British troops occupied the city, during the Revolution, it was guarded by a band of soldiers. It was held in great veneration, and its sacred wood is yet preserved under the form of ornaments for the parlor table? But, oh! the changes it witnessed! So, too, similar changes belong to the fertile vales and growing towns in our own county, in the 100 years that are past! Could some old Indian chief, who once roamed these hills and drank at the beautiful spring below our town, where old Ft. Loudon stood, revisit this land, he would be completely lost-his mind would be filled with wondrous surprise! So, too, at a later date-from 1790 to 1830-if some of the McCulloughs, Smiths, McFarlands, Bards, McDowels, Crawfords, Dickeys, Pattons, Lanes, Scotts, and others, who lived amid these hills and tilled these lands, could return to earth, oh! how spell-bound with surprise! The old line of "pack horses," traveling with steady step up the rugged steeps of yonder mountain gorge-the Cove Gap-where are they? The old "Conestoga wagons," high and long and deep, with canvas top, that lined this western turnpike, heavy laden with merchants' goods from Baltimore to Pittsburg, where are they? Not one to be seen. The line of "four-horse stages," too, six and eight a day, crowded with Western merchants and others, eagerly bound for the Eastern cities, every hour feeling for their money, hid in the lining of their coat, or in their boots, or some secret place, lest the Robber Lewis and others, who lurked in these hills, would rob both traveler and driver alike-these, alas! all gone! The days of military parade, militia muster-"review days"—with shrill fife and noisy drum, and gaudy soldiers, and galloping troopers-these, too, have all disappeared; together with the gleaming sickle; sowing wheat broadcast; cutting the broad acres with a hand-cradle, four and six in a row; tramping the wheat in the winter months, a six weeks' work; all these have disappeared, and we now have railroad cars, horse-rakes, phosphate grain drills, the sulky plough, the road traction engine, and a dozen or more of other farming implements. But in the school-room and in the school-house, oh! what changes! "Cobb's Spelling Book," with the picture of the boy on the apple tree, pelted with stones by the honest farmer for his first theft; the "New Testament,' with Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, all to the Book of Revelation-this the scholars' "only reader," and then even skipping the hard names-all these have disappeared. So, too, in church building, and in the familiar scenes of the home circle; oh! the changes! The high-backed pews, wine glass pulpit, or as the poet has it "Their pews of unpainted pine, straight-backed and tall; Their gal'ries mounted high, three sides around; Their pulpits, goblet shaped, half up the wall, With sounding board above, with acorn crowned." These are now no more. So, too, the old Franklin stove, the open fire-place, with "brass fender," and back-log burning brightly; "the oaken bucket, the moss-covered bucket, that hung in the well,"—all, all have given place to the "radiant home,' "the gas burner," the "cast iron pump.' Thus, too, instead of the "old lard lamp," and "tallow candle," and "snuffers," you have coal oil, gas and electric light! But, oh the changes in the spheres of human life! The inquiry is, where are the great men who laid out these towns, built these mills and subdued these forests? Echo answers, where? Franklin county, to its credit be it said, has furnished "more men of mark," both in Church and State, for the Judge's bench, the Governor's chair, and Halls of Legislation, than any other part of the State. The greatest railroad king that America ever furnished, Col. Thomas A. Scott, was born in this village, under the shade of these mountains, in yonder "public mansion;" and he who sat in the President's chair, the 15th President, James Buchanan, received the light of day in yonder mountain gorge (Cove Gap); and when a little boy his fond mother placed a "bell around his neck," lest she would lose her Irish boy amid the rocks of the impending forest. But these reminiscences carry us too far. On the 9th of September, 1784, an Act of the Assembly was passed erecting the county of Franklin, out of the southwestern part of Cumberland, thus bearing the name of our own honored natural philosopher, Benjamin Franklin. Its greatest extent from north to south is 38 miles, and from east to west 34 miles, containing an area of 49,740 square miles. In 1870 the population was 45,365. In 1880, 49,855. The greatest part of the county consists of an extensive valley of fertile land, well watered, well cultivated, and highly improved. The product of wheat alone in 1880 was 1,033,824 bushels-other grains, such as rye, oats, Indian corn and barley, in equal proportions. On the east you have the range of hills called the South Mountain, reaching an elevation of 600 to 900 feet. On the west and northwest a more elevated and rugged range, called the North or Blue Mountain, running in almost an unbroken line from the Delaware southwestward and abruptly terminating in Mt. Parnell and Mt. Jordan's Knob. Path Valley lies between these lofty peaks and the Tuscorora Mountain, which stretches southwest, on to the waters of the Potamac. Some of these lofty peaks range from 1,500 to 1,600 feet above the level