Egle, author of the his- 
 tory of Pennsylvania, contributes a brief biograph- 
 ical sketch of Mr. Moorhead. From this the fol- 
 lowing paragraph is taken: 
 
 "An intimate friend for years we can bear tes- 
 timony to Mr. Moorhead's scholarly accomplish- 
 ments. We are in possession of a number of his 
 articles, which go to show depth of thought, power 
 of description, and that artistic effect which a 
 gentleman of letters can alone acquire. In his- 
 toric research he was deeply interested, and the 
 citizens of Erie are indebted to him for many 
 pleasant reminiscences of their city, over the signa- 
 ture of 'John Ashbough.' He wrote for the Cen- 
 tennial year a Historical review of Erie county, 
 and was the author of the Erie county sketch 
 in Egle's History of Pennsylvania, which contains 
 the best and most lucid account of Perry's Battle 
 on Lake Erie extant. In the performance of a 
 great duty, he prepared a genealogy of his own 
 and allied lamilies ; and few in our State possessed 
 as full knowledge as he of the French occupation 
 of Western Pennsylvania. He had made this sub- 
 ject one of study and research, and it was confi- 
 dently expected that in due time the results of his 
 
5Q ISAAC MOORHEAD. 
 
 investigation would Lave been given to us. He 
 was much interested in our Notes ^ Queries, for 
 they related to the homes of his ancestors— to them, 
 their neighbors and friends. But the deeds of men 
 live after them, and the memory of the good shall 
 be preserved for ages. With a geniality and amia- 
 bility few possess — faithful, honest and true— our 
 friend Moorhead has passed to his reward." 
 
 W. H. B. 
 
 At the monthly meeting of the Dauphin County 
 (Pa.) Historical Society, held June 9th, 1881, on 
 motion of Rev. Dr. Eobinson, the following was. 
 unanimously ordered to be placed upon the records 
 of the society : 
 
 "The members of the Dauphin County Histori- 
 cal Society having heard of the sudden death of 
 their former fellow member and friend, Mr. Isaac 
 Moorhead, of Erie, Pa., would put on record their 
 sense of his high worth as a man and a friend, and 
 would bear testimony to his deep interest, especi- 
 ally in historical researches. His genial and gen- 
 tlemanly bearing, and his unquestionable integ- 
 rity in all the relations of life, had won for him 
 universal respect and confidence. We tender to 
 his widow and family assurances of our sympathy 
 in their great bereavement. 
 
 A. Boyd Hamilton, President. 
 
 T. H. Robinson, Cor. Sec." 
 
SOME THINGS SEEN ON THE CARS. 
 
 * THE "NICODEMUS NIGHTSHADE" LETTERS. 
 
 The Night Express East. 
 
 Oh! said I to Paul, is not this glorious? How 
 matters have changed with us since we worked 
 together in that other land on the — let me see — I 
 think it was the Lake Shore road. Railroad Com- 
 panies are all honest here. No secret agents are 
 required to note the doings of each other — my oc- 
 cupation is gone. We have a uniform gauge all 
 over this glorious land — perpetual summer here 
 — no standing out all the weary hours of the long, 
 long night, on a bleak embankment, with broken 
 wheels and axles, in the blinding snow and chilly 
 winds from the lake. We have no stops to make 
 for supper and then headlong speed to regain lost 
 time — but we have a car with a table always set 
 and loaded (our tables do not groaii in 'this country) 
 
 * These letters were written in the year 1859, and publish- 
 ed in the Erie Observer. 
 
68 SOME THINGS SEEN ON THE CARS. 
 
 with all that can please the eye and delight the 
 taste, and then we have " ecreider " that was Tiot 
 made in ITew Jersey, and cigars that never were 
 near Conneaut. We have a double track all over 
 this new country ; no wooden bridges; our pass- 
 age is noiseless and fleet as the wind. Cattle and 
 horses, if there are any here, are not allowed to 
 roam at large, and we cross no roads at grade. 
 We have coaches of incomparable convenience 
 and splendor, and we — Paul and Nicodemus — re- 
 ceive five thousand a year. I am appointed by 
 the Superintendent of the road to accompany Paul 
 in order to remonstrate with the delighted passen- 
 gers against the impropriety' of paying their fare 
 twice over to Paul. All this is very pleasant ; but 
 there came to our ears a noise — 
 
 " As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber 
 
 door. 
 " 'Tls some visitor,' I muttered, ' tapping at my chamber 
 door — 
 Only this and nothing more.' " 
 
 I opened my eyes and discovered Paul lighting 
 the gas. TLe rapping of the night watchman had 
 roused me — my dream had vanished. I was again 
 the secret agent. It was one o'clock and in half 
 an hour we would take the Night Express East. 
 
 Paul opened the door for the watchman who came 
 in and said, " Boys, I have some bad news for you; 
 
 there has been a terrible accident. Tom G , 
 
 the Conductor on the Central, has been killed on 
 his own train." Paul and I turned and looked at 
 
THE NIOET EXPRESS EAST. 69 
 
 each other a minute without speaking, but the 
 heart was busy with its memories. But yesterday 
 we had seen him in all the buoyancy of life and 
 hope, and now — could it be possible he had passed 
 through the dark valley ? We had known him 
 well for many years, and all that was noble and 
 generous had a home in his breast. Often had he 
 waited in the depot at Buffalo far in the night, 
 after a long and tiresome ride from Syracuse, for 
 Paul and me to appear to commend some destitute 
 and unfortunate fellow-creature to our care, and 
 then with a friendly grasp of the hand and a pleas- 
 ant word at parting, he would turn his weary foot- 
 steps to the hotel. A tear to your memory, poor 
 Tom, and may God deal gently with the loved 
 ones you have left to fight life's hard battles alone. 
 Paul turned to me and repeated, " Be ye also ready, 
 for in such an hour as ye think not the Son of 
 Man cometh;" and then the whistle sounded from 
 the West, and we walked on the platform with full 
 hearts, to take the " Night Express East." * * * 
 Have you never noticed those little hurried con- 
 ferences between Conductors, on leaving and taking 
 a train? Conductor from the west reports hurriedly 
 and says, "Heavy train to-night, hard crowd, two 
 coaches of raftsmen mostly drunk. You'll find a 
 Jew who says he has no monej'. I ' pulled ' him — 
 take him — he has plenty of soap. There is a 
 sprinkling of cripples, deaf and dumb, &c. There are 
 two Cincinnati pick-pockets aboard — we watched 
 
60 SOME THINGS SEEN ON THE CARS. 
 
 them close. They won't try to operate before 
 reaching DiinTcirk." The whistle sounds, and off we 
 go. First we enter the baggage-car. Baggageman 
 sits in chair smoking his meerschaum. — Express 
 Messenger has a bed of mail-bags with blanket 
 spread on his safe for a pillow. — Route Agent with 
 through mail from Cincinnati to New -York sleeps 
 heavily on his mail-bags which are piled on that long 
 box. Baggage-man hands us a ticket — points to 
 box under Eoute Agent and simply says "corpse." 
 We pass into second class car, I walking ahead 
 carrying lamp. We find an Irish woman wildly 
 weeping. In answer to our interrogatory, what is 
 the matter? — she answers, "Oh! my baby, my 
 baby is dead." We hold the lamp close and place 
 our hand upon its cold face and discover that it is 
 indeed dead. She had laid it down to sleep on a 
 vacant seat, and because it rested quietlj' she did 
 not disturb it, until, taking it up, to her horror, 
 she discovered it was dead. When she became 
 somewhat composed we learned her history, which 
 is, in a measure, that of many otliers we have met 
 since the money panic of 1857. Her husband was 
 a mechanic; and work failing in Newark, N. J., 
 (their home) they went to Chicago in hope of bet- 
 tering their condition. Here matters were still 
 worse. Vainly seeking for labor, and their means 
 being well nigh exhausted, the husband returned 
 to Newark and left the wife sick in Chicago with 
 barely means sufficient to purchase a second-class 
 
THE NIGHT EXPRESS EAST. 61 
 
 ticket to Jersey City and follow when her infant 
 was sufficiently old to bear the fatigue of travel. 
 She had not a shilling. We offered to bury her 
 child decently at Buffalo and send her on to her 
 husband, but she clung to it convulsively, and an- 
 nounced her determination to carry the dead infant 
 to her husband in 'Newark. We saw her safe 
 aboard the Hornellsville train at Buffiilo, and pro- 
 vided lier with sufficient means to procure food 
 until her arrival at home. The other occupants 
 of the car gazed on the woman with a sort of mute 
 wonder or stolid indiiFerenee, and although there 
 were several women, and some of her own nation, 
 in that car, whom we besought personally, yet not 
 one of them went to offer a word of consolation to 
 this affiicted mother. • 
 
 We pass into the next coach and our ears are 
 saluted with those well known sounds which indi- 
 cate the presence of whooping cough. Paul, look- 
 ing soberly at me, enquires, '' Nicodemus, have you 
 had the infantile diseases— such as whooping-cough, 
 mumps, measles, &c.?" I answer yes. A queer 
 fellow sitting at my elbow says, in a melo-dramatic 
 style, " 'Tis well," and, raising his finger, points to 
 the children who are laboring under the aforesaid 
 diseases. Here is a well known countenance, point- 
 ed out to us years ago by a policeman as that of a 
 pick-pocket. That moustache and beard of his are 
 false. A countryman is sitting in a seat with him.' 
 When Paul takes his ticket, he calls out, loud and 
 
6S SOME THINGS SEEN ON TEE CARS. 
 
 clear, " Passengers are warned against a pick- 
 pocket now in this ear." Pick-pocket gets up in a 
 few moments, and, remarking to his neighbor that 
 he does not deem it safe to remain with such com- 
 pany in this coach, moves into the second class car. 
 
 Next we find a German in a deep sleep under 
 the influence of plentiful potations of "lager." 
 After much effort we succeed in waking him. He 
 does not seem to understand anything about our 
 request for a ticket, but informs us that he is going 
 to Erie. When we succeed in making him com- 
 prehend the fact that we have passed Erie, and 
 that the train will not stop until we reach West- 
 field, and that he cannot get a glass of lager with- 
 in a mile of the depot at Westfield, our German 
 jumps up and down, .beats his head with his hand, 
 and says, " Yeokup, doo beest von tam fool." 
 
 There is rather a pretty face in that double seat. 
 It has been seen on this line of travel for years. It 
 is a sort of shuttlecock between the battledores 
 of New York and Cincinnati, and comes and goes 
 almost with the regularity of the route agents. 
 The owner of that pretty face has interested an inno- 
 cent-looking young man by her "winning ways". 
 He pays her fare to BuiFalo, and their acquaintance 
 and friendship is cemented. She is one of the mul- 
 titude of her class that travel up and down this 
 great thoroughfare capturing such noodles as that 
 — one of those "whose pathway is down to death"; 
 and unless some vision of the good and pure of that 
 
THE NIOHT EXPRESS EAST. 63 
 
 home which he has left far away rises between them, 
 she and her companions will lead him downward in 
 that horrible course which, persisted in, blights and 
 kills the body and damns the soul. It is not pleas- 
 ant to weave threads of this color in my rough web, 
 but they are so very numerous I could not fail to 
 notice them. 
 
 Very small boy travelling alone with a card sew- 
 ed on his cap, containing the following, written in . 
 a plain hand, "Conductors please inform this boy 
 of the changes of cars and dining stations. He 
 
 goes to Ifo. street. Providence, E. I., 
 
 and is ticketed through." In questioning said boy 
 we found the card a superfluity, he knowing all 
 about the route, the changes, etc., much better than 
 the majority of passengers. He knew that tick- 
 et carried him over the "six foot road," and that 
 he changed oars at Dunkirk, and all that sort of 
 thing. In conversation we found him well posted 
 and fast. The reason of this precocity was very 
 evident when he informed us that he had been vis- 
 iting a year in Chicago. Sitting with him in the 
 seat was a young lady with a guitar case beside 
 her, bare arms of the thin blue order, very sharp 
 elbows, sash on her neck, hair curling, of course, 
 black ribbon around her neck, pencil, locket, and 
 piece of Atlantic cable attached to it, and all pre- 
 sided over by a meaningless looking face, which 
 was almost buried in a copy of the ISTew York Led- 
 ger. She was bound for -'Sirikuice". 
 
64 SOME THINGS SEEN ON TEE CASS. 
 
 t 
 
 Here a loving couple occupy a seat together. 
 Most persons would suppose that they sustain some 
 near relation to each other. May be they do — but 
 it is a little odd that the man's ticket was pur- 
 chased in Chicago, and the woman's in Louisville. 
 Next seat — the old story — lady had pocket picked 
 at Columbus, lost money, tickets and all. The 
 other conductor informed us of this matter. All 
 i-ight — pass on. Another woman. "What's the 
 fare to Dunlcirk?" One dollar forty. She hands out 
 a counterfeit V. which of course we decline — then 
 a broken bank bill of same denomination, which 
 is also refused. She affects much surprise. Her 
 husband couldn't have known it was bad, &c. I 
 knew her husband — there are many such as he. 
 She was going to Binghamton and would doubtless 
 make the entire trip there and return without the 
 cost of a dime. The conductor wouldn't put a wom- 
 an off the cars, especially with a little child, oh no ! 
 
 Man hands us a paper which reads, "Pass the 
 Editor of the Pehelia, Kansas, Republican over 
 the North Missouri li. E.," &c. Paul informs him 
 that we cannot recognize the pass. After consid- 
 erable talk he indignantly demands the amount of 
 the fare to Westfield and pays it, and shortly after- 
 wards enquires of a brakeman the name of that 
 Conductor — looks daggers at us as we pass and re- 
 pass through the train — will not call said Conduc- 
 tor "gentlemanly and courteous" in the next issue, 
 but will pronounce the whole tribe of them "im- 
 
CINCINNATI EXPRESS. Qg 
 
 pertinent — stuck up," &c., Suddenly remembers 
 that he has received no check. Seeing me pass and 
 supposing me to be part of the institution, he de- 
 mands a check. I inform him that I am not the 
 Conductor, I am Nicodemus — but that he does not 
 need a check, for he stops at the first way station. 
 Eising to his feet he says excitedly — that makes no 
 difference — he has traveled, he has, and wants to 
 know what he will have to show if fare is again de- 
 manded. Fellow sitting a few seats behind says : 
 "Show yourself ior an ass, just as you have done 
 all the way from St. Louis." Editor turns around 
 fiercely and seems to recognize the speaker — sits 
 down, grumbles to himself something about the 
 ingratitude of railroads — the press warming them 
 into life and then they (the roads) viper-like, &c. 
 &c. Fellow behind replies, "Not much warming 
 received from you. Last year you were taking 
 daguerreotypes, and this year you are peddling 
 sewing-machines through Missouri and trying to 
 pass as an editor, when j'ou ain't anything but 
 a correspondent for an abolition paper in Kansas." 
 
 II. 
 
 Cincinnati Express- 
 
 It is 10 o'clock in the morning, the hour that 
 Paul and I ordinarily rise to breakfast. When we 
 come in on the 'Night Express we take a quiet 
 
66 ■ SOME THINQS SEEN ON THE CARS. 
 
 sleep extending far into the morning, and Wilhel- 
 mina prevails on our landlady to muffle the door- 
 bell lest it should disturb us, while she sits within 
 view of the front door to receive her visitors and 
 ours. At the breakfast table, if we have met any 
 particular characters on the train the night before, 
 we make our adventures with them and their pecul- 
 iarities the staple of conversation. Wilhelmina 
 then gives us our errand list in Buffalo for to-mor- 
 row morning. "Mrs. Bomblejar is going to give a 
 party, and wants a box of lemons — ditto of oranges, 
 three dozens of pine-apples, &c. &c. — Mrs. Thick- 
 broom did not get enough silk for her dress 
 at Griswold's — he has sold the balance of piece — 
 here is a sample — try and find two yards like it in 
 Buffalo. Miss Chickweed wishes us to go out to 
 Oakland's and get the verbenas in pots she looked 
 at last week. You know, says Wilhelmina (a little 
 wickedly), that you can take a 'buss — to Cold Spring 
 — and then you'll have but aboutfour or five squares 
 to walk, and you can ride back. Old Mr. "Winkle 
 wants you to go to Matthew's, and get a box of 
 Slambang's All-Killing Ointment, and a bottle of 
 Donebrown's Hair Exterminator. Mrs. Yorke left 
 this memorandum of articles, and wishes you to 
 leave the order at Barnum's to be filled and sent 
 home by express, and, like a true lady that she is, 
 encloses par funds to pay the bill. The balance, 
 Paul, you will have the extreme satisfaction of pay- 
 ing for in eastern money, and as usual receiving 
 
CINCINNATI EXPRESS. 37 
 
 from these accommodated people, the issues of 
 'banks located in Wisconsin and Illinois. But then, 
 Paul, you know you were created for the public 
 good, and as Mr. Winkle said this morning, ' What's 
 the use having friends, unless you can use them?' " 
 Paul replied, "Sometimes, JSTicodemus, I think that 
 the old man who got on the train at Westfield, and 
 met an old friend (whom he engaged in conversa- 
 tion, and concerning whom moi-e anon,) did not 
 say so very foolish a thing after all. The old man 
 in reply to a remark made by his friend, that they 
 were on the down-hill of life, and would soon sleep 
 at the foot, replied in all apparent sincerity, "My 
 Heavens, I hope so. I wouldn't live my life over 
 again with its infernal annoyances and bothers, 
 for the best keoio in Chautauqua County." 
 
 In the afternoon "Dag," Paul andl went fishing. 
 We dropped anchor opposite the mouth of Big Cas- 
 cade, and the way we hauled in the fish was a cau- 
 tion "to weakly minded people." Off to our right, 
 Mr. Scullaway and lady were seated in their pretty 
 cockle-shell boat, with their fishing apparatus 
 working to its full capacity. S is a true sports- 
 man, and long may he "fly in the wind." In near- 
 er the shore, in the stern of his "dug-out," sits "Old 
 Ben", with his little old pipe in his mouth, and his 
 fishing rod in his hand, motionless as the sculp- 
 tured marble at the gates of — (I forget the name of 
 the place.) We sometimes think that this old man, 
 "the last of Perry's men," will be spared to paddle 
 
68 SOME THINGS SEEN ON TEE CARS. 
 
 his canoe up and flown the Bay, as long as the black 
 bass frequent these waters. To be sure, this has 
 very little to do with running a train of cars. But 
 then, you know, so many folks are anxious about 
 the location of the depots, we thought we would 
 start once from the "Harbor," just to see how it 
 would seem. 
 
 The train from the west is late to-night. But at 
 last the whistle sounds — the train is here, the 
 "Comet" is attached, the bell rings, "all aboard," 
 and late as we are, you can bet your life, with Ike 
 Barker at the lever, "if the handle don't break the 
 beard is bound to come off; " which being interpret- 
 ed means, "we will be in Buftalo on time." This 
 train left Cincinnati at six o'clock this morning, 
 and it is the one that carries "the Southern travel." 
 It makes but three stops on our road, and is the 
 most pleasant train to run that we have. The gen- 
 erality of the men of the south have that plain, 
 frank, open and manly address so different from the 
 north, and the ladies (when alone they are requiring 
 your attention to their baggage, your escort to the 
 supper table, and many other little nameless atten- 
 tions which a faithful conductor knows so well how 
 to bestow,) never forget most cordially to thankyou, 
 and do not seem like many others to think the fa- 
 vor shown is on their side, in giving you an oppor- 
 tunity to devote yourself to them. 
 
 Paul was taken aback one evening at Dunkirk: 
 a woman from his train was going to a way sta- 
 
CINCINNATI EXPRESS. 69 
 
 tion on the Erie road, and in re-checking her bag- 
 gage (which is not done on the train for small 
 way stations) she experienced some annoyance and 
 delay. She came into the dining saloon a little 
 flushed, and remarked to Paul, "The conductor 
 from Cleveland to Erie was very attentive to me, 
 and here I have been left to my own destruction." 
 Paul had two or three ladies at the table, who 
 offered to excuse him until he calmed this excited 
 individual ; he, however, remarked to them that she 
 was an old traveler and could take care of herself. 
 She was simply one of that class of individuals 
 denominated " sand-flies" by the train boys. I 
 thought I would play smart, and offered my servi- 
 ces to 11 girl at Dunkirk, and she gave her head a 
 toss, and switching her crinoline, she replied pertly, 
 "Thank you, sir, I've traveled enough not to need 
 your assistance." 
 ♦ In addition to our Cincinnatti folks we have 
 Chicago and the Wabash Valley represented on 
 the train. Leavins; behind time we are boomiug' 
 along at a high rate of speed. A diminutive, wea- 
 zen-faced man looking out of the window until his 
 head swims, draws a long breath, and enquires in 
 a loud squealing voice, "Massy sakes, if we should 
 run off.the track neow w-h-e-r-e would we go to?" 
 Grruft" fellow with a head shaped like a lemon, hair 
 combed down and cut straight across in front, as 
 though the barber had crowded a crock over his 
 head and cut by the rim, seems annoyed at little 
 
70 SOME TEINOS SEEN ON TEE CARS. 
 
 man's remark and replies, "Most probably you'd 
 fetch up in some out of the way place beyond the 
 reach of your friends." Round-faced fellow, jolly 
 but sappy, remarks as Paul tears off his ticket, 
 "Don't spile my tikit, I paid fourteen dollars for it, 
 and you're tarin on 't ; yer won't leave me enough 
 to git home with," and then he haw, haw, haws, and 
 looks around him, and seeing no one inclined to 
 laugh at his loitty remark, he concludes that his 
 neighbors don't know new goods when they see 
 them, and subsides. 
 
 A little farther on — a double seat and a sight 
 familiar to us of the train. A young and care- 
 worn woman, supporting the wasted frame of her 
 
 husband, pleads earnestly for Paul to stop at R . 
 
 Her husband is dying. The last resort — the south- 
 era journey — has failed to have any good effect on 
 the doomed man ; and, oh! she wishes so much he 
 may reach their own home before he dies. She 
 describes the situation of the house — their home 
 — close beside the track. Although the train is 
 behind time, and we are straining every nerve to 
 make a connection, Paul cannot deny this woman, 
 nor resist the anxious look on the face of the 
 dying man. — We reach their home — Paul and I 
 carry him in and lay him beneath his own roof; 
 
 and three days afterwards in passing R with 
 
 the train, we see a group of persons with uncovered 
 heads surrounding a mound of fresh earth in the 
 village church-yard, and the hands of the solemn 
 
CINCINNATI EXPRESS. 71 
 
 man of God raised to Heaven, and we know that 
 our passenger has reached the end of life's journey 
 and is at rest. 
 
 A bewildered looking Celt, with a large and dirty 
 family has just exchanged his checks with the 
 checkman who passes on. The man is sweating 
 like a sausage-stuffer, has his checks in one hand, 
 his tattered and torn tickets in the other and a puz- 
 zled look on his countenance. He yells an impre- 
 cation at the crying children, looks at the checks, 
 then at the tickets, and now at the retreating check- 
 man, and proceeds to scratch that head of his in 
 vain effort at a solution of the quandary he is in. 
 We take his tickets and discover that they are from 
 the Wabash Valley and take him to New York by 
 the Erie road. He salutes us with "Keppen, will 
 yez plaze explain till me what I'm to do; betwane 
 the luggage and the childer and the tickets, I'm all 
 through other." We set the Celt right, explained 
 everything particularly to hira, and saw the entire 
 family off" the train at Dunkirk, and then went to 
 supper. On going through the train, after leaving 
 Dunkirk, behold this interesting family in another 
 coach of the same train. We cannot describe to 
 you the wails they set up at the discovery of their 
 blunder. The father commenced swearing, and his 
 amiable looking companion began to "bate the 
 childer by way of devarshiin." At Silver Creek 
 we unloaded them to return to Dunkirk on next 
 train, and we must say the chances were in favor 
 of their again passing that station. 
 
 X 
 
72 SOME THINGS SEEN ON TEE CABS. 
 
 An old lady sits behind this party munching pop- 
 corn and carrying a vagabond looking cur on her 
 lap, which snaps at Ptiul as he reaches for the old 
 lady's ticket. About this time an odor fills the 
 car strongly suggestive of skunks in the vicinity. 
 These offensive animals come up oat of the 
 swamps at night, and, if the night is cool, take a 
 position on the rail, which yet retains the heat of 
 the sun, and, dazzled with the brilliant light of the 
 lamp of the approaching locomotive, remain until 
 struck by the pilot, and directly a sense of their 
 presence is diffused throughout the train. Old 
 couple behind commence to snuff", and suggest to 
 Paul the propriety ofputtingoutold lady's dog, as 
 he has been killing skunks. Old lady flares up and 
 we pass along leaving them to blaze away at each 
 other. Paul reaches his hand to the next man for 
 his ticket ; the man rises to his feet, grasps Paul's 
 dexter and gives it a hearty shake, with a "how 
 d'ye do," presuming of course that the conductor 
 was some old acquaintance whom he had forgotten. 
 Paul asks for his ticket, and, receiving it, passes 
 on. Man remarks, "Terribly warm time of it ; Yes ; 
 Dry; Yes; Need rain; Yes; Grass is light; Y'es; 
 Frost do much damage ? Y"es, killed ajl the 
 children in Chautauqua County under two years of 
 age. No! Yes." Old lady says, "Marcy onus! 
 killed the children !" and then looks affectionately 
 at her mangy-looking cur^ 
 
 Old lady with pug nose and iron-rimmed spec- 
 
CINCINNATI EXPRESS. 7S 
 
 tacles, replies to Paul's request for her ticket — 
 "Yes, I've got a ticket for Buffalo, but I a'int go- 
 ing to give it up till I git my chist." We ex- 
 plain, remonstrate, but she holds the ticket tight 
 and saj's, "You a'int a-goin' to come any of your 
 delewsions over me, I cau tell ye ; I've heerd tell 
 all abeout ye. Didn't Jeremiah tell me heow to 
 deu, and to be kereful ? He's been deown twice 
 afore." At last vpe get the ticket by making her 
 understand that it is the check she is not to ffive 
 up before receiving her baggage. 
 
 Man carrying an infant and endeavoring with 
 a bottle of milk with rubber top to supply the 
 place of a mother. You can read the story as he 
 gazes in that infant's face and traces the features of 
 its absent mother. She has died in that far off 
 western country, maybe from the lack of the com- 
 forts of her old 'Ee\Y England home, and he is tak- 
 ing the child to its grand parents; and, poor man, 
 when he has fulfilled her dying charge in regard 
 to the infant, you will see him returning alone. 
 God be with him in his terrible privation. 
 
 A woman, with face dreadfully scratched and 
 bruised, holds a child tight in her arms and sits in an 
 absent mood, save when the train thunders over a 
 bridge or rounds a curve, and then the expression 
 on her face is one of wild anxiety. She and her 
 child escaped with their lives in that terrible acci- 
 dent which occurred the other day on the Michigan 
 Southern Boad. She informs us that three hours 
 
74 SOME TEINOS SEEN ON TEE CARS. . 
 
 after she was taken from the ruins, her child was 
 found safe' and uninjured clinging to the body of 
 a dead woman, and then, whispering to Paul, she 
 enquires if he considers our bridges quite safe. 
 
 Two Milesians in a seat together. One rises: 
 "Mr. Kundookther, could jez let the two of us go to 
 Doonkerk for a shillin?" "Fo, you must pay the 
 regular fare" "Oh, bad cess to yez, but yer hard," 
 and then they pay. Behind are two returning 
 gold-seekers from Pike's Peak, traveling on a pass, 
 dirty, ragged, sunburnt and penniless — but "satis- 
 fied." We are in the last coach, and now the rain 
 begins to pour down outside, and in comes a 
 bruised, bunged-eyed looking man from the hind 
 platform. A glance at him and some others we 
 have not yet reached shows them to be from the 
 "Gem of the Say." Irishman and his wife got on 
 at Westfield and want to get off at Salem. We 
 don't stop at Salem. Woman says we must stop 
 at Salem, she lives there. Paul tells them there is 
 no use in talking; we are behind time and can't 
 stop, and wouldn't stop any way. Then came a 
 volley of abuse from them which continued until 
 we reached Dunkirk, and as they stepped off the 
 train and "struck out" in the wet for a walk of 
 some miles, the woman turning to Paul and shak- 
 ing her fist at him said, "Condoocter, I do hope til 
 Gad you'l break your neck before you get til Buf- 
 falo," and then spit venomously at him. Paul re- 
 plied : "It is a wet night and dark, pick your steps. 
 
NIGHT EXPRESS WEST FROM BUFFALO. 76 
 
 aud keep out of the cattle-guards, and, lest we may 
 never see you again, we bid you an affectionate 
 Farewell." "Farewell," echoed Nicodemns. 
 
 III. 
 
 The Night Express West from Buffalo. 
 
 We have not journe3'ed together since the heats 
 of summer. Then our eyes fell upon the i-ich 
 green of the forests and the fields of waving corn ; 
 and when we stopped at the stations our ears were 
 saluted with the chirrup of the cricket and the dry, 
 crackling song of the locust. Now the trees have 
 dropped their mantle of leaves, the voice of the in- , 
 sect world is hushed, the farmer has garnered his 
 grain, and the bleak winds of November are warn- 
 ing us of the approach of winter. 
 
 Again and again since we met you last we have 
 passed "black mile-stones" in our journey of life. 
 Death has called us away from the train, and we 
 have accompanied one and another dear friend to 
 the water's edge. We have asked those shining 
 ones that stood upon the other side of the river "If 
 a man die shall he live again ?" and they have an- 
 swered us, "I am the resurrection and the life", saith 
 the Lord. "He that believeth in me, though he 
 were dead yet shall he live, and whosoever liveth 
 and believeth in me shall never die." We have 
 
76 SOME THINQS SEEN ON THE CARS. 
 
 turned back to the busy scenes of life purified 
 somewliat, we trust, by the fires of afiliction, and 
 in the long night hours on the train we think of 
 the pure and upright exafnple left us as a rich leg- 
 acy by him who has passed away forever; and we 
 think of her whose sun went down in the morn- 
 ing of her days. We see the tears falling from 
 the eyes of her young friends, standing around her 
 as she lay cofiined and cold beneath the maples in 
 the yard, on that still, dreamy, Indian summer day, 
 with the flowers wound in her hair and clasped in 
 her hand. We never can forget the calm quiet of 
 that afternoon — the linzy, dreamy atmosphere — the 
 deathly stillness — the dead leaves falling around 
 her as her young companions sang the funeral 
 hymn, just before her face was hid from us not 
 again to be seen until the morning of the resurrec- 
 tion. Since then we have not felt like writing, but 
 rather like passing on quietlj^ with the throng un- 
 til beckoned by the silent messenger to the shores 
 of the great river. But we have duties to perform 
 in life, and stern reality must be stared full in its 
 brassy face; and again wo are amid the realities of 
 the busy world. 
 
 Rap, rap, rap, — " Hello!" "Half past three." 
 "Aj'e, Aye." Delightful hour of the morning to 
 arise and commence the duties of the day ! We 
 have had five hours of rest, and up we rise to leave 
 the depot with the Boston Express. The hacks and 
 •omnibuses are rumbling down Exchange Street as 
 
NIGHT EXPRESS WEST FROM BUFFALO. 77 
 
 we reach the pavement. A raw breeze is blowing 
 from the east, and a cutting fine rain strikes us in 
 the face as we walk briskly down to the depot. 
 
 The train is in from Albany, and the hackmen 
 stand ready, announcing with their "clarion notes" 
 to such unlucky passengers as are intending to 
 stop at Buffalo, their ability and disposition to car- 
 ry them to any depot, hotel or residence in the city ; 
 and the confusion of Babel begins. Two engines 
 from Erie and Syracuse, their head lights illumina- 
 ting the depot with dazzling brilliancy, and blow- 
 ing and fizzing and fretting like blooded racers 
 anxious to take the track — the engineer with his 
 little lamp and can in hand giving the joints and 
 slides a last "dope," passengers in the car quarrel- 
 ing over the right to seats, and calling for confir- 
 mation of their claims. Two or three dogs, in the 
 baggage car, add their piteous howls to the inces- 
 sant din, while the deep bass voice of Joe M 
 
 rises above all the noise as he calls out the num- 
 bers of the checked baggage and receives for an- 
 swer, "Lake Shore," "Steamboat," "Omnibus 
 Line". 
 
 At last the conductor's "all aboard" is heard, 
 and we step upon the platform. The signal is giv- 
 en, and we move .eastward and southward until we 
 double the foot of the lake. We enter the firpt coach, 
 I carrying Paul's lamp and shaking up those who 
 from fatigue of travel have dropped asleep. 
 
 We meet an old lady in spectacles rusliing for 
 
78 SOME THINGS SEEN ON TEE CARS. 
 
 the door, band-box in one hand, umbrella in 
 the other. We ask her what is the trouble, " Why 
 Massy sakes, I don't want to go back to Albany. 
 I'm going to I-o-way." We explain the cause of 
 our course being eastward, and the old lady se'ttles 
 awaj' in her seat, satisfied. Numerous passengers 
 who had turned their seats to i'ace the West now 
 rise and turn them back again. 
 
 Here is trouble ahead, Paul ; a young man on his 
 first journey is looking doubtfully at a verj' bright 
 watch iu his hand — holds it to his ear and shakes it, 
 and then listens again. He hands the watch to 
 Paul for his opinion of it. — It is soon examined. 
 "How came you by this watch, young man ?" says 
 Paul. "Well, you see, an honest-looking fellow 
 came in before we started and said he had left his 
 money in his trunk, and it was already checked and 
 stowed away in the baggage car and he could not 
 get it till he got to Cleveland. He had got his 
 family aboard and hadn't money enough into twen- 
 ty dollars about him to get his tickets, and if I'd 
 just let him have twenty dollars till he got to Cleve- 
 land he would get his trunk and make it all right ; 
 and he gave me this gold watch worth a hundred 
 dollars for security; and this man here says I am 
 sold and the watch aint worth a cent. Whj', when I 
 told the fellow that I was going out to Mc Greggor's 
 Landing, says he, 'how lucky ; that's just where we 
 are going to settle.'" " Young man," said Paul, 
 " your watch is worthless, and you will never see 
 
NIQHT EXPRESS WEST FROM BUFFALO. 79 
 
 your friend again;" We pass on. Listen to that 
 group in the farther end of the coach ; it won't 
 require much eifort. It is strange that many peo- 
 ple while riding on the train think that they must 
 raise their voices to the key of the scream of a pan- 
 ther to be heard by their companions — not know 
 ing, as we do, that the voice always sounds distinct 
 and clear above the rattle and rush of the cars. 
 
 The train soon arrives at Dunkirk, and here we 
 have a large accession to it, including three coach 
 loads of Mormons from England and Wales, un^ 
 der the guardianship of an elder from Salt Lake. 
 The Elder has his hat set jauntily on the side of his 
 head, wears a Talma coat, heavy, full beard, and 
 has a most forbidding and villainous looking coun- 
 tenance. There were many young girls of the 
 party attired in grey stuff dresses, with brown flats. 
 They had the fresh, clear complexions, with that 
 nice blending of the lily and the rose, seen no where 
 in such perfection as in the faces of the English 
 and Welsh peasantry. 
 
A VISIT TO GETTYSBURG. 
 
 October 1864. 
 
 It was dark as we walked from the depot to the 
 tavern of Mr. Mc Clellan, on the public square, 
 ill Gettysburg. We pressed our hands upon the 
 old-fashioned door-handles of the house, and were 
 cordially welcomed by our plain and kind land- 
 lord. Down we sat by a good coal fire. On the 
 mantle-piece was a coal-oil lamp, made from a shell 
 from the world-renowned battle-field. The par- 
 traits on the wall were the grand-parents of the 
 landlord. I knew at once I would like this hotel. 
 The father of the landlord had kept it before him. 
 We had an excellent supper, and as I sat down to 
 a cigar, Old John Burns came in. He was "the 
 only citizen of Gettysburg," it is said, " who took 
 up arms against the Rebels in defence of their 
 homes." John Burns gave us a description of 
 what he saw during the battle, and seemed very 
 modest in everything pertaining to himself. He was 
 wounded. His hatred of " Copperheads " seemed 
 greater even than of Rebels in arms, and he an- 
 nounced to me, in a very confidential kind of way, 
 
A VISIT TO GETTTSBURQ. 81 
 
 tliat " the Almighty was not going to permit them 
 infernal scoundrels to ruin the country." 
 
