since received. Most men felt, and felt rightly, that every lad who was going up to the university would be the better for a year or two's preparation by a private tutor, and the tutor was almost always a clergyman. Any country parson in those days who chose to look out for them could get pupils, and very many did so when their cures were small or the calls upon them increased. In many cases this led to that enlargement of the parsonage houses, which I believe to be one of the great rocks ahead for the rural clergy. Now, too many of them find themselves quite overhoused. Since those early days the schools have improved beyond our most sanguine hopes, and the standard of acquirements expected at Cambridge and Oxford has risen to a point which is alarming to the modern bidder for pupils. Even where men are qualified for the work, no wise father now takes away his son from a school to put him with a tutor if he can help it, and no intelligent undergraduate would dream of reading in the long vacation with the average country curate for "Mods" or "Specials." Imagine the dismay of a Cambridge pass-man on being asked to read the Ethics with his Squire's first-born! or the clammy terror of the newly ordained deacon from St. Aidans invited to assist a freshman at Trinity with his Trigonometry! Even the college livings are not filled as they used to be; college fellows no longer "resort to orders" as formerly; the benefices are offered, even the most valuable of them, to men certainly below the first rank in culture and intellect; and, with an infatuation which I wonder some good people have not long ago stigmatized as "judicial blindness," the bishops as a body seem to be doing their very best to keep out of the ministry the whole race of schoolmasters, i. e., the only men who, being ordinarily "scholars and gentlemen," have still some kindly prejudices in favor of the Establishment; and whose alliance, if rejected at the present moment with suspicion and hauteur, may one of these days be given cordially to the other side. Be that as it may, the fact remains, tuition and the remuneration it brings are rapidly passing, and have almost altogether passed, out of the hands of the country clergy. Thus the parsons with many sons and daughters and small private means-it is still very rarely that they are living only on their cures have dropped behind, and, relatively to their parishioners, are much poorer than they were. Now and then one hears some kindly tenant, of what used to be the manorhouse and its domain land, dropping into a patronizing tone, and pitying the poor rector and his family, while in a gauche though well-intentioned way, he wounds their feelings as he offers them friendly assistance. At times the two men are at war, and then the parson knows many a sleepless night. But whatever the relations may be between them, it is clear enough that the one class has gone up, the other down. The increase in the cost of education, the terrible pressure of the local rates-for the clergyman suffers for the sin of being a clergyman by being rated on his gross income-the greater rigor of the law of dilapidations, the burden of having to keep up houses, buildings, and fences erected by a predecessor richer than himself, and the general prodigality in our social habits, all contribute to make the country parson's life a far more anxious struggle and a far sadder one than it used to be thirty years ago. It may be asked, "If what one class has lost another has gained, has not the community, on the whole, benefitted by the change?" The answer is that this is not a question which admits of being narrowed to the limits of a tradesman's balance-sheet. When we mount to that region where the affections, sentiments, and aspirations have their play, we need not be afraid of the reproach of "talking vaguely." It would be an immense calamity to the rural population if the clergy were to sink in the social scale. Say what we will, the tone of the farmhouse is not, and never can be, what the tone of the parsonage used to be, and, in many cases, still continues to be. The villager, with no clergyman or his family to drop in and gossip, and consult, and befriend on the old footing, would inevitably sink into a "hand" engaged in chronic warfare with his "employer." You would soon educate him up to that-would you ever educate him beyond it? For the rest, the farmers' daughters, better dressed and better set up with luxuries and accomplishments than the young ladies at the rectory, with a wider knowledge of the outside world, handsomer drawingrooms and trimmer lawns, yet do lack something. Somehow a man feels that in marrying into the one class all he would lose would be dower; in marrying into the other there would be little else that he could expect to gain, I am inclined to think that the laborer's material gains have been appraised a little too highly. The increase in money wages has been considerable, but I am satisfied that directly and indirectly he has gained less than has been supposed. Thirty years ago, in harvest-time, a man's wife earned at least half as much as her husband, every child gained a little, every house was shut up. On Sunday men, women, and children were asleep from sheer weariness. As for the gleaning, I have known instances where a family