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from the dust and din of the village, stands the venerable Quaker meeting-house, a perishable monument of a race of early settlers that have nearly all passed away. "And where are they gone?" we inquired of an aged Friend, sitting with one or two sisters on the bench under the shade of the tall trees that overhang the meeting-house. Ah," said he, "some are dead, but many are gone to Ohio, and still further west once there was a large meeting here, but now there are but few of us to sit together." Pennsylvania exhibits many similar instances in which the original settlers have yielded to another and more numerous race.

Catawissa was laid out in 1787, by William Hughes, a Quaker from Berks co. Isaiah Hughes kept the first store. Among the earlier pioneers were Wm. Collins, James Watson, John Lloyd, Fenton,

Sharpless, and other Quakers. John Mears, a famous Quaker preacher and physician, a man of great energy of character, afterwards became proprietor of the town by buying up the quit-rents. In 1796, James Watson laid out an addition to the town. Among the Germans, Christian Brobst came about '93, and Geo. Knappenberger had previously taken the ferry. The place was then noted for its shad fishery. John Hauch was one of the first to build a furnace in this region-on Roaring creek, in 1816.

BLOOMSBURG is a large, well-built, and growing town, about nine miles northeast of Danville, and four from Catawissa. Population about 600. It is finely situated on the rising grounds about two miles back from the Susquehanna. The North Branch canal passes between the river and the town. A very extensive trade is carried on here with the fertile valley of Fishing creek. Montour's ridge rises in the rear of the town, and its iron ores at this locality are said to be of superior quality. A furnace on Fishing cr., with other iron works, was commenced by several heavy capitalists within a few years past, and a considerable sum was spent upon it, when the state of the times and the iron market arrested the progress of the works. There is at Bloomsburg a cocoonery in active operation, (1842.) Strenuous efforts have been made to get the county seat removed to this place, but the project was strongly voted down in

the legislature in Feb. 1843. The town contains a German Reformed and Lutheran church, in common; and Episcopal and Methodist churches. The steeple of the German church, which stands on a hill, commands a splendid view of the surrounding scenery. In the cemetery of this church is a monument with the following inscription:

"In memory of Ludwig Eyer, born Jan. 8, 1767, died Sept. 20, 1814, in the 48th year of his age. He left a widow, six sons, and four daughters to deplore his loss. He was proprietor of Bloomsburg, laid out in 1802, and presented this square to the Lutheran and Presbyterian (German) congregations for a church and burying-ground in 1807.”

Mr. Eyer also gave to the Episcopalians their lot. Bloomsburg was for many years known as Eyersburg, or, as it was pronounced, Öyersburg.

A few years since it is said a tree was cut down near the village, with some iron weapon or utensil imbedded in it, and upwards of 150 annual growths outside the iron.

At Mr. McClure's farm, on the Susquehanna, south of the town, was a stockade fort erected in 1781. There appears also to have been another fort on Fishing cr., about three miles above its mouth.

Maj. Moses Van Campen, or Van Camp, as it was usually pronounced, and his brother Jacobus, or "Cobus Van Camp," were famous in the border wars of the Susquehanna. The father of the family was a Low Dutchman, probably from the Minisink settlements on the Delaware. In the winter of 1838, then living at Dansville, N. Y., he sent a petition to Congress for a pension, from which the following passages are extracted:

