The Rocks of Deer Creek - Pages 84-123



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THE FIELD OF DARTS.

One-half mile southeast of Rock Ridge, and two and one-half miles 
northeast of the Rocks and bordering on the Mine Old Fields, is a valley 
in which have been found numerous Indian arrow-heads or darts. The stone 
of which they were made is unlike any that exists in that locality. Either 
the material of which these points were manufactured was brought there for 
that purpose, or it was the place of a great battle or battles fought by 
contending savage forces. Possibly, those confederated nations, Oneidas, 
Cayugas, Senecas, Mohawks, Onandagoes and Tuscaroras fought at that spot 
the Delawares and Susquehannocks, also confederated tribes, and that that 
contest was decisive of that long-continued struggle which reduced the 
latter nations to the condition of women, which they were contemptuously 
called after their subjection. No conjecture is at fault in considering 
that eventful past in which almost every foot of territory occupied by 
them was the place of battle between opposing Northmen and Southmen, and 
no excess of imagination can paint in too vivid colors the horrors of the 
struggle. To the Southmen the coming of the Northmen was as the coming of 
Gog and Magog. All resistance was vain. Loups and Susquehannocks were as 
helpless in the grasp of their foes, as effete Romans in the hands of 
Goths and Vandals.

History is ever repeating itself. Three centuries later the territory 
south, and bordering on the former, was the theatre of a contest between 
civilized people almost unparalleled, in its violence, in

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the history of warfare, resulting as in the past in the triumph of the 
warriors of the northern lakes and rivers, but as also in the past, 
without loss of honor to the conquered. The weaker was overborne by the 
stronger. Once more, if the prophet is indeed a seer, the mighty tribes of 
the distant North will move down upon the strong ones of the South. Russ 
and American in the valley of the Mississippi contending for the mastery, 
the former finding that valley the place of graves. So shall close the 
conflict of the world, and the earth shall keep jubilee a thousand years. 
The voice of Gitche Manito, the mighty, will yet be potent to subdue man's 
stubborn nature, and to allay his thirst for human blood. Happy would it 
be for mankind if his counsels were now heeded:

"O, my children! my poor children!
Listen to the words of wisdom,
Listen to the words of warning
From the lips of the Great Spirit,
From the Master of life, who made you!

"I am weary of your quarrels,
Weary of your wars and bloodshed,
Weary of your prayers for vengeance,
Of your wranglings and disunion,
All your strength is in your union,
All your danger is in discord;
Therefore be at peace henceforward,
And as brothers live together."



Page 86

THE CHROME PITS.

Southwest of the Rocks, from one to three miles distant, are extensive 
deposits of chrome. They have been worked for many years, chiefly by the 
Messrs. Tyson, of Baltimore, enterprising merchants of that city. The 
working has often been intermitted for considerable spaces of time, but 
when the Baltimore and Delta Railroad shall have been completed, this 
industry will doubtless be continuous, and also enlarged, and thus add 
materially to the wealth of this section of the county of Harford. In 
addition to chrome, there are in the neighborhood valuable deposits of 
iron ore, magnesia, black lead, flint, asbestos and natural paint. The 
development of all these sources of material prosperity is but a question 
of time and of cheap transportation to market. The rock of Rock Ridge, 
which is fire-proof and particularly adapted for furnace hearths, may of 
itself become a considerable source of income. As an item of history 
interesting to all, it may be noted that the fire-proof character of these 
rocks was first discovered by Dr. Thomas Johnson, of the United States 
Army, and brother of the late Mrs. Eliza A. Preston, of Deer Creek.



Page 87

THE SLATE QUARRIES.

The Slate Quarries of Harford County, Maryland, and York County, 
Pennsylvania, are distant about eight miles northeast of the Rocks. They 
are a source of prosperity to the section of country in which they are 
situated, and promise, upon the completion of the Baltimore and Delta and 
York and Peach Bottom Railroads, to develop its wealth indefinitely. The 
slate is of superior quality, and held in high estimation wherever used. 
The quarries employ many men and afford subsistence to many families. The 
Welsh alone, who are chiefly employed, constitute a population of six or 
seven hundred. The village of Bangor, upon the summit of the Ridge, is 
composed principally of this nationality. It has several stores and other 
places of business. There are two churches, Welsh Congregational and 
Calvinistic Methodist. One of these has a settled pastor, the Rev. Mr. 
Hughes, and in both the Welsh language is exclusively used in religious 
services. These churches have given a desirable moral tone to the 
community, though, like all other Christian communities, the good find in 
the natural antagonism of the human heart a constant incentive to holy 
work. The village of Delta, at the foot of the Ridge, is composed chiefly 
of a native population. It has many places of business, but no church. In 
the immediate vicinity of the two villages are Slate Ridge, Slateville and 
Mt. Nebo churches, the first under the pastoral care of the Rev. Joseph D. 
Smith, a gentleman loved by his congregation, and held in high esteem by 
the

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people generally, irrespective of creed or profession; the second by the 
Rev. Mr. Davenport, a gentleman of deserved popularity among all classes; 
the last is under the charge of the Rev. Mr. Litsinger, of the Methodist 
Protestant Church, a Christian minister of enlarged and liberal views, 
whose praise is in all the churches.

The representative business men at the Quarries of the Welsh population 
are Faulk Jones, William E. Williams, John Humphreys and Hugh C. Roberts, 
Esqrs., John Parry & Co., Richard Reese & Co., Wm. C. Robertson & Co., 
John W. Jones & Co., Richard Hughes & Co., Robert L. Jones & Co., and 
Humphrey Lloyd, Esq. These gentlemen came to America in their youth, and 
by industry and skill have accumulated property; and occupying prominent 
and influential positions in the community, have given proof that industry 
and integrity are roads to success.

The first Welsh worker in the Quarries was a Mr. Davis; the first 
successful worker a Mr. Parry. The latter leased from Major Williamson 
thirty or thirty-five years ago, acquired a fortune, traveled into foreign 
countries, and died at Jerusalem. His family is now living in Bangor, 
Wales, on the interest of the money made at Bangor, United States of 
America. He is represented to have been a man of great integrity, a proof 
of which is, that after his return to Wales he called together his 
creditors, and paid the whole amount of his indebtedness to them, with 
interest.

