Whose foresight, bravery and woodland skill
Would make him worthy for the task employed,
They scanned the roster, checking all until,
Their judgment centered on Lieutenant Boyd.

Boyd was a youngster of the yeoman type,
A Pennsylvania man, with a clean strain
Of steadfast bravery that made him ripe
For all the risks of Indian Campaign.

Gladly he listened to the task assigned

To take a score of men and make his way, Reporting to the army left behind

Just where the looked for Indian village lay.

Out in the dusk he led his little band,

A tried Oneida showing them the trail,
Cautiously each foot of way was scanned,
For cunning must match cunning to prevail

In border warfare, and at break of day
They reached a village on the Genesee
Empty and silent all the wigwams lay,

No sign of life save lodge fires burning free.

The scouts presuming this the looked for town,
Sent four men back to camp with a report
To Sullivan, then each man settled down

To breakfast, and a needed rest to court.

While resting thus, one private Murphy, saw
Two skulking red men hovering in the glade,

On impulse he his trusty piece did draw

And made a kill before his hand was stayed.

The victim's fellow darted quick away

With sinuous doublings like a startled deer And disappearing through the forest gray

Boyd knew he now had deepest cause for fear.

Murphy securing his victim's scalp and gun
Laughed at his leader's sudden serious mien,
Upheld his blunder with, "It must be done"

Then notched his gun stock, saying "seventeen."

Sure they were in jeopardy

Boyd ordered a retreat

Back to the army camped

Eight miles away,

A wilderness between

And a foe both strong and fleet

Straining to head them off

lusting to slay.

On sped the little band

threading the path

Swiftly and silently

Coolly and steady,

Bound to elude

the red foeman's wrath

Fingers on trigger guards

every man ready,

Safely they traveled

six miles of the distance,

Hope sprang afresh

In the hearts of these boys.

They would soon meet the pickets There would be no resistance

"Hurrah! we're near camp

with its safety and joys."

The trail was now trending

down into the valley

On toward the stream

that fed the bright lake,

They sauntered along

with no thought of a rally

When a volley of rifles

the forest did wake.

A dozen young fellows

some dead and some wounded,

Went down at that fire

on green Groveland hill,

The survivors discovered

that they were surrounded

'Twas each man for himself

"cut your way with a will."

Just seven reached camp

how they did was a wonder

Boyd, and Parker a sergeant, both captive were made,

The foe scalped the dead

and securing the plunder

Back to Littlebeardstown

a swift march was made.

To Brandt the great chieftain the young men were taken

And safety was promised

to Boyd by the sign

Of the order that ne'er

leaves a brother forsaken

But holds all it's members

in friendship benign.

A call from a courier

led Brandt from the village,

When Butler the Tory

took Boyd's case in hand

Incensed and chagrined

at Sullivan's pillage

He brutally questioned

and made a demand,

That the captives should tell him the army's intention,

Give the number of men,

of cannon, of horse,

And, failing to tell

there'd be no intervention

Twixt them and the stake

without slightest remorse. Thay-en-dan-egea's promise

gave Boyd full reliance,

Not the least information could Butler obtain,

His questions and threats

were met with defiance,

And the proud Tory leader

repeated again

His warning to give up the scouts to his warriors

Who thirsted for vengeance

and longed for the chance

To wreak on the captives

those fierce primal horrors

The stake and the faggot

the death song and dance.

Boyd and Parker still clung

to the hope of protection

With confidence born

of the heyday of youth

Their patriot blood

likewise felt the injection

Of fealty to country

to comrades, to truth.

True to his nature, to his threatenings true
The Tory chief as heartless as the "brave"
Who, watching for the sign that was his clue,
Saw Butler make it, then a whoop he gave.

The waiting red men with triumphant shouts
Rushed on their victims like a mighty scourge
Dragged to their fire the intrepid scouts

And made their torture song their funeral dirge.

They met their death (and such a death)
Like brave men fighting side by side,
And history speaks low with bated breath
When she recounts how Boyd and Parker died.

This was the end of Sullivan's campaign,

It marked an epoch in our nation's life,

Peace on the border quietly did reign,

And chance was given for the greater strife.

When peace at last spread cut her generous wings

O'er all the nation, a republic free,

Back came these men of war with wives and household things

And settled in this country of the Genesee.

Today their prosperous descendants make

A virile host, a power in the land,

The Seneca is gone, but sweet Conesus lake

Is just the same, with hills, and woods, and strand.

As when, upon that bright September morn
Along the slope above her waters head
That little band of scouts, ensnared, forlorn
Gave up the quota of their country's dead.

TOWN REPORTS

AVON

Mr. President and Members of the Society: Henry Thomas Buckle teaches that history is not a collection of dates, names of battles or names of generals. He also teaches that battles, kings, law-makers, writers and founders of religion, are more or less accidental products of the human race, and that all power is in the current of human thought and ambition.

Heretofore, I have taken much pride in making record of the biggest accomplishments of Avon, such as electrifying the railroad, building shops and factories, erecting school houses, bank buildings, roadway and railway bridges over the river, and other large structures, but have paid very little attention to "the current of human thought and ambition" of the people of my community.

It is now generally agreed that those physical agents by which the human race is most powerfully influenced, are climate, soil, food and the general aspect of nature, and the more excellent those agents in a given land or territory, the more prosperous and happy must the people become, and the more enlightened and refined must be their civilization.

Avon has all those agents in a large degree.

Its climate, not being exceedingly hot nor exceedingly cold, and the air salubrious, the result is a decidedly vigorous and energetic people imbued with an ambition to do and to achieve something worth while.

It being in the very center of the Genesee and Dunkirk series of soils capable of sustaining the widest range of farming industry of any soil in western New York and adapted to the production of food cattle, hay, wheat, oats, beans, peas, apples, peaches, pears, plums, cabbage, celery, lettuce, onions and about every other vegetable, with highly intelligent, up-to-date, enterprising and efficient farmers, the soil is all that could be desired, and the production of a large per cent. of lifesustaining food value is assured.

It is recognized by celebrated travelers and careful and competent observers that Avon is one of the beauty-spots of the Genesee Valley. With its wide slope to the river, its great, handsome trees, groves and strips of woods, broad fields, rippling brooks, romantic glens, elegant drives, delightful prospect across and up and down the valley, and its splendid sunsets, "the general aspect of nature" is such as to powerfully influence my people for the largest activities of life and for the greatest good.

In addition to those activities along the different lines of life that