f O ' ,0 ■Jsi* i Mm Elf OEIS AT HAVA^^A, N. Y., ^ITH pESCRIPTIYE PoEMS "The glen, the glen— the silent gleu! Oh, how I love its solitude !^'— Neale. BY H. C. WINTON. i^ /_ky i- Jy -rQ^ ITHACA, N. Y.: ANDRU9, McCHAIN & CO., STEAM PRINTERS. 1868. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year ISCS, BY L. G. WINTON, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Northern District of New York. 3*5-3 r ^ \ y George M. Ellwood, Esq., contains much that is 'serviceable to its visitors. 48 especially during heavy freshets, they present magiiifieeBt views. The glens and cascades near the head of Seneca Lake, in some respects have a united or common interest, no two of them being ahke, each adds to the attraction of the oth- ers. Taken together, they form a circle of natural beauties that are seldom surpassed. Less than a day's pleasant drive from the Glen at Havana, brings the visitor to Enfield Falls, or to the Falls of Taug- hannock, near Goodwin's Point on Cayuga Lake,* celebrated r their great height and the picturesque embellishments of tbeir rural surroundings. Besides other summer resorts, Cayuta Lake, a small sheet of water in the town of Catharine, a few miles from Havana, is much visited by pic-nic and fishing parties. It is pleas- antly situated, and is rapidly growing into public favor. In Schuyler County, also, two other small lakes may be found near its western borders, in the town of. Tyrone, which afford varied attractions to the visitor. These three coquet- ish minor lakes, from their situation, flow into the Susque- hanna River; while the majority of the larger ly,kes in the State are tributary to the St. Lawrence. N^t far from Little Lake, in Tyrone, is the famous Crystal Sprii3g,f in Barrington, Yates Co., which attracts many vis- itors. *The village of Ithaca at the head of this lake is also much noted for^ts enchanting, varied, and beautiful scenery. t This spring or fountain in which nature and art in one sense might both be considered as stockholders, yvas discovered while sinking a well during the oil excitement a few years since. At the depth of forty three feet the waters burst forth from their subterranean caverns, and have since continued uninterruptedly te flow ; for them valuable medicinal qualities are claimed. The nearest Eail Koad Station to Crystal Spring is at Starkey. 49 P EscRiPTiYE Poems. McOLUEE'S GLEN. [1857.] BY JOHN B. LOOK. IIov/ wild the scene ! How wond'rons wild ! Here Nature lived when but an infant child, And here her leisure hours devoted all To play strange freaks with this terrestrial ball : One hour she lifted rock on rock most high. Another, planned a flower to please the eye ; — A mason quite, and yet a painter good : She piled the rocks o'er which to leap the flood. And then these flowers, with richly painted hue, (None lovelier graced a bank or richer grew,) All, all were touched with that Inventive hand. As if this art was at its sole command. This moss on which we re^st, — oh, beauteous green- A carpet quite ; — none richer e'er was seen ; — These trees ! ah, how they shield us from the rays Of burning heat that come in burning days. 'Tis all complete : — the brooklet, rock and bow'r, The carpet green, the shrub and scented flow'r, All, all commingle in this grandeur wildf— By Nature reared when Nature was a child. We'll rest ns here ; and now behold the scene : The rocks are rough and dark the deep ravine ; 4 50 The sunllglit lingers never where we tread, And cheering rays ne'er find a welcome bed ; But lo, we hear the water's awful fall, And feel the spray hie up the dampened wall; Here, at " high twelve" the wand'rer finds it night, And, though the sky is clear and heaven is bright, lie dwells amid a never ending storm, Without one beam his chilly limbs to warm ; He sees the drops that leap from yonder hight, And in the darkness deems them orbs of liglit ; But scarce they live ere they are doomed to die, And coldly pass us as they onward fij. How much like time, how much like man they arc : A moment here, then gone, we know not whore. But so it is with time, with men, with all The fleeting things on this terrestrial ball ; A moment given, as quick as thought 'tis fled , — To day we live, to-morrow will be dead; To day we're happy with the blessings given, To-morrow '11 find us in the courts of Heaven. 'Tis fchange man loves, and Nature placed it here ; Just look below and see tke sunlight clear ; A rainbow now doth overhang the vault, "Where quick the rushing waters make a halt. Ah, " bow of promise," welcome to pur sight. Thrice welcome, rainbow, to our new-born light ; — Too long we tarried in that drear abode, "Where shadows die along the watery road. "Where every crackling bush doth tlirill the heart. And day and night ne'er meet and never part. Good night, then darkness, and warm welcome day, "With varied bow, caused by the leaping spray ; Here once again we find the wild-flower's bed : Fresh blooming roses, with their petals spread, 51 Tlie blue Viola nestle as tliey 're prest, And woodland-songsters sing tlie gods to rest, While ev'ry drop loolcs like a world on fire. Hung up in space for man alone t' admire. Ah, Robert Burns, you 'd written not of Doon, Had you here reveled in the month of June, Had you perchance, this lovely dell espied, With Highland Mary by your throbbing side, The banks of Doon would ne'er have raised your