The Quarries constitute a part of the group of interesting objects that 
render the locality of the Rocks of Deer Creek one of great attraction, and

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the visitor to the Rocks will do well to visit them. The Quarries have a 
promising future. Delta's magnificent distances will be of the past, and 
Bangor's sombre residences will be substituted by more pretentious 
edifices. The whole ridge will be alive with busy and enterprising 
workers, bringing from the bowels of the earth the material that shall 
shield its purchasers from sun, and rain, and snow, and make fortunes for 
the sellers.



THE HORSE EPIDEMIC AND THE GUINEAMAN'S PONY.

More than one hundred years ago, during the lifetime of Benjamin Rigdon, 
grandfather of the late George W. S. Rigdon, an epidemic among horses, 
very destructive in its character, prevailed throughout all this section 
of country. Tradition tells us that the Durhams, ancestors of the present 
families of that name, who were wealthy, owning large tracts of land and 
many horses, lost two hundred of them by the scourge; that the only horse 
that escaped the plague was a pony owned by an aged Guinea-man belonging 
to the first Mr. Rigdon. This old negro lived in a small cabin on the top 
of Rock Ridge, a short distance above the present residence of Richard 
Mayes, Esq., and not distant from the Rocks of Deer Creek. Whether the 
preservation

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of the life of the pony was owing to the healthfulness of the spot, or its 
isolated position, is not known; most likely to the latter, as the disease 
was, doubtless, contagious. Though not another representative of the 
equine race was left, the fortunate pony ate sprightlily of the slight 
herbage that grew on the open places of Rock Ridge summit, or of the corn 
grown by his thrifty master on the plain below. Looking down on the vast 
reaches of country on either side of the noted ridge, which towers in 
mountain height above the valleys, if he could not say, with Alexander 
Selkirk (Robinson Crusoe), on the island of Juan Fernandez,
"I am monarch of all I survey,
My right there is none to dispute,"
he could say, "I am the sole owner of a horse in all these broad domains;" 
and the proud pony, joining his master in the refrain, could utter,
"No pent-up Utica contracts our powers,
The whole boundless continent is ours."

Theirs it was not as against superior man, who rules the beasts of the 
field, but as against the beasts themselves, every one of which, save the 
pony, had succumbed to the power of the fell destroyer. The invulnerable 
pony was alone in all his glory. The value of such a pony could not be 
estimated.

The Guinea-man was a character. We write only of his religion. In that he 
was Fetish. He bore constantly about his person a feitico, the Portuguese 
name for an amulet--a talisman. To this gru grus, the name of the charm in 
his native language, he attached much importance, as it shielded

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his family and all living things belonging to it--dog or cat or pony--from 
disease, and made all safe from the machinations of their enemies. We are 
not to infer from his possession of the feitico, and the power he ascribed 
to it, that he had no idea of a Supreme Spirit, a King of Heaven, or that 
he did not worship Him. Worship of the Highest is universal. So thought 
Pope:

"Father of all in every age,
In every clime adored,
By saint, by savage, and by sage,
Jehovah, Jove, or Lord."

The Guinea-man could not but recognize Him who

"Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze,
Glows in the stars, blossoms in the trees,
Lives through all life, extends through all extent,
Spreads undivided, operates unspent."

Fetishism is not a primitive religion. It is a corruption of religion, and 
even enlightened Christians may well be fearful of the feitico, for the 
tendency to idolatry is universal. Solomon built altars for Chemosh and 
Moloch. The possession of the feitico by the Guinea-man of Rock Ridge 
rendered him very obnoxious to his fellow-servants. They were afraid of 
him. "He possesses a charm," said they; "he can kill us if he will. He is 
a wizard, a conjurer; his old woman is a witch; they deal with spirits." 
No one of them would have touched that mountain, for to touch it was 
death, they thought. If they could have taken his life by poison, the 
usual mode of their race, they would not have done so; for does not the 
power of the feitico survive after its possessor has gone hence, and may 
not his spirit

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come in the silent hours of the night to avenge his wrongs? This 
apprehension was his castle. A cabin without wall, or moat, or drawbridge, 
was stronger than a feudal castle. It was defended by superstition.

That pony should have been skinned at its death, his cuticle stuffed and 
preserved, and labeled, "The sole survivor."



THE CHURCH OF THE ROCKS.

"A CITY set on a hill" cannot be hid, nor can a church in such a position. 
This is eminently true of the house of worship now in the occupancy of the 
religious denomination known as the Evangelical Association. Situated on 
the summit of a lofty eminence directly opposite the Rocks, having them in 
full view, and overlooking the romantic and picturesque valley of La 
Grange, it looks upon a scene of alternate and mingled beauty and grandeur 
not often seen. This view has a peculiar psychological effect upon the 
intelligent and appreciative beholder. It intuitively demonstrates (I hope 
my language is philosophical) the former existence of a Rock Ridge Lake. 
That mighty basin, scooped out of the mighty hills which surround it, and 
the violent breaks of the Ridge, where the waters of Deer Creek rush 
through it, are physical proofs of

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its past existence, that, like axioms in mathematics, are self-evident.

Years previous to the building of the church, religious services were held 
on the summit of the Rocks. Prompted by curiosity, if by no worthier 
motive, there gathered once on that high eminence a congregation of men, 
women and children to hear the preacher of righteousness, who, we may well 
conjecture, was, with his audience, inspired by the scenes around them. In 
the selection of this spot for the exercise of his vocation, he but 
imitated the example of One greater than himself. "And seeing the 
multitudes, He went up into a mountain, and when He was set, His disciples 
came unto Him; and He opened His mouth and taught them."

More than a century previously there was a gathering of the chiefs of the 
Indians whose habitations were not distant from the Rocks, to listen to a 
sermon by a Swedish minister. The lessons were those which are now given 
to such as sit under the ministry of the Word. The clergyman spoke to them 
of the principal historical facts of Christianity--such as the fall of 
Adam by eating an apple, the coming of Christ to repair the evil, His 
labors, sufferings and miracles. When he had finished, one of the chiefs, 
thanking him for the discourse, related one of the mythical traditions of 
his people, which he deemed to be of like credibility, and equally binding 
upon the faith of all, and thus proved the inefficacy of the lessons 
taught him by the Christian teacher. Now, the lessons taught in the Church 
of the Rocks are doubtless believed, and, we would fain hope, practiced.



