J LIBRARY OF CONGRESS.} 
 
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 <=£% 
 
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 £1.13, 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
"FROM SCENES OF UNDULATING CHARM.' 
 
THE SCHUYLKILL. 
 
 A CENTENNIAL POEM. 
 
 M. K. C. 
 
 l IS VALLEY FORGE— WHOSE LANDSCAPE BRIGHT 
 KNEW ONCE A DARKLY WARLIKE SIGHT." 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 JNO. A. HADDOCK, 
 
 104 & 1 06 SOUTH EIGHTH STREET, 
 
 l8/6. 
 
.N73 
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1876, by 
 
 JNO. A. HADDOCK, 
 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, D. C- 
 
TO 
 
 HIS PARENTS, 
 
 WHOSE LIVES HAVE BEEN CHIEFLY SPENT 
 
 NEAR THE BANKS OF THE SCHUYLKILL, 
 
 THIS POEM IS DEDICATED 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR. 
 

 THE SCHUYLKILL. 
 
 I. 
 
 J S one who first attempts a feat — 
 To which, too ardent, he aspires, 
 
 And which both skill and strength requires — 
 Discerns his heart in tumult beat, 
 
 While faints his spirit at the thought 
 
 Of danger in the doing fraught ; 
 
 So I, with throbbing, sinking soul, 
 
 Assume the poet's daring role, 
 
 And, with my powers of humble meed, 
 Essay to sing the stream and shore, 
 Sung by the heaven-tipped pen of Moore, 
 
 Touched by the magic wand of Read. 1 
 
 I linger o'er the sacred strain 
 
 Of Babel's streams and captive train ; 
 
The Schuylkill. 
 
 With Christ the Jordan's banks I rove, 
 With Horace, tawny Tiber love ; 
 With Scott, abide by Teviot's tide, 
 With stricken Gray, by Luggie's side ; 
 But garlanded by pleasures flown, 
 
 Endeared by recollections sweet, 
 
 The Schuylkill's name I most repeat 
 With accent fond and tender tone ; 
 Beyond all streams that lands can boast, 
 I most repeat, and love the most. 
 To hymn its praise I weave this rhyme 
 In little scattered spots of time ; 
 And memories, as grows the strain, 
 Ride down the highways of my brain. 
 They come sometimes with fume and swing 
 Of troopers madly galloping ; 
 
 Sometimes with tread funereal ; 
 
 Sometimes with gentle rise and fall 
 Of pleasure-party cantering. 
 
 II. 
 
 Swift thought sometimes, on song-plumed wing, 
 May wisely backward take its flight, 
 
" THE GOUTY BRIDGE, MOSS-GROWN AND GRAY, 
 BECOMES THE ANCIENT COVERED WAY 
 TO FEUDAL CASTLE, GRIM AND HOAR, 
 
 OF WHICH IN MARMION I HAD READ, 
 THE PRINT-WORKS ON THE FARTHER SHORE 
 
 FOR CASTLE SERVING HAPPY STEAD." 
 
The Schuylkill. 
 
 And retrospective brightness bring, 
 The darkened present to delight. 
 
 Half watchful, half in reverie, 
 
 I sit 'neath willow canopy, 
 
 A child again. My feet I lave 
 
 Within the nearest rippling wave ; 
 
 My old straw hat, with tattered rim, 
 
 I toss about in sportive whim. 
 
 To love precocious in my head . 
 
 Respond the charms around me spread ; 
 
 My mind the dreamer's fancy dons— 
 A flock of geese sail softly by, 
 Which, viewing with expanding eye, 
 
 Are quick transformed to graceful swans ; 
 
 The passing barge and pilot boat 
 
 Gondolas gay of Venice float, 
 
 And far St. James' bells to me 
 
 Are " chimes of Shandon on the Lee." 
 
 The gouty bridge, moss-grown and gray, 
 
 Becomes the ancient covered way 
 
 To feudal castle, grim and hoar, 
 Of which in Martnion I had read, 
 
 The print-works on the farther shore 
 
The Schuylkill. 
 
 For castle serving happy stead : 
 And now the boat-horn's note of cheer, 
 Which sudden smites the gladdened ear,. 
 Well answers, in my childish view, 
 For blast of valiant Rhoderic Dhu. 
 O, long-wrought, mellow bugle-note ! 
 Poured as from god of music's throat, 
 How often since, in city den, 
 Thee have I longed to hear again ! 
 Thou wast the jocund herald, then, 
 Of slow-paced, broad-prowed, homely barge,, 
 Which hugged the river's western marge, 
 And now, clear-pictured, comes to me — 
 Canal-boat quaint ! rude argosy ! — 
 Scarce known to paint, save where I scan 
 The name of "Jane," or " Mary Ann." 
 Its helmsman has that owl-like look, 
 Which says, "I know each rock and crook";: 
 Upcurls a smoke-wreath from the spot 
 Where stirs the dame a savory pot ; 
 Or lachrymates o'er soap-suds hot ; 
 While gaily in the breezes fly 
 The washed clothes, hung around to dry ;; 
 
The Schuylkill. 
 
 On tow-path hobble mules grotesque, 
 Raw-boned, with many a scar o'erlaid, 
 Urged on by hoarse-voiced boy, arrayed 
 
 In scanty garments picturesque. 
 
 III. 
 
 Above the bridge, I see the reach 
 Of gently-sloping silver beach, 
 Which, with amphibious comrades gay, 
 
 I sought, as often was our wont, 
 
 For 'twas our chosen swimming haunt, 
 One well-remembered August day : 
 Whence, answering to the taunt and prank 
 Of naked elfs on western bank, 
 I fiercely swam, too soon to find 
 
 My unnursed muscles failing fast, 
 While slimy weeds my limbs entwined, 
 And clutched me with their fingers dank. 
 
 For help divine above I cast 
 One look, and one for friends behind ; 
 I struggled towards the nearest pier, 
 But 'twas too far although so near — 
 And o'er me closed the waters clear, 
 
10 The Schuylkill. 
 
 While round my slow-dissolving sight 
 Dispread a lovely haze of light: 
 Nor more I knew ; but oft the rest 
 
 From other lips has come to me : 
 How from the wharf, on saving quest, 
 
 A fisherman pulled lustily; 
 How, bending down, out by the hair 
 He dragged me to the vital air, 
 And then with sturdy, swift strokes bore 
 My prone-placed body to the shore, 
 Where half the village gathered were, 
 So fast had flown ill messenger ; 
 How plied were quick restoratives, 
 
 With loving hands and hearts of. care, 
 
 And many an upward-lifted prayer, 
 Till went the whisper round, " He lives!" 
 