 Our bed was high. I had to pick Ruth up and 
 toss her into it. All right ; I wouldn't have had it 
 otherwise for the world. And here we laid our- 
 selves down quietly and slept undisturbed, where, 
 but sixteen months since, two hundred thousand 
 men were busily engaged in killing each other with 
 many muskets and four hundred pieces of ar- 
 tillery. 
 
 I was awake very early in the morning, and 
 passed out through the town, and soon saw evi- 
 dences of the conflict on the trees, fences and 
 houses down towards Cemetery Hill. Gettysburg 
 has about twenty-eight hundred inhabitants. Fin- 
 ishing my short walk I returned to our excellent 
 breakfast of partridge, sausage,' apple-butter, &c. 
 Mr. E. of Philadelphia went with us first to the 
 National Cemeterj'. Workmen were placing a 
 substantial stone fence around it, and building a 
 neat brick dwelling-house for the keeper. Here 
 we saw the graves of something like three thou- 
 sand Union Soldiers buried by States; Pennsylva- 
 nia soldiers by themselves, New Hampshire sol- 
 diers by themselves, &e. Sticks with pencil marks, 
 and names carved rudely with knives on boards, 
 marked the resting places of the brave men below. 
 A marble headstone is to mark the grave of each 
 soldier. Oh, what a sacrifice was made here, just 
 sixteen months ago, to save this nation ! 
 
SS A VISIT TO OETTTSBUBO. 
 
 The Cemetery of the town adjoins the National 
 Cemetery. Through and over this Cemetery the 
 storm of battle raged. The top of a large stone, 
 marking the grave of a soldier killed at Fair Oaks, 
 was broken by a shot or shell. In passing through 
 we saw a stone with this inscription: "i?e ye 
 ready ! Jennie Wade, killed by a hall fired by a Rebel 
 sharp-shooter at the Battle of Gettysburg, July 3d, 
 1863, whilst in discharge of her household duties. 
 Aged W years, 1 m. and 7 d." From this place we 
 went to Culp's Hill, our extreme right. And how 
 shall I describe this place ! 'It would fill many 
 pages of this book were I to attempt any descrip- 
 tion, particular in its character, of the disposition 
 of ours and the enemy's troops, the difterent days 
 and at the difterent points, miles apart, of this great 
 battle. Here Slocum and the 12th corps carried 
 death into the enemy's ranks. The desperate char- 
 acter of the fighting is seen and registered on the 
 trees and the rocks. All over the trunks of those 
 trees, for twenty feet above the roots, are marks of 
 the fierce musketry. You cannot lay your hand 
 over many of the trees without covering a mark of 
 a minie ball or a wound from shell. Huge limbs 
 swing by a few tendons, wounded and disfigured 
 by shell. All over the ground here, and every- 
 where in the streets of Gettysburg, in the woodsj 
 in the roads, in the fields, on the mountain side — 
 are scattered the debris of vast armies — the ashes 
 of camp-fires, cast-off" shoes and boots, coats, 
 
A VISIT TO QETTYSBUna. 83 
 
 shifts, cartouch-boxes, haversacks, caps, etc. etc. 
 For miles and miles they are scattered on tlie 
 ground and you are never out of sight of them. 
 
 Our next ride was out along our lines to our ex- 
 treme left. The presence of our excellent guide, 
 Mr. Frey, was invaluable. 
 
 I found much benefit from my late conversations 
 with Mr. Vincent, and the re-reading of all our 
 accounts of the battle, together with the Rebel his- 
 tory and the narrative of the British officer in the 
 enemy's line at the time of the battle. The posi- 
 tions and disposition of the corps and the leaders 
 Vpere fresh in my mind. 
 
 How can I describe the place of the last des- 
 perate charge of the enemy on Hancock's corps 
 and their terrible and final repulse ! There they 
 went down like dry grass before fire. To use .the 
 expressive words of a rebel officer of Pickett's who 
 described the charge to me : " Our lines seemed to 
 vanish and disappear." Along near here we no- 
 ticed a grave surrounded with a fence and a head- 
 board with this inscription : "Lieut. Col. I. Was- 
 den, 22d Ga. Vols.; killed near Gettysburg, July 
 3d, 1863." - Here were the Peach Orchard and the 
 fields around it — the one field where sixteen hun- 
 dred rebels are buried — the spot where Barksdale 
 was killed. (The farmer that lived near pro- 
 nounced Barksdale the bravest man he ever saw). 
 As we approached Round Top it was at once evi- 
 dent that it was the key of the whole position— 
 
SJi, A VISIT TO OETTYSBUBG. 
 
 that point lost and all was lost. Driving our car- 
 riage down the rocky lane that leads from the turn- 
 pike to Round Top, we soon reached the base. 
 Dismounting among the rocks, we saw some bones 
 of a rebel, with shreds of his "butternut" cloth- 
 ing. We passed through the woods filled with 
 roc]<:s, and ascended the Round Top. The summit 
 is clear of trees, but they are scattered on the, sides. 
 On a large rock near the summit is cliiseied this 
 inscription : " Col. Strong Vincent fell here com'g 
 .3d Brig. 1st div. -Sth corps, July 2d, 1863." 
 
 Standing on tlie rock and looking down into the 
 valley, Mr. Frey called my attention to the "Devil's 
 Den," which consisted of two immense rocks stand- 
 ing up side and side, with a small but convenient 
 opening between them. Across the top was another 
 immense rock. The opening was in such a position 
 that neither shot nor shell, although freely thrown 
 at tlie rebel sharp-shooter occupying this place, 
 could reach him. The story goes (and I deem 
 it an exceedingly plausible one, and Mr. Frey says 
 he does not doubt it), that Col. Vincent was hit by 
 this sharp-shooter in the " Devil's Den." After re- 
 peated eiibrts to dislodge him, two of Berdan's 
 sharp-shooters were called up and the locality of the 
 fellow pointed out to them. One of them slipped 
 down to the friendly cover of a large Whitewood 
 tree, to the right of Vincent's rock, and flanking 
 the opening of the "Devil's Den". Here waiting 
 until the rebel reloaded his gun, and coming cau- 
 
A VISIT TO GETTYSBUEO. 85 
 
 tionsly to the end of the rock, be took deliberate 
 aim and sent the rebel to his long home. This 
 sharp-shooter has been at Gettysburg since the bat- 
 tle, and went with Mr. Frey to all these localities. 
 
 The rebel's grave is just at the mouth of the 
 den, and his boots I saw lying just within the den, 
 thrown there by Mr. Frey at the burial of the rebel. 
 Col. Vincent, Generals Weed and Haslett, com- 
 manding battery of regulars, were killed on Round 
 Top, probably all by sharp-shooters. A little bush 
 tree of chestnut oak grows alongside of Vincent's 
 Rock. I broke off a piece of rock from the under 
 side, out of sight, and took up a very small ever- 
 green tree some five inches high, and three black 
 raspberry bushes, as mementoes of the place. 
 
 It has been the fashion to attribute rashness to 
 Col. Vincent for undue and unnecessary exposure, 
 which led to his untimely death. Standing on 
 the rock where he stood, and surveying the nature 
 of the ground and all the circumstances, I could 
 not call him rash. We have the ample and positive 
 testimony of his superiors that in everything pertain- 
 ing to a soldier, he was as absolutely perfect as was 
 possible for a man to be who had not received a mili- 
 tary education. But the education received at Har- 
 vard and the habits of close application formed there, 
 were all applied to the learning of the duties of the 
 field. In the long, long months of inaction the field 
 and its possible contingencies arc all calculated, and 
 a man's duties to country, cause, corps, and family 
 
86 A VISIT TO GETTYSBDMO. 
 
 are all weighed. He knew the utter uselessiiess of 
 undue exposure, and that it was not the mark of 
 the brave man, but of the fool. The old Butter- 
 field Brigade lay along the ridge of Round Top. 
 The rifles and cannon of the enemy had terribly 
 thinned their ranks. Again and again the enemy 
 pressed up the rocky sides, and again and again 
 were beaten. Anxious eyes were turned to the 
 rear for the promised supports; they came not. 
 Hope began to desert the thinned and jaded ranks 
 of the old brigade, which was known as the flower 
 of the old Peninsular army of the Potomac. These 
 hardy, sun-browned men were the veterans of a score 
 of battle-fields. Round Top Mountain was the key 
 to the whole battle-field. Lose that, and the battle 
 of Gettysburg was a rebel triumph. And who does 
 not know that this battle was the turning point in 
 the history of this nation? Baltimore and Wash- 
 ington were then at the mercy of Rebeldora. The 
 nation was shrouded in gloom. 
 
 We all remember the first days of July, 1863. 
 God grant we may never see their like again ! Col. 
 Vincent commanded on Round Top. None knew 
 better than he the result of failure to hold it. He 
 was hard-pressed. Promised re-inforcements had 
 not come. It seemed as though we must retreat. 
 Vincent comprehended the position. Springing 
 upon the rock to command with his eye the entire 
 brigade, in a firm voice he ordered them to stand 
 fast, encouraging them with the promised re-in- 
 
4 VISIT TO QETTYSBURO. 87 
 
 forcements, and by gesture and voice, and with all 
 the energy of his soul, setting the example of he- 
 roic determination to hold Round Top Mountain. 
 But on that rock he was smitten with the rebel 
 bullet and his active work on earth ended — anoth- 
 er victim of this damnable rebellion. We were 
 playing for a great stake at Gettysburg — all the 
 mighty future of this nation — he and thousands of 
 others died to secure it to us and to our children. 
 
 Passing down to the vast rocks, scattered about 
 in the valley at the foot of the mountain, which 
 afforded such excellent lurking spots for the en- 
 emy's sharp-shooters, we were told by our guide 
 that many wounded rebels had crawled under 
 these rocks for safety. After the battle heavy 
 rains set in and drowned many of them, and the 
 current of water brought them to view. Others 
 there were undiscovered until the flesh had fallen 
 from their bones. Here, in a secluded spot among 
 the rocks, I found the bones of a rebel just as he 
 had fallen. Picking up one of his shoes to re- 
 move the string, to tie together some little trees, 
 the bones of his foot tumbled out. It was a 
 '^Georgia state shoe" made from canvas, with 
 leather tips and heel stiflfeners. From among his 
 ribs I picked up a battered minie ball which doubt- 
 less caused his death. 
 
 Moving aside a flat stone, Mr. Frey showed us 
 the grinning face and skull of a rebel. Some of 
 thpm in this rocky part of the field have very shal- 
 
8^ A VISIT TO OETTYSBURG. 
 
 low graves. I asked the reason of this, and was 
 told tliat first all the wounded of both armies were 
 cared for, and they numbered tens of thousands. 
 All the horses and mules of the county that bad 
 not been taken by the rebels were pressed for the 
 Union army — assistance of that kind was out of the 
 question. Our own dead were then buried. The 
 weather was intensely hot and the bodies were de- 
 cayed too much to remove. They were buried 
 where they fell, the scanty earth was scraped from 
 the sides of the rocks and with small stones cover- 
 ed over the dead. 
 
 Getting into the carriage, we passed over be- 
 tween Big and Little Round Top to the other 
 turnpike. It was near evening, and we were una- 
 ble to visit the house where Col. Vincent was car- 
 ried; but we saw it from our carriage — the house 
 in which he died. We passed close to the little 
 house used by Gen. Meade for his head-quarters. 
 It was perforated by shell. ITear the house, in a 
 huge stack, we saw the bones of eighteen horses 
 — those of his staff killed in the yard. 
 
 The day was beautiful, and the sun was setting 
 as we rode into Gettysburg. We had a pleasant 
 evening with our Philadelphia acquaintances at 
 the hotel, some talk with old John Burns and Mr. 
 Frey, incidents from the landlord and a girl in the 
 house, and then to bed. 
 
 Soon after breakfast the next morning we started 
 for a long walk along the rebel lines — the two Mr. 
 
A VISIT TO GETTYSBURG. 89 
 
 Espers, Caroline, Rnth and I. Passing out the 
 Chambersburg turnpike on by the college and sem- 
 inary used as hospital and head-quarters by Gen. 
 Lee and the rebels, we struck tlie rebel lines where 
 they crossed the road and turned to the left. Here 
 again, through the fields and the woods, was all the 
 debris of an army. I noticed that the shoes were 
 mostly small sized and "English make", showing 
 they had run the blockade. 
 
 The lines were perfect, made of stone, and, in 
 absence of stone, rails covered with earth. Far 
 along here we walked, Mr. E. with his coat on his 
 arm, for it was warm. Again we looked at the 
 ground of the last desperate charge on Hancock, 
 saw the frames of shells everywhere. We stopped 
 at the house of Peter Rogers. He was gone ; in 
 fact all were gone but a small bo}' who showed us 
 the house, disfigured and torn with shot and shell. 
 This boy was Peter's grandson, and was a plain, 
 guileless farmer's boy. Shells entered the house 
 from Cemetery Hill and Round Top, one bursting 
 in a bureau and pinning a portion of the contents 
 to the log walls, where they still remained. A 
 piece of shell was stuck in a leaf of the table. A 
 niinie ball struck just over the clock. A rebel 
 sharp-shooter was killed on top of the house, and 
 tumbled down in front of the door. Another died 
 of exhaustion on the steps. Many were found 
 dead in the yard. In a field behind the house sev- 
 eral were buried; the feet of one stuck up through 
 
90 A VISIT TO OE'ITYSBVRO. 
 
 the ground. Ilis skull was bare, the boy said. "In 
 the house during the battle was grandpap and Jo- 
 sephine. Grandmam was on Round Top in the 
 lines. I was in town. After the battle was over 
 grandpap came into town and said the house was 
 turned clear around and the cow was killed and 
 " Cain" was killed ('•Cain" was a big dog who 
 wanted to discover the thickness of my pantaloons) 
 — that grandmam had gone. off, etc. I went out 
 then. I wanted to see "Cain." The pickets were 
 shooting at one another along the pike, yet, but I 
 was'nt afraid. "Cain" was gone three days and then 
 came back. Josephine went out where they were 
 shooting, and split ^yood and brought it in to bake 
 bread for the soldiers ; and she carried wate^ night 
 and day to the wounded of both armies. The rebel 
 officers ordered her back to the honse repeatedly, 
 telling her she would be killed. Finally they per- 
 suaded her to wrap something white about her, as 
 she moved around in the dark carrying water to 
 the wounded, to designate her and her mission." 
 Noble Josephine! We asked for her. She mar- 
 ried shortly after and moved to the Ohio. 
 
 On the front porch was a box, such an one as is 
 always found on the hind end of old Pennsylva- 
 nia wagons for a feed trough. In that box was a. 
 quantity of shot, shell, etc., gathered on the farm. 
 The boy said " Grandpap sold three hundred 
 pounds of minie balls for lead." Passing along 
 we saw where four rebel colonels were buried in a 
 
A VISIT TO OETTTSBURG. 91 
 
 row. I think from their position they were Gener- 
 al Arrastead's colonels. 
 
 We reached the hotel and dined. Firing had 
 been heard from below, and speculations were in- 
 dulged in as to whether it was Sheridan or onlj' 
 some of Mosby's men out on a lark. It decided 
 ns, however, not to go down via Charabersburg, 
 Antietam and South Mountain as we had thought 
 of doing. After dinner, Caroline and Rutli being 
 tired, I struck out alone across the fields to Gulp's 
 Hill, walking through a lane with stone fence on 
 either side. I crossed a field where they were 
 quarrying stone for cemetery walls. Here I found 
 an old acquaintance, a persimmon tree ; the fruit 
 of course was not yet ripe. I climbed Gulp's Hill 
 and walked around it again, wondering how any- 
 thing alive could escape the "shower of leaden 
 hail", the niarks of which were everywhere. An- 
 other night's sleep at our excellent hotel, another 
 walk through the town, and we left our pleasant 
 Pennsylvania landlord, Pennsylvania house, and 
 Pennsylvania town. 
 
VIRGINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 
 
 * Letters written in 1868. 
 
 I. 
 
 Fredericksburg. 
 
 Standing on the Stafford Heights, on the banks 
 of the Rappahannock, a few days after the disas- 
 trons battle of Fredericksburg, with a group of 
 ofScors, I swept the fatal field with a glass, care- 
 fully noting each point as my friends directed my 
 vision and detailed the fearful terrors of the daj'. 
 I determined to visit the ground where Clay, and 
 Riblet, and Brown, with many others of our boys, 
 had fallen, and Long, and Lynch, and Brown were 
 wounded, in what seemed to my un military eye a 
 wild and vainglorious undertaking. So when tlie 
 buds were bursting, and the birds were celebrating 
 their annual return from Dixie, this spring, I wrote 
 to "my friend the Colonel," whom I had left stretch- 
 ed on a bed of fever in these pine woods of Virginia, 
 and reminded him of a campact made with me to 
 
 * First published in tlie Erie Daily Dispatch. 
 
FREDERICKSB URG. Qg . 
 
 visit some of these battle-fields, when the war was 
 over. 
 
 And together we have visited this fatal field, 
 gone over to Gliancellorsville, stretched ourselves 
 under the trees in the thickets of the Wilderness, 
 where nothing is heard at this season but the 
 melancholy notes of the whippoorwill, which Esteu 
 Cooke says are like the cries of unliappy beings im- 
 prisoned in these mournful solitudes. We have 
 communed with the thick-lying dead in the dark 
 thickets of that weird region — stood upon the spot 
 where Stonewall Jackson, the mighty man of the 
 South, received his death-wound — visited the fields 
 of Mechanicsville, Gaines' Mill, and Cold Harbor 
 — seen where McLane and Naghel died, where 
 Reed and Wittich and Hunter were wounded, and 
 Judson, Lyon and Brown fell bleeding into the 
 hands of the enemy. We have walked together 
 through the streets of Richmond and Petersburg — 
 seen something of the vast fortifications around 
 those cities — sat together under the trees in that 
 lovliest resting-place of the dead, Hollywood, ou 
 the banks of the James, and resolved to tell what 
 we have seen to others, who, like ourselves, are 
 interested in these things. 
 
 We took steamer early in the morning for Ac- 
 quia Creek. The woods were glorious in the ear- 
 ly verdure of spring, and the gay redbud, with 
 other flowering trees, dotted all the' hill-sides. 
 Arlington stood there bereft of all its beauties, and 
 
9^ VIRGINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 
 
 surrounded by a colony of negro cabins. I could 
 not but think that in the fuhieas of time it might 
 have become such a Mecca as Mount Vernon, 
 which stands a few miles below, grand and beauti- 
 ful as of old, unscathed by war, and with it divide 
 the love and pious pilgrimages of the lovers of 
 free government throughout the world. But Lee 
 chose the foolish part, and from him was taken 
 away even that which he had. We reached Acquia 
 Creek about the middle of the forenoon, took the 
 cars, which were new, and ran upon new iron, ties 
 and bridges, and in an hour we passed over that 
 peninsula between the Potomac and Rappahan- 
 nock, which was occupied so long by our armies 
 under Burnside and Hooker. This region still 
 looks like a desert. The woods and fences are all 
 gone, and a dense forest of second growth has ap- 
 peared instead. When we were here last, a hun- 
 dred thousand men, more or less, were encamped 
 between these rivers; to-day we saw two or three 
 black men, each plowing with a single mule and a 
 Watt plow. "We soon crossed the Eappahan- 
 nock and were in Fredericksburg. It is a little 
 singular that so many battles of the war should 
 have been fought in this county of Spottsylvania— 
 the two Fredericksburgs, Chancellorsville, the 
 Wilderness and the battle of Spottsylvania Court 
 House. 
 
 The county is twenty-three miles long and seven- 
 teen broad, was founded in 1720, and named from 
 
FREDERICKSB USG. 95 
 
 Alex. Spottswood, then Governor of Virginia. A 
 fort against the Indians was established witliiu 
 the bounds of this county as early as 1674. This 
 fort was at Gennania Ford, so called from a colo- 
 ny of Germans sent over by Queen Ann and locat- 
 ed here. The first furnaces located in our country 
 were in this region. I have seen an immense old 
 ruin of stone, ivy-covered to the top of the gables, 
 and the interior grown up with trees, upon the 
 banks of the river. It was used as a furnace, and 
 in it was made much of the material used in the 
 Revolution. Fredericksburg is at the head of tide 
 water, and vessels of one hundred and forty tons 
 can come up to the town. It was founded in law 
 in 1727, and named from Prince Frederick, the 
 father of the third George. Falmouth, directly 
 across the river, and just above, was founded at 
 the same time. Probably there never was a battle 
 fought giving non-combatants so good an oppor- 
 tunity for observation as did the first fight on this 
 ground. 
 
 Here is an idea of the field — at least that part of 
 it interesting to us by reason of the presence of 
 our own regiments. Move the Peninsula (at Erie) 
 forward to the public dock, and raise the elevation 
 of it until it is somewhat higher than Federal Hill. 
 It will then represent the Stafford Heights, occupied 
 by our array. The space between the pulilic dock 
 and the shore is the Rappahannock river. Bend the 
 range of hills bounded by Conrad Brown's, Ceme- 
 
96 VinaiNIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 
 
 tery Hill, Federal Hill, Capt. Wilkins's, and tte 
 high ground south of Beecher's orchard into a semi- 
 circle — Federal Hill remaining central. Crowd all 
 this high land with batteries, and on Federal Hill, 
 directly in Peach street, place the celebrated 
 Washington Battery of ISTew Orleans. Move that 
 stretch of highland, of which Nicholson's Hill is 
 the centre, north within one half mile of Federal 
 Hill, and make that range of hills a semi-circLe 
 parallel to the first. Crowd it with batteries. Safe 
 in the valley between these semi-circular ranges of 
 hills, is the rebel army. To the right of Nichol- 
 son's Hill, and facing toward the town, stands 
 Gen. Lee. He sees the entire field, and with his 
 glass may see Gen. Burnside, standing on the bal- 
 cony of the Phillips House, across the river, on the 
 Staitbrd Heights. 
 
 Just beneath the Washington Battery, and at 
 the foot of Federal Hill, there is a solid stone wall 
 of great thickness and breast high, facing the 
 town. The side toward the town was strengthened 
 with earth. This is the celebrated and fatal "stone 
 wall," mentioned by all historians of this battle, 
 and behind it were placed the two brigades of T. 
 R. R. Cobb and Kershaw, both of McLaw's division. 
 We will imagine the 145th regiment, which suffered 
 so severely in this battle, formed on Twelfth street — 
 the other regiments of the brigade upon Tenth and 
 Eleventh streets. From Ichabod Run (which typifies 
 a wide mill race or run), to the foot of Federal Hill, 
 
FBEDERIGKSBURO. 97 
 
 IS an open plain with perhaps a dozen houses scat- 
 tered here and there. The heavy gnns over the river 
 are playing over the heads of our men upon the 
 rebel position. As we move up Peach street we 
 meet men carrying the dead and wounded of 
 French's column to the rear. These men have 
 been killed before they reached the open plain. 
 When we pass the Morton House and reach Icha- 
 bod Run, a battery on the right opens upon us. It 
 was just at this point relatively, that Lieutenant 
 M. Brown was struck and received his death 
 wound. 
 
 We move out on the plain, first going to the 
 right, then bearing off to the left and spreading 
 out like a fan, until the formation of the line of 
 battle brings the 145th directly facing the Wash- 
 ington Battery, and that terrible stone wall, and 
 now in the clear open field, the batteries on the 
 right, on the left and in the centre play upon the 
 dense masses of French and Hancock's brigades as 
 they move forward on the double-quick. Longstreet 
 opposed us in this part of the field, a;id says in his 
 own report, "Our artillery being in position opened 
 fire as soon as the masses became dense enough to 
 warrant it. The fire was very destructive and de- 
 moralizing in its eftect, and frequently made gaps 
 in the enemy's ranks that could be seen at the dis- 
 tance of a mile." A rebel account says : "The 
 whole plain was swept by a direct and converging 
 fire from the numerous batteries on' the semi-circu- 
 
98 VIRGINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 
 
 lar crest above; and behind this lay the heavy 
 Confederate reserve, uiineeded, as it proved, for a 
 few men were enough to do the bloody work." Un- 
 der orders, nothing was left but to assail this 
 position ; so French first was thrown forward 
 from the rise of ground. No sooner had this Di- 
 vision burst out on the plain than from the bat- 
 teries above came a fearful fire, cross-showers of 
 shot and shell, opening great gaps in their ranks ; 
 but closing up, the ever thining lines pressed 
 on, until, met by volleys of musketry at short 
 range from the stone wall, they fell back with a 
 loss of nearlj' one half their number, and amid the 
 shouts and yells of the Confederates. 
 
 Close behind comes Hancock— over the bodies 
 of French's men they go, the wild battle light 
 in their eyes — down go dozens of our regiment. 
 Clay's commanding form disappears, young Eib- 
 let falls, a ball strikes Col. Brown but still he 
 presses on; gallant Lynch goes down, another 
 miuie strikes the Colonel passing through the 
 body, but he bears up and moves toward the in- 
 fernal fire ; he takes a few steps, his mouth fills 
 with blood, a mist gathers before his eyes, he 
 brushes at his face to clear his vision, totters — he 
 is down. "Of the five thousand men Hancock led 
 into action, more than two thousand fell in the 
 charge, and it was found that the bravest of them 
 had thrown up their hands and lay dead within 
 five and twenty paces of the stone wall." 
 
FBEDERIGESBURa. gg 
 
 My friend the Colonel, who had fought over this 
 ground, pointed out all the positions, went over 
 the details of the battle on this part of the field in 
 a thrilling and impressive manner; and out there 
 we met a man who had fought against us at this 
 point and who corroborated all that the Colonel had 
 said of the bravery of our men in this unequal and 
 hopeless contest. And right here let me say that 
 in the neighborhood of all these battlefields we 
 met those who had fought against us, and their ac- 
 counts of many battles coincided in an astonishing 
 manner with the descriptions by our own men. 
 
 In that house, said the Colonel, we slept the night 
 before the battle; right here Col. Brown was sup- 
 ported, as he tottered along in front of the old 83d, 
 who were just awaiting the insane order to go 
 into that pathway of death. Here Col. Vincent 
 espied his wounded friend, and running forward 
 gave him — as he supposed — the last grasp of the 
 hand permitted on earth ; but how mysterious are 
 the ways of Grod ! The one reported mortally 
 wounded lives to-day;* the other died on the 
 field of battle. Here we crossed the race ; here we 
 executed the order "on right by file into line ;" 
 right there is the brick-yard ; now we come to the 
 large ice house, the pit of which Maj. Von Borcke, 
 in his account of the battle published in Black- 
 wood, says "was filled with dead Yankees." 
 
 * Col. Brown died in tlie winter of 1880. He had never 
 ftilly recovered from his terrible wound at Fredericksburg. 
 
100 VIRQTNIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 
 
 We reached the line of our farthest advance, 
 plainly discerned by the long trench once filled 
 with the dead just where they had fallen, but now 
 removed to the National Cemetery, ahead of us on 
 the heights. We are on Marye's Hill ; all over the 
 house and grounds are marks of shot and shell. 
 We reach the crest of Marye's Heights, occupied 
 by the Washington Artillery under Col. Walton. 
 What a position ! No marvel the Confederates had 
 it all their own way. It was mere target practice 
 for them. We entered the National Cemetery, hal- 
 lowed as the resting place of thousands upon thou- 
 sands of our men, collected from all the battle- 
 fields and hospital grounds of this region. 
 
 Two companies of infantry are stationed here, 
 and details of men were even burying the collected 
 dead. The flag they had died for waved over 
 them, and the horrible looking buzzards were 
 slowly and lazily circling in the air. 
 
 We raised the lids of some of the boxes and saw 
 the skull, the bones, some tattered blue rags, 
 socks, a mat of hair — nothing more. Great care is 
 taken in collecting these remains to preserve all 
 the marks upon the boards at the heads of the 
 fallen ones — rudely cut are they with knives, 
 scored upon tin, or marked with pencil, and where 
 but a portion of the name is found, it is religiously 
 preserved and painted upon the neat white boards 
 at the head. Side by side the thousands lay, not 
 by States as at Gettysburg, but just as found and 
 
FBEDERICKSBURO. 10 1 
 
 brought from the field. A mound was upon each 
 grave, made in a mould of a peculiar clay, the 
 color of Milwaukee brick and very hard and dur- 
 able, and then neatly sodded over all. We found 
 the men who had taken the bodies from the pit of 
 the ice house, and from the trenches near the 
 ground occupied by the 145th, and diligent in- 
 quiry could elicit no tidings of the bodies of Rib- 
 let or Clay. They constitute units of that vast 
 number marked simply, "U. S. Soldier unknown." 
 
 Down through the old town we passed again 
 amid the wildnerness of white lilacs, the twitterina; 
 of the martins, the sweet odor of blossom-laden 
 trees. Many of the houses, in their outward ap- 
 pearance, much resembled the "Old Baird House" 
 on Fifth street. We went to our hotel for dinner. 
 Here, ^'' en passant," we ate the best bread we ever 
 remember to have seen, and drank as good water 
 as there is in the world. 
 
 After dinner, in company with a young man of 
 the hotel, and a mean Yankee driver from "York 
 State", we started up the river to the ferry. We 
 drove upon the flat to cross the Kappahannock, 
 when a fine looking fellow on horseback galloped 
 down the road and on to the boat — he was a study. 
 Throwing his leg over he slid gracefully from his 
 horse and stood with his arm about the neck of the 
 animal. He was clad in a suit of Confederate gray, 
 minus the buttons — bowed pleasantly to an acquain- 
 tance, and began talking of fox hunting over in 
 
102 rmOINIA BATTLE-FIELDS, 
 
 Stafford county. He had a grand face and figure 
 and when our boat grated on the gravelly beach on 
 the hither side of the river, among the clear quartz 
 pebbles (a feature of all this region), he mounted 
 his horse with such ease, — and galloped away. I 
 could not control my eyes from following him in 
 admiration. They said he was a Major in the Con- 
 federate cavalry. 
 
 Out through the familiar streets of old Falmouth 
 we rode. In front of a corner grocery I saw an 
 old colored man, grey-haired, with a long army 
 overcoat reaching to his heels, a cob pipe in his 
 mouth. I declare to you I saw him in that spot 
 with that dress and pipe, his arm raised in gesture, 
 in the winter of '62. At the top of the hill, a mile 
 back, the Colonel and I got out and started alone 
 for the old camp ground of the 145th. But one 
 solitary pine remained upon the field, and that 
 ouce smooth camp-ground was covered with rank 
 second growth from four to twelve feet high. The 
 ruins of the old quarters were still visible. Here 
 were the Colonel's quarters, the Adjutant's, Major 
 Keynolds's, and I almost fancied I could see Joe 
 Descryver sitting there carving his pipe of laurel 
 root. 
 
 On this ground I had been awakened in the 
 morning by the noises of camp — the clamor and 
 neighing of horses and mules as they went in vast 
 droves to the river for water; then reveille brakes 
 out in far distant camps over the hills, in fife and 
 
FEEDERIGKSBUBG. lOS 
 
 drum, and before the echo dies it is repeated from 
 other camps with bugles, and a full band clangs 
 out from French's headquarters near us, awaken- 
 ing all to the routine of the day. The heavy pick- 
 et-guard were passing gaily over the hills to the 
 river, for, notwithstanding the deep depression of 
 the army at this time, "joy always came with 
 the morning". Now all was as still as the grave. 
 We lit our pipes, and sitting down amid the ruins 
 of the Colonel's old quarters, dreamed over again 
 the days of the dreary winter of '62 and '63. 
 
 II. 
 
 Fredericksburg. 
 
 ' Leaving the old camp of the 145th Kegiment, we 
 descended the hill and stopped at the well-sweep 
 of the old Fitzhugh place for a drink of water. 
 Actual improvements were going on about the 
 house and grounds. The owner was plowing in 
 an adjacent field with two horses, and his sons 
 were at work with him. The old plantation house 
 and its appurtenances had escaped the ravages of 
 the war, the place having been occcupied by Gen. 
 Couch as his head-quarters. A New York man 
 lived there — had bought the place, containing 376 
 acres, for $5,000. We re-crossed the river; just 
 above the crossing the river bed is wild and rocky 
 in the extreme. The water runs clear and rapid. 
 
10^. VIBQINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 
 
 and present8 all the characteristics of a New Eng- 
 land stream. This is the Falls of the Eappahan- 
 nock; there is a grand water-power here. All the 
 use I saw made of it was to turn the wheel of one 
 CY&zy old grist-mill. What a place for a colony of 
 northern workers — unsurpassed water-power, fine 
 sandy loam soil on the Spottsylvania side — river 
 and ocean communication — seventy miles to Wash- 
 ington, sixty to Richmond by rail ; splendid climate, 
 oysters and fish of all kinds in abundance; an old 
 settled country, and land within a circuit of ten 
 miles selling for from four to twenty-five dollars 
 an acre. We drove through the town, — over a door 
 we read " Male charity school, established in 1795," 
 and the name of a newspaper established the same 
 year. In that little "Inn" with swinging sign 
 Fitzhugh Lee boards; on the ".commons" in the 
 outskirts three difi^ereut games of base ball are go- 
 ing on, the crowd stands looking on. That's what 
 is the matter here — there is so much " commons"^ 
 so many " looking on." You hear no noise of 
 hammers, no sound of saws tearing through the 
 wood at the falls of this river nor in the town, 
 only the low, dreary hum coming from the old 
 grist-mill — nothing more. Passing a field, we saw 
 some contrabands planting corn. Our young Vir- 
 ginia friend, musing abstractedly, gives involuntary 
 utterance to the thought within, and says, " My 
 God ! I never could drop corn." I cannot on 
 paper express to you the depth of meaning of his 
 
FREBERICKSB UR O. 105 
 
 expression. No! — he probably never will "drop 
 corn," but yonng men from the free North, that 
 he despises, will soon be down here dropping corn 
 to some purpose. 
 
 There are Southern men, and many of them, who 
 accept the situation, and are at work might and 
 main making the most of it, but the majority of 
 them that I saw sit idly, and in sullen silence; and 
 we shall never reach them but by taxing the land 
 BO heavily that they will be forced to sell, and give 
 willing men the chance to cultivate tViis fair heri- 
 tage. Do this, and keep the military there long 
 enough to put the blacks firmly on their feet, and 
 the thing is accomplished. Plant a good strong 
 colony of Pennsylvanians (they don't hate them as 
 intensely as they do New York and New England 
 people) in this country, numerous enough to make 
 a society of their own ; show these people that 
 there is a way of confining cattle within a certain 
 range other than guarding them with a dozen 
 negroes ; make them to know the dift'erence be- 
 tween the work done by a team of Cunestoga 
 horses with a subsoil plow, and that of a negro 
 with a single mule and a Watt plow, (which is like 
 our cultivator or shovel plow in execution,) plod- 
 ding lazily over the earth, just skimming the sur- 
 face of it ; hammer into them the superiority of 
 a reaper and mower over the sickle and the scythe, 
 and you will do them more good, and quicker, than 
 forty cold-blooded, steel-polished Sumners will, if 
 
106 VIRGINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 
 
 they should continue to make speeches at them, 
 from now until St. Tibb's Eve. 
 
 But the leaven is working. Witness the man 
 on the Fitzhugh place, and others I might name. 
 We saw a span of fine horses, hitched to a N'ewark 
 wagon, rattling through Falmouth. The driver 
 looked alive, and acted as though he had some- 
 thing to do. Our driver nodded to him ; we asked 
 who he was: "He's a New Hampshire soldier 
 that stopped here and bought a place when the 
 war was over, and he's doing right smart." 
 
 We drove to the tomb of Mary, the mother of 
 Washington. It stands there still unfinished^ 
 scarred all over with rainie balls (for the battle 
 raged fearfully here) and mutilated by vandal relic 
 seekers. Soldiers of both armies have written 
 their names, with the numbers of their regiments, 
 all over its fiice. Mary Ball Washington died in 
 1789, aged 85. She lived and died in Fredericks- 
 burg. The house still stands in good condition. 
 The Dobbins House on State street would be like 
 it if it were a tliii'd larger, and painted white. 
 
