Monday, June 14, 2021

The Muncy Valley: Snap Shots Of Scenery, Geology, And History By J.M.M. Gernerd of Muncy

 

In 1909, J.M.M. Gernerd of Muncy published a 36 page booklet entitled "The Muncy Valley Snap Shots Of Scenery, Geology, And History"  

Contents included The West Branch River, A Garden Spot, The Four Mountains, The Devil's Turnip Patch, The McMichael Lookout, The Day Of The Packet Boat, Historical Localities, Ancient Fortifications, and more.  All of the articles are included below:
The Muncy Valley as viewed from McMichaels Lookout

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Preface
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A want that has often been felt is a concise, handy, and inexpensive publication describing the principal natural features of Muncy Valley and its surroundings, with a few brief notes of local history. The design of this booklet is to meet the want. It does not pretend to be a complete and connected description, — and it may lack much as a mere syllabus, — but it hopes to be of service in awakening interest in our beautiful valley, and in heightening appreciation of its attractions and advantages. The snap-shots will also prove that, to do justice to the abundant material at hand, a much more expensive and pretentious book would be necessary. As the price of this is only a quarter, the critic would be severe indeed who would give it no quarter.

J. M. M. GERNERD.
Muncy, Pa., May 1, 1909.

Jerry Gernerd & John Meginness
1893, at Gernerd's Home in Muncy Pa

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Picturesque Pennsylvania
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Pennsylvania, within a territory of 46,000 square miles, has many sections remarkable for natural scenery and picturesqueness [sic]. The beauties of the famed vale of Wyoming; the charms of the noted valley of the "blue Juniata"; the attractiveness of the fertile Cumberland Valley; the loveliness of the populous Lehigh, Schuylkill, Tioga, and Tulpehocken river valleys, and many other delightful views of river and creek, of vale and mountain, from the Delaware River over to the State of Ohio, and from New York down to Maryland, have alike charmed and been extolled by the nature-loving tourist, and are each alike endeared to their respective inhabitants. And all these pleasing sights have more or less of historic and romantic association that add much to their interest. In fact, everywhere Pennsylvanians love Pennsylvania. And it is not in the least strange that the red man clung so tenaciously to his beautiful birthright, to his grand hunting grounds, and to the graves of his kindred and ancestors; and that as long as he was able he resisted the encroachments and land-greed of the white man. But Fate was against him. Was the aged chief Cornplanter wrong when, in his famous memorial to the Legislature of Pennsylvania in 1822, he said: "The land we live on was received by our fathers from God, and they transmitted it to us for our children. You claim it as ceded to you by the King of England. We deny that it ever belonged to the King of England, and he had no right in it to cede to you."

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The Bald Eagle and Muncy Valley
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The spur of the Allegheny Mountain chain known as the Bald Eagle Mountain is a remarkably regular ridge, with comparatively few breaks in its outline. Its southern terminus is in Blair County, and its northern end – a gracefully rounded elevation rising to a height of about 800 feet above the river flowing around its base, and sloping down gently into the Muncy Valley – is in the lower end of Lycoming County. The view east from the Muncy terminus of the mountain, as well as the prospect to the north, and to the south, is one of fascinating loveliness. Stewart's History of Lycoming County unhesitatingly claims, on page 113, that it is "the most beautiful valley that was ever fashioned by the Divine Architect"; but this is assuming to know more than any of us know as to what the Almighty Designer has done elsewhere on this grand sphere, or on some other orb in the boundless universe. Meginness, on page 64 of his History of the West Branch Valley, refers in a spirit of admiration to the charms and romantic beauty of Wyoming, so sweetly sung in verse and so admirably depicted on canvass, yet says, "but in natural grandeur it does not excel that of Muncy Valley; if indeed it compares favorably with it." But undeniably it has features that command the admiration of all nature-loving people. And the comely Bald Eagle Mountain is one of the most interesting features of its charming configurations. The strata of which it is mainly formed are much older than the layers of rock underlying the valley; but as a mountain, it is a much more recent structure. This is a geological problem the reader can solve.

The Bald Eagle is a member of a large and very complex group of mountains east of the Allegheny proper, consisting mainly of the formation known as Oneida and Medina Sandstones, and extending from the West Branch of the Susquehanna to the line of Maryland. They comprise one closely related mountain system, but are known by a great number of local names, as if they were thought to exist as independent mountains, as Bald Eagle, White Deer, Buffalo, Brush, Jack's, Tussey's, Nittany, Dunning's, Bear Meadow, Tuscarora, Standing Stone, Short, Lock, Canoe, Path Valley, Black Log, etc., etc. They form such a complex group, seem so mixed up, or entangled, that our State geologists declared they found them "to defy description in words," and "can only be described by a map." A prominent feature is a general parallelism of the entire group, but some members run in relatively short zigzags, resembling zigzag lightning, and others again for miles in parallel lines, running like so many waves across the State, 'broken in many places by deep gaps, or fissures. As they consist of the same class of rocks, and differ here and there merely in the thickness of the strata, and in the inclination into which the strata have been distorted, squeezed, or jammed, their topographical and geological identity is evident. They were all formed in the same way, and-in the same cosmic era, and have a distinct family likeness.

Because the most ancient stratigraphic formation of Muncy Valley, – i.e., the oldest exposed strata, – and on account of its beauty and prominence in the landscape, the Bald Eagle is regarded with a feeling of affection, and even sometimes with a kind of cosmic veneration. Originally its strata, like all other water-formed rocks, were in the form of horizontal sheets, covered with the newer formations, the same that now lay around it and under the valley basin, and beneath the encircling hills and the North Mountain. The gentle downward slope of the mountain, of which the picture in this booklet will give the reader a good idea, may be imagined to continue under the Clinton shale at its foot, then beneath the river, and on under the other strata, thousands of feet below the upper end of the basin and under the hills. The line of fracture of the overlying formations caused by the upheaval of the Bald Eagle can be very distinctly seen on the Muncy side of the river. Rogers, in his Geology of Pennsylvania, Vol. 1, page 542, says: "The Bald Eagle axis prolonged would cross Muncy Creek about 600 yards above its mouth." Up river above the mouth of the creek the flanking strata of Clinton shale, or "Surgent" rocks, are seen to dip northward, and below the creek the dip is in the opposite direction. Near the Reading Railroad bridge, below Port Penn, and along the abandoned canal at the high stone wall just above the Ashhurst summer residence, the evidence of the upward movement of the Bald Eagle can be seen in the opposite inclines of the fractured uplifted formations. The still older strata of Lewistown limestone, or what Rogers called the Scalent rocks, now overlap and curve around the submerged part of the Bald Eagle, just as the river is seen to bend around its emerged part.

