^ 144 
 .L8 W58 
 
Class 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 
 
IN THE TIME 
 
 MATTHIAS BRAKELEY, 
 
 (i 730-1 796) 
 
 OF LOPATCONG. 
 
 WHITE. 
 
IN 'II I H TIMI-: 
 
 oi- 
 
 Matthias Brakkley, 
 
 (1 730- 1 796) 
 
 OF LOPATC OXC. 
 
IX IMF, 11 Ml-: 
 
 OK 
 
 MATTHIAS BRAKKLKY, 
 
 (1730-1796) 
 OI' LOPATCCJXC, 
 
 HY 
 
 / 
 
 (".i-;()R(.i' i',R.\KHi.i:\ wiiriii 
 
 "Tlii-^ forni.il fool, your man, s])cak< n.ui^lit hut pro\crhs, 
 Aiui speak men u liat they can to him, Ijc'll answer 
 W'itli some rh\-me-rotten sentence-, or old sayiniL^, 
 Such sjjokes as ye ancients of )• parisli use-.' 
 
 The Ti^o Aui^rii Women of Abiii;:;i(i>;i. 
 
 POKTEK, I59'J. 
 
 PiiiiUil for Priviilt Disf>il>iilioii. 
 
'^v^ 
 
 <-v^ 
 
 V 
 
 EnteiL-a ISSS. acc.t, 
 
 c-., Ill Uk (iftitc uf the Librarian of Ciig 
 I! WIIITK, 
 
 Sill KM AN ;. 
 
F R li F AC r.. 
 
 TX one of the siccct valleys nestling at the foot of the Bine Monntains. where 
 the traditions of a roniantu-k foretime still linger, rises the />!e7nrest/ne 
 stream '..vhieh the Lenni-Lena/>es named [.opateong. Rif^pling and murntur- 
 ing softly. It meanders through cultivated fields and verdant pastures, present- 
 ing a rare secne of quiet, pastoral beauty. Ihe environing hills shut out the 
 I'USY li'orld -oith its turmoil and rare and eommonplaee. Land and people of 
 the Olden Time! 
 
 In this pie7ures(/ue and legendary region lies the fiir demesne of 
 r>rakelev. About the aneestral manor-house, irregularly built, eluster many ot 
 the cherished memories of mv early youth. Hither I loas ',vont to come :vhen 
 the breath of spring-time was upon the land, cud the -violets and eroeuses 
 bloomed in the old garden and the air was laden with the perfume of apple- 
 blossoms, or when the fielils, far and :oide, :v:re golden with the full-ripe 
 harvest. My great-aunt would eome with me. To her these scenes were very 
 dear, reeallii g a by gone generatom -.vhom she remembered kindly. 
 
 'J he -vie:v is bounded by hill and va/e. .1 small brook, ever springing, 
 jlo:os through the demesne and hard by the manor-house. It rises in the low 
 line of hills, the western barrier of the valley, and hurries down to mingle its 
 waters with the I^opatcong stream.* Xo:o it sparkles for an instant in the 
 bright sunlight, ntno it steals by in the shadoio of hoary trees, forever babbling 
 and telling I wis not of. Peradventure, some tender reminiseenee of the I.enni- 
 I.enapes or sonif love episode of a Ihakeley if long ago is the burden of its 
 tale, or not unlikely it inveighs against the discordant whistle of the iron-horse 
 anil the outlandish inventions of modern times. The birds love this i/ueru- 
 lous, old-fashioned brook and the old trees and the old house and the neglecled 
 garden. 
 
 Redolent of a bv-gone age is the place and the surroundings. — ('/' the time 
 of Matthias Ihakeley ( i-y.'.- 1 ji/i), and the troublous period of the Old French 
 
 War. 
 
 * 'I/u- onvi- is FiiiJ to h.t-.c i;-nt iiiii.i'i t.i'x,', ,,ii. irii//,-, iiit Ja'vi .sliii;^ Ihc tout 'i.i'. 
 (■/rJ.;Av/ lo leiiii.f llic -.■otiiuie <>/ //> r.-ii/:/ .. . /.' h '.-.' •!i^ii/;'',:ir.. hi n iinl: hole on Ihr .oiit'u-in 
 h loi.liiry of t lie lihiU' <iiui tliciuo lloioilli; u>l,i,-r.;iotii!,i hiii: thf .;i\\ilfi •tioaiil. 
 
( vi ) 
 ll'ar. In ihc ihar)iied circle before the bhr-Ju:- licartli, I liare lived in that 
 Oiiici! Tune. /■>/// ivell I k>u>:^' tliat liere is a favoKrilc haunt of fairy sprite. 
 Mad Jack Ihakelcy loves these shadoivy prceincls. 1 he dim figure of the 
 Gray Witeit is seen jlittiiiy; by. I hear, b<riie on the night blast, the ribald 
 merriuieiit of the Pirate Creio. 
 
 Age of easy faith and honest, God-fearing folk ! In my early boyhood, 
 the storyteller spoke of this foretime in I.t>patcoug, and 1 listened rapt, bathing 
 in its legends and stii-ring past . For nie, indeed, I confess that these simple 
 fireside tales hai'c lent to the history of this region an tunoonted fascination 
 and investcil it loith a glamour of romance. 
 
 G. B. IV. 
 
CON rr: x'l s. 
 
 I. — lii)- l.AM Minni:sin(.[:k 
 
 II. — A r iiiK Imki -ii>i. 
 
 III. — Oi.n Cr^roM- \ni> Sii'i.k^ i i iuin-. 
 
 IV. .\ KUKM'AI; (IF niK Sl'.\-ON- IN I .' i|'.\ IXONI i 
 
IN Tlin 11. MI' 
 
 OF 
 
 iMAT'I'llIAS BRAKl-:iJ-:V (1730 i /(/,), 
 
 OF LOFArCoXC. 
 
 I I'. 
 
 AST M I \ \ i:s I X c, i-: r 
 
 We lliink ..ui futile.^ f., .Is -,, «i,c we i;r.,-A 
 I Uir wi-e ^cii^ no i!..u1j!, will tl.iii'. Us <■>, 
 
 IN the Oldcn Time of I,opaU-oni,% sevcr.il ininin-siin^'ci^ attaiiu-i an envi- 
 able reputation, and tlieir lame still linijrred in the latter and de,;enerate 
 days. The most notalile, perhaps, was Joliann l^i-rL;er. Despite many 
 fri\-olities, his i;ieat leai'nini; ,ind re\erence for the customs and supersti- 
 tions of the |-".it]iers and his steadflist opposition to e\-er_\- innm'ation have 
 won my love antl adniir.ilion. Will not these virtues suffiee, too. with you, 
 j^entle reader, espeeiaily if like- m\-self enamoured of that foretime, to on- 
 done the- levit)- of his charaeter? 
 
 The mantle of worth)- Master ]V-ri;er descended upon Ileiiirich 
 Hr.uhtli. The rehitionship existini; between Mr. Hrakel<-y and him-e!f is 
 not po^iiixfly Icnown, hut probablv he was ,i ei>usin wh.) had come over the 
 seas just after the h'renih ,ind Indian War. He courted prelt\- Harl).ira 
 Klein, of one of the old (a-rui.in families of the v.dle\-, but whether they 
 wed is also unkno\sn. Ind;.!_'d, the ])articulars of his life are meagre s.ivc 
 that he died yount,r, deeply uiom-ned in the little communily ()neof his 
 poetical effusions m,i\' not pro\-e uninteresting^, althouL;h I am conscious 
 that his numbers lose much <T their melody in the transkilion : 
 
( 2 ) 
 
 Fl (■ K I.K l; A R B A R A. 
 
 I'le^Ii and vcr.l.ml ;in; llif viuudj ami licl.ls, 
 l...v,M l.y April -.111., an.l ,li,i-,veis — 
 JovMudy ran.l iIr- mevry l,ir.l.— 
 ria:.;i..nl an.l fail the openint; tl.nvcrs. 
 
 liail.ara l..ves these fragrant llowcrs, 
 N'uilurnl unseen liy fairy hands, 
 Rarliara knows these shady bowers — 
 \\ ddwood ,lells in fairy lands. 
 
 lleie is our nieet and tr\sling-plaee, 
 Here 1 weave and learn my fate, 
 Tuneful l.irds sini; a inadiigal— 
 Aniourous birds tli.U too and mate. 
 
 Sonietiines 'tis sunshine overliead. 
 Sometimes the skies are overeast, 
 Tlius ine<ui^tant is woman, I trow. 
 Sunshine and shad..w— neuliei last. 
 
 IJalhed ill the niist^ of early spring, 
 liarbara's frowns, like April showers, 
 Each succeed — each pass a\\aY — 
 iiaibara's smiles, like Aprd llowers. 
 
 My great-aunt never forga\-e liis persinagc and tlic lightness with 
 wliich lie was wont to speak of the fair sex. .Slie al\va)'s insisted that he 
 was no minnesinger at all, but an idle \'ounger smi of the family who would 
 liavr- lieen mucli better emplo_\-ed a-pli iw ing sueh tine weather than \-erse 
 m.dcing 
 
 Mr. lir.ikele)' himsidf was a delightful rdcoir/ciir ; ami in his narrative 
 oltl .igr, when tile niaiiiiers and customs of the I'atlu'rs began to pas.s awaj', 
 he Uvved to relate trailitions of the foretime and reminiscences of his own 
 iventlui life. 
 
 l\iidne\-, ton, had learned something nf the storyteller's art from his 
 master IK' w.is such .i true beliiver in spoi iks ami witclies ! After .Mr. 
 I>ral^ele)-s death, he nsu.illy made hini the authnrity lor his nii.jsl rcm.irk- 
 able tales, which enibelli^heil b_\' his exuberant tanc)- were sadly in neecl ^A 
 si:p|ii)it. To ail}' tldiibts prdpotmdLiI, he invariabl}' answered, " Massa 
 liiak'ley, sail, sayd so." lUit it was, imleed, a new and alarming sign ot 
 the tiiins, ominous ofc\il d.iys to Come, when the minnesinger's laitli began 
 to be qiiestiomd and the oKl Icgi-nds lost their hold upon the [)opidar 
 affef liens. 
 
 Tile 
 
TliL" last iif the true race of minnesiiiijers was Conra.l Suiiv^er, u li.):n 
 ai^eil folk may yet reinemher. lie was a t^ond old man. ami their recollec- 
 tions of him must needs he kindly, lie loved the manners and customs 
 which ohlamed in the lime of Matthias Hrakeley ( 1 730-1 796). He de- 
 lit;hteil to recount the history and traditions of the past. Hut he couM not 
 conceal from himself the fact that the lleetin.L; years had wrought a won- 
 drous change in Loi)atcon;4, and the old C.erman life-, which he exto'led so 
 highl_\-. was wellnight spent. 
 
 The influence of the Scotch-Irish i.art>- was in the ascendant. '1 he 
 Knglish language began to be univer.sally spoken,— but Conrad Swinger 
 never spoke a word of it! Quaint superstitions of mediiuval origin were de- 
 spised. I-"e.stivals consecrated by immemorial usage were neglerled. 1 he 
 membership and finances of the Straw Church .s.mk to the lowest ebb: lor 
 the founders had passed away and the younger generation heeded not their 
 godly example. Alas, that they who would have perpetuated the traditions of 
 a sober and honest life were no more ! The prophets, do tiie)- live forever ? 
 
 In the year 1S05, (ieorge! the onl>- son of Matthias Brakeley ( I7j'.>- 
 I79^)», arrived m the valley and succeeded lo h;s estate. Hi> grace-, of mind 
 and jjcrson .md his engaging manners rendered him deservedly popular, 
 whilst over the fortunes of his ancient famil>- the legends of the foretime 
 shed a poetick and rom.uitick glamour. The minnesinger hailed him a^ the 
 apostle of a n /;,!issiimrimd hoped that his life-longings might be comiXl■^^e<l 
 by the ability and zeal of his //v/,V<'. .Magnificent dreamer! He would 
 install the son in the fathers honoured place in tlie little community, and 
 revive, ere it be too late, the old life of Lr,p,,tcong. 
 
 There were mysterious conferences after the ser\-ices at the Straw 
 Church amongst the heads of the old German lamilies. Conrad Swmger was 
 all atn'ivity. lie scarcely ate or slept, and ihrougliout the week his quaint 
 little figure might be seen Hitting from house to house on some secret mis- 
 sion. Rumour, many tongued, whispered that a nefarious plot wa-, hatcli- 
 ing, which would stir I.opatcong to its depths. 
 Hut how ? 
 
 The land troubles .again! The (icrm ins. it w.is s.iid, proposed in' <//.•> 
 :iW-;v^«A' proceedings to reclaim the estates which the cr.ilty Scotch-Irish 
 had filched from them in the last centur.v. Hut sut h w.is not the f.icl. 1 he 
 gentle minnesinger sought only to reclaim ,1 virtue which he felt h.ul gone 
 out from amongst them. Yes, he would call b.ick tin- old lite of their fore- 
 fathers,— their rare morality an<l simplicity I lie would deal gently even 
 with their sui)erstitions, because it was part ot that oUi lile. 
 
 It 
 
( 4 ) 
 
 It tr.iiis])iicd that the object of the minnesinger's mission and tlie 
 cnusc of this unwonted acti\ity amongst the Germans was in inaugurate a 
 series of grand enteitainments in the st\'le of tlie < )lden Time. It was de- 
 cided that the first shoukl be a Circle-Hunt, and the meet was appointed t<i 
 take place on tlic ]>rakeley estate. The Scotch-Irish watched with no little 
 curi('sit)' the goodl)- throng of young anil old, attired in tlie quaint costumes 
 of former times, who gathered there earl)' one October mcirmng to parlici- 
 i;ate in the revels. Conrad Swingei' was radiant. He discoursed with his 
 fiddle the most stirring strains of musick. The hunters examined carrfully 
 tlie flint-locks of their guns. The wnman folk busied themselves with pre- 
 parations lor the su])[.)er which woul'J Conclude the day's sport. But first 
 the minnesinger deli\'ered a brief allocution tiescribing the famous circle- 
 hunts which took place in the glorious foretime. 
 
 The hunters se]jarated widely, and the whole valley was soon en- 
 circletJ with a cordiin of armed men. The)- then gradually advancet] to a 
 given pijint and shouted and halloed with all their strength, that the game 
 large and small might be surrounded in a smaller space as the circle nar- 
 ro\' ed. Conratl .Swinger hastened along, encouraging all. He had caught 
 glim[)ses of bear and deer and wild turke_\' within the rapidly contracting 
 hues. The e.vcitement grew apace. 
 
 Hut how delusive oftentimes are our most san;.;uine expeetati<ins ! 
 The liunters were chagrined to find that the magick circle contained no 
 other game th;m— a sow and litter of pigs! The' ban(]ue-t was eaten in 
 silenee ant] each went his wa}-. Such was the nielanchol)- end of the last 
 Circle-Hunt in Lopatcong. 
 