 The ledge of rocks near there on the river was 
 her favorite resort for meditation and devotion, 
 and presents just as wild an appearance to-day as 
 when she siit in their solitude. Col. Fielding Lew- 
 is married Elizabeth, a sister of Washington, and 
 resided on this farm, and during the revolution he 
 superintended the old foundry and arsenal mention- 
 ed in my firstletter. This establishment furnished 
 
FREDERICKSBURQ. 107 
 
 the appropriate outfit for Braddock's army in the 
 old war. Ficldiiiof Lewis had two sons, George 
 and Robert, and they had position, one as captain 
 of \yashington's life guard, and the other his pri- 
 vate secretary. Gen. Hugh Mercer, of revolution- 
 ary fame, lived in Eredricksbnrg. Ho fell at 
 Princeton, and is buried in Christ church, Phila- 
 delphia. Lewis Littlepage is buried, here. His 
 uncle Benj. Lewis induced Mr. Jay, our Minister 
 at Madrid, to patronize him, and receive him into 
 bis family. "He volunteered in the expedition 
 against Minorca under the Duke de Crillon in 1871, 
 and afterwards accompanied the Count ISTassau to 
 the seige of Gibraltar, and thence to Warsaw. He 
 was honored for many years with the esteem and 
 confidence of the unfortunate Stanislaus Augustus, 
 King of Poland, and was made hy him ambassador 
 to Russia. When he was in New York, in 1785, 
 Mr. Jay arrested him for a debt of $1,000 for mon- 
 ey lent years before. Littlepage took the Southern 
 plan and challenged Jaj'. In the published corres- 
 pondence Jay complained not only of the pecun- 
 iar}' imposition, but also of other abuse, as he ex- 
 presses himself, from the young man with my mon- 
 ey in his pocket, and my meat still sticking in his 
 teeth." So says Alden's Collections. 
 
 Dismissing our driver, we walked far down the 
 river to the Massaponnax, and viewed the ground 
 of Franklin's encounter, where Meade of our arnn', 
 then in a subordinate position, made a splendid 
 
108 VIRQINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 
 
 fight. He scattered Jackson's first line like chafl:"— 
 fought the second splendidly — but, the old story, 
 he was not supported, waited long and anxiously, 
 and then fell back with heavy loss. Here Major 
 Pelham, the young Alabaraian rebel, immortalized 
 himself with his single gun, and Lee, so chary of 
 praise, called him "the gallant Pelham," the only 
 ofiicer, I have been told, below the rank of Major 
 General, specially recognized by Lee in his dis- 
 patches of this battle. Back through the town 
 to the hotel. In the bookstore window was 
 the placard of Gilmore Simms' Southern [)oems 
 — pictures of Jackson, Lee and Davis — secession 
 songs arranged for the piano, with appropriate illus- 
 trations, a fine engraving of the burial of a young 
 Confederate officer, who fell during the campaiga 
 in Maiyland, wherein a lady appears reading the 
 burial service at the head of the grave; back to the 
 hotel, where we saw one of the landlords pay- 
 ing a colored man some money. As he counted 
 over the greenbacks he came to a grayback; you 
 ought to have seen the colored man shake his head 
 and drop that bill ; "dat trash is done gone now." 
 The Colonel proposed to revive his recollections 
 of camp life, by going out to Chancellorsville that 
 afternoon and spending the night on a bed of 
 boughs beneath the pines in the wilderness, and 
 finding our driver to make arrangements for the 
 hire of his conveyance, the latter gravely inquired, 
 as he scratched his head, if we had sufficient stamj>s 
 
FREDERICKSBURa. 109 
 
 to pay for the horse, in case we could not find him 
 in the morning. We did not tliiuk we had enough 
 for such an emergency. He said horses were scarce 
 in that region, and the inhabitants not overly par- 
 ticular. We concluded to defer visiting Chan- 
 cellorsville until the next day. We passed an 
 agreeable evening at the hotel talking with some 
 Fredericksburg people who had fought against us. 
 My friend the Colonel was taken for a rebel officer 
 by a gentleman who had been on Gen. Lee's staff. 
 He said he was a native Virginian, but was resid- 
 ing in Georgia when the war commenced. He 
 supposed it was "a ninety day affair", and being 
 desirous of seeing his friends in Virginia, joined a 
 Georgia regiment as Surgeon, and with an immense 
 amount of baggage, and a fine outfit, including a 
 negro servant, he started for the front. "Well," 
 said he, "the afiair ended with me at Appomattox 
 Court House, and," with a laugh, "quite a while 
 before the war ended, I found that extra baggage 
 and a servant were very cumbersome, and I dis- 
 pensed with mine." 
 
 From this class of men everywhere in Virginia 
 we received the most courteous treatment, and 
 talked very freely with them of the great battles in 
 these regions. They spoke particularly of the 
 splendid manner in which our men marched out of 
 the town of Fredericksburg upon that terrible 
 plain, amid that red harvest of death. From their 
 elevated and secure position they could look down 
 
no riRGINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 
 
 upon us, and as the red flames leaped like light- 
 ninff from the black mouths of the cannon of the 
 
 O 
 
 Washington Artillery, Alexander's reserve artil- 
 lery, and the division batteries of Anderson, Ran- 
 som and McLaws, all around that vast semi-circle, 
 and everywhere, tore huge pieces from our solid 
 columns, exposing frightful gaps to vievr, — like 
 magic the ranks closed up again and moved on. 
 
 But the noble men of the 145th that ran the 
 gauntlet of that fire of hell, and had passed the 
 point where the guns above them were ineffective, 
 because they could not be sufficiently depressed, — 
 with the light of victory in their eyes, and immor- 
 tal glory and honor upon their brows, raised their 
 powder grimed faces in exultation to the heights, 
 clenched more firmly their muskets, and with a 
 wild cheer started for the crest; but the cup was 
 dashed from their lips, when that awful volley of 
 musketry, at close range from the stone-wall, 
 proved more than their ranks of weary survivors 
 could endure, and down they went upon their faces 
 in the dust. Lee looked from his eyrie on all this 
 panorama, to the left, and to the right, and said 
 to an officer, "Itis well this is so terrible — we would 
 grow too fond of it!" A. high board fence running 
 at right angles to the stone-wall, had divided the 
 145th when in line of battle; companies B, K, C, 
 and G, with Lieut. Col. McCreary, being on the 
 left. The regiment was ordered to retire, but, in 
 the roar of battle, this part of it failed to receive 
 
FREDERICKSBUMQ. lU 
 
 the order ; but toward evening they reached the 
 city. The regiment had gone into the fight with 
 five hundred and thirty-one oflacets and men, and 
 came out with three hundred and seven. Col. 
 Brown and Major Lynch lay wounded upon the 
 field. Lieut. Col. McCreary took a musket and 
 fought ^with the left of the regiment. He and 
 Col. Von Schaick, of the 7th New York, were the 
 only field officers in the entire Brigade not killed 
 or woundfed. 
 
 When Col. Brown became conscious, he soon 
 discovered that the day was lost, and weighing the 
 chances, he concluded that transportation to Rich- 
 mond in his condition would be certain death, 
 while an attempt to reach the town then, as the 
 rebels swept the plain, would be equally haz- 
 ardous ; but desiring that his body might be in 
 the hands of his friends, certain as he was at the 
 time that Lis wouuds were mortal, he met some 
 one who supported him in walking, and while 
 nearina; the town he met the " Old 83rd" just wait- 
 ing for the order to go in. The blood from his 
 wounds had streamed to his feet, discoloring all 
 his uniform; the pallor of death was on his face; 
 and in this condition h« tottered down the line of 
 his old regiment; and when became in front of 
 the company he had commanded on the Peninsu- 
 la, the caps came from every head, and with bated 
 breath and 'utter silence they looked, as they sup- 
 posed, their last look at their old captain. Col. 
 
112 VIROINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 
 
 Brown was found in the cit}', in the evening, and 
 Lieut. Col. McCreary detailed men who carried 
 him across the river to the Phillips House, Gen. 
 Burnside'a head-quarters. 
 
 Humphrey's division, after a heavy but ineffect- 
 ual cannonade upon the stone-wall, was now order- 
 ed in. They went with a rush, getting nearly up 
 to the point of Hancock's advance, where they fell 
 back leaving seventeen hundred behind of the four 
 thousand that had gone in. Burnside now form- 
 ed his old corps, the 9th, and determined to lead 
 it in person to the assault, but Sumner's eloquent 
 pleadings saved him from the additional disaster. 
 
 The 83rd were spectators of this wholesale slaugh- 
 ter from the other side of the river, and, with the 
 certainty of defeat before thera, they were at three 
 or four o'clock in the afternoon ordered across the 
 river. Hooker and the other corps commander 
 had advised against a further trial, but Burnside, 
 who had ridden down to the river bank, had stub- 
 bornly said "That crest must be carried to night." 
 Over went the veterans of the 83rd — across the 
 pontoons — out through the streets of the town, 
 quite to the left, to the line of the 145th. It would 
 be like moving out Holland street in the plan sketch- 
 ed in our iirst letter. The houses at this point af- 
 forded some protection, and if I rightly remember, 
 the embankment of the rail-road to Richmond was 
 of benefit to them, and darkness was beginning to 
 settle down upon the field; a happy circumstance 
 
FREDERICKSBURa. US 
 
 for them as the batteries were now playing upon 
 them. 
 
 Breaking ranks to sweep around the houses and 
 scale the fences, they reached the open plain, and 
 the fragmentary parts coming together again like 
 a perfect machine, they moved rapidly to the front 
 with heroic Vincent at their head, where they drop- 
 ped upon their faces to avoid the enemy's fire. 
 But the blessed night had come, and so had res- 
 pite from the enemy's fire. 
 
 Here they lay all that night with the wails and 
 cries of mortal men in their agony, all around them. 
 But all over the field, on that dark December night, 
 relief parties were creeping, without light, of course, 
 and groping in the darkness, calling in a low tone 
 of voice on "John," or "Thomas," or " William," 
 whom they knew not to count as living or dead. 
 There was a little group there from the 145th, and 
 as they passed their hands over the cold faces and 
 stiff forms of all that came in their way in their 
 search for the lost ones, and pressed their /aces 
 down so that their eyes peered into the dumb faces 
 of the dead, doubts would come over them, and a 
 match would be lighted, and a quick keen look 
 would reveal a face dear to some one but not to 
 the seeker; then the sharp "ping" of a minie about 
 the ears would come as a warning that the sleep- 
 less eye of the picket was upon them. The 83rd 
 remained here until the evening of the next day, 
 having made in the night a partial cover, and se- 
 
lU VIRQINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 
 
 cured the atlvantnge of a depression of ground 
 near them. After remaining a few hours in town 
 they were ordered back again. Before morning, 
 however, with great stealtli, they were witlidrawn, 
 and to tiieir astonishment found tiiat they covered 
 the rear of tlie retreating army across tlie Riippa- 
 hannock. Tlie 83rd lost about forty in killed and 
 wounded; among tlicm was Ilaldeman, of Harbor- 
 creek, true and brave, a sergeant in Capt. Austin's 
 comp.my. The 111th regiment were not engaged 
 in this battle, being absent in the up-country with 
 Gen. 8igcl. 
 
 It is generall}' conceded that Burnside was in- 
 com[ieteiit as the leailer of a great army. The re- 
 port of the Congressional inquisition and most that 
 has been written on our side show this fact. The 
 accounts of the enemy are all one thing: "We seta 
 trap, and Burnside made haste ^o walk straight in- 
 to it, with his eyes wide open, and it closed upon 
 him." 
 
 III. 
 
 Chancellorsville- 
 
 When Hooker toolc command of the Army of 
 the I'otomac, it was in a very demoralized condi- 
 tion. The men of the army knew their power, 
 .andknew.that if rightly directed it would be effect- 
 
CnANCELLORSVILLE. 115 
 
 ual to the end of suppressing the rebellion. They 
 had now had experiences with different comman- 
 ders, and began to draw comparisons, and it is un- 
 deniably true that their preferences were for the 
 man who formed and raouhled the army — General 
 McCiellan. But they gave up their first love and 
 took kindly to Hooker. He had made a fine com- 
 mander in a subordinate position. lie had what 
 Burnside entirely hicked — confidence in himself. 
 Burnside was modest, and distrustful of his own 
 powers. Hooker was not afflicted in that way. 
 He grappled with a will with the tasic of remodel- 
 ing the army. He instituted tlie corps badges — 
 borrowing the idea from Phil. Kearney — did away 
 with tlie flapdoodle of grand divisions, gave gener- 
 ous furloughs for merit, stimulated activity, put 
 new life in the cavalry by giving it a distinct organ- 
 ization, did it a world of good by exclaiming indig- 
 nantly in council to its leaders, "Show me a dead 
 cavalryman. I have not seen one during the war." 
 He criticised with terrible severity the record of 
 all his predecessors, and heaven knows lie was n't 
 wrong there. He raised and restored the elan of 
 the army, and when ready to move, in his " pro- 
 bulgous" style, he announced to the country that 
 " he led the finest army on the planet." He reviv- 
 ed the drooping spirit of the nation, and, from the 
 President down, nearly all thouglit the deliverer 
 had come. But there were men in the army that 
 knew the purity of gold from the glitter of brass, 
 
116 VIRQINIA BATTLE-FIELDS, 
 
 and believed not in Hooker. His only great battle 
 as a cliief commander was Chancellorsville; and 
 for this wonderful field of conflict the Colonel and 
 I started upon a glorious spring morning. 
 
 It was precisely the time of year — to a day — that 
 Hooker was marching to this place ; and the appear- 
 ance of the country, the degree of advancement of 
 the vegetation, were strangely suggestive, my friend 
 said, of the time and circumstances of the move- 
 ment of our army. The inn-keeper had given us an 
 early breakfast of Virginia bacon and elegant corn 
 bread, and passing the points vv'here Col. Johns, of 
 the 7th Massachusetts (a native and citizen of 
 Erie), was wounded as he led his brigade, nnder 
 Sedgwick, and carried the stone-wall and Mary's 
 Heights, and where the Southern Gen. Cobb was 
 killed in the first fight, we reach the high ground 
 and stop a moment for the beautiful view of the 
 town, tlie Staftbrd hills, and the rolling land. 
 
 Away down the lovely valley is St. Julian, the 
 old Brooke homestead, where Washington and 
 Randolph, Jefterson and others of the great men of 
 Virginia, always stopped in passing up and dowu 
 the river region. The Baylors, the Bernards, and 
 the Taylors of olden time lived in this region. 
 Oh ! it is full of interest. Down there is Moss 
 Neck, the estate of the Corbins. Here was Gen- 
 eral Jackson's head-quarters after the battle of 
 Fredericksburg and during the winter. A portion 
 of the country between the river and Chancellors- 
 
CnANCELLORSVILLE. 117 
 
 ville is finely cultivated, with some rather superior 
 plantation houses, all placed a third of a niile back 
 from the road. Temporary fences had been made 
 along the higliway and over portions of tlie farms. 
 They consisted of cedar stakes driven into the 
 earth rather close to each other, and then inter- 
 laced with boughs of the cedar and the pine. The 
 leaves exposed to the sun soon became a russet 
 color, and presented an irregular and scraggy ap- 
 pearance. But the magnificent crops of wheat 
 vvhicli they protected made up a background of 
 great beauty and promise. This ground had been 
 occupied the entire winter and spring jirevious to 
 the battle of Chancellorsville, by tlie Southern 
 army, and the whole surface of the country was 
 cut up and seamed over by the countless wagon 
 roads made in bringing supplies to the'army. The 
 forest and shade trees were entirely destroyed and 
 the fences consumed ; in fact, everything but the 
 dwellings seemed to fare just as badly in the liauds 
 of the confederate army, as the Stafford region did 
 from ours. 
 
 An hour's ride brought us to Salem Church, and 
 the entrenchments and marks of shot and shell 
 showed us Sedgwick's extreme point of advance. 
 A little farther and to the left is Tabernacle 
 Church. These churches, including the Wilder- 
 ness church west of Cliancellorsville, are scarcely 
 more pretentious than the old yellow meeting 
 house that long ago stood upon Sassafras street. 
 
118 VIIiOINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 
 
 Near this point the Oran,<re phink road joins the 
 old turnpike on whicli we are traveling, and both, 
 for a short distance, occupy the same roiid bed; 
 then the plank road breaks away to the left, and 
 blends with our road again at Chancellorsville. 
 We talked freely with tlie people all along the 
 road, and found the white ones, of course, all rebel 
 in feeling. "How d'ye do aunty?" — to two black 
 ones — "you's free now, aint you ?" "Day say I is." 
 " How d'ye like it ? " "Right well." "Was you 
 here wiien they were fighting?" "Nus sir; we 
 'longed to Dr. Smith, lived 'way yonder; when the 
 waw was dun gone, moved up yer. 'Course you 
 know Dr. Smith?" "Howfarisit to Chancellor's?" 
 "Dun know." Contiuuing our ride, with such oc- 
 casional interruptions as just given, we proceeded 
 for some distance, when the' Colonel checked his 
 horse, and looking carefully about him, thought he 
 recognized the locality. "We certainly came to 
 the top of this hill — where we ought to have stayed 
 — and then double-quicked back again, and, yes, I 
 do believe that at the foot of this bill you will find 
 our advanced works where I was captured." 
 Driving down the hill I almost recognized the lo- 
 cality from my friend's frequent descriptions of it. 
 The earthworks were still quite complete, although 
 somewhat washed by rain. They lay directly 
 across the road, and extended on either side into 
 the deep woods. Immediately in front of them 
 the heavy timber had been cut, but in the wonder- 
 
CnANCELLOItSriLLE. 119 
 
 ful luxuriance of the soil, the second growth had 
 sprung up everywhere, vaiying in height from four 
 to twelve feet. Remains of uniforms, cartridge 
 boxes, canteens, haversacks and some human 
 bones lay in the trenches. Dead branches were 
 hanging on all the.trees, and all the bodies of them 
 were scarred with shot and shell. 
 
 Down we sat on tlie earth-works and my friend 
 detailed all the events of the day at this point. 
 In front of this advanced line and scattered all 
 through the woods we found the graves of many 
 of the enemy's dead marked with head and foot 
 stakes, the pencil tracings obliterated and a tangle 
 of second growth already covering them. I cut a 
 hickory walking stick that had grown right out of 
 the breast of some brave fellow of Mc Law's or 
 Anderson's commands. In the condensed sketch 
 of the battle hereafter given we will speak of the 
 fighting at this picket line, where the 145th regi- 
 ment avenged a portion of their losses at Fred- 
 ericksburg. We now passed through Hooker's in- 
 terminable earthworks, and emerging from the 
 woods came to the open and elevated ground in the 
 centre of which were the ruins of Chancellorsville 
 House. There was no village here, nothing but this 
 one house. Imagine the Hamot House on the bank 
 of the lake to be nearly twice the size that it is, 
 and standing in a large, open plain, devoid of roof, 
 windoXvs or doors, and the marks of confltigration 
 discoloring the leaden tint of the building, and 
 
mo vinaiNiA battle-fields. 
 
 you have Clmncellorsville House. Stniidingon the 
 massive and broken stoue steps in front, this was 
 what met the eye : 
 
 An open plain all about the house in every di- 
 rection, then a dense, dark mass of jagged and 
 stunted pines and scrub oaks as close together as it 
 is possible for them to grow, then the narrow roads 
 like great ash-colored serpents winding through 
 the black forest. We faced a road leading down 
 to Catharine Furnace, which was nearly two miles 
 in front, and to the right. To tlie left were the old 
 Turii[iike and the Orange plank road, both leading 
 to Fredericksburg; to the right, and near Melzi 
 Chancellor's (which is about a mile west,) these 
 roads again separate and pass westward. Making 
 a full about face, and passing to the rear of Chan- 
 cellorsville Plouse you face a road leading directly 
 to United States Ford, and to your left is a road 
 leading to Ely's Ford — both on the Rnpidan. 
 Earth-works in proper form and of vast extent sur- 
 rounded the open place, and we fonnd them far 
 out in the Wilderness, where from the density of 
 the thickets, men must have twisted and crawled 
 like snakes to their positions at the defences. I 
 picked up a^ round musket ball as I stepped upon 
 the stone porch in front of the house. It is said 
 Jackson's men fired these round balls with the ad- 
 dition of three buck-shot to a charge. 
 
 Broken crockery, slate from the roof, canteens, 
 and tattered uniforms of blue, gray and butternut 
 
CnANCELLOIiSriLLE. 121 
 
 were scattered arouncl; and rank second growth 
 choked up portions of the space within the walls. 
 A flock of j-ellow birds twittered in these bnslies ; 
 other than that there was no sign of life in or 
 about Cliancellorsville. We continued our drive 
 to the west along the old Turnpike, and after rid- 
 ing about a mile stopped in front of Melzi Chan- 
 cellor's, a rambling old Virginia farm house with 
 . the chimneys outside of the buildings. Entering 
 this house, which will be mentioned in history for 
 all time to come, Mrs. Chancellor bade us be seated. 
 We made known the object of our errand and 
 asked for her husband. lie was absent preach- 
 ing that day at the "Yellow Church," and she ex- 
 pressed a regret at his absence, assuring us tluit he 
 would take pleasure in showing us over this his- 
 toric ground. The partitions of the apartment 
 in which we were seated were of boards, lime- 
 washed, and the ashen floor was a model of clean- 
 liness. A single strip of carpet was spread on 
 the hearth before the broad fire-place, above which 
 were suspended a large and elegant photograph of 
 Gen. Lee, and engraved porti'aits of Stonewall 
 Jackson and Jeff. Davis. This house was the 
 head-quarters of General Howard, temporarily in 
 command of the unfortunate 11th corps. Mrs. 
 Chancellor spoke well of General Howard's kind- 
 ness and courtesy, described the disastrous and 
 disgraceful rout of the 11th corps as they stream- 
 ed past her house, and the rush and wild yells of 
 
122 VIRGINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 
 
 Jackson's men in pursuit. She mentioned Lee, 
 Jackson iuiLl Miij. Von Borcke as having been at her 
 house; gave a vivid description of the appalling 
 artillery lire, right down this road where Jackson 
 was wounded ; gave all the details and minutiae of 
 that altiiir, just about as Esten Cooke and Dabney 
 have given them. "After the battle" said slie, "I 
 went to Mrs. Chandler's, at Guineas Station ; she is 
 my sister. Gen. Jackson was taken there, and 
 died at my sister's." We were much pleased with 
 the lady-like bearing and courtesy of Mrs. Chan- 
 cellor. . 
 
 The 3'oung ladies of the honse had vanished up- 
 on our approach, but we found them on the porch 
 in front of the house when we took our leave, and 
 getting tlie localities anew from Mrs. C. of the 
 ground directly in sight, we bade her good bye, 
 and stopping a moment to look at the Wilderness 
 Churcii across the road and further west, we pass- 
 ed back to the spot where Jackson was wounded. 
 
 Walking into the woods at the point designated 
 by Mrs. C, we noted the terrible efteet of the 
 storm of artillery directed by Pleasanton. The 
 ground was thickly spread with violets of a most 
 beautiful blue, where this great man of the South 
 had fallen. We now moved southward, toward 
 Catharine Furnace, noting as we drove to and fro 
 the wonders of the Wilderness. This region, 
 which we have tried to describe to yow, was the 
 scene of the principal fighting. Hooker made a 
 
CHANCELLORSriLLE. 123 
 
 great mistake in sending away his ten thousand 
 cavah-y to operate in Lee's rear and cut off liis re- 
 treat to Riciimond. Their work was of small mo- 
 ment, and all the damage done was repaired in 
 two daj's after its infliction. But the country was 
 not slow to recognize the brillianc}' of Hooker's 
 initiatory movement in the battle of Chancellors- 
 ville. He was well over before discovery, and his 
 admirable plan of detour, and crossing high up the 
 river, and uncovering the lower fords by rapid 
 marching down the stream, on the enemy's side, 
 giving undisputed crossings for the different corps, 
 puzzled Stuart, who hung upon his flank, getting 
 in whenever he could to feel Hooker's strength 
 and the character of his movement. 
 
 Meanwhile Sedgwick's demonstration at the 
 lower fords, with the 1st, 3rd, and 6th corps, de- 
 tained Lee and Jackson at and near Fredericks- 
 burg so long that before they were scarcely aware 
 of it Hooker was upon their flank and rear. Sedg- 
 wick had grandly massed the flank movements. Lee 
 was effectually misled by Sedgwick's movements. 
 
 Mr. Mc Dougall, an English writer of repute, 
 published after the battle this account : "* * * * 
 The four divisions of Sedgewick and Reynolds 
 remained on the north bank, and an ingenious 
 ruse was practised to deceive the enemy into the 
 belief that the greater part of the JSTorthern army 
 was there massed with the intention of cross- 
 ing. It is to be noted that, from the coufigura- 
 
nj^ VIROTNIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 
 
 tion of the jsji-ouik], the enemy could not see the 
 bi'iclgoa, neither could they see the four divisions 
 on the north bank, which were behind the fringe of 
 hills aforesaid. Those troops were then put in mo- 
 tion, and, mounting the ridge, which, sloping both 
 ways, served as a screen, marched along the top 
 in full view of the confederates, and then dip- 
 ped down out of sight towards the bridges. Instead 
 of crossing tliese, however, they turned back 
 through a gully, round through the rear of the ridge, 
 round again on the top, and again disappeared from 
 sight to play the same game — ^^just the same ev- 
 olution as is practised by the 'brave army' on the 
 stage of a tlieatre and with the same intent 
 of deceiving the spectators as to their numbers. 
 The like stage effect was practised b}' the ar- 
 tillery' and wagon trains until the confederates 
 had seen defile before them a ibrce which they 
 might well conclude to be the whole Northern 
 army." Such, indeed was the effect, but it was not 
 intentional. It was a mere transfer of the divisions 
 of the sixth corps from the upper to the lower 
 bridge to hold the position abandoned by the first 
 corps. That corps had gone to Chancellorsville to 
 swell Hooker's numbers for the aggressive move- 
 ment. The march was so ordered — advantagfe be- 
 ing taken of tlie make of the ground — that only its 
 arrival at the lower bridge could be seen by the 
 enemy. 
 ■^ Carlyle says the fault of the day is too much talk 
 
CnANOELLORSVlLLE. 125 
 
 — too many words. In the parlance of the army 
 we might render it "too much lip," and Hooker, 
 who conld not bring himself to be quietly content, 
 must in the exuberance ofhisjoy burst out as follows 
 in General Order I^o. 47 : "It is with heart-felt satis- 
 faction that the Commanding General announces to 
 the army, that the operations of the last three days 
 have determined that our enemy must either inglo- 
 riously fly or come out from behind his defences and 
 give us battle on our own ground, where certain 
 destruction awaits him." Old salt-water G^, in 
 Cooper's Pathfinder, dogmatic and self-opinionated 
 as he was in the extreme, was not above learning 
 even from Jasper Eau-douce, an Ontario lake sail- 
 or, and we -venture to say that if very many of our 
 Generals will study the dispatches of Lee and Jack- 
 son they will learn something of modesty and good 
 sense, something of brevity and plain English. It 
 is also noticeable that in very many of the orders 
 and reports of our Generals there is a strange ab- 
 sence of the expression of reliance upon the Lord ; 
 and in congratulations upon success, the valor and 
 courage of our troops is properly lauded, but no 
 allusion is made to the Lord of Hosts — the God of 
 
 battles. 
 Hooker with fifty thousand of his force bivouacked 
 
 at Chancellorsville Thursday night, 30th of April. 
 The Chancellorsville tract contains eight hun- 
 dred and fifty four acres— two hundred and fifty 
 acres of which are cleared, and this quantity of 
 
1£6 rmOlNIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 
 
 cleared land lies abont and next the bouse. As 
 Hooker passed around the points afterwards occu- 
 pied by bis lines in this strange, dark and gloomy 
 region, and viewed the admirable situation of the 
 ground as a purely defensive position — the dense 
 wilderness all around him aftbrding him almost 
 the advantages of an impassable morass, with the 
 ability to crowd all the vast metal of his artillery 
 in the roads which centered in his position, the 
 thought probably iirst came to him of abandoning 
 the offensive. Here, thought he, I will abide and 
 await the attack of the enemy ; securely entrenched 
 on his flank and rear, he must retreat or hunt me 
 out in these dark fastnesses. Here Lee will seek mo 
 stealthily, and fragmentarily advancing through 
 this, worse than Mexican chaparal, the mehmcholy 
 notes of the complaining birds of night, the wliip- 
 poorwills,like the German wood spirits and nixies, 
 will lure him to the death with their fatally mu- 
 sical tones. But Lee held a 'Jack' in his hand, 
 as we shall presently discover, fated to spoil all this 
 nicely concocted game; and in these dark solitudes 
 Hooker's men were destined to be stricken, and to 
 fall like autumn leaves, and here their bodies lay 
 bleaching in HeaveiTs dewsand rains, greeting the 
 eyes of their comrades a year after, when the victo- 
 rious legions of Grant bivouacked on this fatal Held 
 on their march to the death of the rebellion. 
 
BATTLE OF CnANCELLORSVlLLE. 127 
 
 lY. 
 
 Battle of Chancellorsville. 
 
 When you and I are dead, and all the strong 
 arms that gave blows to preserve the union of the 
 States are turned to dust, the full history of the 
 conflict will be written. Almost every man wlio has 
 led a regiment is possessed of facts wliicli lie will 
 not give to print because of the living. A theme 
 of great interest to the historian then to arise will 
 be the battle of Chancellorsville. The details of 
 this light which we have gleaned, would be of in- 
 terest to comparatively few, and we will content 
 ourselves with. a bare outline of events. 
 
 We have seen the splendid condition of the 
 Army of the Potomac previous to the battle. Let 
 us now turn to its opponent, the Army of Northern 
 Virginia. Lee's Army was in better shape than 
 ever before, but was not as strong in number. The 
 spring opened fair for the Southern army. Its 
 morale never was so fine as in the spring and early 
 summer of 1863. Longstreet, with Pickett and 
 Hood's divisions, was absent about Suffolk it is 
 true, but great improvements had been organized 
 in the remainder of the army. The artillery, the 
 staft" and the engineer department had all been 
 overhauled, reformed, and placed in first rate 
 working order. Hooker himself testified : " Lee's 
 infantry was always superior to ours iu discipline. 
 
128 VIRGINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 
 
 With a rank and file vastly inferior to our own, 
 intellectually and physically, that army had, by 
 discipline alone, acquired a character for steadiness 
 and efficiency unsurpassed, in my judgment, in an- 
 cient or modern times. We have not been able to 
 rival it, nor has there been any near approximation 
 to it in the other rebel armies." Hooker had more 
 than one hundred thousand men, Lee not over sixty 
 thousand. During the night of Thursday, 30th 
 April, Sickles, with his corps, joined Hooker, who 
 was at Chancellorsville. 
 
 On Friday morning Hooker came out of the Wil- 
 derness and made for the open country toward 
 Fredericksburg, occupying the turnpike and the 
 plank and river roads. Near Salem Church the 
 advance of the enemy's force was met, and some 
 skirmishing ensued. We lost probably a hundred 
 men. Remember now, that liooker and Sedgwick 
 were not more than six miles apart and the enemy's 
 small army was threatened by more than one hun- 
 dred thousand men. To the amazement of Han- 
 cock, Couch, Warren and Sykes, Hooker ordered the 
 army to fall back. ■ They begged, they expostulated, 
 as far as inferiority of position would permit; but it 
 did not avail. How the press would have rung the 
 charge of treason if some other man had led the 
 array! Back to his den in the wilderness among the 
 chincapins and scrub oaks went Hooker, flinging 
 away the best chance for glory and good placed 
 within the hand of man during the struggle. Jack- 
 
BATTLE OF GHANCELLORSVILLE. 2^9 
 
 son and Lee slept that night very near the picket 
 line on our left. Stuart, the bold, daring, restless 
 Stuart, who had no rival in either army, until Sheri- 
 dan like a blazing meteor shot up in sight, obscuring 
 all lesser lights in either army, was far away around 
 on our right, looking upon our miserable and 
 shamefyj^ nakedness in that quarter. Saturday 
 morning, Jackson with his three divisions, num- 
 bering twenty-two thousand men, made his detour 
 to the south to strike our vulnerable right. Keeping 
 far down on the outskirts of the wood with the ever 
 present Stuart and his cavalry fringing his flanks, 
 and curtaining the movements, he was nevertheless 
 discovered by Sickles near the Catharine Furnace, 
 but not until the movement was a success. Thus the 
 wilderness which was a shelter for Hooker, proved 
 at the same time a curtain for Lee, to cloak that 
 wonderful flank movement of Jackson. Meantime 
 Hooker commenced again the issue of his bulletins 
 announcing the enemy in full retreat and Sickles 
 among them capturing prisoners. To assist in 
 taking these prisoners, two brigades were sent, and 
 one of them was actually taken from the 11th corps. 
 At 4 p. m. this 2d of Maiy, this was the situation : 
 Hooker stood on the porch of the Chancellorsville 
 House. On his left Anderson and M.c Laws were 
 fighting Hancock's advance line. Col. Brown, 
 with the 145th, was in the open ground just at 
 Hooker's left. Looking south he heard Pleason- 
 ton's guns, and the well directed volleys of Sickles 
 
130 VIRGINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 
 
 and Slocuin. Eight down there at Hazel Grove 
 was the 111th. In his rear were two corps in re- 
 serve, with them was the 83d. Why, in the name 
 of all the saints, if he believed Lee was in full re- 
 treat, did he not with his two idle corps, capture or 
 kill that isolated force fighting him on the left. 
 Far away to his right and still to the right of that, 
 on a hill stood Stonewall Jackson, his glass in 
 hand, looking down upon our unprotected right. 
 No cavalry, no pickets were there. The 11th corps 
 numbered eleven thousand five hundred men, four 
 thousand five hundred were Germans — Sigel's men. 
 They faced south, save one brigade on the extreme 
 right, which was facing west. The 11th corps 
 were at supper, all unprepared for the coming 
 storm. Jackson formed his line, sweeping forward, 
 beating up from their hiding places the wild ani- 
 mals of the wilderness, they making, madly af- 
 frighted, into our lines. "Then the command by 
 bugles was heard, but with a stupidity unparalleled 
 and inexplicable, no respect was paid to the warn- 
 ing," until that wild rebel yell was heard accom- 
 panied by the rushing tramp of thousands. Then 
 away went the 11th coi'ps, and the devil take the 
 hindmost. 
 
 Long years ago, old S., of West Millcreek, used 
 to come to town frequently, and always went home 
 pretty drunk, and with a full jug to keep up the 
 enjoyment. He went home one day in this condi- 
 tion, sitting upon some boards on the horse sled. 
 
BATTLE OF CHANOELLORSVILLE. ISl 
 
 His son Jim sat ahead driving. The road was very 
 rough and full of hubs and frozen lumps, and the 
 jolting shook the old man about and loosened the 
 boards until he settled away between them so far 
 that his body began to come in contact with the 
 lumps in quick and rough succession. Pretty 
 drunk, and not exactly comprehending the situa- 
 tion, he looked with that peculiar look of drunken ' 
 imbecillity over one shoulder, and then the other, 
 when, bim! he gets a fresh hoist and then calls 
 out to his son : " Whoa, Jim, hold on ! there's 
 suthin draggin." Hooker heard the yells, the 
 heavy volleys, and turning his eyes, after looking 
 upon supposed victory at the south, to the west, 
 discovered a. wild and panic-stricken mob breaking 
 out of the woods and streaming over the open 
 ground, and concluded there "was suthin draggin," 
 He now seemed to rally, and made quick disposi- 
 tion to check this fearful state of affairs. Fifty 
 pieces of artillery were soon playing upon the ad- 
 vancing rebels, and Berry, with Hooker's old di- 
 vision, went in, and with Sickles and Pleasanton 
 turned the tide, but Berry laid down his precious 
 life in the effort. It saved the whole right of the 
 army, but more than that, immeasurably more than 
 that, it deprived the Confederates of their greatest 
 fighter — Stonewall Jackson received his death 
 wound. The Army of Northern Virginia never 
 afterward gained a battle, and when his life went 
 out the success of the Rebel Army went with 
 
1S2 VIEQINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 
 
 it. The 11th Corps was shelved, but that should 
 not have signified, for Reynolds came that night 
 with the 1st Corps, and made the number more 
 than' good. But that night a new line was traced 
 for us three-fourths of a mile in the rear. 
 
