Where earth's unliving silence all might seem,
Save where on rocks the beaver built his dome,
Or buffalo remote, lowed far from human home."
Wilkesbarre, which should have adopted the classic name of Wyoming, is embosomed in that enchanted vale, and laved by the blue waters of the Susquehannah. A great proportion of its inhabitants are of Connecticut origin, and it displays thrift and industry, as well as a rich dowry of nature's charms. It exhibits an agreeable state of society, and admits visitants to an intercourse both heartfelt and hospitable. Among many cherished obligations to the friends, under whose auspices this journey was made, is an introduction to this pleasant spot and kind-hearted people.
No one, gazing on the quietness of the surrounding vale, where it might seem that peace would ever delight to have folded her wing, can remember without emotion, its history of tears and blood, or realize that its smiling surface conceals a catacomb of bones.
The most sudden and surprising changes marked its early existence. The settler who wielded at morn the sickle that was to give his children bread, grasped at noon the weapon of the soldier, and ere night-fall moistened with the life-tide from his bosom, the clods of the valley. Civil war unveiled its rovolting features. Neighbor stood against neighbor, and friend against friend. The nurtured at one breast, met with the frown of deadly foes, and heads that had lain side by side in the same cradle, were cleft by kindred hands.