USA > Pennsylvania > Lackawanna County > The Wyoming Valley, upper waters of the Susquehanna, and the Lackawanna coal-region : including views of the natural scenery of northern Pennsylvania : from the Indian occupancy to the year 1875 > Part 10
USA > Pennsylvania > Susquehanna County > Susquehanna > The Wyoming Valley, upper waters of the Susquehanna, and the Lackawanna coal-region : including views of the natural scenery of northern Pennsylvania : from the Indian occupancy to the year 1875 > Part 10
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At the base of the mountain, covering part of the classic ground made famous by the tory Wintermoots, nestling close to the harsh looking old mountain sentinel, is the thrifty town of Pittston, a most thoroughly genuine coal town, already famous as the spot where occurred the Eagle Shaft disaster, the particulars of which are given in future pages.
Hollister's history locates near the base of Campbell's Ledge the Indian village of Asser- ughney, which, he adds, "like all their villages, was small, as hunting and fishing were the main sources of supporting the population, naturally averse to labor. This high ledge affording an uninterrupted lookont over the valley below, was used by the Indians not only thus to guard their wigwams, nestled along the river, but to kin.lle their beacon-fires at the evening or midnight hour, as they were wont to be kindled on tire Scottish highlands in the days of Wallace and Bruce, to show those who watched the portent- ous flame the presence of danger, or signal the movements of an enemy.
"While Asserughey was the Indian name of the town, Anjouque was applied to the lower
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ج-حليب
CAMPBELL'S LEDGE.
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portion of the Lackawanna valley. This castle, or encampment, was the upper one of the Dela- wares in Wyoming. It was a point of impor- tanec because of its favorable location for trading purposes. The great war path from the inland lakes of New York to Wyoming and the South, and the trail down the Lackawanna from the Minisink homes on the Delaware, passed through it. Fur parties and dusky chiefs, with their cap- tives, alike followed the solitude of its passage through these true Indian lands."
Tachneekdorus, a friendly Delaware chief, refers to this locality in an information which he sent to the Governor of Pennsylvania in Februa- ry, 1756, wherein he stated that Nesheopeckon, ' (now Neseepec,) was deserted, upon a rumor that prevailed among the tribe of a large num- ber of State troops advancing with intent to cut them off, and that they, the Delawares, "fled to Asseruckney, and higher up, having there a big hill on one side and the Susquehanna on the other side of the present town."
The derivation of the name -- Campbell's Ledge or Crag Campbell, seems to be a matter of much speculation among the residents of the valley. There is a popular legend which obtains the most current belief, that a man by the name of Campbell was once pursued by the Indians from the region of the upper Susquehanna. He had eluded his pursners over hill and plain, through ravine and over precipice, and was boldly strik- ing for the beautiful valley which his bewildered brain had so anxiously imagined to be nearer and nearer at every step and bound before the bloodthirsty red men who were gaining upon him. He is represented as an old enemy, and is singled out for special torture, when vengeance and shouts of the war danee would mingle with the smoke of his roasting earcass. He knows his fate if taken, and struggles onward. The happy looking plains are in sight and his ex- hausting frame gathers fresh courage, but alas ! the dreadful chasm between him and safety is that deep abyss, down, down that eraggy ledge of rocks where nothing but the tops of the high- est trees are seen many hundred feet below. He gazes for an instant to the right, to the left, to see if an opportunity of escape is afforded, but
the ever alert forest band has flanked him, until he is irretrievably hemmed in. He turns one look upon his pursuers, and the greed for human blood and savage glutting of revenge drives de- spair into his soul. He struggles again, but in vain, and with a yell of defiance at the red-skins he leaps over the verge of the hanging rock, and defeats the blood trackers, who answer with dire disappointment.
Of the antceedents of this famed Campbell. no authentie traces can be found, nor is it known to a certainty that such an event ever occurred at the rocky ledge.
Another theory offered is-that the name is derived from Campbell, the British poet, who made the valley famous in his "Gertrude of Wy- oming." About 1808 there were a few in the valley who had learned to admire Campbell, and indeed, throughout the entire enlightened world, thiis celebrated poem made a marked sensation; and it would be but natural that some spot should be made historic in reverence to the illustrious writer, but to this the oldest settlers do not readily concede.
Mrs. Maria Fuller, wife of Mr. Charles Fuller. of Seranton, a lady of clear memory and vigorous perception, states now, in her seventy-fifth year, that she can remember when the mountain was called Campbell's Ledge, and when neither the poet's name or fame had been circulated among the settlers. She was born almost under the frowning hillside, and can recall with precision all the events which earry an impression in the history of the place. IIer earliest recollections were those which were gathered from the eabin firesides, and all in favor of the popular tradition.