 This undignified JinaU- fitinished the .Scotch-Irish with numberless 
 gibes .it the expense of their German neighbours. "\'oung Air. Pirakeley 
 was sensible of the lidicule ])rovoked by his vain attempt to habit the 
 present in .intit|ue garb. 1 le acipiiesced [lerforce in the result and Laid .iside 
 his tie-wig and short-clotlu s. The ( )ld and the New, as typified in the two 
 nalionalilies, had nut in nioital strife ,ind the day v/as lost. 
 
 I'allietick, indeed, was the minui-singer's lamentation mer the ileca- 
 dence of the good old times ,ind of the manners and customs of the Germ.ni 
 torefathers in Lop.iteong. The younger generation no longer listened with 
 i-apt attention to his t.iies; his l.iys no longer awakened the wliihim enthu- 
 siasm. I'ooi' old Conrad .Swinger ! Mournful relict of an age and people 
 tliat [)ass awa)- ! 
 
 AT 
 
AT 1" H !■: F I R i: S I I) 1". 
 
 Ill winter'^ tcliuus i 
 With "oo.l old folk, 
 
 -III. sit l.y tlic (lie 
 
 lul let them tell thee I:>le 
 
 — Sll.\Ki>i-KAi;i:. 
 
 ( \W-. of the nio-^t captivating features of the old h'fe of Lopatcong was the 
 eonsideiation shown for the niiiinesiiiLjer's \ocalion. I lis simple 
 strains never fiiled to please and his hoiiul)- narrati\es beguiled the tedium 
 of the v.iiiter niyht. Wwsjnipers were almost unheard of in those early 
 tinier, and e\en bouk>, other than of a relij^iuiis eharai-ter, were rare. There 
 \\a> one nolabk- exception to this general dr.irlh of literature. At the old 
 l'>raki-k-y manor-llolI^e, undisturbed in a dci'i) r.cc-ss of the great h.dl. were 
 ponderous tomes treating of historj- and siniplis ami the occult arts, — the 
 collection of some scholarly Hrakeley of a by-gone generation, — ^nd 1 )r 
 Luther's liible in huge folio, and some r.ire m.ips and charts; but the 
 Nounger members of the fimily f umd tlii-^ antique lore uninteresting enough 
 and turned with avidity to the more lively tales narrated at the fne-itle. 
 
 'Ilie traditions of the foretime thus orally handed down were highly 
 fl.ivoiired with the supernatural. Ihere were goblins and witches in Lo|)at- 
 cong in those days, which all had seen and knew about, and the legends ot 
 Mad lack Hrakeley or o'' the (iray Witch, fibulous as they may appear 
 nowada\-s, e.xcited no captious criticism nor ))rovoked the shadi^w o( a 
 doubt as to their verity. l-"orlunate, indeed, would I esteem it could I meet 
 in the present generation with something of the siniple and unimiiiiring 
 fiith of our ancestors ! 
 
 Till- 
 
( 6 
 
 The Jesum' Mismox. 
 
 In tlie caih' centuries of the discover}- and settlement of the New 
 World there were no more self- devoted and efficient instruments of civiliza- 
 tion than tlie Icsiiit missionaries who sought to convert and subdue savage 
 nations b\' the gentler arts of peace. Their influence was widespread in 
 this northein region and their zeal and craft enabled them to acquire un- 
 boLulded sway over the untutored Indians who ever spoke of tiieni with 
 respect and admiration. The I.cttrcs-luiifiantcs are an interesting account 
 of abnriginal manners and customs and a noble monument of their abun- 
 dant success. 
 
 .Sometime posterior to the year 1683, a company of French Jesuits 
 established a mission in the valle\'. The Brakeley fimily had departed 
 thence, with the exception of Mad Jack, who dwelt alone in the old maiior- 
 liduse. The gootl fathers selefted an eligible site and with the aid nf their 
 Indian converts constructed of hewn logs a chapel and school, ilere they 
 remained a few years, — how long is imknown. Certainly they were gone 
 in 1705, when George Brakeley (1G87-17V,)) arrived in Lopatcong- 
 
 A theme so romantick and rich in exciting incident as the Jesuit 
 Mission Was nut ni_'glecT:e(.l by the stor\-teller of the < )lden Time, and many 
 were the tales relating to this event nai'rated at the firesi(_le. Matthias 
 Brakeley (1730-179'')) was deejily interested in the paiticulars (if their resi- 
 dence in Lopatcong. He listened to the received trailitions and questioned 
 the Indians, and sought to eliminate the fabulous from the real; but imly 
 meagre facts, embellished by the old legends, rewarded his labours. 
 
 ( )ne of the ancient landmarks of Lopatcong which has disappeared 
 since the time when Mr. Brakeley pursued so eagerly his antiifuarian re- 
 searches was a rambling, moss-grown, goblin-haunted pile stantling by the 
 Turnpike road and near where the .Straw Church was afterwarils ereirleil. 
 Authentick traditidus sijoke of this crimibling relic as the Mission-House 
 of the Jesuits and told a str.uige story of the forgotten past. After their 
 departure it remained a long time unoccupietl, — tenanted only by ghostly 
 visitants of whom |)assers-b)' obtained an occasional glimpse. 
 
 In the ruinous Mission-! Iousl-, it w.is [popularly supposed, were secret 
 chamln:rs and sublerrane.ui passages, but Mr. Brakeley 1))' the most inde- 
 fatigable Search could discoxer none. \'et, withal, something mj'sterious 
 
 and 
 
ami supernatural seemed eonnecled with the whole place. The great room 
 was imperfedlv- li<;liteil by several small windows and lloored with large, 
 flat stones. It was a dismal apartment at best, and had probably served as 
 the chapter-room or refectory. At one end was an huge fireplace; and at 
 the other, a rude stairway, hewn from a solid oaken log, led to some small 
 chambers above. Tiiere were also several other buildings detached from 
 the main but connected with it by a passage-way. and hard by still another 
 — perhai)s the cliapel— which had disappeared and onl\- the foundation- 
 stones remainetl. 
 
 Such was the crumbling domicile of the Jesuit Fathers, famous in 
 the storied past of I.opatcong. That it was hauntetl by their re.stless spirit- 
 none doubted. .M r. Hrakeley, Iiimself, has heard in the distance the clear 
 tones of the chapel bells, ringing forth at eventide, and listened rapt to 
 the sweet voices of unsei-n choristers intoning the vesper service. But he 
 notes as a singular f.icT.. explained only by its suiiernatural character, that 
 on approaching nearer the musick becomes fainter and f.iinter, until, on 
 reaching tlie Mission I louse, it has entirely died away. 
 
 The passing years make sail havock with the olil Mission-House. 
 The winter blast unhinges a door or blows in a window, and decay weak- 
 ens the once stout frame-work. The pl.u e is rarely \ Isited even by the 
 cinious. 
 
 Mr. Hr.ikeley records a strange .idventure which befell his servant, 
 Rodney, and himself there. The\- were overtaken one summer evening by ,i 
 .severe storm and i)erforce s.uight shelter in the great room. Whilst st.m<l- 
 ing at the oih'U door, listening to the rolling thunder antl watching the 
 vivid Hashes of lightning, both were affrighted to behold near the Hreplace 
 the d.irk form of the Cobliii Jesuit. The spectre crossed the apartment and 
 slowly ascended the st.ins ; but before tiis.ipjjearing. he turned his p.de, w.in 
 face towards the intrudeis ,md motioned as if admonishing them to depart. 
 
 After man\- ye.irs, the startling rumour spread amongst the good 
 f .!k of Lojiatcong that the whilom aliode of the Jesuits was I.) be occupied 
 ami o|)eni'd u[) as a publick house. 
 
 •• ll.isl thou he.u-d the gossip, neighbour Hrakeley," s.iid one, " that 
 the lesuits ,ire to be banished from our midst to give room lor present enter- 
 tainment ?"" 
 
 •■ 1 nebber will drink th ir," decl.uvd Rodne.v emi>h.iticall\-, and it is 
 
 e.\tremel\- 
 
( s ) 
 
 extremely doubtful if he ever did as dearly as he loved the cup that ine- 
 briates. 
 
 Mr. lirakeley viewed with much displeasure the proposed desecra- 
 tion, as he termed it. He was loth, he contest, to give up the associations 
 connefled with the old Mis.sion. 
 
 The place was known thenceforth as the Straw Tavern. The new 
 pn>prietor was naturally regarded with considerable suspicion in the neigh- 
 bourhood and foll< eyed him askance as he ajjpeai'ed in their midst at church. 
 The evil reputation of his house, as h. united b_\- the goblin Jesuits, kept 
 many away and his custom at iirst w.is extremely small. lUit during the 
 war of the Revolution, it was a popular ;uul well-patronized hostelry ; and 
 at the sign of the Sheaf of Wheat, loyalist and patriot ha\e found good- 
 cheer, for mine ho.st made no distinction pro\ided the reck'oning was 
 promptly paid. 
 
 The 
 
{ 9 
 
 TiiK Ri;\ I'.i \.VK<. 
 
 ConsidcTahl)- more tlian a century lias elapsed since the nielancli^.ly 
 events ol this fort^otten talc of Lopatcon-'. Se\cral versions foiuul fa\Miir 
 amonfjst the stor_\tcllers of the Olden Time, but Mr. IkakeK y'-, narrative 
 seems to mc nio-t \'.orth)' of crctlcnce. 
 
 During the meinorahle winter ..f i-;5-r,,^]it up with the lurid 
 tlames of the l-'rench antl Indian War. — a detachment uf the kint^'s troops 
 awaited in the struggling hamlet at tlie l'"<>rks the arrival of a convoy ol 
 sup])lies from the lower settlements on the Delaware. Large, llat-bottomed 
 boats were employed upon the river in tlmse early da\-s and provided the 
 most expetiitious means of transportation in the unsettled condition of the 
 country. IJut as the l-'orks village was situated at the head of navigation it 
 was neces.sary to convey these .sup]3lies to tlie Minnisink forts beyond by 
 following slowl}- and painfully w ith the ]),ick-liorse the Indian trails thmu.Ji 
 the wilderness. 
 
 I he guaid consistetl of six .soldiers under the command of a \Mung 
 officer. They had been quartered for .several days at the' Red l?ird Ta-, ern 
 and their vices and arrogance already reiuU'red them obnoxious to the 
 honest folk of the neighbourhood. It u.e. therefore with a feeling of relief 
 that the villagers learned of the arrival of the boats and the near departure 
 of the dissolute troo[)v'rs. 
 
 Tiie intense cold of the last fv.w d,i\ s li.ul somewhat mo(K-r.ited. but 
 the dark, leaden clouds and the wind uliieli li.id s;)rmig up from the hlast 
 betokened foul we.illuT. Mme host shook hi. head ominously as ijis guests 
 prepared to quit his comfortable hostelry .\m\ urged them in \ain to t.irry 
 until the morrow. 
 
 The unfortunati- soldiers followed the Iiidi.m trail le.iding iiortliw.u.l 
 through the v,dle_\- ; but the storm so incre.isi:d in violence and d.iikness 
 coming on, tui tlier progress was imjiossible and they determined to pa-s the 
 nigllt in the ruiu'-d Mission-House. Their strength was wellnigh sp._-nt and 
 they were benumbed with cold, but an huge, bl.i/ing fire soon m.ide tlieiu 
 feel more comfortable .md co[)ious draughts of rum cheered their he.irts. 
 They abaniloned themselves to revelry and forgetfulness. 
 
 In the mi(h,t of their wihl orgies, the door of the ap.irtmenl opened 
 noiselessly and a stranger — grim messenger of Deatli — entered, lie wore 
 the dark, monastiek lial)it. and his visage was pale and w.m. Affrighted, the 
 re\ellers arose. .Something in his weird appear.mce ,nid gr.ue tlenuMii. •:!|-, 
 
 ■> s.ivouiing 
 
( lo ) 
 savouiing of the suijcrnatui-al, awed them into silence, and tliey stood regard- 
 ing fixedl)- tlie niownient-^ of the intruder. He adwanced to the board 
 without speal^ing and seizing the flagon of H(]uor held it ahift before the 
 bright light of the fire. 
 
 "Drink I" cried the roistering soldiery, delighted at this convivial 
 sign in their strange guest, and with a maudlin shout, they raised full cups 
 to tlieir lips, "drink, it is Forgetfulness I " 
 
 lUit the Intruder turned abruptly, and as his stern glance met the 
 conipau)- the cups fell untastcd from their lips and a painful silence ensued, 
 broken mily by the fierce wail of the storm and the crackling of the logs in 
 the fireplace. A smile played upon his features as he again uplifted the 
 fl.igon and poured the contents to the last dro[) upon the licarthstone. A 
 stifling vapour arose from the burning liquid, filling the apartment with its 
 deadly fumes. 
 
 The storm abated and the ninrrMW broke clear and cold. The deep 
 snow liad. wellnigh covered the old luin with a winding-sheet, — sepulchre 
 of tlie ilead I .All was silent within, sa\e the wintry blast which whistled 
 through the chinks in the kjgs. The fire on the hearth had burned out. The 
 remains o( the saturnalia were stieued around — the empt)- flagon and the 
 hak'-filled cups. And the Revellers, lifeless and cold, la)' stretched uijon 
 the bare floor of the charnel-house. 
 
 Tin- 
 
( II 
 
 The LKor.xi) oi ll.w- Pii.\t^. 
 
 Oil ilu: lianks of the l)eauliful Delaware, several miles al.njve the 
 I'^orks, rises a sliar[> prDiiiontory, whore the- \\ati.'rs of the stream foi-" ■ a 
 channel through a harrier 'of riigi:;eil hills and flow with iin\'.e]nte(l im- 
 petuosity. A ceMitury ago, it was familiarly Iciiown as I'haU' I'oint, — a 
 localit)- i^opiilarly siipposetl to be liaunted by the fierce pirate, whoe 
 name it bore, and liis lawless compani'iiis. The prndiiil traveller, goiiii to 
 or returning from the settlements lower d'Wii ^n the ri\'er. always took -are 
 to pass the Point b_\- da_\' and if possiljle on the opjjosite side. 
 
 Earl)- in the ijlh century, a jjirate named I lans I'hals — and his n.iine 
 would seem to intlicate that he v.'as of Dutch nationalit)' — -after plundei'ing 
 man}- .Spanisli galleons sought safety from pursuit in the Delaware bay. 
 Tlic fallacious thcor\- then obtained amongst navigatours that by ascending 
 one of the streams which flow into the oiean the great northern waters C' ild 
 be reacluxl and thence arrive at far Cathay. Phals thus concei\ed the inge- 
 nious project of effecting his escape b_\' circumnavigating the country. 
 
