Longwell is in Oil City, Smiley—he represented Clarion county twice in the Legislature—manages the pipe-line at Foxburg, L. H. Smith is in New York and others are scattered or dead. On November twenty-first, 1890, the “Pioneers of Pithole”—among them a number of Swordsmen—had a reunion and banquet at the Hotel Brunswick, Titusville. These stanzas, composed and sung by President Smith and “Alf” Smiley, were vociferously cheered: “’Twas side by side, as Swordsmen true, In Pithole long ago, We met the boys on common ground And gave them all a show. In social as in business ways Our honor was our law, And when a brother lost his grip He on the boys could draw. CHORUS: “We’re the boys, the same old boys, Who were there in sixty-five; If any Swordsman comes our way He’ll find us still alive. “What if grim age creeps on apace, Our souls will ne’er grow old; We will, as in the Pithole days, Stand true as Swordsmen bold. In those old days we had our fun, But stood for honor true; Here, warmly clasping hand-to-hand, Our friendship we renew.” “Spirits” inspired four good wells at Pithole. One dry hole, a mile south-east of town, seriously depressed stock in their skill as “oil-smellers.” An enthusiastic disciple of the Fox sisters, assured of “a big well,” drilled two-hundred feet below the sixth sand in search of oil-bearing rock. He drilled himself into debt and Sheriff C. S. Mark—six feet high and correspondingly broad—whom nobody could mistake for an ethereal being, sold the outfit at junk-prices. [Illustration: ALFRED W. SMILEY.]