Samuel H. Lynch, Esq.
READ BEFORE THE WYOMING HISTORICAL AND GEOLOGICAL SOCIETY OCT. 18, 1gOI
This is said to be a world of change, and the saying admits of no argument, and yet we have the hills and mountains and our beautiful river, which have a familiar look to those who remember them as far back as 1830. Still, even the face of nature has changed, and the only nature that remains the same is human nature, particularly the outcrop, by which we follow the different veins as we do of the coal formation. Among the many changes that have taken place is the general use of steam, as the writer looks back to the day when he remembers crossing the Delaware river at Philadelphia in a ferryboat propelled by horse power, and when vessels were mostly moved by the winds in the ocean. When whale oil was used for light, assisted by tallow dips. The use of the astral lamp in which lard oil was burned was considered a great improvement on the former. At a time when all our coal was in great lumps, which were broken up by an old axe which had seen better days, and the boys were the coal breakers. When our coal hods were built of wood, home-made, or any empty nail keg was made to serve the purpose. When every house hoisted the water from a well by a windlass and crank, showing that there were "cranks" as far back as 1830. The water from these wells was of various quality, mostly too hard for Monday's wash day, to obviate which, barrels and hogsheads were used to catch the rain water from the roofs; also utilized to raise mosquitoes until old enough to raise themselves by transformation.

Our town limits were between North and South streets in one direction and "Back street" (Canal), and River street in the other. Northampton street was the outlet to Philadelphia and New York, via "Conners" Hill," "Spring House," "Bear Creek," "Pocono," "Wind Gap," "Easton," etc., by four-horse coaches, capable of carrying nine passengers inside and an extra one on the seat alongside of George Root or Jeff. Swainbank, the famous drivers of that day.
The hills just east of town have been denuded of the charming Oak woods, and where now streets are laid out and fine residences are built was, from a line east from South street and the foot of the hills, covered with what was then called "Ross Woods," running over the hill to what is now the "Empire Mines." In this woods, when a boy, I have caught flying squirrels, and shot, on one occasion, a large owl, and wild pigeons for many a pot-pie. It was a delightful place in which to roam on a warm summer day. By the way, what has become of the pigeons which in the spring and fall of the olden time were in such large flocks, stretching often, in extent, across our valley from one mountain to the other, thousands not to say millions of them, and now and for several years there is not one to be seen anywhere. Can anyone tell ?
The ground below South street was farm land. Daniel White's wheelwright shop, on the lower side of South street, faced directly up Franklin street, his house was just to the right of his shop. There were a few houses on Main street some distance down, particularly the "Dana house," in front of which, in the road, was a large Oak tree, from which the races started, frequent in those days between " Porter's Colt," ridden by "Bart. Wolle" (the post and rail fence from this Oak tree to South street, three-fourths of a mile, was the place where the lookers on were seated to view the races between the colt) and any other horses that dared to compete with him, "Black Hawk" being one of them. These races took place in the summer, when the road was dry, as at other times the mud was hub-deep and wagons sometimes had to be pried up with levers to get them started when stalled in the mire. At the corner of Academy street and Carey avenue there was an old house of one story in which the Keck family lived, and where Henry, the son, shot and killed his father; he was tried and convicted of murder in the first degree by the jury, before Judge Scott. Shultz was governor of the state and pardoned Keck, which so enraged the people that they hung Governor Shultz in effigy on the Public Square.

The only coal mined in the valley for shipment was from the Butler mines, afterwards Baltimore Coal Company, in lump, which was hauled in wagons to the river bank just above Union street, and piled there to await a rise in the river. Then it was loaded in arks and started for a market, and wrecked frequently on the way in the "Conewango Falls" below Columbia, Pa.
The customs and habits of the people have also changed greatly since that day. The population was about 1,200, and we seldom met strangers or those we did not know at least by sight. Houses were of frame, two stories in height, and the style of living much plainer than now. "Bootblacks" were unknown, and seldom were boots and shoes seen with a shine on them, except on the Sabbath with church goers. People ate with a knife and fork, the knife plain steel or iron with a bone or horn handle, and two tined iron forks, and some people were fat notwithstanding. This fact brings to mind a foot race across the river bridge, on one occasion, between two of the most corpulent of that day, in which one of the two was unfortunate in falling upon his swell front, and rocking like a rocking chair until he was assisted to rise, and of course lost the race.
At the present site of the "Sterling Hotel" there was a tavern kept by a very fat old fellow named Richardson, and
it was said that in the summer he lived in the cellar of his house to prevent his running to grease. I don't vouch for the truth of this story, but that was common talk in those days. On the east side of the town there was a large swamp, extending from what is now South Wilkes-Barre to North street, and from the base of the hill to Canal street. This street took its name from the canal after the canal was built, early in the thirties (previous to that time it was called "Back street"), the name following even around into and through Union street. Washington street was not laid out pr opened until some years afterwards, and in its course ran through the old burying ground on its western side.
There were no pavements in those days; coal ashes were used to improve the walks, and many people dumped all their coal ashes on the sidewalks or street, whichever was most convenient, and when they wanted a crossing from one side to the other they made it of coal ashes, which had to be frequently renewed as the mud swallowed it up. I remember very well crawling sideways along the rails of Isaac Bowman's garden fence, on Market street, near the square, to keep out of the mire when on my way to the Academy school. There were no lights in the streets of a public character. All the light pedestrians had on the business streets at night came from the stores up to 9 o'clock p. M., when they usually were closed. Of course, the old punctured tin lanterns were in use to enlighten the path of those persons who were fortunate enough to possess one
Most of the houses had gardens attached, which added much to the comfort of the residents, giving them fresh vegetables during the summer. Unfortunately, cows were in general use, and would often walk into these gardens and help themselves; and many of these cows, by practice, would open the gates with their horns, as they were allowed the largest liberty in roaming about at their own sweet will, the river common being their pasture ground. "Old Michael" was the only hindrance they had, as servitor of the peace, and woe to the bovines that trespassed in the churchyards committed to his care, although, sometimes his "whoa!" "whoa!" made them laugh in their sleeves, if they had any, and gave the old fellow a lively chase, around and around the church. They would pass the open gate. Like Gilpin's horse, they had no inclination to tarry, or to go out the gate into the street, as he wanted them to do. Finally, the old man built a pen or pound on the river bank near his residence in the Arndt store, opposite Mr. Darling's house, and the worthy borough council took the matter in hand and passed an ordinance authorizing Michael, in his official capacity as "high constable," to empound all stray cattle found roaming the streets. In performing this duty he also took in drunken men in his wheelbarrow, and dumped them among the pigs, cows, etc., to sleep off their drunken stupor.