It has been ealled in earlier days Dial-Knob, which title it derives from a pleasing remen- brance of the rude habits of the pioneers. There were no clocks in the valley, and but few watches, and these owned mostly by men farther down the valley toward Wilkes-Barre. It was ob- served in course of time that the noonday honr, when the sun shone, was as plainly told on the gray ledge of rocks, as upon the face of an Eng- lish Bull's-eye time piece. The rocks are as directly north and south as any natural land mark of prominence can be, hence the shadow
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THE WYOMING VALLEY,
cast when the rays were thrown from the me- that was known and operated by the aborigines. ridian told the tale in such a prominent and marked way, that the oxen of a hundred farms were loosened from the plough at its appearance, and the entire population summoned their house- holds to the noonday meal by this dial on the knob. :
Mr. A. Frothingham, of Scranton, who was paymaster in the employ of the Pennsylvania Coal Company over a quarter of a century ago, with an office at the base of the mountain, calls our attention to the fact that at the very crest of the highest ledge of rock is to be found a clump of red cedars, casting a shade over the precipice, but no where else on the mountain, in the valley, or indeed in this section of the state can the same specimens be seen, a fact which is indeed singular, when considering the many weird legends which are spun around the spot.
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The same gentleman narrates as au item of experience, that nearly thirty years ago, while still in the employ of the same Company, a man called at the office, exceedingly anxious to dis- close, for a valuable consideration, a secret, well worth knowing, concerning the hoary old senti- nel of roeky visage. He was told that the Com- pany was not dealing in secret tales, but in the seeret recesses of the earth, and that for coal ; but, he insisted upon a price for discovering to the corporation the exact locality where a silver mine of fabulous wealth could be found in the bowels of Crag Campbell. He had been travel- ing extensively on the plains, and had encoun- tered a tribe that at an earlier period inhabited Wyoming Valley. From these few survivors he had gleaned the history of the nature of the mine, its locality on the mountain, and its posi- tively known extent as appreciated by the In- dians. The Pennsylvania Coal Company were averse to finding silver as it would ruin their coal business, so declined to negotiate with the wise individual.
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Nevertheless, this fact has a bearing upon the history of the romantic section at the union of the two rivers. It has been handed from fathier to son for the last century or more, that away in the deep recesses of some mysterious glade or nook is a silver mine of incomputable wealth,
The legend runs that a farmer, the head of a family of fourteen persons, whose sparsely culti- vated acres barely sustained the numerous mouths, was brutally murdered by the savages. only one, a boy, named David, aged fourteen .. escaping the tomahawk. The youthful prisoner was carried away by the Indians, and after trav- eling all night found himself at daybreak upon the summit of a lofty mountain, which was sup- posed to be Campbell's Ledge, where in the dis- tance he could discern the little village in the Valley of Wyoming.
A temporary halt was here made, and the fol- lowing mysterious action, as recorded in Hollis- ter's history, took place, which ever since has been the cause of much uneasiness in the brains of wild dreamers aud adventure seekers.
"An old Indian chief, to whom all paid rever- ence, and whose advice controlled every move- ment, arose, and advancing a few rods, stooped down and removed a large flat stone, exposing to view a spring. The waters of this were conduct . ed away by a subterranean aqueduct, purposely constructed so that when they came to light every appearance would seem to indicate that they had their origin in the very opposite direc- tion to what they did. At the mouth of the spring, a roll of bark, forming a spout, was placed in such a manner as to readily conduct the water from it, and under this a handkerchief -belonging to David's mother but a few hours before-was so held as to receive the stream of water. For some minutes the chief stirred up the spring with so much violence as to render it turbid and sandy. After this was done, every- thing around the spring was restored to its form- er appearance by the concealing rock, earth and leaves, so that no one not familiar with the fact, could have suspected a spring in contiguity to the spot.
"The handkerchief was now lifted from the spont, completely covered with fine, yellow particles resembling gold. This was taken br the chief, and placed in a rudely fashioned stone vessel, purposely made to receive the glittering stone treasure.
"The fire being extinguished, and certain in-
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cantations necessary to prevent any but the right- ful owners to discover the hidden spring, being performed, the Indians left this point guarded by the wild rock, and resumed their trail to the north, guided by the polar star. Of the hopes and heart-aches of young David during the jour- ney, it is not necessary to write.