Once the lowest of the Muncy Valley outcropping formations, the Bald Eagle now stands up bold and high in the air, graceful and dignified, as if it always meant to stay just where it is and forever remain what it is; – and now the question is, how did it manage to get up in the world so high above its nearest neighbors, and higher even than the hills of Hamilton shales, Portage flags and Chemung shales, that lap around the valley basin?

The Bald Eagle was forced up by a power from beneath, and by lateral pressure. The cold crust of the earth is still in some degree flexible. The mountain was gradually elevated, and as it rose it slowly and persistently kept on cracking, pushing apart, and raising the newer strata covering it. And then air, sunshine, frost, rain and floods have meanwhile for untold ages kept on eating away at the uplifted rocks—at the Bald Eagle just the same—and the disintegrated material has been transported and laid down on the floor of the Atlantic Ocean. It is not easy to predict what the condition and appearance of the earth will be twenty or forty millions of years hereafter, but all can understand that the work of erosion and physiographic changes keep steadily going on. Neither Science nor the Bible proclaim that this is a finished world. The story of the earth is a record of progress.


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The West Branch River
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The West Branch of the Susquehanna River, with its numerous tributaries, drains the counties of Sullivan, Clinton, Tioga, Potter, Cameron, Elk, Clearfield, and Centre, as well as Lycoming, and shares a large water-shed tract with the Clarion and Allegheny rivers. After flowing from its remote sources about 150 miles, it then rolls on directly east about 40 miles through Clinton and Lycoming, along the north and steep flank of the Bald Eagle Mountain. When passing through Muncy Valley it describes a grand and graceful semicircular sweep around the end of the mountain, and then, after flowing through a gap in the Muncy Hills, moves directly south about 30 miles to the town of Northumberland, where it unites with the North Branch; and from thence the consolidated stream pursues its way onward in a southeasterly course to the Chesapeake Bay. Both the Reading and Pennsylvania Railroads enter Muncy Valley through this gap. The graphic structure of the cleft, with its picturesque and almost perpendicular escarpment of rock, on both sides of the river, is a puzzle to the geologist. The interesting and puzzling question is, How much of the breach is due to erosion, and how much may be owing to the shrinking, cracking, upheaving and settling of the crust of the earth? Water is not the only agent or pen with which the story of the earth has been written. There is also a force acting from beneath that causes fissures, faults, and dislocations of strata. Geologically speaking, the Susquehanna River is not near as old as the rock formation over which it flows. It has had no share in raising the hills and mountains, nor in causing the fractures and faults and dip of their strata. But as air and frost and rain have disintegrated the rocks and been leveling the surface, the river has been busy transporting the detritus into the Atlantic Ocean.


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Garden Spot
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Between the broad, curbing end of the Bald Eagle and the stately bend of the river there may be nearly 600 acres of the best farm land, only a narrow fringe of which along the river – perhaps a hundred acres-was inundated by the extraordinary freshets of 1889 and 1894. Between the south side of the mountain and the gap in the Muncy Hill, through which the river and the railroads pass, there may be more than two thousand acres of the same rich alluvium. For productiveness [sic] this might in fact be termed the garden spot of the Muncy Valley. It is conceded that vegetation in the Spring is usually from a week to ten days earlier than on the east side of the river. This favored part of the vale of Muncy is usually designated as the Black Hole Valley. There is nothing, however, that is black or gloomy in it, or about it; and no section of the West Branch Valley presents a brighter, richer, cleaner, and more cheerful and fertile aspect. Several traditions have been advanced to explain the inapplicable title, but not one is satisfactory enough to apply now. Such a forbidding name for such a beaming garden spot is a misnomer. It was perhaps no less than the east side of the river for many generations a favorite camping ground and garden spot for the Indians; and has in consequence also for years, from the river gap to the end of the Bald Eagle, been a veritable "garden spot" for Indian relic hunters.

Gorgeous View
The view from the residence on the Mensch estate, well situated above the river, at the foot of the Bald Eagle, opposite the borough of Muncy, is gorgeous, as well as historically and geologically interesting. The Muncy Hills, beginning a mile or more west of the rock-faced river gap, from a large semicircular bend in the form of a horseshoe, almost conformable to the graceful bend of the river from west to south around the Bald Eagle. The broad and fertile basin thus partially environed by the Muncy Hills is mainly the Muncy Valley; in which are pleasantly located the peaceful hamlet of Pennsdale – with its plain but very substantial Friends' Meeting House, built about 110 years ago – and the enterprising towns of Muncy and Hughesville; while in allied gorges are hidden from view, but pleasingly situated, Clarkestown on Little Muncy Creek, and Picture Rocks on Big Muncy. Muncy is located east of the river, close to the great bend, about two miles from the Mensch dwelling; and Hughesville is delightfully situated at the head of the basin, about five miles east of Muncy. The residence portion of the growing borough of Montgomery, three or four miles southwest of the terminus, is comfortably nestled on the top of a hill. On dark nights, when Montgomery, Muncy, and Hughesville are illuminated with their electric lights, the effect as seen from various points is agreeable and impressive, and is suggestive of the great change that has taken place since John Scudder built his cabin at the mouth of Glade Run. Light was often produced in his day, and still later, by burning pine knots.

The pioneers "— came with strong arms, log cabins to raise,
And read their Bibles by the pine knot's blaze."

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The Four Mountains
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The massive Bald Eagle may be compared to the frog in the middle of the sole of the foot of a horse, as it penetrates a short distance into the horseshoe shaped valley not unlike the frog. Looking east, beyond the encircling wave-like hills, other hills are seen, and beyond the farthest hills, twenty miles from our point of view, in Sullivan County looms up in lofty grandeur the North Mountain, the most eastern spur of the Alleghenies, 2,000 feet higher than the Reading Railroad station at Muncy, 2,500 feet above tide water, with its uneven and in places hog-back crest, and a steep flank facing the Muncy Valley.

All along the northern horizon can be seen the bold front of the Allegheny Mountain, rising high above the scalloped foothills in majestic stateliness, and constituting a great wall-like barrier from east to west almost in a straight line across the county, a distance of nearly 50 miles. When Agassiz examined the Alleghenies he declared that they were once at least 3,000 feet higher than at present; and Peter Lesley, the chief of the Second Geological Survey of Pennsylvania, does not even hesitate to say that "mountains once 30,000 or 40,000 feet high are now but 2,000 or 3,000 feet above sea level." Report G 4, page 13.