 Whilst proceeding up tlie river and when near the Falls of the D^'a- 
 ware, the \essel grounded upon some rocks ,and was \vrecke(L The crew, 
 securing an huge chest containing bars of gold — the --])oils of their piratical 
 voyage, betook themseKes to a boat and endea\'oured with infinite toil to 
 asceni.1 tlie ijicT-uresque stream to its so-arce. At tlie Point a!i unfortunate 
 dispute arose amongst the ])arty. Disheartened 1)\' their severe l.itjour- aad 
 misfortunes, some proposed to turn back, but Phals hi.iiself was determ-n^'d 
 to proceed. A compromise was finall)' .arranged. The former were t > lie 
 at lil)e:ty to put about in the boat and the latter would remain with the 
 treasure. All bivouacked at nightfall in the shelter of the pr.'C;pite)trs 
 ridge, when I'lials, either suspecting treacherv in regard to tlie g"!d or 
 ajiprehensive that his own safety might be imjjeiallcd b_\- the return of his 
 comp.inions, is s.iid to lia\e murdered them in their sleep. The terrible 
 dvi^i] seems to have weigiied \ery lightlv on liis conscience, and h': d' "''t- 
 less regarded it as a \cr)' clever (''('.'/. lie Ijuilt a c.ibin iiiipaediat J\' 
 under the cliff and li\-ed thei'e man\- \-ears afterwaril, unmnleVe.-d by the 
 Indi.uis. 
 
 The chest cont. lining the treasure, the objeU of liis solicitous care, 
 he buried in the dee[) w.iti. r near the Point, where it _\-et rem.iins. ib)W long 
 the <jld pirate lisetl liere and the time and manner of his de.ith tradition does 
 not relate. Si)me foil-. be!ie\-e th.at he -till revisits tin's favourite spot mm] 
 
( 12 ) 
 
 rec'pens 'nis strong-box from time tij time for ]:)ri\'ate inspection. More than 
 an luinelred and fift}' years after the events narrated above, my great-great- 
 grandfather, Matthi.is ]?rakeley (1730-1796), saw this legendary personage 
 and caught a ghinpsc of his ill-gotten gold. 
 
 My Grandfather's Adventure. 
 
 One October day in the last centiir)', Mr. Firakele}', accompanied by 
 hi- servant Rodne)-, had been hunting in the neighborhood of Phals' Point; 
 and night coming on and the distance from home being considerable, they 
 prepared to encamp. This plan had been adopted with great opposition on 
 the part of the superstitious negro. The evil reputation of the place as a 
 favourite resort of goblins was enough to condemn it, and he urged in vain 
 that they quit so dangerous a localit)'. 
 
 It was a matter of some satisfaction to Rodney, as he reflefted upon 
 the foolhardv condu(5t of his master, that the camp lay on the opjiosite side 
 of the river, rather north of the Point, A supper of game \\as partaken of 
 anil ]ire]iarations made for the night's rest ; but as he confest afterward to 
 h s hiend Jaclc, he was too nervous to sleep and kejit an.Kious guard. 
 Towarils midnight his vigil was rewarded b\' seeing a light maile by a 
 pitch-pine torch move ar(jund and up and tlown the nthcr banlc in a most 
 sus;)icious manner. It seemed tei be carried b)' a person in search of some- 
 th.ing — no diiubt by eine of that pestilent crew of pirates! Hastily arousing 
 Mr. ISrakeley, Ik; acquainted him vi'itli his alarming discm'ery. .Sure eni>ugh, 
 tliere was a little, buil)' nld man in a strcUigc and antique garb, standing 
 upon a brciad, flat stone by the water's edge immediately be'low the Point 
 aiid intentl)- examining the pebbly bottom with his flaming light. The 
 tei rnr-stricken negro prepared for precipitate flight, liut his master insisted 
 that they remain to watch the movements of the old [jiiate. 
 
 " .\n' warn't yo' afeared to stay thar, Ivodd}'?" inquired Jack, when 
 the story was told him j'ears afterwards. 
 
 "^^)' can imagin' my ilis'greeable sensations," rciilied Roilney. 
 " W'liv Ise sa\-d, ' Massa ViVAk'liy, i7//i fii' rin'/y irwakr /' and Ise come a 
 might)- nar a-shakin' an' a-l)eatin' him!" lie was frequent!)- inclin.d to 
 inlliet corpor.d i)unishment on his ma-ter !))- wa\- of k-i-eping him out of 
 hai-m. 
 
 I lans 
 
( 13 ) 
 
 11. ms I'luils— Ibr he no doubt it was— slciiii-iI to have foiiiul tlio 
 objca of his seatcli. Carefully Cixiug the ton h in a fis-ure of the rock, he 
 reached ilown into the water and cauc,dit hold ,,f an liea\ y thick cable. He 
 braced himself upon the llat stone and by ^'leat exertion hauled out len-th 
 after leni^'th, which lie coiled in true sailor fashion at his feet. 
 
 •• Come, Massa Hrak'ley," pleaded Rodney, in low tones, " let's l,'o 
 away. Dar am [)o.s'ti\ely nuffin at de end of dat olo rope " 
 
 Contrar)- to Rodney's predictions, a dark object was seen i)resentl\- 
 in the water, provin.; to be aa oaken chest, whicli I'haN towed with the cable 
 and at length succeeded in landing upon the flat stone where he stood. 
 The sinister countenance of the old pirate beamed with pleasure as he lifted 
 tlie hea\y lid and looked w itliin. There safely enough were the shining 
 bars of gold, of which the .Sp.miards had been so cleverly mulaed a couple 
 of centuries ago. Lovingly he recalled those good old days when he and 
 his boon companions— no weak and chicken-hearted men were they !— 
 coursed the .sea in their stout ship with black sails and preyed u|)on rich 
 merchantmen. Then he replaced the lid and again consigned the chest to 
 the keeping of tlie dark waters. 
 
 •Mr. I5rakele_\- and Rodney hastil\- decamped without noting with 
 suftlcient care the direction Hans I'hals took, nor indeetl the e.xaa spot 
 where he deposited his treasure-chest,- a neglect I censure and much 
 deplore. 
 
 Tm; 
 
( 14 ) 
 
 TriE Legend of Calixto. 
 
 l)clo\v th(j Fiiul Rift — a \vil<l and dan^rerous spot — the rivLT Dela- 
 ware eddies and widens into a beautiful lake-like expanse. Cottonwood and 
 maple trees gi-ow luxuriantly on its banks, and beyond the fringe of forest 
 the eounti)' stretches awa)' in fruitful fields and veixlant pastures. On the 
 sunny side of this iiicturesijue water, li\ed a hincly ohJ man named ( )'?da]ly, 
 aboLit the time of the French and Indian War. It was an humble dwelling 
 he had built lor himself here, rudel)- ci instructed of logs and thatched with 
 straw, and he cultivated a small patch i)f ginund hard b)', which with hunting 
 and fishing afforded him a livelihow(_l. In ni)- bnyhood a rambling old 
 house, with broad porches two stories high and a great brick chinine)', 
 stood on the former site of this c.iljiu. 
 
 I\Iany dark stories were rife about O'Mally. He was said by some 
 to be an e.\-jjiiate and b\' others an ex-convict who liad escaped hither from 
 the oUl country. Whether these accusations had any foundation in laci: or 
 net, the few Settlers who Were dispersetl o\-er this regie m in those earl)- (la\-s 
 did not regard his siiciety as desirable and c.u-efulK' avoided him, which 
 apparentl)- was just what he wanted. 
 
 After living here a long time alone, he disap[)eared sudeleiil}'. It 
 was siii)[)osed that lie h.id cpiit the place |)erm.inentl\' and his neighbours 
 felt n<i little relief to be rid of one whom they could not lulp looking ui>on 
 with suspicion. I le was absent sevei.il iiKinlhs, and tliiu \ery much to their 
 surprise and tlisgust returned to dwell intluir midst again. He brought 
 back with him a little girl with fiii', curling h.iir and blight blue e)es. His 
 love for the chikl seemed to pass all bounds and tliey were alw ays seen 
 together. Thus she giew up into Ijc.iutiful girlhood. 
 
 ."^evei'al )'oung men living across the river in the \'icinit_\' of ( )'.M.dly's 
 cabin h, id been dispose<l at first to p.iy altentions to his daughter, .is she 
 was commonly called; but .an hostile demonstration on the p.irt of the old, 
 man bii.ught these courtshi[)s in each case to a prem.iture and undignified 
 close. 1 le was not desirous, e\ itlcntly, that the girl should enter into wed- 
 lock', and his wishes in the matter soon Ijec.ime known and respci led. 
 
 The objections of • )'.M,ill\- seemed- ,i b.ir to obtaining the hand of 
 his daughter to all sa\e Calixto, the son of the chief I'hillip. This youthful 
 Indian w. IS exceedingl)- liand.ouic, intelligi.nt ,ind of ami.ible disposiiion. 
 Althou'di still ijuili.' )'(Uing, he w.is well known and much respei ieil b_\' the 
 settlers in the neiglib(.)iirliood .mil w. is ,i ficcjuent and welcome guist at 
 
 their 
 
( '5 ) 
 their ixmscs. UnbckiMwn tn O'Mally the y mncj people had Income vio- 
 lent!)- enamoiired of each other ami frecpieinly held stolen interviews in the 
 viciiiit}- of the cabin. 
 
 One suniiner da_\', whilst retiirninL; from a fishinij excursion up the 
 river, Cali\to stojiped at the Fonl Rift to meet his sweelh.eart. Would she 
 keep her tryst ? lie hatl asked himself already- the question an hundred 
 times, wiien a lis^ht ste]) was heard in the underbrush, .nid he sjiran::^ for- 
 ward to tercet her. .And wh.it an hap[)y nieetin;^. althou_L;h the la-t I 
 
 On inissin<j his daughter ( )'Mall\' started out to look for her, su[:)- 
 posiuLj she had gone for berrie.s or wikl flow ers. .\ short distance fi'om the 
 cabin he met the truant lovers returning. Calixto iiad his arm around the 
 \'oung girl, and, walking slowly, they were engaged in earnest conversa- 
 tion. The sight niatidened the old man. 
 
 "The accursed red-skin," he muttered. And t. iking aim with his 
 rifle, he shot the Indian through the heart, killing him instantly. 
 
 O'Mall}' was conscious that the bloody deed would iirovke the 
 greatest indignation, and perha|)s a retribution no less sangniin.uy. .S-.i/ing 
 the young girl, and ilragging her along, he hastened down to the water's 
 edge, where he ke]:)t his canoe. Unfortunate!)- for him. the affra)- had been 
 witU'-ssed from the other side of the ri\-er b)- some Iiulians — and, it is s:ii(i, 
 white men, also — who instantl)- started in pursuit of the fugitives, intent 
 upon re\enge. 
 
 .Several hnndird )-ards dow n the stream from the caiiin, on the Jerse)- 
 side, rise some huge, towering masses of limestone, which were known as 
 Chinuuy Rocks. Here the pursuers and the pursued met. I'he old man 
 made a desperate resistance, but was speedil)- overpowered, and both he 
 and liis child cruell)- massacred. 
 
 Au'ilher version of the trailition is that on the following night the 
 Indians asse-mbled in large numbers ,ind set fire to the cabin, whilst ( )'.M.iI!)- 
 and his daughter slept. As the flames caught in the th.itch of the roof, 
 and the agonizing shrieks of their victims were lie.ud. llu)- joiui-d hinds 
 around the [))'re and tlanced triumphant')-. 
 
 The untimel)- <le;ith of the young lovers excited the dee])ist conimis- 
 eratiiin. Their youth and bciut)- ami m.ui)- \irlues, were exlollei! in alter 
 \-ears, and there were few of the List generation in Lopatcong wiio had n^t 
 heartl the tale of their true h>ve and wept o\-er their unh.ipp)- fate. 
 
( 1^' ) 
 
 Thic Legend of the Gkav Witch. 
 
 On a gentle declivity of the mountain, looking down into the valley 
 anent the manor of Brakeley, stood a rude log cabin late in the last century. 
 It has (lisapj^eared long ago, and the adjoining close has grown wild, but a 
 mournful tradition preserves from oblivion tlie memory of the last unliapp}' 
 occupant. M)' great-aunt pointed out to me the site of this former habita- 
 tion. 
 
 An hardy pioneer and trapper made the clearing in the woods and 
 built the c.ibin. lie is said to have met a violent death afterwards in an allray 
 with Indians, and the lonesome dwelling remained a long time untenanted. 
 Strange sights had been seen and strange sounds heard hereabouts, and folk 
 in tliose superstitious times regarded the localit)' as haunted. 
 
 A few years passed awaj', and an unknown woman took up her abode 
 in this out-of-the-way place. She was middle-aged, of commanding stature, 
 with dark hair and piercing black eyes, and still retained the traces of 
 )'iiuihful beaut)'. .She knew nobody and nobody knew her, or whence she 
 came. She never appeared at church, noi- mingled with the people. The 
 minister had visited her and cndeavoied to incline her t<i attend on the 
 word of God, but she rebuffed him, and gave no heetl 1(3 his ccumsel. The 
 small world of I-ojiatcong came to regard her as a witch and in le,\gue with 
 the devil, and shunned her accortlmgly. She was alw.ays .attired in plain 
 gia\', which, with lu-r singular behavi(uir, obtainetl for her the ojiprobrious 
 name of the (Ikav W'rrcii. 
 
 The shadnw (if this d.irk and mysterious woman rested on the vallc)-. 
 She w.is se(.'n abroad seldom, and tli(_ii, as she strode nonchalantly .ilong, 
 the little children pla)-ing by (he ro.ulside lle(J in disma)' before her. Was 
 it simply the impeiietr.ible \eil u hi( h hid her life t'rom comm( m view that 
 ])ro(luce(l so nuicli terror ? Perhaps so ; yet obseiving folk remarked that 
 her ,i[)pearanee usuall)' jKirtended some dirt- calamity. T5ef()re e\ery tieath 
 wlu( h toiik place in the couiiuunit)- the Gr.i)- Witch had been seen to [lass 
 by, as if in warning. Dread messi-nger ! 
 
 The minister felt it was incumbtMil upon him to m,d<e }-et .another 
 attem]it to solve the m)'stery which imu eloped the strange wom.m ; and one 
 pleasant .ilteindon in summer-time he wended his w.iy >lowly .uul tlKiught- 
 full)' tou.u'ds her humble abode. An air of neatm^'ss and t:k'anliness, 
 
 althou-h 
 
;\ltlioii,L,'h of great poverty, was visible in tlie siiirouiKlings of the jilacc 
 The little garden was carefully weeded, and running vines elambered lov- 
 ingly o\er the rough hewn l<igs with which the cabin was eonstrutled. 
 Somewhat encouraged 1)\- these signs he rapixd gently at the door. After 
 
 waiting long it was ojicncd wide, and the dark eyes ^if the Gra}- Witch fell 
 upon liim — tluise dreadful, piercing ej-es ! 
 
 With some embarr.issment 'he miiii-^lcr hade her g(_)otl-day, .md 
 entered. 
 