Page 94

MIKE'S ROCK.

A Few miles northeast of the Rocks of Deer Creek, and on Rock Ridge, is a 
large rock known by the name of the title of this article. By the side of 
it is a large tree, the branches of which overhang it. An unfortunate, 
wearied with the perplexities of life, perhaps its agonies, closed here 
that life, if not precisely in the manner expressed in the following lines 
of an atheist, found among his papers after his death, yet in one of the 
modes common to the sad who lack fortitude:

"An hour more;
Sixty minutes, and the light
Of this, we mis-call life, goes out forever.
Forever? Aye; beyond the grave is found
No life, save that great primal force, which here
Displays itself alike in growth of weed
Or human soul. Why longer live and suffer,
When the finger upon this slender
Bar of steel will end, with one sharp flash,
The hurry and the heart-ache?

--"Death's messenger,
From out this glittering tube, I call, to bid
Me sleep; and in that sleep I dread no dreams,
And no to-morrow. Salve, rex terrorum!
Moriturus te saluto."

A rash act, which was followed by a surprise. Death terminates this, not 
that; and that is eternal.



Page 95

THE ANCIENT MILL AND THE HONEST MILLER.

Half-way between the Indian Cupboard, the retreat of Alexius, the noted 
fisherman and trapper, and the Otter Rock, above which was the habitation 
of Waiter the Hermit, is an ancient mill. The first mill was of logs, and 
owned by an Englishman named Sankey. He was probably a Yorkshireman, as 
tradition informs us that the boys of that day amused themselves with his, 
to them, singular brogue. The mill, in the course of time, passed to 
Underwood, Harry, Morton, and J. Bond Preston, in the order named. This 
mill has furnished for many years bread for man and "stuff" for beast. One 
possessed of good descriptive powers and of a poetical genius might make 
the mill and its picturesque surroundings furnish material for an article 
that would not discount the reputation of Scribner or Harper, or any other 
leading magazine. Such description is not sought. Attention is directed to 
it rather because it is one of the ancient landmarks or watermarks of its 
neighborhood, and is a connecting link between the distant past and the 
immediate present. It derives also some notoriety from the snake story of 
the ancient trapper, a snake rivaling the sea serpent that has been so 
often seen on our Atlantic coast--from New England to Key West--the 
habitation of which was on the wooded hill opposite it.

In this ancient mill was once upon a time, as tradition tells us, an 
honest miller. To me, all millers are honest; but unhappily for the 
reputation

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of the craft, suspicious people, or people who, like the Heathen Chinee, 
as Bret Harte tells us, themselves familiar with the ways that are dark, 
are sometimes oblivious of the saying:

"Who steals my purse steals trash,
But he who filches from me my good name
Takes that which does not himself enrich,
And makes me poor indeed."

The honest miller was Thomas Wright, remembered by the few ancient people 
who have survived him. The story of the mysterious pig is both a proof and 
illustration of the integrity of the miller. Once on a time he left Sam's 
Creek, Carroll county, Md., early on the morning of a summer day, for the 
mill on Deer Creek. He baa walked but a short distance when he heard the 
squealing of a diminutive pig that was following in his tracks. To escape 
the animal that was intent upon accompanying him on his journey, he left 
the road, walking through fields and forests. But in vain. The pig was 
equal to the emergency, its instincts pointing out the way of the miller 
unerringly. The integrity of the miller consisted in this, that he made 
every possible exertion to escape from that pig, showing that if there has 
ever been in this Christian country a miller who fattened his pigs on 
other people's corn, he was not that miller. The sad thing about the story 
of the pig is, that the honest miller, being of superstitious turn of 
mind, interpreted its singular following as an omen of his death. His 
death did occur a short time thereafter.

The wheels of the ancient mill yet turn--not the wheels used when the 
honest miller was occupant,

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but turbine wheels. The old mill is doomed. The coming narrow-gauge, 
insuring facility of transit to and from our large commercial city, will 
make it a potent reason why men of capital should utilize the great and 
continuous water-power for manufactories on a larger scale.

The unceasing flow of the waters of Deer Creek symbolizes the onward flow 
of humanity uninterrupted by successive generations. Humanity lives and 
the waters flow on, and such may be for a billion of years to come. But 
within the hearing of the music of no onflowing stream will there be, if 
my informant has uttered truth, a more honest miller than Thomas Wright. 
"An honest man is the noblest work of God."

"At the window, looking upon a crystal stream,
There sat a little lady, indulging in a dream,
A dream of fairy visions comes up before her eyes,
As she gazes now intently upon the azure skies.

"A soft breeze fans the valley, the sun rests on the hill,
he water murmurs sweetly as it rushes past 'the mill;'
The earth seems glad of springtime, unfolding every hour
From Nature's store, the tender bud that holds the fragrant flower.

"The lady sits a-dreaming, with head buried in her hand,
And visions come a-trooping from off a fairy-land,
And in her dreamy fancies there is a potent spell
That acts like charm of music, the smiling lips now tell.

"The heart cons o'er its treasures glowing in rosy light,
The spirit basks in beauty like stars that gem the night,
And thus the little lady dreamed happy hours away,
So happy in her musings she fain would have them stay."

The little lady whose musings form a proper sequel to the story of the 
ancient mill and its

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occupant, cherishes now, and it will ever be so, the highest admiration 
and esteem for the honest miller.



THE OLDEST INHABITANT.

The oldest inhabitant now living in the vicinity of the Rocks of Deer 
Creek is Mrs. Rebecca Smith. She was born within three-fourths of a mile 
of her present residence. Here, within sight of the Rocks, she has lived 
to be almost a centenarian, being now in the ninety-sixth year of her age, 
surviving all who commenced with her the journey of life. Of a cheerful 
disposition and vigorous constitution, she has borne the burdens of life 
with comparative ease; and in a serene old age, comforted by loving 
hearts, she is awaiting resignedly the final summons.

