met with, out of perhaps five hundred, that could gain any thing from me in the game of long bullets. The next event I have to record is one that was a mournful event, deep and heart-felt sorrow pervaded all ranks and conditions of persons in the United States, tories excepted. It seemed as if the great fountains of tenderness were broken up and the gloriously bright ark of Republicanism was dashing tempest tossed in fearful hopings against hope (as to the future) upon its mighty bosom. A leader, a saviour, a founder, a father, a patriot, a cherished and loved head and protector of his Columbia was gone. News arrived at Reading that the great and good Washington, first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen was no more. The news seemed like a dream, although all knew that it was but too fearfully true, but such was the fact, it could scarcely be believed. Washington dead? He was mortal, he could not be retained in life, the wishes and prayers of millions could not have arrested the strong arm of the King of Terrors. Washington, although sincerely loved by a grateful people, had nevertheless to bow to the stern monarch of the grave, but in descending to his tomb, he carried with him in his death, the high and anguish wrought, sorrowful feelings and faithful affections of a distressed and mourning people. Immediately after the arrival of this sad news, a public meeting was held at the Court-House in Reading, and arrangements made for a funeral procession. The Free Masons met at their Lodge, and made arrangements to join in the procession. A bright and exemplary brother had gone from a mystic Lodge upon earth, to join in membership with that Grand Lodge of transplendent and unconceived of brilliancy, holiness and glory above, and now, that the last funeral tribute was about to be paid, they could not be idle spectators. Two companies of volunteers, one commanded by Captain Keims, were ordered out. The procession formed in the following. order the military in front, then the coffin, then the order of Masons, then civil officers, and then the citizens. : The procession was fully a mile in length. It moved to a large church in Reading where the military, Masons and many of the citizens entered. The military moved in (preceded by the music) and placed the coffin in an aisle in front of the pulpit. There were from twelve to twenty ministers of the gospel present on the occasion. A funeral oration was delivered, after which the procession moved through Philadelphia street and through some others of the principal streets of Reading, and then to a grave yard where the coffin carried in the procession, was deposited with military honors in the tomb, and with as much solemnity as though the body of a beloved Washington had been enshrined within it. It was a day of mourning surely. His immense services were known, his worth was acknowledged, the Republic was in its infancy, and none could offer a guarentee that in an emergency, another Washington could be found to lay hold of the helm of the ship of State and steer her into the port of safety. CHAPTER XXIV. In the year I removed my family to Peddlehouzer, a small town situated in Lancaster county. Here I was employed by one Philip Coplin to keep his race horses. At one time we were returning from a journey, having two race horses (and a mare that I was then riding) with us. We stopped not far from Lancaster, and where there were two side or summer roads alongside of the turnpike. Said Coplin to me, "suppose we try the mare that you are riding, in order to see how she will run with the Crab horse." This horse had never been beaten. I told him if he wished to know her bottom, I would run her against his horse. At the time I had a blanket under my saddle, and entirely forgot to take it off. Our race rider gave us the word 'go,' and we started, the mare doing well, but whilst at full speed (owing to the blanket). my saddle turned, and I was dashed head forward on the hard and stony turnpike. Coplin and our rider carried me to the fence on one side of the road. He stated afterwards that to all appearance, I was dead. The mare ran into Lancaster at full speed, with the saddle hanging under her belly. The rider staid with me, whilst Coplin mounted his horse and started post-haste to Lancaster for a physician. On the way, however, he met a number of persons running, who supposed some person had been killed. Among those he met, there was a Doctor, who was conveyed as quickly to me as possible. When the Doctor was engaged in examining my head, I possessed some little consciousness for the first time. Upon opening my eyes and seeing a crowd standing about me, I asked them what they were about. I then heard the Doctor say that the scull was cracked, but that there was no danger. He then sewed up the gash which had been made on the left side of the crown of my head. As he was doing this, I asked him what the matter was, but he told me to hold still a little while. After the Doctor had