pen, ' Til you 'd exhausted this — McClupwE 's Glen. But here we are, now at our journey's end, These awful crags no mortal can descend ; The waters plunge some hundred feet, or more. And frothy madness hugs the rock-bound shore ; The trees around are drench'd as in a show'r, ■ So leaps the misty liquid up the tow'r ; So long the rocks have wept, perhaps in fear, That all are furrowed with a brineless tear, 'Til every flower, in imitation true, Has learned to weep an innocent adieu. No longer gaze, our hearts with sadness fill ; — Let's trace our windiiig course up yonder hill ; Let's mount the brow with steady step and firm. For day 's declining, night will soon return ; And who would tarry mid these awful- wilds, Where howling waters echo forth for miles. And hear sweet daylight, dying in the west. Proclaiming, man, here take your nightly rest ! Then, as we'd hasten from the owls and bats, We'll rest us not 'till safe on yonder fiats. And there, at evening, view the last grand leap, Of tired waters o 'er the rock bound steep. The watery moon, with face half hid from view And beams just dampened with the falling dew, 52 Now smiling, looked o'er hilltops far away. As if to see how Sei had spent the day, . Then o'er the mead she kindly threw a sl^en. And dropped the mountain veil that hung between. And in full glory gazed upon our earth, — A full-grown moon, that seem'd full grown at birth. Now sit we on a flow'r-deck'd, moss-grown, knoll. And view the trembling waters, as they roll From off a plane inclined, with rapid force, A& if before they'd traveled o'er the course And motion wished, to leap from yonder brow, "Where stars are mirrored and are tumbling now. You've leaped your last, the hazard race is o'er, ^he Glen's behind, the pebbly brook before ; Here moon-kiss'd rosebuds bend them o'er your breast. And new-born zephyrs fan you into rest. — Our thoughts run backward as the moon runs high. We lose these scenes for those long since gone by ; Young Indians here were wont to skip and play. And court their lovers at the death of day^ "When all was quiet, save th6 wigwam smoke, And mighty forests felt no white man's stroke. Young red men rambled in this lone retreat. And whispered love in native accents sweet; Here Jiative lips have pressed on native brows ; Here love exchanged her siipple, earnest vows ; Heri6 the " Great Spirit," through their noble "Chief," Hath bound the Squaw and Indian in one sheaf; ■Here death hath been, and yet we see no stones To mark the resting of their ancient bones ; A nation slept within this loved aoode. Ere white man's axe had marked the traveled road ; — Here once a village, of no small renown, An^Indian village, — ^lovely wigwam town. 53 Was seen by men who sought to kill their " Braves," And drive the weak from Seneca's blue waves ; Here, too. Queen Catharine bore a noble part,' — She loved the red man as she loved her heart, — Montour her name, a name forever dear To those familiar with her bold career. But, hold ! on yonder mound we mark a trace Of some who tarried with this exiled race ; Some kindly hand hath reared a marble white. That yonder glistens in the moon-beams bright. Sleep on, sleep on ; oh, red man, soundly sleep ; For should you wake, 'twould only be to weep ; The place jon'd know not — Brothers all are gone , — They lingered, sighed, and left us one by one. The iron horse — you know not what I mean — A thing of life now flies the hills between ; The merry boatmen sing their midnight song. On the broad " ditch" that lies your grave along. A little way, Havana rears its head. Where fifteen hundred Avhite men daily tread ; Erom here we gaze, and lo, yon lofty spire. In moon-beams, looks like monument on fire ; A thousand lights in thousand dwellings burn,— © You'd call them wigwams, — that's the Indian term ; — The mills ai*e sounding — what know you of Mills ? Nought save one George, who lives just o'er tho hills; A man of ninety, ninety two, or more. Who oft has told us tales of days of yore ; You scarce would know him, Indian, should you rise. The " Master" soon will call him to the skies ; Old age has robbed him of his youthful bloom, And soon, like you, he'll sleep within the tomb. But, we must leave you — no, we'll not go yet, — We've lingered long, our locks are getting wet ; 54 But ere we go, there's one tiling more we'll tell : Soon cm yon rise you'll hear a College bell; The " People's College" there will lift its dome. Where books and labor '11 find an equal home. K'ow, fare-thee-well ; sleep on, and take thy rest, — We'll to our home — 'tis poor, but there we're blest, And as we go we'll mind us of ^^our race, By seeing Catharine's name in sightly place , — Charles Cook has reared a monument — 'tis well , — Its name "Moxtouu." — now Indian, fare-thc.e-welL THE INDIAIT BTJSIAL-GEOUITD. -'- Near Havana, N. Y. BY II. C, WINTON. While on this height I stand and gaze O'er distant hills and plains around. One spot I view — a sacred place — The Indian Burial-Ground. That spot which the chieftians of yore- Brave men, who have gone to decay- Most fondly regarded with awe, In years that are faded away. How little the Indian thought That the tribes which Catharine led, So soon would be scattered for aye. To join their companions — the dead, Por the red man truly believed. When the war-cry ceased to resound^ Manitou would give him a home. Beyond the lone Burial-Ground. 