Some time in the spring of 1750, the old trader, whose name has now escaped our memory, received a pressing invitation to visit Standing Stone a day or two before the first full moon in September, as a grand feast was to come off at that time, which would be attended by six or eight tribes. The trader, foreseeing the chance of brisk barter, brought a large quantity of goods from Lancaster, on pack-horses, and arrived a day or two before the sports commenced. He found preparations made for a large company; and he accordingly pitched his tent on the hill, while the wigwams of the Indians stood upon the flat near the mouth of Stone Creek. On the day on which the feast was to commence, the trader was awakened at an early hour by the loud whoops of the savages already arriving to take part in the ceremonies. The day wore on; and when the sun reached the zenith a thousand warriors and their squaws, in their best attire, had gathered upon the greensward. At the hour of twelve o'clock precisely, a chief, whom the trader supposed to be at least a hundred years of age, arose from the ground, while all the rest retained a cross-legged, sitting posture. The trader understood enough of the Delaware language to ascertain that the feast was one which took place every hundred moons, to render thanks to the _Manitou_ for preserving them a great people. After congratulating the different tribes, and welcoming them to this friendly reunion, an immense pipe was brought into the arena, which passed from mouth to mouth, each man taking but a single whiff. Of course the women formed the outer circle, and took no further part in the proceedings than merely looking on. Two half-grown lads followed the big pipe with a small bag of _Kinnikinique_, and ever and anon replenished the bowl. This consumed an hour, during which time there was profound silence. The old sachem then arose, and said the balance of the day would be given up to festivities. The assemblage broke up into small parties, and as each tribe had their medicine-men, musicians, and prophets along, the tum tum of the drum and the wild chant were soon heard, and the dusky sons and daughters of the forest went into the dance of the gay and light-hearted with a thousand times more vigor than the beau and belle of the modern ball-room.