My first service was in the year 1777, when I served three months under Col. John Kelly, who stationed us at Big Isle, on the West branch of the Susquehanna. Nothing particular transpired during that time, and in March, 1778, I was appointed lieutenant of a company of six-months men. Shortly afterward, I was ordered by Col. Samuel Hunter to proceed with about 20 men to Fishing creek, (which empties into the North branch of the Susquehanna about 20 miles from Northumberland,) and to build a fort about three miles from its mouth, for the reception of the inhabitants in case of an alarm from the Indians. In May, my fort being nearly completed, our spies discovered a large body of Indians making their way towards the fort. The neighboring residents had barely time to fly to the fort for protection, leaving their goods behind. The Indians soon made their appearance, and having plundered and burnt the houses, attacked the fort, keeping a steady fire upon us during the day. At night they withdrew, burning and destroying every thing in their route. What loss they sustained we could not ascertain, as they carried off all the dead and wounded, though, from the marks of blood on the ground, it must have been considerable. The inhabitants that took shelter in the fort had built a yard for their cattle at the head of a small flat at a short distance from the fort; and one evening in the month of June, just as they were milking them, my sentinel called my attention to some movement in the brush, which I soon discovered to be Indians, making their way to the cattle yard. There was no time to be lost; I immediately selected ten of my sharp-shooters, and under cover of a rise of land, got between them and the milkers. On ascending the ridge we found ourselves within pistolshot of them; I fired first, and killed the leader, but a volley from my men did no further execution, the Indians running off at once. In the mean time the milk pails flew in every direction, and the best runner got to the fort first. As the season advanced, Indian hostilities increased, and notwithstanding the vigilance of our scouts, which were constantly out, houses were burnt and families murdered.

In 1779 Van Campen, as quarter-master, accompanied Gen. Sullivan's expedition to ravage the Indian towns on the Genesee. He distinguished himself in several skirmishes at Newtown and Hog Back hill.

On the return of the army I was taken with the camp-fever, and was removed to the fort which I had built in '78, where my father was still living. In the course of the winter I recovered my health, and my father's house having been burnt in '78 by the party which attacked the beforementioned fort, my father requested me to go with him and a younger brother to our farm, about four miles distant, to make preparations for building another, and raising some grain. But little apprehension was entertained of molestations from the Indians this season, as they had been so completely routed the year before. We left the fort about the last of March, accompanied by my

uncle and his son, about 12 years old, and one Peter Pence. We had been on our farms about four or five days, when, on the morning of the 30th of March, we were surprised by a party of ten Indians. My father was lunged through with a war-spear, his throat was cut, and he was scalped; while my brother was tomahawked, scalped, and thrown into the fire before my eyes. While I was struggling with a warrior, the fellow who had killed my father drew his spear from his body and made a violent thrust at me. I shrank from the spear; the savage who had hold of me turned it with his hand so that it only penetrated my vest and shirt. They were then satisfied with taking me prisoner, as they had the same morning taken my uncle's little son and Pence, though they killed my uncle. The same party, before they reached us, had touched on the lower settlements of Wyoming, and killed a Mr. Upson, and took a boy prisoner of the name of Rogers. We were now marched off up Fishing cr., and in the afternoon of the same day we came to Huntington, where the Indians found four white men at a sugar camp, who fortunately discovered the Indians and fled to a house; the Indians only fired on them and wounded a Capt. Ransom, when they continued their course till night. Having encamped and made their fire, we, the prisoners, were tied and well secured, five Indians lying on one side of us and five on the other; in the morning they pursued their course, and, leaving the waters of Fishing cr., touched the head-waters of Hemlock cr., where they found one Abraham Pike, his wife and child. Pike was made prisoner, but his wife and child they painted, and told Joggo, squaw, go home. They continued their course that day, and encamped the same night in the same manner as the previous. It came into my mind that sometimes individuals performed wonderful actions, and surmounted the greatest danger. I then decided that these fellows must die; and thought of the plan to dispatch them. The next day I had an opportunity to communicate my plan to my fellow-prisoners; they treated it as a visionary scheme for three men to attempt to dispatch ten Indians. I spread before them the advantages that three men would have over ten when asleep; and that we would be the first prisoners that would be taken into their towns and villages after our army had destroyed their corn, that we should be tied to the stake and suffer a cruel death; we had now an inch of ground to fight on, and if we failed, it would only be death, and we might as well die one way as another. That day passed away, and having encamped for the night, we lay as before. In the morning we came to the river, and saw their canoes; they had descended the river and run their canoes upon Little Tunkhannock cr., so called. They crossed the river and set their canoes adrift. I renewed my suggestion to my companions to dispatch them that night, and urged they must decide the question. They agreed to make the trial; but how shall we do it, was the question. Disarm them, and each take a tomahawk, and come to close work at once. There are three of us; plant our blows with judgment, and three times three will make nine, and the tenth one we can kill at our leisure. They agreed to disarm them, and after that, one take possession of the guns and fire, at the one side of the four, and the other two take tomahawks on the other side and dispatch them. I observed that would be a very uncertain way; the first shot fired would give the alarm; they would discover it to be the prisoners, and might defeat us. I had to yield to their plan. Peter Pence was chosen to fire the guns, Pike and myself to tomakawk; we cut and carried plenty of wood to give them a good fire; the prisoners were tied and laid in their places; after I was laid down, one of them had occasion to use his knife; he dropped it at my feet; I turned my foot over it and concealed it; they all lay down and fell asleep. About midnight I got up and found them in a sound sleep. I slipped to Pence, who rose; I cut him loose and handed him the knife; he did the same for me, and I in turn took the knife and cut Pike loose; in a minute's time we disarmed them. Pence took his station at the guns. Pike and myself with our tomahawks took our stations; I was to tomahawk three on the right wing, and Pike two on the left. That moment Pike's two awoke, and were getting up; here Pike proved a coward, and laid down. It was a critical moment. I saw