55 And he thought, perhaps, that in tune, These hills he hftd lumted around, A spacious hunting-iield would form, Encircling" the Burial-G round. In these happy realms he would roam ; In these happy realms he Avould stay ; No sorrow or trouble should com^ ; No clouds should obscure endlatss day. It was here his fathers were laid, And often he viewed yonder mcfiind, Where the red men slumber in dust, — The Indian Burial-Ground. Then long let their memory live, Let their resting j^lace ever be found, Of the ones who sleep 'neatli the sod, Within that lone Burial-Ground. THE BEIDE OP THE SEUEOA. A ROMANCE OF THE GLEN. BY JOIIX WILSOX. 'Tis night — the moon is in the sky — Low zephyrs through the woodlands sigh ; The autumn foliage, broAvn and sear, Tells of the quickly passing year ; No sounds disturb the still repose Which reigns o'er hill, and vale, and close, *A nom deplume of an attache of the Havana Joitrnal. Since his impromp- tu articles*, prose as well as poetry, appeared in the Journal, he has returned to "metric En,e;land," the land ot'his birth. In "setting up," the "case" and She "composing stick" were the only MSS, he used. 50 Save the low murmurs of tins Glctf, As leaps its stream from cliff to fen, List ! whence that footstep in the dell — So light, so stealthily it fell. It seemed as if a spirit would Enjoy the sjdvan solitude. Again it ftills, more loud and clear. As to yon^Dower it draweth near. ***** This hour Waubuno seeks his bride, Thia night he ling'reth at her side, — O'er hill and flood, o'er plain and vale. Hath he pursued a winding trail ; Lest some of stern Arouski's braves, Who dwell by Seneca's dark waves. Should meet him in his secret way, Ere the red East proclahns the day, "Within that leafy, emerald bower, "Waoniasea waits the hour "Which to her willing ear will tell That tale, whose words she loveth well. At eve she left the wigwam's shade. And to this dell her footsteps strayed, — This bower for lovers' converse made, Shielded by woodland and cascade. Her father's hate she knoweth well. Upon her lover it well nigh fell, "When in the thickest of the strife, Arouski sought Waubuno's life. And would have slain him, but the day "Was won by the adverse array ; And, on that field her father swore A deathless hate to him who wore The plume, red with his warrior's gore. 57 Taken, by night, in ambush daj-k, "Waubuno was the arroVs mark. Carried before his ruthless foe, The morrow would his death-song know. That morning came — to him tlie last — '■ No more to tread the woodlands vast, Would Waubuno await the day. Or share th' exciting chase or fray. ^Thc hour drew near, the warriors round Assembled on the fatal ground — The chieftain, nerved to meet his fate, Stood, — calm, unmoved, erect, sedate. — But, ere the unerring blow was given — Ere Waubuno's red crest was riven — Waoniasea stood between Him and the tomahawk's dark sheen. The arm was lower'd that aimed the blow. Arouski's further will to know. His daughter to her father clung, Her lover's life in balance hung, — Arouski's stoic soul was brave. His highest aim was glory's grave : Yet had love's tendrils round that soul Found genial soil and held control. Thus when his daughter's tears implored, He bent to her his soul adored : Waubuno's forfeit life was spared ! His pledge the ransom'd warrior gave, No more to wield the bow or glaive In strife, against Arouski's band. Or tread the Seneca's green strand. The chief departed — far away His nation and his wigwam lay. 58 But, ere lie leffc, Arouski's daughter With skiff had cross'd the lake's blue water, And joined Walibuno in the fen "Which laj^ between the lake and Glen. And there another pledge was made — What recks it what was thought or said ? What promise giyen — what Avords untold, Affection there did first unfold ? * *' -* * * * The silver moon has mounted high, A breeze has risen — o'er the sk}'- The fleecy clouds begin to fly. Telling the hour of morning nigh. — Lo ! on the lake's expanse of blue. Why, at this hour, the birch canoe ? This night Waoniasea meets Her lover in the wood's retreats — Those deep retreats of vale and dell, Which suit Love's oft-told tale so well. — And hither hath Wabuno come To bear Arouski's daughter home : And that her skiff upon the lake. Fast nearing, now, the Glen's green brake. ***** "W^aoniasea ! if thy flight Far from thy father's home this night, Brings to thy bosom one regret — Turn back — thy footstei^s from me set ; Twice in this Glen, in secret, we Have met, and proved Love's constancy. For thee I braved thy father's ire ; Now, 'gainst my life his braves conspire ; He heard and knows my love for thee ; Ho knows my power could set thee free) 59 If, all unmindful of ray vow. ^ I led my warriors 'gainst l^im now. But, if thou art my prize, 'twill be Throug-li naught save bloodless victory. No foe of his I now can be — My life I owe to him, through thee. And homeward would I rather go Without thee, than that thou shouldst know Those pangs which from Repentance flow. Again I'll track my lonely way To where my waiting warriors lay, Now, say what Fate doth bid thee tell — *I go !' or that dread word 'Farewell !' " •■'Nay, my Waubuno ! — ^never ! — never !