Retaining unimpaired her mental faculties, which were always strong, she 
is able to entertain the curious of a later generation with most 
interesting descriptions of the habits, customs and manners of her early 
cotemporaries, distinctly recollecting and graphically relating 
innumerable incidents of the far past. In her youth this portion of the 
country was comparatively a wilderness. Without attractive and comfortable 
residences, as now; no convenient and well supervised roads, paths 
usually; no churches, preaching in private houses; the schoolhouse a rude 
cabin of logs, without any floor but

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nature's, the chimney built of sticks, unplaned seats, without backs. 
Carriages there were none, the ordinary mode of travel being on horseback. 
The whole progress for ninety-six years, from the rude past to the present 
more advanced civilization, has been witnessed by her. But whatever 
contrasts she makes between the past and the present, they are without 
invidiousness. All along she has accepted the conditions of life, and the 
circumstances attending it, as they were more or less favorable, without 
murmur or complaint, recognizing the fact that the Most High appoints the 
bounds of our habitations, and that all things promote the happiness of 
the submissive.

It was her great felicity to be united in marriage, at a comparatively 
early age, with a gentleman of superior intellectual and social qualities, 
a conscientious Christian, a faithful friend, and a considerate and loving 
husband and father. The name of Amos Smith is to this day in this 
community a synonym of all that is excellent in character--it is as 
precious ointment poured forth. The memories of his unobtrusive acts of 
kindness are treasured, and his example valued as a rich legacy to those 
who have followed him.

The venerable matron, the oldest inhabitant of the neighborhood of the 
Rocks of Deer Creek, now leaning upon her staff, and bending toward that 
house of the earth that is the decreed abode of all, suggests, in the 
remarkable vigor of her physical being, and in the sprightliness of her 
intellectual life, lessons of wisdom that the young everywhere may with 
profit learn. An active life and a cheerful mind were the great treasures 
she possessed--

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more valuable than gold or silver, or the jewels that blaze in the 
coronets of queens.



THE YOUNGEST INHABITANTS.

The youngest inhabitant in the neighborhood of the Rocks is William Cecil 
Gladden, infant son of our well-known fellow-citizen, William Gladden, Esq.

Of the immediate vicinity of the Rocks, the youngest inhabitants are 
Bessie and Jessie, twin daughters of Joseph Wetherill, Esq., proprietor of 
the store at that place. Born under the very shadows of the Rocks, and by 
the side of Deer Creek, in view of the plunging waters of its romantic 
fall--all that remains of the once majestic cataract of Rock Ridge Lake--
they are passing their confiding and unsuspecting life happy in the 
present and without care for the future. These children and William Cecil 
Gladden are cousins. May life be to the three all that fond parents and 
loving friends can wish. To each we dedicate the prayer of the gifted 
Willis;

"Light to thy paths, bright creature! I would charm
Thy being if I could, that it should be
Ever as now thou dreamest, and flow on,
Thus innocent and beautiful, to heaven."



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THE ORIGINAL INHABITANTS.

The original inhabitants were the Susquehannock Indians. Their territory 
extended from the Susquehanna River westward as far as the Allegany 
Mountains. This nation had a close alliance with the Leu Lenapes or 
Delawares, who occupied the country from the head of the Chesapeake Bay to 
the Kittatinny Mountains northward, and as far eastward as the Connecticut 
River. This confederacy carried on a long war with the Indians who lived 
to the north of them, between the Kittatinny Mountains and Lake Ontario, 
who called themselves Mingoes, and were called by the English the Five 
Nations. At the time of the settlement of Jamestown, Virginia, this war 
was raging with great fury. In one of Captain Smith's excursions up the 
Chesapeake, at the mouth of the Susquehanna, in 1608, he met with five or 
six canoes full of warriors who were coming to attack their enemies in the 
rear. Having made peace with the Adirondacks, through the intercession of 
the French, who were then settling Canada, they turned their arms against 
the Lenapi and their confederates, and subduing them, reduced them to 
almost the condition of slaves. Peace was granted them on condition that 
they should put themselves under the protection of the Mingoes, confine 
themselves to raising corn, hunting for the subsistence of their families, 
and no longer have the power of making war. This is what the Indians call 
making them women. In this condition the Lenapes and their confederates 
were when the settlement of Pennsylvania was

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begun. What is said by Stith of the language and dress of the 
Susquehannocks, may deserve to be here inserted: "Their language and 
attire were very suitable to their stature and appearance; for their 
language sounded deep and solemn, and hollow, like a voice in a vault. 
Their attire was the skins of bears and wolves, so cut that the man's head 
went through the neck, and the ears of the bear were fastened on his 
shoulders, while the nose and teeth hung dangling upon his breast. Behind 
was another bear's face split, with a paw hanging at the nose. And their 
sleeves coming down to their elbows, were the necks of bears, with their 
arms going through the mouth and paws hanging to the nose. One of them had 
the head of a wolf hanging to a chain for a jewel, and his tobacco pipe 
was three-quarters of a yard long, carved with a bird, a deer and other 
devices at the great end. His arrows were three-quarters of a yard long, 
headed with splinters of a white, crystal-like stone in the form of a 
heart, an inch broad and an inch and a half long. These he carried at his 
back in a wolf's skin for a quiver, with his bow in one hand and a club in 
the other." Such was the appearance of the first inhabitants of Deer Creek 
and the Rocks. The Mingoes came, saw, conquered, and, occupying the 
country as masters, ruled for a time. They, in turn, were overborne by a 
superior race, and we have only the recollections of the deeds of the bold 
warriors.



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THE MASSACRE OF THE MINGOES.

The Mingoes of Deer Creek, as a body, left this locality in the year 1752. 
A few of them remained until, as is plausibly conjectured, the winter of 
1763, and left immediately after the extermination of their kindred who 
had been living on Conestogoe Creek, Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. These 
Indians were the remains of a tribe long settled at that place, and thence 
called Conestogoes. Upon the arrival of the English in Pennsylvania this 
tribe sent messengers to welcome them, with presents of venison, corn and 
skins, and the whole tribe entered into a treaty of friendship with the 
first proprietary, William Penn--a treaty which was to last as long as the 
sun should shine, or the waters run in the rivers. This treaty was often 
renewed--the chain brightened, as the Conestogoes expressed it--from time 
to time. This tribe was ultimately reduced to twenty persons--seven men, 
five women and eight children, when by one of the most cowardly and 
dastardly acts on record in all the protracted and bloody contests with 
the Indians, this handful of peaceable people were murdered in cold blood 
by fifty-seven Conestogoe gentlemen (?). On Wednesday, the 14th day of 
December, 1763, these cavaliers, mounted on good horses, and armed with 
fire-locks, hangers and hatchets, entered Conestogoe Manor, and 
surrounding the defenceless village, fired upon, stabbed and hatcheted to 
death three men, two women and a boy. Shehaes, an old man who assisted at 
the second treaty held with them by Penn in 1701, was among the slain. All 
were Scalped, and their huts

