We wailed in our sorrow no longer;
A ray in the future gleamed;
The roots of our faith grew stronger
The rougher our pathway seemed:
For now to our heart is given

Sweet memory of that tone,
Which woos us toward yon heaven
Where at last we may claim our own.

North-Hero, (Vermont.)

REMINISCENCES OF THE SOUTHERN TIER.'

NUMBER TWO.

FOR a long time we had among us, in the Southern Tier,' a jolly, eccentric Irishman, who kept a public-house at Bath and Elmira, and subsequently at Albany and Auburn, and, I believe, is now located at Batavia.

He had seen much of the world, was exceedingly fond of good cheer, and was much appreciated as a boon-companion, though said to be somewhat aristocratic in his notions, and very hostile to the democratic habit of spitting tobacco upon his floors, and could not abide a traveller who ventured to his door with a hair-trunk. It is said of him, that when he figured as 'mine host of the Eagle,' at Elmira, he refused to step to the door to receive the Canal Commissioners of Pennsylvania, who had come into our State on a visit of inspection of our canals, simply because they drove up to his door in a common lumber-wagon, which was the only vehicle they could procure on the Pennsylvania frontier. He had observed their arrival while standing at a window, and when told by a citizen who they were, he replied: 'You are mistaken, they are not persons of reputation, as none but loafers travel with hair-trunks.' When satisfied, by the attention shown by the citizens who knew them and were expecting their arrival, that they were no impostors, he gradually unbent, and treated them with the suavity and kindness for which he is so justly esteemed; though still protesting against their equipage.

The celebrated N. P. Tallmadge once stopped at his house in Elmira, while on a tour of 'stumping the State :" on calling for his bill at his departure, our jolly Boniface told him there was no charge against him; for, said he, it is seldom we have such distinguished gentlemen among us.' It is said, however, that the 'distinguished' exSenator had serious doubts whether it should be considered a censure or a compliment!'

While the proprietor of one of the hotels at the county-seat of a neighboring county, during the sitting of one of the courts, he applied to the cashier of the village-bank for a supply of small change, which

The cashier,

was very desirable to him in settling with his customers. probably annoyed by the frequent applications of this kind from all the village establishments, exhibited some little unwillingness to accommodate him, and intimated that banks were not established for the exclusive purpose of furnishing small change in the country. This irritated the Major,' for so he is called; and he resolved upon revenge. He soon after appeared at the counter of the bank, with a roll of its bills in his hand, to demand specie for them. Deeming it a matter of some moment, which required unusual ceremony, the Major, to give the greater importance to the occasion, (as he tells the story,) brought to his aid all the erudition he possessed, and determined to make the demand in Latin,' thus expecting to terrify or awe the offending cashier, for whose daily annoyance 'the Major' seemed to have but little sympathy, Throwing down the bills, or 'dirty rags,' as he termed them, and assuming a heroic attitude, he thundered out his demand: 'Honos, bonos, crocus metallorum.' On being asked the effect of this strange proceeding, the Major' replied: 'Why, what could the man do? He felt his want of education, and at once forked over the specie.'

A good story is told of his successor in the house which the Major then occupied. He, too, was a man of generous and social impulses, and had shown his disposition in freely bringing out his bottles, without charge, when any of his village neighbors happened to step in he partaking with them, or setting the example, and inviting them to drink. Some of his friends, knowing the kindness of the man, became apprehensive that it might eventually induce in him the habit of tippling, while it would affect his pecuniary prospects, ventured to remonstrate with him in a kindly manner. These were frequently urged

without effect. One of the most esteemed and venerated of the villagers called upon him, and in his gentlemanly and solemn manner, warned him against a habit which he feared was growing upon him, and might injure his usefulness and standing in society. This brought to his mind the previous warnings of others, and he became convinced that a concert of action existed among his friends; he began to view it as a matter of serious concern, and was not a little depressed when he saw the kindness intended by the proceeding. After a moment's reflection, he replied: Well, Mr. H. -, you may be right. I am satisfied that your solicitude proceeds from kind motives; you all tell me how much I drink, but not a man among you thinks of how dry I am.'

We have still among us, in Chemung county, a citizen, whose history is so intimately connected with that of the town and county of Chemung, that they seem almost inseparable. Possessing a strong and energetic mind, a great fund of common-sense, much soundness of judgment, extensive general information acquired by several years' service in the Legislature of the State as a member of the House and of the Senate, the polish of a gentleman of the old school,' though an unassuming and energetic farmer, Judge McD is universally esteemed. A man of much wit and humor, his love of fun and jollity always gathers around him a crowd of choice spirits wherever he goes; and on 39

VOL. XLVII.

such occasions, he is the soul and spirit of the assemblage. Many amusing anecdotes are related of him, which would fill a volume. One I will venture to give, as it is characteristic of the man, and exhibits his warm attachment to the place of his residence, and probably of his birth, and his hostility to useless innovation, being eminently conservative in all his feelings. The township of Chemung,' as originally laid out by the State Commissioners in 1788, included the territory from the easterly line of Steuben on the Chemung River, to Owego Creek on the Susquehannah- a territory some forty-five miles in length by some ten or twelve wide.