* Died, in Huntington, on the 20th inst., Mr. Jonah Rogers, in the 65th year of his age. The deceased was a member of the Baptist church, and died in a full assurance of a glorious immortality.- -He was one of the first Connecticut settlers in this country, and was here during the hardships experienced in new countries, and the dangers of savage warfare in the troublesome times with the enemy in the revolutionary war, and was taken prisoner by the Indians when quite a lad, together with Maj. Van Campen and the celebrated Abraham Pike, and assisted to kill off the Indians, one of whom only, (John Mohawke, well known to the writer,) escaping with a dangerous wound in the neck, given by Maj. Van Campen with a tomahawk. In the year 1799, John met the major at a public house in the western wilds of New York, and immediately recognised him, (although 20 years after the tomahawk wound,) and proffered the hand of friendship, say. ing, "You, Van Camp, I know you; you know me?" The major shook his head. The savage pulled off his blanket and exhibited the wound in his neck. "Now you know me ?-no enemy Van Camp; war time den-peace time now-we be very good friend; come, we take a drink!" (A lesson for many a white skin!) The readers of this obituary will excuse the digression from the subject, which appeared to be necessary to tell out the tale. Mr. Rogers, after severe suffering, arrived at the settlement with his older companions in safety, and has now retired to everlasting rest.—Wilkesbarre Herald, Jan. 29, 1834.

now,

there was no time to be lost; their heads turned up fair; I dispatched them in a moment, and turned to my lot as per agreement, and as I was about to dispatch the last on my side of the fire, Pence shot and did good execution; there was only one at the off wing that his ball did not reach; his name was Mohawke, a stout, bold, daring fellow. In the alarm he jumped off about ⚫ three rods from the fire; he saw it was the prisoners who made the attack, and giving the warwhoop, he darted to take possession of the guns; I was as quick to prevent him; the contest was then between him and myself. As I raised my tomakawk, he turned quick to jump from me; I followed him and struck at him, but missing his head, my tomakawk struck his shoulder, or rather the back of his neck; he pitched forward and fell; and the same time my foot slipped, and I fell by his side; we clinched; his arm was naked; he caught me round my neck; at the same time I caught him with my left arm around the body, and gave him a close hug, at the same time feeling for his knife, but could not reach it.

