In its issue of October 2, 1795, appeared the celebrated diplomat's Acrostic. Aimable philosophe au printemps de son âge, Ni les temps, ni les lieus n'altèrent son esprit; Ne cèdent qu' à ses goûts simples et son étalage, Au milieu des deserts, elle lit, pense, écrit. Cultivez, belle Anna, votre goût pour l'étude; On ne saurait ici mieux employer son temps; Otsego n'est pas gai--mais, tout est habitude; Paris vous déplairait fort au premier moment; Et qui jouit de soi dans une solitude, Rentrant au monde, est sur d'en faire I'ornement. In affectionate remembrance of Miss Cooper the hill just northwest of Cooperstown was named for her, and "Hannah's Hill" commands one of the town's finest views. In the quiet shades of Christ's Church yard "belle Anna" rests beneath a slab bearing some lines by her father, but not her name. The August before this sad event Judge Cooper gave the first of the many "lake parties" that floated over Otsego--"which no waters can rival." In the fairness of her youth Miss Hannah was there with her little sister, later Mrs. Pomeroy; and also, among the gay "five and twenty friends from Philadelphia," were their brothers. Indian canoes and flat-bottomed skiffs conveyed them to the eastern shore, where, at Two-Mile Point, a frightened fawn, startled from its forest home by the dogs of Shipman the hunter,--who later outlined "Leatherstocking,"--darted from the leafy thicket and plunged into the lake. At once all were in motion to rescue the little creature now swimming for life. It was successfully brought to land and became a great pet with Judge Cooper's children; but one day, frightened by strange, fierce dogs, it bounded into the forest depths for refuge, and never returned. The centennial anniversary of this first picnic was celebrated by the third and fourth generation of Judge Cooper's descendants, who met at Point Judith to honor the occasion. Of the verses written by Mr. George Pomeroy Keese concerning this event two are: [Illustration: POINT JUDITH.] And one hundred years have come and gone Since our country then was new, And now we keep in memory dear Our love for the good and true. To one who came to his forest home And gave to our village its name; To the son, the touch of whose magic pen Has lifted to world-wide fame.