"Michael" had, also, a hay scale at his abode, the only one in the town and, as the manner of weighing was very primitive, it may be well to try and describe it. Chains were let down from the "overshoot" at the roof of the old store house, which were attached to the wagon, and the whole load of hay and wagon was lifted clear of the ground and the gross weight taken on a large steelyard inside the building, the wagon, after unloading, returning and being weighed in the same way, thus getting the net weight of the hay. For this service "Michael" charged ten cents. While we are at the "Arndt" store house, upon the outer edge of the river bank, we are reminded that "Arndt's Tavern," as it was called, stood directly opposite, upon the present site of the Darling residence.
This man John P. Arndt was an active, stirring business man, as he, previous to the time of which we are writing, kept a store as well as a house of entertainment. The French refugees stopped at his house. The store was attached to the tavern on the upper or northerly side. At one time he actually built a sloop of 12 tons, on the river side, and successfully launched it in 1803. It was named the "John Franklin," and reached tide water in safety, which so encouraged the people that they formed a stock company and our river common was to be a great ship yard. The first ship was built and in April, 1812, was launched and christened "The Luzerne, of Wilkes-Barre," Captain, Chapman ; a man named Mack was the builder. She was wrecked and destroyed in the falls of the Conawago, near Middletown, and thus ended the first and last lesson in ship building at the time of which we write, 1830. Thomas Morgan was proprietor of the Arndt house, as Mr. Arndt had removed from this place, where his enterprises had so signally failed, and Mr. Morgan kept the store-house; he also was engaged in the milling business, in the mill just below town, called "Petty's Mill."

It was the custom at that time to send a messenger to awake the passengers travelling by stage, as the stage started in the early morning hours. The post office was in a small building on Market street, near where "Ben Dilley's" place now stands, and Andrew Beaumont was the post master. After driving there and getting the mail bags, the passengers would be called for at the different houses about town, their trunks piled in the boot, and secured by a leather cover, securely strapped down, and then away out Northampton street for a long two days' drive over the mountains to Philadelphia and New York. The first change from this route was over the Hazleton road to Pottsville, where, after staying over night and taking the Philadelphia & Pottsville railroad, you would get into Philadelphia early in the afternoon. The next change was via Tamaqua, where you had dinner, thence by way of the little Schuylkill railroad to Port Clinton and thence via the Philadelphia & Pottsville railroad to Philadelphia, going through in one day, which was considered a great improvement.

The Lehigh Navigation Co. made their railway connection between White Haven and Wilkes-Barre, via the "inclined planes," in 1843, the depot being at South street, and passengers could take the car there, drawn by horse-power to the foot of the planes, thence by steam power to the "slack water" at White Haven, and so on by packet boat to Mauch Chunk. The opening of this road of twenty miles was attended with a great celebration. The cannon was fired and the people gathered in crowds to see and partake of this first ride, by rail, out of our valley. The writer was one of the number who went over the route at the first opening of the same. The "Wyoming Band," under Professor George S. Tutton, made the music on the occasion.
The stores at that time kept a general stock of all kinds of goods necessary for use: dry goods, groceries, hardware, queens-ware, etc. Cloth was purchased for coats, trousers, vests, etc., and all the trimmings taken to the tailors and made up. Dresses for the ladies in the same way, and all goods sold were expected to be carried away by the purchaser, whether potatoes, oats, corn, clover seed, molasses, vinegar, or finer goods. On one occasion a young man purchased a ham and asked the clerk if it could be sent to his house. The proprietor of the store, the wealthiest man in the place, hearing his request, answered quickly, "Yes, sir," and at once taking it up followed the young man to his residence and deposited it in the kitchen, a lesson not soon forgotten by the dude. Salt and plaster came down the river in arks and were also sold by the merchants; money was not plentiful and most of the business was barter or exchange, the farmers bringing their produce and trading it out at the stores. The clerks were at their work as soon as it was light, took down the shutters, swept out and had everything in order before the manager arrived.
During the day, very often, a farmer would drive up with a load of wheat, rye, or corn, in bags of three bushels each, and if a bargain was struck, the clerk would take down the store-house key and proceed with the wagon to the store-house, and carry on his shoulders the bags of grain into the building and often upstairs into the second story and deposit the load into the bins prepared for that purpose. The stores were open until "Old Michael" rang the bell of the "Old Ship Zion," on the Public Square, which was the signal for closing stores, provided there were no customers at that hour, nine o'clock p. M. Then the shutters were adjusted to the doors and windows and everything made snug for the night. At the ringing of this curfew people timed their visits and retired, as it was the signal of shutting up. After ringing the bell, Michael, faithfully for many years, tolled the day of the month for fear people might forget it, and maybe have their notes protested the next day.