A fourth high ridge in the field of view that adds to the charm and multiformity is the White Deer Mountains in the southwest, in Union County. Whichever way the eye may be turned, the prospect of valley and mountain is enchanting and inspiring. But some fellow mortals have eyes, and yet do not see the loveliness of Mother Earth. As some are color blind, so some seem to be scenery blind. Emerson likely hit us all with more or less force when he said: "To speak truly, few adult persons can see nature. Most persons do not see the sun."

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Geological Features
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Geologically this captivating view of Muncy Valley and its striking surroundings is very interesting. According to the geological survey, Pennsylvania has more than a dozen distinct systems of fossil-bearing rocks. Of these water-formed formations the majority are embraced in the landscape. The lowest and oldest-speaking in geological terms-is the Bald Eagle Mountain formation; the highest and newest is the formation composing the North Mountain — the altitude of the latter agreeing in this instance with the geological level. To pass from the summit of one mountain to the summit of the other you would have to pass over the following formation: Beginning with the lowest and oldest — that is, geologically the lowest and oldest — you first have the Oneida and the Medina sandstones in the Bald Eagle Mountain; then the Clinton shale and Helderberg limestone underlying the lower valley basin; then the Hamilton, Chemung, and Catskil red sandstone as the formation composing the surrounding hills; and the last the Pocono system — the bottom of the Coal Measures, presumably millions of years younger than the strata of rock far below in the basin and now covered by alluvial deposits — in the bold, stern and high North Mountain. Each formation has its peculiar organic remains, indicating the conditions of existence during each period, and showing the steady progress of the work of creation during the protracted ages in which they were formed. But we are enjoined to be not ignorant that, with the Lord, "a thousand years is as one day." Human life is too short a period by which to measure the life of the cosmos.

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Terminal Moraine
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Within the field of vision from various parts of the valley is also the line of that wonderful phenomenon, The Terminal Moraine, or foot of the great sheet of ice that once covered the whole upper part of the North American continent to the supposed depth of several thousand feet, just as a similar ice-sheet now covers nearly all of Greenland. It is simply a more or less irregular line of bowlders [sic], gravel, deposits of unstratified earth, and drift-hills, the debris which for unknown centuries was with a mighty force brought down over valleys and mountains by the immense glacier. The line of the Moraine takes in all of the North Mountain, crosses the Muncy Creek below Tivoli, creeps up to the crest of the Allegheny, and then trends on over valley and mountain to the northwest, into the State of New York, back again into Pennsylvania, down into Ohio, over into Kentucky, and up again through Indiana. The part of Lycoming County above the line of the Moraine is in many places scratched by the pressure of the moving ice-mass, and covered with Drift. The Moraine has been carefully examined across the State from New Jersey to Ohio. It tells the story of a severe and killing Winter that endured for ages, and that ended a long cosmic Summer, during which Mastoden roamed over the same regions as the Elephants now range over the jungles of Africa. What caused this extraordinary change of climate is a riddle not yet positively solved. One entire volume of the many reports of the Second Geological Survey of Pennsylvania is devoted to a detailed description of this marvel of a long past age. It is a most interesting romance of nature to the student of God's handiwork. When Agassiz came to America almost the first thing he looked for was for evidence of glacial action, and he soon found what he looked for, and what he had already become so familiar with in Europe. He had eyes, and could see things in nature quicker and better than most mortals.

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The Devils Turnip Patch
Read More About This Area Here:
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About five miles west of the terminus of the Bald Eagle is a deep rift, or cross-crack, known as the Turnpike Gap, through which a turnpike has for many years connected Clinton Township with the City of Williamsport. A curious feature of this fissure is a spot called "The Devil's Turnip Patch."

 It consists of a large space along the pike, on the west side, without a tree or bush, that is covered with immense blocks of stone piled up in haphazard profusion. Hidden from sight under the rocks a brook can be heard, as it goes babbling on "to join the brimming river."
 The scene is one that never fails to excite the wonder and curiosity of all thoughtful beholders. Old Nick doubtless never gathered the stones, and never attempted to raise turnips in such a barren patch, but the question is, how did the stones get there in that particular spot?
 Some one may be ready to tell us that these boulders are Drift-Relics, and will be pleased to lead us back in imagination to the age of the great continental glacier, when immense icebergs would become detached from the slow-moving sheet of ice and float off to drop their freight of rock as they melted. And perhaps the narrator would fancy that a great floe of glacial ice loaded with rock was stranded in this gap, and discharged its freight right on this spot, and possibly that a series of icebergs were drawn through this gap by a strong current and were wrecked here.
 But in this case the rocks all appear to belong to the very formation on which they rest, and that rather spoils the theory. Geology is a noble science; and it is also an excellent study for the exercise of the imagination.
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PINE BARRENS
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No one of this day can realize the barren and desolate condition of the east end of the Muncy Valley basin, from the trout ponds to the hills beyond Hughesville, for a number of decades during the early settlement of this section. Samuel Bryan, father of the late venerable Ellis Bryan, of Eagle Mills, settled in the valley soon after the year 1800. When he first visited the dale he rode a handsome black stallion. For this animal he was offered all the land from near the mills on Muncy Creek (then Shoemaker's Mills) to the hills, but could not be induced to trade, as he thought the land worthless for farming, and that it would never produce enough to pay the taxes. The uninviting waste was long known as "The Pine Barrens." The forest had been destroyed by fires, and only a charred tree trunk or stump was here and there standing. The very soil seemed to have vanished. The surface was covered with pebbles and boulders, with here and there a patch of scrub oak waist high. "You could see a deer run for half a mile or more," said Ellis Bryan to the writer thirty-five years ago, when describing the scene.
Many of the first settlers passed these now valuable and productive lands as utterly worthless, to locate on hill or mountain lands far less desirable. When later Major Theopholis Little came into the valley — he made his first visit about the year 1808, but did not bring his family until 1813 — he was offered these same "barrens" for $1.50 an acre, but he preferred the more fertile though better timbered lands of the summit of the Allegheny Mountains, near Lewis's Lake, at $2.50 an acre. The ancestors of the Edkins', the Taylors', the Warrens', the Rogers', the Birds', the Corsons', the Molineux', the Huckels', and many others passed by these lands and regarded them as of little value.
To see the large, beautiful and fertile plain of several square miles, on the verge of which Hughesville is so pleasantly located, and on which are now some of the most productive and best improved farms of the county, one can not help being amazed that the hills of Sullivan County, and of Shrewsbury and Penn townships, were preferred by so many of the pioneer settlers. There is a moral in this snap-shot of our local history. Look below the surface, and consider the surroundings. This is what so many of the early settlers neglected to do in the material way. But after all, they became as strongly attached to their mountain homes, their lives were in every way as useful and happy, in intelligence they kept pace with their neighbors of the more fertile river bottoms, and when the Old Flag was assailed they were just as loyal. And then — it will never be forgotten that the Sullivanites were Lycomingites for fifty-two years.