has been kept in bread over Christmas day, the flour ground exclusively from the corn picked up in gleaning time. In those days farmers kept few accounts, and then not very trustworthy ones, but they roughly guessed that the harvest cost them ten or twelve shillings an acre against sixteen or seventeen which it costs them now. There is good reason to think the old estimate too low, whatever may be thought of the new reckoning. However, there can be no question that the laborer of to-day is a great deal better off than his father was, with one notable and shameful exception, which we shall come to by-and-by; his children are cleaner, better taught, better looked after, better dressed than they were; his wife is no longer the poor drudge she almost invariably became after her fourth or fifth child; she has her perambulator, and in many instances her sewing machine, she even talks to you of her dressmaker;* she takes great pride in sending her little ones to school, with all due regard to their personal appearance; she is fastidious in the Christian names she selects, especially for the girls; Mary Ann and Susan Jane are fast disappearing from some districts. "Why don't you have that baby called Maria for a change?" I said to one dirty, gaunt mother, some time back, who had a string of daughters christened Bertha, Florence, Ethel, and what not? "Lor, sir! Would you now? It's so wulgar!" The truth is, the peasantry have begun to have tastes as well as other people: they have shorter hours of work, i. e. more leisure; the women have almost passed out of the labor market altogether. I have found them reading novels; they like to see things looking pretty, they put up neat papers on their walls; something must cure the cracks and flaws that let the wind in; they buy pictures such as they are, they have an eye for art after a fashion, they, too, will come to adore the sunflower all in due time. And all this is so much gain: but there is something to be said on the other side. I doubt whether the agricultural laborer is much more of a grumbler than he was, but he is certainly more defiant in his tone and bolder in his self-assertion. He has become a very keen bargainer, suspicious, exacting, mercenary, and this to an extent which I should not have thought possible thirty years ago; he knows the price of everything; he will do nothing for nothing; he is greedy for money, and accepts any substitute for money with reluctance. "I like the real thing!" said one to whom I repre *Nothing has astonished me more than the amazing number of dressmakers to be found in the new Arcadia. They were so rare in the old Arcadia that I fancied dresses were like babies-the produce of gooseberry bushes. sented that he got his cottage rent free and was, so far, better off than his neighbors. Retaining too many of the habits and traditions of pauperism, he takes what is given to him at Christmas or Whitsuntide less as dole than as due, and he is loud in denouncing "favoritism," a word which he has learnt since my younger Arcadian days. power means right, to the middle man who is paid by com-mission or paid by the job. It would be idle to suggest to the modern land agent, autocratic plenipotentiary as he too often is, that there is some truth in the maxim,-"Summa lex summa injuria." But here I am on very delicateground. With all this that is unpleasant about the new peasantry, I am bound to say that they have made one very remarkable step forward. As a body the laborers now pay ready money for their commodities, far more commonly than they did. Of course there are those of them who will always be behindhand, and who live all their lives in debt. But debt is no longer universal as it once was. Formerly every man had a score at the village shop, and very dearly he had to pay for the credit he expected and received; but the competition which beggared the small shopkeeper compelled him to resort to the machinery of the county court, and the dread of that terrible power has scared many into economy and self-denial, and these have brought their own reward. So it has come about that the laborer who is hope-enactments of recent legislation, has been, and will long lessly behindhand is quite the exception; the rule is the other way. I have said that the agricultural laborer of to-day is better off on the whole than his father was-with one notable and shameful exception. I may not shrink from touching on this part of my subject. It has been estimated that during the last thirty years nearly twenty millions sterling have been spent in building, restoring, or enlarging the places of worship of the Established Church alone. I rejoice in the fact, if it be a fact. How much has been further spent upon parsonage houses, it would be difficult to guess, but the amount must be large. The erection of schools and residences for teachers, under the continue to be, a sore burden to the ratepayers. The number of country houses of the gentry that meanwhile have been built anew has not been so considerable, though it is rare to find one that has not been added to, made more luxurious, or improved in the stables, the gardens, or in the conservatories. As to the farm-houses, it would make Gainsborough or Constable weep to see how the dear old places they loved. have been replaced by