 " .\ very lonesome life _\ou seem to lead iiere, Mistress — Gray," lie 
 began, and then added inquiringly, " I know no other name?" 
 
 The w.im.ui \-ouehs,ifcd no repK", and a -cornful ^mile pkixcd .ihout 
 her siiapcl)- nioulh. 
 
 "And again I have come hither," he continued kintll\-, "tu proff-r 
 hea\-enl\- guidance in your walk through lifr. My mission — " 
 
 " \'e have come in \ain," interru])ti -1 tlu- woman harshly, " 1 crave 
 sim[)I)- to be let alone." 
 
 A shade passed over the \ isitor's counlen.mce. 
 
 " .\pi)arently, \-e have known sorr.iw and grivfs. Ilaxeyethcn no 
 confession to make?" asked the man of C'lod eagerl)-. " nothing to rejient 
 of?" 
 
 The woman .idvanced a step and laying lier hand upon his -houlder 
 rei>Iied, " Good sir, _\-e cm comfort me in no wise. I piilhee ijegone." 
 
 And the minister departed satll)'. 
 
 .Summer-time li.ul lied and cold, \vintr\- winds swept down the wdlc) 
 and the snow lay deep u|)on the ground. The Gr.iy Witch had been atiroad 
 but little lately, and the last time she was ^-en she looked sick and feeble. 
 Late one night, some deer-stalkers descemlmg the momU.iin heard mo.ms 
 and cries of di>tress issuing from her lonel)- cabin. The_\- wi-ie p.u.dyzed 
 with fear and ventured not to enter within. 1 Li-.tening aw.iy, the\- aroused 
 the neighbourhood and collected a l.irge parly lo succour the unfoitun.ite 
 woman. The cnjwd ^tood b.ick respeclfull)-, whiNt the minister r.ii-ed the 
 latch Am] entered the dwelling. It was a mournful siglil th.it m -t his eyes. 
 On an humble i)allet l.iy the dead bod)- of the Gray Witch >till w.irm, uilii 
 her r.iven locks di-hevelled and her clothes disordered. She had dieil .ilone. 
 l?ut as if to signif\- repent, mee and lier new-born fiith in the doctrines of 
 Christ, she iiad m.ide with a chirred woidonthe bare tloor besitle her 
 dying couch the sign of the tioss. Tli.ii w.is .dl. lier identil\- anil '-ad 
 iiistory perishetl with her. 
 
 4 The 
 
( IH ) 
 
 The singular character and trai,nck fate of the Gra)- Witch left a deep 
 and painful impression on the community. Mr. Brakelc)-, who was one of 
 the party accompanying the minister on that terrible winter night, was wont 
 to relate the incident in after years ; and he felt that hidden in the mystery 
 of her identity was an heart-histoiy which the world would have been wiser 
 and better to have known. 
 
 TlIF. 
 
( 19 
 
 The Tkkasi-rk Sei-.ki.ks. 
 
 To anyone familiar with tlie folklore of Lopatcon;^. it is scarcely 
 necessary to jireinisc tlic evil reputation which (icori^e l?rakeley (1629- 
 16S2I obtained amongst the superstitious of the Oklen Time. In wiiatever 
 c;ood repute he might have been helii b\- liis contemporaries, by a later 
 L;eneration he was regarded at best as a meddlesome and mischievous 
 sprite. O m_v unfortunate ancestor! I would gladl>- spare you, if possible; 
 but confronted with your many (juestionable ex[)Ioits, as recounted l)y the 
 storyteller, I can only reganl >-our actions with the same di-apjirobati. n. 
 Perhaps one of the sorriest tricks of which goblin was e\er guilty the 
 following narration will make known : 
 
 One pleasant evening in sun)mer-time\ Mr. l{r.d<ele\- was reposing in 
 the dielter of the great trees which fringed the hanks of the lake. .Accord- 
 ing to his wont, he had been reading the .ScriptLU'es until in the gloa:n:ng 
 the letters were no longer distinguishable. 
 
 The tlay, as he remembered, had been excessivel}' w.irm and the 
 night succeeding was soft and balm_\-. The iiKmn shone forth res[)Iendc:U, 
 rising above the crest of the mountains, avaI its full beams fell upon th.e 
 ])lacid waters and lit up the old manordious^ with rare magnificence. 'I he- 
 walls from which the p.iint h.id faded no longer offended and the decay of 
 man}' \-ears disappeared in the enchantment ol the hour. 
 
 Mr. Hr.d<eley lingered sometime, b\it just as he jirepared to go 
 within doors, Rodney sought his assistance in removing from the lake v, hat 
 appeared to be a large chest, lie had been fishing, and whilst stuidin^ on 
 the bank had ob^er\ed a rust\- iron chain [irotruding from the mud in :!-,e 
 l)0ttom. 
 
 Could it be the buried ti\:,isurc of a by-gone geiier.ition of l^ake- 
 l.v.s — the I'lrates' gold or the spoil of the Indian sepulchre — whereof •"',.■ 
 old legends told? 
 
 iSoth hastened to the sp,,t.but llu'ir -irength did not suffice to extri- 
 cate the ponderous box. They jiaused (o devise other means to secure th.e 
 l^rize and then first i)erceived to their dism.iy an apparition standing ne.ir 
 Ihem and watching .ittentiv( ly their actions, — beyond a per.idventure some 
 meddlesome sprite, Kodne>- immediately recognized the famous George 
 Brakeley ( lOj'j-id^'^), tiie iiero of man_\- a I'ireside tale. 
 
 Mr 
 
( 20 ) 
 
 Mr. Brakeley and his servant would have fled, but the sprite — he 
 seemed well-disposed — signified that they should tarry and resume the task. 
 l\ow the)- strove! And the massive chest, filled no doubt to the brim with 
 gold, appeared at the surface of the lake. One more effort would land it 
 safely upon the bank. Suddenly, the spook advanced and himself laid hold 
 of the chain. It snapped asunder, and the treasure with a loud splash disap- 
 peared in the waters. Then how he laughed and cruelly mocked them ! 
 
 It was several days before the treasure seekers durst return. Still 
 visible upon the lake bank were the marks of the arduous struggle and 
 of their precipitate flight; but the treasure they sought was locked in the 
 bosom of the deep waters. 
 
 The 
 
( 21 ) 
 
 TiiK I'KMniixv OK Gkanns (iKivrciiKi.. 
 
 Wroii- -U.M In- made ri,.;lit, 
 
 An.i the I'.iaUclcys will cm. im.) lluii ..u n. 
 
 This (listicli, ihyniini; in German, wa-^ tl.>iil)tless the refrain of an old 
 son;,'- relating to the land troubles of the la-t century ; but further I was never 
 able to learn except the interesting story of the fulfilnient of the event th'.i- 
 foretold : 
 
 In the Olden Time, an aged dame, Mi-tres^^, or a^^ slie was more 
 familiarly called, (".rann>- C.retchel, dwelt ni tlie valley. She iiad already 
 reached a great age, w.is very charitable and devout, and every pleasant 
 Sunday that her infirmities permitted, she might be seen slowly Wfiiding 
 her way to the Straw Church. 
 
 Granny Gretciiel had lived many years in 1 .o[).itcong, ha\ ing come in 
 tiie early da\-s of .settlement by the German forefathers. In her long life, she 
 had experienced the i)rivalions and dangers of the frontier. She witnessed 
 the exciting events of the old h'reneh War. She recalled bitterly liie un- 
 just spoliation of man_\- of the pioneer fimilies by the newly arrived Scotch- 
 "iri-h. "But." she would invariably add. -iriking emph.iticall\- with her 
 staff, " Wrong shall be made right, and the I'-r.ikeleys will come int.. their 
 
 own." 
 
 This theme became a monom.uiia with her, and as her mmd grew 
 feebler with years, she scarcely t.dked of aught el.-e. As she sat on the 
 sunn)- porch of !ier cott.ige, the neighbours passing by could hear her mut- 
 tering to herself, " Wrong shall be made right and the Brakeleys will come 
 int.) their own." To'-r old (Irannx- Crettlu 1 1 
 
 (jne pleas.mt Sunda)- morning in summer time, a goodly throng oi 
 wor>hippers gathered at the Straw Church to hear the pastor, Mr. I-'.rnst. 
 expound the Scriptures. Several of the elders and young men lingered 
 about the portal until tlu- service should begin, discussing the crop pros- 
 petT.s or the aj.parition last seen. 
 
 •• 1 do not observe Granny Gretchel in the congregation," said one. 
 ■■ I'erhaijs she is -iek ?" I'or she was a general favourite. 
 
 " Nay," replied his neighbour, " th.v -ighl begin-^ to fuT Dost th.>u 
 not perceive the C.rcUin)- ju-t nov, come to liie gale?'" And all hastened to 
 salute her. 
 
 '• We 
 
( 22 ) 
 
 "We fearttl, Mistress Gretcliel, that we should not see you Iiere this 
 Lord's day," said the pastor, kindly greeting his venerable parishioner. 
 
 " Ah, Grandmother Gretchel," spoke Matthias Brakeley affection- 
 ately, " I gi\ e thanks that thou nia_\-est be with us yet awhile." 
 
 "Son, 1 shall be here yet man)' a day," replied Grann)- Gretchel. 
 "Wrong shall be made right." .She waved her staff aloft and her eyes 
 gleamed. " Alack-a-da}', jc.ni will not live to see it, but I shall." 
 
 Some of the >c>ung men might have smiled comijassionatel)-, but 
 something in her weird appearance impressed them and imposed silence. 
 ."^nd all entered the sacix-d eelifice. 
 
 The seasons come and go in Lii|Kitcong — si;)ring-time and harvest 
 and cold, bleak winter. Granny Gretchel still lived, but by reason (if her 
 many infirmities she was unable to attend any lunger at the .Straw Church. 
 Still she muttered to herself in her Ikiuis nf revery, " Wiong shall \m: made 
 light and the lirakeleys will come inli) their own." The old theme! 
 Would her prophec)' e\cr come true? \'es, she would answer, I shall li\e 
 to see it ! 
 
 In the year I.S05, George ]]rakele_\- ( 1763-1833), the last male rep- 
 resentative I if his ancient famil)-, returned to Lop.itcong and repurchased a 
 ])art of his ancestral acres. The (u:casi(_iu was a joyful one to such of the 
 old tjennan lamilies as yet resided in the valle_\- ; and according to a time- 
 lioniHued ( nstom, a large compan}- assembled to witness the execution of 
 the ])ai)rrs and partake of the feast wliicli would f.)llow. 
 
 " i\las, that Graiui)' Gretchel slioulil be absent." remaiki-d one i\i 
 the guests. 
 
 " Wc>ul(L-,t thou cxpi-ift," asketl his neighbour, " that, bedridden these 
 twenty \'i.ars, slir could now come hither? lUit attend, the magistrate 
 reatls the bleeds." 
 
 At this self-same moment, there was a loud ia|) at the door. Hef >re 
 the assL-mbled compaU)' couli! lecoxcr fiom their surprise, it flew oiien aiul 
 Granny (netchel entered. folk w._ re awestrickeii, for there was something 
 preternatural in th<; .ippeai.mee of the veiieralile dame who stood before 
 them. ller whole iV.mie cpuwred with emotion and her ej'es gle.imed with 
 fulness of joy. 
 
 She w.ived her staff aloft. 
 
 " i have lived," she cried tiennilously, " to si-e wrong made light and 
 the lli.ikeleys Come' into their own!" Hut the exeitement was too much. 
 She tottered and would have fdlen to the ll.ior had not Mr. ]>r,d<ele\- causjllt 
 
( 23 ) 
 Ikt ill liis ;inii.s. When tlic\- tciulerl>- r,ii-Lii her up. tlv ^[livli had llcil. 
 The hfc-woik of Granny liictchcl was done. 
 
 In the L;ra\v)-ard at the Straw Chiircli tliey laid lier to rest.anti every 
 s|)rinL;-tinie tlie \iolet> and nn-rtle bloon; over lur gra\i' ; anil wlien in tlie 
 dech'ne of the year, the young and tlie o'd t^atlnr l)efore llie blazing hearth, 
 the storyteller is wont to relate the stran-c hilfilnient of her i)ro|)hec\-. 
 
( 24 
 
 Patriot or L( iyalist ? 
 
 The attitude of the Germans of Lopatcong in the war of the Revo- 
 lution has been a matter of controvers)'. From my own researches I am 
 convinced that generally speaking the)' took no aftive part in the long and 
 bitter conflicft. Their isolation from the great world and their hostility to 
 the Scotch-Irish fa(5lion, who vociferously espoused the Patriot cause, con- 
 tributed to this result, whilst their uprightness and tratlitional friendship for 
 the Lenni-Lenapes led botli combatants to respecl their neutrality and to 
 offer them no molestation, 
 
 Mr. Brakeley's influence was felt for good in the little community. 
 His probity, sympathetick nature and courteous demeanour gained him the 
 confidence of friend anil foe. By respeLT;ing others' rights he taught them 
 to respect his own, — a lav(.)urite maxim with him. 
 
 " He must ha\-e known Gen. Ma.\well and Capt. Anderson, and the 
 tory L.ieut. Moody ?" J once asked my great-aunt. 
 
 " Yes, chiM," she replied. " Indeed, on one occasion he gave pro- 
 tection to Moutly, — an act of kindness which the spy had an oj^portunity 
 afterwards to retuiii." 
 
 She put aside her nitting and seated herself in the settle b\- the 
 fire. Rare and tlLliglitfii! cnmi^anicm "in winter's tediijus night"! .She 
 possessed the [ileasing art of relating the e\ i-nts cUid traditions of the good 
 old times; she was the last of the sturj-tellers in Lopatcong. 
 
 I stir tlu; smouldering embers in the firejilace and they burst into 
 flames. Tiie ])ast was nut dead. 
 
 Mv GuEAT-AuNr's Tai.r. 
 
 One stormy winter night, whiKt the Patriot army lay encamped at 
 Morristown, a stranger knocked at the door of Mr. I'.iakelev's house and 
 entreated entertainment for himstlf .uul his horse. He was wet, cold .ind 
 hungry — a sufficient claim to the master's hos|)it,ilily. 
 
 The strangei- guest w,is tall and powerful!)- built and of pleasing 
 address. Mr. l?r.d<ele)' w.is charme<l with his con\ ers.ition, impiessing him 
 as that of a remarkable m.ui. y\s they s.it before the fire, he would fain 
 have learned something of his histor)- ; but to his in<iuiries, he replied 
 
 evasi\-ely 
 
( 25 ) 
 
 cvasi\ely that lu- was a fanner, liviiii,^ at -inme distance, who in these 
 troublous limes liad t'ouiul it necessary to take up arms in defence of his 
 ri^'lits. And soon he retired to liis chainln r. 
 