In our scuffle my tomahawk dropped out. My head was under the wounded shoulder, and almost suffocated me with his blood. I made a violent spring, and broke from his hold: we both rose at the same time, and he ran; it took me some time to clear the blood from my eyes; my tomahawk had got covered up, and I could not find it in time to overtake him; he was the only one of the party that escaped. Pike was powerless. I always had a reverence for Christian devotion. Pike was trying to pray, and Pence swearing at him, charging him with cowardice, and saying it was no time to pray-he ought to fight; we were masters of the ground, and in possession of all their guns, blankets, match coats, &c. I then turned my attention to scalping them, and recovering the scalps of my father, brother, and others, I strung them all on my belt for safe-keeping. We kept our ground till morning, and built a raft, it being near the bank of the river where they had encamped, about 15 miles below Tioga Point; we got all our plunder on it, and set sail for Wyoming, the nearest settlement. Our raft gave way, when we made for land, but we lost considerable property, though we saved our guns and ammunition, and took to land; we reached Wyalusing late in the afternoon. Came to the narrows; discovered a smoke below, and a raft laying at the shore, by which we were certain that a party of Indians had passed us in the course of the day, and had halted for the night. There was no alternative for us but to rout them or go over the mountain; the snow on the north side of the hill was deep; we knew from the appearance of the raft that the party must be small; we had two rifles each; my only fear was of Pike's cowardice. To know the worst of it, we agreed that I should ascer tain their number, and give the signal for the attack; I crept down the side of the hill so near as to see their fires and packs, but saw no Indians. I concluded they had gone hunting for meat, and that this was a good opportunity for us to make off with their raft to the opposite side of the river. I gave the signal; they came and threw their packs on to the raft, which was made of small, dry pine timber; with poles and paddles we drove her briskly across the river, and had got nearly out of reach of shot, when two of them came in; they fired-their shots did no injury; we soon got under cover of an island, and went several miles; we had waded deep creeks through the day, the night was cold; we landed on an island and found a sink hole, in which we made our fire; after warming we were alarmed by a cracking in the crust; Pike supposed the Indians had got on to the island, and was for calling for quarters; to keep him quiet we threatened him with his life; the stepping grew plainer, and seemed coming directly to the fire: I kept a watch, and soon a noble racoon came under the light. I shot the racoon, when Pike jumped up and called out, "Quarters, gentlemen; quarters, gentlemen!" I took my game by the leg and threw it down to the fire: "Here, you cowardly rascal," I cried, "skin that and give us a roast for supper." The next night we reached Wyoming, and there was much joy to see us; we rested one day, and it being not safe to go to Northumberland by land, we procured a canoe, and with Pence and my little cousin, we descended the river by night; we came to Fort Jenkins before day, where I found Col. Kelly and about 100 men encamped out of the fort; he came across from the West branch by the heads of Chillisquake to Fishing cr., the end of the Nob mountain, so called at that day, where my father and brother were killed; he had buried my father and uncle; my brother was burnt, a small part of him only was to be found. Col. Kelly informed me that my mother and her children were in the fort, and it was thought that I was killed likewise. Col. Kelly went into the fort to prepare her mind to see me; I took off my belt of scalps and handed them to an officer to keep. Human nature was not sufficient to stand the interview. She had just lost a husband and a son, and one had returned to take her by the hand, and one, too, that she supposed was killed.

The day after I went to Sunbury, where I was received with joy; my scalps were exhibited, the cannons were fired, &c. Before my return a commission had been sent me as ensign of a company to be commanded by Capt. Thomas Robinson; this was, as I understood, a part of the quota which Pennsylvania had to raise for the continental line. One Joseph Alexander was commissioned as lieutenant, but did not accept his commission. The summer of 1780 was spent in the recruiting service; our company was organized, and was retained for the defence of the frontier service. In Feb. 1781, I was promoted to a lieutenancy, and entered upon the active duty of an officer, by heading scouts; and as Capt. Robinson was no woodsman nor marksman, he preferred that I should encounter the danger and head the scouts; we kept up a constant chain

of scouts around the frontier settlements, from the North to the West branch of the Susquehanna, by the way of the head-waters of Little Fishing creek, Chillisquake, Muncy, &c. In the spring of 1781, we built a fort on the widow McClure's plantation called McClure's Fort, where our provisions were stored.