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burned. The remaining Mingoes, absent at the time of the massacre--they 
were out among their white neighbors selling baskets, brooms and bowls--
were taken into protection by the humane magistrates of Lancaster, and 
secured from harm, as they thought, in the work-house of that town. Fifty 
of the chivalry, whose names are worthy to be inscribed on the temple of 
dishonor as high up as the summits of the Rocks of Deer Creek, suddenly 
appeared before that town on the 27th of December, invested the work-
house, and by gradual approaches, doubtless, assaulted, captured and put 
to death all that were left of the Mingoes--men, women and children, 
fourteen in all. The remains of the murdered victims were dragged into the 
street and exposed to view. The fifty patriots of the Simon Girty stamp 
then mounted their horses, huzzaed in triumph, and rode off, 
congratulating themselves on their victory.

"Ah! where are the soldiers that fought here of yore,
The sod is upon them, they'll struggle no more,
The hatchet is fallen, the red man is low;
But near him reposes the arm of the foe.

"The bugle is silent; the war whoop is dead;
There is a murmur of waters and woods in their stead,
And the raven and owl chant a symphony drear
From the dark waving pines o'er the combatants' bier.

"Sleep, soldiers of merit! sleep gallants of yore!
The hatchet is fallen, the struggle is o'er,
While the fir-tree is green and the wind rolls a wave,
The tear-drop shall brighten the turf of the brave?"

The Mingoes of Deer Creek, hearing of the massacre of their people, and 
fearing that their lives would not be secure even among the humane white

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inhabitants of their neighborhood, left to join their people in the West 
or South. Their fears were groundless. We have never heard that gentlemen 
of Maryland ever deported themselves toward defenceless women and innocent 
children as those Bayard-like representatives of the men of England who 
wore the red rose.

The Mingoes occasionally visited their former homes, but that for a few 
years only. In 1764, a year after their removal, a party visited a 
locality in the neighborhood of New Park, York County, Pennsylvania, ten 
miles distant from the Rocks. There was a wigwam still standing at that 
date on the farm now owned by Duncan Brown, Esq., then possessed by his 
paternal grandfather. They were seen walking around it, and seemingly 
viewing it with a curious interest. To Deer Creek and the Rocks a final 
adieu came. The descendants of the former occupants know of these 
localities only as the homes of their ancestors--the places where the 
bear, the wolf and the beaver were many, and where the eagle built her 
nest upon the High Rocks, beneath which their chiefs sat by their council 
fires.



ROCKS LITERATURE.

I Am not perfectly satisfied with the designation I have given to the 
communications in prose and poetry which I have selected for this place in 
this

Page 106

book. Rocks Literature is not poetical; and the title is justified only by 
the fact that these contributions have been inspired by the sublimities 
and beauties of that wonder of nature, the Rocks of Deer Creek, with their 
romantic contiguities and surroundings. Could I have said "The Curiosties 
of Literature," the name given by Disraeli the elder to that confessedly 
most curious collection of literary gems which bears that title, I should 
assuredly be content, assuming, of course, that my collection would bear 
some proper relation in their literary qualities to that unique gathering 
of rare intellectualities. No other title could I use, because the 
literature I collect bears relation to but one thing--the Rocks of Deer 
Creek and their surroundings. And I am shut up to the necessity of using 
the material I have, material not created by myself, save one short essay, 
but by others, and for the quality of which I am in no degree responsible.

I am not to be understood, however, as disparaging the efforts of the 
writers in prose and in poetry whose contributions I shall insert in this 
book. I have no doubt that many of the readers of them will derive both 
pleasure and profit in their perusal.

I make these contributions a part of this volume, because they are a part 
of the history, so to speak, of the Rocks, and because they show that the 
Rocks are potent in inspiration.

The literature of the Rocks is abundant--sufficient, perhaps, to make a 
volume respectable in size. It is in accordance with my plan to limit my 
collection to a few selections. The first was written some years ago by a 
girl of tender years, and was, perhaps, her first effort in such writing.

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The Rocks of Deer Creek.

"Nature, in her delineations, ever delights in giving variety to the 
beauty and magnificence of her creations. Mountain, hill, valley and plain 
have each their enchantments, but the Rocks of Deer Creek, situated in the 
upper section of Harford County, present to the lover of natural scenery a 
combination of attractions that nature, in her munificence, seldom deigns 
to lavish on her fair domains. The Rocks are several hundred feet in 
height, extending to a point that projects in solemn grandeur over huge 
masses of rock that lie scattered at their base." Having described the 
beauty of the adjacent landscape, she continues: "But the Rocks, apart 
from the lovely landscape that spreads around us, are ever the scene that 
must enchant the gaze, and infuse into the heart of nature's votary a 
mingled feeling of admiration and awe." She concludes: "The image of the 
scene is impressed upon the soul, and in the secret chamber of our being 
often will we view over again the Rocks of Deer Creek."

The next selection is a poem, written by a young lady of Long Island, New 
York. We give only the stanzas which describe the "King and Queen Seats:"

"In ages past, so runs a legend old,
These rocks were the wild home of warriors bold;
Here they in council met, and warfare planned,
Talked o'er the mighty secrets of their dusky band;
I fancy how the echoes have rung out,
The noisy clamor of their war-cry shout.
Long years have passed away, the red man's tread

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No longer echoes there; the wild, fierce tribe is dead,
And nought remains but memories alone,
And two rough seats hewn from the solid stone.

"These were the lofty thrones of King and Queen,
Spread now with moss and trailing vines of green;
We rested in their depths, and pictured rare
Visions of Indian beauties, wild yet fair;
All still and silent now, only the breeze
Comes whispering soft sweet stories through the trees,
And echoes only waken to the words
Of untold beauty in the songs of birds,
Those clearest, bell-like tones that float and ring,
Pronounce the mocking bird the woodland king."

