cipients have well earned, and well merited such eulogy. I am indeed proud of the fact, that so many who were, in years long gone by, my schoolmates and playmates, have attained such high position and excellent reputations. But I would ask you to call to mind the many worthy men who have in other callings, or in other professions done service, entitling them to worthy mention.

He that does the most to benefit his fellow man, should stand highest on the roll of honor, and could honors be bestowed or made commensurate with the good accomplished, many who are now unknown, or in comparative obscurity, would stand highest in good repute. In making this remark I have an object in view, and that is to call to your minds the name and services of a man who was a Pompey boy, and who has accomplished more of substantial good, and is more of a benefactor than any lawyer or any doctor who ever went from Pompey, or Pompey Academy. The man about whom I have thus awakened your curiosity, is the inventor of the melodian-Jeremiah Carhart. He worked at his trade as a cabinet maker in this village for some years, and while following his occupation in the city of Buffalo, he invented this soul-stirring instrument. I venture to assert that no instrument ever invented has been so fully adapted to the purpose of rousing those ennobling sentiments or feelings which music is capable of doing, as the melodian, and were it now at once swept from existence, an hiatus would be created that could not easily be filled. It has been manufactured by thousands upon thousands, and is found everywhere from the Atlantic to the Pacific. You find it in the houses of the rich, but oftener among middle classes, and very often in the cottages and log cabins of the poor; you find it in thousands of churches, even way off on the verge of civilization, in the frontier settlements, in the humble churches of the prairies have I seen it and have been charmed by its vibrations. Perhaps you will not find it in St. Paul's or in Trinity, but look into all those churches like the "little one round the corner," where there is true piety and

hearty devotion, and there you will find it. The man then, who has made music for the million, who has made so many hearts and homes more cheerful, bright and glowing with inspiration and happiness, who has added life or heightened the enjoyment of the religious worshipper deserves to be ranked as a benefactor, and truly may it be said of him, "that the world is better for his having lived in it," Jeremiah Carhart sleeps in Greenwood, but the good he has done lives after him. Well, my friends, I am glad I am here to-day, I have come from beyond the Mississippi, and would have traveled twice twelve hundred miles to join you on this festive occasion. My life in the great west, I am proud to say, has not been mis-spent, I have practiced my profession nearly thirty years, and during twenty-four of these years I have been engaged in Medical institutions as a teacher of Anatomy, and am now ministering, as best I can, to the "mind diseased" of three hundred unfortunate fellow beings. I saw St. Louis in its infancy, when it had but sixteen thousand inhabitants. She now numbers over three hundred thousand, and is the fourth city in the Union. There she sits as a Queen, on the bluffs of that mighty river; she is sweeping into her lap the products, the wealth of that great valley; she is the center of over twenty thousand miles of inland navigation, and is now the terminus of fourteen railroads. She is now demanding to be made the capital city of the nation, and mark my prediction, that in ten years, the marbles, the beautiful columns, and cornices of yonder splendid edifice will travel across the continent in the direction where it is said the "star of Empire wends its way;" and I am not certain but if we had a half dozen of the energetic sons of old Pompey there, we might accomplish the matter in half the time.

Well, I have said enough about St. Louis, and I trust you will excuse me for my enthusiasm; but I am glad I was born in Pompey. I look back to my boyhood, and my early manhood, as the happiest period of my life, and as I stroll over these hills and valleys, the rocks, the trees, and streams

call up most pleasing reminiscences, and I wish I were a boy again. I see about me here, the familiar faces of several who were my teachers; there is Miss Charlotte, who taught many of us our A. B. C., and I see yonder Manoah Pratt, who afterwards in a room of the old Academy, taught me other rudiments, and here on my left stands Asa Wells, who taught me geography and grammar, and I see all around me the boys and girls of those days, now most of them happy husbands and wives, or fathers or mothers; but how are we all changed; time has made his mark, most of us have come to that period when we look at the short future and contrast it with the long past.

We have had here a grand and joyful re-union, soon we must shake the parting hand, and by the lightning train speed to our distant homes. May the sunset of our lives be bright; and

"In life's closing hour when the trembling soul flies,

And death stills the heart's last emotion,

Oh! then may the seraph of mercy arise
Like a star on Eternity's ocean."