 To me the lesson of that day — 
 
 For ill's the wind that blows no good — 
 Has often for a blessing stood : 
 
 Who would ambition's voice obey, 
 
 And broad streams cross, a goal to win, 
 With moderation must begin 
 
The Schuylkill. u 
 
 His toilsome task ; with frugal art 
 
 His strength must foster from the start ; 
 
 Must not too eagerly respond 
 
 To those, who, from gained shores and heights, 
 With siren sounds and luring lights, 
 
 Are beckoning to the beyond. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Some Summer nights of long ago 
 
 Come back ; dear forms before me glide, 
 
 As I recall the moonlit tide, 
 Where glanced we on in light bateau. 
 What happy times ! Our narrow boat 
 
 Made nestling close compulsion sweet ; 
 
 Perhaps some lips might blundering meet, 
 Some arm by chance surround a throat. 
 We sang soft songs of sentiment, 
 Or martial notes of gun and tent, 
 Or of the stars bright shining o'er us, 
 Or, Row, boys, Row! in hearty chorus ; 
 Or, hushed by nearness of the dead, 
 By Laurel Hill we silent sped, 
 The while skimmed o'er the waters still 
 
12 The Schuylkill. 
 
 The dipping tow-line's ghostly trill. 
 Or, up the stream our prow inclined, 
 The village lights are left behind, 
 And by the meadow now we wind — 
 The meadow where, in time of war, 
 White tents and camp-fires gleamed afar,. 
 To whose indented, tree-fringed shore, 
 I frequent sailed with comrades dear, 
 Though each a boyish buccaneer, 
 To raid upon the orchard near — 
 Through inky shadows of the grove, 
 With rapid strokes next on we clove ; 
 
 Just making momentary pause, 
 While, with our straining sight, w 7 e strove 
 
 To pierce black Wlssahickon's jaws ; 
 Then off to watch wierd figures go 
 Round clanging Pencoyd's lurid glow. 
 
 Hibernal scenes before me pass, 
 
 F-iom either bank has grown a hand, 
 With which the land doth clasp the land,. 
 And a fraternal crystal band 
 
The Schuylkill 13 
 
 Has changed the stream to floor of glass, 
 On which move fearlessly about, 
 With laugh and shout, a sportive rout. 
 Skilled skaters blend in wondrous maze, 
 
 With poise and stroke of nimble ease, 
 
 Describing curious traceries 
 Of form and figure, word and phrase ; 
 Awakening in juniors by 
 Ambitious wish their skill to try. 
 One, fiercely burning to be smart, 
 Who lightly holds the agile art, 
 Uplifts his foot with graceful jerk, 
 
 And takes with sudden jar his seat, 
 While youthful wags around him smirk, 
 
 And urge the trial to repeat. 
 Beneath the bridge, where menacing 
 
 Hang icy spears — with eager zeal, 
 
 Accordant curving every keel — 
 A chain of comrades onward swing. 
 Along the central channel, free 
 
 By quick consent of one and all, 
 Bold boys, in heated rivalry, 
 
 With shinnies drive the flying ball ; 
 
14 The SchuylkUL 
 
 While shoreward, maidens coast and slide, 
 And close their careless steps beside, 
 Some ancient spinsters, prim and staid, 
 Who by odd chance have hither strayed,. 
 With screams hysteric, shuffling glide. 
 
 But gone these pleasures, later spreads 
 
 A rugged landscape cold and drear, 
 Of icy bowlders, slabs and beds, 
 
 Which shapes fantastically queer 
 Assume — of castellated pile, 
 And rocky ridge, and peak, and isle; 
 And 'mid which, born of sun-shot lance, 
 Which strikes the crystal shields askance,. 
 Prismatic colors gleam and glance : — 
 A scene to arctic type so near 
 This frozen prospect doth appear, 
 That one begins to wonder where, — 
 
 While round his eyes inquiring go, — 
 Are walrus, seal, and polar bear, 
 
 And squatty, skin-clad Esquimaux. 
 
 Now, swollen by the melted snow, 
 
 And loosed by rain and warmth, the rills 
 
The Schuylkill. 15 
 
 Are dashing down the oozing hills, 
 And shouting to the river, " Flow!" 
 As lion held by jungle's thong, 
 By many a savage struggle long, 
 At last obtains his liberty; 
 
 And roars and leaps across the plain, 
 
 With shake and toss of tawny mane; 
 So, soon by efforts fierce, set free, 
 Our stream unmanacled shall be : 
 
 For now I hear its wrathful tongue, 
 
 Hoarse-uttered from its ice-choked lung, 
 And rock-like, moving masses see; 
 Which now advance, and now retreat; 
 
 Here, form across the stream a dam ; 
 
 There, into huge confusion jam ; 
 
 With fury rending every toil, 
 
 Now eddying, foam, and seethe, and boil,. 
 And forward bound with motion fleet. 
 Thus Spring, a giant young and bold, 
 Unhands old Winter's weakened hold, 
 And bids the unchained waters pour 
 Again along each brightening shore. 
 
j6 The Schuylkill. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Amid the hills of Anthracite — 
 
 Potential fruit of ancient light — 
 
 Flow streams begun in sundered springs : 
 
 At first diverse their wanderings ; 
 
 But soon, to seek the Delaware, 
 
 They sheaf into one channel fair, 
 
 Which bears the yield of stalk and vine, 
 
 Black treasure of the shafted mine, 
 
 Metallic wealth and minerals, 
 
 And stone to build our homes and halls : 
 
 One channel fair, which spurns amain 
 
 Its natal mountains shadowy, 
 To cleave bucolic Berks in twain, 
 And lapse by hill, and slope, and plain, 
 
 Of Chester and Montgomery; 
 By uplands lapse where fir and pine, 
 In glaucous, gloomy beauty shine, 
 And where the rhododendron bright 
 Displays its banner to the light: 
 By lowlands, where, with open lap, 
 
 Is welcomed Perkiomen's wave, 
 Sent down from ringing hills of trap — 
 
The Schuylkill. iy 
 
 From home of Audubon, and grave 
 Of Muhlenberg, the parson brave: 2 
 
 Still on through shale and sandstone red, 
 
 Through serpentine and marble bed; 
 
 By cliffs of slippery steatite, 
 
 Which gaping Earth reveals to sight; 
 
 By rude-built, poison-breathing kiln, 
 
 By blazing forge and rolling-mill. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Once, in our land's heroic time, 
 
 This stream knew deeds and woes sublime. 
 
 Around its hamlets linger yet 
 
 The names of Wayne and Lafayette. 
 