finished dressing my head, a number of them carried me into Lancaster, and on the next day Coplin took me to my home in Peddlehouzer. It was not very long before my head healed, but I had a continual head-ache for more than two months afterwards. I lost my first wife, who died in on the 4th of December, 1806. I had but one child living, (a son,) whom I bound, sometime after my wife's decease, to a Tailor of the name of Bumbarger, in Lancaster. I then made sale of my household goods, and set out to travel through old and new Virginia, and through was absent from two to three years. I After my return from Virginia I married a young woman of the name of Lydda Sprenkle, whose parents lived in When I lived in Lancaster about the year 1810, I owned a horse and chair, and there was a man sent to me, who lived in the town of Sunbury in Northumber land county, Pa., who wished me to convey him to his home. He offered to compensate me liberally, and I agreed to convey him thither. I told him, however, that I had just traded for a horse, and did not know whether he would work or not, but that I was about to try him in harness, and if he would work, I would accept his offer. I harnessed my horse and hitched him to the chair, and drove him up and down the street, and found that he worked very well, except that he was a little too spirited in harness. We immediately got in readiness and started for Sunbury, stopping that night at Harrisburg. The next morning we started on our journey again. We stopped and took something to drink at Coxtown, a small place five miles above Harrisburg on the Susquehanna river. The road laid on the bank of the river and quite high above the water, perhaps thirty or forty feet. The side of the hill below the road was exceedingly steep, and was covered with rocks and trees. I had no martingale on my horse. About one hundred yards from the shore of the river, there was an island where there were some wood-choppers at work. happened to have our attention arrested somewhat, and were looking in the direction of the choppers, when all at once my horse took fright at the rattling of the chair on the rough road (as we supposed,) and sprang furiously forward. I could have held and managed him, but my passenger seized one rein or side of the lines next to the river, for the purpose of assisting me to hold him. This pulled him towards the bank, and over we went and down into the river. Had we gone over a rod or two further along the road, we would have been smashed to pieces upon the huge and ragged rocks, but as Providence would have it, where we struck the river beach, it abounded with sand. I clambered up to my feet the best way I could, and dashed in to save my horse from being drowned, but found that I could not lift my — arm, for it was out of place. The woodchoppers having seen us dashing down the steep, and beholding our perilous situation at the bottom, jumped. We into their boat and came in a very short time to our help. They lifted my horse up and brought him out of the water, and strange to relate, he was not hurt. They then pulled my arm into place. We were in a pretty pickle, my passenger grunting like a porker, and I scolding like a Xantippe's wife, and the wood-choppers swearing that they would not take the same ride and chance for the town of Harrisburg and the whole country around it. The wood-choppers took the horse and chair fully a half mile up along the river shore before they could ascend with them to the road again. They told the landlord at the tavern we went to, of the great accident that befel us, who said he never had heard of such a scrape in all his life. I was afraid to trust my horse in the chair any more, and so did not know what to do.The landlord said that he had a good horse, very strong, and which would not scare. He observed that if my horse was a good riding horse, he would exchange with me until my return. He said he had to go but to 's town between that time and my return, and my horse would answer his purpose. I accepted his kind offer, had his horse hitched up, and away we then started and stopped that night at a town called Halifax. We were off next morning bright and early, as we were desirous to reach Sunbury early the next morning, in order to be in time for the races, which were to come off upon that day at Sunbury. There was a poor man who lived near to the race ground, whose wife had been confined but the night previous. This man had to start down the river with a raft on the morning of the races. He had a little girl five or six years old. The nurse (whom he had left with his wife) arose early and kindled a fire in the kitchen, after which she dressed the little girl, and having occasion to go to a neighbor's house for milk, left the little girl alone in the kitchen. It being a cold morning the child (as was supposed) stood too near to the fire for the purpose of warming itself, and its apron took fire. The fire then communicated itself to its other clothing which were |