 Sunday morning came, and Stuart had taken the 
 place of Stonewall Jackson. "With those under 
 Slocum who opposed Stuart was our 111th regi- 
 ment, and here fell young Kingsbury of North East. 
 Sickles' Corps, Berry's Division of Slocum, and 
 French's Division of Crouch formed our right, the 
 remainder of Slocum & Plancock's division of 
 Crouch formed the centre and left, covering the 
 two roads leading to Fredericksburg. But with 
 two Corps idle. Hooker gave ground, and at 10 
 a. m. the enemy had Chancellorsville. The rebels 
 had advanced at every point save from the east, 
 where Hancock's advance line was posted. " On 
 the 2d of May," says Hancock, " the enemj' fre- 
 quently opened with artillery from the heights 
 towards Fredericksburg and from those on my 
 right, and with infantry assaulted my advance^' 
 line of rifl.e pits, but was always handsomely 
 repulsed by the troops on duty there, consisting 
 among others, of detachments from the 145th 
 Pennsylvania, 52d New York, and 2d Delaware 
 under Col. Miles. During the sharp contest of 
 that day the enemy were never able to reach my 
 line of battle, so strongly and successfully did Col. 
 Miles contest the ground." 
 
BATTLE OF CHANCELLORSVILLE. ISS 
 
 Col. Miles was wounded, however, on Sunday 
 morning, and was carried from the field. The 
 morning advanced nearly until noon, and Col. 
 Mc Creary continued the obstinate defence of 
 Miles, but at length he discovered bullets coming 
 into the trenches among the men from the rear. 
 A man was sent back to warn our friends that 
 they were firing too low — the man never returned. 
 Another and another were sent, the bullets coming 
 thicker and faster from the dense woods in the 
 rear, but with no better result. 
 
 More than an hour before this time Lee had 
 reached out his left hand, clasping Stuart's right, 
 and they had pressed forward along the whole line, 
 save in front of Hancock's picket line, which stood 
 firm as a rock against every assault. Bat the pla- 
 teau in their rear was occupied,, the Chancellors- 
 ville House was burning, and our brave boys were 
 receiving volleys from both front and rear. An 
 ofi&cer in gray stepped from among the trees in the 
 rear and demanded a surrender. Col. Mc Creary 
 declined, upon which the ofiicer informed him that 
 if he wished to fight the entire Confederate army 
 be could be gratified, as they were then in possess- 
 ion of our position. Every tree in our rear now 
 gave up its man in gray. Resistance was useless 
 and our men were marched to Richmond. 
 
 Swinton says that amid much that was dastardly 
 at Chancellorsviile, this defense shines forth with a 
 brilliant lustre. I saw the graves of the dead Ala- 
 
1SI^ VIRGINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 
 
 bamians and Georgians thickly covering the 
 ground in front of the skirmish line of the 145th. 
 Our boys had avenged the death of their comrades 
 at Fredericksburg. 
 
 Lee now pressed his opponent hard, and as his 
 clenched fist rained heavy blows upon Hooker's 
 bowed head, a courier thrust a dispatch into his 
 hand, announcing to him that Fredericksburg was 
 lost — the heights stormed and carried — Earl^' de- 
 feated and Sedgwick moving upon his rear. Lee 
 promptly turned to confront the new danger. Did 
 Hooker seize the new otfer fortune made him ? 
 
 Sedgwick fought with Lee in front and Early in 
 the rear, until his small force was crippled by a loss 
 of four thousand six hundred men, but no help 
 came from Hooker. The order came to recross 
 the river, the otBcers indignant at the disgrace un- 
 necessarily entailed upon the army, and devoutly 
 praying that the rising floods might sweep away the 
 pontoons and save the honor of the Army of the 
 Potomac. 
 
 "General," said I to that gallant soldier who acted 
 as Hooker's Chief-of-Stafi' upon this occasion, "I 
 never talked with any one who fought at Chancel- 
 lorsville that did not say that we should have 
 whipped them." "So we would, sir, if Gen. Hook- 
 er's orders had been obej'ed," was his reply. 
 
 The Colonel of the lllth, our own honored 
 townsman, said to me in his quiet, truthful way, 
 slowly shaking his head, "We had no fight at 
 
VISIT TO PETERSBURG n. 1S5 
 
 Chancellorsville," and his words are but an epitome 
 of all the rest. The historian will not lay fault up- 
 on the leader of the 6th corps. 
 
 John Sedgwick has passed beyond praise or 
 blame. Death came to him in the tangled meshes 
 of this wilderness region a year later. He sleeps in 
 an honored grave, and no message comes from the 
 world to which he has gone, but his good name is 
 left to us a legacy to guard forever, and his country- 
 men will be faithful to the trust. 
 
 V. 
 
 Visit to Petersburgh. 
 
 Standing on a flat car one day at the Petersburg 
 depot, we were amused at a wild refrain chanted by 
 some colored laborers. They were rolling some 
 immense casks of leaf tobacco up an inclined plane 
 upon a dray. I suppose this inclined plane must 
 have been at an angle of forty-ftvQ degrees, for 
 who ever heard of an angle expressed by any other 
 figures than "45° ?" Whenever a particular point 
 in the metre was reached, the cask by the united 
 effort moved ahead and then stopped as suddenly 
 as a hod carrier in his work when the town clock 
 strikes twelve. In the midst of this enjoyment the 
 
1S6 VIROINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 
 
 whistle sounded, and we jumped aboard the train 
 for Petersburg. All along the line of the road 
 wherever a good natural position afforded itself, 
 it had been seized and improved by art in a line of 
 defense against the invading Yankees. To the 
 right and the left these long lines of earth stretched 
 away as far as the eye could reach, until one was 
 fairly wearied with the sight of them. In due time 
 we crossed the Appomatox, and were in the Cock- 
 ade City. We encountered "an ancient and fish- 
 like smell" in the densely built streets in the lower 
 part of the city. Passing a building where my 
 friend had passed a night in prison prior to his de- 
 parture for Macon, Georgia, in June, 1864, we 
 struck out of town and headed for the Avery plan- 
 tation. The weather was hot, but we walked brisk- 
 ly on, mile after mile, among the interminable 
 earth works. There were no fences, but few houses, 
 and nothing broke the monotony ot earth and sky 
 save Earthworks, forts, and epaulements. It seem- 
 ed as though all the men in the country had gath- 
 ered in this region, and had been using shovels and 
 spades during the whole term of their natural 
 lives. 
 
 The work of defence upon all other fields which 
 we had visited dwindled into insignificance when 
 compared with these. JTeither line seemed to have 
 any advantage over the other in strength of con- 
 struction, and it was easy to account for the long 
 dead-lock at this place. The first point of neutral 
 
VISIT TO PETERSBURGH. 1S7 
 
 ground we struck was about the width of State 
 street, and behind the eartliworks at that distance 
 apart were posted the pickets of both armies. An 
 endless number of covered ways arid zigzag under- 
 ground passages led to the main line at the rear. 
 These passages were so numerous and ample that 
 whole brigades could easily and speedily be thrown 
 to the front or safely and securely retired. The 
 main line was an immense embankment of earth- 
 work stretching as far as the eye could see. Some 
 rods in front of this was a line of chevaux-de-frise, 
 over which no man could go ; then came posts hold- 
 ing three or four lines of telegraph wire, a de- 
 lightful thing for a storming party to encounter. 
 Behind that, and set at a proper angle in the em- 
 bankment, was a bristling wall of second growth, 
 denuded of all leaves and twigs, and each limb 
 pointed as sharp as a nail, and behind two such 
 lines as these were the men in blue and gray. In 
 the rear of this line was Grant's railway from City 
 Point. 
 
 There is one thought that will enter the mind 
 of every man who will go down into Virginia and 
 look upon these battle-fields, and that is, the extreme 
 modesty of the brave men who have come back to 
 us from the field, in their stories of the hardships 
 of camp life. 'So pen can convey an idea of the her- 
 culean task which the eye notes and comprehends 
 in Virginia. Oh ! my friends, we who entered not 
 into these glorious and stormy duties, be it ours to 
 
1S8 VIROINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 
 
 shield the memory of the dead, to honor while we 
 live the remnant of the brave, and teach our chil- 
 dren to bless their names. Lot us never withhold 
 any good thing that we may be able to give these 
 men — the wounded, the sick, the fearfully-stricken. 
 Give the living the places of honor, of profit, and 
 of ease, for they belong to them by right; raise the 
 marble high towards Heaven, commemorative of 
 the deeds of the dead. See to it that j'ou are a 
 husband to the widow, and a father to those who 
 are made fatherless by reason of devotion to coun- 
 try. Pennsylvania stands above reproach in this 
 respect, and generously educates and nurtures all 
 who will come within reach of her outstretched 
 arras. 
 
 Let us for a moment imagine a return of the 
 past. Here, but a few short months ago, in front 
 of these apparently invulnerable fortifications, lay 
 the men of the 83d and 145th with tens of thous- 
 ands of their comrades, hammering by night and 
 by day at this stronghold, and looking and waiting 
 for the end. Our other regiment, the 111th, was 
 with the noble army of Sherman, marching from 
 the mountains to the sea. Li the lull of the now 
 almost perpetual battle, and far awaj' from the 
 broad savannas of the South, there comes a sound 
 like a phantom echo, "they are coming." It reach- 
 es with joyous distinctness the ears of our brave 
 men at Columbia Prison, and Mc Creary and Lynch, 
 Lytle, Mc Intosh and Mc Cray turn their glad 
 
'' VISIT TO PETERSBUEQE. 139 
 
 eyes to the Soutli, "they are coming." It falls like 
 the knell of doom upon the ears of their keepers, 
 and like the jailor in Holy Writ, they tremhle, 
 for "they are coming." The men of the 83d and 
 145th start from their beds in the sands of those 
 lowlands of Virginia, and now more distinctly, but 
 still far away beyond the Roanoke, the Cape Fear 
 and the Santee, they hear the sound and thank 
 God — "they are coming." 
 
 iN'ow all were gone from this place, and nothing 
 having life was visible, save some colored people, 
 cutting willow twigs for basket work. As we, 
 worn and heated, began to near the Avery dwell- 
 ing, the scene became quite southern in its charac- 
 ter. A great number of "the people" were plow- 
 ing, as usual with a single mule. Black women 
 were passing out of the yard about the house, 
 with bright handkerchiefs wound about their heads 
 and hoes upon their shoulders, going to the cotton 
 field. We found the planter near his house, and 
 the Colonel, informing him that he and his com- 
 mand were captured upon this plantation, request- 
 ed the privilege of examining the formidable works 
 just in sight. "I remember it very well, sir," 
 said the planter, "and I thought it strange that 
 your small force should charge that fort, right 
 across the open plain, without support. You killed 
 a heap of our men, and they lay very thick on that 
 cotton field. The house that stood then where 
 this one stands now, and all the quarters of my 
 
Ijfi riROINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 
 
 people, were filled with our wounded. But I could 
 see that you were so completely enfiladed hy the 
 upper fort, and the works leading to it, that you 
 were "gone up," especially as you had no second 
 line ; a good many of your own men hung back 
 just beyond that swale where you see the two trees, 
 &c." 
 
 We went down and examined the vast works in 
 this two hundred and fifty acre cotton field. I made 
 a rough sketch of the ground, and we returned with 
 the planter to the house. The women of the house 
 fied at our approach, as usual, and the weather be- 
 ing very warm, we drew chairs and sat upon the 
 porch. "The evening of your capture, sir," (said 
 he, addressing the Colonel,) "an artillery fire was 
 concentrated upon our house, and the Confederate 
 ofiieer in charge ordered us to leave. My uncle, Mr. 
 Avery, an old man of eightj'-four, had just time 
 to take down his watch from a nail, so hurried 
 was our departure. I never saw the old house 
 again," said he, "for the next day our men fired 
 the place and fell back to another line. I did 
 not again reach the plantation until the evacuation 
 of Richmond." Oftering him some E-ichmond 
 papers which I had, he received them with thanks, 
 "although," said he, "I read, no newspapers now. 
 I don*t care for politics; my business is to make a 
 crop or two ; when that is done, I may look to see 
 what is going on in the world." In reply to nu- 
 merous questions, he spoke about as follows : "I get 
 
VISIT TO PETERSBUMGH. IJ^l 
 
 on rather better than my neighbors. I pay my 
 men punctually every Saturday night, and they 
 ■will work if they are paid ; but they don't like me 
 to go into the field where they are' at work — it 
 savors too much of old^times and they get sulky. 
 
 "The town niggers are very saucy. The other 
 day one came out from Petersburg with a mule- 
 cart, and went down into the woods there and cut 
 a load of wood, and as he was driving up the lane 
 and was passing the house, I went out and ordered 
 him to throw out that wood. He reached down in 
 his cart, and taking up a carbine and laying it 
 across his knee, he impudently looked me full in 
 the face and said, 'Dem woods down dar is as 
 much mine as dey is yours,' and raising the lines 
 with a thrap on the mule's back he moved on to 
 town. But with all the annoyance incident to the 
 great change, I do better pecuniarily than when I 
 owned slaves. Across this farm," said he, "and 
 right by this door, Alexander Stephens and his 
 party went to take cars for City Point and Fortress 
 Monroe to meet Mr. Lincoln and Seward and talk* 
 of peace. We all supposed then that peace was 
 coming. We knew the Confederacy was gone 
 under, and then if our people had accepted your 
 ofi«r we could have had peace and saved some- 
 thing, and by this time had a crop or two ; but we 
 took the fool's part and lost all. A nephew of 
 mine in Brooklyn started me here,- for the war lost 
 me everything but the land, and now I am com- 
 
142 riliOIMA BATTLE-FIELDS. 
 
 mencing life over again." This man was the most 
 sensible of any that I had met in Virginia, be- 
 cause he was practical and accepted the situation. 
 
 As evening drew upon us he called a boy from the 
 field and bade him drive us as far as the church- 
 yard near the town. This was much for the plant- 
 er to do, for it took a horse and a laborer from the 
 cotton field in a very throng time; "the season 
 was backward and work was behind." He de- 
 clined all compensation for the service, saying he 
 was happy in being able to serve us, etc. It was a 
 matter of debate in my mind whether, if my friend 
 and I were visiting the fields of Saratoga or Lex- 
 ington, any farmer in that region would have pur- 
 sued the same course "to the stranger within his 
 gates." 
 
 Earthworks to the right, to the left, in front and 
 behind us. We passed Burnside's horrid crater of 
 d^ath and soon reached " The Old Blauford 
 Church." The sun was setting as we alighted from 
 the carriage. The walls alone of the old church 
 were standing, and they were entirely covered with 
 ivy clear to the tops of the gables. The ivy had 
 overrun all the large forest trees in the neighbor- 
 hood of the ruin and reached to their topmost 
 branches. This relic of bygone days stood in the 
 midst of a cemetery thickly filled with graves and 
 surrounded by a heavy brick wall ivy-covered. All 
 the bricks used for the church and wall were im- 
 ported from England. The roof, doors and win- 
 
VISIT TO PETEBSBURan. l^S 
 
 dows bad long since gone to decay and we stood 
 within the walls with the sky above us and our feet 
 upon mother earth. While looking upon some 
 names newly painted in column upon the wall, a 
 queer-looking old fellow that reminded me strongly 
 of Scott's "Old Mortality," appeared at a side door- 
 way of the ruin and informed us that the names rep- 
 resented old men of a compan}^ formed in the town, 
 for its defence, and that it had fallen during the 
 late rebellion. This church dates back to 1733 and 
 was contracted for at £485, current money of Vir- 
 ginia. It was finished in 1764. The aisles were 
 six feet in width and paved with white Bristol 
 stone; but every trace of interior arrangement is 
 long since obliterated. 
 
 Getting our dinners in a saloon, where there was 
 much drunken boastfulness of what had been done 
 by the soldiers of the confederacy, we sat down to 
 a Eichmond newspaper for dessert, reading an arti- 
 cle on "The Old Virginia Gentleman." 
 
 Every one knows, says the editor, what is signi- 
 fied by the caption, but if the heading were " The 
 Old Maine Gentleman," some explanation would 
 be deemed advisable. 
 
 It was near midnight, when, after threading the 
 dark, crooked streets, we reached the depot. There 
 was no waiting room, no light, but we found a col- 
 ored man sitting in a box car with a lighted lan- 
 tern. He politely opened a car and showed us in^ 
 told us smoking was allowed, we need not throw 
 
1J^J^ VIRGINIA BATTLE-FIELDS, 
 
 away onr cigars, and offered to go to the Boling- 
 broke House, many squares away, and replenish our 
 Btock of cigars. He had at one glance divined 
 that we were Northerners, and told us with much 
 warmth and fervor that he was always happy to 
 wait upon our kind of people. A happy bridal par- 
 ty with a troop of friends soon came on board the 
 train. We heard the Avhistle of the approaching . 
 engine from Weldon, and in a few minutes were off 
 for Richmond. 
 
 YI. 
 
 The Battle of Gaines' Mill. 
 
 My last day in Virginia I had reserved for a visit 
 to Gaines' Mill. There is no spot in the South 
 possessing more melancholy interest to our people 
 than this battlefield, and nowhere over the wild 
 field occupied b}' our armies was there a more 
 deadly and unequal conflict for the mastery. 
 
 It is generally conceded by the writers on both 
 sides that on no other field was there so hot and 
 continued a roll of musketry fire as here. It was 
 the first general conflict of the army of the Poto- 
 mac, and was mainly carried on by Fitz John Por- 
 ter and twenty-seven thousand men, against sixty- 
 five thousand of the enemy. 
 
THE BATTLE OF QAINES' MILL. 1^5 
 
 Taking a carriage, and the Meehanicsville road, 
 we were soon passing tlirougli line upon line of 
 earthworks for the defence of i^ichmond. These 
 works consisted of three lines a mile apart, and 
 reacliing in a vast semicircle from river to river. 
 A perfect chain of forts made with tomb-proofs, 
 were placed along each line within supporting dis- 
 tance of each otlier, and all constructed in a most 
 finished manner. The slaves were pressed into the 
 service of the rebel government by tens of thou- 
 sands in the construction of these works, which were 
 for the defence of a policy that was to rivet forever 
 the fetters of slavery upon them, but the boys in 
 blue entered their strong-bold, and Abraham Lin- 
 coln struck the manacles from their limbs, and 
 paved the way to their ultimate and perfect free- 
 dom. 
 
 The Chickahominy in ordinary stages is an in- 
 different stream running through a very broad 
 valley, which after continuous rains is converted 
 into an almost impassable morass. 
 
 Passing this valley, which to our army was in- 
 deed tliat "of the shadow of death," we soon 
 reached Meehanicsville, a mere hamlet, but noted . 
 as being the scene of the fight of the Pennsylvania 
 Eeserves under Mc Call on the day prior to the bat- 
 tle day at Gaines' Mill. A little farther along and 
 we came to EUerson's Mill, a building about the siz.e 
 of one of the old slaughter-houses in the Millcreek 
 valley twenty years ago. Seymour was stationed at 
 
U6 VIItaiNIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 
 
 this mill. In fact, he and Ke3'nolds with six thous- 
 and men fought and whipped five hrigades of 
 tweU'e thousand. We had the advantage of posi- 
 tion and lost three hundred, they losing one thous- 
 and five hundred. Coming out of this mill we saw 
 a most wretched looking old man with a grist upon 
 his back. He was blind, and held a stafif in his 
 hand. A white-haired, pale-faced little girl guided 
 the poor old man. They were "piuey woods peo- 
 ple," known generally as poor white trash. 
 
 We stopped a moment at Walnut Grove Church. 
 Here in the woods, aboutthe church, beside the road, 
 every-where, were dead rebels. Our own men had 
 been raised and buried in the E"ational Cemetery at 
 Cold Harbor. The Eichmond Ambulance Commit- 
 tee, an association similar to our Christian Commis- 
 sion, had placed white boards at the heads of their 
 dead, giving the name and regiment of all as far as 
 possible. Down this road, skirted with cedars.we 
 went. It was right along here, between Walnut 
 Grove Church and Gaines' Mill, that the 83d bi- 
 vouacked on the night of the 2^th of June, 1862. 
 Five hundred and fifty of them laid themselves 
 ■ down to dream of home and the conflict sure to 
 come on the morrow. The next night, like chil- 
 dren deprived of a parent, shattered and broken, 
 they encamped on the other side of the river, two 
 hundred and ninety-five in number. McLane, 
 Vincent and Naghel, where are they? Though 
 their faces are.no more seen upon earth, and the 
 
THE BATTLE OF GAINES' MILL. 1^7 
 
 laurel has faded and fallen from their brows, let us 
 trust tliat their feet tread the golden streets of 
 Emanuel's land, their features radiant with the glo- 
 rious light reflected from the face of Him who died 
 that they might live, and their brows surmounted, 
 not with the perishing laurel of earth, but wreathed 
 with the white immortelles tlitit fade not, because 
 they bloom beside the waters of the i-iver of life. 
 
 Gaines' jNIill stood in ruin, the skeleton of the 
 great wheel within, and the whole interior choked 
 with weeds. A little farther along and at a cross 
 road we turned into the pine woods, a swarm of vil- 
 lainous looking fellows coming out of a grocery 
 dressed in their graj* uniforms, some with empty 
 sleeves, and scowling at us as we passed. Passing 
 down a hill we came upon old earthworks of 1862. 
 At the top of the hill Ave found the more recent 
 works of Grant, he having fought over this field 
 two \-ears later. It was beginning to look famil- 
 iar, the make of ground agreeing well with the 
 account of Judson and other historians of the Pen- 
 insular campaign. Getting out of the carriage I 
 went into a tobacco field where men of both colors 
 were busy at work, and approaching an elderly 
 man having an honest-looking face, I informed 
 him that I was here from the North to look at 
 this battle-field; that the lady in mourning dress 
 in the carriage was the widow of an officer who 
 had fallen on the field — that she was anxious to 
 visit the ground where her husband had lived the 
 
148 VIRQINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 
 
 last days of his life, and met his untimely death. 
 
 I was fortunate in meeting this man. It was Mr. 
 Magee, and this farm of his on which we stood 
 was tlie theatre of stirring events, and his name 
 was often mentioned in correspondence from the 
 hattlo-fields both in the days of Mc Clellan and 
 of Grant. These vast works that surrounded us 
 were Grant's. Mc Clellan had been ridiculed — 
 whether properly or not I shall not pretend to say 
 — as the hero of the spade and shovel, but his 
 earth-works in this region bore no more propor- 
 tion to Grant's than the Fifth street sewer will 
 to Mr. Lowry's gunboat canal. The trenches of 
 the picket lines were not thirty feet apart, and 
 in places even this distance was sought to be less- 
 ened by tunneling. All around us was the debris 
 of the battle-field, and the plow in the furrow, we 
 noticed, was continually choked with rags of blue 
 and gray, bent ramrods, old haversacks, &c. 
 
 Taking refuge under a beech tree from the 
 burning heat of the sun, I asked Magee to point 
 out the left of our line on the Gaines' Mill field. 
 "You are asking for the position of Butterfield's 
 Brigade," said he ; "tliat was the finest body of men 
 in Mc Cleilan's army. I was often in your lines 
 before the engagement and was always courteously 
 treated. An old neighbor of mine, who was fear- 
 fully afflicted and all drawn out of shape with in- 
 flammatory rheumatism, wetit into Butterfield's 
 lines one day for relief. Fitz John Porter sent for 
 
THE BATTLE OF O AWES' MILL. IJfi 
 
 rae and enquired concerning this man, and when I 
 endorsed his industry and honesty, the men of his 
 corps raised several hundred dolhirs and gave him, 
 together with food to eat, and saved that poor 
 man and his family from want and misery, like true 
 chivalric gentleman that they were. You called Fitz 
 John Porter a traitor to your cause. I tell you sir 
 no such fighting was done in these parts daring the 
 war as he did that day at Gaines' Mill. It seemed 
 as though these men of Butterfield's on the left 
 could never be whipped. The war is over now sir, 
 said he, and lowering his voice — we may as well 
 tell the truth : old Jackson liked not to got here 
 because he took the wrong road, and if he hadn't 
 have got in, we would have been awfully whipped. 
 Why there was an old black man of mine you ought 
 to have heard talk. He was in the cellar of a 
 cabin off on the left yonder, and his curiosity got 
 the better of his fears, and he crawled out to see 
 the fight. He said every time our men went into 
 the gully beyond Watt's liouse, they came out like 
 as though there was a hornet's nest there — then 
 the blue coats would follow them out, then some 
 more of we'uns would come up and you'uns 
 would travel back, and so it was 'till near dark, 
 when old Jack and Hood's men came up and 
 broke your left." 
 
 In asking concerning these repeated charges 
 against Butterfield's brigade — which are matters of 
 history — Mr. Magee called his son from the plow 
 
160 VmaiNIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 
 
 and said, "Ho can tell 3-011 about them." The son, 
 a modest, manly fellow, said he was in a rcpnient 
 under Pickett. "Several charges on yoiii- left had 
 been made when we were ordered in. It was the 
 worst place I ever saw. We went in but we came 
 out again in a hurry, and did'nt keer to go back. 
 We then charged that battei-y that swept our ap- 
 proach to your left, and we took it. I fought 
 through the war except when I was a prisoner at 
 Fort Delaware, and I never saw your men fight as 
 Butterfield's brigade did that da}*, excepting on the 
 centre the last day at Gettysburg." Proud was I 
 beyond anything I can express at this tribute from 
 a former enemy to the valor of the 83d and their 
 brother regiments. Seeing some newspapers in 
 my pockets, Mr. Magee asked me if they were 
 northern papers, and expressed a regret when I 
 told him they were not. But I informed him that 
 he could always find the Tribune and Times, with 
 the Herald and World, at the news-room in the 
 Bpottswood in Richmond. He said he had not 
 seen a northern paper since the war, and was anx- 
 ious to see how we felt towards them. 
 
 Entering our carriage and driving through the 
 pine woods among the graves — graves everj^- 
 where — we soon ascended a little hill and ap- 
 proached the Watt house, an old fashioned Vir- 
 ginia double house with outside chimneys, stand- 
 ing upon a bright greensward, surrounded by high 
 trees, with negro quarters all about the house. 
 
THE BATTLE OF GAINES' MILL. 151 
 
 Here Major Is^aghel died from his wounds after 
 living long enougli to direct that the body of Col- 
 onel McLane be found and brouglit to tlie house, 
 which was done. The liouse seemed tenantless. 
 There were no curtains upon any of the win- 
 dows, the glass was broken, and there was a gen- 
 eral air of desertion and neglect about the place. 
 Ascending a flight of five or six steps to the door, 
 I knocked. A broken window was immediately 
 at mj' left, and I could not but look in as I faced 
 the door. I could see men and women and heard 
 angry female voices addressed to the man who 
 moved toward the door to answer our summons. 
 "Drive them awaj^," "Toll them to clear out," 
 "Don't ask them in here," "Make them go away." 
 There was a momentary muttering and caucussing 
 carried on by some male voices. I stepped down 
 upon the ground and feeling my "Wesson" safe 
 on my hip, saluted the man of the house as he 
 opened the door. Out he came with his ill-favored 
 brood of sons, who looked us over much as a huge 
 mastiff will circle about a stranger, looking for a 
 place to take hold. The party were exceedingly 
 surly and uncommunicative. "Mr. Watt did not 
 live there now — there was nothing to be seen — 
 there was no person buried there — we are busy 
 and cannot go around with you." 
 
 We talked awhile ; I was smoking and offered 
 him a cigar, which opened his mouth a little. (I 
 had left my flask of Ilarrisburg whiskey of a vile 
 
152 VIRQINIA BATTLE-FIELDS, 
 
 quality, at the Spottswood. I tliiiik that would 
 have brought him. I discovered in the evening 
 that it had "brought" the colored servant on that 
 floor of the hotel ; at least he wm very tight, and 
 my flask was empty.) The ludy with unerring 
 step left the carriage, and with her perfect knowl- 
 edge led the way to the place wliero, under the 
 tree beside the negro quarters, her husband and 
 Major Naghel had been buried. Into the woods 
 above the house we went, the unwilling party ac- 
 companying us. We were on the field where the 
 83dhad made their great fight. I noticed a human 
 skull upon the ground. One of the sons picked 
 it up and dropping it in disgust said, "That's 
 a Yank." The driver to relieve us, drew the boys 
 away to the right, to look at Martindale's lines, 
 and left us alone with the old man. The lady 
 passed down and stood under the beech tree men- 
 tioned by Judson in his history, while I with diffi- 
 culty held the old man in conversation. "I was'nt 
 here during the fight" said he, "in fact I had gone 
 over to Amelia C. H. with Dr. Gaines' niggers to 
 keep you'uns from getting them. The boys saw 
 the fight and they said the Irish fought awful." 
 "What do you mean by the Irish?" said I, "Why 
 Butterfield's men were Irish," said he. "They 
 were not," said I. "Meagher's brigade were a 
 separate body of men and never came on the field 
 until dusk that evening, when they came with 
 Sumner's men to cover our i-etreat." I found it 
 
THE BATTLE OF GAINES' MILL. 153 
 
 everywhere in Virginia tlie habit, wherever any 
 splendid fighting was done to accredit it wholly to 
 Meagher's brigade, so determined are these people 
 to give the JTorthern men no credit for the sound 
 Econrgings they received at their hands. It crops 
 out in the writings of Pollard, Van Broocke and 
 others everywhere, and is as living a libel upon our 
 brave boys as Andrew Joiinson is upon luirnanity. 
 The valor of the Irish brigade is a matter of history, 
 but they have been put upon a hundred fields by 
 rebel historians in positions which they never 
 saw. "Well," said the man, "It was Buttcrfield's 
 brigade at any rate, be they who they were, and 
 if vour men in the centre had fought as well, we 
 would have been licked. Over yonder, where you 
 see that broom grass lilce, is where Hood's Texans 
 made their great charge. But old Jack's coming 
 up saved us." Again I experienced a feeling of 
 deep heartfelt pride in telling this overseer of Dr. 
 Gaines, that one of the regiments of tliat brigade 
 was organized in my town, and owed its admirable 
 discii.)line to the husband of the lady then standing 
 near where he had fallen in defence of his country. 
 I might quote pages of rebel history to prove the 
 desperate bravery of our men, but one or two items 
 will suffice. 
 
 Esten Cooke says ; * * * "Such was the des- 
 perate aspect of aftuirs on the field about five in the 
 evening. The Federal troops had repulsed every 
 assault, and the descending sun threatened to set 
 
15 ^ r ma INI A battle-fields. 
 
 upon a clay memorable in tlie annals of the South 
 for bloody and disastrous defeat. One man alone 
 could reverse this picture of ruin. Jackson came, 
 pronouncing it in my hearing the most horrible 
 fire of musketry he ever heard." Prof. Dabuey, of 
 the Union Theological Seminary of Virginia, says 
 of our left: "Longstrcet was bringing up his divis- 
 ion to storm this desperate line, and after other 
 brigades had recoiled, broken by a lire under which 
 it seemed impossible that any troops could live, 
 was just sending in his never failing reserve, Pick- 
 ett's veteran brigade. These troops, after advanc- 
 ing heroically over the shattered regiments of their 
 friends within point blank range of the triple 
 lines before them, unfortunately paused to return 
 the fire. As they stood there decimated by every 
 volley, unable to advance, but too courageous to 
 flee, then the brigades of Ilond and Whiting were 
 launched against the Federal lines on the left — the 
 line was carried, but a thousand men fell in death 
 in that single cliarge." 
 
 Hill, and Pender, and Archer, all speak in their 
 oflacial reports of their utter inability to break our 
 left. .Whiting, of Jackson's command, who came 
 to their relief, says : "Men were leaving the field 
 in great disorder in every direction ;' two regi- 
 ments, one from South Carolina and one from 
 Louisiana, were actually marching back from the 
 fire. The 1st Texas were ordered to go over them 
 and through them, which they did. Near the 
 
THE BATTLE OF GAINES' MILL. 155 
 
 crest, in front of us and lying down, appeared the 
 fragments of a brigade. Men were skulking from 
 the front in a shameful manner; the woods on 
 our left and rear were full of troops in a safe 
 cover, from which they never stirred. Still further 
 on our extreme right our troops appeared to he 
 falling hack. The troops on our immediate left I 
 do not know, and I am glad I don't. Tliose that 
 did come up were much broken, and no entreaty or 
 command could induce them to come forward." 
 The South Carolina regiment he speaks of sustain- 
 ed in that charge a loss of seventy-six killed, two 
 hundred and twenty-one. wounded and fifty-eight 
 missing. 'So wonder they marched off the field. 
 
 Turn to Judson's History of the 83rd for the 
 Union account of the fight. It is better given by 
 a hero of the conflict than I can tell it. I have 
 preferred to give 3'ou brief rebel accounts, sufficient 
 without another woi'd to immortalize tlie names of 
 McLane, Vincent, Naghel, Campbell, Brown, Ly- 
 on, Woodward, Graham, Finn, Austin, Reed, Jud- 
 son, the Wittichs, Vunnatta, GofF, Rogers, Duggan, 
 Sell, the Haldermans, Hunter, Whittlesey, Clark, 
 Terrel, and a host of others of our townsmen. that 
 helped to strike these heavy blows upon the ene- 
 my. At night, the last to leave, when all hope 
 was gone, they waded through the raorass of the 
 Chickahominj' — the bridges having been taken up 
 under the supposition that all were over — and laid 
 themselves down in tlfe woods with their eyes turn- 
 
156 VUiOINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 
 
 ed in the direction of the fatal field, where, under 
 the pines, the forms of their brave leaders and 
 comrades were cold in death. 
 
 "The muffled dnim's sad roll has beat, 
 
 The soldi er's last tattoo, 
 No move on life's parade shall meet 
 
 That brave and fallen few; 
 On Fame's eternal camping groimd 
 
 Their silent tents are spread, 
 And glory guards, wilh solemn round, 
 
 The bivouac of tlie dead." 
 
 We met the driver upon our return to the house, 
 entered the carriage and turned our backs upon 
 this inhospitable region. The driver — who feign- 
 ed to this man's sons that he had served in an 
 Alabama regiment — received a lively account of 
 how they had stripped the dead on this battle field 
 of watches, rings and money, and informed us that 
 they had proposed "to go through" our party. 
 We re-crossed the river, and taking a new road 
 were soon in Richmond, and were congratulated 
 upon returning in safety from a vile region of coun- 
 try. The next morning we took the steamer at 
 Rockett's for Norfolk, where we changed boats for 
 Baltimore. Just at night we made a landing and 
 went upon deck. Out in the darkness, against 
 the sky, rose the wails of Fortress Monroe. Safe 
 within was confined "the head and front of this 
 offending." Black clouds curtained all the sky, 
 the wind whistled through the rigging of tiie wa- 
 ter-craft, dipping uneasily ^ anchor, and the an- 
 
TEE BATTLE OF OAINES' MILL. 1S7 
 
 gry waves lashed the shore. The waters, slirred to 
 their depths, were casting their impurities against 
 the walls which environed the arch traitor. 
 
 Grass is growing green over the graves of thou- 
 sands of brave men all over the land, that, but for 
 this man and his fellows, would be living this day. 
 Wives and mothers turn their weary eyes to the 
 South to-night in their dreams, looking for loved 
 faces to be seen no more. This man stands be- 
 tween them and their lost ones. Children by tens 
 of thousands are deprived of protectors, and must 
 struggle up to the light in a gnarled and stunted 
 growth, with no friendly hand to lead, no fatherly 
 voice to encourage. 
 
 Blackened walls, gaunt skeleton-like stacks of 
 chimneys mar the landscape everywhere. The 
 roof-tree is charred and dead, its protecting branch- 
 es shrunk and shrivelled, but it matters not, for 
 the forms it sheltered are gone. Oh ! the thou- 
 sand sights and sounds of the war that would arise 
 that niglit ! 
 