 Along its banks, the partisan, 
 
 McLane, 3 oft raided with his clan; 
 
 Or Morgan, 4 with his riflemen, 
 
 Struck sudden blow from rock or glen; 
 
 Or Fitz, 5 marauded with his band; 
 
 And here were borne across the land, 
 
 The muffled sounds of deadly din 
 
 From Brandywine and Warren's Inn, 
 
The Schuylkill. 
 
 And from the red field of Paoli 
 The wail of massacre unholy! 6 
 
 Where yonder upward floating fleece 
 
 Betokens industry and peace, 
 
 Is Valley Forge — whose landscape bright 
 
 Knew once a darkly warlike sight; 
 
 Across whose quiet fields and wood, 
 
 Run remnants of intrenchments rude ; 
 
 Whose smiling meadows felt the tread 
 
 Of those who at each footstep bled ; 
 
 Whose healthful breezes bore the breath 
 
 Of famine, pestilence and death. 
 
 O tale of hunger, pain and care, 
 Of bleeding feet and wasted forms, 
 Of nakedness and wintry storms, 
 
 Of heroism, death and prayer ! — 
 
 Thou art a glorious memory, 
 
 To teach the worth of liberty ! 
 
 And heirs of liberty should here 
 
 Their stateliest votive offering rear. 7 
 
*A H 
 
 O H> C 
 
 S « fc 
 
 * Q 
 
 Q W 55 
 
 
The Schuylkill, 19 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Leaping the dam with swift descent, 
 Now is the Schuylkill's deep course bent, 
 Beside that town of bustling fame, 
 Which has despoiled the stream its name. a 
 Sheer upward from the river's rim, 
 Rise windowed buildings, tall and grim, 
 Long loop-holed fortresses of work — 
 
 Which are by day forbidding sight, 
 The stern abodes of grime and murk; 
 
 But, magically transformed, at night, 
 Are bright illumined palaces ; 
 
 Whose reflex in the water gleams, 
 
 And to the night-train traveller seems 
 The glimmering lamps of Naiades. 
 
 Full madly here is scattered round 
 
 A wondrous revelry of sound — 
 
 The whirl of wheels, the engine's stroke, 
 
 The music wild of jack and loom — 
 And chimneys here belch fire and smoke 
 
 And change the sky from light to gloom; 
 Until appears a battle fought, 
 
20 The Schuylkill. 
 
 Though peaceful are the triumphs wrought : 
 And, warlike picture to complete, 
 
 Dark with the blood of textures dyed, 
 Below is seen the purpling tide, 
 Erewhile so clear, and fresh and sweet 
 
 IX. 
 
 From scenes of undulating charm — 
 By villa proud and pleasant farm — 
 The Wissahickon's waters flow. 
 They flow 'neath bridges, broad and low, 
 Or lofty span of airy strength, 
 Which graceful lifts its leaping length ; 
 Or, summer days, 'neath veil of haze, 
 Where cross, perchance, the viewless fays. 
 By groves where forest giants vie 
 In bold desire to pierce the sky ; 
 By dense dark banks precipitous, 
 Of spruce, and fir, and larch, and rhus ; 
 By ligtning smitten pine-trunks prone; 
 By bowlders, guardians of the scene, — 
 Their bare gray faces, cold and stern, 
 Save where by bearding moss o'ergrown ; 
 
11 BY GLEN AND POOL, AND SHADOWY SHORE.' 
 
The Schuylkill. 21 
 
 Their feet warm wrapped in jungle green 
 Of bush, and shrub, and feathery fern : 
 By glen, and pool, and shadowy shore; 
 By cliffs with garnets jewelled o'er — 
 Resorts of ghostly visitants ; 
 By antique mills, and hermit's haunts; 
 By monasteric ruin old, 
 Abode of pious mystic fold; 
 By mines and legendary caves; 
 By battle-field and patriot graves. 
 
 They flow, wise messages to bring 
 
 Unto the Schuylkill listening; 
 
 For, good monk Kelpius ere he died 
 
 Into the Wissahickon's tide 
 
 Cast Wisdom's stone; 9 and near, one morn, 
 
 The star-sage Rittenhouse was born; 10 
 
 And whence its forming streamlets come, 
 
 The learned Pastorious had his home. 11 
 
 X. 
 
 O natal village ! 12 dear to me 
 
 Thy name, and fame, and people are ; 
 
22 The Schuylkill. 
 
 Thou shalt, wherever shines my star, 
 The still attracting centre be : 
 (For little matter where we roam, 
 Our childhood's home is still our home). 
 I love the tales, though trite and old, 
 So often by thy firesides told : 
 Of Schronk, the doughty fisherman, 
 
 Famous with line, and net, and seine; 13 
 
 Of Neef, the child of nature plain, 
 Apostle Pestalozzian ; u 
 Of White, the prophet-souled and brave, 
 
 Who melted first to heat and light, 
 And to our homes and workshops gave 
 
 The stony-hearted Anthracite ; 15 
 Of Smith, the provost and divine, 
 Who learning loved, and dinners fine ; 16 
 Of Sims, who ate from golden plate, — 
 The wealthy lord of broad estate ; 17 
 Of Carson — blessings on his head ! — 
 Who succoring came in hour of dread. 18 
 
The Schuylkill. 23 
 
 XI 
 
 Here welcome-looking hostelries, 
 
 Well porched, and shadowed well by trees, 
 
 For sun-escaping pilgrims planned, 
 
 Back from the dusty road- way stand: 
 
 On one side sheds in semi-square, 
 
 Upon the other garden fair; 
 
 And, in the fore-ground, — vision cool, 
 
 Refreshing as Siloah's pool, — 
 
 The horse-trough, gnawed and green inlaid, 
 
 Beneath a willow's grateful shade, 
 
 Where horses, with a queer surprise, 
 
 Look down into the water rare, 
 And see, strange sight for horses' eyes, 
 
 Their curious selves reflected there ; 
 Or with the children, charmed, behold, 
 Fish clad in silver, red, and gold. 
 
 Far-famed these inns through many a year 
 For hospitality and cheer, 
 For bill of fare peculiar here — 
 Catfish, and coffee, beefsteak fine, 
 Broiled chicken, waffles, and good wine. 
 
24 The SchuylkilL 
 
 Such fare Savarin 19 sure would glad, 
 Or drive a monk with pleasure mad. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Above the highway rising bold, 
 The pillared Mifflin house behold I 20 
 Where once a score of fountains played,. 
 And acres spread of lordly shade ; 
 And deer forgot their woodland home, 
 So wide their limits were to roam; 
 Where men and dames of high degree 
 Were often wont of old to be. 
 
 Once had this place for me weird charm,. 
 Even though not free from some alarm. 
 Come shuddering now the stories told 
 Of ghostly figures strutting bold ; 
 Of dark recess, and double floor, 
 And never-shutting chamber door ; 
 Of noises strange, and flashing light, 
 Oft heard and seen at dead of night. 
 