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McMichael Lookout
See more about the lookout here:
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On the summit of the Muncy Hill, less than a mile from the river gap, may be seen the McMichael Lookout, a much frequented resort for scenery connoisseurs and picnickers. On a clear day a magnificent view can be had from the observatory of the valley basin and of the surrounding hills and mountains. Scarcely a bright day passes in summer that it is not visited by one or more parties. The writer was there once when four large assemblages of persons unexpectedly met, and the crowd that day was much too big for the accommodation.

 The structure is not a pretentious affair, but it is a great convenience to the public, is strongly constructed, and is furnished with tables, seats, and a cooking stove, for the enjoyment of everybody without distinction or consideration; and for his disinterested beneficence Mr. R. R. McMichael has the thanks of many appreciative people. The beauty of the view this Lookout commands must be seen to be understood. No one can adequately describe it. It is not vastness that makes it so attractive, though it embraces territory belonging to five counties, Lycoming, Sullivan, Union, Northumberland and Montour, and its longest range may not exceed forty miles, from the northeast to the southwest, but it is its varied and singular physiographic features that makes it so pleasing. A good field-glass is a desirable help to "view the landscape over," and to see all that can be seen.

Valuable Building Stone
A singular feature of this northern terminus of the Bald Eagle Mountain is the immense quantity of excellent building stone strewn over much of its surface, chiefly on the sides and around the end, causing every thoughtful observer to ask, "How did these stone get here in this condition? By what agency were they thus broken up, and piled away in heaps and patches, ready for the coming of civilized man?" Not water-worn or rounded stones, but in angular blocks of all shapes, and a large proportion of portable sizes, as if purposely shattered and stored here for the use of man by some Titanic power. In some places on the very top of the mountain these stones occur; but during a ramble years ago over the summit, from the terminus to the Turnpike Gap, I sauntered over many acres of almost level land entirely free from stone. Hundreds of great ant hills were seen that were constructed of almost pure white sand. How account for the stone with angles and corners, and the exuberance of sand? The riddle is respectfully passed over to the geologist for an answer.

Peter Lesley, in his Final Report of the Geological Survey of Pennsylvania, Vol. 1, page 712, says it is a fixed fact that "there is not a valuable mineral of any kind" in the formation of the mountains of which the Bald Eagle is a member, and that their "sandstone rock may be said to be worthless." He had set himself right, however, by admitting on the same page, that some of the layers yield "excellent building stone." The exceptionally excellent building stone are right here on the Muncy end of the Bald Eagle. Their great value has long been demonstrated. Thousands of wagon loads of these valuable stone for well and cellar and foundation walls, piers and abutments-and beautiful stone also when dressed for fine buildings, being of various pleasing shades or color, as may be seen in the handsome and matchless walls of the Episcopal and Lutheran churches of Muncy-have, during the last seventy years or more, been hauled away from this mountain by the inhabitants of the valley. And many car loads have been transported to other sections by the Philadelphia and Erie Railroad, the track of which runs almost parallel with the river, close to the mountain on the north side. It appears there are "excellent" stone enough left for many generations to come. They will be wanted. "One generation goeth, and another cometh."

Lesley complains that he was often asked why God made mountains without a single valuable mineral in them, as if mountains were of little consequence unless stored with coal, iron, tin, lead, zinc, copper, silver or gold. He says: "The answer is a plain one and should be satisfactory to any reasonable man. Mineral value is not the only kind of value. The true worth of mountain land is to cool the air and condense its moisture into rain, to feed the streams which supply the valleys, and to preserve the forests, for gold and silver mines, after all, are not half so desirable as fertility and water," and, of course — "excellent building stone."

Springs And Streams
Three streams — Turkey Run, Berger's Run, and Black Hole Creek — issue from the southern slope of the Bald Eagle, between the end of the mountain and the Turnpike Gap, and flow southward to unite with the Susquehanna. This is an indication of an abundance of pure mountain water. And there is no danger of its ever being contaminated with farm drainage. From the gap to the terminus there must be at least from ten to fifteen square miles of surface, which from its nature, its trees and rocks, is well calculated to collect and hold much of the rain that falls upon it. Some years ago I visited a fine spring-known as the "Chestnut Spring" — that appeared to be not much more than 100 feet from the broad and almost level summit, and at the time heard of other springs on the same gentle south slope. The house on the Mensch estate is supplied through a pipe from one. It is also said that there is a strong spring on the north side of the mountain, some distance from the end, that would be available if ever wanted. Years ago, when the Water Cure system was attracting much attention, the remark was often made that here is a superb location for a sanitarium. Pure water ranks with pure air as a necessity.

"Cold water! let thy praise be sung by every son of earth;
Yet all the pens of wisest scribes can never tell thy worth."

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Fine Site For Something
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Another fact often remarked regarding this terminus of the Bald Eagle Mountain is that it serves as a natural wind-break, and affords protection to the inhabitants for miles around its southern and eastern base. Considering this circumstance, in connection with all the other facts mentioned; the pure water and health-giving mountain air; the abundance of excellent stone for building; the fine body of fertile land; the perfect drainage; the ever beautiful and extensive panorama of diversified landscape; the convenience of direct access to two of the country's greatest systems of railroads – Reading and Pennsylvania; these various topographical and commercial features combine to make this an admirable site either for an elaborate private residence, with ample and artistically improved grounds, for some financial nabob, – a Vanderbilt, or Carnegie, or a Rockefeller; or it would be a delightful situation for a first-class public summer hotel, where the wearied dwellers of the crowded city could find rest and recuperation; or it is an ideal place for, a sumptuous club-house and breathing place for an association of well-to-do people, where they could have the delights of rural and mountain life combined with the luxuries and conveniences of metropolitan existence; or what for the sake of humanity would be even more desirable, it would be a superb location for some needed and important educational or beneficial institution. The beautiful Susquehanna, with its sparkling surface, contributes largely to the charm of the scene. From the Muncy Dam up to Butler's Ripples, a stretch of six miles or more, the stream is as placid as a lake, and is an ideal sheet of water for recreation, and for regattas with scull-boats or canoes.

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The Day Of The Packet Boat
Read more about the West Branch Canal here:
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Few of the present population of the valley have any personal recollection of the day of the Packet Boat. The West Branch Canal is now a thing of the past, and the vestiges of it that remain are assuming an appearance of antiquity. Most parts even now have almost the appearance of having been "deserted beyond the memory of man," as Conrad Weiser, in 1737, said of the "ancient fortification" on Wolf Run. In 1828 the Muncy Dam was built, and in 1830 the canal was completed to the dam from Northumberland. In 1833 it was finished as far as Williamsport. This was the great improvement of that age, and gave new life to the business of the West Branch.

