SKIRTING the south-eastern border of Lancaster, county, Pennsylvania, where it forms the dividing line between that and Chester county, is the Octorara creek. It is a beautiful and romantic stream, and after the union of its eastern and western branches, attains considerable size. Along its banks can be found almost every variety of scenery; and every description of romantic and picturesque beauty. The stream itself is a study for the lover of Nature, who would never tire in contemplating it. Now it spreads out a broad bright sheet of glassy surface, glowing like burnished silver, as it reflects the rays of the setting sun, or glistens beneath the full moon's rich flood of glorious light; while slowly, silently and almost imperceptibly it moves forward. Again, it rushes madly down some deep ravine, leaping wildly from rock to rock and dashing its white foam in every direction, as though it bore a message whose supreme importance Nature herself had recognized. Sometimes it traverses a deep forest, where for miles the mighty oak and the kingly pine, with their broad-spreading branches intertwined, almost shut out the light of day; while the whispered murmur of the waters seems like the sigh of some hopeless spirit wafted from the darkness of the unknown. Again emerging, it threads some green meadow, reflecting the blue heavens above, and the wild flowers and beautiful verdure that skirt its borders. Here and there is a mill-dam that turns the machinery that grinds the grain for the neighboring farmers; while over its breast glides a broad sheet of water, which, falling some distance, forms a miniature Niagara, whose roar can be heard for miles away in the stillness of the night or early morning, and whose voice reaches far and wide when the usually placid stream swells into an angry flood. One cannot but remark the partiality always felt toward a stream of water by those who dwell upon its borders. Nothing furnishes such solace for their leisure hours as a stroll along its banks. For them it has some ever-present attraction, which retains its freshness as long as life endures. Forty years ago or more, the period at which our story commences, the Octorara, or that part of it between the junction of the two branches and the Maryland line, was wilder and more romantic than at the present day. The deep, unbroken forests that then lined its banks have been partly cleared away. Houses have been erected where there was undisturbed solitude, lands cleared and cultivated and waterpower made available where then no sound of industry disturbed the stillness of nature. Still, at that time, it was by no means an unsettled section of country. Public highways leading north and south crossed the stream at intervals, which was passable for all kinds of vehicles at any of the fords, except when swollen by rains or rendered impassable by ice, which was often the case during the winter season.