^— Can the blest ties which bind us, sever ! Not though my father's braves appear. From out each dell and valley sear, Would I my recent steps retrace, Or let my love to fear give place. By the words we here have spoken — By that promise, still unbroken — By the love thou made me know, Hear me — hear me — 'I will go 1' Little thou know'st of woman's love. To think that fear can shake or move The trust within her heart Yes — I go — with thee I go — To scenes of joy, or scenes of woe; Fortune's sky or dark or fair, All thy griefs and joys to share — Here, beside the cascade's flow, List me once again — I go !" * * * * • * 60 A canoe is on the shore, Its paddles idle lay ; She who owned it, now no more In that frail light skiff will stray The Seneca's waters o'er, Or around its woodland bay ! Gray tints are in the Eastern sky — Tints which proclaim the sun is nigh : The lovers onward wend their way To where Waubuno's warriors lay. Two hours yet — and he will gain The thickets of yon woody plain : There, all secure from boding fears, His bride may stay her flowing tears. Two short-lived hours — then the day Can shine upon them as it may ; For, safe amid his warrior band, Waubuno dreads no hostile hand. Hark ! whence that sound which echoes o'er Seneca's now distant shore ? Comes it from Arouski's band ? Yes I — his braves now wield the brand ! Nearer comes the angry sound, Borne along the valley ground ; Their chief, Arouski, draweth nigh, Eager th' expectant foe to spy : On wings of Love and Hate he flies, A victim, and his child, the prize ! ■« * * * * Stern Arouski, in the fray. When he raises high the brand, No signs of mercy doth betray ; All must die beneath his hand. 61 To list tlie supplicating voice, Or stay of life the ebbing sand, • Never was the chieftain's choice. ****** Within a dell, where streaks of day Peer'd through the leaflet's tinted spray, "Waubuno, wounded — dying — lay ! Arouski's dart had pierced his breast ; And now he wished death as a rest : 'Twould ease the pangs of mortal pain, 'Twas near — his life-blood dyed the plain. — Waoniasea o'er him bending, "With unavailing care was tending The wound her father's shaft had ope'd — And, as she fondly, vainly cop'd To staunch her lover's welling wound, »She o'er his well-loved form had swooned But now Arouaki reached the scene. And peer'd the quivering leaves between- Then, rushing where his victim lay, He tore his daughter's form away : And to the dying chieftain said : "Waubuno, die ! My daughter's ^m Once saved ^ee from impending harm : And this return thou mad'st to-day — Thou wiled her from her home away : See ! now I claim thy dying breath ; I triumph o'er thee in thy death !" ***** Waoniasea watched the sight, "Which closed her lover's soul in night ; Then, in the sternness of despair. Had vanished every sign of c«re. 62 A strange, weird loos she gave lier sire, Then viewed the victim of his ire — And said, in tones which ne'er misgive — "Naught is now left for ichich to live" Arouski's band take up the trail "Wliich downward leads nnto the vale, Where the Glen looks upon the bay The warriors left at early day. Where rolls the torrent down the Glen, There is a grove — -'once 'twas a fen. Above that fen there was a dell — Waoniasea loved it well. Here, her Waubiino once had roved Alone with her his spirit loved. Here at eve, again she si rayed, While zepliyrs through the woodlands played. — Lo ! amid the evening gloom, She hath found Waubuno's plume ! ***** The soul bereft of Faith and joy, Eecks not of Hope or Fear : Its instincts prompt it to destroy The spark that ling'reth here — Bereft of bliss, it seeks for death : Sejeks it within the lonely cave — O'er the steep cliff, 'neath the deep wave ! ***** "High is the ciifF — yon wave that rolls Can bring a rest to weary souls ! Kot darker is its eddying tide Than woes which through my bosom glide. — Ha ! see his plume ! I know it well — One moon ago, just here it fell, 63 Wnen, o'er this ledge, ere yet 'twas day, He bore me in his arms away. Ilark ! whence that voice which thrills my son] ?— Its Rccents doth my breast condole ! 'Tis he ! come from the Spirit-land. Lo ! no^v I see him wave his hand ! List ! now again I hear it — "Come !" —This rock is steep— yet it can close The record of my withering \voes. In the dark stream which 'neath it flows. lie calls ! I'll tempt the flood below : My loved "NVaubuno !— watch— I go !" * • *- *- -« * There upon the gurgling stream, ■ Floats a gory form : It held a troubled spirit, It thrilled to Passion's storm. Is the blackness of this water As dark-hued as her soul, \. YVlio thus dishonored Heaven Beneath the torrent's roll ? Speak lightly ! ye who blame her : Unknown to her the charm "Which Faith brings to the bosom When the Evil One would harm. . 