Dr. Stevens having concluded his remarks, the melody of "music" from Dresher's full band again filled the grove. After which the President said: "We have heard much from Pompey's sons and it may be pleasant and interesting now to hear from some person who was not born in Pompey, not that there is any want of material here, for Pompey has yet remaining some thousands more of statesmen and orators. I therefore, propose the following toast:

"The unfortunates of the human race born outside of the town of Pompey. They have our hearty sympathy and condolence, and we can only say that we hope they will do better the next time.”

I call upon Col. Andrew J. Smith, of Syracuse. Col. Smith responded in a humorous and amusing speech, and closed by reciting in an effective manner, "Miles O'Reiley, after the fall of Richmond."

The next toast proposed by President Wood, was as follows:

"The towns of Onondaga County-The town of Pompey extends fraternal greeting to her sisters, and invokes for them a future as bright, honorable and prosperous as her past has been." And called for a voluntary response, when F. W. Fenner, Esq., of Lysander, took the stand and spoke as follows:

MR. FENNER'S SPEECH.

Mr. Chairman, Ladies and Gentlemen :

I have been listening with feelings of pleasure to the remarks that have been made by the distinguished ex-residents of Pompey-those who have "gone out" from the old town, and made themselves distinguished as Governors, Statesmen, Judges, Lawyers, Doctors and Poets. But I think it is fair that those from old Pompey, who have not gained a handle to their names should have a representation upon this platform.

I claim to hail from the old town, although it was my misfortune not to be born on the hill, but down in the valley. In 1818 I was carried with my father and his family, by the force of circumstances, to the forlorn and forsaken town of Lysander, and from there to Camillus, where but few then lived. Well, my father lived until 1851, an industrious farmer, a good citizen, and a credit to the old town of Pompey. He was a tiller of the soil, a hewer of the timber; but he came out victorious, with nine children, but no lawyers or professional men among them! However, the old fathers and mothers of Pompey taught their children good morals, industry and economy, and may God be praised that we have been blessed with such fathers and mothers. Pompey may well be proud of them; for without them none of our distinguished and honorable friends who have addressed us to-day, could have said that they were born in Pompey! (Laughter).

I am not a public speaker, I plow the soil, but I did think

that we of the hardy hand ourselves, needed a representative here, and I determined to be that one, as no other responded. We cannot all be statesmen, judges and lawyers, and we don't want to be, and we would not be if we could. (Laughter). Some of us must look to the soil, and to the genuine, hard honest workers the country owes its prosperity, and I think the dear old town has abundant reason to be proud of her farmers, as well as of her other great men, for without them the professions would come to naught. (Applause).

The Chairman then announced that an original poem,
entitled "A FRAGMENT," would be read by H. D. L. Sweet,
of Syracuse. Mr. Sweet then read the following poem :
We who boast that our grand-parents formed that noble little band
Who subdued the mighty forests that encumbered this fair land;
They who made the howling wilderness to blossom like the rose;
In their dusky neighbors finding friends, and not insatiate foes,
Should remember that the relics which we find in all our fields
Point to people who once dwelt here that no history reveals.

I have sought the tomes historic, I have roamed tradition's shade,
For some hidden written record that this people must have made;
I have watched for the revealing by some dusky Indian Chief,
Such a legend as would strengthen every link of my belief;
But alas, in vain I've sought them, still they all elude pursuit ;
All conjecture ends in chaos, every witness still is mute.

Thus I thought and thus I'd written, it was only yester night,
That once more I roamed the forest in a sad disheartened plight,
And I saw as it was near a mighty monarch of the wood,
Quite unthinking I approached it, and beneath its branches stood.
All unconscious I addressed it, as I viewed its form with pride;
Few, and simple were the questions, and in whispers it replied:-
Mountain pine tree, standing in the glory yet,
Half forgotten of the nation which this hill
Once supported with its plenty ?" "I forget?
Sooner cease the murmur of yon little rill;
Brothers fell by fire and ax in sight of me;
Fields were cleared of forests and the waving corn
Grew in place of beeches, maples, that you see,
Years, and years before the eldest ones were born.
Rudely, bleakly whistled winds around my form;

Lonely, bravely stood I in a century's storm."