of the sea. Oh! the grandeur of this mountain scenery-its health-giving power. With the homesick Swiss soldier, when far from his native Alps, we can say, "Geb mir Berge oder Ich Sterbe." The eye of the traveler is never wearied in looking upon the rugged brow of old Parnell and Mt. Jordan, joined together in one perpetual brotherhood of beauty and power, and looking down in quiet majesty upon the peaceful village of Ft. Loudon, nestling quietly amid the shade of these lofty peaks; or, casting our view six miles beyond, over to our neighboring town of Mercersburg, far-famed both in Europe and America for schools of learning and theological power; and then, still farther on toward the south you see Casey's Knob," "Two-top," and the grand and beautiful chain of vast blue mountains on to "Penn-Mar" and the Potomac, forming "one vast amphitheatre" or "crescent" of beauty and mountain scenery hardly eclipsed by any other in the whole State. Strangers never cease to admire the beauty of our mountain homes. Yes, these grand old mountains are the finger-boards of nature that point the weary pilgrim up to heaven-to God-to our eternal home! 66 The purity of air that encircles their top, the green clad plains and fertile vales that lie at their base, the laughing rivulet and the towering oak that dwell upon their haggard sides, all serve to give health and tone to the body, invigorate the mind, and inspire within the breast of man feelings of awe, reverence and devotion! God himself built these lofty hills. He laid them deep; He made them broad; He shaped their conical form, their broad foundations, their haggard sides. He built them for himself, to point upward, to heaven, to our home above! The Saviour loved the mountain. He prayed there; He preached there; He wept there; upon the mountain he died; at its base he was buried; from its top He ascended to heaven! Oh! the mountain! the mountain!! What Christian born in Franklin county but loves the mountain? Especially as these lofty hills remind him of Tabor, Carmel, Lebanon, Pisgah, Calvary, and above all Mt. Zion, the city of the living God, a truthful type of the Christian church! Never can we gaze upon these rugged hills, or travel over their haggard sides, or look upon their lofty peaks, without thinking of the hill-country of Judea, and the mountains of Galilee, consecrated to the holy purposes of our holy religion, by the prayers and tears, and deeds, and awful sufferings and holy blood of our blessed Redeemer ! Yes, "To Zion's hill I lift mine eyes, From thence expecting aid; Who heaven and earth has made." II. But we must take up our second point: Praise and thanksgiving for the moral integrity aud upright, religious life of our pioneer settlers. Living in the midst of such beautiful scenery, dwelling under the shade of such lofty mountains, what else could our fathers be than devout, honest, religious? In Path Valley, tradition has it, a man borrowed a hundred dollars from his neighbor. After the money was paid and the note written his neighbor said : 66 John, you keep this paper too, Then you'll know when the note is due." E The man had both money and note. This story is a noble tribute of praise to primitive virtue, neighborly confidence and Christian love. The character of Enoch Brown, the noble, heroic schoolteacher, murdered by the Indians, with his ten scholars, (one only making his escape,) on the 26th of July, 1764, in Antrim township, three miles from Greencastle, is only a moral type of the good and religious character of our pioneer settlers. This teacher is said "to be a man of liberal culture, particularly noted and respected for his truthfulness, integrity and Christian character." His courage was praiseworthy, as it is said he offered himself first as a martyr, to save the lives of the innocent children. It is to perpetuate the memory of this terrible sacrifice to the cause of freedom and education that our offerings to-day are to be devoted. To erect, at moderate cost, a granite monument to mark the resting place of this noble teacher and his murdered scholars. The first settlers in our county were of Scotch-Irish descent. Religious persecution and a desire for freedom in religious worship drove them from Ireland and Scotland to this Western world. The rich valleys of the Conococheague settlement were objects of interest and attraction. These settlers were moral, honest, religious and devout. The Sabbath was strictly observed. The ten commandments committed to memory; next to the Bible, the shorter catechism was daily studied; grace at the table, and evening and morning prayers, a usual occurrence in their religious life. Many of this noble race and of their descendants still reside in our county, but the German population of a later date is fast gaining the ascendency, both in numbers and in way of possessing homes and lands once occupied by this noble ancestry of the Scotch-Irish race. The Rev. Michael Schatter, a Reformed minister, one of our first missionaries, who came to America in 1746, and who visited Conococheague settlement in 1748, uses these words: "The first inhabitants, as already stated, were from Ireland and Scotland, and a few from Germany and Switzerland. Benjamin Chambers, the first settler, induced others of his countrymen to immigrate to the Conococheague settlement. Soon afterwards some German and Swiss descend |