'Twas the depth of grief wliich slew her : Of mutual lo^e the dearth, — 'Twas a woman's deep affection — The purest— best — on earth. | ***** Remorse will seize thee, guilty Chief ! f:hy latest hours are doomed to grief; 64 Grief, and the demon of Despair, Shall yet thy heart-striugs madly tear : By thee thy daughter's hopes were crushed, Her love — her truth — her spirit hushed, 111 dark Oblivion's vale — Waubuno's spectral ghost hath moved Before thee, wheresoe'er thou roved : But when the sable form of Death Requires of thee thy ling'ring breath — Thy daughter's shapeless corse shall be Chief phantom of thy misery ! There's a legend that, at midnight hour, Within the Glen, around the Fall, "And what was once her bower, TVaoniasea and her lover, In spirit-form are seen to hover : And o'er the eddying streamlet's hum, Floats through the air one soft word — "Come T While high above the torrent's flow Are heard the answering words — "/ go /" Journal Office, Aug. 28, 186Y. TO SENEGA LAKE. On thy fair bosom, silver lake, The wild swan spreads his snowy sail, And round his breast the ripples break, As down he bears before the gale. On thy fair bosom, waveless stream, The dipping paddle echoes far, And flakes in the moonlight gleam, And bright reflects the polar star. 65 The waves along thy pebbly shore, As blows the north wind, heave their fpam, And curl around the dashing oar, As kte the boatman hies him home. How sweet, at set of sun, to view Thy golden mirror spreading wide ; And see the mist of mantling blue, Float round the distant mountain's side. At midnight hour, as shines the moon, A sheet of silver spreads below ; And swift she cuts, at highest noon, Light clouds, like Avreaths of purest snow. On thy fair bosom, silver lake, O ! I could ever sweep the oar. When early birds at morning wake, And eveuins: tells us toil is o'er. THE TWO EATS, IN THE HAVANA GLEN. BT JOHX WILSON. Two veritable hats* are here, As very plainly does appear : H§re have they been for many a year. And %vill be for many more : * The two objects known as " The Hats", and which are situated in yie bed of the stream in the upper portion of the Glen, are owing to the geological for- mation of the rock. At a remote period, a " kem,'" or piece of stone, becom- ing- embedded in the mass, while in a state of fusion, and, subsequently, the rock dividing into two portions, the enclosed kern was broken— thus caasiug the phenomena of •' the hats." Similar objects are found in the Hartz moun- ■tains, in Germany. J. W. 5 66 K"o foolisli ■wig'lij^woiild cheat tlie roclr, By cutting them from out the block, Carrying them oft at " midnight clock" T' increase his wardrobe's store. But, how came this to be their station, Is food for deep investigation : What made this rock their situation, Can any tell ? Perhaps some evil spirit here, Has counsell'd with a brother seer, How they could hurt the streamlet clear, And on it lay a spell — 'Tv/ould damp a woman's curiosity To seek out the precise velocity; And tell the depth of animosity, With which the fiends came down. Doubtless they " lit" upon their heads, Which fastened in these rocky beds. Were burned up by the sun that sheds Its rays here at high noon : Or, mayhap, here two " callants" fought, By purest hatred hither brought ; And, having mutual mischief wrought, Like the Kilkenny Cats, — Fighting and fighting, with divers wails, And making many bloody trails. Then, in default of genuine tails, Hereon did leave their JIafs. But, yet, the truth appears to be. This is a natural mystery — One of the many which we see Spread all around this Glen ; 67 And, like all things beneath the sun, Once known the wonderment is done ; Once guaged, the mystery has flown — It puzzles but till — then. OATHAEmE MOIirTOUE. THE QUEEN OF THE SENEGAS. BY H. C. WINTON. "The prondept of all in the hostile array, "Was young Thurenserah, the Dawn of the Day ; The League's Atotarho ! the holdest in fight ; The wisest in council ! in form the most bright : The fleetest of foot, the most skilled in the chase, The glory and boast of the Iroquois race.— Street. Queen Catharine formerly resided near McClure's Glen, at Cath- arinestown (now Havana, N. Y.) Her village was destroyed at the time of Sullivan's Expedition, in 1779. Long before the Indians had entirely abandoned their favorite hunting-grounds in this region, the hardy pioneers had commenced their settlements. One of these — probably the first white navigator of Seneca Lake — George Mills, Esq. — was no stranger to the Senecas or Cayugas. His meetings with Catharine Montour and her people were always friendly. Louis Phillippe, while traveling in North America, an exile, was the guest of this pioneer, in his humble log cabin. At the ceremony of laying the corner stone of The Peoples Col- lege, Mr. Mills, although at the advanced age of ninety -four, took an active part, carrying a volume of the Scriptures, while walking in the procession, surrounded by assembled thousands. When he first came to Havana, he found but two families residing in the valley at the head of Seneca Lake. Their neighbors were at Elmira, the Friend's Settlement, and Geneva ; at the latter place there was but one log cabin, containing five persons. This pioneer, at the early age of fourteen, had served iu the Revolution. 68 Much concerning Catharine Montour is shrouded in mysterj^ but the story of her life, connected with that of her people, the Swan-ne-hoh-honts, or Senecas, one of the Six IS'ations of New York Indians, can never fail to be an interesting one. The Iroquois, or Six Nations, embraced in their domain the beautif- ful lakes and streams of the Empire State, many of which still retain their simple aboriginal names. While contemplating the history of this singular race, we must admit, in the language of Street, that we find " one more melancholy instance of a once powerful and happy people entirely disappearing from the face of the earth ;" and also to quote from the writings of Stone, the eminent Indian Biographer, "the Indians haye had no writer to relate their own side of the story."' At some time, kind reader, perchance you heve been To a