 Alas ! O age degenerate ! 
 All that once fascinated here 
 
The Schuylkill. 2$ 
 
 Has yielded — ignominious fate ! 
 Unto the reign of lager beer. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Above the creek upon the hill, 
 I see the yellow school house still; 
 Still standing where of old it stood, 
 Surrounded by a pleasant wood, 
 Though by its side, a grander mate 
 Has reared its haughtier head of late. 
 How fondly memory recalls 
 The joys I knew around these walls! 
 For here, in lusty game of ball, 
 
 With young athletes, I strove to win, 
 While urging shouts, and words of gall, 
 
 Around produced a Babel din ; 
 Here chased the girls for boyhood's bliss — 
 And manhood's, too, sometimes — a kiss : 
 Here fought, as older children fight, 
 For some imaginary right; 
 Or, for some fancied injury; 
 Or, champion of a clan to be; 
 
26 The Schuylkill. 
 
 Or, wanting cause belligerent, 
 Sometimes to give my spirits vent. 
 
 Some ills, that in these walls I knew, 
 Come back, but not so fondly, too : — 
 The master on my shrinking back, 
 Oft laid his strap with hearty whack ; 
 
 While quoting, harder this to bear, 
 
 With solemn tantalizing air, 
 To spare the rod 's to spoil the child. 
 Thus, knowledge, in instalments small, 
 
 Got through my flagellated skin, 
 
 As medicines get the system in 
 By method epidermical. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Where once, with many a toss and quiver, 
 
 Went tumbling down the Noisy River 21 
 
 Stood near, of old, a building quaint, 
 
 St Davids named, from Welchmen's saint; 22 
 
 Its warriors were some fishing friends, 
 
 Who sought good health and pleasure's ends ; 
 
 Who battles fought, and victories won, 
 
"WHERE once, with many a toss and quiver, 
 
 WENT TUMBLING DOWN THE NOISY RIVER, 
 
 STOOD NEAR OP OLD A BUILDING QUAINT, 
 
 ST. DAVIDS NAMED, PROM WELCHMEN'S SAINT." 
 
The Schuylkill. 27 
 
 In strife of gastronome and fun. 
 
 Its flagstaff tall a banner bore, 
 
 With moon, and fish, and crown, spread o'er. 
 
 Within its goodly dining-hall, 
 
 Great pictures hung upon the wall, — 
 
 And it was queerly decorate, 
 
 With hat immense, and mighty bowl — 
 The frequent source of "flow of soul;" — 
 With trappings strange, and costly ware, — 
 Wineglasses and decanters rare, 
 
 And curious armorial plate. 
 
 The fort of timber rude and strong 
 Was built, and time and tempest long- 
 Withstood, but bowed in fire and smoke, 
 At last, unto the Hessian's stroke ; 
 A dark revenge for treason here — 
 
 To king the treason, not to right — 
 
 Hatched often on symposial night, 
 Around convivial board of cheer. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Sternly commanded to retrace 
 
 The route by which their haughty race 
 
28 The Schuylkill. 
 
 Ancestral, centuries before, 
 
 Had come on conqering tide of war, 28 
 
 Tradition tells — a sad-voiced tale — 
 
 How clung the Indians to this vale. 24 
 
 Fast to its many beauties grew 
 
 The tendrils of their hearts, who knew 
 
 The loveliness of nature best. 
 
 Ah ! fiercely cruel the behest, 
 
 Even though it came not from a foe, 
 
 Which bade them from these charms to go. 
 
 The music of the Falls no more 
 
 Should witch them to the rocky shore, 
 
 Nor lull at nightfall unto rest 
 
 The tumult of each savage breast. 
 
 They here the fish should seine and spear 
 
 No more; nor near hunt bear and deer; 
 
 Nor more should they, in light canoe, 
 
 Cleave swift the cascade's dangers through. 
 
 Here throve the long leaved osier fair, 
 
 With which they curious baskets made, 
 With berries decked and minerals rare. 
 . Here, in the shelving rock are worn 
 
The Schuylkill. 29 
 
 Great indentations, where, 'tis said, 
 The squaws with pestles pounded corn. 
 
 Oft have I, in imagining, 
 
 Heard through these woods the war whoop ring; 
 
 The bow's twang heard, or lullaby 
 
 Sung to papooses hung on tree ; 
 
 And oft I, on these shores well known, 
 My boyhood's frequent tramping-ground, 
 Have traces of the red man found — 
 
 In axe, or arrow head of stone, 
 
 Or queer carved implement of bone, 
 Or half obliterated mound. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Preserved by the protecting arms 
 
 Of Fairmount — loveliest retreat 
 
 E'er granted unto city feet — 
 Full many of the Schuylkill's charms, 
 Unaltered, shall transmitted be 
 To fortunate posterity. 
 
 Here stone and bronze commemorate 
 The wise and brave, the good and great; 
 
30 The Schuylkill. 
 
 Here fountains scatter sparkling spray, 
 And springs well freshness by the way; 
 Here wind embowered gravel walks, 
 Just made for low-voiced dual talks, 
 And bridle-paths through wood and mead 
 To sylvan nooks sequestered lead; 
 And here ravines, which art disdain, 
 Still scarce permit man's feet profane. 
 From these proud hills, the Delaware, 
 
 Far to the east, the sight beguiles, 
 While near, the Schuylkill, vision fair 
 
 Of bluff, and boat, and arch, and isles, 
 Flows broad and lucid; and, between, 
 The city's pillars, domes, and spires, 
 And shafts, and wreaths from countless fires- 
 A vision glorious — are seen. 
 Here, over forest, field, and fen, 
 Once stretched the manor lands of Penn; 25 
 Here strayed the bard, and happy lot, 
 Found sweet contentment in a cot; 26 
 And hither, in eclipse of fame, 
 A Bonaparte and Bourbon came. 27 
 Beneath the hemlocks of Belmont, 
 
:here fountains scatter sparkling spray, 
 and springs well freshness by the way. 
 
The Schuylkill. 3? 
 
 Freedom's nobility were wont 
 To seek repose, and friendship fit, 
 In Peters — jurist, statesman, wit 28 
 And here, from wondering shore to shore, 
 Franklin sent fire electric o'er 
 The Schuylkill's waves; 29 but even he, 
 Though dreamer bold, saw not what we 
 Behold, and no amazement know — 
 This self-same force o'er oceans wide, 
 And lands which oceans broad divide,. 
 Speeding the world's news to and fro. 
 
