[10]One year later a Hook and Ladder company was organized, with George W. Dunlap Jr., as Captain, and W. H. Wherritt and Theodore Currey as Lieutenants. [11]A new Deposit Bank building was erected during the summer of 1874. CANTO XII. 1874. PAX VOBISCUM. Nigh a hundred years are buried, In the endless sweep of ages, Nigh a total centenary Hangs its harp upon the willow, Since the rude log-cabin era, When the city on the hillside Was preempted by the stranger, By the stranger surnamed Paulding; Since the pioneer council Came to "Watty" Dunn's old spring, and Met in caucus and selected A foundation for their court-house: Chose a green and ample clearing Near the well-known Wallace cross-roads. Here alone in "God's first temples," Here with nature's wild communing, Henry Clay, a youthful trav'ler Through the wilderness, surprised them; Found the little band assembled, Paused, and shared their noonday luncheon. Thus beheld Kentucky's hero, The domain of future triumphs, Thus his eyes beheld the section, Destined soon to make him famous. And the pioneer council, All unconscious of his greatness, Bade their stranger guest a welcome To the tangled, gloomy woodland, Bade him break the loaf of faring, Bade him eat the salt of friendship. Then they pointed out the clearing, Where the building should be fashioned, Thus the ground was consecrated, In the statesman's august presence; Thus a halo of true glory Hung about the rude log court-house. 'Twas the first judicial movement In the city of Lancaster, 'Twas an impetus that prompted The erecting many houses, 'Twas the gath'ring of a people, A community of workers. Could the story of each household, In the city on the hillside, Be translated for my canto. For the ditty I am singing, Many a wail of grief and sorrow, Many a sigh of hope defeated, Many a smile of sweet fruition, Schemes for profit and for pleasure, Plans of varied speculation, Schemes and plans of thought and action, Would unfold their pages to us, Would reveal their secrets to us. Could the history unwritten, Of each hearth and home be given, Then I trow, the world of fiction, With its brilliant, stirring pages, With its "marvelous traditions," With its plots and strange denouements, With its tragedies unnumbered, And its comedies prolific---- Well I trow this world of fiction, Would be "light and airy nothings," In the scale of real pictures, By the light of life so earnest, Of the suffering and doing, Of the daring and enduring, We should find imparted to us. Could we lift the mystic curtain, From the holiest of holies, From the sacred, inner temple Of each soul's unseen communion, We should gather, we should garner, Many lessons full of profit, Lessons long and full of wisdom.