 Later in the nit^dit a con)[)an)- of troopers of Washint^ton's army sur- 
 rounded tlie liousc, led by a young lieutenant, who rajjped hnidly at tlic 
 door and demanded athnission. Mr. Brakele)-, ar(juseti, in<iuiretl the cause 
 of the intrusion. 
 
 "And so. old (ira}--Locks," said the officer iiisolentlv, " Vou have 
 turned traitor outrit;ht and liarbour spies like Moody.'' 
 
 " \'oung man," rei)lied .Mr. Brakele)-, iiidign.uitly, sei/in^^r him by the 
 shoulder, " s[)eak thus again at )'our peril ! " 
 
 " lUit even now, you h.ive under \(nir protection the spy, Mootly." 
 persisted tile officer. 
 
 " It may be so," answered .Mr. Hrakeley. "A man came at nightfiU 
 to my tloor, wet, cold and hungry. My father never turned such aw a)-, nor 
 I. .\nd w hether he l)e I'.itriot or Lo)'alist, whilst he remains under ni)- roof 
 he must not be molested." 
 
 Something in his determined looks .uid manner awed the soldierv, 
 or perhajjs the)- sus[)ei ted from his boldness that a larger force might be 
 at hand to succour him. .\t all events, after an hurried p.irle)-, the)- went 
 au.iy. 
 
 .•\s the door closed the stranger gue-t stepped into the aii.irtmeilt 
 and gr,is[)ed his protecioi- b)- the hanil. 
 
 ".Sir," s.iiil .Mr. Hr.ikele)-, " whiUt \ou are under m)- r^ ■ if, I would 
 williiigl)- suffer no haini to befall )-ou ; but if )-ou .ire indeed Lieut. Moody 
 ,uid an eiiein)- of )-our eountr)-, I must ask \'ou to depart." 
 
 Rodiic)' brought his horse to the do.ir and held a candle as the sjiy 
 mounted and rotie awa)- into the darkness and gloom. 
 
 Several months elipsed ,ind the events of the winter night h.ul been 
 almost forgotten ; and now came w.irm, sunshin\- da)-s in l.oii.Ucong. The 
 ap[)le-buds buist forth into beaut)- and fr.igrance ,ind the dogwood w.is 
 a-bloom on the mountain-side. And the nierr)- binU — old IriencU I'M) long 
 absent — returned with song and gladness. 
 
 Mr. Hrakeley set out on a journe)' to the Minnisinks, d.mgerous in 
 the unsettled condition of the comitr\-. • >n lii^ return he was onl)- .i few 
 miles from home at the close of day and proposed to travel the remaining 
 distance after dark. 1 le w, is aware th.it -ir.igglers from both armies were 
 abroad, but he determined ni vertheless to [noceed. 
 
 5 At 
 
( 26 ) 
 
 At a lonesome part of tlie roaii, winding tliiough the woods, he was 
 wajlaid by three men who seized his horse by the bridle and bade him dis- 
 niiiLint and suriender the animal. The answer was a sharp blow with his 
 riding-whij) which felled the foremost tu the ground. His companions 
 opened a fusilade on the traveller, which was at once returned from across 
 the road by a man, who, unobserved, had witnessed the assault. 
 
 The miscreants immediately decamped, and the stranger coming 
 R)r\vaid accompanied Mr. Brakeley a short distance, whose tlianks for his 
 timely assistance he briefly acknowledged and seemed indisposed to con- 
 verse further. After going several miles, he stopped and turned to leave. 
 As he raised his hat courteously, the moonlight fell upon his countenance 
 and the traveller recognized his whilom guest, Lieut. Moody, the famous 
 tt.ry sp)-.* 
 
 OLD 
 
 » Intlic liljiary alllic nld MiakclL'y I r..imsl.M.l in r.op.ilcuiit; is a r.iro liUlc vuluinc, 1,111 r. 
 
 Jamk-. M v's A'„i::ili:'c- of hii Exertions „n.i Sii/frinx^ in I':,- Cms,- of llor.in incut >/«.,■ the 
 
 v.." iTy(>. I.viulon, iyS3. 
 
 Il 1 . a fine copy aii.l l.c.iutifiilly Ixniml l.y l'.cilf..nl.^pfilinp- i\ <f\h fiom tlic cuithor. 
 
III. 
 
 OLD CI' S T (^ M S A \ I) S 1/ 1' I-. R S T IT K ^ \ S. 
 
 Iler ilrcanif^ arc so cli.istc that she dare tell llu-ni ; only a IVi.laie's .Irer.nu- is a'l lier 
 Ml] crstilion : that she coiiceales for feare of anger. 
 
 The- Charadn- of a f.iirc a,ul h.i-',-y .)////■«/,;(■/.— 0\i;kl!l-RY. 
 
 'T^Hl'. belief in witchcraft was universal amnn^st the t^viod folk of Loi>al- 
 cony in the ( )klen Time. And if, gentle reader, yoii had li\ ed in tiiat 
 favoured locality an hundred years ago, it would i)e scarcely necessary for 
 me to ativise \oii that a witch is an invisif)le being who rides tiuough tlie 
 air bestride a broomstick. 
 
 To bewitch persons or animals the witch must put an h.md on them. 
 It was believeil that magical arts could not be [iracliced so well in the op. ii 
 air as in houses. And therefore, in order to present witches from crossing 
 the threshnld. it was customary to nail an horseshoe above the di.ir. In 
 firmer times there was 11,4 a dwelling in the willey which was n<it deeoraled 
 in this manner. 
 
 The knots foiuid in a eolt's mane are witch-saddles. .\ witch will 
 mount a colt in the night and ride until it can scarcely walk the next morn- 
 ing. It w.is no unc(5mmon occmrence to see two neighbours leaning upon 
 the pa.sture fence to discuss the condition nf the stock and which h.id been 
 ridden by the witches.* 
 
 It witches are in the cream, the housewife must thrust into it a 
 red-hot poker, when the\' will leave. 
 
 It was a common sa_\-ing that if }-ou sell your s.iul ti) the devil and 
 burya looking-glass under the lurks uf a mad. the witches will eciue along. 
 If \ou do not speak to them, monev can be fmnd there. 
 
 Conijare Herrick's Cliarni (or Stal.les: 
 
 I 
 
 IIan<; up hooUs and shears to scare 
 lieiice the hai; that rides the mare 
 Till they I.e all over \vet 
 With the mire and the sweat ; 
 This ..l.serv'd, the m.mes .liall lie 
 Of Nour horses all knot fiee. 
 
( -^s ) 
 
 I remember licaring an okl L;ii^sip of tlic vallc)- relate tlie following 
 instance of the de\ilish arts of the witch : 
 
 I once had occasion, being a young girl, to look for the cows which 
 had strayed off to the \voods. In my search, I passed by the cottage of a 
 wcuiian who was reputed in the neighbourhood to be in league with the 
 de\-il. She was sitting before her spinning-wheel, and at that very moment 
 was whittling a small stick, making one end sharp and the other blunt. To 
 ni)- ini|uiries, she replied (without looking up and with a sinister smile) that 
 she had not seen the cows. I went my way, but when I found them and 
 tried ti.) milk them, out did pop the plug of wo(jd which I saw the witch 
 make. 
 
 It was an exceedingly difficult, Udt to sa>' tlangerous, undertaking to 
 kill a witch ; )-et Mr. Brakelc)- ex[)lains how it can be done easiest: 
 
 Make a fair likeness of the w itch whuse death is compass'd. Then 
 load a gun with a silver bullet and shout the pourtraiture. Hut if the 
 witch is already dead, the ball will retui'n and kill the pers(jn who aimetl 
 the gun. 
 
 Amongst some papers of a firmer generation, I find this curious 
 record of the witchcraft superstition : 
 
 A neighbour's wife, who had a child bewitch'd, laid a liroom across 
 the doi>i', and of the wciman passing in and out she was .ippi'is'd that the 
 witcli would |iick' it up. ( )f a surety, the hag did take it up and laid it at one 
 side, lor such will never steji over a broom. Then a cunning pourtraiture 
 was made of her whom she sus|jicioneil and shot with a silvei' bullet. The 
 child wa.\ed stimig again, Ijut the witch was crijipl'd. 
 
 The craft of witchery was handed down, iisualU' b\' the witch in her 
 last extremity disclosing the dread seci'et to her chosen successor. In my 
 earl)' boyhood in Lopatcong, a strange tale was still current of such trans- 
 mission : 
 
 A number of little imps tiL^litl)' enclosed in a box weie given b}- an 
 old witi h to a \-oung girl whom she desired should succeed her in the 
 praftiie of the black art. The gift, liow(.;ver, was not ajipreciated, but the 
 legatee was perple.xeil to know what safe disposition to make of it. .She 
 Consulted Master lierger. ]]y his dirt-tHions, a fire was kindled in the o\en 
 and the box iilacei.! therein, secuicly fastening the door. .Soon such un- 
 t-.irthly yells and imiirecations arose that .all the good folk present lied m 
 diiuia)-. Alter some time, the horrid iliscord (Jied .iw.iy. When all was 
 silent .again, one bolder than tln' olheis cautiously opened the oven-tloor, 
 but n<:)lliing w.is found excejit dust .uid ashes. 
 
 Mr. 
 
( 29 • 
 Mr. Hiakelcy advises a friend troubled with llie ni^litmare t'> plac- 
 liis shoes on rctirin- to rest carefully at hi-^ bedside, •'eoniini; and f;oin-." — 
 that is, the toe of one shoe pointing in the direction of the heel of the other, 
 — and doubts not he will sleep soundly .md well. 
 
 Old Chri.stnias is January 6th, ( )ld .Style, when the bees will cnme 
 out of their hives, the hops will grow, and the o.ws will all turn their heads 
 towards tile l-last. The time is twelve o'clock at ni-ht. A great l)uz/.ing 
 can be heard within the hive, and one of Mr. Hrakele\'s neighbours— an 
 old man — had actually seen them come out. 
 
 The fust hives used in the valley were made of sections of an hollow 
 log, with a board nailed on the top, of gum or sycamore, which is a tough 
 wood. Afterwards tiie\- were made of straw. It is supposed that the 
 gradual disai^pearance of the wild bee is due to the presence of the domes- 
 Tick. They were plentiful in the Olden Tune, and the hunting and g.itheriiig 
 of honey was quite an occupation. There was an old man— jiossibly the 
 same old gentleman that saw the bees come out— who could keep anyboily 
 from taking his bee-trees. I le would walk around the tree, muttering some 
 magical words, and whoever got within the circle w,.uld have to .sta\- there 
 unt?l he released them. On Candlemas-. lay it was customary to move the 
 bee-hives, keeping them on the same board, but further along out of the 
 
 old [jlace. 
 
 If a member of tlie family die >ome one must go to all the bees and 
 notifv them, lest they also languish. When Mr. Urakeley died, a neighbour 
 perfcunud this ceremony, and at each hive made the important announce- 
 ment : )■' iiinstcr is i/t;i</i .' 
 
 The death-omen in various forms possessed the power of communi- 
 cating alarm. The dim hgurc of the Cray Witch Hitting by. the winding- 
 sheet'^in the candle, the coffin-shaped cin.ier exi)loding from the fne-place— 
 all were h.oked upon as presaging evil. Hut the shape of the cinder, sup- 
 posed t.> rei)resent a coffin or a purse, so nearly resembled each other that 
 the wiseacre was sorelv perplexed to ilecide betwixt omens of such different, 
 yet momentous, import— whether there was to be a de.ith in the l.im.l.v, or 
 a sudden ac(iuisition of wealth. 
 
 The howling of a dog at the door is ,i sign ..f .m .ii.pro.ichmg dcUh 
 in the hons<hold. " 1 )ogs can even see 1 )e,,th enter the house when a person 
 is about to llie. 
 
 An undertaker hearing a noise in his t.M^Is regards it as a token f .r 
 
 coffin. 
 
 When 
 
( 30 ) 
 
 When a corpse is limp it is a sign that another death will occur soon 
 in that iiouse. 
 
 An horse neighing at a funeral denotes that there will be another 
 burying before long. If a man starts away first it will be a woman, and 7-ici- 
 versa. 
 
 The screech of the owl, issuing at night-time from the forest, was 
 heard with alarm. Its notes are, indeed, somewhat startling. Wilson, the 
 ornithologist, sa)'S : 
 
 This ghostly watchman has frequently warned me of the approach of 
 morning, sweeping down and around my fires, uttering a loud and sudden 
 " Waugh O ! Waugh O !" sufficient to have alarmed a whole garrison. He 
 has other noifturnal solos, one of which very strikingly resembles the half- 
 supiM-essed scream of a person suffocating or throttled. 
 
 There was a superstition that mliins will sing near the window when 
 a person is dying. I have heard old folk relate the legend that this bird 
 attended our Lord on the Cross, and was there sjirinkled with His blood, 
 the marks of which the little songster still carries on his ruddy breast. 
 WhereJore it was considered sacrilegious to harm one. 
 
 The wild swan was not uncommon in those early days, and the 
 autumnal migrations of this bird gave ri^i' to a singular superstition. They 
 usually cro.ssed the valley by night, and in dull, cloudy weather, keeping 
 up a continual calling to each other. It was thought that the.se m)-sterious, 
 nofturnal sounds proceeded from a pack of demon dogs, yclept Gabriel's 
 Hounds — evil spirits hnunding forwaid the souls of the d.imned to eternal 
 punishment. It was a scilcmn anel impressive moment to all, and was 
 dedicated to prayer and suijplication for the lost. 
 
 Those who have listened to the death-song of the dying swan can 
 never forget its wondrous melody. 
 
 Amongst the many superstitions rehiting to the houK-ly iletails of 
 farm life may be enumerated the following: 
 
 r.i|.it..c-s |,lantc.l in tliL- si-n ..f \W I.i.m uill t;unv I.ui^c; in llu' m-ii uf tlic l■■|^h \m11 
 i;row (loul.lc. 
 
 Slin,i;lrs n.iilr.l on iIil- l..,,r u lun ihc „„,un ] Is np will nut sl.iy tn tluir pLl. l-s, l.iil will 
 
 cv,-n .hiui ill,- iiaiK li.,n, ilie l.uli. 
 
 'I in- huttnii, i.iil will inov.- nihl ,li,l,Ml-r llic f,-nci- ifl-u,! when llu- ni.Min p..inls up. 
 
 .Melt killcl 111 i1k- imiv.i^L- ,.l Or- ni„oii will iiu unsr in wci.nlil iiiitll llic iiiouii l.cc.,nK■^ full, 
 .nncl vii.f -•,is,i. 
 
 To 
 
( 3' ) 
 
 'I'.i cm llic Iiair in the iiicrcA^e uf tlie niofin u ill m-un.- it^ f.ivimrnl.lc growth. 
 
 Always iiiovc ill a iRW hv.ii^c in ihc increase ul ilic niouii. Ilin.wyMUr money in lir^l. 
 iheii your >all. Tins is f.ir Inik. 
 