 Here pass along, as on a stage, 
 
 A gay kaleidoscopic crowd, — 
 Proud wealth in haughty equipage, 
 
 And poverty a-foot, as proud. 
 Out from the town's wide open doors 
 A human current ceaseless pours ; 
 Come sage and student, flying schools, 
 
 The lore of stream, and earth, and air. 
 To learn, uncramped by roof or rules ; 
 
 Mechanic, glad an hour to share 
 
 With nature, free from work and care ; 
 
32 The Schuylkill. 
 
 Doctor discarding recipes; 
 And lawyer losing sight of fees; 
 Soft youthlings flirting o'er croquet, 
 And romping boys and girls at play. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Behold above the Schuylkill's strand, 
 Well wrought with toil of brain and hand, 
 To fame a nation's hundred years, 
 A camp of palaces appears ! 
 
 The impulse given when here the flag 
 Of Independence was unfurled, 
 
 Has been a spur to prick a world, 
 Which in its march began to lag; 
 And now, that impulse grateful for, 
 Behold the world is at our door ! — 
 Brought by the century's steam winged ships, 
 Gifts in its hands, thanks on its lips. 
 Come Spaniard, Latin, Teuton, Russ, 
 Briton and Gaul — harmonious, 
 And Oriental, with salaam, 
 Homage to pay to Uncle Sam. 
 
' THE IMPULSE GIVEN WHEN HERE THE FLAG 
 OF INDEPENDENCE WAS UNFURLED, 
 HAS BEEN A SPUR TO PRICK A WORLD, 
 WHICH IN ITS MARCH BEGAN TO LAG-" 
 
The Schuylkill. 33 
 
 Science, and art, and industry, 
 Their fruitage send by land and sea ; 
 From azure Rhine, from Seine and Rhone, 
 
 From Neva 'neath the northern star, 
 
 From ancient Nile, and Murray far, 
 From Indus, Thames, and Amazon ; 
 And from far streams of our own land ; 
 For, from St. John's to Rio Grande, 
 Columbia's statute towering o'er 
 
 Yon proudly curved Memorial dome, 
 Is hailed by every heart once more, 
 
 Emblem of country and of home. 
 Naught to disturb each current clear, 
 Again the blood of Cavalier 
 Contented flows, in peaceful tide, 
 The blood of Puritan beside. 
 Recalling now a common Past, 
 
 The strivings of the less remote 
 
 By one supreme, fraternal vote, 
 Into forgetfulness are cast. 
 
 Let cannon peal, and clang of bell, 
 The martial note, the organ's swell, 
 
34 
 
 The Schuylkill, 
 
 And thousand-throated human song, 
 Send joy exultant Heaven along ! 
 But let us not, in our delight, 
 
 Grow weak ; lest, to our failings blind,. 
 
 Like favored Israel we find 
 Ourselves the hardest foes to fight 
 
NOTES. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 NOTE I — PAGE 5. 
 
 Sung by the heaven-tipped pen of Moore, 
 Touched by the magic wand of Read, 
 
 Tom. Moore has made the Schuylkill a familiar stream 
 to readers of poetry, both at home and abroad, through 
 several well known poems which were written during his 
 sojourn in America, in 1803 and 1804. One of these 
 is entitled 
 
 LINES WRITTEN ON LEAVING PHILADELPHIA. 
 
 u Alone by the Schuylkill a wanderer roved, 
 
 And bright were its flowery banks to his eye ; 
 But far, very far were the friends that he loved, 
 And he gazed on its flowery banks with a sigh. 
 
 " Oh Nature, though blessed and bright are thy rays, 
 O'er the brow of creation enchantingly thrown, 
 Yet faint are they all to the lustre that plays 
 In a smile from the heart that is fondly our own. 
 
 " Nor long did the soul of the stranger remain 
 
 Unblest by the smile he had languished to meet ; 
 Though scarce did he hope it would soothe him again, 
 Till the threshold of home had been prest by his feet. 
 
 " But the lays of his boyhood had stol'n to their ear. 
 
 And they loved what they knew of so humble a name ; 
 And they told him, with flattery welcome and dear, 
 That they found in his heart something better than fame. 
 
 " Nor did woman— oh woman I whose form and whose soul 
 Are the spell and the light of each path we pursue ; 
 Whether sunned in the tropics, or chilled at the pole 
 If woman be there, there is happiness too :— 
 
 " Nor did she her enamouring magic deny, — 
 
 That magic his heart had relinquished so long,— 
 Like eyes he had loved was her eloquent eye, 
 Like them did it soften and weep at his song. 
 
 " Oh, blest be the tear, and in memory oft 
 
 May its sparkle be shed o'er the wanderer's dream ; 
 Thrice blest be that eye, and may passion as soft 
 As free from a pang, ever mellow its beam ! 
 
 " The stranger is gone— but he will not forget, 
 
 When at home he shall talk of the toils he has known, 
 To tell, with a sigh, what endearments he met, 
 As he strayed by the wave of the Schuylkill alone." 
 
 37 
 
38 
 
 Notes. 
 
 In a poetical epistle to the Honourable W. R. Spencer, 
 Moore again pleasantly refers to the Schuylkill in the fol- 
 lowing lines: 
 
 "Believe me, Spencer, while I wing'd the hours 
 Where Schuylkill winds his way through banks of flowers, 
 Though few the days, the happy evenings few, 
 So warm with heart, so rich with mind they flew. 
 That my charmed soul forgot its wish to roam, 
 And rested there as in a dream of home. 
 And looks I met, like looks I'd loved before, 
 And voices too, which as they trembled o'er 
 The chord of memory, found full many a tone 
 Of kindness these in concord with their own. 
 Yes— we had nights of that communion five. 
 That flow of heart, which I have known with thee 
 So oft, so warmly ; nights of mirth and mind, 
 Of whims that taught, and follies that refined." 
 
 Finally, while among the enchantments of the Schuyl- 
 kill, the poet composed the well known Ballad Stanzas, 
 which have given rise to the tradition of "Moore's Cot- 
 tage/ ' in Fairmount Park : 
 
 " I knew by the smoke that so gracefully curled 
 Above the green elms, that a cottage was near, 
 And I said, ' If there's peace to be found in the world, 
 A heart that was humble might hope for it here !' 
 
 "It was noon, and on flowers that languished around 
 In silence reposed the voluptuous bee ; 
 Every leaf was at rest, and I heard not a sound 
 But the woodpecker tapping the hollow beech-tree. 
 
 "And, 'Here in this lone little wood,' I exclaimed, 
 k With a maid who was lovely to soul and to eye, 
 
 'Who would blush when I praised her, aud weep if I blamed, 
 'How blest could I live, and how calm could I die ! 
 