wild rocky dell, now called McClure's Glen, "With its caverns and cliffs, and o'erhanging trees, "Whose branches keep time with the sweet summer breeze ; To approach and behold the varied delights, Here, with exquisite charms, all Nature invites ; In silence we gaze where the wild waters foam. Enraptured in thought as enchanted we roam. — Not far from tliis spot, as traditions relate, , The red men once held their rude councils of state ; Though simple their habits, their friendships were pure. And the queen of the tribe, was Catherine Montour ; And when Sullivan came, as conquerors come, "With the shrill-sounding fife, and roll of the drum : 'Twas here she then dwelt — fair queen of the valley — The pride of the red men who round her would rally. The smoke of her wigwam no longer is seen. And the war dance is held no more on the green : The hills with wild war cries no longer resound ; Her braves are now sleeping in yon grassy mound ; And of that lone spot a few thoughts I would wiite— 69 So help me, my mnse, in the words I indite ; For the red men rest near the pale faces there, With Ilali-wen-ne-joh, now, they're free from earth's care : And there in the morn, Jis-ko-ko doth sing Sweet carolling notes, foreteller of Spring ; While Seneca Inlet, still, murmuring stream, Flows gently along ; it disturbs not the dream Of those who there sleep, near the green, grassy shore. Departed from earth, to return — nevermore. But, now of the red men few traces remain, Who so freely once roamed o'er hill and o'er plain ; And all who here knew them are passing away. For ev'rything earthly soon goes to decay, — Like the frost of the morn, 'neatli autumn's bright sun, Our brief lives are ended when scarce they've begun ; But, 3'et, there was one — can you guess who I mean ? But a few years since was his aged form seen : Light were his footsteps as he came from the hill's, For most hearty and hale was Father Geokge Mills. The sons of the woods he had known long and well, And of former days many tales he could tell, Of vrild hunting sports, in happy days of yore. When the streams were dipt with the Indian's oar. Some who read these lines, perhaps may remember,. A beautiful day, ere the ides of September — Eighteen fifty-eight, I believe, was the year, When such a vast concourse of people were here To -witness a scene most impressive and grand ; There came many wise men from over the land ; For the corner stone of a College was laid, While thousands of people around were arrayed. In the pioneer's hands the dearly prized page- It had cheered him in youth, and solaced in age ; 70 Tho' whitened Ms locks, and tbo' worn was liis frame, lu the eT'ning of life, naught caring for fame, A tear in his eye, as he marched in the line, He was thinking, perhaps, of a bj^gone time. When he came, in his youth, to tills beautiful vale "With no road or path, save the Seneca's trail ; When few were the people, the dwellings but two, From the river Chemung, to yon lake of blue ; When the bear and the wolf in the forest held sway ; No wonder that he should have wept on that day ; Or, perhaps he thought of the one who had shared His early life's care — she taken, he spared — The light of his home in the wilderness free, A daughter of Erin, svv'eet Isle of the Sea. But noAV the " Master" of all, hath called him on high. For, Free and Accepted, his time came to die. Hereabouts he dwelt, some threescore years or more. Gladly welcoming all who came to his door : And once to his cabin he welcomed a king, — A prince of proud France — 'twas an uncommon thing. But, still, in the distance yon fair lake remains, Sweet mem'rys recalling of Percival's strains ; And many love tales have been echoed, I ween. O'er its light sparkling waves of glittering sheen ; For its tranquil bosom of clear azure blue. Often has borne the young warrior's canoe. — Most beautiful lake ! thou art ever the same. As when Seneca braves to thee gave their name ; May thy crystal waters, so placid and pure, Keep long in remembrance the name of Montour ; For here the Great Spirit, for purposes ynse, First gave to her people a home 'neath the skies : 'Mid the glens and cascades, which so thickly abound. Where the student of Nature so often is foimd. 71 K^ow there are some things we would ask thee, fair queen, Couldst thou but return, to the valley's bright green; And besides, I would know — if thou canst me tell — In the bright Spirit Land, with thy tribe, is it well ? And then, to recede from that echoless shore, To the regions of earth returning once more, Perhaps you might tell us if time has much changed The hills and the plains where your warriors ranged ; For the wild deer is seen no more on the hill. And long has the horn of the hunter b^en still ; Through the valley is laid a strong iron band. O'er which the swift engine flies fast through the land. Now here is one thing many people would learn, Tradition ha^brought; the tale shall we spurn? Tliat where yonder vast marsh now flames ev'ry year ; AVell — I imidd that one of your chieftains were here, Perhaps he might tell us where'bouts was the spring, That mlt might be madS, for gTeat riches 'twould bring ; And tJiis was a secret — not many knew where, This Indian treasure was guarded with care ; And besides, there are some who gladly would know. If "rock oil" abounds in the regions below; For as strange as it seems — I will be