 'I'lic nc» nuiun was lli(Hij;lit lo be the- nio^t |,ii.|.;ti..iis siasim in which lo beyln any n.-w 
 work. 
 
 The Cirsi I-ri.lay in the now moon the vinegar was looke.1 aTler, an<l every two months tlie 
 geese were ,.Iueke.l. 
 
 A Mas|i's nest, when it Ijecomes ohl, will ijjnite and luirn. 
 
 lire is extraoteil liy iiiTs,.ns having power over it ami causes no more Complaint. 
 
 Pin- niu-t not be picked up when the heal lies toward one. The sharp point make- 
 sharp or goo.l luck. 
 
 A piece of rope with w Inch a man has been hanged w ill cure the toothache. Or a sidinter 
 from a tree that has been struck by lightning will answer the same purpose if the gums are j.icked 
 Willi it until they Meed. 
 
 When a cat washes its face it is a sign that a \isitor may lie e>:pecied. 
 
 rigs can sec the win.l. 
 
 Hairy folk are born to be rich. 
 
 .\ person born at niglit never sees spirits. 
 
 Children will not thrive unless cliristene<l. 
 
 It will cure a weak or sickly child to pass it ihruugh a S|ilit a-h. 
 
 A weasel skin tacked on the bottom of a feed-trough will prevent the liorsc from taking 
 any disease. 
 
 If a tree is barke.l or even a nail driven into it .\ugust 26th, it will die. 
 
 .\n hick.iry p.ile resting against a pine tree will kill it. 
 
 To hold a fowl that has been beheaded in the hands by the legs whibt it is dying an I 
 struggling I'roduces nervousness. 
 
 When the camlle burns blue there is a spirit in the room. 
 
 Apples and blossoms on a tree at the same time signify a forlhc<'ming death in the family. 
 
 The itching of the nose indicates that you will be in ilanger or see a stranger or 1 worse than 
 all) kiss a fool. If the right ear burns, somebody S|.eaks well of you ; the left ear, ill. 
 
 To piesent a friend with a kuil'e or anything sharp will break or mt the friendship. A^ .1 
 counter charm, exact in return a penny or something ri'Uiid, 
 
 .\s many fogs as there are in January, so many frosts will there be in M.ry. 
 
 It is an old saying, " ,\ great year for nuts, a great year for children." 
 Kriilay-iiights' <lrcanis on the Saliird.ay toUl 
 .\re sure lo come true be they never so old. 
 
 It was (]uitc possible to fathom the designs of Cupitl by naming and 
 coimtinij tlic tcll-talc applc-sceil. The old-fashionctl maidcii, antiotmcin_Lj 
 tiic name of him wliom she woiikl subjcfl to tliis crucial test, cuts tlic apple, 
 carefull}- sa\in;^ the seeds. Then slic counts : 
 
 I-I love, 
 
 2—1 love, 
 
 3-1 h.ve ; 
 
 4 — I love with all my heart, 
 
 5-1 cast away; 
 
 6— lie loves, 
 
 7 -She 
 
( 32 ) 
 
 7-Slic loves, 
 
 ,S— lii.lli Icivc! 
 (Here tlic tlieme becunie^ absorbing.) 
 
 9 — He comes, 
 lo — lie tarries, 
 II — He court«i, 
 12 — He marries ! 
 
 A man bad better ne'er been Ijorn, 
 As liave hi-, nails on a Sundav .shorn. 
 
 And to tlie same effect is an old rliynu 
 
 Cut tl)ein on Monday, cut tlieni for health; 
 
 Cut them on TueMJay, cut them for wealth. 
 
 <'ul them on Wednesday, cut them for news; 
 
 Cut them on Thursday, for a pair of new shoe^. 
 
 Cvd them on I'riihiy, cut them for sorrow; 
 
 Cut them .in Saturday, see vour sweetheart to-morrow. 
 
 Cm them on Sunday, cul them fMr evil; 
 
 F..1 all the wrei, hmy will be \M\h you the /?,W77. 
 
 The .slLio;_;ard was liardly dealt with by our sturd}' and indtistrious 
 forefathers, and n'.an\' of their wise saws inveij^di a;.^Minst shilhltilness : 
 
 r:arly to be.l, and early to n,e, 
 
 Wdl nnd^e a man healthy, wealthy and wise. 
 
 He that will llnive must ii,e al l.ve ; 
 He th.U has ihiixen ni.iy -lr.-|. lill seven. 
 
 J'IouhI, de,|. whiKt olher, sleel.. 
 
 And yon udl have cm lo sell and keep. 
 
 There are no ijain-. without pains; 
 
 ■Ihen pl.niL^h deep wlnlM slu:.;-ards sleep. 
 
 The slu-L;.ll.rs l^uiM', 
 T.ilh to bed, loth to .l,e. 
 
 Nature reipiiies |]\e, "| 
 
 Cusliun lakes se\,n, I 
 
 , . ; Hours of sleep. 
 
 I..1/UH.SS takes nme, ' 
 
 And wickedness eleven, j 
 
 And Mr, Hi-.il,e]ry, who was liahitn.illy an early riser, tnioht ha\e 
 added, wilil honest oKl 'I'lisser, 
 
 Some «oik 111 the nioniin;; m.iy liiinl; be d,,ne, 
 Tli,.l ,dl th.' d.iy aflei e.ui h,ndl> be won. 
 
 The 
 
( 33 ) 
 The follow ini; occurrences were consiLlcred unlucky ; 
 
 To meet ,1 s.niiiuiin^ woman, llIlll.•^^ yoii spi-ak lo lnr, wliicli liicaks llic cli.irm. 
 
 To return for sonulhiiig forynUcn. 
 
 To go on :i journey Friday. 
 
 To lie one of a party of thirteen. 
 
 To have crickets in tile hou-.e. 
 
 For a fem.ile U< enter your house the first thing on New-Vear's no.ning. 
 
 .•\ cut onion lying aliout the house lireetls ilistempeis. 
 
 To walk un.ler a la.hler. 
 
 To kill a white .leer. 
 
 To wash in the same liasin w iih another per-on, as it forho.les a nuanel, or to look in the 
 glass both at the same time. 
 
 To sell bees. Insteaii, traile them for something or exact a part of the produce of the hive. 
 
 To spill the salt .it table. Hut if the person without hesitation or remark should lake a 
 pinch between the linger ami thumb of his right han<l and cast it over his left shoulder, the 
 threatened misfortune would be averteil. 
 
 To meet a funeral procession. It w.as customary to remove the hat, as a mark of rcspecl 
 to the spirits hovering about the corpse. 
 
 To strike a snake with a gun causes it to shoot badly. 
 
 To mairy in .May. An old poet sings. 
 
 May never w.a.s ye month of love. 
 
 For May is full of llowers; 
 lUil rather .•\pril wet by kind, 
 
 For love is full of shoucr-. 
 
 Sonic ilays were eslreiiietl more auspicidus than others. Friday was 
 unlucky, as being that <>ii which our Saviotn- was crucified. Mr. Hrakeley 
 tquaintly observes " tiiat folk who have been sick-a-bed wax strung and do 
 coiiinioiily walk abroad lor the first time on the Sabbath-day." 
 
 l'"or the wedding-day, 'twas said, 
 
 Monday for wealth, 
 
 ■lues.lay for health, 
 Wednes.lay the best day of all; 
 
 Tluirsd.ay for crosses, 
 
 Friday for losses, 
 S.ituiday no luck at all. 
 
 It is an unhappy onien for the wedtling to be put off when the day 
 has been fixed, and much harm will ensue if tlie bridegroom stand at the 
 junction of cross-roads or beside a closed gate on his weilding morn. It 
 was considered a ba<l sign if the bride f.iil to shed tears oti the hapi)y day, 
 but a good one if she chance to see a strange cat or hear a cat sneeze. 
 
 (> And 
 
( 34 ) 
 And if on arising slie step from Iilt bcil upon something higher still, slie 
 will from that hour rise in the world, lint woe betide her should she fall ! 
 
 If the britlal jiart)' venture '.>ff <Ji\- laiul the\' must go up-stream. To 
 look baek or go back before gaining the chui-ch dnor, to marr)' in green, 
 or whilst there is an open grave in the churchyard, all were considered 
 unfortunate. The bride should be careful in leaving the house and church 
 to j)ut her right foot forw-u'd, and to go in ;it one door and out at another, 
 and to suffer no one to speak to her huslxuid until she has called him by 
 name. 
 
 The bride, to be luck)-, must wear — 
 
 Scjmetliing old .im' s(]nKtIiiiig new, 
 Soniclliiny gold ami soinctliing bluf. 
 
 When the bridesmaids undress her they must throw away all the pins. 
 Woe to the bride if a single one be left about her, — nothing will go right. 
 Woe to the bridesmaids if they keep one of them, for the)' will not be 
 married before Whitsuntide, or until the Easter following at the soonest. 
 i\Taidens. I conJLu-e you, have care! 
 
 To break the wedding ring signifies that the wearer will soon be a 
 widow, but — 
 
 As voiii- wrd.ling nii^ wear-, 
 So«,llu,M, auavy,;,, ..„vs. 
 
 An old rh}'me tells of the superstition attaching to birthdays: 
 
 Monday's cliil<l is lair ,,l" faCL-, 
 'liH's.lay's child is lull ..rgiaec; 
 W'olnrsday's child is horn lo woe, 
 'Ihuisd.iy's child has far logo; 
 hnd.iy's child is loving and giving, 
 Satinday's child nnist uoil, h.r its living; 
 Hut llu- child thai I, lioMi .ui 111.' S,d.lulh-dav 
 I l.lithr and honnu', c, 1 and gay. 
 
 Mr. Hrakeley w.is ,i careful obser\er of atniospherick changes. When 
 in the morning the must hung about the b.ise of the mountains, he predicted 
 cle.u' weather; but if the mist went up. the rain came down. He notes the 
 tollowing also as signs of rain: 
 
 
 d up. suddenly conii 
 
 inning with clear w.iler without 
 When 
 
( 35 ) 
 
 When stones are coverc.l with inoi^lure on a cK.ir >uniinti day, imlicatiny a warm, <l.iiii| 
 ainiospherc. 
 
 It never rains on the nii;hl tlial the whippoorwill chirps his iluleful -onr;, Imt if it be chnili 
 ami it cea-.c'i >ingin|,', rain may lie e\pecteil before day. 
 
 When smoke falls to the ground. 
 
 Wlien <listant sounds are heard with distinctness. 
 
 The loud and clamoiirons ,|uaehing of ducks, geese and other waler-fowl an I the cr.uking 
 „( frogs. 
 
 Suine an'l chickens ap|iear very nneasy and rub in the rlii,t. 
 
 I logs arc apt to grow very slee]iy and dull and lie all day before the lire. 
 
 .Mules throw up the ground and s])i<lers are seen crawling .m walls more tlinci common. 
 
 Hees do not go out but kee|i in or about the hive. 
 
 The blowing about of feathers or any light substance on the water. 
 
 In autumn before rain some (lies bile and others liecune very Iroublesiunc and gnats an 
 more apt to sling. 
 
 Tlie moon poinling upward i- a dry one, pointing •i..wnwaid a wet one. 
 
 If the moon changes at midnight, it ilenotes clear « either; at midday, foul weather. 
 
 A rainbow in the morning ])Mrlends rain before night. The sun drawing water den^ te* 
 wind. 
 
 Before storms, kine and also sheep assemble at one corner of the lield and all turn their 
 heads towards the ijuarter whence the wind does not blow. 
 
 .•\n evening red and morning gr.iy. 
 
 Will set the traveller on his w.iy; 
 
 liut if the evening's gray and the morning red, 
 
 I'ut on yclur hat or you'll wet your head. 
 
 .\ rainliuw in Ihe m.?rnin.; 
 Is ilie she]ilicr'rs warning. 
 .A iMinbow at night 
 Is the shepherd's delight. 
 
 When tliL- (lew, lio\\c\cf. lies plciUcou.sIy upon the .i^rass in the c\cii- 
 inq; ami hats anti jjcctlcs arc observed to (]y aroiiiul \ cry l.ite, the iie.xt d.iy 
 will [)r()bal)l\' In- lair. 
 
 'I'he luiich barl.iiiL; of (lii.i,'s durinc,' the iiii;ht rrei|iieiitly imlieate-s a 
 chaiiLje ill the weather. 
 
 The mildness (ir severity of the approaching winter cm i)e bTetuKl 
 bv e.xaminiiiL^ the bark nf cert.iin trees, and finin the maimer muskiMts .mil 
 other animals builii tlieir nc-ts. 
 
 When lloeks nf wild t.;e< sc are ol)sei\-ed llviilLj in a wesiw. ud or 
 sonthem direction an hard winter may l)e expected. Also u hen the vines 
 and trees are verj' full of berries. 
 
 Trees crackin;4 in the wootls in the w intci-time is a si^^n of .in 
 ai)proaehiii;4 thaw. 
 
 Acioss 
 
( 36 ) 
 
 Across the valley, at the foot of the mountains, lived a little old man 
 who possessed in a rare degree the art of divination. When a well was to 
 be digged his services were invaluable. For a sum of money trifling in 
 comparison to the loss entailed by a wrong location, he would designate the 
 cxaft spot where water could be found. Of course, it was not to be ex- 
 peftcd that the seer would explain otherwise than vaguely so remunerative 
 a gift, for which reason Mr. Brakcley regretted that he could give but 
 meagre details of the proceedings. A peach branch was cut carefully — one 
 with three prongs. Then he would trim and anoint it with an unknown 
 liquid from a small vial which he carried with him, muttering the while 
 unintelligibly. At the conclusion of this ceremony, holding the branch 
 loosely in both liands before him, he would advance slowly. Suddenly, at 
 the presence of water in the ground underneath, it was seen to dip in a 
 mysterious manner. The well was located ! 
 
 My great-aunt remembered the Simple-Room in the old manor- 
 liouse, — a low-raftered, narrow galler}' opening off the great hall and dimly 
 lightetl by a small aperture. On one side were long rows of shelves filled with 
 herbs and barks and dried fruits and preserves. Against the wall opposite 
 hung branches of thvme, catnip, etc. Every )'ear, a full supply of these 
 simples were gathered from the woods and fields. 
 
IV. 
 
 A KAl.l-.XDAR OF TIIK SI'.ASOXS I.\ I.OI'A TCOXG. 
 
 Thunders in >•■ morning ^iyTiilie wyiulc; al.' iiu.nie, rayiic ; in y" evening;, groat lcni|)est. 
 Somme wrytc ^y' yrduiul I >ee noti y' Soiulayc's lliun.lrc ^liouM l.ryiif;c y» ..lualli ^.f Icarni-.l iiu'ii, 
 judj^es and otliors ; Mon.layc's llnimlre, y death of women; I'uc^aay's tluindrc, jOiiity of ^^rainc ; 
 WednCMlaye's tlinndiv, y deatli of liarlolts; Tluirvlay\ tlnindre, i.lcntie of -hecpc and cornc; 
 Fridaie's thundre, y" >laiightcr of a greate man, and oilui Imnililc iniirdtrs; Saturdaye's ilinndic. 
 a yenerall plague and grate dealhe. 
 