It was the era of the Packet Boat. It was not a long day, but it was one of which its generation ever cherished most pleasing recollections. The Packet was a delightful conveyance in which to travel, compared with the lumbering, rocking, jolting, and often overcrowded and dusty stage coach. It was a beautiful structure, comfortably arranged, neatly furnished, carpeted, and moved along on the water highway so quietly and smoothly that it was a real pleasure to travel in one. It was towed by three or four horses, managed by a mounted driver, and had relays so frequent that the animals could be kept on a constant trot. Besides passengers, it carried mail and express. Many a time I was sent to Port Penn to meet the boat and bring home a package, and I was always very willing to go. But when only about two decades later the Sunbury and Erie Railroad (now part of the Pennsylvania R. R.) was completed to Williamsport, the more speedy and tireless iron horses took the place of horses of bone and flesh, and the Packet Boat became obsolete.

There are a few old folks who still remember the day of the Packet Boat, the great interest they excited, and how crowds sometimes assembled at Walton's Landing, or at the Port Penn wharf, to see the crafts arrive. The captain of a Packet was always looked up to as a man of authority and great responsibility, and perhaps no commander of an Atlantic liner today enjoys greater distinction. The courtesy of a Packet captain was often the subject of remark, as the slightest attention or condescension on his part was sure to be gratefully remembered.

The canal at once became a great business thoroughfare. Many boats were built at Port Penn, where several boat yards flourished, and a number of the business men of Muncy owned boats. Merchandise was no longer brought up the river in the tiresome Keelboats. The chief articles of export were hogs, wheat, flour, lumber, dried and salted meats, leather and whiskey. There were in that day thirteen distilleries in this end of the county, the combined daily output of which was from 1,200 to 1,500 gallons. As whiskey was by many still regarded as one of the necessaries of life, it is likely that instead of going down the West Branch Canal a great deal of it remained here and went down — certain other canals.

The Outlet Locks below Port Penn, and the stone piers and abutments of the Aqueduct that spanned the mouth of Muncy Creek of which pictures accompany these notes-are now deeply interesting relics of the canal, melancholy reminders of the hopes and enterprise and struggles of a generation now resting with their fathers, the hardy elders who drove away the savages and cut down the forest to install the age of the plow. How many are still alive who went through these double locks, and floated in the Aqueduct over Muncy Creek, in a Packet Boat?




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Historical Locations
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Hardly more than half a mile south of the McMichael Lookout, and in full view from its gallery is the spot where in August, 1763, a company of 114 white men under Captain William Patterson met and fought with two bands of Indians that were thought to be on the warpath to the settlements to pillage and massacre. Ten pages of Meginness' History of The West Branch Valley give as full an account of this affair as could in our day be gleaned. Various relics of the conflict were found in after years, — one being a ramrod that was lodged up in a tree, indicating that one of the combatants may have been so excited that he forgot to remove the rod from his gun before firing — besides a number of iron tomahawks and other articles. It may be mentioned in this connection that J. Potter Patterson, the first editor of the first newspaper published in Muncy, (The Muncy Telegraph), who died in 1835, and whose body lies in the old Episcopal burying ground on Washington Street, was a grandson of Captain Patterson.

Many other spots of historic interest can be seen from the Lookout, and also from the Mensch residence at the foot of the Bald Eagle, as the location of the famous Warrior Spring along the water-edge of the river, hardly 50 rods above the east end of the Reading Railroad bridge; the site of Fort Brady — several houses and a stockade around them built by Captain John Brady for the protection of the families of the neighborhood; the bank near the mouth of Glade Run, only about six rods east of the old canal culvert, where John Scudder, in April, 1770, built his cabin, with no floor but the bare earth and without a window of glass, where his daughter Mary, the first white child in the county, was born-and near which Scudder's apple tree still stood in the summer of 1874, and measured eleven feet and seven inches in circumference, several feet above the ground, and was still bearing fruit; the spot on Wolf Run, hardly more than three rods below the bridge on the road from Muncy to Williamsport, where the bold pioneer, Captain John Brady, was waylaid and killed by the Indians in April, 1779; and other localities of interest to the student of Muncy Valley history.

On the north side, just behind the end of the Bald Eagle Mountain, but not in sight from the Lookout, is Hartly Hall Station, on the Reading Railroad, near which, a few rods from the river bank, is what yet remains of the Indian sepulchral mound that has always been an object of great interest, and from which many relics and bones have from time to time been removed. It was long ago estimated to have contained from two hundred to three hundred skeletons. (See Now and Then, Vol. 3, page 205). And but a short distance west of the station the railroad, in a deep cut, passes directly through the site of Fort Muncy, a defensive work erected by the government, and where troops were posted at different times. It was constructed just a short time before the "Big Runaway" in 1778, and was the most important stronghold west of Fort Augusta. (See History of the West Branch Valley, pp. 483 and 638). It was repaired in 1782 by Capt. Thomas Robinson. And close to the station is the old graveyard, the oldest in the county, in which Captain Brady and a number of the first settlers are having their last sleep. It is believed that the first interment in the ground was that of William Beaver, who was shot by accident on the morning of September, 1769, by a companion hunter.

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Incidents Of The Big Runaway
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The late esteemed Robert Robb, born in 1816, and grandson of the prominent pioneer, Robert Robb – his grandfather being one of the very first persons to settle in the valley when the land was made available for settlement, after the final purchase from the Indians at Fort Stanwix, in November, 1768 – informed me that when he was a boy old folks were yet living who remembered and often mentioned Job Chilloway, the Delaware Indian, who was such a useful and faithful friend of the first white settlers of the valley. Job, it seemed, knew every foot of this section of the country, and was at first often of service as a guide and interpreter. When, after the purchase, the agents of the Penns were ordered to select a portion of the best lands for the personal emolument of the Proprietaries, as reservations, Job led them to the Muncy Valley as the finest location on the West Branch. The draft of the first survey, made in December, 1768, designates the tract of 1,615 acres, with allowance of 6 percent, known as Muncy Manor, of which the Borough of Muncy is now the principal part, as "Job's Discovery." Meginness, in his Biographical Annals, has given an interesting account of Job, and "Betsy," his handsome squaw, to which in this late day but few incidents can be added.