 " ' By the shade of yon sumach, whose red berry dips 
 'In the gush of the fountain, how sweet to recline, 
 ' And to know that I sighed upon innocent lips, 
 ' Which had never been sighed on by any but mine !' " 
 
 The scenes of Thomas Buchanan Read's Wagoner of the 
 Alleghanies are chiefly laid on the banks of the Schuylkill, 
 between Philadelphia and Valley Forge; and the same 
 author, in The New Pastoral, gracefully honors our highly 
 favored stream : 
 
 "The Schuylkill, sacred to the barge of mirth, 
 Its green banks consecrate to pleasure's paths, 
 Winds into sight with many a silvery curve ; 
 And at the breast-work, with a ceaseless voice, 
 Rustles the music which its waters learned 
 On mountain wilds remote, where Carbon's hills 
 Hear in their inmost heart the miner's stroke. 
 Behold the mound by art and nature reared, 
 ' Fairmount !' in whose tall top the waters lie 
 Lifted as in a great baptismal font ; 
 The height from whence the river deity 
 Pours, from his giant and refreshing urn, 
 The stream which slakes a grateful citv's thirst." 
 
Notes. 39 
 
 NOTE 2 PAGE 17. 
 
 From home of Audubon, and grave 
 Of Muhlenberg, the parson brave. 
 
 The celebrated naturalist, John James Audubon, the 
 '"Genius of the woods," had his home — or, perhaps, it 
 would be better to say, his nest — for a short time on a farm 
 •or plantation, which had been presented to him by his 
 father, and which was situated on Perkiomen Creek. 
 
 At Collegeville, or the Trappe, in Montgomery county, 
 Pennsylvania, along the old Ridge Road, and not far from 
 Perkiomen Creek, is an ancient and quaint-looking church ; 
 and connected with it is a burial-ground, in which rest the 
 remains of Major-General Peter Gabriel Muhlenberg, one 
 of our most gallant Revolutionary leaders. General Muhlen- 
 berg, who was born at the Trappe, — at the breaking out of 
 the Revolution was officiating as an Episcopal clergyman 
 at Woodstock, Virginia ; but soon exchanged his clerical 
 robes for the uniform of the soldier. The story of the 
 manner in which he made this exchange is well known. In 
 his last sermon before entering the army, he told his hearers 
 that the time to preach had gone by, and that now was the 
 time to fight ; and throwing back his clerical robes, he dis- 
 played himself arrayed in full uniform, and called for re- 
 cruits, many responding to his appeal. 
 
 NOTE 3 — PAGE 17. 
 
 Along its banks the partisan 
 McLane, oft raided with his clan. 
 
 Colonel Allen McLane was a famous American partisan 
 leader during the war of Independence. During the oc- 
 cupation of Philadelphia by the British, he was constantly 
 .scouring the upper end of Bucks and Montgomery counties, 
 to cut off scouting parties of the enemy and intercept 
 their supplies of provisions. We are told in Watson" s 
 Annals of Philadelphia and Pennsylvania, that on the night 
 
40 Notes, 
 
 of the Meschianza — a grand entertainment given by the 
 officers of General Howe's army — McLane, with a small 
 body of men, set fire to the whole line of abatis in front 
 of the British redoubts, and then fled to the wilds of the 
 Wissahickon, where he was pursued by the British horse. 
 In his retreat he was compelled to swim his horse across 
 the Schuylkill, when some of Morgan's riflemen came 
 to his assistance. He then turned upon his pursuers, and 
 drove them back into their lines near the city. 
 
 NOTE 4 — PAGE 17. 
 
 Or Morgan, with his riflemen, 
 Struck sudden blow from rock or glen. 
 
 The Morgan here alluded to is General Daniel Morgan, 
 of the Virginia Line of the Army of the United States, 
 whose command is well known in Revolutionary annals as 
 " Morgan's Riflemen." While Washington was at Valley 
 Forge, and the British in Philadelphia, this regiment ob- 
 served the country east of Radnor, between the Schuylkill 
 and Derby Creek to the Delaware. After the unsuccessful 
 attempt of the British to surprise LaFayette at Barren Hill, 
 May 20, 1778, they were pursued by Morgan to Philadel- 
 phia. — Graham } s Life of Morgan, 
 
 NOTE 5 — PAGE 17. 
 Or Fitz marauded with his band, 
 Jim Fitzpatrick, or Captain Fitz, as he was called, before 
 the Revolution was a blacksmith near Downingtown. On 
 the breaking out of the war, he at first joined the Ameri- 
 can army, from which he deserted, and became a tory 
 leader or bandit. He was a noted desperado, the Rob 
 Roy McGregor of Chester county, and kept the commu- 
 nity in which his daring exploits were performed, in a 
 constant state of terror. He was at length betrayed by a 
 woman, at whose house he was stopping ; and was taken ta 
 Chester, where he was tried, condemned, and executed. 
 
Notes. 41 
 
 NOTE 6 — PAGE 18. 
 
 And here were borne across the land, 
 The muffled sounds of deadly din 
 From Brandywine and Warren's Inn, 
 And fr ojn the red field of Paoli 
 The wail of massacre unholy ! 
 
 The cannonading at the Battle of Brandywine, was heard 
 
 at Philadelphia and its vicinity. Read, in the Wagoner of 
 
 the Alleghanies, refers to this fact in the following lines, 
 
 the place alluded to being "Berkley Hall," which the 
 
 poet locates near the banks of the Schuylkill : 
 
 "Round all the wide horizon's bar 
 There lay no growing cloud to mar 
 
 The brightness of the autumn day ; 
 And yet the soft air felt the jar 
 Of thunder rolling from afar, 
 
 And shuddered in its pale dismay." 
 
 Warren's Inn, and Paoli, the scenes of well known en- 
 counters during the Revolution, are in Chester county,, 
 not very remote from the Schuylkill. 
 
 NOTE 7 — PAGE 18. 
 
 And heii's of liberty should here 
 Their stateliest votive offering rear. 
 
 A monumental shaft should certainly be erected to com- 
 memorate the pathetic and glorious story of Valley Forge. 
 
 note 8 — page 19. 
 
 Beside that town of bustling fame, 
 Which has despoiled the stream its name. 
 
 One of the Indian names of the Schuylkill was Mana- 
 yung or Manaiunk, which means " our place of drinking.' ' 
 According to a tradition, the Indians called the river the 
 " Mother," and " Maiden Creek, ' \ a branch of the Schuyl- 
 kill above Reading, was called Onteelaunee, meaning the 
 little daughter of a great mother. The name < ' Schuylkill ' ' 
 is supposed to have been given to the river by the Dutch, 
 and means " Hidden River, ' ' — the stream not being visible 
 at its mouth as you ascend the Delaware. — Watson. 
 
42 Notes. 
 
 NOTE 9 PAGE 21. 
 