The old town of Chemung, as erected by the Legislature in 1791, comprised territory now divided into ten towns.

The Indian village of Chemung was located on the flats near the present village of Chemung, and was destroyed by the American troops under Gen. Sullivan, in 1779, and another called New-Chemung, or New-Town, was near the battle-ground on which Gen. Sullivan fought the Tories and Indians under Butler and Brant, a few days after.

The word Chemung is an Indian word, signifying Big Horn, and was given to the river, from the fact that a large horn was found by the Indians in its waters at an early day, and a similar one was found by some of the early settlers about the year 1791, in the same stream, in the present town of Chemung. The father of Judge McD was captured by the Indians in 1782, and remained a long time a prisoner among them. He informed the writer (then a boy) that at Quebec he saw the horn which gave name to the river, and, as he represented, the counterpart of the one found by the whites soon after the first settlement of the country.

The Judge had frequently represented the town of Chemung (the place of his residence and that of his father) in the Board of Supervisors; had been active in the Legislature in reference to the Chemung Canal, and the erection of the county of Chemung, and was the first President of The Chemung Canal Bank. It is not strange, then, that his attachment to the name so intimately connected with his early and more mature associations, should be deeply seated.

Soon after the New-York and Erie Rail-road Company commenced operations, the Judge had occasion to visit Binghamton on business, and took his passage on the rail-road. When ready to return home, he took his seat in the train going West, which would pass through Chemung. The conductor called for the fare, when the Judge handed him the amount required, stating that his destination was Chemung. It seems that some of the employees of the road, in preparing the list of stopping-places and rates of fare, not possessing the love of ancient names which characterized the Judge, had arbitrarily left off the name of Chemung, and substituted what seemed to them to sound better, that of Springville. The conductor had but lately been placed on this route, and the name of Chemung was as new to him as was that of Springville to the Judge. Looking over his list, he told the Judge there was no such place as Chemung. Imagine the surprise of the Judge at this announcement. No such place as Chemung? Why, Sir, the name of Chemung was known, loved, honored, and cherished

by the early settlers, who now sleep in its soil, long years ago. The conductor asked on which side of Waverley it was located? This made matters much worse. Young man, you have much to learn: Chemung was known and had become a part of the history of the country long before Waverley or the New-York and Erie Rail-road was ever thought of. You had better ask which side of Chemung Waverley is. Sir, I will teach you and you employers that there is a religion in old names! What right have they to change this loved and honored name, rich in historic associations, for the unmeaning one of Springville? I will have it restored.' He then paid his fare to Elmira, twelve miles beyond Chemung, which he said should be the place of his arrival and departure, until the Erie Rail-road Company had learned where Chemung was. It is needless to say that the energy and perseverance of the Judge soon restored the time-honored Chemung to its appropriate place on the roll. The anecdote has been related by a friend of the Judge, who represents him as unacquainted with the meaning of Chemung, which is unjust to him, as he and his father have had too much to do with the Big Horn,' to be ignorant on the subject. The one, while a prisoner, having seen the original, among the Ineians; the other, its counterpart, found near his residence.

O LOVELIEST lake of loveliest isle that lies beneath the sun!
I've roamed around thy banks in life; and when my race is run,
I would it might be mine to rest beneath some branching tree,
That watch would keep around my grave, and overshadow thee.
Some drooping tree, around whose trunk the dark-green, graceful vine,
Emblem of trust, of trust and truth, from age to age would twine.
It may not be, this dearest wish, for I perforce must die

In exile lone, and make my grave beneath a stranger sky.

'WALLS have ears;' yes, and tongues. After an absence of months I seat myself once more in my study, and numerous voices welcome me. The initials scratched carelessly upon the desk, the pictures hung around me, the books on the shelves, the indefinable salute of old associations, fills mind with echoes my echoes of the days gone by. For what are memories but echoes of departed joys and sorrows; and reveries are but the lengthened reverberations of sounds which rung upon our hearts in the hours of youth and gladness. Happy is the one who, standing upon the quick-sands of the present, not only hears echoes from the past, but sees rain-bows illumining the future.

Sweet is the music of these old-time melodies which chime from my study-walls, yet the echo-land of which I would write now is a veritable valley among the hills of Northern Jersey. Wearied by the insipidities of Saratoga, shocked by finding a heartless crowd even at Niagara, we longed for something quiet, entrancing, unique. The Vale of Echoes, which to our mind's eye had ever been pictured an Elysium by an enthusiastic friend, seemed to offer all the rest, the refreshment, the novelty desired.

One day among the catamounts will suffice!' laughed vexatious Annie. 'You will find more screech-owls than echoes, and will soon tire of an Acadie' inhabited by mosquitoes and rattle-snakes.'

Nothing daunted, with too much pride to seem to believe inuendoes so fatal to our scheme of enjoyment, in a mood to be charmed with every thing save the rattle-snakes, we reached the valley at the witching hour of even-tide. Over all was the weird charm of deceptive indistinctness; and suddenly there streamed across the road, with a startling effect, the red light from a furnace that was forging something