It is difficult to think or write of this time, in the years gone bye, without "Old Michael" being the principal character in it, as he certainly was. Never idle, always going about doing good to some one, without hope of pay or reward. He took the town under his care and took good care of it, too. A very little man with a great big heart. If he saw a picket loose, or torn off a fence, he would bring his hammer and nails and repair the breach; with his snow- plough, made by himself, and a horse borrowed of someone, he would clear the sidewalks of the deep snow, more common in those days than now, before most people were up in the morning. He faithfully rang the bell on the old church on the Square for schools during the week, at 9 o'clock and 2 o'clock, and for the churches on Sunday, and the curfew at 9 o'clock at night, as before mentioned. He had charge of the churches, as sexton, and took care of the boys in the galleries. He buried the dead, that is, he prepared the grave, tolled the bell, by a substitute, stood bye during the burial, dropped the symbol of "dust to dust," "ashes to ashes," at the proper moment, and when the bye
it was said that in the summer he lived in the cellar of his house to prevent his running to grease. I don't vouch for the truth of this story, but that was common talk in those days. On the east side of the town there was a large swamp, extending from what is now South Wilkes-Barre to North street, and from the base of the hill to Canal street. This street took its name from the canal after the canal was built, early in the thirties (previous to that time it was called "Back street"), the name following even around into and through Union street. Washington street was not laid out pr opened until some years afterwards, and in its course ran through the old burying ground on its western side.
There were no pavements in those days; coal ashes were used to improve the walks, and many people dumped all their coal ashes on the sidewalks or street, whichever was most convenient, and when they wanted a crossing from one side to the other they made it of coal ashes, which had to be frequently renewed as the mud swallowed it up. I remember very well crawling sideways along the rails of Isaac Bowman's garden fence, on Market street, near the square, to keep out of the mire when on my way to the Academy school. There were no lights in the streets of a public character. All the light pedestrians had on the business streets at night came from the stores up to 9 o'clock p. M., when they usually were closed. Of course, the old punctured tin lanterns were in use to enlighten the path of those persons who were fortunate enough to possess one
Most of the houses had gardens attached, which added much to the comfort of the residents, giving them fresh vegetables during the summer. Unfortunately, cows were in general use, and would often walk into these gardens and help themselves; and many of these cows, by practice, would open the gates with their horns, as they were allowed the largest liberty in roaming about at their own sweet will, the river common being their pasture ground. "Old Michael" was the only hindrance they had, as servitor of the peace, and woe to the bovines that trespassed in the churchyards committed to his care, although, sometimes his "whoa!" "whoa!" made them laugh in their sleeves, if they had any, and gave the old fellow a lively chase, around and around the church. They would pass the open gate. Like Gilpin's horse, they had no inclination to tarry, or to go out the gate into the street, as he wanted them to do. Finally, the old man built a pen or pound on the river bank near his residence in the Arndt store, opposite Mr. Darling's house, and the worthy borough council took the matter in hand and passed an ordinance authorizing Michael, in his official capacity as "high constable," to empound all stray cattle found roaming the streets. In performing this duty he also took in drunken men in his wheelbarrow, and dumped them among the pigs, cows, etc., to sleep off their drunken stupor.

"Michael" had, also, a hay scale at his abode, the only one in the town and, as the manner of weighing was very primitive, it may be well to try and describe it. Chains were let down from the "overshoot" at the roof of the old store house, which were attached to the wagon, and the whole load of hay and wagon was lifted clear of the ground and the gross weight taken on a large steelyard inside the building, the wagon, after unloading, returning and being weighed in the same way, thus getting the net weight of the hay. For this service "Michael" charged ten cents. While we are at the "Arndt" store house, upon the outer edge of the river bank, we are reminded that "Arndt's Tavern," as it was called, stood directly opposite, upon the present site of the Darling residence.
This man John P. Arndt was an active, stirring business man, as he, previous to the time of which we are writing, kept a store as well as a house of entertainment. The French refugees stopped at his house. The store was attached to the tavern on the upper or northerly side. At one time he actually built a sloop of 12 tons, on the river side, and successfully launched it in 1803. It was named the "John Franklin," and reached tide water in safety, which so encouraged the people that they formed a stock company and our river common was to be a great ship yard. The first ship was built and in April, 1812, was launched and christened "The Luzerne, of Wilkes-Barre," Captain, Chapman ; a man named Mack was the builder. She was wrecked and destroyed in the falls of the Conawago, near Middletown, and thus ended the first and last lesson in ship building at the time of which we write, 1830. Thomas Morgan was proprietor of the Arndt house, as Mr. Arndt had removed from this place, where his enterprises had so signally failed, and Mr. Morgan kept the store-house; he also was engaged in the milling business, in the mill just below town, called "Petty's Mill."

It was the custom at that time to send a messenger to awake the passengers travelling by stage, as the stage started in the early morning hours. The post office was in a small building on Market street, near where "Ben Dilley's" place now stands, and Andrew Beaumont was the post master. After driving there and getting the mail bags, the passengers would be called for at the different houses about town, their trunks piled in the boot, and secured by a leather cover, securely strapped down, and then away out Northampton street for a long two days' drive over the mountains to Philadelphia and New York. The first change from this route was over the Hazleton road to Pottsville, where, after staying over night and taking the Philadelphia & Pottsville railroad, you would get into Philadelphia early in the afternoon. The next change was via Tamaqua, where you had dinner, thence by way of the little Schuylkill railroad to Port Clinton and thence via the Philadelphia & Pottsville railroad to Philadelphia, going through in one day, which was considered a great improvement.