The following was written by a lady, a native of, and now resident in, 
Harford:

Rocks of Deer Creek, I, a pilgrim,
Wander up thy mountain side,
And beneath thy lofty summits
Watch the sparkling waters glide.

Here upon this pile of ages,
Where the Red Man's flight was stayed,
I, in contemplation solemn,
View the mighty work displayed.

Think of Him who, out of chaos,
Called this great mysterious world,
With its mountains, vales and waters,
Like a picture fair unfurl'd.

Piled this mighty, rocky structure,
Like some castle, grim and gray,
Sublime--mysterious--wrote upon it,
A monument without decay.

List! methinks I hear "the voices
Of the hills" that round me lie,
For one grand and solemn anthem
Seemeth filling earth and sky.

And self is lost--forgotten e'en--
As I list the soft refrain;
Surely God, the builder of you,
Reigns upon this height supreme.

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Misty clouds are upward rising,
Like pure incense, to the sky,
Peace-offerings from the waters
On this rock-bound mountain high.

Surely in this solemn grandeur,
On this temple most sublime,
More ancient than the pyramids
Of old, in eastern clime,

Man must see and feel a power,
Great--beyond our mortal ken;--
Rocks of Deer Creek, veil'd in mystery,
You must ever more remain.

Mary Warner Ross.
Sandy Hook, 1879.

That which follows are the meditations of one who discovers, in the 
vicinity of the Rocks, a sin-gular fern. He is evidently in a 
philosophical mood, and has been disturbed, it may be, by the rash 
speculations of some modern scientists so-called.

A Remarkable Fern.

Strolling one day of the past autumn along Deer Creek, in the vicinity of 
the Rocks, I was attracted by a species of fern with which I was not 
familiar. Upon examining it minutely, I found, to my surprise, and I must 
confess to my gratification, written upon the stem and each leaf of the 
fern the word Biogenesis: life from life, and from nothing but life. And 
recollecting that Sir William Thompson, President of the British 
Association for the Advancement of Science, in an address to the Society, 
incidentally refers to the theory of Biogenesis and its opposite theory, 
Abiogenesis (spontaneous

Page 110

generation), I sought that address, and found the following statement 
therein:

"I am ready to adopt as an article of scientific faith, true through all 
space and through all time, that life proceeds from life, and from nothing 
but life." I am not aware that Sir William had ever seen a specimen of the 
singular Deer Creek fern, or ever heard of it; but one cannot fail to note 
the agreement between the teaching of the fern and that of the 
distinguished President of the British Association. Anxious to know what 
that other distinguished member of the same Association, Professor Huxley, 
might have to say upon Biogenesis and its antagonistic theory, 
Abiogenesis, I turned to an inaugural address delivered by him to the 
British Association, in which Professor Huxley concedes that "the 
evidence, direct and indirect, in favor of Biogenesis: life from life, and 
from nothing but life, for all known forms of life, must be admitted to be 
of great weight." This utterance of the great inductive philosopher gave 
me great pleasure, as it seems to confirm the suspicion that possibly the 
Creator of all things wrote upon my fern the word Biogenesis: life from 
life, and from nothing but life. My satisfaction with this declaration of 
the philosopher would have been complete, had he not to this just 
admission, as I thought it to be, added: "But though I cannot express this 
conviction of mine too strongly, I must carefully guard myself against the 
supposition that I intend to suggest that no such thing as Abiogenesis 
(spontaneous generation) has ever taken place in the past, or will take 
place in the future. If it were given me to look beyond the abyss of 
geologically recorded time to

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the still more remote period when the earth was passing through physical 
and chemical conditions, which it can no more see again than a man can 
recall his infancy, I should expect to be a witness of the evolution of 
living protoplasm from unliving matter." I was now in a quandary. When 
doctors disagree, who shall decide? And what estimate can I have of the 
veracity of my fern? Singularly, the philosopher whose just quoted 
utterance had tended to overthrow my cherished theory of life, and brand 
as false the teaching of the fern, comes to my relief. The philosopher 
does not account for life without a metaphysical cause. Hear him: "I, 
individually, am no materialist, but, on the contrary, believe materialism 
to involve grave philosophical error." His materialism is only a trick of 
logic; his faith is that all life has a transcendental, metaphysical 
cause. He vindicates the truthfulness of my fern.

The question is, where did my fern get its life? Who wrote upon its stem 
and leaves Biogenesis? My fern was sustained by inorganic substances. From 
such substances it extracted the nutriment of its life by a chemistry 
peculiar to itself. But whence its life? It cannot be that life is a 
phenomenon, evolved from the forces of unliving matter. Science does not 
say so. Matter is a basis of life; in it life manifests itself, and 
nothing more. Life, like matter in which it dwells, was created, not 
evolved from unliving forces. The life of my fern came from abroad. Its 
cause was the only cause, ultimate, spontaneous will. The Author of all 
life gave it life, and wrote upon its leaves Biogenesis.

My fern is perishing. Is this not singular? Strange that the living forces 
which built it up

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should now, that its vitality is gone, tear down the structure which they, 
with so much pains, constructed. The vital principle in my fern did for a 
time hold in abeyance the physical forces, but this having departed, its 
enemies triumph. My fern is returning to unliving dust. Whether it, 
Phoenix-like, will arise from its ashes, I do not know. And if its 
unliving dust should become the basis of other life, whether it will be 
the life of another fern, I do not know. Of this I am confident, if it 
shall be the basis of another life, upon that creation, be it rose or 
magnolia or fern, will be written Biogenesis: life from life, and from 
nothing but life.

If any of my curious friends would see a specimen of the Deer Creek fern, 
they can do so by searching the hills between Preston's Mill and the Rocks 
of Deer Creek.

The Old Mill.

Opposite Mingo Hill, on the waters of Deer Creek, a few miles above the 
Rocks, is a quaint old mill. Of this ancient mill a poetess writes:

"Softly dim twilight lingers
O'er the picturesque mill,
Night, with her purple fingers,
Is draping each noble hill
With the shadows she loves to muster,
And waft in the twilight down,
Faintly outlined with the lustre
Which streams from his starry crown.
Beautiful shadows that fall so still
And nestle down on the silent mill.