 For, good monk Kelpins ere he died, 
 Into the Wissahickon 's tide 
 Cast Wisdom's stone. 
 
 John Kelpius was a scholar and a mystic, who had studied 
 Helmstadt under Dr. Fabricus, and was versed in the lan- 
 guages. He came to this country with his followers about 
 the close of the seventeenth century, and located himself 
 on the banks of the Wissahickon, where he dwelt in re- 
 ligious meditation, awaiting with anxious prayers the com- 
 ing of the "Woman of the Wilderness" — Keysets "Fair- 
 mount Park." 
 
 He was the possessor of a stone of supposed miraculous 
 powers, which, just before his death, he is said to have 
 cast into the Wissahickon. 
 
 " Or painful Kelpiu9 from his hermit den 
 By Wissahickon, maddest of good men, 
 Dreamed o'er the Chiliast dreams of Petersen. 
 
 " Deep in the woods, where the small river slid 
 Snake-like in shade, the Helmstadt Mystic hid, 
 Weird as a wizard over arts forbid. 
 
 " Reading the books of Daniel and of John, 
 And Behmen's Morning-Redness through the Stone 
 Of Wisdom, vouchsafed to his eyes alone, 
 
 " Whereby he read what man ne'er read before, 
 And saw the visions man shall see no more, 
 Till the great angel striding sea and shore, 
 
 11 Shall bid all flesh await, on land or ships, 
 The warning trump of the Apocalypse 
 Shattering the heavens before the dread eclipse. " 
 
 — Whittief 's Pennsylvania Pilgrim. 
 
 NOTE 10 PAGE 21. 
 
 * * * And near, one morn, 
 The star sage, Ritten house, "was born. 
 
 The American astronomer, David Rittenhouse, was born 
 within a short distance of Wissahickon creek ; near which 
 his ancestors, in 1590, erected the first American paper- 
 mill. 
 
Notes. 43 
 
 NOTE II — PAGE 21. 
 
 The learned Pastorins had his home. 
 Francis Daniel Pastorious, LL.D., was a highly educa- 
 ted German, author of several volumes, and master of a 
 number of languages. He came to America in 1585, as 
 the agent of the Frankfort Land Company, which origin- 
 ated in a circle of intelligent and cultivated Mystics or 
 Pietists. This company bought of William Penn a tract 
 of land near Philadelphia, which included the present 
 •Germantown and its vicinity. Pastorious joined the Soci- 
 ety of Friends, and eventually became the head* and law- 
 giver of the Germantown settlement. In 1588, he drew 
 up a memorial against negro slavery, which was adopted 
 by the Friends' Meeting, both at Germantown and Phila- 
 delphia, and was the first protest of this kind made by a 
 religious body. He is the chief character in Whittier's 
 poem, The Pennsylvania Pilgrim. — Professor Oswald Sei- 
 densticker, in the Penn Monthly, and Notes to Whittier* s 
 Pennsylvania Pilgrim. 
 
 NOTE 12 — PAGE 21. 
 O natal village! 
 
 The Falls of Schuylkill, or the village of The Falls, as it 
 is sometimes termed. 
 
 NOTE 13 PAGE 2 2. 
 
 Of Schronk, the doughty fisherman, 
 Famous with line, and net, and seine. 
 
 G'odfrey Schronk was a noted fisherman, who passed a 
 long life at the Falls of Schuylkill, or Fort St. Davids, as 
 it was called in his earlier days. Many of his descend- 
 ants still live at the Falls ; and often, when a boy, I have 
 listened by their firesides, with interest and admiration, to 
 their recital of his wonderful piscatorial achievements. 
 
44 Notes. 
 
 NOTE 14 — PAGE 2 2. 
 
 Of Neef, the child of nature plain, 
 Apostle Pestalozzian. 
 
 Joseph Neef was a pupil of Pestalozzi, of Switzerland. 
 He was brought to this country about the year 1809, by 
 Mr. William McClure, the philosopher. He kept school 
 for several years in the " Octagon/ ' or " Smith's Folly/' 
 as it was sometimes called, a building which belonged to 
 the Smith estate, and stood upon the brow of a hill over- 
 looking the Ridge Road. It was torn down a few years 
 ago, and its site has recently been quarried away. Neef 
 was, indeed, a child of nature, and a jolly pedagogue. He 
 took part in all the sports of his boys, and taught without 
 books, using slates, black-boards and other contrivances. 
 When roaming the country with his boys, as was often his. 
 custom, he encouraged them to hunt for curious plants, 
 flowers, minerals, etc., about which he would talk to them. 
 — Early History of the Falls of Schuylkill, etc. , by Charles 
 V. Hagner. 
 
 Henry Pestalozzi, or Pestaluz, was a Swiss philosopher, 
 who was born in 1745, and died in 1827. He was the in- 
 ventor of a new mode of instruction for youth, and was 
 the author of several valuable works, in which he advanced 
 his peculiar ideas on the subject of education. He was- 
 highly honored by his own and other nations, and carried 
 on his plans of tuition under the patronage of the Helvetic 
 government, at Stanz, Berne, and other places in Switzer- 
 land. 
 
 note 15 — p*ge 22. # 
 
 Of White, the prophet-souled and brave, 
 
 Who melted first to heat and light,. 
 And to our ho?nes and workshops gave 
 
 The stony-hearted Anthracite. 
 
 Hagner, in his history of the Falls, speaks of the Josiah 
 White here referred to, as one of the most energetic, far- 
 seeing men he ever knew — one of those who are always- 
 pushing out ahead of the age in which they live. He built 
 rolling-mills and wire factories; he contrived grates for 
 utilizing anthracite coal, and he originated the SchuylkilL 
 
Notes, 45 
 
 Navigation Company, the Fairmount dam and water-works, 
 and the Lehigh Navigation Company. It was in the roll- 
 ing-mill of White & Hazard that the first practically suc- 
 cessful use of anthracite coal was made. It is said that on a 
 certain occasion, after the hands in the mill had been for a 
 long time trying, without success, to make the anthracite 
 coal burn, they became exasperated, threw a large quantity 
 of the " black stones ' ' into the furnace, shut the doors, 
 and left the mill ; but one of them, going back a short 
 time afterward, for a jacket which he had left in the mill, 
 discovered a tremendous fire in the furnace. He immedi- 
 ately called all hands, and they ran through the rolls three 
 separate heats of iron with that one fire. It was thus dis- 
 covered that all anthracite coal wanted to ignite it was 
 time, and to be " let alone." 
 
 NOTE 1 6 — PAGE 2 2. 
 
 Of Smith, the provost and divine, 
 Who learning loved, and dinners fine. 
 