The Lehigh Navigation Co. made their railway connection between White Haven and Wilkes-Barre, via the "inclined planes," in 1843, the depot being at South street, and passengers could take the car there, drawn by horse-power to the foot of the planes, thence by steam power to the "slack water" at White Haven, and so on by packet boat to Mauch Chunk. The opening of this road of twenty miles was attended with a great celebration. The cannon was fired and the people gathered in crowds to see and partake of this first ride, by rail, out of our valley. The writer was one of the number who went over the route at the first opening of the same. The "Wyoming Band," under Professor George S. Tutton, made the music on the occasion.
The stores at that time kept a general stock of all kinds of goods necessary for use: dry goods, groceries, hardware, queens-ware, etc. Cloth was purchased for coats, trousers, vests, etc., and all the trimmings taken to the tailors and made up. Dresses for the ladies in the same way, and all goods sold were expected to be carried away by the purchaser, whether potatoes, oats, corn, clover seed, molasses, vinegar, or finer goods. On one occasion a young man purchased a ham and asked the clerk if it could be sent to his house. The proprietor of the store, the wealthiest man in the place, hearing his request, answered quickly, "Yes, sir," and at once taking it up followed the young man to his residence and deposited it in the kitchen, a lesson not soon forgotten by the dude. Salt and plaster came down the river in arks and were also sold by the merchants; money was not plentiful and most of the business was barter or exchange, the farmers bringing their produce and trading it out at the stores. The clerks were at their work as soon as it was light, took down the shutters, swept out and had everything in order before the manager arrived.
During the day, very often, a farmer would drive up with a load of wheat, rye, or corn, in bags of three bushels each, and if a bargain was struck, the clerk would take down the store-house key and proceed with the wagon to the store-house, and carry on his shoulders the bags of grain into the building and often upstairs into the second story and deposit the load into the bins prepared for that purpose. The stores were open until "Old Michael" rang the bell of the "Old Ship Zion," on the Public Square, which was the signal for closing stores, provided there were no customers at that hour, nine o'clock p. M. Then the shutters were adjusted to the doors and windows and everything made snug for the night. At the ringing of this curfew people timed their visits and retired, as it was the signal of shutting up. After ringing the bell, Michael, faithfully for many years, tolled the day of the month for fear people might forget it, and maybe have their notes protested the next day.

It is difficult to think or write of this time, in the years gone bye, without "Old Michael" being the principal character in it, as he certainly was. Never idle, always going about doing good to some one, without hope of pay or reward. He took the town under his care and took good care of it, too. A very little man with a great big heart. If he saw a picket loose, or torn off a fence, he would bring his hammer and nails and repair the breach; with his snow- plough, made by himself, and a horse borrowed of someone, he would clear the sidewalks of the deep snow, more common in those days than now, before most people were up in the morning. He faithfully rang the bell on the old church on the Square for schools during the week, at 9 o'clock and 2 o'clock, and for the churches on Sunday, and the curfew at 9 o'clock at night, as before mentioned. He had charge of the churches, as sexton, and took care of the boys in the galleries. He buried the dead, that is, he prepared the grave, tolled the bell, by a substitute, stood bye during the burial, dropped the symbol of "dust to dust," "ashes to ashes," at the proper moment, and when the bye
it was said that in the summer he lived in the cellar of his house to prevent his running to grease. I don't vouch for the truth of this story, but that was common talk in those days. On the east side of the town there was a large swamp, extending from what is now South Wilkes-Barre to North street, and from the base of the hill to Canal street. This street took its name from the canal after the canal was built, early in the thirties (previous to that time it was called "Back street"), the name following even around into and through Union street. Washington street was not laid out pr opened until some years afterwards, and in its course ran through the old burying ground on its western side.
There were no pavements in those days; coal ashes were used to improve the walks, and many people dumped all their coal ashes on the sidewalks or street, whichever was most convenient, and when they wanted a crossing from one side to the other they made it of coal ashes, which had to be frequently renewed as the mud swallowed it up. I remember very well crawling sideways along the rails of Isaac Bowman's garden fence, on Market street, near the square, to keep out of the mire when on my way to the Academy school. There were no lights in the streets of a public character. All the light pedestrians had on the business streets at night came from the stores up to 9 o'clock p. M., when they usually were closed. Of course, the old punctured tin lanterns were in use to enlighten the path of those persons who were fortunate enough to possess one
Most of the houses had gardens attached, which added much to the comfort of the residents, giving them fresh vegetables during the summer. Unfortunately, cows were in general use, and would often walk into these gardens and help themselves; and many of these cows, by practice, would open the gates with their horns, as they were allowed the largest liberty in roaming about at their own sweet will, the river common being their pasture ground. "Old Michael" was the only hindrance they had, as servitor of the peace, and woe to the bovines that trespassed in the churchyards committed to his care, although, sometimes his "whoa!" "whoa!" made them laugh in their sleeves, if they had any, and gave the old fellow a lively chase, around and around the church. They would pass the open gate. Like Gilpin's horse, they had no inclination to tarry, or to go out the gate into the street, as he wanted them to do. Finally, the old man built a pen or pound on the river bank near his residence in the Arndt store, opposite Mr. Darling's house, and the worthy borough council took the matter in hand and passed an ordinance authorizing Michael, in his official capacity as "high constable," to empound all stray cattle found roaming the streets. In performing this duty he also took in drunken men in his wheelbarrow, and dumped them among the pigs, cows, etc., to sleep off their drunken stupor.