mansions, or at least by ample family houses such as the scientific agriculturist-the high farmer in more senses than one-expects to bring his wife and daughters to. Nor is this all. The cattle and beasts of burden have benefitted by what has been going on. The stables and bullock-sheds, the cow-houses and piggeries, the very kennels. have become commodious, substantial, costly, not seldom ornamental. On all these things no expense has been spared. But here progress has stopped. Yes! The housesof God and their ministers, the owners of the soil and their tenantry, the sheep and the oxen, the dogs and the swine, are decently, housed and cared for. What have the peas But if the agricultural laborer has been a gainer to the extent indicated, he is not a bit more-nay, he is much less contented with his lot than he was. How should he be? The old men remember the roadsides, the wastes, and commons, and village greens, and patches of no man's land, which have gone from them for ever. The donkey munched the thistles or rolled in the dust, the cow, half starved perhaps in winter, yet gained a certain sort of sustenance and picked up its livelihood under the hedge or on the green. The geese hissed at strangers intruding upon this or that patch of verdure, and brought in a few shillings, if their owner were lucky with them, at Michaelmas time. There was a charm and amusement and the excitement of a commercial speculation about it all. The men had something to come back to in the evening besides the bare walls of their cottages, the women something to do in the daytime besides gossip and stare. The children, too, had their part in the game, if it was only to keep an eye on the "Dickey," and sometimes ride him if he did not kick too high. Then, too, there were always some playgrounds where the young-antry of England done, and what is their crime, that they sters could "get into mischief," as the phrase is, i. e. where they could hope to find a rat or a weasel-peradventure, too (oh, the shocking crime!) disturb a rabbit, snare an "old hare" (why the peasant should insist so much upon the age of a hare I never could understand), scotch a snake, or turn up a hedgehog. All these are things of the past. The plain, ugly fact is patent to all who do not resolutely keep their eyes shut, that the agricultural laborer's life has had all the joy taken out of it, and has become as dull and sodden a life as a man's can well be made. There are scores-perhaps hundreds of villages where the inhabitants have absolutely no amusements of any kind outside the public-house, where cricket, or bowls, or even skittles, are as unknown as bearbaiting-where the children play at marbles in the gutter in bodily fear lest the road surveyer should come down upon them. It is all very well for philosophers, born and bred in Bloomsbury, to discourse learnedly upon the wastefulness of the commons, or for lawyers in Lincoln's Inn to assure us that there can be no doubt about the rights of the lord of the manor. As to the commons, I have observed that the noisiest advocates for enclosure are the "advanced thinkers" of the squares and streets, the absentee squire who has outrun the constable, and is in his agent's hands, and the people afflicted with that mania called "land-hunger." As to the rights of the lord, again, I have observed that the word rights is getting used more and more generally as a synonym for powers, as though the two notions were identical. Right always does mean power, and alone have been left as they were? "As they were?" No! Not as they were-ten times worse than they were! Let a man of fifty ride five miles in any direction from his own door in some of the most carefully tilled counties of England, and he must be fortunate in his surroundings if he can find ten laborers' cottages that have been built with three sleeping-rooms since he arrived at manhood. Let him at the same time take a note of the "houses" of agricultural laborers in which large families have been brought up—God knows how-and on which fifty pounds have been spent during the same time. Let him end by counting the number of dwellings that have been allowed to fall down, and from which the last occupant has escaped only just soon enough. Let him do all this, I say, and I think that man will be startled and shocked if he has any heart or any pity in him. The peasantry are huddling under roofs which our grandfathers raised; but roofs and walls have had half a century or more of wear and tear. This one is propped up by an old dead tree, that one has been “daubed with untempered mortar," the other one has been made habitable by the wretched tenant with some old sleepers fetched from the nearest railway, or the thatch mended by his own hand with straw that ought to have gone to the pig. Men pretend to wonder that the population of our villages goes on decreasing. It would be wonderful if it were otherwise. The peasantry have acquired migratory habits, and gone into the towns from sheer necessity. We have been doing our best in our schools to teach the rising generation decency and self-respect, and in proportion as they learn that lesson in that proportion do they take the earliest opportunity to get out of the shameful hovels which cruel mockers call their "homes." The wrong and the sin are those of omission as far as the larger proprietors are concerned. I grant; but what then? Non hominem occidi.