"Silent, for now the throbbing
Heart of the mill's at rest,
And only the breezes are sobbing
O'er the water's breast;

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Its ripples' musical splashing
Seem crowning a dreamy song,
As o'er the high dam dashing,
They hurry so swiftly along.
Laughing waters that scorn to feel
The ponderous weight of the old mill wheel.

"We sit in the night's dark splendor
And list to the whippoorwill,
Breathing in accents tender
Its moan o'er the night-wrapped mill,
And watch how the shadows linger
O'er the tree-topped hill on high,
Till each waving branch seems a finger
Writing against the sky.
And the spirit of night has awakened
The fairies that surely dwell,
In the quiet depths of the woodland
In some fair little hidden dell;
For the fire-flies twinkle their lights afar
Till each fairy lamp seems a tiny star.

"Brightly the summer dawning
Gleams o'er the quiet mill,
And scattered far by the morning
The shadows lift from the hill;
And the sunbeam's golden splendor
Pours o'er the dewy earth,
While the birdlings' voices tender
Thrill with sweetest mirth.
A morning concert given us free
Echoing sweet the softest melody.

"How lightly the water dances,
How sparkles its crystal breast,
As each arrow of sunlight glances
In quivering, gay unrest,
And the dewy morning breathing
Tenderly touching now,
Silvery hair enwreathing
An aged though cheerful brow.
For many years that are gone and dead,
The mill has echoed his gentle tread.

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"And long may it echo the paces
of the feet that are walking toward
The golden gates of the city
Leading to home and God.
Respected friend, I will carry
Sweet memories as I roam
Of the picturesque mill in the valley,
And the sweetly embowered home.
With sad regrets my song will fill,
And a fond farewell to the dear old mill."

"Jamaica, Long Island."

What immediately follows are the prophetic declarations of the resident of 
"Shirley, near the Rocks," who may be indebted, in a measure, to the 
scenes amid which he dwells for the strength of his patriotic inspirations 
and impulse. The Highlands of Scotland, the mountains of Wales and 
Switzerland, have ever been inhabited by peoples of patriotic sentiments 
and practically devoted to liberty. The dwellers by the Rocks are not an 
exception. The Eagle, which is the symbol of their country's majesty, 
soars above the summits of their mountains. They watch its lofty flights 
with pride, and aspire to equal eminence in their sentiments and 
aspirations. The lowlands are generally the places of wealth, and luxury, 
and enervation, with which the sentiments of personal independence and 
individual liberty do not usually co-exist.

The prophecy is a portion of a Centennial Address,

Page 115

delivered by the author, July 4th, 1876, in Ward's Woods, not distant 
from, and in view of, the Rocks, and is a legacy to the young men who 
shall be living in 1976; bequeathed to them with the hope that they will 
cherish an ardent love of country, and maintain the principles of their 
fathers.



Page 116

A PROPHECY.

The retrospect we have made very naturally suggests the prospect. What 
shall the future of our country be? Who shall forecast its destiny? Have 
we, by the marvelous rapidity of our growth in the hundred years past, 
exhausted our energies, and brought upon ourselves premature old age, 
premonitory of speedy death? Or, are we as Hercules in his cradle, 
possessed of a vitality and force and fertility of resources that shall be 
manifested in achievements that will surpass all that has been seen in the 
past of our history, and surprised the world with their greatness. We are 
in the infancy of our greatness, the beginning of a progress such as has 
not hitherto been seen, and of which the most sanguine could not possibly 
have dreamed. Mankind is standing on the very threshold of a new life, on 
a boundary line, about to launch out into an unknown future. The past is 
gone, the old landmarks are swept away, and fresh armies of thoughts, 
opinions and knowledge are breaking in upon the world. The jungle has been 
cleared, space has been almost annihilated, and the human mind, free from 
embarrassments that have interrupted its progress, is entering upon a 
series of essays and conflicts that shall ultimate in achievements far 
surpassing those of the past, and that shall carry humanity upward to 
higher planes rapidly and majestically. It may be centuries before the new 
life shall be matured. In the very "lisping

Page 117

infancy" of the new life humanity may be, but the child is born, and there 
shall follow the vigor of manhood and the ripeness of age. A sagacious 
thinker and observer has said: "A mighty impulse has come over the world 
lately. A time of looking forward rather than back has set in. Great 
inventions of all kinds are altering the face of the earth, making the 
conditions of life different, and raising the hopes and fears of men. 
Great discoveries are bringing with them all the eager wildness, all the 
enthusiasm for good or evil, that such unsettlements must always bring. 
The vast ocean of knowledge has found its Columbuses, and hearts beat high 
with the daily hope of fresh wonders being unveiled by new voyagers." 
Where, we ask, has this impulse been felt stronger than on this continent 
and with us? Where so much of change, of adventure, of achievement? Where 
in all the earth so much of enthusiasm, of earnest purpose, of 
determination to do all that lies within the range of possibility? There 
are barriers that no human invention can overcome; conditions beyond the 
range of mortal power. But within those great barriers which God has fixed 
to human progress, an almost infinite advance is certain. There are men of 
folly, as was Canute the Great, when he sat by the sea-shore, and said to 
the advancing waters, "So far shalt thou come, and no farther," who in the 
impotency of their reason may prescribe bounds to human progress, but that 
progress, as did the oncoming waves, will mock their folly and weakness. 
This continent, this nation, shall participate in this general onward 
movement, and in a degree exceeding all. The genius of the American people,

Page 118

their inquisitiveness, their steadiness of purpose, their inflexibility of 
will, their inventive qualities, their love of Change, their ambition to 
excel, all point to a destiny of unparalleled grandeur. Our lofty 
mountains, our wide extended plains, our majestic rivers, are symbolic of 
the might and majesty of our coming greatness. Here, upon the shores of 
the Atlantic, on the banks of the Mississippi and the Missouri, and by the 
side of the Pacific, in mountain place and valley, shall be a teeming 
multitude of men building up in their strength a material, intellectual, 
social, spiritual empire, before which all other empires shall pale as the 
glow-worm pales in the presence of the sun. It will be the onward movement 
of thought, and feeling, and faith, and work, widening and deepening, and 
increasing in strength, until mighty in its volume and resistless in its 
force, it shall bear upon its bosom, as the flood bears the oak, all the 
treasures of wisdom and knowledge. This is my thought--it may be the dream 
of an enthusiast.