Among the earliest settlers in the valley was Joseph Jacob Wallis, a half-brother of Samuel Wallis, the noted land proprietor, who settled on and improved the rich and extensive river bottom lands known later as the "Hall's Farms." Joseph located and built a hut some distance up Wolf Run, on land afterwards owned by John Adlum (see Now and Then, Vol. 3, pp. 49 and 129), and now belonging to the heirs of Frank Ort. Here is where J. Lukens Wallis, son of Joseph Jacob, came into the world, November 14th, 1773, the first white boy born in the Muncy Valley. When the boy was old enough to be weaned one of the friendly squaws who still lingered, or for several years often visited the valley, carried him to her wigwam and took motherly care of him until he became reconciled to a different kind and way of taking nourishment. It would be of interest to know what his infant menu consisted of, but we may conclude that it did not include Farina, Meilin's Food, or anything just in that line.

Early in the Spring of 1778, when J. Lukens Wallis was only a little more than four years old, the Indians begun to be very troublesome and threatening, being urged on to hostility by the British, with whom the Colonies were then struggling in a desperate war, and were doubtless also actuated by the hope that they might possibly again possess their beloved hunting grounds. They rushed into the fray as if they would help King George annihilate the harassed colonists. Great excitement followed, as the ominous war-whoop of the bloodthirsty and unpitying savages began to resound through the forests, and the settlers everywhere began to seek safety by flight. Job Chilloway's frequent service to the whites as both guide and spy had become so well known to his tribe that he, too, had to fly with the whites to save his own life and scalp. This stampede is now known in the history of the West Branch Valley as the Big Runway.

One night Joseph Jacob Wallis and his wife were aroused from their sleep by a friendly Indian, who urged them to lose no time in leaving the valley, as the infuriated Indians were moving towards the valley to kill, and scalp and burn. Wallis was alarmed, but he did not see how he could at once get away with his family. The Indian had left his canoe concealed at the mouth of Wolf Run, and he kindly insisted that Wallis should take it and make haste to get to Sunbury. It has been inferred that the Indian was the ever – faithful Job Chilloway, as he was a good friend of the Wallises.

Less fortunate were George Gortner and Thomas Hunt, who, during the terrible era of the Big Runaway, fell under the tomahawk of the Indians, on Muncy Creek, near Shoemaker's Grist Mill; only two weeks after James Brady was killed, August 8th, a short distance above Loyalsock Creek, while helping a party of reapers cut Peter Smith's grain, the unhappy man whose wife and four children had been murdered by the merciless savages only a short time before. The late Charles Shoemaker, who was born and always lived near the mill, used to relate that Hunt was buried on the ridge just west of the creek, that his grave was for many years marked by a large sandstone bowlder, and that the road from Muncy along the cemetery to the creek passes over the spot. It was not safe at that time to venture far outside of either Fort Brady or Fort Muncy. Meginness relates that three militiamen ventured out of Fort Muncy without permission to dig some potatoes and were immediately attacked while within sight of the garrison. In this happy day of peace and security no one can fully realize the terrors and sorrows of that dark period.

It was about the time that Hunt and Gortner were killed that Abraham Webster lost his four children. His son Abraham was killed, and son Joseph and two daughters were taken prisoners. Joseph returned after being in captivity twelve years. The youngest of the girls was drowned in Seneca Lake by an impatient squaw, and the fate of the other was never learned.

And the era of gloom and terror did not end with the year. The Big Runaway was continued and concluded in 1779. The West Branch was destined to be completely depopulated for a time. Capt. John Brady was killed on the 11th day of April, only eight months after the death of his son James. Small bands of savages seemed to be forever hovering about. Through scouts — one of them the daring Robert Covenhoven – it was learned that the Indians, urged on by British and Tories, were planning to invade the valley with a force strong enough to exterminate the remaining settlers. In July a force of 300 British and Indians came swooping down the West Branch on a raid of devastation and murder. Fort Muncy was deserted, and the invaders only had the satisfaction of burning it. The garrison had just been withdrawn, in consequence of the massacre at Wyoming on the 3d of July, and to strengthen the force of General Sullivan, who was about to invade the territory of the Six Nations. Fort Brady had also been abandoned, and shared the same fate. Henry Shoemaker—grandfather of the late Charles Shoemaker above mentioned—buried the gearings of his grist mill, but the mill itself also went up in smoke.

On the 28th of July Fort Freeland, on the Warrior Run, was captured. As there were only twenty-one men to defend the fort, and there were so many women and children to suffer if it should be carried by assault, it was wisely concluded to accept the terms of capitulation offered by the British commander, Captain John McDonald. The men bearing arms were taken to Niagara as prisoners of war, and fifty-two women and children, and four old men, were allowed to make their way to Sunbury. The firing before the surrender was heard at Boone's Fort, on Muddy Run, between Watsontown and Milton. Captain Boone with thirty-three good men reached the scene after the surrender, and, bent on rescuing their friends, boldly attacked and shot down many of the besiegers, while they were feasting; but when he and half of his men were killed the rest had to scatter and fly to save themselves. The settlers of the lower end of the valley had been warned of the coming of the hostile horde, but they fancied that the reports were exaggerated. After this disaster the remaining colonists made haste to get to Fort Augusta.

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Ancient Fortifications
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Near the bank of Wolf Run, 100 rods or more north of Muncy Creek, and not far from the river, is the location of the Ancient Fortification, which has been the subject of much speculation. Meginness, in his History of the West Branch Valley, quotes a description of it, which represents that: "The shape of the fortification was semi-circular and was built parallel with the direction of the cliff, which extends almost due north and south."


The accompanying sketch map is the same that Meginness has on page 68 of his history, to show "its form and location." But the description is not correct. When his valuable revised work appeared I told him that he had been misled as to its form and location, and, if he were living, he would be glad to have the error corrected. The embankment did not extend "almost due north and south"; it was not parrallel "with the direction of the cliff"; but it extended almost due west and east, at right angle with the cliff, and as close as the high ground would permit to the site of the railroad bridge that now spans Wolf Run. The railroad does not pass "east" of the fortification, but passes right straight through it – or through where it was. There was, as stated, "probably more than an acre in the inclosure."

When the deep cut near Wolf Run was made for the railroad two parallel lines of the fortification running nearly west and east were crossed. They were a number of rods apart, and the north line was close to where the "level plane" abruptly slopes down to the run bottom, at the end next to the cliff. When the cut was fresh the "deep ditch" that had been filled tup could easily be traced. The late Capt. Daniel B. Dykins was the "boss" in charge of the work, and immediately called my attention to the discovery. He brought me a number of relics found in what was once the "deep ditch," – one being a piece of Indian pottery 10 inches long, the largest fragment in my collection. The tooth of time, in the form of rain and frost, the plow and harrow – the ground on which it stood has probably been under cultivation for more than one hundred years – has long since obliterated all surface vestiges of the structure. When about sixty years ago I first visited the site, in company with older persons, traces of the embankments could then still be seen, which were in the form of a parallelogram, agreeing with the discovery of Captain Dykins. The main part lies east of the railroad. Examination of the ground would suggest this, as the space between the cut and the cliff at this point is too small for a "large fortification."