-Non pasces in cruce corvos. The mischief is all the harder to deal with because the larger number of our laborers' cottages are not the property of the great land-owners, but of small, sometimes very small, proprietors. These latter manage to get a very handsome return for their investments, and are quite safe in asking what rent they chose to demand. Tell them they are living in a fool's paradise, and that Mr. A. or Mr. B. will build some decent dwellings soon, and empty the old tumble-down shanties, and they laugh at you. "I know better than that," said a coarse, foul-mouthed old drover to me. "Gentlemen don't like building houses for them sort of people. We ain't got no game-keepers here, nor no gentlefolks neither!" So the small capitalist invests in the row of cottages within easy reach of the public house, and very well he makes it pay. Even looking at the matter from the meanest point of view, it appears doubtful whether he is not more shrewd than the richer proprietor, who tells you that the broad acres cannot run away, while laborers can and do. Ay! They can and do. But as William Cobbett said in his own strong way nearly half a century ago, "Without the laborer the land is nothing worth. Without his labor there can be no tillage, no enclosure of fields, no tending of flocks, no breeding of cattle, and a farm is worth no more than an equal number of acres of the sea or of the air." It is when we come to deal with the results directly traceable to the general decay and neglect of the laborers' dwellings that the outlook appears most serious. Unhappily we are all too well aware that in the best times chastity never was a virtue held in very high estimation among the rural population. Two young people "kept company" for a while, and the result was accepted as a matter of course. Thirty years ago marriage also followed as a matter of course, and a man was looked upon as a bad fellow who delayed to 'father his child' by making the mother his wife. Of late years this remnant of honorable sentiment has been dying out, and, by much that I can hear from those on whose information I can rely, the conviction has been forced upon me that female prostitution in country villages is by no means uncommon. The young men have no houses to bring their wives to, the young women will not be content with the ruinous hovels. So the child is born, weaned, and left with the grandmother; the young fellow slinks off into the town or takes 'a jog' in some remote county-the order of affiliation is never served, and the girl goes out to service or she hangs about the village with nothing to do, and hoists her flag again in hopes that sooner or later she may capture some weak besieger of the citadel and be made an honest woman of by bearing another's name. If this should not happen as soon as might be wished, and if youth passes and middle life is beginning, she has still another chance. A laborer finds himself suddenly a widower with three or four young children and no female to look after them. What is he to do? The natural course would be to marry again. Formerly this used to be invariably done, and usually with very little delay. Now he tells you he can do better than that. He takes a housekeeper and pretends that he means to look out for a wife. He has not the least difficulty in finding the housekeeper, and forthwith new relations are entered into. He has nothing to gain by marriage-nothing as far as he can see-and something to lose by tying himself for life to a woman whose antecedents will not bear looking into, who has perhaps two or three children that may be anybody's, and whom moreover he has in his power as long as he can dismiss her at a week's notice. Meanwhile, the young men, having once broken away from the parents' nest, acquire roaming habits, go to the 'pits,' run up to London for a spree, become navvies, and speedily learn the coarse vice and foul language of the society into which they have plunged, and if they come back to their birthplace they come back brutalized, unsettled, reckless; always with empty pockets, and bawling against and denouncing every class except their own with a set of phrases from the new Gospel of Hate which ribald agitators ply them with. But these men do not marry; too often they return at thirty, broken-down sots, and badly diseased, and not seldom become the disseminators of such poison as I do not care to speak of. Thus, spite of improved machinery, spite of increased wages, spite of shorter hours of toil, the labor market continues to exhibit the remarkable anomaly of a steady decrease of supply, varying inversely with the increase of demand. To explain it by saying that it is a mere question of wages is to show an entire ignorance of the facts. Taking the rural population in the mass and comparing their income man by man with that of the mass of the townsmen, I have a strong suspicion that the countryman would be found by no means the poorer of the two. As to that industrious, sober, able-bodied agricultural laborer who has to bring up a family on twelve shilling a week, he exists only in the speeches of the demagogue. Such a man in the eastern counties is not to be found; he would be as hard