It may not be inappropriate to mention another old tombstone, of the same vicinity. It is one to the memory of Ralph Sandiford, and is now in the possession of Jesse Griffith, at the place where R. Sandiford was buried at Sandy hill-on the Bustletown road.. The stone, to some, will be regarded as a curiosity, because he was a Friend, and was withal the early protestant against negro slaveryto wit: IN MEMORY OF NEGRO TRADE, AND DYED Byberry. This township was settled as early as Philadelphia itself. The first Englishmen who explored it were four brothers of the name of Walton, who had landed at New Castle, and set out on foot to make their discoveries and choice of location. When they came to Byberry, they were much pleased with a spot of open grass land, and determined to make it their permanent home. They soon got a few acres into wheat, although they had to go back as far as Chester to procure their seed. It was These were soon after joined by other settlers, among whom were Comly, Carter, Rush, and others, the latter named was the ancestor of the distinguished Dr. Rush. The greater part of the first settlers were Friends, which for numerous years afterwards gave to the country the ascendency of Friends' principles and manners. therefore, for many years, the preferred spot of visitation for the remaining Indians, numbers of whom used to gather annually from Edge Pillock and other places in New Jersey, forming little colonies, which would set down at favourite places in the woods, and subsist a while on the land turtle they could catch, and the game they could kill. In these woods they gathered their supply of materials for making baskets, spoons, and ladles, bows and arrows, &c., and saying, as their apology, that their forefathers had reserved such rights in their disposal of the territory. The people were too kind to them to dispute their privilege, and they continued to visit, unmolested, until the period of the revolution. The frank and generous hospitality of the Indians to the original settlers deserved a kind and generous return. The descendants of the original settler, (Carver,) have told me of a striking case of kindness. When his family was greatly pinched for bread-stuff, and knew of none nearer than Chester or New Castle, they sent out their children to some neighbouring Indians, intending to leave them there, until they could have food for them at home; but the Indians took off the boys' trowsers, tied the legs full of corn, and sent them back thus seasonably loaded. Byberry is remarkable for having been once destined as the location of Philadelphia city! At the lower or southern side of the mouth of the Poquessink creek is a pretty elevation of table land, conforming to the line of the river Delaware, covered with a range of pine trees and others, intermixed, and showing now a primitive state and character, such as we understand Philadelphia itself originally had. Our youth who pass it in the steamboats should observe it. This site had once been surveyed and plotted as Philadelphia; and circumstances, for numerous years afterwards, caused it to be called popularly, "Old Philadelphia." It is now a part of the country seat of Mr. Morgan;-and his present mansion, altered and repaired, was once celebrated as "the bake house," at which, on a large scale, biscuit were baked for sea service, and for the continental army. .} So many of the descendants of the primitive inhabitants still occupy in prosperity the places of their forefathers, and give perpetuity to the names of so many original settlers, that it is gratifying now, to ride through their township, and to witness the comforts enjoyed by them. This love of visiting and contemplating places filled with local impressions, generated by the events and doings of our forefathers, is one of the strongest and purest feelings of our nature, and one which we wish to foster, with warm hearted interest, in these pages. It flings over the imagination a delightful spell, where fancy draws those pictures of the past, more homebred, social and endearing, when viewed glimmering through the mist of years. With thoughts like these, we are prompted to add, in conclusion, some extracts from a letter written with pathos and feeling by the celebrated Dr. Rush, to the Hon. John Adams-his warm and social friend, on the occasion of his visit to Byberry, in 1812, to see the old homestead, and to revive the images of his childhood and departed kindred;-even its length, in this place, will be excused by those who know how to appreciate such pure emotions, so prompted by country and home. Such feelings are full of poetry and sensibility, and may some day present to some future Byberry poet, the theme of a touching poem! When silent time, with lightly foot, He sought again his native spot When he drew nigh his ancient home His heart beat all the way,— Each place he pass'd seem'd still to speak "I was called," says he, "lately to visit a patient in that neighbourhood, and having with me my youngest son, I thought I would avail myself of the occasion to visit the farm on which I was born, and where my ancestors for several generations had lived and died. In approaching it, I was agitated in a manner I did not expect. The access was altered, but every thing around was nearly the same as in the days of my boyhood, at which time I left it. The family there, though strangers to me, received me kindly, and discovered a disposition to satisfy my curiosity and gratify my feelings. I soon asked permission to conduct my son up stairs to see the room in which I drew my first breath and made my first unwelcome noise in the world, and where first began the affection and cares of my beloved and excellent mother. I next asked for a large cedar tree which once stood before the door,-planted by my father's hand. It had been converted into the pillars of the piazza before the house. Filled with emotion, I embraced the