Meginness quotes the following interesting account from the Moravian records:

"March 21, 1737, Conrad Weiser, an educated German, passed up the West Branch, and during the forenoon reached the large stream known as Canusarago, now called Muncy Creek. The stream was much swollen, and was crossed with much difficulty and great danger, in canoes. The same day Mr. Weiser passed a place where, in former times, a large fortification< had stood. It was built on a height surrounded by a deep ditch. The earth was thrown up nine or ten feet high, and as many wide. In Weiser's own words: "It is now in decay as, from appearances, it has been deserted beyond the memory of man."

Note the words in italics. To make the fortification a complete defence, a palisade must have been erected on the broad crown of the earthwork. A few rods east of the railroad, within the inclosure, and distinctly remembered, there was a hole partly filled up with stone, that all imagined must have been a cellar under some building. Years before the John Shoemaker boys, – who were grandsons of Mary Scudder, and lived but a short distance from the works, – when digging in this hole unearthed a badly rusted gun barrel. According to Weiser this was an "ancient fortification" 172 years ago, or 33 years before the advent of John Scudder. The many relics found on the plain around it, and the objects covered up in the ditch, indicate that this was an Indian camping ground for generations after the work was deserted.

Alderman A. H. Stead, of Williamsport, was raised on the farm on which the fortification stood. In a letter recently received from him he says: "I distinctly remember the old earthwork about which you ask, as it was still easily traceable when I was a boy. It ran back eastward from the cliff, and the north side or line of embankment was close to where the high ground suddenly drops down to the Wolf Run bottom. I plowed the Old Fort Field, as it was called, several times, and was very familiar with the ground. I always took pleasure in going over it, to show it to friends who visited with us. also remember the pit within the enclosure, which was thought to have been a cellar."

Another important fact: Heavy filling was necessary to raise the roadbed on the Wolf Run bottom to the proper grade, and as the cut did not furnish enough material, the earth from a strip on the bottom beside the track was removed to the depth of several feet, from the plain on which the fort stood to the run. Here on a straight line a number of stone heaps were uncovered, having the unmistakable appearance of having been fireplaces, as the stones plainly showed the action of fire, and traces of ashes and charcoal were found in the heaps. The workmen noticed this, and kept the heaps intact as near as they could. Who made these ancient fireplaces? What does their antiquity and immediate proximity to the fort mean? Was there a gate in the palisade facing them? It is much easier to ask such questions than it is to answer them.

But, surely, the mound marked 3 on Meginness' sketch map of this interesting relic of Muncy Valley was neither the plan nor the site of the ancient fortification. It did not extend north and south, and the railroad does not pass around it. In his first edition of Otzinachson (1856) Meginness was much nearer the truth when he said (page 30), "It was square, and consisted of embankments thrown up in regular order."

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Indian Relics, Character, Destiny
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The land that the whites now possess and hold so dear is not all that the vanquished red men left for their successors to have and treasure. The aborigines left many legacies, not purposely but incidentally, which are now sought for and highly valued, because they throw some light on their manner of life, their simple wants, their pastimes, their struggles, and even their hope of a future life. The plow, rain and flood have unearthed many, and still continue to uncover interesting objects, as arrow points, spear-heads, stone axes, flint knives, tobacco pipes, pestles, mortars, celts, gorgets, pendants, drills, sinkers, beads, pottery, paint stones, hammer stones, memorial stones, ceremonial weapons, and occasionally rude images, that, even as books and pictures, give us some knowledge of the children of the forest whose wigwams once stood on the same soil, and who once owned and loved the same streams and valleys and mountains — the same magnificent domain that the pale faces now claim, and would in turn fight no less desperately for, if another race were to come to our shores and try, on their own terms and by force, to get possession. The relics they left us are grave reminders of their melancholy fate. Only the imperishable articles they fabricated are now found, however, because the many things they made of wood, bone, horn, shell, grass, feathers, and the skins of animals, and on some of which they may have spent as much or even more time and skill, have all decayed and vanished.

The famous Warrior Spring, located along the edge of the river near Port Penn, was on the border of one of the most frequented and inviting Indian camping grounds in the West Branch Valley. On the high bank above the spring, for many rods both up and down the river, numerous relics were in past years found, and occasionally some are still picked up. The account of the Battle of the Muncy Hills says that the whites had crossed the hill, and discovered fires, where the Indians lay during the night. The vigilant natives in camp along the river had evidently discovered them, and tried to get around them. One of the white men understood the cunning of the Indians well, having for nine years been a captive among them, and for this very reason insisted that the command should fall back on the path over which they had come-the Indian trail from the Warrior Spring to the head of Delaware Run, thence down over the Warrior Run, and on down the river to Northumberland. And on the summit of the hill, as they had been warned, they encountered the Indians.

Mr. Charles G. Hewitt now owns part of the land (until recently owned by the heirs of the late Stephen F. Ellis) called "The Folly," that was surveyed February 26th, 1787, by virtue of a warrant granted to Samuel Titmus, February 2d, 1785, and for which the said Titmus obtained a patent dated May 1st, 1787 — just twenty-four years after the battle was fought. The tract is in part described as "situate on the old Indian Path leading over Muncy Hill and joining the Battle Ground in Turbut (now Delaware) Township, Northumberland County: Beginning at a Pine Tree, thence by said Battle Ground south 35 degrees west 169 perches to a Chestnut Oak, in witness whereof His Excellency Benjamin Franklin Esquire President of the Supreme Executive Council hath hereto set his hand, and caused the State Seal to be hereto affixed." The description and the draft both show that the land on all sides of the tract was then still vacant, that the Indian trail crossed it, and that the Battle Ground was on the path, and apparently or mainly on the land adjoining. But it seems probable that the battle raged over more ground than the surveyors knew. There were a number of relics found on the Titmus tract. John Y. Ellis, son of Stephen F., says that nearly fifty years ago he helped his father clear the ground adjacent to what in the description is designated as the Battle Ground, and that among the various articles found he remembers there were several iron tomahawks; a "horse pistol" that was still loaded, but of which the wooden butt had entirely decayed; a knee buckle, and the tricker-guard of a musket. And all this agrees with the record in Loudos's Indian Narratives, discovered in the State library at Harrisburg by the late Hon. Thomas Wood, of Muncy, while he represented Lycoming County in the Assembly of 1854-'55, as mentioned in Otzinachson.