"Michael" had, also, a hay scale at his abode, the only one in the town and, as the manner of weighing was very primitive, it may be well to try and describe it. Chains were let down from the "overshoot" at the roof of the old store house, which were attached to the wagon, and the whole load of hay and wagon was lifted clear of the ground and the gross weight taken on a large steelyard inside the building, the wagon, after unloading, returning and being weighed in the same way, thus getting the net weight of the hay. For this service "Michael" charged ten cents. While we are at the "Arndt" store house, upon the outer edge of the river bank, we are reminded that "Arndt's Tavern," as it was called, stood directly opposite, upon the present site of the Darling residence.
This man John P. Arndt was an active, stirring business man, as he, previous to the time of which we are writing, kept a store as well as a house of entertainment. The French refugees stopped at his house. The store was attached to the tavern on the upper or northerly side. At one time he actually built a sloop of 12 tons, on the river side, and successfully launched it in 1803. It was named the "John Franklin," and reached tide water in safety, which so encouraged the people that they formed a stock company and our river common was to be a great ship yard. The first ship was built and in April, 1812, was launched and christened "The Luzerne, of Wilkes-Barre," Captain, Chapman ; a man named Mack was the builder. She was wrecked and destroyed in the falls of the Conawago, near Middletown, and thus ended the first and last lesson in ship building at the time of which we write, 1830. Thomas Morgan was proprietor of the Arndt house, as Mr. Arndt had removed from this place, where his enterprises had so signally failed, and Mr. Morgan kept the store-house; he also was engaged in the milling business, in the mill just below town, called "Petty's Mill."

It was the custom at that time to send a messenger to awake the passengers travelling by stage, as the stage started in the early morning hours. The post office was in a small building on Market street, near where "Ben Dilley's" place now stands, and Andrew Beaumont was the post master. After driving there and getting the mail bags, the passengers would be called for at the different houses about town, their trunks piled in the boot, and secured by a leather cover, securely strapped down, and then away out Northampton street for a long two days' drive over the mountains to Philadelphia and New York. The first change from this route was over the Hazleton road to Pottsville, where, after staying over night and taking the Philadelphia & Pottsville railroad, you would get into Philadelphia early in the afternoon. The next change was via Tamaqua, where you had dinner, thence by way of the little Schuylkill railroad to Port Clinton and thence via the Philadelphia & Pottsville railroad to Philadelphia, going through in one day, which was considered a great improvement.

The Lehigh Navigation Co. made their railway connection between White Haven and Wilkes-Barre, via the "inclined planes," in 1843, the depot being at South street, and passengers could take the car there, drawn by horse-power to the foot of the planes, thence by steam power to the "slack water" at White Haven, and so on by packet boat to Mauch Chunk. The opening of this road of twenty miles was attended with a great celebration. The cannon was fired and the people gathered in crowds to see and partake of this first ride, by rail, out of our valley. The writer was one of the number who went over the route at the first opening of the same. The "Wyoming Band," under Professor George S. Tutton, made the music on the occasion.
The stores at that time kept a general stock of all kinds of goods necessary for use: dry goods, groceries, hardware, queens-ware, etc. Cloth was purchased for coats, trousers, vests, etc., and all the trimmings taken to the tailors and made up. Dresses for the ladies in the same way, and all goods sold were expected to be carried away by the purchaser, whether potatoes, oats, corn, clover seed, molasses, vinegar, or finer goods. On one occasion a young man purchased a ham and asked the clerk if it could be sent to his house. The proprietor of the store, the wealthiest man in the place, hearing his request, answered quickly, "Yes, sir," and at once taking it up followed the young man to his residence and deposited it in the kitchen, a lesson not soon forgotten by the dude. Salt and plaster came down the river in arks and were also sold by the merchants; money was not plentiful and most of the business was barter or exchange, the farmers bringing their produce and trading it out at the stores. The clerks were at their work as soon as it was light, took down the shutters, swept out and had everything in order before the manager arrived.
During the day, very often, a farmer would drive up with a load of wheat, rye, or corn, in bags of three bushels each, and if a bargain was struck, the clerk would take down the store-house key and proceed with the wagon to the store-house, and carry on his shoulders the bags of grain into the building and often upstairs into the second story and deposit the load into the bins prepared for that purpose. The stores were open until "Old Michael" rang the bell of the "Old Ship Zion," on the Public Square, which was the signal for closing stores, provided there were no customers at that hour, nine o'clock p. M. Then the shutters were adjusted to the doors and windows and everything made snug for the night. At the ringing of this curfew people timed their visits and retired, as it was the signal of shutting up. After ringing the bell, Michael, faithfully for many years, tolled the day of the month for fear people might forget it, and maybe have their notes protested the next day.