 And now we dash across the angry waters to en- 
 ter Chesapeake Bay. The lights of Fortress Mon- 
 roe are fadins; from siijht. Farewell to the scenes 
 of conflict and carnage, and the tens of thousands 
 of graves here in Virginia of those who have left 
 us and have gone (let us say it with reverence) to 
 that better country, where rebellion was quickly 
 quenched, and treason as speedily and everlasting- 
 ly punished. 
 
OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 
 
 THE JOHN ASHBOUGH LETTERS. 
 
 A Boy's "Walk around the Diamond. 
 
 I am but a middle-aged man, and yet I note 
 many changes about my home since I was a boy. 
 What is now known as the Park was in that day 
 called the Diamond. It was devoid of trees, and 
 the old people worked many weary days to clear 
 it, and some of them looked with disfavor upon 
 the planting of trees, about 1846, in the same spot. 
 There was quite a ravine extending from the place 
 now occupied by the Park Church across the Dia- 
 mond to the present Ellsworth House. There was 
 a grass plot extending over the greater portion of 
 the present East Park. In the West Park we had 
 the court house, county offices, a little wooden 
 building for an engine house, and a small market 
 house of wood, afterwards removed to fifth street 
 east of Holland. The old fire engine, so long hous- 
 
 * These Letters were published in the Erie Observer in 
 1873-4-5, and excited at the time a great deal of interest. 
 
A DOTS WALK ABOUND THE DIAMOND. 159 
 
 ed in the otlier little building, Iny for a long time 
 in the ditch, overgrown with smart weed, upon 
 Fifth street. 
 
 Let us stop for a moment in front of the Stone 
 Tavern, kept by Joseph Y. Moorhead, who suc- 
 ceeded Robert Brown, who was in turn succeeded 
 by James S. Clark and Barney Honeywell. That 
 corner is always associated in my mind witli dog 
 fights. There was a large, old, stub-tailed, brindled 
 dos: named Mars belon2;in2: to the Stone Tavern. 
 He always went with the house and goodwill, up- 
 on a change of owners, and he generally managed 
 to have some differences of opinion to settle with 
 every country dog coming into town. Then after 
 the battle the idlers would give Mars pennies, and 
 with them in his mouth he would go to John Ly- 
 tle's grocery and buy crackers and cakes — placing 
 his fore paws upon the counter and dropping the 
 pennies, and then wagging that stub tail of his un- 
 til he received the equivalent of his money. 
 
 John Ly tie rang the court-house bell at 7 a. m., 
 12 m., and 9 p. m. each day except Sundays. 
 Upon Sunday the court house was used occasion- 
 ally by itinerant preachers of denominations with- 
 out meeting-houses in the town. I remember to 
 have stood upon this corner and listened to the 
 pleasant description of Florida life in winter by 
 Mr. William A. Brown, who had recently return- 
 ed home with restored health. The loud laugh of 
 "Bill Willis" comes from another group, where 
 
160 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 
 
 Mr. Lloyd, from the country, Geo. Moore, Thos. 
 P. James, Thomas Dillon and Koyal Freeman are 
 talking politics in an excited manner. Boys are 
 not interested in their discussions, and we walk 
 along westward. The portly gentleman in broad 
 brimmed hat, long black coat, wearing slippers 
 and carrying a heavy hickoi'y cane, is John Morris 
 Esq. He came here from Berks Count}', and liv- 
 ed in a house where the Park Church now stands. 
 Upon the same lot was his hat shop and an old 
 fashioned stone spring-house upon the side of the 
 ravine. Mr. Morris was always followed by a lit- 
 tle, long-haired, light-colored dog, the companion 
 of all his walks. The brick house on the corner, 
 latterly known as the Park House, was occupied 
 by the Ecv. Geo. A. Lyon, and a portion of the 
 time by Henry Cad well. 
 
 Across Peach street a lady is standing looking 
 with admiration upon a garden. Boy like, we go 
 to see what is fixing her attention, and we discover 
 Mrs. Morris, who says to us: "John, Mrs. Bab- 
 bitt always has the nicest flower garden in Erie." 
 We meet Mr. Eliot near his own house in conver- 
 sation with P. S. V. Hamot, Esq. They were the 
 same courteous gentlemen then as thereafter. They 
 always had a pleasant word for us boys, and I know 
 that we had a kindly and respectful feeling for 
 them during all the subsequent years of their lives. 
 
 Corner of Sixth street and the Diamond was a 
 fine place to play marbles, and here we find Dent 
 
A BOTS WALK AROUND TEE DIAMOND. 161 
 
 Johns, Ben Wilkins and John and William Eliot 
 engaged in a game. That boy coming down Sixth 
 street astride of that beautiful pony is John Doug- 
 lass. We boys each wish for a pony like that one, 
 and all of us have at our tongue's end a fable as to 
 the cost of these ponies at Detroit and Mackinaw. 
 Did we doubt it? JSTo, sir! Dave Mills told us we 
 could buy those ponies at Mackinaw for ten dollars, 
 and Dave had been up on Eeed's boats, and Dave 
 knew. That gentleman with the portly fram.e, side 
 whiskers, hands in white gloves, carrying a cane, 
 and just turning up Sixth street, is Dr. William 
 Johns. The pleasant- faced gentleman with him is 
 the Frenchman who is building the steam mill in 
 the Raven woods — Mr. P. C. Blancan. There was 
 a garden then where Mrs. Gen. Eeed's house is now, 
 and a great mound in it near the street. The house 
 farther on was then occupied, I think, by Don 
 Carlos Barrett, Esq. Edward Emery afterwards 
 lived there and made the nicest candy in town. 
 Just ahead of ns are three young gentlemen, Gideon 
 J. Bali, James Hoskinson and John Moore. The 
 new steamer Jefferson is in and they are going 
 down to see Mr. Moore safe on board. That fine- 
 looking young man who meets them at the corner, 
 who always wears the glossiest silk hat, and the 
 ruflled shirt, with the small square pin on his breast, 
 is the stage agent, Ira W. Hart. 
 
 The first Presbyterian church was quite different 
 from the present building. It was of brick, painted 
 
162 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 
 
 red ; the top of the dome, like an inverted tea-cup 
 minus the rim, was covered with unpaintod tin, 
 which glistened in the sun, and was always a prom- 
 inent object in approaching town'either by land or 
 water. Above the dome was a gilt angel six feet 
 in length, with trumpet to mouth, which with the 
 "boot-jack" on the old court house answered as 
 weather cocks. Above that boot-jack, by the way, 
 was a ball of wood, pierced by the lightning rod, 
 and one morning a little sign was found nailed to 
 that ball. I think the sign bore the inscription 
 " Wm. Kelley, Justice of the Peace." Later, I 
 remember, one St. Patrick's morning, a stuiFed 
 effigy with a string of potatoes about the neck, a 
 stick in one hand and a bottle in the other, was dis- 
 covered upon the topmost pinnacle of the old court 
 house.. It was spring election day and the polls 
 were at the court-house. All the long day, despite 
 the eftbrts at removal, did the effigy swing in the 
 March wind, until Mr. A. C. Hilton, with his rifle, 
 cut the cord which held it, and down it came and 
 was burned in the middle of State street in front 
 of Poor People's Row. 
 
 The interior of that old Presbyterian church was 
 odd enough. As you entered, you faced the seated 
 congregation, and the pulpit of course was just at 
 your hand upon going in. There was a gradual 
 but very perceptible rise in that floor as you walked 
 back to the rear end of that church. I remember a 
 marble finding its way through a hole iu my pocket, 
 
A BOY'S WALE AROUND THE DIAMOND. IBS 
 
 one Sunday, as I was walking up the aisle, and it 
 made very good time down to the hall door. I 
 didn't stop to chase it just then, and never found 
 it. I always thought Remus Baldwin, the sexton, 
 found it and gave it to one of his boys. It was 
 a white alley with a red streak. They were just 
 coming out then and were valuable. 
 
 There was a wonderful amount of stove pipe 
 straggling through the interior and centering in a 
 huge drum, and then passing off in some, to me, 
 unknown region. Mr. Geo. Selden, an elder in the 
 church, led the choir. The choir was large, and a 
 man named Virgil made a doleful noise on a bass- 
 viol. Many people came from the country around 
 to this church — the Evanses, Arbuckles, Mc Clel- 
 lans, Davidsons, Norcrosses, Grubbs, Loves, &c., 
 &c. From town came the families of Hays, San- 
 ford, Ilulbert, Sill, Sterrett, Perkins, Brown, Spen- 
 cer, Himrod, Moorhead, Wallace, Hilton, Fluke, 
 and others. An old colored man named Brown sat 
 in the gallery, coughed much during service, and 
 wore a black handkerchief on his head. The lot 
 opposite the church was bare save a little house in 
 which were stored a cannon and some arms belong- 
 ing to the " Erie Artillery." 
 
 We had more military spirit in Erie then than 
 at present. The first Monday in May was "com- 
 pany training," and a week thereafter "general 
 training." That was one of the great days of the 
 year for us boys. The Guards, the Greens, the 
 
le^ OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 
 
 Artillery and the Horse Company were all uni- 
 formed, and then the apparently endless compa- 
 nies of militia, when formed, reached across the Dia- 
 mond from Sanford's to Elliot's. Great tables of 
 gingerbread, with kegs of root beer, met yon at 
 every turn, and everybody was having a good 
 time. We boys generally gathered around the 
 horses decorated with elegant trappings, and held 
 by some colored boys, and waited with such pa- 
 tience as we had until the General and his staff ap- 
 peared ; and then, when in obedience to the com- 
 mands of these men in gorgeous apparel, the fife 
 and drum corps, led by Major Rufiis Clough and 
 Capt. Fitch, in red coats, struck up Washington's 
 March, and the great column commenced to move, 
 as only that column could move — boggling their 
 way through the streets — we, strutting along near 
 the music, as near as we could get and not be 
 trampled upon, with the shivers running up our 
 backs and raising the very thatch upon our heads, 
 wouldn't have given a cent to have exchanged 
 places with the Governor of the Commonwealth. 
 J. From Peach Street to State I can remember but 
 two or three wooden buildings — Beatty's tin shop 
 and Lytle & Hamilton's tailor shop. Upoii State 
 was a brick dwelling house, and sitting upon the 
 seat at the door, with his lame foot crossed upon 
 the other leg, crutch in hand and white cravat 
 about his neck, was Mr. Jno. Warren, the owner 
 of the house. Opposite, and where the Ellsworth 
 
A BOrS WALK AROUND THE DIAMOND. 165 
 
 House now staiKis, was Joshua Beers's great build- 
 ing, afterwards the Eagle tavern. Those two gen- 
 tlemen we meet here are Mr. Robert Cochran, the 
 Postmaster, and Fred. Nichols, his clerk — the last 
 named, dashy, dressy and always followed by a 
 big, black, woolly dog named "Pomp." We turn 
 down the stone steps for a moment and drink at 
 the far-famed spring of Beers's Corner. In coming 
 up we meet those gentlemen, always noticeable 
 and elegant upon the street, Lieut. Ottinger, of the 
 Cutter, and Capt. Douglas, of the brig Virginia. 
 
 The Mansion House, with its fine, old-fashioned 
 front and heavily ornamented balustrades — the 
 chief house of the town — was kept by Mrs. Champ- 
 lin. On Cheapside we had R. 0. Hulbert, Chase, 
 Sill & Co., Gillaspie & Jackson, Aaron Kellogg, S. 
 Brown, Tracy & Harrison, and Tuttle & Hunter. 
 0. Spaiford sold books on French street then as 
 now. The Observer and Gazette were both pub- 
 lished on French street, below Fifth. In front of 
 Sanford's there was a fine row of Lombardy pop- 
 lars. Here are ten or twelve j'oke of oxen moving 
 a building up French street. Royal Freeman has 
 charge of this business in town. I remember well 
 his workmen. They were, to my boyish fancy, 
 hideous looking men. Always where they were 
 at work the air was laden with loud cries and ter- 
 rible profanity. They were the Ku-Klux and buc- 
 caneers of my youthful fancy. 
 
 At Sanford's corner there was a firm known as 
 
166 ■ OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 
 
 the Hadleys, in the dry goods trade. George 
 Moore, a prominent citizen, lived at the corner of 
 French Street and the Diamond. ArchihahLMc- 
 Sparren lived near him, and "Uncle Seth Reed" 
 occupied the old homestead, corner of State street 
 and the Diamond. There he stands upon the cor- 
 ner with theunlighted cigar in his mouth, as usual. 
 Moving along, at a quick, dashing gait, are some 
 of our prominent young men, Andrew Scott, Wil- 
 liam Truesdail, Fitz James Christie and Win. W. 
 Wells. They meet Thomas Henry, Thomas M. 
 Austin, Wm. Dobbins, Jonas Harrison, 0. D. Spaf- 
 ford and John W. Hunter. What is up, that all 
 these "blades" are together to-day? They walk 
 across the Diamond in gleeful, gay conversation, 
 toward the Mansion House. Can you find as jolly 
 a party in Erie to-day ? We are back to the old 
 Stone Tavern, and our walk around the Diamond 
 is ended. 
 
 II. 
 
 A Boy's walk down Sixth Street. 
 
 Once upon a time, Paul and I had been gather- 
 ering chestnuts just over the valley, since occupied 
 by the canal, and I purpose to-day to speak of our 
 walk down Sixth street at that time. Crossing 
 
A BOY'S WALK Dfi WN SIXTH STItEET. 167 
 
 the aforesaid valley, we noticed a gentleman -with 
 a gun, peering cautiously among the thistles and 
 poke-weeds of that region. We stopped until he 
 tired, and then coming up found the Rev. Bennett 
 Glover. He had killed a large black snake — the 
 first we had ever seen. An old wooden house 
 stood upon the east side of the ravine and upon 
 the north side of the street. Who lived there then 
 I do not know, but afterward it was occupied by a 
 colored man named Lawson. 
 
 Some wags of the town long afterward provoked 
 a quarrel between Lawson and another colored 
 man known as "Kettle Smith." The latter always 
 appeared in the street with a wig of white man's 
 hair. A cloak generally covered his ample form. 
 The boys told Lawson that Smith had said that he 
 (Lawson) was not a finished white washer; that he 
 did passably well as an artist upon a board fence 
 or smoke house, but was good for nothing else. 
 
 They also plied Smith diligently with Lawson's 
 alleged statements of Smith's entire incompetency 
 to give a genuine plaster of paris finish to his 
 work, and that he was simply a bungler. They 
 thus succeeded in inflaming the two worthies be- 
 yond measure toward each other. Ramsay, who 
 was engaged at Hart's livery stable, and black Joe 
 Harris, who drove a pair of ponies that hauled the 
 little okl yellow hack of George Reed's temper- 
 ance house, were foremost in fomenting the 
 trouble. So, one day, the men met near the com- 
 
168 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 
 
 missioner's office, each armed with the implements 
 of his trade — lime buckets and long sticks or brush 
 handles. When each spied the other, buckets and 
 brushes were cast to the ground and they "went 
 for each other." "Kettle" was so pleased with the 
 chance for a fight that he lay down quickly upon 
 the ground and rolled over like a big black bear, 
 then jumping to his feet and cracking his heels to- 
 gether, he cast aside his cloak and, shouting, 
 rushed to the fray. Lawson was equally diligent 
 in the approach. They closed and fought like 
 stags. Smith lost his wig in the fight, and both 
 were badly beaten. Lawson exhibited for daj's 
 great purple-black welts under either eya — and 
 Smith's head was carefully done up in white cloths, 
 one jaw largely exceeding the other in size. 
 
 At the time of our walk we cannot remember 
 any other house until we reached the one of brick 
 owned by Thomas King^ Mr. King and Alvay 
 Flynt walked just ahead of us with their rods and 
 bait buckets, on their way to strike the bass. 
 None knew better than they (save perhaps old Ben 
 Fleming) the haunts and habits of this gamiest of 
 our lake fish. So long as they lived they contin- 
 ued to indulge in their favorite sport, and Mr. 
 King went to his death in one of his fishing ex- 
 cursions. He was the father of those well known 
 gentlemen, Josiah King, of the Pittsburgh Gazette, 
 and Wilson and Alfred King of our own city. 
 Benjamin Tomlinson built the brick house adjoin- 
 
A BOY'S WALK DOWN SIXTH STREET. 169 
 
 ing Thomas King's and now oecnpied by John 
 Clemens. The Rev. Bennett Glover occupied the 
 brick house, corner of Sassafras and Sixth streets, 
 west side. Opposite to this was the frame house 
 of George Landen, the chairmaker, whose en- 
 during work may still be seen in many of the 
 houses of the old people throughout the county. 
 He was the father of Daniel G. and A.mos Landen, 
 who are still with us, and of Reuben Landen, a 
 bright and eccentric young man, who is dead. 
 
 Upon the ground occupied by the Jackson 
 house, Giles Sanford, Esq., had a nursery of fruit 
 trees, and when I went to School to David Lloyd 
 and Chester R. Mott in the old yellow meeting- 
 house adjacent, I remember to have seen box- 
 traps in the nursery, placed to snare rabbits. Mr. 
 Sanford was one of the earliest to introduce good 
 fruit into our county, and patiently bore the jeers 
 of certain bucolic gentlemen who scouted much 
 at book farming and "new fangled ideas." He 
 lived to see the triumph of good fruit-raising by 
 the Russells, Osbornes, Leets, etc., of Erie county. 
 Between the nursery and the Episcopal church it 
 was "commons," full of chestnut stumps and open 
 to the cows of the town. 
 
 David Lloyd taught very many of our Erie boys. 
 I can remember and repeat verbatim his prayer of 
 every morning before the labors of teaching. 
 While at his school in the old yellow meeting- 
 house, the last forest tree was cut down in that re- 
 
no OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 
 
 gion. It was near the corner of Seventh and Sas- 
 safras streets. Ropes were attached to guide it 
 straiglitlj in its fall and clear the adjacent houses, 
 and Solomon Walters and Lovett Snell were over- 
 seeing the job. Chester R. Mott read law after his 
 days of teaching, and I think was admitted to the 
 Erie bar. . He had a brother, Dr. L. Mott, who mar- 
 ried Miss Jane Fross, of Seventh street. The old 
 Episcopal church upon Sixth street was small in size 
 then, but was afterward enlarged and did very 
 well for many years, until the Rev. Mr. Spauliling* 
 pushed it over one day an<l erected the present el- 
 egant edifice upon its ruins. Upon a Ciiristmas 
 Eve, within the walls of the old church, I heard 
 the first deep tones of a pipe organ. The church 
 was elegantlj' trimmed with the rich dark greea 
 hemlocks procured from the swampy ground on 
 Parade St. along the line of tlie old French road. 
 I remember the great circle in the centre pendent 
 from the ceiling, heavily massed with evergreens, 
 and thickly set with spermaceti candles, and I re- 
 member to have heard Madden, the sexton, say, 
 that John A. Tracy, Esq., gave the candles used 
 upon that occasion. 
 
 How clearly I can recall all that I saw that night. 
 A deep snow covered the earth — the sleighs drove 
 up amid much gladsome jingling of the bells upon 
 the horses and deposited their ample loads at the 
 
 * Now bishop of Colorado. 
 
A BOY'S WALE DOWN SIXTH STREET. 171 
 
 church door. The pews were filled very soon with 
 rosy young faces, and bright eyes and happy smiles 
 met you at every turn. The gothic-formed fence 
 about the old church was built from the proceeds 
 of an excursion given upon the lake ta Dover in 
 Canada. General Reed and others, owners of the 
 ill-fated steamer Erie, tendered her use upon that 
 occasion. Those who were present will remember 
 the beautiful steamer of elegant model and her 
 pipes of pure white, as they went on board that 
 August Saturday in 1841. The Presqne Isle band 
 were playing on the deck. They Avere all our young 
 townsmen, and all, save Alexander Lamberton and 
 William Wadsworth, doomed in a few hours to 
 find their graves in the lake. And Jolls, and Llo^^d 
 Gilson, and Parmalee, and the Vosburg hoys, and 
 so many others from among us went down to 
 death upon that fatal Monday night succeeding the 
 day of our happy excursion. How well I remem- 
 ber Sam. Motcalf, his long hair streaming in the 
 wind, (his hat had blown overboard) forming the 
 dancers upon deck. 
 
 Opposite the church, and where the Court House 
 now stands, was the county jail, kept then by 
 George L. Wood. Don't you remember his short, 
 burly form and stuttering voice ? The brick house 
 remodeled by John Hearn, adjoining the jail, was 
 built by P. C. Blancan, as Andrew Scott told 
 us in a carrier's address the following New Year's 
 day, something in this way : 
 
172 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 
 
 "And Peter C. Blancan without aid of stream, 
 Grinds grain and saws Inmbei- by virtue of steam, 
 And yet not discoui-aged, tho' panics assail. 
 Erects a fine building just west of the jail." 
 
 James Hoskiuson lived then as now adjoining 
 the churcli, but in the old house, and had tiie same 
 erect form and dignified carriage as to-day The 
 Hon. John Galbraith's kindlj' face could be seen 
 in the office building next east, or the dwelling 
 adjoining. Prior to that, the house was occupied 
 by Mr. Sage and Mr. Norcross. About Eliott'a cor- 
 ner there were sports indulged in by the boys of 
 that neighborhood other than the marble-playing 
 spoken of in a former communication. We have 
 often seen bo3'8 getting over fences in that region 
 with game chickens under their arms, and the 
 view was occasionally varied by seeing some hap- 
 less cur making good time down the Diamond with 
 a tin bucket tied to his tail. Whenever you dis- 
 covered John Douglas, the Eliot boys, Ben Wil- 
 kins and Dave Benson going lively for some alley 
 or barn, with Dent Johns taking long strides in 
 the rear, followed by his dog Drake, you might 
 count on trouble in that quarter. Wm. Eliot died 
 young, and I shall never forget standing by that 
 open grave — the rain falling in torrents — as they 
 laid him away from sight forever. 
 
 There comes Anson Jewett, the butcher ! (Didn't 
 "Drake" get some sausages one day from Jewett's 
 stall?) Jewett went west, became an Associate 
 
A BOY'S WALK DOWN SIXTH STREET. 173 
 
 Judge, and afterwards, returning to Erie, Thomas 
 D — asked him, "Jewett, how did you get to be 
 a Judge? — you know you don't know anything." 
 "Yes I do," said Jewett, "I know enough to keep 
 my mouth shut, and look wise." Between the 
 jail and the Diamond was the frame house occupied 
 by Dr. William Johns and afterward by Captain 
 Thomas Wilkins. It has but recently been taken 
 away. 
 
 Before we cross the Diamond let us enter once 
 more the old church of Dr. Lyon, which wo at- 
 tempted to picture in a former communication in 
 the Observer. We spent some long Sundays there 
 in our youthful days. Commencing when the " first 
 bell" rang in the morning to "get ready," by 11 
 o'clock the last lick had been given to the hair and 
 shoes, and we joined the throng for the old church. 
 The Ei)iscopalians seemed to our youthful eyes to 
 march rather stiffly across the Diamond from Beat- 
 ty's tin shop to Eliot's corner, and the few Baptists 
 seemed timidly to hug the curb-stone to avoid col- 
 lision with our more solid ranks. The people from 
 the country round about were on hand betimes, 
 and standing about the door comparing notes as to 
 the weather, the crops, and the cases of sickness in 
 their neighborhoods. Standing among them I can 
 see old David Wallace with his brown coat thickly 
 be-sprinkled with the hairs of the grey horse he 
 has ridden in to church. Marching straight into 
 our pew we were seated between the elders and 
 
nj^ OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 
 
 began to use our eyes. It was very still and solemn 
 within. The people soon began to enter — the fam- 
 ilies of Andrew and John Norcross, Samuel Love, 
 Giles and Hamlin Russell, Arbuckle, Evans, the 
 Davidsons, Robert Sterrett, etc. Then came Steph- 
 en Grubb and family. All these and many more 
 came from the country. Some of you will remem- 
 ber who it was that always wore the "squeaky" 
 boots. Then came the families of Samuel Hays, 
 H. Bates, Sherwood, Dr. Perkins, Hilton, Dr. Wal- 
 lace, the Bonnells, A. E. Foster, Dr. Hill, Mc- 
 Culloughs, Shepards, Wights, Clinton George, Dr. 
 Vosburg, Laws, Lytles, Flukes, Williams, Seldens, 
 Kelloggs, Hulberts, Sanfords, Sills, Himrods, Ster- 
 retts, George Reed, the Misses Field and Cook, 
 Riddles, etc., etc. James M. Sterrett generally 
 hung his hat upon the post in his double pew be- 
 fore taking bis seat. 
 
 Then came the pastor, Dr. Lyon, perhaps ac- 
 companied by the burly form of the Rev. Nathan- 
 iel West. Then all would be still for a mioment^ — 
 then old John Brown would cough that dreadful 
 cough in the gallery. We look about and see that 
 all the congregation are in their places. If there 
 was an occasional stranger rather more stylish than 
 our people he was a New York merchant remain- 
 ing over Sunday in the town. Occasionally we 
 would see some ladies that were visitors at our 
 pastor's, from Carlisle, and the present Judge Mar- 
 vin and others of his father's excellent family were 
 
A BOTS WALK DOWN SIXTH STREET. 175 
 
 often visitors at Mr. Selden's, and came of course 
 to churcli. At length, the hist listener being in 
 his place, the pastor saj-s, "Let us look to God 
 for his blessing." Then came the singing as 
 we have before described, and the sermon fol- 
 lowed apace. As the sermon progressed we often 
 settled away in our seat and our ej-es would rest 
 upon certain hap-hazard pencil marks upon the 
 pew in front, resolving them into a row of Indian 
 wigwams with smoke ascending from the roof of 
 one, until form and outline were lost and all be- 
 came, a glimmer and haze, and our eyelids closed. 
 Then there was a blank to us of greater or less 
 duration until a gentle touch upon the foot aroused 
 us in time to hear the pastor say, " Finally, my 
 brethren, we may learn from this subject," etc. 
 
 In cold weather, after receiving the benediction 
 and in passing out of the church, Mr. Selden, who 
 was Superintendent of the Sunday school, would 
 call out repeatedly to those in the gallery to close 
 the doors, and keep the cold air from rushing in 
 from the lower hall. The hungry little fellows 
 would then pile up stairs to Sunday school. About 
 this time I was in the class of Mr. J. C. Spencer, 
 and I remember when he went away on his bridal 
 tour we had a new teacher assigned us that we 
 did not like so well. I went to the old church when 
 the contractor, Mr. Hampson, was tearing it away. 
 I walked into the old pew and took a last look at 
 my Indian wigwams before they were consigned 
 
176 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 
 
 to the rubbish heap. But the old church is gone. 
 The pastor sleeps with very many of bis people 
 and we will speak of it no more. 
 
 We cross the Diamond. Just ahead of us walks 
 a little short man in a round-about, with a promi- 
 nent nose. He carries a pot of paint in one hand 
 and some brushes displayed in the otlier, like the 
 arrows in the claw of the legendary American bird. 
 "We all know " Tommy VVilkie." A carriage 
 passes, and inside we see Anthony W. Wasson, 
 Sherburn Smytb and William Boatty. There is a 
 ball at North East to-night. Standing near San- 
 ford's corner are two groups of men. The one 
 consists of Giles Russell, William Himrod, James 
 M. Moorhead and William Gray. The known 
 principles of the men and the quiet earnestness of 
 their conversation indicate the nearness of some 
 fugitive slave. They are the agents of the under- 
 ground railroad in Erie county. In the other 
 group we notice E. D. Gunnison, R. 0. Hulbert, 
 Myron Hutchinson and Mark Baldwin. If the 
 records of this county bearing the signatures of 
 these men were destroyed, there would be chaos 
 indeed. Honest workers in their day and genera- 
 tion, they have now all passed away. The large 
 frame house, broadside to the street, and in front 
 of which is the fine row of Lombardy poplars, is 
 occupied by Mrs. Hereford and daughters. Then 
 follow in order the houses owned and occupied by 
 E. D. Gunnison, Wm. Kelley and Thomas Moor- 
 
A BOY'S WALK DOWN SIXTH STREET. 177 
 
 head. Across the street are Dr. Coltrin's house, 
 the house and shop of Charles Lay, the tinner, and 
 the residence of Mrs. Pierce. We re-cross the 
 street and find the lots west of the home of the 
 Hon. Thomas H. Sill open as commons. Upon 
 this open space the traveling shows of the time 
 were wont to pitch their tents. The writer can re- 
 member the great menagerie of " Friday, Sept. 4th, 
 1835," at this place, and the remark he heard so 
 many times that day, " There are more people in 
 Erie to-day than upon any other day since La- 
 Fayette was here." 
 
 The little building next the common is the law 
 office of the Hon. Thomas H. Sill, who had re- 
 cently represented this district in Congress. He 
 was the father of James Sill, Esq., and was known 
 as an earnest, able and dignified gentleman. In 
 Miss Sanford's fine history of Erie county you will 
 find an exact likeness of Mr. Sill as the writer re- 
 members him. Halting for a moment to look with- 
 in the open door of a smithy, corner of Holland and 
 Sixth, two men pass lis, one loquacious, wearing 
 goggles and carrying a staff, the other of large 
 frame, sedate appearance, swinging the right 
 arm and lifting the feet in a peculiar manner. 
 They are Major Eufus Clough, of Clough's Hill, 
 and Robert Kincaid, who keeps the land light- 
 house. Paul and I sit down upon the Mill Creek 
 bridge, where we come often to fish for chubs. 
 Old Sam Harris comes along headed for his little 
 
178 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 
 
 cabin up the bank of the creek. He i8, as usual, 
 under the influence of liquor, but he will not at- 
 tempt to harm us, unless we insist that the great 
 eclipse of the sun was not in 1806. Do that and 
 you make for yourself trouble. The brick house 
 on the top of the hill belongs to J. Brown Laugh- 
 ead once the Burgess of the town. Looking 
 south there are no buildings in the valley save 
 George Moore's saw-mill, Mira Gates's cabin and a 
 slaughter-house, until you reach the yellow house 
 of David Mc Lane on French near Twelfth street. 
 Below us nothing save Reed's grist-mill until we 
 reach the old saw-mill where Mill Creek enters the 
 lake. 
 
 III. 
 
 A Boy's walk down State Street. 
 
 Paul and I had been fishing down Ichabod Eun 
 for chubs, where we often caught trout as well, and 
 had stopped at the Turnpike Koad bridge to rest. 
 The cheerful and pleasant sound of bells fell upon 
 our ears, and, looking towards Federal Hill, we no- 
 ticed one of those immense Conestoga wagons, bow- 
 topped and covered with canvas, drawn by six 
 horses, coming leisurely down the street. The 
 bells were in iron arches over the hames or saddles 
 
' A BOY'S WALK DOWN STATE STREET. 179 
 
 of the horses, and upon the wheel horse sat Theo- 
 dore Bailey, his blacksnake whip over his shoulder, 
 a single line in his hand reaching to the head of 
 the leading horse, and his body swaying easily, and 
 not ungracefully, with the motion of the horse he 
 rode. He teamed between Erie and Pittsburgh, 
 and lived in a log house on Sassafras, near Fifth 
 street. In that day, many of the farmers of Mill- 
 creek and Fairview, who had migrated hither from 
 Northumberland, Dauphin and Lancaster, came 
 here with their large blue-bodied wagons, having 
 a little box on either side fastened with an iron 
 hasp, an immense feed-trough across the hind end, 
 and always a tar-bucket swinging beneath the 
 hind axletree. Five and six horses were attached 
 to those great wagons, and there was leather enough 
 in the harness of one of those horses to have made 
 a complete outfit for the remaining five, in the 
 style of the present day. The Heidlers, Kaufmans, 
 Stoughs, Wises, Wolfs, Hersheys, Longs and 
 Bears, with many others, came from the lower part 
 of the State and were among the best citizens of 
 our county. 
 
 At the time we mention, the land between Icha- 
 bod Run and the present railroad track was an 
 open, field, not a house upon it. The wagons that 
 came to the political conventions, Sept. 10, 1840, 
 were many of them parked in that field. The prop- 
 erty passed into the hands of Milton Courtright 
 and was sub-divided and sold by John P. Vincent, 
 
180 OLD TTME8 IN ERIE. 
 
 Esq., Lis attoi-ney. Across the way was the old 
 homestead and mill of the McJSTair family. Peach 
 street, and all west of the junction with State, and 
 down to Twelfth, was swampy, low, and covered 
 with hemlocks. Near the junction was the Mc- 
 Nair brewery, an old building, at this time prop- 
 ped up with posts. A thicket of hemlocks, cover- 
 ed with wild grape-vines, stood across the street 
 from the brewery. There was not a house -upon 
 "the gore", but it was covered with second growth 
 hemlocks, some beeches, and a few large chestnuts. 
 Some large sycamores stood in the Mill Creek val- 
 ley. The spirit of speculation was abroad soon af- 
 ter, and we heard the widow Munn, who lived near 
 the corner of State and Twelfth, say that she would 
 take twelve thousand dollars for her lot, and the 
 price was not deemed exorbitant. 
 
 Samuel "W. Keefer kept tavern then at his old 
 stand, now occupied by Robert 0. Hills.* Kitty, 
 a girl living at Keefer's, sold us many a horse and 
 deer made of gingei'-bread, as she walked up and 
 down the street with her ample basket upon her 
 arm. At the southeast corner of State and 
 Eleventh streets^ the lot was occupied by Plynt's 
 mill-dam and the old red fulling-mill, and good 
 honest, homespun cloth was on the tenters beside 
 the dam. The old furnace, diagonally across the 
 steeet from the dam, was managed by Johnson, 
 
 * The present Liebel House. 
 
A BOTS WALE DOWN STATE STREET. 181 
 
 Sennett & Co., and the old-fashioned plows, with 
 wood work freshly painted red and blue, stood 
 thickly in front. Those two men upon the pave- 
 ment are Major James Gray and Mr. Wing, and 
 the men in the wagon with whom they are con- 
 versing are Dr. Thayer and Mr. Gingrich, all re- 
 siding at Federal Hill. The house opposite the 
 furnace is occupied by Alvay Flynt. 
 
 A. ravine crossed State street, near Tenth, as you 
 may yet see by looking at the lots in the rear of 
 the old Hays mansion. On the corner of Tenth 
 and State was a neat log house occupied (I think) by 
 the family of Jonah Cowgill, and next it was a little 
 smithshop occupied by a Frenchman. At the cor- 
 ner of Mnth, upon the site of the present Cottage 
 House,* there was a large log house. Remus Bald- 
 win lived there at that time. Near this corner 
 stood John Teel and Simeon Dunn, and they 
 were speaking of the cost of filling in and making 
 Peach street passable from Twelfth to Turkey 
 Ridge. Between Ninth and Eighth, east side, were 
 two small wooden buildings — one still standing. 
 One was occupied by Mrs. Graves, tailoress, and 
 here we boys had our heavy clothes cut, and car- 
 ried them home to be made by our mothers. Be- 
 low was a brick house occupied by David Burton. 
 Corner of Eighth was a wooden building sometimes 
 used as a school house, wherein Miss Burton, Mrs. 
 
 * Where the Humboldt Bank and Cohen's building now 
 stand. 
 
182 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 
 
 Hays, and Murray Whalon, Esq., taught the chil- 
 dren of the town. Opposite was Laird's Tavern, 
 kept by Thomas Laird, once Sheriff of the county, 
 and a prominent citizen. I think a man named 
 Mc Claskey succeeded Mr. Laird as landlord. 
 