to meet with as a polecat. The truth is you have increased the laborer's daily wages, but that is absolutely all that you have done for him. He asks for a decent home, for a chance of bettering himself, for the possibility of a future which may raise him to the rank of a small proprietor; for some prospect of trying his luck with a cow or a horse and cart; for some innocent recreation and amusement when his day's work is done; for some tiny playground for his children in the summer evenings;* for some object of ambition. What answer can you make to him? Are you going to point to the sign of the Chequers creaking in the breeze? Our agricultural friend refuses to take the hint, and angrily shakes his head. The very beer is so bad that it has ceased to tempt him to a debauch. I do not pretend to be a prophet, but, looming through the mists of the future, there are some ugly shapes that seem to be frowning on us. The cry for tenant right has not yet made itself heard on our side of the Channel, but are we sure there are no mutterings of a storm whose thunder may be only the echo of the Land League's roar? I fancy, if some gentlemen were to find themselves at a farmers' ordinary on market-day, they would hear more than they expected. The great capitalists among the farmers, again, are giving up the game, and sullenly telling you that high farming doesn't pay. I think they don't mean what they say; but they do mean that farming on a large scale and in the grand style does not pay. If they are right, there is a mauvais quart d'heure for such as have pulled down three or four farmhouses and thrown the fields into one large holding. If landlords be compelled to reverse a policy to which they have been pledging themselves for so long, they may find that it was an evil day for them when they began to "burn one house to warm another." But the labor market. Oh, the labor market! there's the rub! There stands the ominous fact that for years an exodus has been going on from the country villages of the best and most ambitious of the laboring class. It is going on still. *I have seen children crying because it was holiday time at the school, and they had nothing to do at home and no place to play in. Village life has ceased to present charms to the sons of the soil. There have been many causes operating to bring this about; no one remedy can be trusted to meet the evil. But yet something may be done. Men do not run away in shoals from homes where their childhood was happy and their youth blessed with joyous memories, and in which they may look forward in their turn to pass their best years in some decency, comfort, and self-respect. They do run away from the odious thought of living and dying in a squalid hovel with a clay floor and two dark cabins under the rafters, reached by a rickety ladder; in the one of which sleep father and mother as best they can, while in the foetid air of the other their offspring of both sexes huddle, sometimes eight or nine of them, among them young men and young women, out of whom you are stamping all sense of shame. Yes! people do run away from a life like this; leaving it behind them as a dreadful past which they remember only with indignation, or rebelling against the prospect of it as a future too hideous to be entertained, except with scorn. I, for one, do not blame them. NIGHT AND MORNING. Sorrow and storm upon the deep, A mile away from shore. "Ah me, what will the morning bring?" I heard a woman cry; "The waves are strong, the night is long. No helping hands are nigh!" Oh, bitter, bitter was the wail Of wives upon the beach; Sorrow and sighing in the room And darkness lay across the way "Ah me, what will the morning bring?" The day broke slowly, cool and grey For God was greater than the wave, Oh, soul and bark, through storm and dark The eye is the window of the soul; the mouth the door. The intellect, the will, are seen in the eye; the emotions, sensibilities, and affections, in the mouth. The animals look for man's intentions right into his eyes; even a rat when you hunt him and bring him to bay, looks you in the eye.-Hiram Powers. All sects are different because they come from men; morality is everywhere the same because it comes from God.Voltaire. The superiority of some men is merely local; they are great because their associates are little.-Johnson. THE ORIGIN AND HISTORY OF THE WORD "CHAUTAUQUA." The excellent reputation that Chautauqua Lake bears as a place of rest, and the remarkable school of learning established on its shore, have drawn many there. They who go to enjoy these privileges, naturally feel an interest in the Lake, and all that relates to it; even in the origin and meaning of the Indian name by which it is known. It is the purpose of this article to give a history of the word, and what is known of its signification. The country extending along the southern shore of Lake Erie remained unexplored and almost unknown to Europeans until nearly as late as 1750. The French, who held possessions in Canada, had either been excluded from that region by the fierce and warlike Iroquois, or their enterprising spirit had not drawn them that way. Communication between the French forts and settlements in Canada, and their posts on the Lower Mississippi, was first maintained by the long and circuitous