"After a walk of six days, the village of King's- ton upon the Hudson was reached, where the substance, which the old chief had been so care- ful to collect and conceal, was exchanged for such tawdry goods as seemed desirable to the Indians. David was at once ransomed by the whites. In after years he often related the inci- dent to his children-one of whom, in company with other persons, has traversed and dag over a considerable portion of Bald Mountain and Campbell's Ledge without finding the secret channel."
It is claimed, however, despite the sneers of the incredulous, that many of the older settlers knew of the existence of the mine, having ob- tained the information by bribery, but unfortu- nately the knowledge of its whereabouts at the present day is as obscure perhaps as the base of the stone upon which Crag Campbell rests.
The Pennsylvania Archives have upon record a complaint upon the part of the Indians to the Proprietary Government, in 1776, that persons had "dug a trench, 44 feet long and 6 feet deep, from which three boat loads of silver ore were taken away." Hollister gives as authority that this mine was situated 12 miles above the Indian village Wywamick, (now Wilkes-Barre ) and adds that "the silver ore thus purloined was tak- en down the Susquehanna River in canoes."
The log-cabin stories which had their origin in adventures on and around this romantic moun- tain seem to be without number. The forest warrior tales are wild and terrible wlien occur- ring in its domain, and the hunter is not a whit behind in the marvelous when scaling peaks and jutting crags along the uneven surface.
The tourist imagines, the muse sings, and the artist delincates, but Crag Campbell seen from the Susquehanna in front of the Wyoming Val- ley Hotel, at Wilkes-Barre, outrivals all. With Bald Mount in the rear, and the gray rocky face of the Ledge standing against it in defiant relief, the thoughtful student ean pass a summer after- noon in pensive reverie and thrilling ecstacies over the grim old picket at the head of the love- liest valley on the continent.
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CHAPTER XIII.
PROSPECT ROCK.
Here is the empire of thy perfect bliss.
Here shall no forms abridge, no hours contine The views, the walks, that boundless joy inspires. *
-Gertrude of Wyoming. Part III.
* * Like a golden toy Mid Beauty's orbed bosom. Scenes of earth And Heaven are mixed, as flesh and soul in man. -Festi.s.
A favorite point of view for those wishing to obtain a prospect which shall take in the whole valley, is upon the mountain range just cast of Wilkes-Barre, where is located Prospect Rock. The view from this point comprehends the whole valley from Campbell's Ledge to Nanticoke Dam ; and on a clear day, it is said that even Hyde Park, Scranton, is quite distinctly visible. The panorama spread before the eye is magnificent- the valley, with the beautiful Susquehanna, dot- ted with many a verdant island, winding through it ; the pleasant old villages, that lovingly cling to the banks of the river as if the stream which runs through them and links them together were a symbol of the beautiful chain of unity that in the former times bound them together against the common perils of the wilderness ; the re- membrancer of these perils which one sees in yonder Monument (for it is distinctly visible ;) and beyond all these the threefold tier of moun- tain ridges that rise one above the other along the western sky, one of them near at hand, with its well defined form, while the other two peer from above with their blue tops, as from some other world.
For magnificence of view, and one which will show the entire classic region, sit down upon this huge rock during one hour-that which fol- lows sunset-in which hour of all others the Sus- quehanna, and the plains on either side, wear their crowning glories. Who can describe what
you shall see-who could describe in words this meeting together, through their shading reflec- tions, over the edges of this languid and luxuri- ous river, of all things near it and above-this meeting together, as for caresses and last adieus, of woods and clouds and sky, while the river that mirrors all glows with delicate and ever-chang- ing tints, as if it had an impassioned appreciation of the glory with which it is overspread.
The enchantment of the distant perspective, with its soft mellow haze, is as heavenly as the atmosphere which Ining over Edgar 1. Poe's fairy scene dream. The exquisite loveliness of the scenery in the bosom of the valley, cosily nestled between the hills, is as delicate, in the opinion of famous travelers, as can be found upon the face of the earth ; indeed, many of acknowl- edged authority lend greater force still to this broad assertion.
The view which is herein given of "Twelve Miles of the Wyoming Valley, from Prospect Rock, showing Wilkes Barre, Kingston, Wyom- ing, Ashley, and Plymouth," is a remarkably happy one. Mr. Schurch, the photographer, was .fortunate in securing such a negative, as but one day in one hundred can be selected for such a scene. In ninety-nine days of a hundred, the distance completely inwraps the view with a mysterious haze through which it is impossible for the camera to penetrate. In this illustration, however, along the horizon a beautiful glimpse is
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PROSPECT ROCK.