 Some ladies are turning up Eighth street 
 with small tin buckets in their hands. They 
 are going to the Mineral Spring just opened 
 near the canal by Mr. Glazier. This was a place 
 much frequented for a time. The remainder 
 of the block above Laird's Tavern was an orchard, 
 much resorted to on Saturday afternoons by the 
 boys of the town. Between Laird's and Seventh 
 street were the cabinet shops of A. & H. P. Mehaf- 
 fey, McNutt & Mains, and the brick house occupied 
 as a residence by Dr. Chauncey F. Perkins. In the 
 block across the street were the blacksmith shop of 
 Jas. Liddell, the paint shop of Sherwood & Glazier 
 and the residence of A. Sherwood. James Hughes 
 occupied the solitary brick, cornerof Seventh, with 
 dry-goods. In the rear of it, and fronting on 
 Seventh street, was an old tumble-down building of 
 brick. Opposite this was the barn of the old Stone 
 Tavern. In front of the barn stands Ed. CoWgill, 
 Hiram Van Tassell, "Whack" Snaverly and Fred 
 Weirs, "talking horse." The little fellow just 
 passing us, in swallow tail coat and silk hat set 
 jauntily on the side of his head, walking quickly 
 and with a certain air of promptness, is Billy Rob- 
 inson, Captain of the Erie Guards. Between Seventh 
 
A SOrS WALK DOWN STATE STREET. 18S 
 
 street and the Stone Tavern are the dry-gooda stores 
 of P. & W. M. Arbuckle and AVilliam A. Brown. 
 In front of the tavern stands a man with one hand 
 on a staff and the palm of the other hand raised and 
 turned toM-ardsthe pei-son addressed, the head aht- 
 tle aside — an earnest, elderly looking face — they 
 call him Dash Martin. He is talking to Joseph 
 Deemer and Jonathan Baird. Across the street, in 
 front of Seth Reed's house, are Alexander "W. Brews- 
 ter, Thomas Mehaffey and William Fleming, men 
 very prominent in the business of Erie, long con- 
 nected with each other in a business way, and each 
 of whom had filled the executive office of the 
 county. We cross the Diamond. The court house 
 bell is ringing for Quarter Sessions. Can any one 
 who has ever heard that bell forget its clear, sil- 
 very tones ? ;Made in London and carrying that 
 mark upon it — it was brought to this country and 
 placed upon one of the British vessels [1 think the 
 Queen Charlotte) — was captured by Commodore 
 Perry, and, I have heard it said, was carried by 
 George Loijau upon his brawny shoulders from the 
 Navy Yard to the Court House to be used upon 
 our chief county building. Shame upon the vandals 
 who destroyed it ! I always think they were the 
 same who burned the old Block House on Garrison 
 Hill. Judge Eldred, old Judge Vincent and Judge 
 Grnbb, with the members of the bar and others, 
 were entering the Court House. I will not at- 
 tempt to speak of them now. It is about time for 
 
18 Jt OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 
 
 the formation of our Historical Society. When 
 that is done, some member of the bar will give us 
 an exhaustive paper upon the Bench and Bar of 
 the County. 
 
 The old brick building adjoining the Court House 
 had brick floors dovru stairs. To the right, as you 
 entered, the sign upon the door was Prothonotary's 
 Oflice, and to the left Commissioners' Office, neatly 
 done in script. William Kelley was Prothonotary 
 and Edward Emery was his deputy. James Skin- 
 ner was Commissioner's clerk. There was a vault 
 in connection with each office. Let us suppose, for 
 this portion of our walk, the time to be 1840. We 
 pass up stairs and find in one office Thomas 
 Moorhead, Register and Eecorder. ISexi door 
 is Gideon J. Bail, Justice of the Peace. Oppo- 
 site Ball's office is a room occupied by sevei'al 
 persons. One of them stands in a long linen 
 coat with broad lappels, his thumb in waist- 
 coat, a Leghorn hat bent down in front and cov- 
 ering one eye. This is Andrew Scott, the Sheriff 
 The young man in fair hair and full suit of gray 
 clothes is Samuel A. Law, Esq., — the third, with 
 bui'ly form, is Wm. M. Watts, elected the previous 
 fall with Samuel Hutchins, of Waterford, to the 
 legislature. The fourth room is occupied by Moses 
 Billings, the artist. We look in the open door and 
 see him at work upon a banner representing a 
 half dozen bloodhounds in a row, upon their 
 haunches, with red mouths and glaring eyes, and 
 
A BOY'S WALK DOWN STATE STREET. 185 
 
 underneath the inscription, "Van Buren's Florida 
 Warriors." The gentlemen we meet in coming 
 out are Alfred and Edgar Huidekoper. They are 
 always here at Quarter Sessions attending to sales 
 of land of the old Holland Land Company. 
 
 The queer-looking man with saffron-colored face, 
 cane in one hand and strips of bark and herbs in 
 the other, who emphasizes his quick, jerky, mum- 
 bled words with a wavy movement of the hand con- 
 taining his herbs, and a swaying to and fro of his 
 body, and who is accompanied by his gaunt, un- 
 gainly-looking son, is Dr. Gotham, one of the her- 
 mits of the Raven Woods. His neighbors are John 
 Kelley, John Cue and Mary Figs. There is a gen- 
 tleman ahead of us we remember to have often 
 seen in the street, always walking at a slow, meas- 
 ured pace, dressed in blue cloth, and wearing, 
 whenever the season would warrant, an overcoat of 
 the same color. His left hand is behind his back, 
 ,and in it he carries always a red figured bandana 
 handkerchief. In his right hand he carries a cane, 
 the leather thong passing through it looped over 
 the back of his hand and the cane carelessly swing- 
 ing to and fro. He wears spectacles of colored glass. 
 His name is Brooks. We stand a moment at John 
 Warren's corner. Corning from the west, is a little 
 old man with basket on arm, carrying a cane which 
 he seems to use as a feeler in front of him. His eye- 
 brows are arched and heavy, and he moves in a gin- 
 gerly sort of way. This is Joseph Cratz,Esq., and 
 
186 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 
 
 he is going straight to Smith Jackson's store, and 
 will take a seat in front of the stove upon a low 
 hickorj' chair, with a seat made of splits of the same 
 wood, and read the papers of the day. Owning 
 some of the hest property here at one time, he was 
 unfortunate, lost all, and died in poverty and ob- 
 scurity. He, too, lived in that early home and ref- 
 uge for the friendless, the Kaven Woods. 
 
 There was a large yellow barn below Beers's cor- 
 ner, afterwards connected with the Eagle Tavern. 
 Judge Sterrett lived then as now in his brick house 
 upon State street. Just south of it, in 1840, stood 
 the Log Cabin, and here the Whigs met once a week 
 during that great campaign, some one with strong 
 lungs blowing the long tin horn to assemble the 
 faithful. John H. Walker, Elijah Babbitt and 
 Charles W. Kelso were the standing speakers. A 
 birch bark canoe was on the top of the cabin, and a 
 flag pole passed up through the centre of the build- 
 ing bearing a banner inscribed " Harrison and Ty- 
 ler. A protective tariff and no reduction of wages." 
 Hard cider was generally on draught in the corner 
 of the room — John Lytle furnishing refreshments 
 for the brethren. Caricatures of Van Buren, Ken- 
 dall, Woodbury, Price and Blair were on the walls. 
 John D. Haverstick was President of the Tippe- 
 canoe Club, and sat in a queer chair, made of 
 natural crooks from the woods. 
 
 James Williams's dwelling house was on the cor- 
 ner of Fourth street. There was a fine garden attach- 
 
A BOY'S WALK DOWN STATE STREET. 187 
 
 ed to tMs pleasant home. Approaching us from the 
 direction of the lake is another little old man 
 ringing a hand bell with great method and regular- 
 ity. He has rather a solemn-looking face and up- 
 on nearing the- corner he takes the bell by the 
 clapper and announces in a loud, but rather indis- 
 tinct voice, that there will be an auction sale this 
 evening, at early candlelight, at the auction room 
 of Henry Clark, upon French street, and after giv- 
 ing an inventory of the wares to be sold he invites 
 all to come, " including old women and abolition- 
 ists." This man was Dr.. Randall. His cry is imita- 
 ted by the idle boys of the neigborhood who gather 
 about him, but turning quickly, he shuffles with his 
 feet, the boys scatter and the Dr. starts again his 
 weary round. The old brick building, used by Mr. 
 Pelton as a marble shop, was then occupied as a 
 dwelling by John Riddle, Esq. Capt, Daniel Dob- 
 bins lived in the house corner of Third street, and 
 might be seen upon the street any day when the 
 Revenue Cutter, which he commanded, was in 
 port. His aged widow and his son, Capt. Wm. 
 Dobbins, still reside in the old homestead. Dr. Ja- 
 cob Vosburg lived in the frame dwelling on the op- 
 posite corner. Gen. Reed occupied the three story 
 brick dwelling next below for many years. Edwin 
 J. Kelso lived in the brick house upon the corner 
 below, and in a frame house upon the bank of the 
 lake lived the widow of John Kelso, Esq. Across 
 the street and also upon the bank of the lake lived 
 
188 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 
 
 P. S. V. Haraot, Esq. The fine grassy ground in 
 front of Mr. Hamot's house* was much more ex- 
 tensive than now, and was the fashionable prom- 
 enade of the town. 
 
 TV. 
 
 Old French Street and Presque Isle Bay. 
 
 Our walk to-day is suggestive of the earliest 
 white occupants of our soil. The name of the 
 street we shall talk about, and the name of the bay, 
 is all that is left us as a reminder of that band of 
 co-workers who simultaneously raised upon our 
 shore the cross and the lilies of France. We might 
 have perpetuated their names in our parks, our 
 streams and our streets, but there was such an ab- 
 sence of a sense of "the fitness of things" with 
 the earlier settlers, that our creeks must be known 
 as "Four Mile," " Six Mile," &c.; and again in our 
 streets the numerals must intervene, First, Second, 
 &c. Indeed the Yankee in this region should be 
 painted with slate in hand, and arithmetic under 
 arm. The same poverty of names still exists. The 
 city, county and lake must have the same name, 
 and the prefix " Erie " must come with bank, cem- 
 etery, iron foundry, forge, and so on, "ad nauseam." 
 
 * This place is now the Hamot Hospital. 
 
OLD FRENCH STEEET AND PRESQUE ISLE BAY. 189 
 
 When I was a boy, the enjoyable walk was al- 
 ways on the bank of the lake. There was then no 
 railroad to visit — the park was destitute of tree or 
 fountain. Afterward the mineral spring at Eighth 
 street, and the packet-boat landing at the same 
 place, and the opening, years later, of the ceme- 
 tery, drew a portion of our people in another direc- 
 tion for their afternoon and evening walks, but the 
 masses went at all times to the bank of the lake. 
 Here, to one standing on the shore of Presque Isle 
 Bay at the foot of French street, on a beautiful after- 
 noon of many years ago, the slight breeze from the 
 west, which fills the sails of the small craft upon the 
 bay, brings to the ear the sound of falling waters 
 from the miniature cascade of Lee's Run, as it emp- 
 ties into the lake. A solitary canoe with a single 
 occupant is headed for the beacon light. The out- 
 line of the figure in the stern and the peculiar stroke 
 of the paddle betoken the presence of Old Ben. 
 A goodly number of black bass may as well say 
 good-bye as they come into Presque Isle Bay to- 
 day. It is very quiet about the dock. A few loads 
 of steamboat wood are passing over the public 
 bridge, and a farmer is loading a barrel of salt in 
 his wagon at one of the shore warehouses. Thomas 
 Horton and his men are calking a fish-boat and 
 mending a seine at the foot of French street. The 
 shore of the bay toward the mouth of Mill Creek 
 has a fringe of bushes and trees. 
 
 Off to the east the smoke of the old steamer. 
 
190 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 
 
 North America, which has just left the harbor, is 
 seen. The Block House looms up grandly on Gar- 
 rison Hill, and the reflectors of the shore light- 
 house glisten in the sun. Down there near the 
 mouth of Mill Creek the French had their fort and 
 settlement away back in 1749, with its bastions, 
 chapel, guard-house, surgeon's lodgings, command- 
 ant's houses, &c., and the soldiers, stationed here 
 for many years, welcomed their comrades as they 
 drew their bateaux upon the beach at the mouth of 
 Mill Creek, after their weary journey from Quebec 
 and Montreal, and bade them rest for awhile before 
 taking up their march out (what is now Parade 
 street) upon the old French road to River au Bceuf 
 (Waterford), called by the Indiana Casewago, or 
 still further to Venango or Du Queane. 
 
 De la Roche and Braboeuf, clad in the vestments 
 of their holy orders, often raised the voice of suppli- 
 cation on this spot, and amid the throng of worship- 
 ers down at old Fort Presque Isle stood such men 
 as Morang, Derpontency, De Ligenrie and Legar- 
 deur de St. Pierre, Knights of the order of St. 
 Louis, surrounded by the soldiers of France and the 
 curious faces of their savage allies, the natives of 
 the soil. In a few years these banks had British 
 occupants, and " the meteor flag of England " sup- 
 planted the banner of France, and in place of the 
 Jesuit fathers, their Indian allies and the French 
 troops, here in August, 1764, runners were passing 
 over the old French road from Col. Bradsteet, en- 
 
OLD FRENGE STREET AND PRESQUE ISLE BAT. 191 
 
 camped at Presque Isle, and sent to Gen. Gage to 
 co-operate with that grand soldier, Col. Boquet, who 
 was marching westward from Du Queane to give 
 the Indians a sounder thrashing than they had yet 
 received. 
 
 A party of Indians sent by the Shawnese and 
 Delawaresmet Bradstreet at Presque Isle, and made 
 a treacherous treaty with him while their tribes 
 were preparing to fight Col. Boquet. Again long 
 years passed away, and in 1795 another flag was 
 raised here by that noble old Pennsylvanian, An- 
 thony Wayne. That flag still flies at Presque Isle. 
 The next year Mad Anthony "Wayne ended his 
 stormy life and_was buried on the banks of Presque 
 Isle Bay. He had forced peace with the Indians ; 
 and then came civilization to Presque Isle with 
 Eeed, Miles, King, Reese, Cochran, Foster, Dobbins, 
 Colt, Kelso, Stewart, Wilson, Duncan, Irvin and 
 others in the van, and then we had streets and 
 squares laid out, and they called it Erie. An an- 
 cestor of mine on arriving here in 1800 met Judah 
 Colt among the trees of what is now the Park, and 
 asked him how far it was to Presque Isle. " Why, 
 bless you, man," said he, "you are right in the 
 heart of the city." From that time until about 
 thirty years ago the street of the town was French 
 street. If you wanted to find Reed or Hamot, 
 Colt, Foster, Duncan or Knox, you must go down 
 on French street. The post office, the Bank, the 
 
192 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 
 
 printing office, the court house, the inns, the acad- 
 emy and the stores were all on French street. 
 
 But a very few years had passed after the settle- 
 ment of the town, when, from our stand-point here 
 on the bank of the lake, the sound of martial music 
 was again heard, and the ti'amp of armed men 
 resounded along Presque Isle Bay. Down there 
 just across Mill Creek, on the sand beach, is en- 
 camped Tannehill's Brigade. A company of our 
 Erie men are with them. Next to the lake is Col. 
 Purviance's regiment. Upon the east is Irvin's; 
 Snider's is on the south, and Col. Piper's on the 
 west. They marched away to Buffalo on the 
 morning of Nov. 7th, 1812. ITotwithstanding the 
 miserable failure of Gen. Smythe's campaign, and 
 the terrible demoralization of Tannehill's Brigade, 
 not an Erie man deserted his flag. Then the next 
 season, from the west, we hear the sound of an 
 hundred axes and the crash of falling trees. Perry's 
 fleet is building at the Cascade and the Navy Yard. 
 You know its history. And then, after the battle, 
 we had the actors all here. Some who read these 
 words will remember standing where we now stand 
 and seeing Commodore Perry, with the wounded 
 Englishman, Commodore Barclay, leaning upon 
 his breast, and Gen. Harrison and all the others, 
 coming up the hill at the foot of French street and 
 going to Duncan's, corner of French and Third; 
 and then followed the sound of canuon, the illumin- 
 ation, the procession, the transparencies, &c. 
 
OLD FEENCH STREET AND PRE8QUE ISLE BAT. 193 
 
 What a winter they had on Prench street, that 
 winter of 1813-14. One wounded English officer, 
 named Knight, whose wife came to him, did enjoy 
 comparative quiet during the winter by going to 
 Thomas Laird's Inn, "wear Erie," — corner of State 
 and Eighth streets. That terrible suicide of Purser 
 Magrath, at Duncan's, will be remembered, and 
 some ladies who read this will not forget how Miss 
 
 D took them up stairs and showed them the 
 
 blood upon the wall so long, long after the event. 
 And the hanging at the yard arm over there in Mis- 
 ery Bay, and the shooting of Bird for desertion, and 
 then the duel, at the corner of Third and Sassafras 
 streets, between Senat, the young Frenchman, and 
 Mc Donald, all about the buttons and the carving 
 of the beef at Cummins's. Poor Senat fell at the 
 second fire, and was buried just there where he 
 
 fell, and Kitty sat down " and cried, and 
 
 cried." 
 
 Some gentlemen are standing to our left as we 
 face the lake. One is speaking and making ges- 
 tures to the others with his arms, descriptive of 
 the locality. They are attentive listeners. The 
 speaker is Dr. Peter Christie, of the IsTavy, and the 
 others are Thomas Gr. Colt, Capt. W. W. Dobbins, 
 Capt. Homans, of the Army, and Dr. J. Benjamin 
 Stout. Jimmy and Martha Homans are playing 
 nearer the bank with a large Newfoundland dog, the 
 first I remember to have seen. Dr. Christie then 
 lived in his pleasant, vine-covered residence on Sec- 
 
194 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 
 
 oud street, Dr. Stout had rooms over the Erie Bank, 
 on the Diamond, and Capt. Homans lived in John 
 Teel's house, corner of Ninth and Peach streets. 
 Capt. Dobbins is giving some account of French 
 street in the early days. We draw near and listen, 
 and give you some of the items of interest. On 
 the beach, at the foot of French street, was the- 
 warehouse of Thomas Wilson, built of logs in 
 1807. Between Second street and the lake were 
 several log houses. The largest was occupied, 
 before 1800, by Thomas Eees, and here Louis 
 Phillip and his friends remained for some days, the 
 guests of Mr. Rees, who entertained them hospita- 
 bly and sent a guide with the party to Canandaigua. 
 Dr. Wallace had an office in Eees's House. John 
 Hay lived in one of those houses, and into another 
 Robert Vosburg moved when he came to Erie in 
 1818. 
 
 Y 
 
 Old French Street and Presque Isle Bay. 
 
 Upon the northeast corner of French and Second 
 streets there was a log house occupied by Mrs. 
 Catharine O'Neil. A high bridge extended on Sec- 
 ond, between French and State streets. The south- 
 
OlD FRENCH STREET AND PRE8QUE ISLE BAY. 195 
 
 east corner of French and Second was Dickson's 
 in 1815. Dickson came to Erie in 1809, had been 
 a sailor, and was generally engaged in the lake 
 trade. In his house the dinner was prepared which 
 was given to La Fayette and suite under the 
 bower on the Second street bridge. " The Mirror," 
 the first newspaper in Erie, was issued from Dick- 
 son's corner by Mr. Wyeth from Dauphin county. 
 In front-of Dickson's house, it is said, was placed 
 the first brick pavement laid in Erie. Just east of 
 Dickson's was the two-story log store of Thomas 
 Wilson. Wilson was a man of much prominence 
 in Erie, was Burgess, Prothonotary and member of 
 Congress from this district. He owned four slaves 
 — one (old Kitty) is alive to-day (1874) in the county 
 almshouse. The family are all dead save Thomas, 
 the well-known deaf mute. P. S. V. Hamot com- 
 menced selling goods here with Mr. Wilson. A 
 brother of the proprietor named John also clerked 
 here. 
 
 Opposite Dickson's west was the well-known 
 Cummins Tavern. It was a large building. John 
 Henry of Waterford and James Moore worked 
 upon this building. It was certainly erected as 
 early as 1803 ; some say at an earlier date. Oapt. 
 John Cummins was an army officer and kept this 
 house for more than a score of years. Mrs. David 
 Kennedy was a daughter of Capt. Cummins, and 
 when but five years old fell from the Second street 
 bridge and was picked up for dead by her 
 
196 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 
 
 brother Samuel. Cummins's barn was burned 
 during a session of Court and a number of valua- 
 ble horses belonging to Judges and jurors, includ- 
 ing one owned by Sheriff" Carmack, perished in the 
 fire. Old Charley Logan fired the building accident- 
 ally from a lantern. Old Charley was the servant of 
 Colonel Chambers, of revolutionary fame, and 
 died in February 1827, aged 95. He was the father 
 of Bristo, George and Peter Logan. Once, in 
 March, 1800, there was a time of great scarcity of 
 provisions in Erie. The garrison was reduced to 
 three loaves of bread, when Capt. Cummins arrived 
 from Meadvilie with pack horses laden with flour. 
 Just south of Cummins's was the Knox House, 
 used by Robert Knox as a dwelling, store and post- 
 office. It was of logs. In front was a great tree 
 bole, known as " the lying block," celebrated in 
 story and song in the local papers of the present 
 day. 
 
 South of Knox's, and very near the corner of 
 Third and French streets, was a log house built in 
 1804 and owned by Conrad Brown. It is said the 
 first Court held in Erie county was organized in 
 this building. A man named Culbertson kept 
 tavern here after the war. He had worked as a 
 hatter for John Morris. Directly east and oppo- 
 site was the house known as Duncan's in 1812 and 
 subsequently known as Buehler, Eees & Mc Con- 
 key's. John McElroy and John Warren built 
 this house. John Warren came here in 1800. 
 
OLD FRENCH STREET AND PRE8QUE ISLE BAY. 197 
 
 During the war it was the headquarters of Commo- 
 dore Perry and General Harrison. Commodore 
 Perry's room was on the south side, second story. 
 Here Purser Magrath committed suicide. Oppo- 
 site and south of Duncan's was a two-story house of 
 logs occupied by Capt. Eough, a Scotchman. Capt. 
 Eough sailed the schooner Mary in 1809 in the 
 salt trade. John Eiddell had a law office in or 
 near this building in 1823. Opposite and west 
 of Eough's stands a brick house built by Peter 
 Grawoss. He was a stone mason and kept a bil- 
 liard saloon. Just west of this house was one of 
 logs, occupied by Eobert Knox as store and post- 
 office prior to the erection of his house on French 
 street. Midway between Third and Fourth streets 
 and on the west side of French was the famous 
 Old Eed Store and warehouse of Eeed. Giles San- 
 ford, Stephen Wolverton, William "W. Eeed and 
 Thomas Forster clerked for Mr. Eeed. "Old Judd" 
 preached there occasionally. Camp started the 
 Academy in the old store, and here the Presbyter- 
 ians organized the first Sunday School in 1821. 
 Miss Elizabeth Eees was one of the teachers. It 
 seemed to have been a "broad church" affiiir, for 
 one scholar (at least) was allowed to learn and re- 
 peat her Eoraan Catholic catechism. 
 
 Opposite the Eed Store was a two story log house 
 which in 1812 was known as Dickson's Tavern. 
 It was built by a German named Lehman in 1808. 
 Cowgill, the old Quaker, afterwards lived there. 
 
198 OLD TIMES IN EBIE. 
 
 and died in 1822 aged 76. Capt. M. Connor had 
 a sail-maker's shop here after the war. Just south 
 of this house was one — long, low and built of logs 
 — concerning which I have no information. The 
 next south was a shoe store kept by William 
 Fleming in 1850. The house next south of the 
 Eed Store was a small one occupied by Eobert 
 Vosburg, barber, prior to 1840. The next south 
 was known as the Clement House. Com. Deacon 
 resided there and Dr. Christie of the navy followed. 
 Josiah Kellogg lived there in 1818. The post- 
 office was in this building as late as 1836. N"ext 
 south was the ofiice of Waugh, a lawyer with a 
 crippled hand. 
 
 Upon the northwest corner of French and Fourth 
 streets was Hamot's store. Before Hamot, Mr. 
 George Shontz, a chairmaker, lived and had his 
 shop upon this corner. The front of Mr. Hamot's 
 store building was constructed about 1819, the I'ear 
 portion by Thomas Miller in 1825. It was an 
 old-fashioned frame, with white oak sills, posts, 
 beams, &c., and all manner of goods were sold 
 therein — dry goods, groceries, crockery, hardware, 
 &c. His clerks, at various times, were B. F. Tracy, 
 Leander Woodruff, John A. Tracy, Edwin Tracy, 
 Thomas Moorhead, John Mc Cord, John Mc Spar- 
 ren, Robert Benedict, Geo. Laird and John J. 
 Swan. The old Erie Bank — the first bank here — 
 was opened in the counting room of this store in 
 1829, the entrance being on Fourth street. Mr. 
 
OLD FRENCH STBEET AND PRESQ UE ISLE BA T. 199 
 
 Eeed was President, Mr. Ilamot, Cashier, and 
 John A. Tracy, C. M. Eeed, Samuel Browu, Wm. 
 Fleming, Thomas Moorhead, Jr., E. D. Gunnison 
 and Daniel Gillespie, directors. The. capital was 
 1200,000. One of the original $5 bills, ISo. 163, 
 dated March 24, 1829, is now in the hands of the 
 Second National Bank. 
 
 Opposite Hamot's store and south was Judah 
 Colt's log house, one and a-half stories high, which 
 was back in th'e lot near the brow of the hill. Be- 
 tween Colt's and Eeed's was the office of Joseph 
 M. Kratz, County Treasurer in 1803, and Fithian's 
 shoe store was in the same region. Eeed's store 
 was on the northwest corner of Fifth and French — 
 the dwelling was in the north part of the house. 
 I think the building was erected in 1804. Giles 
 Sanford came here in^lSlO and some years there- 
 after formed a co-partnership with Mr. Eeed. 
 James Duncan kept tavern here at one time, and 
 William Lattimore kept store in the corner room. 
 The Erie Gazette was iirst issued in this building. 
 The east side of the street, from Fourth street to the 
 corner building on Fifth, was unoccupied and was 
 enclosed by a common rail fence. 
 . Upon the corner now occupied by the Farmer's 
 Hotel was a story-and-a-half house of logs built by 
 Amos Fisk in 1805. In 1816 it was Duncan's 
 Globe Hotel. Stephen Wolverton at one time re- 
 sided and kept a store in this building. At the 
 southeast corner of French and Fifth was the well 
 
zoo OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 
 
 remembered residence of Col. Thomas Forster, 
 with its spacious verandas to both stories, and its 
 immense locust trees in the yard before the house. 
 Opposite, north and east of Forster's, is the still el- 
 egant Dr. Wallace house, built by John McElroy, 
 who was killed at Niagara in the war of 1812. 
 Next east was a log house where service was oc- 
 casionally held by the Associate Reformed congre- 
 gation. The late E. D. Gunnison taught school in 
 this house. The block bounded by the Diamond, 
 and French, Fifth and State streets, was owned by 
 a man named Murray. The whole was surrounded 
 by a picket fence with cedar posts pointed and 
 neatly dressed. Upon the Diamond and French 
 street side was a row of .fine Lombardy poplars, a 
 tree very much admired in that day, and brought 
 to Philadelphia by Judge Bingham about 1785. 
 Near the southwest corner was a splendid spring 
 of living water in the shade of a cluster of large 
 hemlock trees. In the centre of this square was Mr. 
 Murray's residence, a house of logs and one and a 
 half stories high. There was a beautiful garden 
 here, and the house was surrounded with the old 
 fashioned snow balls, lilacs, roses, &c. Across 
 Fifth, and near State street, were the cider mill 
 and press of Judah Colt. 
 
 It is said McDonald and his party met and cast 
 their bullets in Murray's house before going to the 
 corner of Third and Sassafras streets to fight the 
 duel with Senat. A gentleman still living inform- 
 
OLD FRENCH STREET AND PRESQ UE ISLE BA T. 201 
 
 ed me that he, with a number of others (then boys) 
 followed the party until they were crossing Lee's run, 
 when Dr. Wallace turning 'threatened them with 
 titter annihilation unless they went back. My in- 
 formant left the other boys and ran down the bank 
 to the neighborhood of Second street, and then 
 came up a path on the west side of the run and hid 
 in the bushes. Where he had a good view of Senat. 
 At the first fire Senat was hit in the arm or hand. 
 After a parley the surgeon decided that the wound 
 did not prevent continuing the fight. At the sec- 
 ond fire Senat fell dead, and very soon after, hear- 
 ing a rustling in the bushes, my informant 
 looked up and saw Mc Donald, attired in a 
 drab overcoat buttoned to the throat and reaching 
 nearly to his heels, walking rapidly down the path 
 toward the village. 
 
 Mr. Reed purchased the Murray property and 
 erected a store, corner of French street and the Dia- 
 mond, and occupied it in 1825. Just south of Col. 
 Forster's house was a long, narrow building used 
 as a school house. Here was enacted the tragedy 
 of " Julius Caesar,' " the full details of which ap- 
 peared some time since in "The Academy. " My 
 recollection of this building first was when occupied 
 by Dr. Ohauncey F. Perkins as a drug store. Then 
 followed R. 0. Hulbert's justice's ofiice, and above 
 were Aaron Kellogg, Gillespie & Jackson, Myron 
 Goodwin, J. & G. Kellogg, Fleming & Brewster, 
 Thos. G. Colt, dry goods ; the Balls, and afterward 
 
S02 . OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 
 
 Ball & Ford, watchmakers and jewellers; Daniel 
 Webster, oyster saloon ; Haskins & Bates, grocers ; 
 8. Smyth, hatter. The young men on French street, 
 in that later day, were Andrew Scott, Wm. E. Kings- 
 bury, Jonas Harrison, T. G. Colt, John Mc Spar- 
 ren, Geo. H. Kellogg, A. W. Wasson, Samuel L. 
 Forster, Julius Hitchcock, Daniel Gillespie, James 
 L. Reed, P. Arbuckle, Geo. Williams, Jno. W. 
 Hunter. Horace Greeley worked in the Gazette 
 office, on French street, at this time, but didn't 
 train much with the boys. 
 
 On the northeast corner of the Diamond and 
 Sixth streets was Bell's Inn, erected in 1806. The 
 timbers in this house were cut upon the Diamond, 
 and John Teel was nailing the weather boards on 
 the house at the time of the great eclipse of the 
 sun in 1806. This was a great place for dancing 
 school, shows of wax works, &c. A Mr. Fox kept 
 a store in this building in 1813. The Bailey house, 
 standing east of Bell's, was occupied by Purser Carr. 
 There is said to be a portrait of the Purser in posses- 
 sion of a lady in this city. Opposite and south of 
 Bell's, known in later days as Sanford's corner, lived 
 Com. Dexter. He also died there. There was a 
 military funeral, and the horses becoming restless 
 while the procession was moving, the remains of 
 the Commodore were thrown upon the ground. 
 
 Upon the Diamond somewhere, Jonathan Baird 
 had a blacksmith shop in 1809. In this year 
 John Hay was Postmaster, Jacob Spang, Sherift", 
 
OLD FBENGH STREET AND PRE8Q UE ISLE BAT. 
 
 James E. Heron, Protbonotary. Anselm Potter 
 was an attorney "at Mr. Fisk's opposite Duncan's," 
 and James Duncan was innkeeper at the sign of 
 the "Spread Eagle." On the northeast corner of 
 French street and the Diamond George Moore's 
 house was erected in 1804. On the south end of 
 that lot, and east of Seventh street corner, Thomas 
 Large had a blacksmith shop in 1809. Between 
 Seventh and Eighth streets east side, was the 
 house of Anson Jewett, a butcher, in 1836. JSText 
 was the log house of Capt. John Woodward, for 
 many years, transcribing clerk in the House of Rep- 
 resentatives. He died in 1823, aged ninety-four. 
 The next house south, corner of Eighth and 
 French, was occupied by George Wyeth, who re- 
 moved the office of the "MirrOr" from Dickson's 
 corner in June, 1809. The Mirror was Federal 
 and " wore the black cockade." The prominent 
 Democrats were Maj. Cochran, Capt. Dobbins and 
 P. S. V. Hamot. Patrick Farrelly, of Crawford, was 
 a Democrat, and indulged in communications to the 
 Mirror. Across Eighth street and next south was 
 the burying ground connected with the Associate 
 Reformed Church. Above this was the log building 
 one and a half stories high, used by John Mc Don- 
 ald, blacksmith, in 1810. On the Corner of Ninth 
 and French streets was a log building I remember 
 as occupied by a man named McKinley. Across 
 the street, south corner, were the tannery buildings 
 of Samuel Hays. 
 
204 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 
 
 YI. 
 
 A Boy's -walk down Peach Street. 
 
 Federal Hill was a noted point in the early days 
 of the borough of Erie. I think I have heard that 
 it was named by George Moore, Esq., a man filling 
 a large space in the early history of the town and 
 county. 
 
 "When boys, we were in the habit of going to the 
 Hill to meet the caravans and shows that approach- 
 ed from the south and west. Brown's avenue and 
 all the other cut-offs from the Ridge Road were un- 
 known, and everything from the west and south 
 must enter the town by Federal Hill. The people 
 of the populous township of Millcreek always held 
 their elections here. The bars of the rival taverns 
 did a good business on that day, and in the after- 
 noon, when the steam was up and the Lake Road 
 boys got on the Hill, diversions in the way of free 
 fights were frequent. 
 
 Groups of men engaged in earnest political dis- 
 cussion were numerous. You would always see 
 Capt. John Justice, Joseph Henderson, Robt. Coch- 
 ran, Giles and Hamlin Russell, the Sweenys, Mr. 
 Wing, John K. Caldwell, the Mc Crearys, Evanses, 
 Oldses, Parkers, Caugheys, Reeds, Whitleys, Dr. 
 Thayer, Rudy Shank, the Loves, "Nicholsons, 
 Browns, Saltsmans, Ebersoles, Riblets and Mc Clel- 
 lands, Mr. Gingrich, John Butt, Wareham Taggart 
 
A BOTS WALK DOWN PEACE STREET. £05 
 
 and others, earnestly discussing the questions of the 
 time. If it were charged by the "Whigs that vile 
 political slanders filled the opposition papers, Rob- 
 ert Cochran produced a copy of the " Globe" and 
 defended its contents. If a Democrat spoke of 
 Blue Light Federalists, the pockets of Andrew 
 Caughey would quickly give forth several numbers 
 of the "ITational Intelligencer," and in his quiet, 
 earnest manner he would defend the paper repre- 
 senting the party of his choice. 
 
 The general excitement was heightened by the 
 constant passage eastward of droves of cattle, sheep 
 and hogs, and the shouts and cries of the drovers. 
 And wagons, bow-topped and covered with canvas 
 — the dog under the wagon — the great spinning 
 wheel fitting the rear end of the cover — the faces 
 of tow-headed children peeping out from front and 
 rear— were passing westward, bound for Michigan 
 and Indiana. And occasionally a wagon like these 
 was headed eastward, with sorry, jaded stock, and 
 people with wear}', solemn-looking, tallow-colored 
 faces, and some member of the family, perched 
 on a bed with a quilt about him, told the story — it 
 was his day for a shake. They had been West 
 and were returning, satisfied to live anywhere in 
 the East. 
 
 Down this road passed the great Pennsylvania 
 wagons with the belled horses, loaded with iron, 
 nails and glass from Pittsburgh, and team after 
 team with steamboat wood for the docks. 
 
206 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 
 
 Shouts from the rear are heard, and turning 
 quickly around we see men getting to the sides of 
 the road, and two wagons abreast and well filled, 
 and drawn by rather sorry-looking stock, come rat- 
 tling along in a race. Every one knows them — 
 
 "the wild B s" of Beaverdam, and the C s 
 
 of Millcreek. Mark the old chap driving the 
 wagon this side — a short pipe in his mouth, a great 
 purple-red bunch over his eye. He flourishes a 
 "whup," minus the lash, at the cattle. Look at the 
 span of "mears," straddling wide from the tongue of 
 the wagon, and lying down to the work. The mud- 
 flies, the contestants yell, the mob cheer, and down 
 the hill to the town they go like mad. 
 
 Our politicians are out from town in force, en- 
 couraging their friends with news of the progress 
 of the contest in the borough. Hacks are coming 
 and going, and the boys are very polite to certain 
 blear-eyed, ill-favored old fellows, who are seen in 
 carriages only upon election day. William J. Ster- 
 rett and Augustus Walters each arrive with a wag- 
 on full of voters gathered up on the Lake road. 
 
