The Lawrence was anchored in Misery Bay, in the harbor of Erie, maimed and battered and scarcely able to float, yet having on board her precious freight brought across the lake; Perry now visited this ship, and as he reached her blood-stained deck and beheld his surviving comrades and thought of those who had been in the fight, that were not then on board, he reverently raised his hands in fervent supplication to Him who giveth the victory not always to the strong, to heal the wounds, and bless, and raise up, the sufferers around him; and to sustain and help the widows and orphans the battle had made; and in thanksgiving for the preservation of those who had survived the conflict unhurt. He then returned to the shore to meet the vast concourse of people awaiting his arrival. The dead and the disabled men, the dismounted guns and the broken and tattered ships, told the story of the battle and the price of the victory with more eloquence than the most brilliant imagination could compass. These visible evidences of the strife for the mastery indicated the valor and the woe, incident to the ordeal which had been passed, with an energy and pathos which overpowered the most obdurate will; and the multitude greeted Harrison and Perry with tears and smiles,— rain in sunshine with a heartiness that language is too poor and barren to describe. The living had earned their title to everlasting gratitude, and the dead had fallen as the brave desire to fall, at the post of duty and on the field of victory.

Perry now procured the parole and release of Barclay, and after arranging for his absence started eastward on his journey home; but his progress was everywhere obstructed by evidences of the gratitude of his countymen for his great action. On Monday, the 15th of November, attended by the faithful crew that rowed him to the Niagara, he arrived in Newport, by way of the south-ferry. Here, he was received upon his arrival in a manner alike worthy of his neighbors and friends and of himself.

August 23d, 1819, at the age of thirty-four, he died of yellow fever, at Port Spain in the Island of Trinidad. His remains were brought to Newport in a government ship, and were interred December 4th. 1826. They were conducted to their final resting place by a funeral cortege such as up to that time had never been equalled and since that time has here never been surpassed.

This is but a glance at the man, and the event to which we are here to-day to rear this tribute of our gratitude. There are other names and other figures that come up to view in the memory and gather around the name of Perry, of men who were efficient auxiliaries in the conflict, shared the dangers, and participated in the glory of the battle of Lake Erie, and who are inseparably connected with that event.

Turner, Taylor, Champlin, Almy, Breese, Brownell, and the acting fleet surgeon Parsons were from Rhode Island; Forest, Brook, Stevens, Hambleton, Yarnell and others not less distinguished, were from other states; and the gallant commander of the northwest-army, and his comrades in arms, whom Perry accompanied to the field on the 5th of October, in the battle of the Thames, where Perry's victory was made complete by driving the organized forces of the enemy from upper Canada, are deserving of our remembrance to-day.

To your Excellency the Governor, representing the people of Rhode Island; To your Honor, the Mayor, representing the people of Newport :

The Committee charged with the duty of providing and erecting this statue of Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry, has performed the work committed to it, and through you dedicate it to the people of the State, and of this city you represent, It is not for the committee to comment upon the as the result of its labors.

statue which has been formed and erected under its direction, but with great satisfaction the artist's finished work is submitted to the candid criticism of all who are capable of forming an intelligent judgment upon its merits. Take the statue for those whom you represent, let it be kept as a cherished treasure by the people of the State at large, and especially by the people of the city of Newport. Let no vandal hand deface the monumental bronze. Let it stand defying the wastes of time and the power of the elements, keeping pace with history in its march through coming ages in recalling to each succeeding generation the man and the event which this statue is designed to commemorate, ever inspiring the young to patriotism, and solacing the aged with the reflection that a grateful people properly appreciate and appropriately reward their benefactors, Let the ideal Perry shadow the passer-by and from its high pedestal apparently cast a glance at each beholder, which shall penetrate and permeate his mind and heart, and possess him completely with the noble and generous purpose, and lofty soul which animated Perry on the occasion which the artist has undertaken to represent him.

A MODEL INDUSTRIAL CITY.

BY FANNY M. JOHNSON.