 Dr. Smith, an eminent Episcopalian divine, and first 
 Provost of the College (now the University) of Pennsyl- 
 vania, resided at the Falls, in the house now occupied by 
 Dr. J. K. Uhler. It is related that the Doctor, who was 
 celebrated, among other things, for his fondness of good 
 dinners, once undertook to reprimand Godfrey Schronk 
 for fishing on a Sunday — when Schronk replied, " Doctor, 
 if your dinner was at the bottom of the Schuylkill, you 
 you would be very apt to fish for it." — Hagner. 
 
 NOTE 17 — PAGE 2 2. 
 
 Of Sims, who ate from golden plate, 
 The wealthy lord of broad estate. 
 
 Joseph Sims, a man of large wealth, had a fine country 
 seat, many years ago, where North Laurel Hill Cemetery 
 now extends. According to a tradition, which I have 
 heard Prof. Wm. Wagner and others recount, his family 
 frequently dined from golden plate, or from silver plate 
 in-lined with gold. 
 
46 Notes. 
 
 NOTE 18 — PAGE 2 2. 
 
 Of Carson — blessings on his head ! 
 Who succoring came, in hour of dread. 
 
 Dr. Joseph Carson, now and for many years Professor of 
 Materia Medica and Pharmacy, in the University of Penn- 
 sylvania, was reared at the Falls of Schuylkill. The public 
 school buildings are upon the old Carson property. Dur- 
 ing the cholera epidemic of 1832, Prof. Carson, who had 
 just returned from India, rendered valuable service both at 
 the Falls and Manayunk. 
 
 NOTE 19 — PAGE 23. 
 Such fare Savarin sure would glad. 
 Brillat Savarin, a distinguished French writer, publicist 
 and gastronome, who was born in 1755, and died in 1826. 
 He was the author of a curious book, entitled The Physi- 
 ology of Taste ; or, Transcendental Gastronomy. 
 
 NOTE 20 — PAGE 24. 
 
 Above the highway, rising bold, 
 The pillared Mifflin house behold. 
 
 The mansion once occupied by the soldier and states- 
 man, Thomas Mifflin, the first Governor of Pennsylvania, 
 under the new constitution, is still standing at the Falls of 
 Schuylkill, in good preservation. It has become a hotel 
 and lager-beer saloon, and has connected with it a brewery 
 and vaults for storing the beer. It had the reputation of 
 being haunted. 
 
 NOTE 21 — PAGE 26. 
 
 Where once, with many a toss and quiver. 
 Went tumbling down the Noisy River. 
 
 One of the Indian names of the Schuylkill was Ganshe- 
 wehanna y the " Noisy Water, " so called because, before 
 the building of Fairmount dam, the river was subject to 
 the rise and fall of the tide ; which made, at places where 
 its bed was irregular and rocky, falls or descents, where, at 
 the going out of the tide, the water ran or fell with some 
 violence or shock. — Keyser. 
 
Notes. 47 
 
 NOTE 22 PAGE 26. 
 
 St. Davids named, from Welchmen's saint. 
 Early in the last century a number of Philadelphia gen- 
 tlemen, among whom were many Welchmen, built a fish- 
 ing house at the foot of a hill, and by the side of the old 
 falls. To this house and the society which met in it, the 
 name "Fort St. Davids' ' was given, in honor of the pa- 
 tron saint of Wales. John Dickinson, the author of the 
 Fanner 1 s Letters, and one of our country's most distin- 
 guished patriots, was a member of this society. The Falls 
 of Schuylkill was known in old times as Fort St. Davids. 
 An interesting account of this establishment is given in 
 Hagner's History of the Falls. 
 
 NOTE 23 — PAGE 28. 
 
 Sternly commanded to retrace 
 
 The route by which their haughty race 
 
 Ancestral \ centuries before, 
 
 Had come on conquering tide of war. 
 
 According to a tradition among the Lenni-Lennapee, or 
 "original people," their ancestors, in past ages, had emi- 
 grated eastward from the Mississippi, conquering and ex- 
 pelling, on their way, the race of " mound-builders. ' ' 
 
 NOTE 24 — PAGE 28. 
 
 Tradition tells — a sad-voiced tale — 
 How clung the Indians to this vale. 
 
 The Falls of Schuylkill is said to have been the last spot 
 deserted by the Indians, who inhabited this part of the 
 United States. 
 
 NOTE 25 — PAGE 30. 
 
 Here, over forest, feld y and fen, 
 
 Once stretched the manor lands of Penn. 
 
 The estate or manor of Lansdowne, once the property 
 of Governor John Penn, contained two hundred acres, ex- 
 tending from Sweet-Brier, in Fairmount Park, to Belmont 
 and George's Hill. 
 
48 Nates. 
 
 NOTE 26 — PAGE 30. 
 Here strayed the bard, and, happy lot, 
 Found sweet contentment in a cot. 
 Tom Moore. 
 
 NOTE 27 PAGE 30. 
 
 And hither, in eclipse of fa7ne, 
 A Bonaparte and Bourbon came. 
 
 Lansdowne mansion was for a time the residence of Jo- 
 seph Bonaparte, ex-king of Spain, and Louis Phillippe was 
 a guest of Judge Peters, at Belmont. 
 
 NOTE 28 — PAGE 31. 
 
 Beneath the hemlocks of Belmont, 
 Freedom'' s nobility were wont 
 To seek repose, and friendship fit, 
 In Peters— jurist, statesman, wit. 
 
 Belmont, in Fairmount Park, was the birth-place and 
 Tesidence of the distinguished Judge Richard Peters. "On 
 this place, twenty-five years ago, was still standing what 
 Downing describes as the grandest avenue of hemlocks in 
 America. These trees were centenarians, in the perfection 
 of their growth, ninety feet high, some draped with im- 
 mense masses of English ivy." — Keyser. 
 
 All the notable men of the post-Revolutionary time, who 
 resided in or near Philadelphia, or who visited the city, 
 became the guest of Judge Peters, who has been designa- 
 ted as " a patriot, legislator, and jurist, and a pioneer in 
 the agriculture of Pennsylvania. He wrote excellent songs, 
 told the best story, and was regarded as the most noted 
 wit of his time. ,, — Col. Forney 1 s Anecdotes. 
 
 NOTE 29 — PAGE 31. 
 
 And here, from wondering shore to shore, 
 
 Franklin sent fire electric o'er 
 
 The Schuylkill 's waves. 
 Franklin, writing to Peter Collinson, in 1748, says 
 -" Spirits, at the same time, are to be fired by a spark sent 
 from side to side through the river, without any other con- 
 ductor than the water; an experiment which we some 
 time since performed, to the amazement of many." — Par- 
 ton's Life and Times of Benjamin Franklin.