 Elijah Babbitt and P. 8. V. Hamot stand ex- 
 changing pleasant words of comment upon the ex- 
 citement about them. John H. Walker is speak- 
 ing earnestly to a group, and receiving that atten- 
 tion always accorded to him. Andrew, Scott, Wm. 
 Truesdail and Wm. M. Gallagher are chaffing Mur- 
 ray Whallon, who smiles and says confidently, 
 " Wait till you hear from the back townships, 
 
A BOY'S WALK DO WN PEACH STREET. 207 
 
 boys." Standing near we note John W. Plunter, 
 Thos. Laird, Adam Pollock, John Shaner, A. P. 
 Durlin, Sol. Wood, 0. D. Spafford, B. F. Sloan, 
 John W. McLane, Wm. F. Eindernechtand others, 
 the younger Whigs and Democrats of the borough. 
 The dispute is terminated by the sounds of music 
 from a band in a wagon drawn by four horses 
 driven by Perry Oliver, with Horace Bronson on 
 the seat beside him. 
 
 The return of the band to town is the sitrnal for 
 many to leave, and we will go with the music. 
 There was only a house or two between the hill and 
 the old homestead of the MclSTairs. The old brew- 
 ery of Dunning MclSTair stood on the east side of 
 the street and just between the railway tracks as 
 laid to-day. It had taken a "list" to the westward, 
 and was propped up with heavy posts braced 
 against it. It had the old-fashioned mill doors, 
 divided horizontally into two. parts, each swinging 
 separately. 
 
 All of the "gore" at the angle of Peach and 
 Turnpike or State streets down to Twelfth, and all 
 the corresponding part west of Peach, was a wooded 
 swamp of beach, hemlock and chestnut, and an 
 undergrowth of grape vines. 
 
 Jim W , of West Millcreek, started for 
 
 home one warm summer afternoon, and when op- 
 posite the old brewery discovered a man asleep 
 upon the ground under the vine-covered hemlocks 
 opposite. The man had a worn and neglected 
 
Z08 OLD TIMES IN EBIE. 
 
 look, and Jim came to the conclusion that he was 
 drunk. The spirit of mischief was aroused, and 
 cutting a fine, supple beech gad he proceeded 
 leisurely to divest it of its superfluous twigs. Jim 
 had often heard that the quickest way to sober a 
 drunken man was to give him a good whipping. 
 Approaching the unconscious sleeper, and measur- 
 ing his distance, he proceeded to shower the blows 
 upon him. The man — who was as sober as his 
 persecutor — awoke of course in great confusion and 
 surprise, and staggering to his feet threw up his 
 arms to protect himself. Jim redoubled the num- 
 ber and force of his blows, at the same time say- 
 ing, "Lie still and I'll sober you. I '11 teach you 
 to lie down and sleep in day-time." 
 
 The stranger, maddened with pain and now 
 thoroughly awakened, made for Jim, who stepped 
 nimbly backward, still using the whip with merci- 
 less severity. But there was something in the man's 
 eye which quickly satisfied Jim that he was only too 
 sober for his well-being, and throwing away the gad 
 he bounced the rail fence and struck down by the 
 brewery for the Mill Creek bottom, the man after 
 him, and uttering such terrible imprecations upon 
 the pursued as chilled the blood in his veins. 
 
 Through the waters of the creek, over logs, into 
 and out of thickets of second growth, they sped. 
 The crackling of brush and the awful threats and 
 curses borne on the air, marked their course far up 
 the creek. The stranger began slowly to gain on 
 
A BOY'S WALK DOWN PEACE STREET. 209 
 
 him, and coming up with him near Gingrich's, and 
 about overcome with exertion, he reached his hand 
 ibrw^ard, scraping his fingers down Jim's back, 
 when a treacherous root caught his foot and down 
 he came to the ground. 
 
 This decided the contest, but Jim declares that 
 he did not stop running until he reached John Butt's 
 spring-house on the ridge road, and there he stopped 
 and drank long and deep at the famous spring. 
 
 At Twelfth street two men are talking derisively 
 of the rumored purchase by parties of the Anti- 
 Masonic swamp, which is immediately across the 
 street, and expressing the opinion that it never will 
 be used for anything but a bog pasture. One of the 
 men is of very rotund figure, not tall, with a sober, 
 red face and side whiskers. The other is tall and 
 slender, hair sprinkled with gray, face rather dark, 
 and never seen without a cigar in his mouth. The 
 old citizen may recognize James S. Bennett and 
 Samuel W. Keefer. 
 
 Samuel Phcenix stands talking with David Pence 
 in front of the cooper shop of the latter just 
 within sight on Eleventh street, and the two old 
 men listening, the one with a long, drab, double- 
 caped over-coat, carrying a cane, and having a red, 
 pouchy upper lip, and the other with light cordu- 
 roy clothes, are old Billy Dougherty and John 
 Glover, the brewer. I have no doubt if the old 
 English brewer were living to-day he would be in- 
 side of the same garments. The other old men ap- 
 
SIO OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 
 
 preaching from Flynt's fulling mill are Mr. Marshall 
 and Mr. Burnley. As we proceed to Tenth street, we 
 note a man coming up street with a wheelbarrow. 
 He is without a coat, has a stand-up shirt-collar, 
 with a light-colored, plaid gingham handkerchief, 
 passed twice around the neck and tied tightly. 
 His mouth is " pursed " up closely, showing the 
 wrinkles in his cheeks, and looks like a " gash in 
 a frosted squash." What a queer, " wuthering," 
 sputtering voice had George Mc Murray, the gar- 
 dener. John Teel's house in that day showed a 
 charred and burned end to the south and was par- 
 tially occupied by Capt. Homans. One of the Cap- 
 tain's pets was a large brown bear chained to the 
 pear tree in the yard. 
 
 School is just out at the Academy, and in the 
 crowd of hoys near Peach street we notice Ben. 
 Wilkins, Silas Teel, Wm. Warren, Frank Tracy, 
 John and William Eliot, John Douglass, Wm. A. 
 Galbraith, John and George Selden, Wm. Brown, 
 Alfred King and others. 
 
 What a fountain of good in the land has been 
 that old stone building on Peach street! Our early 
 prominent business and professional men came out 
 of that building and its sister institution in Water- 
 ford, — brave boys, who reached the highest grades 
 in the army and the navy, and died on the slippery 
 decks and rugged mountain sides for the sake of 
 that which they learned to love in the old Acade- 
 my; clergymen among the first in the land; men 
 
A SOTS WALK DO PTiV PEACH STREET. ^H 
 
 at the heads of departments in Washington ; pro- 
 fessors in colleges. One of her sons* bids fair to at- 
 tain this coming winter the most commanding po- 
 sition, save President, in the land. Auother,t ""^ith 
 a mighty stride, has gone to the very front rank of 
 the vast army of men who hold the immense railway 
 interests of the nation in their grasp. The thousands 
 are dimly outlined far, far in the rear ; only two or 
 three men stand with him in the front. IsTone of 
 these noble men ever said aught disrespectful of 
 their teachings here, nor fouled the nest in which 
 they were nurtured and reared. 
 
 Simeon Dunn then lived in the brick house at 
 the corner of Ninth street, opposite the small house 
 of brick built by Holmes Reed and afterward occu- 
 pied by the famous captain of the borough militia, 
 Charles Wanzo. Geo. W. Gallagher lived in the 
 next house northward, and under that roof poor 
 Tom wasted away and died. The old Brown house, 
 built of stone and marled with lime, looked then, 
 as now, solid and substantial. Its massive walls 
 will stand long after we have passed away. 
 
 How the men stood about in groups at election 
 times in that day, and how hot were the discus- 
 sions. The rosy-cheeked man with gray hair, in 
 the tight-sleeved coat of the times, with cuffs 
 
 *Hon. Michael C. Kerr, who became Speaker of the U. S. 
 House of RepresentatiTes. 
 
 t John F. Tracy, since deceased. 
 
Z12 OLD TIMES IN EitlE. 
 
 turned up and high collar, is Clinton George, the 
 hatter. The man in plaid red camlet cloak is Abijah 
 Fross ; the little man in black dres8 coat is Sylves- 
 ter W. Randall, the lawyer ; and there are Cyrenus 
 E. Webster, Walter F. Mains, P. K Rockwell and 
 Henry Clark. The grave-looking man, with coat 
 of "swallow tail," long behind, and hands in pant- 
 aloon pockets, is Solomon Walters; and here we 
 leave them standing at the Eighth street corner, 
 and mayhap we shall return some day to learn the 
 subject of their discussion. 
 
 YII. 
 
 The Old Academy.* 
 
 First Letter. 
 
 One dreamy Indian summer day last fall, three 
 middle-aged men entered the Old Academy 
 grounds on Ninth Street. One of them had just 
 returned from the Pacific coast after an absence 
 of twenty years ; the second, the gray-haired man, 
 
 • The sketches inserted here, under the head of " The Old 
 Academy " were contributed by Mr. Moorhead, in 1870-71, 
 to a paper published at that time by the boys of the school 
 and called The Academy. Mr. M. was a loyal son of the old 
 school, and took great pleasure in recounting reminiscences 
 of the days of James Park and Reid T. Stewart, principals 
 of glorious memory. Ed. 
 
THE OLD ACADEMY. 213 
 
 is a resident of this city ; the third was the writer 
 of this brief communication. 
 
 All had been students of the Old Academy twenty- 
 five and thirty years ago, and had passed through 
 the administrations of Park, Bradley, Limber, and 
 Stewart.* In our day the arrangement was some- 
 what different from what it is at present. The 
 brick wing of the old building is a modernism. 
 We knew it not. The main room inside seemed 
 to our young eyes of vast extent. The round 
 posts of great size, supporters in the interior ot 
 the room, had been split and shattered by a thun- 
 der-bolt. Huge fire-places in the east and west 
 ends glowed in season with bright fires made from 
 "four-foot" hickory wood. Each boy brought in a 
 stick on his shoulder, at the termination of recess. 
 A.K, G. H., T. D. J., J. F. T., and other wags 
 spent the time of recess in searching for the crook- 
 edest sticks in the piles, and generally received an 
 order from "Old Jimmy Park" to "about face" 
 and march out again with their load. 
 
 The seats at this time were three lines deep, 
 each line raised higher than the other, faced north, 
 and extended across the entire room. Three tiers 
 of seats occupied the north and east half of the 
 room and faced to the south. Mr. Pai-k occupied 
 ■ an arm-chair, sometimes upon an elevated pulpit- 
 like platform in the west end, and at other times a 
 
 * From 1837 to 1845. 
 
2U OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 
 
 little north of the center of the room. I remember 
 this very distinctly, for I was accustomed to select 
 a seat which brought me in a right line with Mr. 
 Park and one of the aforesaid shattered posts, for 
 divers and sundry reasons and purposes. The 
 desks wei'e painted white and had lids to open 
 and close. 
 
 My two friends and I sat near each other at 
 school, away back in 1837 and later, and of course 
 had reminiscences of the past as we walked under 
 the great sycamores and maples that afternoon last 
 fall. Every stone, every window of the old build- 
 ing had for us some history. A "wild boy" from 
 ''Jerusalem" was once detained after school, and 
 locked in the west room upstairs, during the tem- 
 porary absence of the teacher. He jumped from 
 the second story window to the ground and walked 
 off uninjured. He was bare-footed ; and I re- 
 member after this feat (no puu intended), we looked 
 close at the sharp stones in the ground next the 
 building, and wondered how he had escaped un- 
 hurt. 
 
 One warm day, we that sat up stairs with Mr. 
 James C. Reid had a jolly good laugh. The south 
 windows were hoisted, and a wag of a fellow, 
 known as Jim L., was perched in one of the win- 
 dows, book in hand, and looking out he coolly re- ' 
 marked : "I guess it will rain to-day, Mr. Reid." 
 Mr. R., ferule in hand (ferule of heavy curled 
 maple), "went for" Jimmie, and he, not relishing 
 
THE OLD ACADEMY. 215 
 
 what was in store for him, dropped his book, 
 reached out, caught the lightning rod, and leisurely- 
 lowered himself to the ground and walked ofl". 
 Jimmie was a sad boy at school, and there was no 
 end to his pranks. He died in Michigan many 
 years ago. 
 
 In the same upstairs room I was sitting one 
 day in front of the broad fire-place, detained at 
 recess. Mr. Callender was the teacher. Three 
 young ladies, Sarah and Helen W. -and Emily 
 H., were reciting, when bang, snap, crack, went 
 something from the fire in quick succession of 
 sound. I was the only boy in the'' room. The 
 teacher "went for" me, and, my body describing a 
 semi-circle, I "lit" for the center of the room. I 
 denied all complicity in producing the explosion, 
 but circumstances were strongly against me. I 
 was just receiving a lecture upon the heinousness 
 of falsehood, preparatory to a good warming, when 
 several additional explosions were heard, and the 
 ashes flew out lively upon the hearth. The teacher 
 now divining the cause, passed quickly out of the 
 room, up the second stairs, through the garret and 
 out on the top of the building. He saw no one, 
 and was sorely puzzled; but wishing to be doubly 
 sure, he continued his search, and snugly cuddled 
 up beh.nd the east chimney he found a little fellow 
 with a percussion cap in his hand. He had been 
 having fun on his own hook — throwing the caps 
 down the chimney. This "little fellow" was my 
 
216 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 
 
 gray-haired companion that Indian summer day 
 last fall. 
 
 If I were to sit down among you, boys, I could 
 tell you many things concerning the dear Old 
 Academy and its friends and scholars; but as 
 your paper is small I Avill not run the risk of being 
 called a garrulous old fellow today. 
 
 Second Letter. 
 
 It requires no effort to remember James Park as 
 he appeared thirty years ago, dressed in solemn 
 black, with his straight dress-coat, large pants, and 
 low shoes. His complexion was sallow, face 
 smoothly shaven, hair brushed forward at the sides 
 and straight up in the center. He always crossed 
 his legs when seated, and had the habit of " crack- 
 ing" his knuckle joints by pressing the back of his 
 hand against his chin while hearing recitations. 
 Another habit of this old bachelor teacher was 
 the quick nervous jerk of his right arm, and then 
 a severe and enquiring examination of his thumb 
 and fore-finger for superfluous hairs from the re- 
 gion of his nostrils. 
 
 My recollection of Mr. Park is, that he was very 
 severe and exacting — not without a quiet humor 
 of his own ; but still he seemed to stand upon an 
 elevation, and we never got quite near him. He 
 used to say to us, " The Bible is the best book, and 
 then comes Ross's Latin Grammar." 
 
TEE OLD ACADEMY. M7 
 
 . He never seemed so well pleased as when hear- 
 ing classes in the languages. He fairly revelled in 
 Cicero, Sallust and Horace, particularly the latter, 
 and after the lesson was over, he would read page 
 upon page for the edification of the class. 
 
 The advanced scholars read Hale's D". S. History ; 
 the others I think read Parley's first, second and 
 third books. Mr. Park had a way of calling out 
 quite sharply to all idlers while hearing recitations. 
 One day while hearing a class in reading, and con- 
 stantly prompting and correcting a great hulk of a 
 fellow who came to school from " over the canal," 
 Mr. Park, with one eye continually on the look- 
 out, called out, " Lapsley is idle ! " and our blun- 
 dering reader promptly re-echoed in his loud, lout- 
 ish voice, Mr. Park's exclamation. We sent up a 
 shout throughout the room, in which the teacher 
 joined. 
 
 We had two or three scholars who always took 
 advantage of this tacit allowance of what was al- 
 most involuntary merriment, by letting out horse 
 laughs which always prolonged and increased tfce 
 fun, until the sharp rap of that old heavy maple 
 ruler buttoned the lips of the school with the 
 quickness of thought. 
 
 One of those loud laughers led a brigade at the 
 storming of Marye's Heights. I saw him wounded 
 and stretched on a litter afterwards. Since then I 
 do not know his whereabouts. Another laughs as 
 loud as ever in the streets of Erie to-day. 
 
218 OLD TIMES IN EBIE. 
 
 Mr. Park had a class of five in Sallust. Two of 
 them are dead ; four of the five went to college ; 
 the fifth was early in life thrown upon his own re- 
 sources, and he has made his way in the world with 
 more pecuniary advantage to himself than any of 
 his fellows. 
 
 Two boys of that day had what the scholars 
 called a " pick " at each other. One was shrewd, 
 sharp, and quick at study — the other directly the 
 reverse. The first is to-day an adventurer; the 
 other counts his wealth by millions; but it is pos- 
 sible that the adventurer enjoys life with more zest 
 and has more real happiness than the millionaire. 
 
 The idea of wealth necessarily bringing happi- 
 ness is exploded. There are quiet men going 
 about the streets in Erie, that were scholars in the 
 Old Academy, who have not been what the world 
 calls successful in life ; but they learned within 
 those old walls of stone that which raises them im- 
 measurably above many of the so-called successful 
 ones, and gives them a superiority in the minds of 
 tliose whose good opinions they care for and ap- 
 preciate. Disraeli says in his latest book that 
 '• The feeling of safety, almost inseparable from 
 large possessions, is a surer cause of misery than 
 ungratified desires." 
 
 But to return to Mr. Park. He was a thorough 
 disciplinarian, and made his mark upon his scholars 
 mentally and physically. I believe that some years 
 after leaving Erie he was located upon a farm on 
 
THE OLD AGADEMT. 219 
 
 the banks of the Ohio, some where near Galliopolis. 
 If any of your readers can give us any light in 
 regard to him after he left Erie, I wish they would 
 do so through your paper.* 
 
 Thihd Letter. 
 
 Principal Stewart's discipline was of the most 
 thorough nature. He acted upon the assumption 
 that every scholar was sent to school to gain knowl- 
 edge, and was capable of learning something, and he 
 graduated the number and length of the lessons 
 and the character of the study to the scholar's 
 abilities with the most exquisite nicety. He knew 
 every pupil in all the departments and the exact 
 standard of their acquirements. 
 
 At the close of his last term as Principal 
 there were some three hundred in attendance. 
 At that time there was a very large number of 
 students in the languages, and to these Mr. Stew- 
 art devoted himself with a peculiar relish. A 
 thorough Latin scholar himself, he could not for an 
 instant tolerate an imperfect lesson, and when it 
 was the result of idleness or inattention, he was 
 swift and merciless in his punishment. The hoarse 
 '•swish' of that fearful strap, as it descended on 
 
 * A subsequent writer in The Academy stated that Mr. 
 Park ]-emoved to Bardolph, 111., in 1865, There he still 
 makes his home — an old man, but vigorous both in mind 
 and body. — Ed. 
 
OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 
 
 8orae lazy blunderer's back, used to symbolize to 
 my terrified imagination the horrors of the knout. 
 I took a sort of hideous pleasure in counting the 
 strokes when some boy was getting walloped, and 
 my sympathetic flesh would crawl with every yelp, 
 in anticipation of the time when I should catch it. 
 
 He had a happy faculty of catching some blund- 
 ering translation, or some outrageous pronunciation 
 on the part of a scholar, and instantly manufactured 
 a nick-name that was sure to stick. A student once, 
 in reciting Viri Romse, had the misfortune to pro- 
 nounce miserabile, miserybilly, and to the 'end ot bis - 
 career as a scholar he was "Misery Billy." A 
 bright and promising scholar, Henry Law, was 
 "Lex" to the day of his death. John Melhorn, in 
 translating the story of Abraham's intended sacri- 
 fice of his son Isaac, discovered "a ram horny in the 
 bushes," and so unmercifully was he quizzed, that 
 it became his principal occupation at the close of 
 school to chase the crowds of small boys that 
 would shout it at him from a safe distance. 
 
 Not among the least difficult of Mr. Stewart's 
 tasks was to keep in good order the big girls that 
 were under his particular charge. Those that were 
 the most intellectual he inspired with a spirit ot 
 emulation ; others again he would drive into study- 
 ing with his unsparing ridicule. He had an unfail- 
 ing way of crushing any one that became unusually 
 smart or pert, by suddenly quoting for her benefit, 
 
THE OLD ACADEMY. 221 
 
 and in a way to attract the attention of the whole 
 school : 
 
 " O wad some pow'r the giftie gie us 
 
 To see oursels as ithers see us ! 
 
 It wad frsa mony a blunder free us 
 
 And foolish notion : 
 What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us." 
 
 Mr. Stewart diligently devoted all his spare mo- 
 ments from the Academy to the study of law in the 
 office of the Hon. James Thompson ; and during 
 his last half-term completed his studies and was ad- 
 mitted to the bar, and made arrangements to embark 
 in practice at the close of the quarter. I remember 
 that during all that term he seemed to be imbued 
 with the spirit of sadness. He seemed reluctant to 
 part with the school and scholars. The arrange- 
 ments for the examination and exhibition were 
 made with unusual pains, and the participants in 
 the exhibition were selected from the brightest of 
 the scholars. He seemed to desire to make it the 
 crowning glory of his life. I reproduce here the 
 
 PROGRAMME 
 
 OF THE 
 
 EXAMINATION AND EXHIBITION IN 
 
 Erie Academy, 
 
 Friday, Sept. 19th, 1845. 
 
OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 
 
 9 o'clock a. m., in the Academy. 
 
 examination in the mathematical and english 
 departments. 
 
 IJ o'clock p. m., at the Academy. 
 
 Examination in the Clasical Department, and reading of the 
 "Moss Kose," a weekly sheet, edited and contributed to by 
 the following young ladies : 
 
 Miss Jane E. Adams, 
 
 " Mary Brewster, 
 
 " C. E. Fleming, 
 
 " Sarah J. Jaclison, 
 
 " M. E. Jackson 
 
 " Eliza W. Kille, 
 
 " Maria R. Hayes, 
 
 Miss M. M. Lamberton, 
 
 " Lucinda C. Lytle. 
 
 " E. M. MehaflFey, 
 
 " S. G. Thompson, 
 
 " H. M. Williams, 
 
 " Sarah J. Williams. 
 
 " Catherine Sterrett. 
 
 Miss Mary E. Winchell. 
 
 At the Associate Reformed Church, 7J o'clock, P. M. 
 ORDER OF EXERCISES. 
 
 Henry Law, 
 Richard F. Gaggin, 
 J. Ross Thompson, 
 George Kendig, 
 
 S. B. Sullivan, 
 
 Prologue. 
 
 Latin Oration. 
 
 Texas. 
 
 German Oration. 
 
 Dow, Jr. 
 
 ESSAYS. 
 
 John H. Warren, 
 George F. Buell, 
 Darius Lee, 
 William Brewster, 
 Ebenezer Backus, 
 Isaac Moorhead, 
 
 The Pilgrims. 
 
 Excerpta. 
 
 Ourselves. 
 
 Miscellaneous. 
 
 The Spirit of the Age. 
 
 The Literary Review. 
 
the old academy. 
 origijStal orations. 
 
 Hugh D. M'Cann, Roman Literature. 
 
 John Melliorn, Sympathy. 
 
 Wm. R. Davenport, The School-boy. 
 
 James W. Shh-k, 1 Henry Clay. 
 
 Julius Hoskinson, .' Something. 
 
 Andrew H. Caughey, , Mutability. 
 
 DEBATE. 
 
 Question: — "Do present circumstances portend the per- 
 petuity of our Government?" 
 
 Aff., H. L. Sloan.— Neg., Wilson Laird. 
 
 George W. Taggart, Valedictory, on the part of the Students, 
 to Raid T. Stewart, who leaves the Academy as Principal. 
 
 ACKNOWLEDGEMENT AND DISMISSAL. 
 
 George W. Taggai-t, who delivered the Valedic- 
 tory, familiarly known as Honey Taggart, was a 
 scholar of unusually fine acquirements, good address 
 and easy delivery. No valedictory of the many I 
 heard in after years ever seemed to come up to the 
 standard of Taggart's. It expressed with great pa- 
 thos the love and affection that Mr. Stewart's schol- 
 ars bore to him, and the great debt they owed him 
 for his unwearied patience with them and his un- 
 rivalled skill in his teachings. When Mr. Stew- 
 art rose to reply, he seemed at first embarrassed. 
 His voice trembled when he began to speak, and 
 his touching allusion to the many eyes that now 
 looked upon him for the last time as teacher, caused 
 
224 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 
 
 a thrill of emotion that seemed almost like a dread 
 presentiment to many a heart. 
 
 Two days after this exhibition Mr. Stewart was 
 married to Miss Ellinor Reid, a'daughter of the late 
 Rev. Robert Reid, the first principal of the Acade- 
 my, and left for his home in Westmoreland county, 
 Penn., on a bridal trip ; and in twenty days there- 
 after he died at his father's house from an attack 
 of fever. 
 
 Thus in the first dawn of manhood, just entering 
 upon a more extended career of usefulness, when 
 his whole future seemed bright, glorious, full of 
 promise, passed away one to whom the Academy 
 owed its greatest glories. Far and wide over the 
 earth are scattered his pupils. They are found in 
 the Army and the Navy ; they are Congressmen, 
 clergymen, presidents and superintendents of rail- 
 road companies, governmental officials ranking al- 
 most with Cabinet Ministers, members of State 
 Cabinets ; and even as I write I recall a newspaper 
 paragraph of yesterday mentioning one just elected 
 speaker of a Territorial Senate. But in the hearts 
 of all, I ween, are cherished no more pleasant 
 memories than those of Reid T. Stewart. 
 
SELECTIONS FROM THE 
 HISTORY OF THE BARNETT FAMILY. 
 
 From my earliest recollection until July, 1837, 
 I was much of my time with my Grandfather and 
 Grandmother in Fairview Township, Erie County, 
 Pennsylvania, and heard from them very much 
 about Dauphin County, Hanover Church, and 
 numerous persons whose names appear between 
 the lids of this book. When a little boy I made the 
 resolve, if life was spared to me, to visit Hanover 
 and Hanover Church, Beaver Creek, the Swatara 
 and Mauada. After a lapse of thirty years I have 
 made good my resolution, and in doing so have 
 gained some items not wholly devoid of interest 
 to our connection. 
 
 * * * * * While we are considering the char- 
 acteristics, the habits and the accomplishments of 
 the men of the past age, not born to fortune and 
 position, great allowance must be made in all cases 
 for the day, and particularly the place, in which 
 they lived. Our ancestors, driven from the homes 
 of their forefathers and the scenes of their child- 
 hood, took refuge in the North of Ireland. Rest- 
 
226 SELECTIONS FROM 
 
 less and dissatisfied, the Barnett Family embarked 
 in 1734 for America. 
 
 William Penn had landed in this country in 
 1682. He had sent a party ahead, however, who 
 settled at Upland, now Chester, Dec. 11th, 1681. 
 Penn had procured his lands by treaty and actual 
 purchase from the Indians. His sons followed the 
 same praiseworthy example. His deeds were from 
 the Susquehanaghs, the Conestogaa and the Five 
 Nations. Peace, prosperity' and happiness came 
 to Penn's settlement, and he returned to England, 
 dying in Buckinghamshire in 1718, having lived 
 beyond the allotted life of man. 
 
 John Harris, a native of Yorkshire, England, 
 settled near an India,n village named Peixtan, at 
 or near the present site of Harrisburg, about 1725. 
 In these early years, colonies of Swiss Mennonites, 
 French Huguenots, Germans and Scotch-Irish 
 were formed in various parts of lower Pennsyl- 
 vania. 
 
 The name of the original Barnett of this fam- 
 ily that came to America is unknown. He is bur- 
 ied in Hanover church-yard with his wife, but no 
 inscribed stone marks his resting-place. They be- 
 longed to the army of Scotch-Irish Presbyterians 
 who began to arrive in this country in numbers 
 about 1719. They came direct from the North of 
 Ireland, and landing in Philadelphia, and pushing 
 across the fertile plains of Derry — leaving these 
 fine unoccupied lands behind them because iu that 
 
THE BARNETT SISTOBT. SS7 
 
 day they were utterly destitute of timber — they 
 located directly at the base of the Blue Mountain, 
 where timber, water and stone were to be had in 
 abundance — advantages particularly attractive to 
 emigrants from an old settled country. 
 
 Here Mr. Barnett bought a large tract, reaching 
 from the forks of Beaver Creek to the top of the 
 Blue Mountain, overlooking "the land of the 
 Philistines."* Here, in the Forks of Beaver Creek 
 he built a — for that day — large log house, which 
 stands firm and solid to-day. Uncle Richard Bar- 
 nett says his grandfather, father and all his father's 
 children were born in that log house. Here he 
 lived and reared his family, giving them such mea- 
 gre advantages of education as were afforded in 
 the wilderness to farmers' sons. ' 
 
 I have heard my Grandfather tell of the old 
 Scotch-Irish school-masters of his day, — stern, se- 
 vere old fellows, who made the birch the principal 
 persuader to the paths of rectitude and application. 
 I remember one or two school-day incidents. A 
 small boy was to be punished ; he was mounted 
 upon the back of a larger one, who stood up 
 while the birch was well laid on. Th6 denoue- 
 ment will not do for the pages of this book. One 
 day, in cutting the hair of his son Eichard, the son 
 said, "shear me close, daddy, shear me close, so 
 the master can't get a grup of me !" 
 
 * Uncle Richard Barnett so called then. M. 
 
^£8 SELECTIONS FROM 
 
 I have heard my Grandfather tell of the return 
 of his brother William from his captivity among 
 the Indians. He was exceedingly loth to give up 
 his Indian dress; was 'quiet and morose, and would 
 go alone to unoccupied rooms, and sing in a low 
 tone his wild Indian songs. He was sober, sedate, 
 straight as an arrow, and quick in running and 
 jumping as a cat. He died and was buried in 
 Philadelphia. 
 
 After he and young Mackey were captured, the 
 elder Mackey's horse was secured and the boys 
 tied upon him with thongs of leather-wood bark. 
 They were carried awaj' to Presque-Isle and thence 
 to Sandusky; "and I have often," said my Grand- 
 father to me, " thought that my feet might have 
 pressed the same earth here in Erie County as did 
 the feet of my poor little captive brother." 
 
 In the early life of my Grandfather in Dauphin 
 County, the carrying trade was all done by the 
 great Pennslyvania wagons with five and six horses 
 attached ; and he frequently told me of trips made 
 by him to Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, and down the 
 valley in Virginia. He often spoke of Winchester, 
 Staunton and the Natural Bridge. He spoke with 
 much enthusiasm of the grandeur of the Natural 
 Bridge, and the fine, open, hearty character of the 
 people in all that region, many of whom went 
 there from Pennsylvania. 
 
 I have often heard him speak of a trip he made 
 down there with a cargo of nails to sell. Between 
 
TEE BARNETT EISTOBT. 
 
 Winchester and Staunton he fell short of money, 
 and finding no sale for his nails was in a strait as 
 to how to get on. He stopped one night at a tavern, 
 determined to pledge his " fifth horse," the leader, 
 for his bill. As he sat in the bar-room a black 
 man came in. The landlord enquired of him: "Is 
 the granary locked?" "Yes." " Is the smoke-house 
 locked ?" " Yes." " Is the spring-house locked ?" 
 "Yes." Turning to the landlord. Grandfather 
 said : " Landlord, do you think I am come to rob 
 you ? " " Oh, no," said he ; " but the niggers are 
 such great thieves we have to lock everything up." 
 " I see you have a whipping-post in the yard," said 
 Grandfather. "Yes," said the landlord, " but it is 
 seldom used; and they don't mind it long." 
 Grandfather then told the landlord his pecuniary 
 condition. 
 
 A stranger present, hearing the story, enquired 
 how much money he wanted. Grandfather thought 
 about twenty dollars. " Come with me to my 
 house," said he, " and I will lend you the money." 
 He went, received the amount and offered some of 
 his nails in pledge. The Virginian declined them. 
 He then otfered his note. He declined that also, say- 
 ing : "I see you are not a Yankee, and I'll trust you. 
 If you mean to cheat me, you'll do it in any event." 
 Grandfather went on, and in a few days sold his 
 cargo of nails, and coming back he called at the 
 house of his Virginia friend, which was a little off 
 the road. "Well, my friend," said he, "I am not 
 
2S0 SELECTIONS FROM 
 
 going to cheat you this time," — and repaid him ; 
 at the same time thanking him, and remarking 
 that probably he never would have an opportunity 
 to do him a favor. " Well," said the Virginian, 
 "do it to somebody else ! " Grandfather would al- 
 ways wipe his eyes at the conclusion of this story. 
 
 My recollections of the time when Grandfather 
 lived in the old, old house in Fairview are very indis- 
 tinct. I think I remember, when a little child, of 
 being at the old house and seeing a deer driven 
 into the yard, hunted by men and dogs. The new 
 house, where Grandfather lived when I remember 
 best concerning him, had but three rooms on the 
 ground floor. The east room was the sleeping 
 room, and in it was a large, open Franklin stove. 
 In the west room there was a great box stove, and 
 in the north room or kitchen an open fire-place. 
 
 Grandfather always rose early in the morning, 
 and proceeded with some deliberation and nicety 
 to dress himself. He was always dressed in blue 
 cloth — would wrap his handkerchief about his shirt 
 sleeve, hold the ends in his hand, and then put on 
 hia coat. This was done after tying an immense 
 black handkerchief of silk twice about his neck. 
 He then proceeded to smoke a single pipe of tobac- 
 co, always before breakfast, which he enjoyed with 
 great gusto, but never again indulging during the 
 day excepting when unwell, which was always indi- 
 
TEE BABNETT HISTORY. 231 
 
 cated by his wearing his broad-brimmed beaver hat, 
 made by John Morris. 
 
 I remember him in the happy old days of 1835-8 
 as a great reader of "Banyan's Pilgrim's Prqgress," 
 "Buck's Theological Dictionary," "Dick's Works," 
 "Knox's Essays," "The Fool of Quality,"— but par- 
 ticularly "Scott's Family Bible," places in its sev- 
 eral volumes marked with bits of paper, "old man," 
 rose leaves, &c. I read often to him from the Bible, 
 and after listening with rapt attention, leaning for- 
 ward in that old arm chair, made by George Landen, 
 he would bring his hand down with great emphasis 
 upon the arm of the chair, saying to me, "Now, Ma- 
 jor Pilgore, give us the 'Practical Observations !' " I 
 cannot remember why he called me by that name, 
 but he did so as long as he lived. 
 
 /We had a large Scotch terrier named "Torry 
 Mc Curtell," and a great mastiff named "Bose." 
 Torry was death on mice and rats, and many a pile 
 of boards and stones did Torry and I overturn to 
 get at field-mice, which we destroyed in quantities. 
 
 After being "out of sorts" for a day. Grandfather 
 would rise the next morning very cheerful, and 
 standing erect would say, "Major, I am all right 
 this morning; I feel as though the Swatara had run 
 through me." After breakfast he would take a 
 stiff drink of cider, laced with ginger, and then 
 would, at my request often, tell me the stories of 
 his boyhood. At this time he had passed the three 
 score years and ten — "the days of our years." 
 
Z32 SELECTIONS FROM 
 
 I walked with him often about the farm. He 
 always insisted on my walking in advance of him, 
 and would give me sharp directions about walking 
 properly, holding up my head, throwing back the 
 shoulders, &c. ; and always was very particular that 
 my clothes were clean and in perfect order. He 
 had a rare stock of laughable stories on hand 
 which he frequently related. His son Richard in- 
 herited this peculiarity. 
 
 He and his wife Martha joined the Presbyterian 
 church in West Hanover, under the ministration of 
 the Rev. Mr. Snodgrass, in October, 1793. I re- 
 member the great earnestness of his prayers. I 
 have often seen him nearly overcome with emotion 
 at such times. 
 
 When he broke up house-keeping and went to 
 live in Harborcreek with his daughter Matilda, his 
 passion for a horse did not forsake him, and he an. 
 nounced that while he lived he would own a horse. 
 The last one he parted with was an elegant black. 
 I have two letters written by Grandfather in 1840 
 and addressed to me when I was a boy. He died at 
 the house of his son-in-law, George Moorhead, in 
 Harborcreek, Nov. 19th, 1848, aged 84. 
 
 Mrs. Rebecca Barnett, my Grandmother, died in 
 July, 1837. Although young at the time of her 
 death, I can remember it well. My mother had 
 been absent most of the summer nursing her, and 
 one July day news came that she was gone. I went 
 with my father to Fairview, and was soon face to 
 
TEE BARNETT HISTORY. 23S 
 
 face with the great grief of my childhood ; for in 
 my earliest recollection her image was blended with 
 that of my mother. She entered fully into all my 
 childish joys and sorrows, and indulged me but too 
 freely in all ray idle whims and vagaries. 
 