route of the Ottawa River, Green Bay, and the Mississippi River; and afterwards by Lake Michigan and the Illinois River; and, at a still later period, by the Maumee and the Wabash. The direct and easy communication that could have been had between Canada and the Mississippi, by the way of the short portage between Lakes Erie and Chautauqua, and thence to the Ohio, seems to have been for a long time unknown to the French. Indeed, we find no early mention of Chautauqua Lake. It is not marked upon Champlain's map of 1632, nor does his map contain evidence that he had an accurate knowledge of this part of the country. No white man, it is probable, ever beheld the Lake previous to 1700. Baron La Houton, who accompanied De Nouville, Governor General of Canada, in a warlike expedition against the Iroquois in New York, in 1687, subsequently extended his travels further to the west, and in 1688 visited Lake Erie in company with a party of western Indians, and invaded the territory of the Iroquois, to the south of it, in the State of Ohio. He wrote a very interesting description of the Lake and the country around it, in the course of which he says: "Lake Erie is justly dignified with the illustrious name of Conti; for assuredly it is the finest upon earth. You may judge of the climate from the latitude of the countries that surround it. Its circumference extends to two hundred and thirty leagues, but it affords everywhere a charming prospect; and its shores are decked with oak trees, chestnut trees, walnut, apple, plum trees, and vines which bear their fine clusters, up to the very tops of the trees, upon a spot of ground that lies as smooth as one's hand. Such ornaments as these are sufficient to give rise to the most agrecable idea of a landscape in the world. I can not express what quantities of deer and turkeys are to be found in these woods, and in the vast meadows that lie upon the south side of the Lake. At the foot of the Lake we find wild beeves (buffaloes), on the banks of two pleasant streams that disembogue into it, without cataracts or rapid currents. It abounds with sturgeon and white fish, but trout are very scarce in it, as well as other fish that we take in Lake of Hurons and Illinese (Michigan). It is clear of shelves, rocks, and banks of sand, and has fourteen or fifteen fathoms of water. The savages assure us that it is never disturbed by high winds, except in the months of December, January, and February, and even then but seldom, which I am very apt to believe, for we had very few storms when I wintered in my fort in 1688, though the fort lay open to the Lake Hurons. The banks of this Lake are commonly frequented by none but warriors, whether Iroquois, the Illinese, the Oumiamies, etc., and it is very dangerous to stop there. By this means it comes to pass stags, roe-bucks, and turkeys run in great bodies up and down the shore all around the Lake. In former times the Errirouons and the Andastogueronons lived upon the confines of the Lake; but they were extirpated by the Iroquois, as well as the other nations marked upon the map." Although Lake Erie was well-known to Europeans so early it was not until the long and earnest contention between England and France, respecting the boundary lines between their possessions in America, that Chautauqua Lake was first brought to notice. The French claimed dominion over all the country lying west of the Alleghenies. The English also claimed the territory westward of their colonies, to the Pacific Ocean. The latter, in 1722, established a trading post at Oswego, and a little later built there a fort. The French thereupon, to enable them to command communication with the west, in 1725 reoccupied and reconstructed Fort Niagara, which had been deserted for over thirty-five years. They made it a strong fortress. In 1749 the two rival countries proceeded more directly to assert their rights to the territory lying west of the Alleghenies. The English government granted five hundred acres of land on the Ohio to the Ohio Company, which included persons in London, Maryland, and Virginia as its members; among whom were Lawrence and Augustine Washington. The objects of this Company were the settlement of this territory, and the establishment of trade with the Indians. The French, the same year, sent from Lachine, in Canada, Captain Bienville de Celoron with two hundred and fourteen soldiers and Canadians, and fifty-five Iroquois and Abenakis Indians, to the Ohio country to take possession of those disputed regions in the name of the king of France. In June, 1749, this party ascended the St. Lawrence, and coasted along the eastern and southern shore of Lake Ontario, passed up the Niagara River, and along the southern shore of Lake Erie as far west as the mouth of Chautauqua Creek, at the hamlet of Barcelona, Chautauqua county, where they arrived July 16, 1749. They then passed over the portage between Lakes Erie and Chautauqua, and arrived at the head of the latter Lake on the 22d. Celoron and his men, from the heights of Mayville, first beheld this secluded water. Remote from the obscure paths of the wilderness, it was seldom visited by savage, and perhaps never before by civilized man. Celoron embarked on the Lake on the 23d. In his voyage over its upper expanse, he passed the consecrated