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afforded of the blue heights far beyond The general outline of the view is of striking beauty. The advantage of position on the rock presents to view nearly every part of the valley in detail, and as a whole, and in this illustrated scope it is advantageously giver, without rendering it dim by too great distance, nor unpicturesque by be- ing too near.
Directly in the foreground, the derse black coloring of the picture represents the deep de- clivity of the mountain side which is covered with forest trees. Overreaching this chasm, and contiguous to the slope, is the thrifty village of Ashley, which is marked conspicuously in the view by its uniform groups of white houses.
Farther over the plain, through the centre of the picture, is the beautiful city of Wilkes-Barre, and in a prolongation of the same line of view, although dimly seen, is the pleasant village of Kingston, the seat of the Wyoming Conference Seminary.
To the right is Wyoming, where is located the site of Forty Fort, and the Mounment. Down the river to the left of Wilkes-Barre is Ply- mouth, a coal town of some magnitude and im- portanee.
Prospeet Rack is a steep ledge of light con- glomerate, formed of strata some half a dozen feet in thickness, and indicates from its present position a mighty convulsion from the kindred formation below whenee it was upheaved.
Seen in close proximity it carries a feeling of admiration and awe to the beholder, for while the eye is melted with tenderness at the fascinat- ing charms in front, it is as surely chilled at the face of the roek which thrusts its bold counte- nanee upon your gaze in spite of your poetical reveries.
The poem which we have > ibjoined, by "Stella of Lackawanna," (Mrs. L. S. Waires), a poetess of merited celebrity, in Northeastern Peunsy !- vania, whose numbers, more than all the rest, have lent charms to local history,-is a gem in- deed, and who that has ever spent an hour on the cold gray rock, does not feel the emotions which prompted these truly beautiful verses?
PROSPECT ROCK.
BY STELLA OF LACKAWANNA,
Oh coll, gray stone, I scarce may tell In which attire I love thee best, With ice-pearls clustering on thy brow- Or roses on the breast.
I see thee when the woodland nymphs Pluck fragrant gifts for thy brown palins ; And when the winter's frozen throats Chorus their boisterous psahus.
And when the autumn-flushed with wine -- Flings wide its gold o'er field and tree, I watch and wait for one low throb Of pulsing life in thee.
But no soft creep of early blooms,.
Nor loudly voicing tempest shock, May wake in thee one trembling thrill, Oh animpassioned Rock !
Low kneel the blue hills at thy feet,
And the rough arms of eynie trees Reach up with reverential touch
To clasp thy granite knees.
Lone stoie 'mong the sighing pines,
Hath no coy tenderness upsprung,
When fondling wrens upon thy robes Their careless nests have hung ?
If e'er a blush thy pale check tinged, "I'was when some tenant of the wood Wove garlands 'mong thy mossy locks, To coax a softer mood.
And tears-the purest ever genmed,
When the far orbs of sorrowing heaven Gaze down through midnight silences -- Have to thy doom been given.
Y'et art thou cold .as oecan foam ;
These winsome wooers have not won ; Go, willwood elfius, woo instead The warm eyes of the sun. * * % *
Beneath the lazy autumn skies I linger near thee yet again, While mournfully the cricket chirps, . And the sad winds complain.
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THE WYOMING VALLEY.
. My heart finds fellowship with thee, Oh strangely solitary thing ;
No hour as that upon thy breast. So fleet upon the wing.
Yon river seems a silver thread; Yon meadows wear a deeper green, When we together, eloud-girt friend, Look down upon the scene.
And from afar we hear the jar Of conflicts such as brave men know, That toil their weary round of years, Then sleep, at last, so low,
And slender spires point the vexed soul Still upward, to a fairer sphere, Where life shall be forever freed From wocs that follow here.
And where the shadows deepest lie --- And patriarch elins their circles fling, From many a softly-lighted home We hear the children sing.
And care-worn age looks on and smiles- And youth is gladdened o'er its hopes ; All this, and more, we watch the while Across the valley slopes.
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Upon thy lap, oh forest friend, I lie and dream a thousand things ; Lean nearer ; I would question thee, While yonder oriole sings.
Say, has ambition clambered here, To idly prate its mad-born schemes ? Or poet in thy stony car
Ponred his impassioned dreams ?
Has sober-eyed Philosophy In languid mornings here reclined ? Or boyhood tossed its noisy shouts I'pon the answering wind ?