Mr. Van Campen, the same summer, went up the West Branch. (See a part of his narrative under Clinton co.) He was taken prisoner by the Indians. On arriving at the Indian village of Caneadia, on the Genesee, he says―

We were prepared to run the Indian gauntlet; the warriors don't whip-it is the young Indians and squaws. They meet you in sight of their council-house, where they select the prisoners from the ranks of the warriors, bring them in front, and when ready the word joggo is given; the prisoners start, the whippers follow after; and if they outrun you, you will be severely whipped. I was placed in front of my men; the word being given, we started. Being then young and full of nerve, I led the way; two young squaws came running up to join the whipping party; and when they saw us start, they halted, and stood shoulder to shoulder with their whips; when I came near them I bounded and kicked them over; we all came down together; there was considerable kicking amongst us, so much so that they showed their under-dress, which appeared to be of a beautiful yellow color; I had not time to help them up. It was truly diverting to the warriors; they yelled and shouted till they made the air ring. They halted at that village for one day, and thence went to Fort Niagara, where I was delivered up to the British. I was adopted, according to the Indian custom, into Col. Butler's family, then the commanding officer of the British and Indians at that place. I was to supply the loss of his son, Capt. Butler, who was killed late in the fall of 1781, by the Americans. In honor to me as his adopted son, I was confined in a private room, and not put under a British guard. My troubles soon began; the Indians were informed by the tories that knew me that I had been a prisoner before, and had killed my captors; they were outrageous, and went to Butler and demanded me, and, as I was told, offered to bring in 14 prisoners in my place. Butler sent an officer to examine me on the subject; he came and informed me their Indians had laid heavy accusations against me; they were informed that I had been a prisoner before, and had killed the party, and that they had demanded me to be given up to them, and that his colonel wished to know the fact. I observed, "Sir, it is a serious question to answer; I will never deny the truth; I have been a prisoner before, and killed the party, and returned to the service of my country; but, sir, I consider myself to be a prisoner of war to the British, and I presume you will have more honor than to deliver me up to the savages. I know what my fate will be: and please to inform your colonel that we have it in our power to retaliate." He left me, and in a short time returned and stated, that he was authorized to say to me that there was no alternative for me to save my life but to abandon the rebel cause and join the British standard; that I should take the same rank in the British service as I did in the rebel service. I replied, "No, sir, no; give me the stake, the tomahawk, or the knife, before a British commission; liberty or death is our motto;" he then left me. Some time after a lady came to my room, with whom I had been well acquainted before the revolution; we had been schoolmates; she was then married to a British officer, a captain of the queen's rangers; he came with her. She had been to Col. Butler, and she was authorized to make me the same offer as the officer had done; I thanked her for the trouble she had taken for my safety, but could not accept of the offer; she observed how much more honorable would it be to be an officer in the British service. I observed that I could not dispose of myself in that way; I be longed to the Congress of the United States, and that I would abide the consequence; she left me, and that was the last I heard of it. A guard was set at the door of my apartment.

I was soon afterward sent down Lake Ontario to Montreal, whence a British ship brought me to New York. In the month of March, 1783, I was exchanged, and had orders to take up arms again. I joined my company in March at Northumberland; about that time Capt. Robinson received orders to march his company to Wyoming, to keep garrison at Wilkesbarre fort. He sent myself and Ensign Chambers with the company to that station, where we lay till November, 1783. Our army was then discharged, and our company likewise: poor and pennyless, we retired to the shades of private life.

BERWICK is on the right bank of the Susquehanna on the eastern boundary of the county; part of the village is in Luzerne co. It is 21 miles N. E. from Danville, and 26 from Wilkesbarre. It contains a Methodist church, an academy, with the usual stores and taverns. A substantial bridge here crosses the Susquehanna to the opposite village of Nescopeck. It is 1,260 feet long, and cost $52,435; was commenced in 1814, and completed in 1818. The North Branch canal passes along the foot