quite plain — Many men here'bouts, have had " oil on the brain." And of what were the teeth* — what aniinal rare, That were found in the vale ? and whence came they there ? — Near the wild wooded glen, where bloom the wild flowers, In your time were the fields of Phinehas Bowers ; Once or twice since then the domain has changed hands, Until huge brick walls now adorn the wide lands, And these massive walls are the Peoples College, Conceived by lovers of art and of knowledge ; * These curious si^ecimens— relics of the Mastodon Maximus^ were found some years since, while excavations were being made, on the lands of the late Hon. Chas. Cook. The writer is rather inclined to the opinion that several of them are at present preserved in the State Cabinet of Natui-al History. "Where the rich and the poor imited may stand, AVhere science and labor may join hand in hand. — Yoa remember the Falls on the west hillside, She-qua-;^ah, so long- of our valley the pride ; Where Sa-go-yea-wa-tha* in route from the late. Toned his clarion voice — " the keeper a^vake." And Aunt Sarah's Falls firmly stand as of yore, O'er which the white waters unceasingly pour ; And though the old land-marks are fast growing few. The cold spring yet remains — near lock number two. « You will see by this that we cherish your fame, Two townships in Schuyler from you take their name ; ^Montour is the younger, and near by is seen, • Iler fair older sister — the town of Catharine ; And another fond link, adds strength to the chain, 'Tis on yon hillside, rising high o'er the plain. Where the ones we have loved, lie suent and cold ; Their joys are all number'd, their sorrows all told — In remembrance of thee, fair Indian maid, We have named the lov'd spot, ^yhere our dear ones are laid ; And there, we yet hope a proud column wall rise, Proqlaiming your worth — pointing up to the skies. And now Forest Maiden, we bid thee adieu. With Hah-wen-ne-yoh rest, Sa-ha-weef so true ; While our beautiful lakes and streams shall endure, Will be cherish'd the name of Cath'rine Montour. Then sleep A-to-tar-ho, thy warriors brave, Like thee Thurenserah, sleep low in the grave ; * Red Jacket. It is a well authenticated fact, that this distinguished Seneca Chief and orator frequently %asited She-qua-rah, "the place of the roaring waters," for practice to increase the volume of his eloquent voice. His Indi- an name signified " the keeper awake." + This word signifies in the language of the Iroquois,'" a vine, " and was also, sometimes used by them as a'terra of aflcction or endearment. 73 On the wave's white crest laving Seneca's shore, 'No more will be seen thy light-feather'd oar, Thy proud Swan-ne-ho-honts, once powerful race, Skannadario's* shores, will never more trace ; Their batteaux no more on Cataraquif ride, As in days that are gone, when thou wert their pride ; Though thy braves never more may darken the plain, Though here their wild war-songs be heard not again ; Yet sleep Thurenserah — the Dawn of the Day — AVhen Hah-wen-ne-yoh calls, we too, must obey. AUTUMN m THE GLEN. BY JOHN WILSOX. The fading leaves are falling now — The Glen survives its flowers — While o'er it sweeps the moaning wyids Of Autumn's gloomy hours : Its summer hues are fading fast. Like hearts which outlive their joy— And soon will come stern winter's blast Its glories to destroy. Around its grey, rock-bound confines October clouds career, — The torent's dirge — the groaning pine — Bewail the fleeting year. With rushing and impetuous sweep Over the cliffs sublime, That gurg'ling torrent rolls Its course Like Life — ^the Sea of Time ! * Lake Ontario. + The River St. Lawrence. 74 A leaf — a sear and wither'd leaf — Falls on tlie rusliing spray : . Tlie waters bear it on their breast, Over the rocks away: — Thus life bears on its eddying wave Griefs — hopes — joys — it hath seen — Leaving no vestige in its course That such have ever been. Ye torrents ! Lifi: and Time I Ye own no tarrying spot below ! Still flowing where the the past hath flov^^n, Still flowing — and to flovv' ! Thus doth 3'on stream tumultuous flow O'er rocks and grottoes brown — O'er clifi"s — past overhanging woods — Down the last Cascade, down. Its fateful page the waning year Hath silently unroll'd : Its joy and sorrow, hope and fear, Past — like a tale long told ! And leaves it on Faitn s brow the while, ]S"o trace of buried care ? Oh, but for Hope — her word and smile — What furrows had been there ! So, in this Glen, where late hath bloomed Fair Summer's flow'ry sheen, The many-tinted leaves now fall The rust'ling boughs between. But Spring will yet restore each leaf— The flowers will bloom again, — And Earth forget her transient grief 'Mid Summer's gentle reign. 75 . THE PEOPLES COLLEGE. "Another Temple to the Architect above."— Wallace. liespectfuUy inscribed to the ixitrons and friends of the Masonic School and Asylum^ at Havana, N. Y. BY II. C. ■\VIXTON. All hail ! thou mammoth pile Of brick, .and stone, and lime, Wherefore so high doth reach Your columns and your walls ? It almost seems as if You were a thing of life, So rapid have you grown. Methinks for some wise end You were conceived and built ; And what is that, now tell ? 