In one hundred years the population of the United States of America may 
exceed that of China; the area of territory, if extended, may embrace the 
whole of North America, and our progress in all other respects be 
commensurate. Then it will be that those then living will look back upon 
the epoch of the first Centennial as we, who celebrate it to-day, look 
back upon its beginning--as a day of very small things, and, as we do, 
congratulate themselves and the country on the progress made, differing 
from us in this, that their felicitations will be greater--proportionate 
to their increased prosperity. The realization of this hope will depend 
essentially upon

Page 119

one thing--that we remain at peace among ourselves. This unity of the 
nation is the pledge of its perpetuity, and the assurance of its high 
destiny. Not, indeed, that unity which is enforced by strength of will and 
power of bayonet, but unity of sentiment and affection, that unity of mind 
and heart which has its most striking illustrations and exemplifications 
in the virtuous household, each member of which, recognizing the 
significancy of the relation, performs its obligations. The hope is that 
Christianity, in its onward march, will so leaven society with its 
restraining and conserving influences, that human passions will not simply 
be held in check, but will be consecrated to virtuous purposes, the human 
heart responding always and unerringly to truth, and the life to noble aim.

Our fathers sought to erect the superstructure of American government upon 
a substantial basis, intending that in this ark of national safety their 
descendants should be secure when the tempests gathered. The fabric of 
government which they erected was no temporary expedient, to serve the 
wants of a day; it was built, as the pyramids were built, to resist the 
wear of ages, and serve the necessities of generations. Washington, and 
Adams, and Jefferson, and Madison, and Monroe, and all the illustrious 
host of worthies who laid the foundations of American nationality, were 
men not only of wisdom, but of conscience also, having in view, not the 
mere gratification of personal ambition and the aggrandizement of self, 
but the welfare of the whole people and of generations of people. To 
establish this government our ancestors toiled, and sacrificed, and poured 
out their blood, not anticipating

Page 120

that Catalines would ever be found among their descendants, who would 
conspire against the liberties of the people, but hoping and believing 
that they to whom had been bequeathed the precious legacy of American 
freedom, would cherish it as vestal virgins and priests of Inca cherished 
their sacred fires. The gift has so far been generally appreciated, and 
the men of this generation are bearing upon their shoulders the ark which 
contains the sacred things placed therein by the fathers of the republic. 
They cherish it as the ark of the Lord was cherished in the house of Obed 
Edom.

It is not within the power of man to foretell the time when this nation, 
having performed its allotted part in the great drama of the world's life, 
shall follow the peoples that have preceded it, and pass in mournful 
procession to the graves of dead nationalities. The race that forms this 
nation has, as we have seen, been distinguished above all other races for 
its vitality and force, resisting thus far that strong tendency to decay 
that characterized the nations that preceded it. It may follow in the 
footsteps of the nations that have gone before; but if true to itself, if 
it fulfills the destiny which the Divine hand has marked out for it, then 
when its cycle shall have been completed and the record made up, future 
races will look back upon its period as the brightest in human history. 
And that record, the brightest spot in human history, may be the roll of a 
thousand years.

Yea, if the period of the existence of the great nations of antiquity was 
ten centuries, ten times ten centuries may be the cycle of American 
history, the time when its record shall be made up. The sentiment

Page 121

of patriotism existing in such intense force in the bosom of every true 
American would place no limit to his country's life. To-day, moved thereto 
by the enthusiasm kindled by our recollections of the past and our faith 
in the greatness of our country's future, we all with one accord exclaim, 
Our country; may she live forever!

My fellow-citizens, we congratulate ourselves that we have lived to 
celebrate the Centennial. In honoring this day we do justice to the memory 
of our fathers who bequeathed to us our heritage--to their intelligence, 
their virtue, their bravery, their fortitude, their spirit of self-
sacrifice. They have gone to their graves, and the worthiest monuments 
that we can erect to perpetuate their memories are the appreciation of 
their virtues and the imitation of their examples.

Fellow-citizens, we shall not live to celebrate another Centennial. Ere 
the coming century of our national existence shall have closed we will 
have passed away--been gathered to our fathers; but we shall leave a 
heritage worthy to be preserved by our posterity, and by them transmitted 
to the generations following.



Page 122

MASON AND DIXON'S LINE.

A few miles north of the Rocks of Deer Creek, in latitude 39 degrees, 43 
minutes, 26 /103 seconds, is the boundary between the States of 
Pennsylvania and Maryland. This line was begun in December, 1763, and 
concluded in the end of the year 1767. Its whole length is 244 miles, not 
all of which was laid out by the scientific gentlemen after whom it is 
called. They were prevented by fears of hostile Indians from proceeding 
further than Sideling Hill, a distance of 116 miles from the place of 
beginning. At the termination of every fifth mile is planted a large 
stone, having on one side the coat of arms of William Penn, and on the 
other or southern side, the Escutcheon of Lord Baltimore, the 
proprietaries respectively of the provinces of Maryland and Pennsylvania. 
Every mile is a smaller stone with the letter P on one side and M on the 
other. All these stones were brought from England. This line was fixed 
after eighty years of constant discussion, and thus was lost to Maryland 
much fertile territory. It was not surveyed in the ordinary mode, but 
established by mathematical and astronomical calculation. A survey was had 
in 1844, and the original line was found to be substantially correct.



Page 123

A LITERARY CURIOSITY.

In the year 1661, the Rev. John Eliot, "the Apostle to the Indians," 
translated the Virginian Bible into the language of the New England 
Indians. The following specimen exhibits the Lord's Prayer (Matt. vi: 9--
13):

9. Yowutche yeu nuppenantamook: Nooshun kesukqut quttianatamunach 
knowesuonk. 
10. Peaumooutch kukketassootamdonk, kuttenautamoouk nennach ohkeit neane 
kesukqut. 
11. Nummeetsuonqash asekesukokish assamaiinean yeuyea kesuked. 
12. Kah ahquontamaiinean nummatchseonqash, neane matcheneukgueagig 
nutahquontamounnanog. 
13. Ahque sagkompagunaiinnean en qutchhuaonganit, webepohquohwussinean 
wutch matchitut. Newutche kutahtaun ketassootamoonk, kah menuhkesuonk, kah 
sohsumoonk micheme. Amen.