ON a sweeping curve of the Connecticut river, about twelve miles north of the Massachusetts and Connecticut boundary line, is the modern manufacturing city of Holyoke, with a present population of 30, 000. It is the most extensive paper making city in the world, and the manufacture of paper is but one of many

enterprises. The ceaseless water-power of the great river turns the wheels of numerous industries which, within the third of a century, have been located here

and have transformed a sparsely settled rural parish into a busy and populous city. Holyoke is a New England growth. It does not resemble the smoky cities. of the iron regions, nor the languid towns of the South. The swift, powerful current of water does its work without confusion, smoke or waste. Pure breezes sweep along the valley through the mountain rifts, and the mountains serve as barriers to ward off heavy gales and destructive tempests. The slope of the land toward the river gives opportunity for healthful drainage, and the vicinity of mountain springs and reservoirs supplies a great requisite for a thickly settled city. The impression which Holyoke makes

upon its visitors is of modern thrift and growth. Travellers by railway who enter the city from the north, look with interest at the great dam, crossing the river from the Holyoke to the South Hadley Falls shore. Rounding the curve, the large brick buildings, spires and chimneys of the city come suddenly into view, the tall tower of the granite city hall rising high above the rest. The buildings are modern in structure and architecture. Little is found here that

bears the moss and rime of age.

Less than forty years ago, when the

THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH.

railroad was still a novelty in the Connecticut Valley, a party of capitalists came to view the water-power along the rocky bed of the Connecticut River at the point called the Great Rapids, or Falls of South Hadley, which extended over a mile and a half and had a total fall of 60 feet. The volume of water was gauged and found to aggregate a power equal to 30,000 horse-power. This was in 1847. The next Legislature was petitioned by Thomas H. Perkins, Geo. W. Lyman, Edmund Dwight and others for an act of incorporation as the Hadley Falls Company, "for the purpose of constructing and maintaining a dam across the Connecticut River, and one or more locks and canals in connection with said dam; and of creating a water power to be used by the said corporation for manufacturing articles from cotton, wood, iron, wool and other materials, and to be sold to other persons and corporations, to be used for manufacturing or mechanical purposes and also for the purposes of navigation." The capital stock was fixed at $4,000,000. The Hadley Falls Company purchased the property and franchise of the South Hadley Falls Locks and Canal Company, and extinguished the fishing rights existing above the location of the dam.

In the year 1847, this territory embraced by the river-curve had fourteen. houses, a grist-mill and one little shop. There was also a small cotton-mill. From the river, the land rises to the westward, and a mile or more back, on the highway leading from Northampton to Springfield, were two hamlets of farmhouses. Many of these are still standing and are all that this very modern city can show as memorials of a past generation. From the year 1786 the section had

been known as "Ireland or Third Parish of West Springfield." It had its two little white meeting-houses, Baptist and Congregational, a modest academy of learning, a country tavern, and its full quota of New England customs, traditions and ideas. Nine daily stages passed over this highway. Families moving from one river-town to another usually transported their goods by the flat-boats on the river.

Many of the homesteads had been in the same family name for generations. Ely, Chapin, Day, Ball, Rand, Humeston and Street were some of the names of early settlers handed down with the family acres from father to son, and their graves crowd the rural cemetery beyond the Baptist Village in the southern outskirts of Holyoke. The name of Chapin abounded most on the East side of the river along the fair meadows of "Chicopee Street." In the first church built there all but eleven of the forty-three original members bore the name of Chapin. On the West side of the river the Elys were most numerous. The oldest house now standing in Holyoke was an Ely homestead. The farm was held in the family for generations and was the home of Enoch Ely, a revolutionary soldier. He fought in the war of the Colonies against Great Britain, and afterwards took a part in the short-lived Shay's Rebellion to resist the taxes imposed after the war. Party spirit was hot and high, and in the rout of the insurgents Ely took to the woods and remained in hiding while the commander of the pursuing party, gratified his feelings by firing bullets into the front doors of Ely's house. These old double-doors with the bullet marks showing in them were replaced by new ones some years ago, but the original doors still exist in a small dwelling-house on the Plains.

The last of the Elys to occupy this stout-built old house were four spinster and bachelor brothers and sisters. After their death the homestead went to a relative and eventually was bought by its present occupant, Mr. Horace Brown. Long before this change took place. Whig. Federal and Tory had gone to their last rest, and they sleep peacefully together in the old burial-ground overlooking the river; their differences ended, their feuds forgotten.