It is difficult to think or write of this time, in the years gone bye, without "Old Michael" being the principal character in it, as he certainly was. Never idle, always going about doing good to some one, without hope of pay or reward. He took the town under his care and took good care of it, too. A very little man with a great big heart. If he saw a picket loose, or torn off a fence, he would bring his hammer and nails and repair the breach; with his snow- plough, made by himself, and a horse borrowed of someone, he would clear the sidewalks of the deep snow, more common in those days than now, before most people were up in the morning. He faithfully rang the bell on the old church on the Square for schools during the week, at 9 o'clock and 2 o'clock, and for the churches on Sunday, and the curfew at 9 o'clock at night, as before mentioned. He had charge of the churches, as sexton, and took care of the boys in the galleries. He buried the dead, that is, he prepared the grave, tolled the bell, by a substitute, stood bye during the burial, dropped the symbol of "dust to dust," "ashes to ashes," at the proper moment, and when the bye
standers filled in the grave to a proper amount, I can still hear the old man say: "Dis vill do, shentlemen," and finish the work after the funeral cortege was gone. While on this subject of the burial of the dead, we may say that we had no "hearse" in those days, and the funeral procession walked to the old burial ground, the dead being carried on a bier by relays of carriers.
The Public Square was occupied by four buildings: The Church, with its symmetrical spire, on the westerly side of Main street, facing down that street; the Court House, opposite, facing Main street; the Fire Proof or County Building, of stone, on the easterly corner of Main and Market streets, and the Academy, opposite, on the northerly corner of Market street and Main, both of which passed through the Square, the only obstruction being the market house to the west of the meeting house, and Academy partially, at least, encroaching on Market street.
The "town pump" was also on Market street, east of the market house. This pump was intended to supply water to the "Davy Crockett" hand engine in cases of fire near by. It was usual, in cases of fire, to form two lines of people to the nearest well, and pass water to the engine and return the empty buckets, pails, etc., supplied by the families near at hand. Women, as well as men, turned out and filled these lines, usually—though not always—on the empty bucket side. The engine was a very small affair, the men standing on the ground, on either side, while working it. A larger one was purchased after a time, a second-hand one, called the "Reliance," built by Pat. Lyon, of Philadelphia, a celebrated builder of fire engines. It was a heavy affair, and was manned by eight men at each side, with relays very frequent—by amateurs, as there was no regular fire organization, and as there were no horses, anybody and everybody could man the ropes to and from the fire.
The newspapers of that day were small, compared with those of the present day, but were ably edited by men of intelligence. The Wyoming Herald had for its editors Steuben Butler and Asher Miner. Its motto was: "He comes the herald of a noisy world. News from all nations." It was published in a small building, on the corner of Franklin and Northampton streets, where the house of Doctor Guth- rie now stands, on a "Ramage Press," worked by hand. The ink taken from a flat stone, by buffers, supplied the type form on the press. After printing one-half of the sheet, the types were distributed, and the other half set up and printed. The other papers at that time were the Susquehanna Democrat and the Wyoming Republican; the editor of the former, Samuel R. Maffett, and of the latter (published in Kingston, Pa.) Sharp D. Lewis. These papers changed hands frequently, as well as the political faith of the editors, as the papers were purchased, sometimes by one party, sometimes by another—Federalists, Republicans, Democratic, Anti-Masonic, etc., etc. The papers were weekly, in more senses than one, and subscriptions were paid in country produce, as far as possible, if paid at all, with very little cash. One of these editors put a notice in his paper that he intended to send a boat up the river to collect his subscriptions, and that the potatoes, butter, eggs, hay, straw, &c., should be ready when the boat arrived. This, of course, was sarcasm. The work on the papers, for the diffusion of knowledge, which was gathered slowly and in small amounts, was all done by hard, manual labor; as the type was all set by hand, the ink was applied by hand, and the "lever press" worked by hand, and there was no evidence that the editors ever were known to get rich as the fruits of their labor. The only churches were the church on the Square, which was only completed, after many years of hard struggle, in 1812, and the Episcopal church. Preaching was kept up in private dwellings until 1791, when the log court house was erected on the Public Square, where the public worship was conducted for many years by Rev. Jacob Johnson. This church on the Square was, of course, the united efforts of people of all the different denominations and no denomination, consequently, was occupied by them as they could find the opportunity, which finally resulted in a strife between them as to who had the right to occupy it. The war became at length so severe for possession that the two principal contestants, the Methodists and the Congregationalists, came to a parley, and the latter sold their claim, by the advice of Rev. Nicholas Murray, and left the place where they could never agree. After worshipping in the old academy for a time, they procured a lot where the Osterhout Library now stands and built a frame church of the Corinthean style of architecture. John Darkin was the architect and builder; he was from Norwich, England, bringing his family herein 1830 and occupying the house, now the residence of Dr. G. T. Matlack, on Northampton street. His family consisted of his wife, a very refined, lovely woman, and five boys: Edward, John, Horace, Thomas and Charles. Mr. Darkin was sadly unfortunate. His wife died shortly after reaching here, the frame of the church collapsed as they were about placing the roof-timbers, and the whole structure went down, with the carpenters upon it, into the cellar, and some of them were badly hurt, but none killed. The trustees of the church took the building out of Mr. Darkin's hands and gave the contract to others. This, together with the loss of his wife, broke the last straw, and the old man's only anxiety was to get back to England, which he and his family did, leaving the mother buried in the old burying-ground on Market street.