 .•/ /';,vH..f//,, ;//..« t-ier!,if!ii:^ ,/;:;,/:■/ ^•..,/ E/r,;!<; v>c-. — 1 ll';.;i-, 1557. 
 
 M' 
 
 R. Hrakclcy was keenly appreciative of the beauties of tlie country. 1 le 
 enjoyed a long ramble throui;h the wockIs and fields, now loitering b)- 
 a picturesque eddy in the Lopatcong stream, now stopping to gather a wiUl 
 flower or catch the notes of a strange birtl. To her devotee. Dame Xatiire 
 liad imparted many a rare secret. He excelled in the arts of the luisband- 
 man and knew the signs and seasons of the year, lie loved to point hi^ 
 speech with something of this homely lore, — an adage drawn from ever_\- 
 day life or a cpiaint weather saw. Thus he would .say of the too penurious 
 acquaintance, " Neighbour So-and-.so siiould not live quite so hardly; ' Better 
 go to the mill twice than to the doctor once,'" Or, speaking of the atten- 
 tions demanded by old age, " ' An old .sack wanteth much patching.' " Or, 
 a'fain, after scanning anxiously the horizon on Candlemas morning, " dood 
 wife. I do fear mucii luisL-.isonable weather is \-et to come; 
 
 • ircandlenias-day W l.ur and liri.i;lil, 
 Winter will li.ave anoiliei Higlil.' " 
 
 J.\NIAKN-. 
 
 The year opens in Lopatcong with cold and snow. The fields are 
 covered with a white mantle and in the woods the trees bend with iheir 
 heavy biutlen. The d.iy is growing Innger, and aeci>rdingly, 
 
 .\^ tlie day Ici.-lhen- 
 The cold sirengtiiens 
 
( 3S ) 
 
 The L^round is solid and icy and creeks and swamps are frozen over. 
 The roads, without bridges across the streams, were scarcely more than a 
 passage-way chopped through the forest which covered the face of the land ; 
 but the farmer takes advantage of their present excellent condition to con- 
 vey his produce to market, going sometimes as far as Burlington. On these 
 expeditii>ns, Mr. Brakeley and Rodney would take with them grain, cider 
 and furs to exchange for s^lt, powder, and manufa(5i:ur(|^ goods. But the latter, 
 being exceedingly dear, were bought sparingly and af|ier much bartering. 
 
 Notwithstanding that no farm work could be done, it was j'et a busy 
 month. Trapping fur-bearing animals and deer-stalking in the mountains, 
 hauling and chopping the year's supply of firewood and fence material, to- 
 gether with recei\'ing and returning visits in the neighbourhood, occupied 
 fully the da\-. 
 
 Usually about the middle of the nmnth comes a thaw, but if it lasts 
 too long and the weather grows unseasiuiabl)' warm it forebodes a cold, late 
 .spring. Thus old folk Vifere wont to say: 
 
 Jf llic i^rass grows in J.iiiiveer, 
 
 It grows tlic woi-s,. f,,i'( .ill the VL-.ir. 
 
 and again : 
 
 If JanivcLT r.ilriiJs bo suniiunly g.iy, 
 
 'Tiull be winletly we.Uhcr till tlic c.ik-ii.Is of May. 
 
 The weather, too, was carefully observed on .St. Vincent's da)-, Jan. 
 .'!2d; 
 
 RciiieiDber on St. Vmrcnl's ,i.iy. 
 
 11" ll 
 
 If sun 
 
 bis brains ,li,|.l 
 
 av. 
 
 lie s 
 
 ure to 
 
 maik tlie lian. 
 
 leiil beam 
 
 Will 
 b..l 
 <'f 1 
 
 ];ui 
 
 cll till 
 'tis .1 
 
 :.ios|K- 
 if by 1 
 
 ongb the c,i„ni 
 lol.rll bright .llM 
 
 - weather .il 
 
 h.inee it then ,1 
 
 ml shells a gle 
 1 ileal. 
 1 the )e.,r; 
 li.iiiM rain, 
 
 li » 
 
 ill n... 
 
 ke.learall bm.l 
 
 1. ..f gr.iin; 
 
 .\n. 
 
 111.' 
 
 1 il tb. 
 
 ,1..,h1s make .1 
 
 • .Mill l.iwb llll 
 
 .uk the sky, 
 s year shall .lie 
 
 If 1 
 
 .lu-trr 
 
 iiig uinils.r, bl. 
 
 .M ah, ft. 
 
 '111.- 
 
 n w.ir 
 
 s shall (loiibl,. i: 
 
 he lan.l full .,11 
 
 Mr. Brakele)- was alwaj's glad to see plenty of snow in this month,}' 
 
 and 
 
 ^ Caltle. 
 
 t tr.ini a reliable soinre, 1 have tlie fr.ll..«ing iiitelestiiig accouiil nf ihe Winter ,.f the 
 Decji Sn.iw, iS;!;-(, : 
 
 Ihe in. .nth nf N.iv.inb a h.i.l been very niil.l iinlil lli<- night .if We.liies.lay, iSih, i.r 
 Thurs.lay, Mill, when the lirsi sii.iw lell t.i the ileplh i.f tw.. iiiehes, wliieh w .is cjvere.l with an 
 
( 39 I 
 and woiihl (luotc tlic old saying whicli his experience liad abimd.intl)- 
 proven : 
 
 A sn,nv ycaic -.i iic!i jcaic. 
 
 l"i.i!i;i .\K^■. 
 
 This nionlli is usually iiuite cold in 1 .(.patcong. The snow still lies 
 on the gnnnul, bul now and then come snli, b<dni\- days when the sun shines 
 f.)rth brightly,— gentle reniimlers of anpnMching spring-time. 
 
 fanillemas-day is the jd of the month, and many were the prognos- 
 tications drawn from t!ie weather at that time: 
 
 TIk- l.in.l lia.l as lii'f sc- ;..> wife ..n lier bier. 
 As llial Caiuilcnia.s ilay lie |.lea-aTU au.l clear. 
 
 If CaTnllcmas-day \>c fair ami elear. 
 •riiere'll 1)U two wiiilcr- in llie year; 
 If Caiiillema.s-ilay be cl<)ll■l^ an. I rain, 
 Wiiiler i> i^one and wili n-t c.,nK- ai;aiii. 
 
 Candlenias-day was regarded as mid-winter: 
 
 Ju,t h.iir wf y.,in cm and lialf of \,,.nr bay 
 Sh..uM be remaining on r.in.llenia-aay. 
 
 Wluii Can.IUnias-dayisc.nie .in.l i;.>ne 
 '1 be -now lies on an liul >t..ne. 
 
 And 
 
 e:;amelliiu' of elear, li.:nl iee ..f al-.ul half an inel. in '.UieKne--. ivnlenn.; (ra\eli:n.- . I. in. nil i.m 
 I'ole-triair^. Tliis was f,,lb,«e.l by a number nf l:,;bl m>..ws n.,t a-^re.^alin- over -ix ..r ei-bl 
 inches in .leinli. bul wlncl, .m aecount of its s.,|i,b.y an.l the eMreme eoia weatlui. n.a.Ie ab^nt 
 six week> of nn.-t eNeellent .le.yihinj;. The ^real br. in New York „ceu>re,l -hnn.,^ th.> inleM.J 
 — December loth; the wealher bein" so c.hl a. lo ren.ler the hre-en-ine- neaily nseU— f..r il~ 
 e-ain.'ui-hment. '« )n Cbri-lnia. .lay-Frbbiy-the ue.ather nnnlcnited vonuwvhai. and by M,.nday. 
 l.ec°2Sth, there was a partial bre.akui-. eaUMn;^- .i..i:e a freshet in sonic of the more ,en-,t,ve 
 streams, and the snow ,>retly ye.Rrally di.appeare.l, nr wa. re.lueel to ..did ice ..n the level ■■,.uu 
 r.eld-., ami remained m many places nntil the next -pi.n..;, .lama-in- the -ran., and m.d.ni- mi- 
 poit.ilb.n of bread -iiilV- ne. es-.uy. 
 
 From Christmas nntil Jan. Stli. there were f,v.,n.n. lain^. with free.-n,.;; and ll.au, n^. 
 VIordiiK' I.elate.l farnur. bul bitle or no o].poit.in.|y to , omplele ^.ul.enn- their corn, a co„.,de,- 
 able ponion of which, ,n soi„e localities, remained out all wimer an.l wa- more ..r le^^ damasked 
 (1,1 1-ii.iiv fin .Slb 11 laine.l verv liar.l dnrin- ihe m..rnin- ; chant;e.l to hail about n.n.n. an.l 
 l,,ertnrue.'r!o'sn„w ami contim.e.l furn.udy until Snn.l.iy. Jan. loth, when it ab.Ue.l, lea^ in- a 
 u anted ..f sm.w fo.ir feel deep ..n the level. Ih.un.u: U-n week. f,dlo«iui; ihc.e wa> a s.icccMon 
 
 , f he ivy >now. a e-atin-. with the pieviou. M. .w. n..i le., than seven feet, slei-hin;^ continu.n- 
 
 ui.lil April, an.l :;:n:snow bank, were vi-ible >„ .n May. The onlv ,eal , I dei.hin, of the 
 
 ea-on was previ')iis t.. ChrisU 
 
 ■ .\ married ayiicnitiiial labourer 
 
 >, as the later Mrw . were -o .leep a-t.. make Uavellini; .l.M.culi, 
 
( 40 ) 
 And in regard to the lengtliening of the day at tliis season : 
 
 At New-Year's day a cock's stride, 
 At Candlemas-day an hour wide. 
 
 It was also the belief of the superstitious that on this day the 
 ground-hog came out of his hole, but if he saw his shadow he went back, 
 anil there were six weeks more of winter. 
 
 March. 
 
 March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb. 
 
 March comes in with an adder's he.ad and goes out with a peacock's tail. 
 
 March, man)' weathers. 
 
 Such were the opinions held of old concerning this month in Lopat- 
 cong, — -season of wind, rain, and sleet! Vet even now the tree is feeling 
 the throbs of the new life to which it is just awakening. Here and there in 
 the forest were large maple groves. The sap is running plenteously, and 
 Mr. r.rakele)' and Rodney collect the year's supply of syrup and sugar^ 
 an important item in the household economy of that olden time. 
 
 March wiwU and April sh.iwers 
 Bring forth May Houers. 
 
 So many mists in March you see, 
 .'^o many frosts in May will I.e. 
 
 March d..es from A|,id gain 
 Three days, and tJicy're in rain; 
 Return'd l>y April in had kiiul. 
 Three days, and they're in wi[id. 
 
 March wind and May sun 
 
 Make clcthes while and nianK dun. 
 
 The roads are in a very mudiiy conditinn and wellnigh impassable, 
 as the frost is just leaving the ground. It is hardly possible to take tiie 
 women folk even a-horseback to the .Straw Church Sundays, which some- 
 times accounts for the small attendance there. 
 
 Al'KIl,. 
 
 The lice d..th lov,' ihc swcctcl llower, 
 •So doth the blossom llic Aprd shower. 
 
 April showers l.ring May llnwcrs. 
 
 .Sweet as an A|)ril meadow. 
 
 This 
 
( 41 ) 
 
 This is a most dcliglitful season in I.opatconi;. Tlic woods arc 
 vocal with bird son:4s. TIic buds of the trees begin to swell and burst into 
 leaf. And the crocuses are abloom in tlie old garden. It is a l)usy time 
 for the husbandman. The spring plowing and seeiling must be done, but 
 Mr. l^rakeloy cannot resist the temptation to spend a tla)' abroad in his 
 favoiirite haunts. " In those vernal seasons of the j'ear, wlien tiie air is 
 calm and pleasant, it were an injury and sullenness against Nature not to 
 go out and see her riches antl partake in her rejoicings with heaven and 
 earth." — Mil roN. 
 
 Vet this sudden transition from winter to sunmier is attended some- 
 times witii disastrous llt)ods. The snow antl ice melt in the warm sun, often 
 there is a superabundance of rain, and ever)- rivulet becomes a raging 
 torrent. The rivers are swollen beyond their bank> and cause immense 
 destruction. About the year 1754, there was the greatest flood which 
 Mr. Brakeley remembered. It rained continuously for nearly a fortnight 
 anil the deep snows of the winter went off in devastating waters. 
 
 .Vpiil an.l M.iy arc the kt-y, .if the « lu,lc ycai. 
 
 .■\ col. I .\|.r;l the b.un will 1.11. 
 
 When .\i,nl Mows hi> horn. 
 It's gon.l (i.r Ij.jtli h.iy .iml cun. 
 
 .Sow pe.i-. aii.l be.ins in the w.uu: of tlie 1110011, 
 Who soweth them Mjoiier, he sowelh loo soon.' 
 
 M.w. 
 
 The iiR-irie month of M.iy. 
 .•\, welcome .is (lowers in M.iy. 
 
 The woods and fields are fresh and verdant, f)r summer-time .ip- 
 [iroaches. Tilling and pl.mting the soil engages the husbandman. It is 
 also the best month of all the year for trout-fishing, for which in early d.i\s 
 the I.opatcong stream was tamous. 
 
 He ulio iMihcs in M.iy 
 
 Will s.„.n l.e l.ii.l in clay; 
 
 lie wh.. b.uhes in June 
 
 Will siiiy a merry tunc; 
 
 lie who luthes in July 
 
 Will ■l.mcc like .iliv. 
 
 .\ 
 
 ' TlK.t they, with y" |.I.uict. may ic^l an.l ii-c. 
 
 .\ii.| Ih.urivli with l.e.uini; nio,t |.|cnlirul wi-c.— '/», ,/. 
 
 7 
 
( 42 ) 
 
 A wu May will I")1I tlie mow full „( ]v^y. 
 
 A swarm of bees in May 
 K wurili a load of hay ; 
 A swarm of bees in June, 
 Is woitli a silver s])onn ; 
 A sivarni of bees in July, 
 Is not wu.lh a lly* 
 
 If ynu liM.k at your coin in May, 
 "V'ou'll come weepiny away ; 
 If y..n look at tile same m June, 
 ^■..u•ll t..me home in another tune. 
 
 When the (loi^wdcid-hlossoni turns yellow, it is Iii_L,rli time to plant 
 corn, wliich \v,is the prinLijial crop. 
 
 J.N,-.. 
 
 In this month occurs one of the most important epochs of the year. 
 ( )n the iiiorninL; of the 2 1st d.iy, the stin reaches his extreme point of North- 
 ern declination and inaugurates the Summer Solstice. The great central 
 orb now pours his most intense rays upon the earth and his departing light 
 lingers longest ahove the horizon. The \alley is beautiful and peaceful in 
 these siift summer days. The roses blociui profusely, clambering fcjr sup- 
 port about the eaves of the old manor Ik mse. The fields are white with 
 daisies and other wild Howers and the air is redolent with their fragrance. 
 