groves of Point Chautauqua and Chautauqua, which were then but the haunts of the wild deer, or where it may be, the wolf made his lair. He passed the narrow cape, now know as Long Point, which, stretching far into the deepest waters of the Lake, narrows to a long and slender thread of land scarcely wide enough to bear its single line of graceful forest trees, or to hide the glistening bay beyond. This charming bay, shut in by Long Point, Thomas Point, and Bemus Point, forms a miniature lake. When Celoron passed over its bright waters, it was a marvel of natural beauty. On this day Celoron passed Bemus Point, and through the narrows into the lower expanse. Rude as were these forest rovers, as they paddled their boats over its clear, sparkling waters, they must have been impressed with the rare beauty of the Lake. Fed by springs beneath its surface, or by streams of purest water, in which the brook trout dwelt, that rippled down over beds of gravel, through leafy shades, from springs among the hills; its gracefully curving shores nearly hid by overhanging foliage that spread densely from the water's margin on every side, to the summits of the encircling hills, the Lake must have been even more beautiful than now. On the night of the 23d, Celoron encamped on the shore of the Lake, about three miles above its outlet; at what place it is not precisely known. About 1811 a French ax of a peculiar pattern was found upon that shore of the lower Lake. Its helve had nearly gone to decay, and in 1816 an old musket was also found near the same shore upon the same side of the Lake. It appeared to have been standing near a' large ash tree. The stock fell to pieces when the gun was taken up; the barrel and its bands were badly rusted; the letters inscribed upon the gun indicated that it was of French manufacture. These ancient relics may indicate the place where Celoron and his party encamped. On the 24th the expedition made little progress. They passed down the narrow and crooked outlet, the light of day being nearly shut out by the overreaching forest; they encamped the night of the 24th at or near the present site of Jamestown. Celoron was provided with a number of leaden plates to deposit at various points on his route, to indicate formal acts of possession and dominion. Upon each of these plates an appropriate inscription in French was engraved, expressing the purpose of the expedition, with a space left in each in which to engrave the place of its deposit when determined upon. The Iroquois, who were extremely jealous of the movements of the French, managed by some artifice to obtain one of these leaden plates, which they delivered to Sir William Johnson, and which was afterwards probably carried to England. The following is a translation of the inscription engraved upon it, prepared, it is believed, to be buried at the outlet of Chautauqua: "In the year 1749, of the reign of Louis XV, King of France, we, Celoron, commander of a detachment sent by Monsieur the Marquis de la Galissoniere, Governor General of New France, to re-establish tranquility in some Indian villages of these cantons, have buried this plate of lead at the confluence of the Ohio and the Chautauqua (Tchadakoiu in the original), this 29th day of July, near the river Ohio, otherwise Belle Rivere, as a monument of the renewal of the possession we have taken of the said river Ohio, and of all those which empty into it, and of all the lands on both sides as far as the sources of the said rivers, as enjoyed, or ought to have been enjoyed, by the kings of France preceding, and as they have there maintained themselves by arms and by treaties, especially those of Ryswick, Utrecht, and Aix la Chapelle.” The name Ohio, or Beautiful River, was applied by the French to the Allegheny, as well as to the river below Pittsburgh. By the inscription it would appear that it was believed by Celoron, either that the Chautauqua outlet emptied into the Ohio at Warren, or that the Conewango and Canadaga were the main branches of the river, and were consequently entitled to the appellation of Ohio. The first plate buried by Celoron, was at the confluence of the Ohio and Kanaaiagou (Conawango), on the 29th of July, as appears by the leaden plate placed there. It was buried at the foot of a red oak, on the south bank of the Allegheny, at the confluence of that stream with the Conewango, near the village of Warren. Celoron continued his journey down the Ohio, as far as the mouth of the Great Miami, when he ascended the Miami and returned to Canada. He buried leaden plates inscribed with similar inscriptions near the famous rock below Franklin, known as the Indian God; at the mouth of Wheeling Creek, in West Virginia; at the mouth of the Muskingham, which plate was found by some boys in 1798; also at the mouth of the Great Kanawha, which was found in 1846, and lastly, at the mouth of the Great Miami. The first that we find a name applied to Chautauqua Lake, or its outlet, is the word Tchadakoiu, in the inscription upon this leaden plate, thus surreptitiously obtained by the Indians from the French, and presented to Sir William Johnson; and in the journal of the expedition kept by Celoron, where it is written Chatacoiu, and Chatakouia; and upon a map of the route of the expedition made at the |