In 1881, anxious to learn something of these friends of my youth, I wrote a letter and mailed it, directed to the Darkens at Norfolk, England. The result of my effort is well told in the following article from The Colchester Chronicle, Colchester, England, November 15, 1881 :

FROM AMERICA TO COLCHESTER.
LETTER WRITING UNDER DIFFICULTIES.—SINGULAR REVIVAL OF AN OLD FRIENDSHIP.
"Some time ago Mr. Horace Darkin, architect, of Colchester, received a letter dated from Wilkes-Barre, Pa., United States of America, addressed to 'John, Thomas, and Horace Darkin, Norwich, Norfolk, England.' The letter was as follows :—"My dear friends,—I am 'drawing a bow at a venture' to write after so many long years, since last we met, with any hopes of a response, but as we grow in years we find our thoughts are going backwards to the days when we were boys, and we wonder if they are all alive with whom we enjoyed so many happy hours. Where is 'John,' 'Horace,' 'Thomas' Darkin ? We do not ask for their kind father, for we know, in the order of events, he like our own must have passed away; for we—that is, those of us who are living— are now older or as old as they, when we were 'boys together.' The changes are greater here than with you, but there are still some of the old landmarks left, among which is the old house where you lived some 50 years ago. The old graveyard where your mother was buried was vacated, and the bodies removed to a new cemetery. I attended to the removal of your mother, and had her remains re-interred in our new cemetery, and the stone replaced at the head of her grave. It is a beautiful spot, out of the way of all future disturbance. I hope if this finds any of you, you will not fail to answer it at once, and let me know where you are and how you are. As this is an experiment it must necessarily be brief, but I would be much pleased to hear from you and make my next much more interesting. I hope you may be all alive and well. Your old friend and playmate of 50 years ago. To the Darkin boys, all or any of them." His letter, forwarded from Norwich to Colchester, duly reached Mr. Darkin's hands. His delight at the contents was somewhat damped by the omission of the name of his correspondent. A half a century's absence does not usually improve one's recollection of the handwriting of a playmate of boyhood, especially as a boy's circle of friends is somewhat unlimited. Mr. Darkin, however, feeling grateful for the kindness bestowed on his mother's grave, by his anonymous friend, determined to leave no stone unturned to place himself in communication with him, so following the example of his old playmate, he also drew a bow at venture, wrote a reply, and was careful to put his name and address. This letter was directed "To my old Friend and Playmate of 50 years ago, who kindly superintended the re-interment of the remains of Frances Darkin in the new Cemetery at Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, United States of America." This remarkable superscription excited much speculation among the officials at the Post Office, at Wilkes-Barre, as may be imagined, and it soon became the talk of the town. Eventually it got into the "Chit-Chat" column of the local paper, and meeting the eyes of Mr. Darkin's old friend and playmate, brought to h1s recollection the fact that in "drawing his bow at a venture," he had omitted to say who shot the arrow. He went to the Post-office, claimed the letter, and was pleased to find that he was able to enter into a correspondence with an old friend. This correspondence is of an iteresting character, as showing the cordial feeling entertained by Americans towards the Mother Country. The writer says:—"This place has changed very much since the war of the rebellion, and is now a chartered city of over 20,000 ; not very large for an English city you may think, but when you lived here it was a place of five or six hundred. We have now nine banks and as many churches, and there are a great many handsome buildings. Our valley is still celebrated for its beauty, although it is filled with coal works on both sides of the river. There are railroads running in all directions to the seaboard, so that if you were going to New York, as you were the last time I saw you, you would not have to climb the mountain on foot, but would take the street cars or coach to the station. We know every morning what takes place in England and all over the world the day previous, and we talk to each other through the telephone at places within a radius of 20 miles. This country was never more prosperous than it is now, but the terrible shock occasioned by the death of our President by the hands of a dastardly and cowardly assassin has been felt from one end of the land to the other. Every building of a public character and very many of the private houses, were and are still (September 30, 1881, is the date of this) draped in black, and the mourn
ing has been genuine and far spread. From every land came a sympathy hearty and sincere, and your motherly and great hearted Queen has endeared herself more closely in the hearts of our people by her expressions of sympathy and love for the stricken widow, mother, and children of the President. Do you know the Americans love Victoria, and always speak of her with the greatest respect and affection ? And she is a true and noble woman."
To return again to our recollections of Early Wilkes-Barre.
There were, in 1830, four brick buildings in the town: The Hollenback house and store at Market and River streets; The Slocum house on the Square, and the Perry house at Main and Northampton streets—the two latter still standing—and the Allen Jack building on Main street, where "Froenthall building" now is. Poor Allen Jack, an Irishman, lost his life by falling from this building of two stories, while it was in course of erection. He was a merchant, and occupied a building just opposite. The post office was in the "Allen Jack building," in 1832, W. S. Ross, post master. It was removed in 1835, to the shop of Daniel Collings, north side of Public Square, Mr. Collings being the post master.
In the olden times, the circus and the menagarie were separate shows, and not combined, as now. The first "animal show," within the recollection of the writer, was in the lot now occupied by the Laning building on Franklin street, next to Anhiser alley. In the barn-yard of the "Chrystal tavern," on Main street, where the Chrystal block now is, was a circus, where a celebrated bare back rider, named Stickney, and a young rider, the admiration of the boys of that time, named Walter Ayman, were the chief attractions. The river common below Northampton street was the principal ground on which these shows were afterwards held, for several years. This ground was also the manoeuvering ground for the military, and general training day in May, where the "Wyoming Blues," uniformed in white pants and blue coats, and all kinds of hats (civilian suits), and the other companies from Plymouth, Kingston, etc., comprising the regiment, paraded. Under the old militia law, all males of age, under forty-five years, were obliged to turn out, once a year, or pay a fine of one dollar. This was called the "Hayfoot and Strawfoot brigade," and every soldier was armed with a cane, broomstick, old gun or musket, umbrella, or whatever was the most convenient, and not uniformed, but a "rag-tag and bobtail" party, bent on saving their fine, whether their country was saved or not. Lawyers, doctors, scavingers, and all the varieties of human kind, made a motley assemblage, out for a big spree, with a fife and drum and the flag of the Union leading, under an improvised captain, generally the worst looking specimen of the party.