And tell me, bas no wretched life To iradness stung through many a year, E'er longed to lay its bondage down And sleep forever here !
And hath no fluttering bird of hope
Perched here, and trilled its sweet, wild tale, When erimson flushed the cloudland o'er, Or sunset left it pale ?
Nay ; rocky beart, turn not away ; Repeat for me the story old Those lovers whispered yesterday, Beneath a sky of gold.
Confess : did'st thon uo yearning own Wheu passion wove so sweet a spell, Filling the rosy air with sighs ? Thou bear'st love's witchery well.
Au exile thou, oh mountain-born ; -- A matchless and unwedded thing ; And no proud race of granite mould From thy cold loins shall spring.
And hope, and love, and grief, may cease Their honied words, or tender speech ; Nor smile, nor sigh, nor pleading prayer, Thy stony licart may reach,
It is eminently fitting, before dismissing the thoughts engendered by a survey from Prospect Rock, to give space to another poem, which lends grace and charm to the fame of the valley wherever the English language is read.
WYOMING. BY FITZ-GREENE HALLECK.
Thou com'st in beauty on my gaze at last, 'On Susquehanna's side, fair Wyoming !" Image of many a dream in hours long past, When life was in its bud and blossoming, And waters, gushing from the fountain spring Of pure enthusiast thought, dimmed my young cyes,
As by the poet borne on unseen wing, I breathed, in fancy, 'neath thy cloudless skies, The summer's air, and heard her echoed harmo- nies.
I then but dreamed : thou art before me now, In life, a vision of the brain no more. I've stood upon the wooded mountain's brow,
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سحيب
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PROSPECT ROCK.
That beetles high thy lovely valley o'er ; And now, where winds thy river's greenest shore, Within a bower of sycamores am laid ; And winds, as soft and sweet as ever bore The fragrance of wild flowers through sun and shade,
Are singing in the tree , whose low boughs press my head.
Nature hath made thee lovelier than the power Even of Campbell's pen hath pictured : he Had woven, had he gazed one sunny hour Upon thy smiling vale, its scenery
With more of truth, and made each rock and tree Known like old friends, and greeted from afar : And there are tales of sad reality,
In the dark legends of thy border war, With woes of deeper tint than his own Ger- trude's are. .
But where are they, the beings of the mind, The bard's creations, moulded not of clay, Hearts to strange bliss and suffering assigned- Young Gertrude, Albert, Waldegrave-where are they ? We need not ask. The people of to-day Appear good, honest, quiet men enough, And hospitable too-for ready pay ; With manners like their roads, a little rough, And hands whose grasp is warm and welcoming, though tough.
Judge * *, who keeps the toll-bridge gate, And the town records, is the Albert now Of Wyoming : like him, in church and state, Her Doric column ; and upon his brow The thin hairs, white with seventy winters' snow, Look patriarchal. Waldegrave 'twere in vain To point out here, unless in yon scare-crow, That stands full-uniformed upon the plain, To frighten flocks of crows and blackbirds from the grain. .
For he would look particularly droll In his "Iberian boot" and "Spanish plume," And be the wonder of each Christian soul, As of the birds that scare-crow and his broom. But Gertrude, in her loveliness and bloom, Hath many a model here ; for woman's eye, In court or cottage, wheresoe'er her home, Hath a heart-spell too holy and too high To be o'erpraised even by her worshipper, Poesy. There's one in the next field-of sweet sixteen- Singing and summoning thoughts of beauty born In heaven-with her jacket of light green, "Love-darting eyes, and tresses like the morn," Without a shoe or stocking-hoeing corn. Whether, like Gertrude, she oft wanders ;there, With Shakspeare's volume in her bosom borne, I think is doubtful. Of the poet-player The maiden knows no more than Cobbett or Voltaire.
There is a woman, widowed, gray, and old, Who tells you where the foot of battle stepped Upon their day of massacre. She told Its tale, and pointed to the spot, and wept, Whereon her father and five brothers slept Shroudless, the bright-dreamed slumbers of the brave,
When all the land a funeral mourning kept. And there, wild laurels planted on the grave By Nature's hand, in air their pale red blossoms wave.
And on the margin of yon orchard hill Are marks where time-worn battlements have been, And in the tall grass traces linger still Of "arrowy frieze and wedged ravelin." Five hundred of her brave that valley green Trod on the morn in soldier-spirit gay ; But twenty lived to tell the noonday scene- And where are now the twenty ? Passed away. Has Death no triumph-hours, save on the battle-
day ?
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CHAPTER XIV.
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