The account of this battle proves that the pale faces could be just about as cruel and savage as the red men. When they reached the vicinity of Northumberland, on returning after the fight, some of these so-called civilized warriors unfeelingly and by deliberate treachery murdered three innocent friendly Indians, merely because they were Indians, and from a mere savage thirst for blood because of some murders that had been perpetrated by hostile Indians. Many such shameful outrages were committed by white men. The reader may have read of the unpitying barbarity of Frederick Stump in murdering six friendly Indians in 1768, near the mouth of Middle Creek, in Snyder County; or of the cold-blooded butchering of ninety-six peaceable and inoffensive Moravian Indians on the 8th day of March, 1782, at Gnadenhuatten, Ohio, by a lawless band of brutal white men from the western parts of Virginia and Pennsylvania. One-half of these unfortunate Indians were feeble old people and children. After the fiendish murder the victims "were scalped and cut to pieces." Could the savages be more savage? Or the reader may recall the sad story of the celebrated Logan, who, like his noble father, Shikellimy, was a warm friend of the white man, but in whom the savage nature was aroused when his whole family of thirteen was inhumanly murdered by white men, and whose spirit of revenge was never satisfied until he had taken one white scalp for each member of his exterminated household. Was he more cruel than his cruel white enemies? Meginness declared a truth no reasonable person can deny when, in the first chapter of the revised edition of Otzinachson, he said: "Many Indians were made demons through the treachery and dishonesty of white men."

We are not left to the silent implements and objects transmitted to us to understand the true character of the Indians who made them, nor to the unscrupulous Indian slayers, or the biased chroniclers, who believed that the only good Indians are the Indians in the spirit world. Many fair-minded persons who have been much among them and studied them—such men as Conrad Weiser, George Catlin, Capt. R. H. Pratt, and Bishop Whipple — have shown that they were not totally depraved and not always savage, but that they were as human as white people, and often exhibited the noblest traits of character. In proof of this the following incident mentioned by Drake in The Aboriginal Races of North America may be cited. An Indian in bad weather wandered into the back settlement of Virginia, and sought refuge at the house of a settler. He was thirsty and hungry, but was refused both food and shelter. "Get you gone, you Indian dog," was the only answer he got. In the course of time it chanced that this same settler was lost in the woods, and after a long tramp came to an Indian cabin.

He asked the way to the white settlement, but as it was night the Indian told him he should stay with him until morning and he would then show him the way. After kindly feeding and lodging him, the Indian next morning took him through the wilderness, until they came in sight of the settlement. He then looked him full in the face and asked, "Don't you know me?" The settler then recognized him, and was horror-struck to find himself at the mercy of an Indian to whom he been so inhuman and was now so much indebted. Dumbfounded he tried to make excuses, when the Indian interrupted him and said, "When you see poor Indian fainting for a cup of cold water, don't say again, "Get you gone, you Indian dog!" He then took leave of him. Drake adds: "It is not difficult to say which of these two had the best claim to the name of Christian."

Conrad Weiser, who in 1737 inspected the ancient fortification near Wolf Run, was one of the best and most useful men of his day in Pennsylvania. He had lived for some time with a Chief of the Six Nations, learning their language and becoming well acquainted with their habits and ideas of things. In 1729 he settled in Tolpehocken Valley; soon after which he became the officially recognized Interpreter of the Province of Pennsylvania. He was prominent in many important councils with the Indians. No white man in the Province so fully had their respect and confidence. He was a peacemaker, through whom conflict was often averted. He and the famous Shikellimy were warm friends. When in 1752 Berks County was organized, he was made the first President Judge. His eldest daughter, Anna Maria, became the wife of the celebrated Lutheran minister, the Rev. Dr. Henry Melchior Muhlenberg. An anecdote in which Weiser figures may here be related to show what the Indians then thought of their manifest destiny. Conrad was seated on a log in the forest meditating. An Indian, who knew him, stealthily approached and took a seat intrusively close to him. He moved, but the Indian only pressed the harder against him. Conrad moved again, and so did the Indian. He then wanted to know what was meant by this pressing familiarity. The Indian answered: "Thus the whites did to the Indians. They lighted unbidden on our lands. We moved on; they followed. We still moved, and they are following after. Conrad, I will not push you from the log entirely. But will your people cease their crowding ere we roll into the waters?"

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The Muncy Valley
Snap Shots Of Scenery, Geology, And History
By J.M.M. Gernerd of Muncy


The Gernard Home

J. M. M. GERNERD, editor of Now and Then, was born in Lehigh county, Pennsylvania, July 22, 1836, son of David and Lydia (Mohr) Gernerd. David Gernerd was of German extraction, and removed from Lehigh county, Pennsylvania, to Lycoming county, in the year 1839. He settled at Muncy, where he worked at his trade, that of a chairmaker, until his death, which occurred December 31, 1846. He married Lydia Mohr, who followed him to the grave in 1855; they were the parents of one child, J. M. M. The latter was educated in the common schools, and in 1864, started a music and variety store in Muncy, Pennsylvania, which he continued until 1872. He has been a clerk in the post office at Muncy, and at ‘Various times, about ton years altogether, he has been employed by the First National Bank of Muncy. He has also served two terms as school director and three terms as notary public. For the last ten years he has been interested in the manufacture of bedsprings. Mr. Gernerd instituted the scheme to raise funds for the erection of a monument to the memory of Capt. John Brady; the plan was to receive $1 subscriptions; the list was started in December, 1875, and in less than four years there was a beautiful cenotaph erected at a cost of about $1,600. The unveiling of the monument took place in the Muncy cemetery, October 15, 1879, and was witnessed by thousands of spectators. Mr. Gernerd also took an active interest in securing the necessary funds to erect in the cemetery near Muncy a beautiful monument to perpetuate the names and deeds of the patriotic solders who fell while defending the Union. In June, 1868, Mr. Gernerd started a bright and interesting little magazine, known as Now and Then; it was devoted to collecting and preserving local history, and was exceedingly interesting and valuable; there were nineteen editions published from the beginning until 1878, forming the first volume, at which time it was discontinued until July, 1888, when it again appeared and has been published monthly ever since. He has a collection of Indian relics numbering over 7,000, many of which are very rare and curious, and were nearly all found in the Muncy valley; among this collection are several Indian pipes made of clay and stone, iron tomahawks, stone axes, pestles, and thousands of arrows and spearheads. In July, 1862, he was married to Louisa C. Sieger, of Allentown, Pennsylvania, and to this union has been born one child, Lydia. Mr. Gernerd was a strong Abolitionist, and joined the Republican party at the beginning of that great organization.
--MEGINNESS--






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