'Twas not for palace — no — Commerce — no ; nor war : What then ! ah, now I know, A modern temple, where Art and labor shall combine ; To form the perfect man ; Within whose stately halls The student toils to reach The goal of earthly fame. With wisdom's honors crowned. But why unite the two ? For what good reason now Should lofty science bow. Linked hand in glove with toil ? Wherefore unite with classic lore, MeGhanic hand or plowman's arm ? And dost thou then not know That this the age demands, A people now are great 76 As knowledge guides their hands. " Old things have passed aM^aj'," The times have greatly changed, And he who would be great Must be a working man. By this, I do not mean That 'twas not always thus ; It would be wTong to say, jSTo true great man has ever lived, Who did not work, and often hard. The sense in which I mean Is this, that any branch of art In which you would excel, Or trade, or occupation, Should be known and well, In practice and in theory. But whence this idea ? And from where did it come ? Let me tell you the name Of this edifice grand ; "When perhaps you can guess, What gives to this scheme Such a wonderful zest, 'Tis— The Peoples College, And among its best friends. Of rank and of station. Are lovers of knowledge. Hard working, self-made men, The pulse of the nation. And when one such you find, "Which you can easy do. You'll meet a friend to art And healthy labor, too. 77 And kindred ones there arc "Who, striving- to erect A monument to time — A present and a future good — K'ow watch with eager eye The progress of these walls, 'Twas of such men as these That a Washington came — A Franklin and ">Yebster — And hosts of others, too, AVe can not forget them ; ^ They will he remembered "While America lasts, Or a Europe endures. Their cause was their country, Their prayers for her good ; That cause may it last, Those pray'rs be revered, "While a nation stands forth To present to the world A banner of freedom, Aye, forever unfurl'd — Supported by science. Genial labor and art ; "With these, together joined. Oh who can then foretell The future of our land. And now, before I leave the theme. Your indulgence I ask, and that you With favor will regard the scheme ; And should you chance to see a youth, Perhaps, a wand'ring orphan boy. To whom you'd lend a helpiBg hand. 78 Along the stormy patli of life ; It may be tlien, you'll not forget To point him to the Peoples College, Where he may learn to walk aright — May learn some useful calling, Where he may gather wisdom's fruits To store away for future needs. For such a noble cause as this In which all are interested. May it be hoped that you Will give at least, if nothing more — Your earnest, kind, good wishes ? But, if with fortune you are blest, Kemember, funds are still required. And legacies are not refused ; (In fact they're really needed ;) While small amounts for one great end, Together, make a vast account ; As sparkling rills and rippling streams. The sweeping, mighty river form. In such a work, to be enrolled, 'Twere worthy king or bishop. To be engaged in doing good, Should be our high ambition ; For he who strives to aid the young, Ascending in the paths of truth. Fulfills a heavenly mission. In Sacred Writ these words are said, To them we should give earnest heed ; — Upon the waters cast thy bi^ead, » And after many days have flown, To thee, perchance, it may return. 79 Thus while the student step by step, Cheei*'d by your gracious smile, A kindly word — a helping hand, Is toiling up the rugged height, Where fame and honor hold their sway, In the golden realms of knowledge ; He will look back and bless the day That formed the Peoples College. . THE GAVE OP THE E0H0E3. IX THE IIAYAXA GLEX. BY JOHN WILSON. Echoing — edioing — echoing ever, The silv'ry -tinted pearl-drops sever A way through the rifted rock. Echoing — echoing — with ceaseless flow, Adown their wave-Avorn path tliey go. Echoing — echoing — echoing ever. What do the echoes say? — . They tell of the Past, its changes vast, And the ages flown away ; Echoing — echoing — with ceaseless flow, Over the rocky ledge they go. Dripping, dripping, dripping, Noiselessly they flow ; — Flowing, flowing, flowing, Into the dell below : Then, o'er the cascade wildly dashing, Over the emerald valley si3lashing. In the golden sunbeams flashing. Echoing, — echoing — echoing. With a tinkling, liquid sound; *,• Echoing, echoing, ever The cavernous vault around ; . 60 Gliding, gliding, gliding, Like the Past to Eternity's sliore : Vanishing, yauishing, vanishing. Like mist on the mountain's hoar. Mino-ling, mingling, mingling, With the drops which have gone before ; Like the hopes and fears Of the buried years, • That are gone for evermore : Or like the graves 'Xeath the ocean's waves, "Which the heedless billows travel o'er, Where the sea-bird's tireless pinions soar. Echoing, echoing, day by day, The echoes tune'their ceaseless lay, Singing to the leafy dale As the zephyrs fon the vale, Iveejnng time with plaintive wail: Echoing, echoing, when the night Claims the moonbeam's softer light ; — Never ceasing, never ending, To the morn their music lending, With the eve their cadence blending, Thro' the night their soft notes sending. Echoing^ echoing, echoing, Flowing, floAving, flowing, * * v* * * Dashing, dashing, dashing, ***** Flashing, flashing, flashing, Down the drops go With endless flow Tliro' valley, cave, grotto and all. Over the Glen's last Water-fall. Mo.vTOUR House, 4th Sept., 1S67. ItttI: \m 1 ^ H32 75 5^1 cv, , ^^ '"' ^x" <:. ^'^^ ,0^ ^o o o .<^