 I can see her now, sifting in the old hickory- 
 split seated chair, in the middle room, at the west 
 window, in her cap and spectacles. She is dressed 
 in brown, — something like the merino of this day 
 — with binding about the ends of the sleeves at the 
 wrists, of velvet of the same color. A blue ker- 
 chief — light blue with orange spots — covers her 
 neck and breast, crossed in front and pinned on the 
 waist at her side. Fastened at her side is a quill 
 inserted in cloth, to retain the end of a knitting- 
 needle. Her snuffbox is on the stand before her. 
 Upon her knee is her basket of work. Her scissors 
 hang at her side attached by a green tape of wors- 
 ted. She loosens the fastenings from wonderfully 
 neat-looking little pacquet books of morocco and 
 silk, displaying the treasures within. I seize some- 
 thing, and holding it up, desire to be the possessor 
 of it. Turning her dark smiling face toward me, 
 I read in her soft, chestnut-colored eyes of unutter- 
 able beauty the answer framed with her lips, "You 
 can have it in welcome." She was the daughter of 
 Col. Timothy Green, and was born in 1763, inWest 
 Hanover, Dauphin county, Pennsylvania. * * 
 
 I here insert two extracts from my log book as 
 pertinent to what has been written. 
 
23^ SELECTIONS FROM 
 
 May 27, 1867. Caroline, Ruth, Max and I at 
 Fairview. I walked to the cemetery near the vil- 
 lage, and visited the graves of my Grandfather and 
 Grandmother. It was thirty years since I had stood, 
 a little bo}', and seen my Grandmother's remains 
 placed in the ground. How plainly it all came 
 back to me to-day — the long procession of wagons 
 winding over the hills and across Walnut Creek (the 
 church was near Swan's and the yard adjoined it) ; 
 the prayers by Eev. Lewis — the sermon by the 
 pastor, Mr. Eaton, from the text "the days of our 
 years are three score years and ten, but if by reas- 
 on of strength", etc. 
 
 I had spent a great portion of my life with my 
 Grandmother. Losing her was my first great grief. 
 It was the keenest and deepest sorrow of my life. 
 I have scarce felt anything since more desolating. 
 
 * * Perry procured a wagon, and I started with 
 the children on the old road to Grandfather Bar- 
 nett's. The children were on the qui vive when 
 they learned that we were going to the old place 
 where I had lived when a little boy, and the scene 
 of so many of the stories I had told them. *' * * 
 I stood upon the large stone at the front door, with 
 two little palms in mine, those of my children. 
 In a moment they faded from my presence and I 
 was a child again. The years rolled back. I 
 recognized every vein and seam in that graywacke 
 stepping-stone. The door was open. Grand- 
 father sits in the door where the sun can shine 
 
IHE BARNETT EISTORT. £S5 
 
 upon his limbs. He would always say, "Major, the 
 sun in the spring of the year does one's hones so 
 much more good than the fire." Grandmother is 
 in the west window beside her work table, her 
 slight figure a picture of neatness and order. 
 
 I turn, and the little hands are again in mine. 
 I look toward the east for the view down the road. 
 A great fir, high as the house, has grown in the 
 way of my view since I was here. It seems not 
 near so far from the door to the gate on the road 
 as it did thirty years ago. Down to the spring- 
 house — up in the loft, the stairs grown fearfully 
 rickety now — under the monstrous grape-vine — 
 over to the spring with the wild red plum-tree be- 
 side it, — is it the same frog that goes c-lump to the 
 bottom of its pure waters? — then into and through 
 he house. 
 
 0, the blessed, bright and happy memories of 
 childhood ! What a weary round I have gone since 
 my feet crossed this threshold. I am past the mid- 
 dle of life ; all the children have grown to man's es- 
 tate ; Father and Mother "sleep the sleep that knows 
 no waking;" and here I stand, with two sweet, 
 sober little faces looking with deep interest into 
 mine as I tell them of the past, and point out to 
 them the exact scenes of so many stories of that 
 bright and happy time. 
 
S36 SELECTIONS FROM 
 
 Uncle Joseph* informed me that they had glori- 
 ous times at Erie. The town was full of officers and 
 soldiers, and the place even at that early date boasted 
 much good society. The principal loitering place 
 was on French street, and the center of attraction 
 was always about the corners at the intersection of 
 French and Fifth streets. For two years Erie was 
 a great gathering place for the officers, and General 
 Harrison, Commodores Perry and Elliot, and hosts 
 of others sauntered np and down French street, or 
 strayed along the banks of the lake to the block- 
 house and fort. Here Senat died a victim to the 
 accursed code duello, and Bird fell at a volley of 
 our own men for desertion. ; Along these green 
 banks the Jesuit Fathers, De la Roche and Bra- 
 boeuf, had raised the banner of the cross before 
 the curious eyes of the warlike Eries; and Morang, 
 Derpontency and Legardeur de St. Pierre, knights 
 of the order of St. Louis, had unfurled to the 
 breeze the lilies of France. 
 
 Then men of another race came to Presque Isle; 
 but the iTidian war-whoop was heard, the garrison 
 all scalped save one, and the "meteor flag of Eng- 
 land" carried in triumph to the Indian encamp- 
 ment at the Cascade. 
 
 The Forsters and the Wallaces and the Wilsons, 
 from Dauphin County, were settled here, and with 
 
 * Mr. Bai-nett had come as a soldier to the Lake region 
 with the troops from Dauphin county during the war of 1812. 
 
 Ed. 
 
THE BARNETT HiaTORY. 237 
 
 the Duncans and other families made a gay society 
 at Erie. I have heard uncle speak of dancing on 
 the long upper porch of the old Forster house on 
 French street. He said that after Timothy Allen's* 
 death he found in his possession — indeed under 
 his pillow — a lady's handkerchief with a name 
 upon it. It was that of one of the daughters of 
 Col. Forster to whom he paid great attention while 
 the army lay at Erie. Col. Thomas Forster, the 
 younger, in his life-time, said to me that if Tim- 
 othy Allen had lived he would have been his 
 brother-in-law. 
 
 One da3''8 march from Erie to Buffalo always 
 brought the detachment to Moorhead's, my Grand- 
 father's. When the battalion to which the Chara- 
 bersburg company belonged moved towards Buffalo, 
 it was known along the road in advance, the fame 
 of their soldierly appearance having preceded them. 
 I have heard my father's oldest sister say that the 
 young ladies of that region gathered at the inn 
 kept by my Grandfather, and crowded the porch, 
 waving their handkerchiefs as the company arrived 
 in the evening. She remembered Timothy Allen 
 very well. They had heard of him while he was 
 in Erie, and she spoke in admiration of his very 
 gentlemanly appearance. 
 
 * Timothy Allen was the son of Rebecca Green Allen, wife 
 of Col. Wra. Allen, an officer in the Revolution. After her 
 husband's death she married Moses Barnett, and became the 
 mother of Rebecca Barnett, Isaac Moorliead's mother. , Ed. 
 
2S8 SELECTIONS FROM 
 
 Prior to leaving Erie, Timothy Allen made his 
 will leaving a portion of his estate to a little fair- 
 haired sister of six years, far away in Dauphin 
 County. At this first camp from Erie he saw a 
 boy of nine years — the Innkeeper's son — gleaning 
 a harvest of sixpences in the camp by furnishing 
 tow to the soldiers to clean their firelocks. The 
 little girl found her way to the shores of the great 
 lake, grew to womanhood, and married the Inn- 
 keeper's son ; and I who write these notes call them. 
 Father and Mother. 
 
 I detail now the account given me by Aunt Jane 
 Barnett : " After a wearisome march of hardship 
 and exposure they reached the village of Buffalo. 
 Your Uncle Allen sickened with cold, and camp- 
 fever ensued. Your Uncle Joseph in vain tried to 
 get shelter for him in Buffalo. The place. was 
 small and the accommodations few. He took him 
 out on the Williamsville road to Landis's tavern, 
 about eight or ten miles from Buffalo. They came 
 to the house and found only Mrs. Landis at home. 
 'That young man is sick,' said she, pointing to 
 your Uncle Allen ; ' and I think he is going to die.' 
 ' You can't stay here, ' she added. 
 
 "Uncle Joseph announced that they were ready 
 to pay for everything in gold, and that they had no 
 place to go. The woman steadily refused permis- 
 sion to remain. 
 
 "The man of the house came ; the woman met him 
 in the outer room and Uncle heard the muttered dis- 
 
TEE BARNETT HISTORY. S39 
 
 cussion between them. Both came in, and the man, 
 on being appealed to, peremptorily and gruffly said 
 that he had no accomodations for soldiers, and they 
 must leave. Uncle followed the man out of the 
 house, pressing his suit and urging with all his elo- 
 quence the dying condition of the young Pennsyl- 
 vania gentleman, who had come so far to help to de- 
 fend Landis and his neighbors on the frontier. But 
 Landis was inexorable. Uncle Joseph turned on 
 the man and said, ' Mr. Landis, we are going to 
 stay here whether you are willing or not.' 
 
 " ' Who are you, sir,' said Landis, turning fierce- 
 ly upon the stripling in years, ' that you dare to 
 talk so to a man of my age and upon my own soil ? ' 
 Looking him full in the face your Uncle said, ' I 
 am the son of Major John Barnett, and that dying 
 young man in the house is the son of Col. William Al- 
 len of Hanover, Dauphin County, Pennsylvania." 
 
 "Landis, amazed beyond measure, placed both 
 of Uncle's hands within his own, and his eyes fill- 
 ing with tears, he said, in a very humble manner, 
 'You shall stay, both of you, as long as you wish ;' 
 and immediately they re-entered the house, and 
 Landis welcomed the sick soldier-and his attendant, 
 Brigade Surgeon Culbertson, to his home. 
 
 "The secret of this sudden change of treatment 
 was, that in the days of the Revolution, Landis re- 
 sided in Dauphin County, Pennsylvania, and was 
 a tory, and Col. William Allen and Maj. John 
 Barnett rescued him, at great hazard, from the 
 
2^0 SELECTIONS FROM 
 
 hands of his infuriated neighbors, who had the 
 rope about his neck and were in tlie act of hang- 
 ing him. He fled the country and came out to 
 this far away place, within sight of British soil, 
 where he became a m*n of wealth. 
 
 '' Surgeon Culbertson attended your uncle 
 faithfully during his last sickness, and Landis's 
 wife prepared the body for the grave. * * * Your 
 Uncle never loved a man as he did Timothy Allen, 
 not even those of his own blood, and thirty-five 
 years after his death he visited his grave. I was 
 with him. I never saw him so much overcome 
 with grief as he was on that day. We were in 
 the room where he died, and saw the woman who 
 prepared his dress for the grave. Timothy Allen's 
 tombstone was cut in Pennsylvania and sent out to 
 George Rogers, a cousin of my father's living near, 
 who set it up and watched and cared for the grave." 
 
 What a tumultous tide of thought came upon 
 me as I scanned this somehow strangely familiar 
 landscape.* I felt myself saying "I'm back again." 
 The memory of all that I had heard of these places 
 came fresh, and it seemed to me that I had return- 
 ed to scenes and grounds familiar to me long years 
 before by actual presence, and I felt as though I 
 
 ♦ What follows immediately is taken from Mr. Moorhead's 
 ncconnt of his visit, in the winter of 1868, to the home of his 
 ancestors in Daupliin County — introduced into the Barnett 
 History. Ed. 
 
THE BARNETT HISTOBY. 2^1 
 
 would like to take a whip and drive out this mon. 
 grel race that have possessed themselves of this 
 fair heritage, and cry with a voice that would 
 reach to the Northern Lakes, to the fair and broad 
 savannas of all the west, to the golden sands of the 
 Pacific, — aye, the voice must reach to the white 
 walls of a South American city,* and traversing 
 the seas fall upon the ear of onef who is in that 
 city hard by the Pyramids — whose projecting bal- 
 conies crowd the narrow, curved streets cluttered 
 with humanity, — directed by infinite goodness and 
 mercy, as he believes, to bring light to souls dark- 
 er than the tawny bodies in which they dwell. 
 
 Oh, wondrous power of faith and trust in God ! 
 to leave home, friends, ease — all, and walk the 
 streets of barbarous cities ; to mingle with those of 
 an alien tongue and race; to meet disease continu- 
 ally in that greatpest-house of the East; to see every- 
 where the scowl of hatred upon the swarthy faces 
 of superstitious devotees I But in lines of living 
 light to him, though dim and clouded to us, he 
 reads the promise, "I will never leave thee nor 
 forsake thee ;" and as he remains during the long 
 years, until the silent messenger beckons him to 
 the shore of the dark river, the eyes, which first 
 saw the light here at the base of the Blue Moun- 
 tain in Old Hanover, will grow dim in death as 
 
 * Mr. Simonton, Missionary in Brazil, 
 t James Barnett, Cairo, Egypt. 
 
ZJ,2 SELECTIONS FROM 
 
 they I'est upon the purple of the mountains of 
 the Holy Land.* "It matters not : In a little while 
 our lips are dumb.". — Fathers ! Mothers ! Friends! 
 come back to the hills of old Hanover ! 
 
 Aye, let them pass in review ! Come back, Grand- 
 father Moses Barnett, with your tall,erect,well-made 
 form, in your suit of blue cloth, your coat and vest 
 trimmed with brass buttons, your shoes well pol- 
 ished, your hands covered with buckskin gloves, 
 a cane with ivory top whereon was a crack form- 
 ing an elongated and fantastic letter 0, a red hand- 
 kerchief with light-colored spots upon it hang- 
 ing partly out from the flapped coat-pocket upon 
 your "bench," — one of your eyes a little crooked, 
 and inflamed by reason of small-pox. Your chil- 
 dren — here they are; Richard, Ann, Margaret, 
 Matilda, Rebecca and Moses. Your young wife, 
 Martha Snodgrass — she was dead at twenty-nine — 
 lies in Hanover church-yard. But a widow, with 
 oh such beautiful, dark, chestnut-colored eyes, 
 came along one day riding her elegant horse "Hot- 
 spur," and as he stooped and slaked his thirst in 
 the clear waters of Beaver Creek, those beautiful 
 eyes charmed you so that you got on the horse 
 with her, and rode, maybe, as far as that stately 
 house of stone upon the hill which was her home. 
 
 The rumor goes, old Grandfather, that you ask- 
 ed her that day to come and live with you on 
 
 * His charge extends to Mount Lebanon. 
 
THE BARNETT HISTORY. 2^3 
 
 Beaver Creek, and widow -like she consented ; and 
 in her brown silk dress she came down to your 
 house, in due time, a bride, and your children filed 
 in one by one and met their new mother, and her 
 children doubtless made mouths at her for what 
 they considered her strange desertion of them. 
 
 Hark ! Hear the deep bay of the hounds upon 
 the Blue Mountain. How it echoes back from these 
 hills ! Away they go with the fleetness of the wind 
 toward Mauada Gap. That noted fox-hunter, 
 Major John Barnett, mounted upon his favorite 
 horse "Pad," is out this morning with his friends 
 and his hounds. Here stand his family. At the 
 head are Joseph, John and James — James the bril- 
 liaut one, whose light burned the more intensely 
 by reason of the shortness of its duration; John, 
 of great energy but hard fortune; Joseph — here he 
 stands beside Timothy Green Allen. Both are in 
 the uniform of their country — ruffles at their 
 wrists and their breasts. It is the fashion of the 
 year 1812. The bloom of youth is upon their 
 faces, the light of battle is in their eyes; their 
 faces are turned to the north, toward the great 
 lakes. 
 
 Farewell, young men ! Tearful eyes follow them. 
 Mother, from that stone house upon the hill, let 
 your eyes look long upon your son ; they will never 
 rest upon him again in this world. Major John, 
 reign up a moment and look upon your boy. As 
 
^J^ SELECTIONS FROM 
 
 your record in the revolution was noble, so will 
 your son's be in this second war with the old enemy. 
 Old Timothy Allen, look upon your grandson. 
 He remembers the record of his father in the Rev- 
 olution, and yours, Col. Green, in the same war 
 and in the old Indian and French wars, and he 
 never will disgrace you. 
 
 Thank God, the future was unknown to you 
 then. Hands, then unformed, oh young man, gath- 
 ered your bones* tenderly more than half a century 
 later, and placed them beside your mother — the 
 widow in the stone house upon the hill. Lips, then 
 unformed, do continually bless the name of your 
 soldier companion, and thank God that a man of so 
 much nobleness and generosity was permitted to 
 live out nearly the allotted life of man, and leave 
 an example so worthy to be followed. 
 
 Robert Rogers's name I learned to love by reason 
 of the tenderness with which it was alwajs men- 
 tioned by my mother. Come back with your wife 
 with her loving liquid eyes, inherited by her daugh- 
 ter Jane, —come back with Rebecca and Jane and 
 EfEe and all of them. And don't forget David, 
 though far away; bring him, and he and I will 
 sit down and talk about the girls in the Miami Val- 
 ley in 1846. David Ferguson, come upon your 
 horse "Hunter." It is a long, long ride to return. 
 You must come from beyond the shores of the 
 
 *Mr. Moorhead himself performed this pious service. Ed. 
 
THE BARNETT HISTORY. 2^5 
 
 great river. But did yon not ride on "Hnnter," 
 with Grandmother upon ''Hotspur," once upon a 
 time, from Hanover to Philadelphia in a day ? 
 
 Come back, Dr. Simonton, and battle with the 
 rider of the white horse. The "King of Terrors" 
 has conquered nearly all of us here in Hanover. 
 Why do you remain so long away ? Come back, 
 Mr. Snodgrass, to your old pulpit in Hanover. 
 True, the pieces of it are scattered throughout the 
 land, but we will gather them together again and 
 cement them with our love. 
 
 Some such idle vagaries as these flitted through 
 my bi-ain as I sat beside Eobert Stewart on that 
 hill, and I thanked God that I sprang from a i-ace 
 of such blessed memories. 
 
 To Robert Rogers's noble-looking old house, with 
 its ancient paper on the walls, its heavy and plen- 
 tiful locks of polished brass, and all the taste and 
 elegance of a house of the olden time, with its sin- 
 gle Lombardy poplar standing like a sentinel 
 guarding the spot, we went. "In that room", said 
 Mr. Stewart, "poor Andrew died." Twice to-day, 
 how tenderly he spoke of "poor Andrew" ! 
 
 We went to the grand residence of David Fer- 
 guson— a house that will stand for centuries. No- 
 thing short of an earthquake can overthrow it. It 
 pained me greatly to know that this kind, amiable 
 man — this friend of the widow and the fatherless, 
 this healer of divisions and settler of disputes — was 
 forced by reason of his very goodness of heart to 
 
^46 SELECTIONS FROM 
 
 leave this delightful spot ; and died nearly alone, 
 with none of his kindred near him, and but few of 
 his friends to perform for^ him the last sad offices 
 of affection. But great is his reward in Heaven. 
 He lives in a " house not made with hands, eternal 
 in the heavens." Mr. Stewart pointed out the 
 room in which they used to be catechised by Mr. 
 Snodgrass. 
 
 We went then to the large old stone house of 
 my Grandmother, built in the last century, stand- 
 ing on the hill, with its bell upon the gable in a 
 little turret, and the rope attached, hanging within 
 reach of the kitchen. To the noble old house 
 I went, and through it to the very garret. The 
 wonderful doors, locks, and hinges ! I felt as 
 though I would like to relieve John Kramer of 
 his tenantry, put it in order, and live there the 
 remainder of my days. 
 
 I returned to my friend's house charmed beyond 
 measure, and yet saddened with the thoughts and 
 sights of the day. 
 
OLD HANOVER CHURCH.* 
 
 " I really begin to believe you are a Presbyterian and 
 Hanoverian in good account; but what do you propose to 
 do?"— JJo6 Roy. 
 
 "Far from me and from my fireside be such frigid philoso- 
 phy as may conduct us indifferent and unmoved over any 
 ground which has been dignifled by wisdom, bravery or vir- 
 tue." — Dr. Johnson. 
 
 My little collection of facts and incidentsf would 
 be very impei'fect without some description of Old 
 Hanover Church. Here all the affections of our 
 people centered, and here they were taught those 
 wholesome truths, and treasured up and carried 
 away those faithful teachings of Mr. Snodgrass, for 
 erudition and practice during the intervals of pub- 
 lic worship. During the last century this church 
 was very large in numbers. We have definite in- 
 formation that at one time there were one hundred 
 and twenty families in the congregation. 
 
 * Situated in Dauphin County, Pennsylyania. 
 
 t The reference is to the Histovy of the Barnett Family. 
 
2^8 OLD HANOVER CHURCH. 
 
 Wm. Penn gave lands, usually one hundred and 
 sixty acres, to the Scotch-Irish Presbyterians, upon 
 which were erected a church, a school house, which 
 was also the minister's study, and a manse. This 
 piece of ground was always known as the Glebe. 
 
 " The Scotch Manse is neither so handsome nor 
 so luxurious in its appointments as the English 
 Rectory, but is yet far superior to the home of an 
 Episcopalian curate. The landed proprietors are 
 bound by law in Scotland to build and keep in re- 
 pair a church, a school, and a manse, and also to 
 secure a portion of land or glebe for the minister 
 of the established church, which in Scotland is 
 Presbyterian. " 
 
 These Presbyterians were warlike, having been 
 educated in fighting for generations for their faith 
 in Scotland and Ireland. The wily Quakers in au- 
 thority, and the quarrelsome and crafty Council of 
 Pennsylvania, pushed these people to their frontiers 
 as a barrier and protection to them from the 
 Indians. A vagrant race of Redemptionists from 
 the south of Ireland were spewed upon the new 
 land and sent up along the Susquehanna. Logan, 
 himself an Irishman, writes to Watson : " I must 
 own, from my own experience in the Land Ofiice, 
 tliat the settlement of five of these families- gave 
 me more trouble than fifty of any other people. " 
 Many debauched Irish came in from Cork in 1741. 
 Richard Peters, Logan's successor, makes the same 
 complaint, and gives the names of those engaged 
 
OLD HANOVER CHVBCH. 2Jfi 
 
 in the troubles about land in 1743. The names are 
 unmistakably Irish. 
 
 Cumberland County was created in 1750, and 
 the proprietaries, "In consequence of the frequent 
 disturbances between the German and Irish set- 
 tlers, gave orders to their agents to sell no lands in 
 either York or Lancaster to the Irish." Advan- 
 tageous offers of removal were made to the Irish set- 
 tlers of Paxton, Swatara, and Donegal, and were 
 accepted by many. 
 
 Councils turned a deaf ear generally to all com- 
 plaints of the Scotch-Irish on the frontier. l&o 
 fostering hand was held out to protect them from 
 the vagabonds sent among them, nor from the sav- 
 ages. But that neglect made them self-reliant, and 
 developed those noble characteristics which are 
 evident everywhere, and moulded and shaped most 
 that is of good report in the centre, south and 
 southwest of this land. 
 
 Uncle Richard Barnett, of Glrard, in a letter to 
 me dated February 15th, 1868, says : " My first 
 recollection of Hanover Church was when my 
 mother took rae to her side in the seat. I asked in 
 a whisper, 'how the man got up in there.' 'Hush!' 
 ' Could not see where he got up so high.' Little 
 pulpit not much larger than a tub. The congre- 
 gation was large at that time; the church on ordin- 
 ary occasions was pretty well filled ; on Sacrament 
 days the house was crowded." Mr. Sharon of 
 Berry generally assisted Mr. Snodgrass on such oc- 
 
250 OLD EANOVEB CHURCH. 
 
 casions, and many of his congregation would be 
 there. 
 
 In early times Mr. Snodgrass wore a three-cocked 
 hat. So did the squire of that day, being a badge 
 of distinction and authority. The bounds of the 
 congregation were over twelve miles east and west. 
 On the south it reached to Swatara creek, on the 
 north it extended to the "lands of the Philistines," 
 or north of the Blue mountains. Mr. Snodgrass's 
 salary was at that time $ 400. He was a practical 
 farmer and owned two farms and had them well 
 tilled. 
 
 The trustees settled up every New Year's day, on 
 which occasion they always partook of good cheer 
 at his house, and the guests would often speak in 
 praise of the good old apple and peach brandy, and 
 other good things. He had his tailoring done by 
 one of his members, and once, upon presenting his 
 bill, it was thought pretty high by the old gentle- 
 man. Mr. Robinson remarked " it was paying for 
 preaching and was a track deal — truck for truck." 
 
 About the year 1810 the congregation began to 
 diminisl). Several large families removed to Ohio, 
 and nearly every year afterward by removal and 
 death the congregation became smaller and smaller, 
 until there were none. 
 
 I copy from my own notes as follows : Monday, 
 Dec. 31st, 1866. At 9 A. M., Rev. Mr. Robinson 
 and I started in a close carriage for the country. To- 
 day I am to see Old Hanover Church and the "forks 
 
OLD EANOVEB CHURCH. 251 
 
 of Beaver Creek" for the first time. For thirty 
 years I have looked forward to this day. Soon we 
 are in the country, within sight of the bank barns 
 and substantial establishments of Pennsylvania. 
 
 Ahead of us is the Blue Mountain. We pass 
 through Singlestown ; how familiar the name ! 
 Here we received directions for finding Mr. Robert 
 Stewart's. Mrs. S. was a daughter of Thomas Bar- 
 nett. Mr. Stuart and Mr. Baruett had gone to 
 Harrisburg. The daylight was short, our time 
 of course limited, but when they found who I 
 was I was utterly unable to get away. "John, 
 here John, put out them horses and feed them." 
 "No, you shall not go a step." "The like of it ! 
 — From Erie county — Rebecca Barnett's son — not 
 to eat in this house !" — "Yes, yes, — take ofi" your 
 coats. John will go with you to the old place. 
 You must stay all night. We'll go with you to the 
 old church to-morrow and take you back to Har- 
 risburg when you wish." 
 
 My friend nodded assent, and down we sat be- 
 side a stove — such a stove as was in the middle 
 room at Grandfather's in Fairview thirty years ago ; 
 and on the stove were the words "Mauada Fur- 
 nace." Mauada ! how familiar was that name twen- 
 ty-five or thirty years ago. — "Yes, John will go 
 over and show you where Grandpap Barnett was 
 shot and where Uncle William was carried oif by 
 the Indians. — You must go out and look at the 
 old house. Grandpap Robert Stewart lived there ; 
 
ULD HANOVER CEUROS. 
 
 it's more than a hundred years old. There are port- 
 holes in it to fire on the Indians. Oh what times 
 they had then. If you could only have heard the 
 old people tell how they bid other good bye after 
 prayers when they lay down to sleep ! The Indians 
 were all about then." 
 
 We entered the old log house. Door of double 
 thickness and cut horizontally, like a mill door. 
 The fire-place was the most extraordinary I had 
 ever seen. There were nine feet of clear fire-place 
 and immense jambs on either side. We stepped 
 into it and looked up the broad, open-mouthed 
 chimney to the clouds drifting overhead. 
 . Nothing but fire could reduce such a house. In- 
 dian arrows and bullets would avail nothing against 
 such logs. After going through the house I stopped 
 again on the hearth, and I thought how many feet 
 had rested upon those well-worn stones, — all of my 
 Grandfather's and Great-grandfather's people, and 
 all of their numerous friends and relatives in this 
 region, and many, many others whose names I shall 
 read to-day in Hanover church-j-ard. Our kind rela- 
 tive and entertainer spoke of the old church. 
 " We are," said she, "the last family of the congre- 
 gation left in Hanover." 
 
 We were called to dinner, and such a dinner I 
 have not seen in many a day. Everything that was 
 good and in abundance. Mr. Robinson gave thanks 
 before and after the meal. After dinner they pro- 
 duced the communion service of the old churcb — 
 
OLD HANOVER CEURCB. S5S 
 
 four plates, three goblets and server. The fourth 
 goblet is in possession of Scott Rogers, of Dayton, 
 Ohio. Aunt Jane Barnett has the christening 
 bowl. I thought of the hands that had carried and 
 the lips that had pressed these sacred vessels — near- 
 ly all of them now the dust of the earth. 
 
 They are of heavy britannia, or some such ware. 
 Upon the backs of the plates was a crown, with the 
 words "Joseph Spackman, Cornhill, London — made 
 in London." Then Mrs. Stewart produced the 
 old church books of record kept by Mr. Snodgrass. 
 * * * Time was pressing; we bade these kind 
 friends of unbounded hospitality good bye, and 
 about a mile away we forded Beaver Creek, and 
 in the forks of Beaver Creek was our old, old 
 home, the house still standing where Grandfather 
 and Mother and Auut Matilda and Uncles Richard 
 and Moses were born. It was a large, high-storied, 
 old log house, built more than a hundred years ago. 
 Holes had been cut in places convenient for de- 
 fence against the Indians. The door had heavy 
 wrought hinges of iron, reaching the entire width 
 of it. The stairs were much worn with the tramp- 
 ing of feet for a century. * * * 
 
 But we must go; we had to move rapidly — six 
 miles farther to ride to reach Hanover Church. On 
 we went ; we crossed Mauada Creek, and at four 
 o'clock, this last day of 1866, we stepped from 
 the carriage in front of Hanover Church. 
 
 The building is of stone and has been out of 
 
;Z54 OLD EANOVEB CHURCH. 
 
 use for a score of years. The old forest trees stand 
 thickly around the deserted building as they did a 
 century ago. The old church books give minutes 
 of a meeting held in 178 — in which it was resolved 
 that the then old church was insufficient, and, by 
 reason of age, unsafe, and a new one was necessary. 
 Then resulted this now old church. The win- 
 dow shutters were all closed — the door locked. In 
 a near house upon the old glebe we procured the 
 keys of the church and church-yard. The steps 
 of red sandstone to the several doors had tumbled 
 down but we clambered in. Leaving the door 
 open we stepped to the centre of the old church. 
 
 A portion of the roof had decayed and the ceil- 
 ing of wood overhead was broken through by the 
 elements, and pieces of boards were hanging down 
 from above ; the cornice was perfect and entire all 
 about the inside. The church was paved with 
 bricks. The pulpit and clerk's desk had tumbled 
 through the floor and were a wreck. Nothing re- 
 mained of the old sounding board but the iron 
 which had supported it, which still hung in its place. 
 
 The old stove lay upon its side. All the light 
 we had came from the broken roof and the 
 door left ajar. The old weather-beaten, faded shut- 
 ters to the windows were closed. Various rumi- 
 nations of visitors were penciled on the walls. I 
 went to Grandfather's old pew and sat in it, al- 
 though it was lying half down on its side. I cut 
 the number (26) from the end of the pew and 
 
OLD BANOVEB CHURCH. 255 
 
 brought it away. We also possessed ourselves of 
 a portion of the pulpit. 
 
 The feeling in this place was one of desolation. 
 Here on this spot for a century had gathered 
 an intelligent, prosperous, happy and godly people. 
 The father and the mother came with their families. 
 Here Grandfather and Grandmother and my Moth- 
 er, with so many others dear to me, had been 
 borne in maternal arms and baptized in the name 
 of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost. 
 They grew up and entered these doors as blushing 
 brides and happy grooms, and here many were 
 brought in their winding-sheets to be laid away in 
 the church-yard adjacent. And now of all that 
 great throng of people but one family remains and 
 they worship in Paxton Church. We experienced 
 a feeling of relief on re-crossing the threshold of 
 this house of the Most High, now deserted and in 
 ruins, and breathing once more the outer air. 
 
 Unlocking the gate of the church-yard we en- 
 tered. - There was not a track to be seen. The 
 pure white snow covered the resting-place of the 
 dead. A heavy stone wall surrounded the yard, 
 the top surmounted with a moss-covered roof. 
 One large tree grew in the center of the place, and 
 there were two or three smaller ones scattered about. 
 At the lower end of the ground were very many 
 graves with simple stones and no inscription. 
 These, Mr. Robinson said, were doubtless the very 
 old people of Hanover, our great-great-grand-par. 
 
256 OLD HANOVER GEURCE. 
 
 ents. It was sundown of this last day of the year 
 when we locked the church-yard gates and turned 
 our faces towards Harrisburg. 
 
 There was much friendship and sympathetic in- 
 tercourse between the people of Hanover and 
 Derry. Derry lay immediately between Hanover 
 and Donegal, and the people enjoyed in com- 
 mon the blessed privilege of that charming inter- 
 course so common between neighboring congrega- 
 tions at communion time in the early history of 
 the Presbyterian Church in this country. 
 
 For some days prior to Communion Sunday, 
 preparatory meetings were held. The minds of the 
 people were drawn by the dear pastor away from the 
 business of the hour and fixed with great solemnity 
 upon the approaching celebration of that wonder- 
 inspiring, always interesting, never to be fully 
 comprehended sacrifice made by Our Lord for man. 
 
 Friday and Saturday arrived, and with these days 
 came the dear friends from Derry, welcomed by 
 the good people of Hanover to their bed and'board. 
 Each one entitled to partake in the great celebra- 
 tion on the approaching Sabbath was provided by 
 his pastor with a little metallic piece having the 
 letter "D" upon it, as a proper evidence of his 
 worthiness to sit at the Lord's Table. These meet- 
 ings have been described to me as accompanied with 
 deep solemnity and searching self-examination. 
 The subjects discussed were generally the amazing 
 love and mercy of God, and the terrible results to 
 
OLD HANOVER CHUBOH. ^57 
 
 the guilty of eating condemnation to themselves. 
 
 The wonders wrought by the hand of God 
 in delivering His Church from persecution in the 
 old home in Scotland, — the terrible battle for their 
 faith in their temporary home in the North of Ire- 
 land; the siege of Derry and its frightful accom- 
 paniments; the French and Indian wars; the 
 stories of the privations and horrors experienced 
 by the returned captives, and the thrilling accounts 
 given by scarred veterans among them who had 
 returned in safety after seven long years of warfare 
 with the Mother Country for Independence ; the 
 glorious fact of the establishment of the free con- 
 federacy of states, and above all the triumphant 
 progress of the Presbyterian Church — the church 
 most hated and persecuted by the British army be- 
 cause of the undivided front it showed against Brit- 
 ish aggression, — were the subjects of congratulation 
 and conversation as they sat around the broad old- 
 fashioned fire-places with their Derry friends about 
 them. 
 
 And then came the Sabbath, the great day of the 
 feast. A multitude attended. The quaint vehicles 
 of the day brought their full loads, but the far more 
 numerous body came upon horseback from every 
 quarter, the mothers, wives and daughters alighting 
 upon the "upping-blocks," and the men securing 
 the horses beneath the magnificent grove of oaks 
 about old Hanover Church. The youthful and the 
 aged stood in groups beneath the trees, or wandered 
 
268 OLD HANOVER OEURCH. 
 
 in the church-yard, plucking branches of the fra- 
 grant thyme, or reading the records upon the sol- 
 emn memorials of the departed. 
 
 Soon the .shepherd of the flock appears, accom- 
 panied by the pastor of Derry church, clad in their 
 ' suits of black and each wearing a cocked hat. 
 They move directly' and a little stiffly to the church. 
 This is the signal that moves the multitude toward 
 the house of God, already filled to repletion. Un- 
 able to gain admission, they cluster about the open 
 windows and doors and with bated breath and 
 respectful mien listen to the words, which issue from 
 every open window and door, " Let us look to God 
 for his blessing." After that the Psalm was read, 
 and then 
 
 ''The pions clerk, tiiU-formed and Bober-faced, 
 
 With iDook enolntehed, stood at his desk below, 
 
 And with his pitch all peoples' voice did go; 
 
 If not full blent, certes in soul sincere. 
 
 Up from their hearts their praises they did throw. 
 
 Nor cared they e'en of some deaf dame to hear, 
 
 At close, the voice in suit, low groaning in the rear. 
 
 Afterwards came the earnest and lengthy prayer, 
 followed by the reading of the Word with explan- 
 atory remarks: 
 
 "Out from that pnlpit's height, deep-bi-owed and grave, 
 
 The man of God ensconced, half bust is shown. 
 Weighty and wise, he did not thnmp and rave 
 
 Nor lead his folks, upwrought, to smile nor moan. 
 By him.slow cast, the seeds of truth were sown. 
 
 Which, lighting on good soil, took lasting hold; — 
 Not springing eftsoons, there to wilt ere grown, 
 
 But in long time, their fruits increased were told, 
 Some thirty, sixty some, and some a hundred fold.