 Calm we.illin in June 
 
 The corn is jilowed .uid the giaiuTulds guaixled to ]ire-vent the 
 depredations of wild turke)-s and piL;ions. It m.iy surprise some of my 
 readers to learn how great .i pest these wild fowl weie in those ilays. Some 
 of the fields, at a distance horn the house, were sunomuied by woods, ,md 
 it was necessai)' to \\.ilcli them careftilly. 
 
 The ha)' is cut -,i \ery dilfeient matter nowadays. A late writer 
 remarks upon the re\i >liition which has t.d<en i)lace in the methods of hus- 
 bandry diu-ing tlu' ]ienod df .t geniniticin. Seientifirk discover)- and skill in 
 the construftion ol kiln iiii -sa\ iiig m,ichiner\' liavi- accomplished greater 
 changes in the haj-ing field ih.iu in tin- UM|-ksho|). 
 
 -Not mail)- years .i;mi, liayin- was tin; most labotnious occupation on 
 firms. Ii t-m])loyi(l not only all the men and boys on the place. l)ut all tliat 
 
 coukl 
 
 -'■ Take 1,,-e.l In s' lues, yl are le.i.ly to sw.nnie. 
 
 •Ihe h.sse N'" of n.iw .s a Clown's woith ol li.nine.— 7>/.M,r. 
 
( 4.^, ) 
 could bo procured in the ncij^libDuriiii; villai^c;. Oficii many kinds of linsi- 
 ness were suspended to i,'i\c men an opportunity to work in the liayinij-fi -Id. 
 Tliey were sure of receivini^ higlier wa<4es than could he obtained in in'st 
 other employments. Not unfrequcnti)' uomenanil children lent an helpiiiL^ 
 hand. They s|)read out the ;^reen <.;ra^s from the swaths, raked it when dry 
 anil "followed the cart" that the men weie loallin;.^^ It was Ljenerally 
 necessaiy to employ all the available help in the nei;_;hbourhood in ortler to 
 secure the ha)' crop in proper season. I laymakers were oblis^ed to work 
 \ery Unv^ hours. The mowers were e.xiiected to be up at <la)'li;.4ht and to 
 be in the field before sunrise. Time was often too |)recious to admit of 
 gointj to the f.irmdiouse to obtain meals. " .Make ha\-," 'tuas said. '' whilst 
 tl'.e sun shines." .So lunch and dinner were brouyiit out to the field and 
 supper was not eaten until too dark to ailmil of workin;^'. With the many 
 lab>>urers, the harti work and the Iohl; hours, the has'iUL; season wa-; 
 extended throucjh fully two months. 
 
 IIa)-inL; has become coni[)aiati\ely easy woilc, empIo_\-inL; onl_\- the 
 ordinar_\- number of farmdiands. ( )ld men, women, twirls and l)o\-s are no 
 lonj,'er seen in the lias'inLj-field. Tlure is nothing for them to do. The 
 hours tor h.i\-in,L; are no lon;,'er than for planting,' and cultiv atin|4. It is not 
 necessai}- to cut ;,'rass wiiiLst the ilew is upon it because the wfu'k is tione 
 easier. The machine and the horses that draw it never complain of bein;,; 
 fatigued. The labourer does not go to the field in the morning twilight 
 nor rem.iin until tlu^k. I'armers raise no root-crops for feeding nor sow 
 r\'e for winter pasturage. 
 
 All tile ])astoral ])oets from Migil to Word-\\oi th ha\-e -^ung of the 
 merry ha)-makers. The p.iinters of e\'< r_\- l.uid have transferred the piclui- 
 esque scenes of the haying-field to cam. is. They have shown the mowers 
 bending to theii' work, tiie boys spreading out the giass to dr_\-, the women 
 and girls, clad in scarlet fiocks, with g>psy bonnets on their heads, 
 raking the ha)', and the strong men ])it< hing it upon the carts and buililing 
 the rick. 
 
 '■ I know nothing." writes an I'".ng!ish no\elist,"-o cheerful, so genial, 
 ami yet so peace-bestowing, as the sound, in the fir>t hours of the morning, 
 ot the whetting of scythes. It is the hap]))- mean between utter rural silence 
 ami tile roar of tlie crowded city; so exhilarating, so sociable, and \et so 
 imdistur!)ing is its unaffected niusick. Wli.it a (juiet, happ\- laugh there is 
 in it! What lialf-suhdued iiumour, w iiat friendly good-nature ! The somul 
 never cea^eil. l'"ield after fielil took up tlie m.igick moinmg musiek. Some 
 times it w.is phiyetl on a perfect orciiestia ol instruments." 
 
 In.v 
 
( 44 ) 
 
 July. 
 
 The Dog-Days begin in this month. Our ancestors supposed that 
 when the dog-star is in conjunftion with tlie sun, the sea boils, wine ferments, 
 dogs go mad and all other animals languish. It is produftive in men of 
 boils, phrensies and malignant fevers. Physick should be eschewed at this 
 time and suffer nature to work out her own cure. 
 
 The grain is ripe and fit to cut during the forepart of this month, 
 which was done slowly and labouriously with the scythe. But what merry 
 scenes followed! How the good folk of the Olden Time celebrated the 
 decline of the year, and the joyous youths and maidens danced by the light 
 of the moon! This celebration was called the Harvest Home and took 
 place after the crops were safe!}' garnered. 
 
 Aui.uvr. 
 
 The harvest is over, but now it is time to clear off new ground and 
 prepare for seeding. The forest rings with the woodman's a.\ and a loud 
 crash is heard as some giant tree totters and falls. The branches are lopped 
 off, the underl)rusli gathered in heaps and the earth grubbed and made ready 
 to receive thi; seed. At this season of the year, vegetation is easily killed 
 and the tree when once cut down is less like!)' to sprout again. When 
 perfectly dry, the brush is burned,, usually by night, and sometimes the 
 whole Vcdley is lighted up with the numerous clearing fires. 
 
 SkpthmhivR. 
 
 This is the fruit month. Apples are ripe and the grapes growing 
 wild in the woods. The seeding is eompleted* and the corn is cut and 
 shocked before the frost catches it, which is [jretty sine to come before the 
 29th, Michaelmas-tla}-. 
 
 The moon of this month is called the 1 hu-vest Moon.t 
 
 October. 
 
 » Wife, s<,nu- liniL- this wci-ki-, if tin- w>-,uIilt 1i..1,I clc.ir, 
 An cii.l ..f whr.ii-M.wiiig wc ni.ikf (",,i ihi, yean- ; 
 RliiiliiiI.i-i ynil, tluiLfovc, tlm' 1 do ,1 „,,t. 
 'I'iK- -i-f.l ijk.-.tho imsiu;^,.iM.l fiiriiunlic |.ot.— 7Vtw. 
 t 'I'he JJaivcst M..i.n is the full nuioii wIulIi fulls on or near the 2Ist of tills moml). ll-, 
 jieculiarily is ih.it it rises more clusely after sunset for .i number of ni,i;lits after the full tli.ui .my 
 other full in. ion in the year. This results in four or live suece.ssive ni;.^hts being almost luo.mlit, 
 an.l the opportunity thus -iveii for ev.uiii;; work in harve^tin- has le.l lo the name of this full 
 in.ion. The ilillerenee belvveelilhe moons time of ii,nm on suceessive niijlits avera-es about 
 
{ 45 ) 
 
 ()CT<iIii;K. 
 
 The mountains arc gorgeous in their many coloured ^arl) Tlie 
 sharp frosts have clyetl tlie foliage a clee[) crimson or yellow. 'Ihc \c ar is 
 growing old, hut jjcrh.ips at no other season is the valley so beautiful. 
 
 Come, l)0\'s. Tile corn must be husked and garnered, althougii it 
 IS pleasant to take a day off to hunt w il<l turkeys, quail, pheasants .mtl 
 scjuirrels, which are now plentiful. Hut afti r all there was no sport equal 
 to coon-hunting with Rodne\'. The coon is in prime condition, having 
 lateK' been making sad lia\ock in the corn fields, and Mr. Rrakele\- confi-t 
 to ha\ing spent whole nights in the cliase. 
 
 Nuts are ripe and a full supply is gathered for the winter, p.iitii ul.uly 
 of walnuts, hickory-nuts and chestnuts. To go a-nutting w.is a taxounte 
 diversion with the young folk. 
 
 The moon of this month is called tin- Himtcr's .Moon. 
 
 NiiXEMIlKK. 
 -All early winter — a muIv winter. 
 
 The ilays are growing perceptibly shorter.* The leaves have fallen 
 and the forest has taken on a dtdl, leaden Inn-. The air is r.iw aiul chill)', oftm 
 l)hister_\\ Winter ap|)rii,iches. It is now that most danger is apprehended 
 from forest fires. Mr. Hr.ikelc)- has seen ilie mountains ablaze — a gr.iiul 
 sight — and licaril the crackling of the devouring llames in the \.ille)- below. 
 
 (ireat 
 
 lilt) llllllnte^. 'I'lic (,'reatest clillereiKe uci-ur-. in the S|ii im;, when it may reach an lioiir ami a 
 half. The Harvest Moon may rive over half all h^iir Lite each ni-ht, whilst iimler the i.:'.-\ 
 favourable conditions the <liflerence is only ahuut ten miniile-. The fullnio.n following Sep- 
 temlier likewise rises hut liitle later fiom niyht to ni^hl, an<l is c.illerl the Hunter's Moon. The 
 inoon orhit makes the least anj;le with the hori/uii at the .Vulunin e.|uiMox, anil as it Iccomes, in 
 ailvancing one day's journey aloiij; its orbit, less de|iressei.l lielow the liori/oii than at any other 
 lime it has but a litlle t;realer hour angle to travel over each suceecdinj; night aflei sunset lo lain.; 
 it into view. Hence the full nio.)n for s,, many successive evenings in the last of Sei'Iemher. 
 
 - In the longwinlei evening, one candle was necessary — t«.j were a luxury; allh. ugh 
 the bright light from the fireplace oftentimes sullieed. 
 
 My great aiinl gave nie an interesting .account of the ( )ldeii- Time method of making tiie. In 
 lier girlhood, the tinder box and llini was in common use— a small box coiit.iiiiing punk that U' iild 
 catch a spark when struck from a Hint by a |iiece of steel. There was no other way to procure a 
 light, although the boys could sd i,,w ahre with the gun. The lirst improvement was a cm 
 bustible compound, the chief ingredient of which was pli..s|,hoius. This was contained in a bollle. 
 into which a stick was thrust. It wa. kept ■•» the highest sh.lf of the pantry, out of the reach of 
 children. The next iinpiovenu nl «a, by drawmg a siu k through two sheets of sand paper. .At 
 last, matches were invented. 
 
( 4':- ) 
 
 Great destruction is sometimes \vn:)ught — liuildinL^'^s and fences burned and 
 timber dcstrciyed— before it can be quenched. The whole coiiimunit}- — 
 men, women and children — turn out to fight the dread monster. 
 
 Uurinc; this month there is a season of mild, soft weather lasting a 
 week, or at most a few da)'s. The atmosphere is hazy but calm. It is the 
 Indian Summer, — summer lingering on the threshold of winter as if loth to 
 depart. 
 
 A^ tlie wind is in tlie muiuli iif NoveniliL-i- so it will be iji DccemljiT. 
 
 'riiuiuU-i in Xoveml't-r indicates a fertile ye.nr to c^me. 
 
 If there I.e ice in Xovendier that will l.ear a duck, 
 •riiere will lie notliinj,' llieiealter l.m sleet and muck. 
 
 If St. M.-aJin's day (Novenil.er Ilthi lie cold, fair and dry, the cold in wintei will nut 
 
 If the geese stand mi ice St. Martin's day 
 They will walk in mud Chrisiinas day. 
 
 When in November the water rises, it uill show itself the wliole winter. 
 
 As November 21st so the wliole wintei. 
 
 As St. I'aiherine's day ( Xoveniber 29th!. f lul or fair, so «ill be next Fclunaiy. 
 
 As November, SI, the followint; March. 
 
 If the leaves of the trees and i;rai.e-vine, d. t fall befoie Martin^, day, a eld winter 
 
 ni ly be exiiected. 
 
 Decemukk. 
 
 Winter has come at last! During the past month, it gave frequent 
 adeioiiitious (if its ap|)roach — frost}' nights and light squalls of snow. Htit 
 here it is in earnest. Copse and chise are enveloped in a far-reaching, white 
 mantle anrl cold winds pre\'ail. The firmer sl.iughters his swine just as 
 soon now as the moon is right and cures ami salts down the meat. The 
 bee-trees which Mr. Br.ikele_\- antl Rodiuy found dtu-ing the summer are ctit 
 aiu! the hive i)illaged of its hoartl of lioiie)'. Deer-stalking is in seasiin and 
 mail)- a fine saddle of \em'soii graces tlu- himible board or is taken down the 
 river to e.\ehange for househokl commodities. The women folk are bus)-, 
 spimiing and we.tviug. But in the- long winter e\-e-mng, all gather before 
 til- glowing hearth to listen to the pleasing fic^tions of the storyteller. 
 
 " December crowns the longest nights cif all the \eai* with a superl.) 
 
 picture 
 
 • Tile da\s decrease in leii-lh durin- 1 lecember until the I7ilii.f tlie nmmh. when the 
 inimiiiuni i. u.uhed. ,\ftertliis they remain uf the s.une leii-tli, oh. tin.., until the J51I1, when 
 till le IS a ;;ain uf luir |ireciiins mimile, a taiijjible |iioiif tli.it the sun has turned his face north- 
 w.iid. ( 111 the ;isi the liicrea-e .1111. .unl~ In tliiee niuuites. 
 
( 47 t 
 picture of the glory of tlie hcueiis. -Ihe sk>- is the emh.xlimetU of purity, 
 tlie stars sparkle ami shine with their most resplendent lu-^tre, iiourin- 
 down upon the frost-bound earth their sucet innuenee. When the lull 
 moon makes her rapid « ay over the firmament from sunset to sunrise, her 
 round face is glorious to beliold, as higll above she casts blue siiadovvs 
 over the snow .md a Hood of soft, silvery li.ght." 
 
 How beautiful the country ai)pears in winter garb 1 At Christmas- 
 tide an abundance of snow h.is usually fallen ; indeed, it was consid, red 
 calamitous if the grouml was still bare: 
 
 ;iUi- f.it ol.urJ.v.ir.N 
 
 The festivities of the Holidays close a busy and happy twelvemonth. 
 The brand from the last burning is brought forth to teend the Chn-tnias 
 fire. The hall is gayly decorated with evergreens and a season of merri- 
 ment and good cheer speeds the QUI and welcomes tlie New Year m 
 Lopatcong. 
 
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