The Wyoming Bank was chartered in 1829, with a capital of $ 150,000, which has never been increased since that time. It began business in a two-story frame building on Franklin street, on the lot now occupied by Dr. L. I. Shoemaker. The house was also the residence of the cashier and his family. The parlor was the banking room. A plain counter and plain desks, as open to the public as a store counter, no cage or protection about it of any kind. The vault was of brick, with a door of boiler iron, and a common tumbler lock. The dining room and table were used in discount days by the directors, on Wednesday mornings at 10 o'clock, as now. The officers were Benjamin Dorrance, president; Edward Lynch, cashier; and Steuben Butler, clerk. The directors were Benjamin Dorrance, William S. Ross, John N. Conyngham, George M. Hollenback, O. Collins, Ziba Bennett, William Swetland, H. Gaylord, James Nesbitt, Steuben Butler, Abraham Thomas and Miller Horton. Mr. Dorrance served as president until 1832, when he resigned and G. M. Hollenback was elected and served until his death, November 1, 1866. William S. Ross elected and served until his death, June I1, 1868. Honorable Ziba Bennett, elected and served until his resignation, in May, 1878 ; succeeded by Colonel Charles Dorrance, until his death, in January, 1892, when George S. Bennett was elected and still holds the office. A branch bank of the Philadelphia Bank was organized in 1810, in the "Ulp Building," on River street, near Northampton, and continued business until 1820. After draining the country of specie they shipped it to the bank in Philadelphia. Ebenezer Bowman was president, and John Bettle, cashier. Another bank was incorporated in 1816, called the Susquehanna Bank, Joseph Sinton, president, but hard times prevented its opening its doors to the public. The Wyoming Bank was removed to River street, adjoining the Hollenback residence in the thirties, and on March 17, 1861, to its present home, on the site of the old Sinton store, corner of Market and Franklin streets.

The old landmark of the olden time "Sinton's store" has a history, and a perfect representation of the same may be seen in the Historical rooms. Jacob and Joseph Sinton were the owners, and served the people for many years with goods, served out with the strictest honesty. As, at that time, the old Spanish currency of sixpences, shillings, quarters, etc., was in use, a sixpence being six and a quarter cents, and a shilling twelve and a-half cents. These honest Quakers made change with pins, cigars, &c., to see that everyone got the honest change, to a quarter of a cent; they would give ladies their half cents in pins or needles, and the men in "half Spanish cigars," two for a cent, or gun flints, perhaps, if they wanted any. In measuring molasses, in the summer, they used a long, wooden knife, made from a shingle, to scrape the tin measure. In winter, when molasses was stiff and not disposed to run, they would tell the customer to come back in half an hour, giving sufficient time for the molasses to make its way through the funnel into the jug or other receptacle, being placed by the stove in the meantime, and then never failing to scrape the measure into the funnel and thus see that none was left behind. The house in which they lived was near by, about where Butler's Book store was, on Market street; a double frame house, close to the street, and their garden extended from there to the alley, towards the river, surrounded by a high board fence. In front was a row of Lombardy Poplar trees, at the outer edge of the sidewalk. This story of their extreme honesty reminds me of a funny incident that is said to have happened at another store, where two brothers, John and Jacob, were in business. John had gone to dinner, a customer with a jug called for a quart of vinegar and Jacob went down into the cellar to draw it and called up to the customer that his jug didn't hold a quart. "Never mind," was the reply, "wait till John comes, he can get it in, he never failed yet." No doubt there were other honest merchants in the town, but none so extreme in their honesty, so far as I can recollect; and, of course, it had an effect on their customers, as children could be sent on errands, to get any small articles, with perfect confidence that they would be honestly served.

It has been said that fashion repeats itself, and, no doubt, some fashions do; but how many of the present generation have ever seen a "calash," or know what it means, although it was very much in use back in the thirties, and a very convenient, handy and handsome article of head dress of the ladies ? It was light in weight, and when the fair sex had their hair dressed, to go a visiting, this "calash" was usually worn to prevent any disarrangement of the same. It was made of a thin material, barege, or something akin to it, sometimes green, sometimes blue, over light hoops, and could be thrown back or brought forward like a buggy or gig top, being tied under the chin. When thrown forward, the face of the wearer could only be seen from a front view. The dress of the man was generally a frock coat, or a swallow tail, with the collar stiff with padding, coming well up under the ears, a large, black silk handkerchief folded neatly and passing round the neck twice and tied in front in a bow knot. It was the fashion to have this handkerchief come out in front, to the end of the chin, and well up under the ears, shirt collars sometimes just showing their points of white above, and very often no collar at all. The ruffle shirt was occasionally seen on men of style. Boots were in general use, and trousers were sometimes worn with straps under the foot, the trousers varying in width, sometimes very wide, at others very tight, as the changes in fashion dictated. Boys' clothing was generally made with tucks at the bottom of the trousers, which were let down as the youngsters grew in stature. There was no ready made clothing in those days; the goods for these were purchased at the stores, together with all the trimmings, and made up at the tailors, or by the family or seamstresses. Hats were usually of fur, or silk, and were of the high order, white or black. Boys and men, too, wore caps much more than now, and common straw hats in summer. A linen blouse with a shirt waist and large sleeves, buttoned at the waist, was quite the rage among the young men at one time for summer wear, and that is one of the styles, like the "calash" of the ladies, that has never returned, since that day. For a correct idea of the ladies' dress, of that time, the writer would respectfully refer the curious to the fashion plates of that date, as he feels himself altogether inadequate to describe it. As the present dress of the ladies is indescribable, how much more so that of half a century ago.