one nearest me. I next inquired for the orchard planted by the same hand, and was conducted to an eminence behind the house, where I saw a number of apple trees which still bore fruit, to each of which I felt something like the affection of a brother. The building, which is of stone, bears marks of age and decay. On one of the stones near the front door, I discovered the letters J. R. Before the house flows a small but deep creek, abounding in pan fish. The farm consists of ninety acres, in a highly cultivated state. The owner did not want to sell; but I begged, if he ever should incline to dispose of it, to make me or one of my surviving sons the first offer. While I sat in its common room, I looked at its walls, and thought how often they had been made vocal by my ancestors-to conversations about wolves, bears and snakes, in the first settlement; afterwards about cows and calves, and colts and lambs, &c., and at all times, with prayers and praises, and chapters read audibly from the Bible; for all who inhabited it. of my family, were pious people-chiefly of the sect of Quakers and Baptists. On my way home, I stopped to view a family graveyard, in which were buried three and a part of four successive generations, all of whom were the descendants of Captain John Rush, who, with six sons and three daughters, followed William Penn to Pennsylvania, in 1683. He had been a captain of a troop of horse under Oliver Cromwell; and when I first settled in Philadelphia, I was sometimes visited by one of his grandsons, a man of eighty-five years of age, who had, when a boy, often seen and conversed with the former, and especially concerning his services under the Protector, I retain, as his relics, his sword, watch and Bible leaf, on which is inscribed, in his own hand, his marriage, and children's births and names. My grandfather, James Rush, after whom my son, the physician, is named, has his gravestone and inscription in the aforesaid grave ground-as "departed this life, March 16, 1727, aged 48 years, &c." He was a farmer and gunsmith, of much ingenuity in his business. While standing and considering this repository of the dead, there holding my kindred dust, my thoughts ran wild, and my ancestors seemed to stand before me in their homespun dresses, and to say, what means this gentleman, by thus intruding upon our repose; and I seemed to say-dear and venerable friends, be not disturbed. I am one who inherits your blood and name, and come here to do homage to your Christian and moral virtues; and truly, I have acquired nothing from the world, (though raised in fame), which I so highly prize as the religious principles which I inherited from you; -and I possess nothing that I value so much as the innocence and purity of your character. After my return from such a visit, I recounted in the evening to my family, the incidents of the day, to which they listened with great pleasure; and heartily they partook of some cherries from the limb of my father's tree, which my little son brought home with him as a treat to them.' Such a letter, from such an eminent man, consecrates to kindly remembrance such hallowed localities;-It gives to me, if I needed it, a sufficient apology for thus enlarging this chapter on recollections and incidents of Byberry. They will come home to the bosom of many. There is not a spot in this wide-peopled earth, 'Tis the home of our childhood, the soul-touching spot, A letter written under such circumstances does more to illustrate the character and the heart of the writer, than a volume of common biography. The visit of such a man to the graves of his ancestors, creates a stirring at the heart of the sensitive reader. There is piety in it an enthusiasm and holiness of feeling devoted to the dead, which give character and immortality to him who cherished them. His feelings were far better and more pure than to be borne aloft by his renown, amidst the hosannas of the people. In such a place for thought-for mental abstraction, how withdrawn from the tempests which sweep over the world's affairs! What a rest to the heart!The fancy only is busy, when it there cons over the former employments, business, joys, sorrows, hopes and fears of those now beneath his tread. The world's glory-its highest ambition, quickly fades and dies before the tranquil pleasures of such an hour as this. Such a home is consecrated by such a letter, and should be perpetuated and visited as the solum natale of a man both good and great. One cannot forbear the wish that the sons of such a father should long possess the home, and there preserve the simple and touching narrative of such a parent! I would inscribe such a letter upon its walls for ever-Esto tu perpetua. Gwynedd-in Montgomery county. The late venerable Jesse Foulke stated, in substance, the following facts concerning what he knew of the settlement of Gwynedd, to wit: In the year 1698, the township was purchased of William Penn, by William, John, and Thomas Evans, and distributed among original settlers, to wit: William, John, Thomas, Robert, Owen and Cadwallader Evans, Hugh Griffiths, Edward Foulke, Robert Jones, John Hughs, and John Humphreys. Only the two eldest were then Friends all were Welshmen; and all, except the two Friends, were churchmen. These held their meetings at Robert Evans'; and there Cadwallader Evans was in the practice to read from the Bible to the people. But as Cadwalladar Evans himself related, he was going as usual to his brother Robert's, when passing near to the road to Friends' meeting, held at John Hughs and John Humphreys', it seemed as if he was impressed "to go down and see how the Quakers do." This he mentioned to his friends at the close of his own meeting, and they all agreed to go to the Friends the next time; and where they were all so well satisfied, that they never again met in their own worship. In 1700, they built a log meeting house, near where the present |