■"f '1^ ^. •#; ^^s^' ^J" V » * * °' cv ^■\ ^: ^* '^ >'% Vy^- /V^ -^ <-. '-o^.'T*' ,G^ ""^ .0^ 6°""' A Ao, *o ^' o ^'^^m''^,' ^0 5 °^ ^^;., . \ 'V _l^ <^v' >o ^V**" <,^ -"^ 0' '-^, -^ <5>, * o « ^ ^^'<' V 'tf^^ * o « o ' ,^^ O * . . x. ♦f ^. ■** r*/ ■^ 'o , » * '^0^ c ^o. >' :'^-..- ^ -^^.. o > ^ ^ ^o «1 5» • ^* .o'> ^^- ^^s- ^^'% .'^ "^ .V 4 o ^ ^.^^Viv ^/'\ ^^-^v ^'^'' "^- v^VV^^ '^0^ Ao^ 'oK ^=p •4 o ^ * O H O ' A^ V \^ V-^^ 0' ./ - VIEW OK I.AKK MOIIONK, ULSTER CO., N. Y Iegends OF THE SHAWANGUNK (SHON-GUM) AND ITS ENVIRONS, INCLUDING HISTORICAL SKETCHES, BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES, AND THRILLING BORDER INCIDENTS AND ADVENTURES RELATING TO THOSE PORTIONS OF THE COUNTIES OF ORANGE, ULSTER AND SULLIVAN LYING IN THE SHAWANGUNK REGION. ILLUSTRATED BY NUMEROUS ENGRAVINGS AND PEN SKETCHES BY THE AUTHOR. By PHILIP H. SMITH. II AUTHOR OF "ACAD/A : A LOST CHAPTER IN AMERICAN: HISTORY" : ''THE GREEX MOUNTA l\ HOYS : or, VER.MOWT AND THE NEIY YORK LA .Vd JOBBERS'- : '' HISTORY. OF DUCHESS COVNTY'\- " THE Sf.1 TESMEN OF FODC/NA'".- ETC., ETC. SMITH \: COMPANY, PAWLING, N. Y. Copyright, 1S87. By PHILIP H. SMITH. Ox The Publishers' Printing Company 157 .VND 159 William Street New York PREFACE. WHEN for the first time an Old World traveler :s permitted to behold an American landscape in Autumn, he is transported at the array of gorgeous hues of wliich he had formed no conception. Nowhere does Nature take on a brighter livery than in the vicinity of the Sha wan gunk ; and there needs but the rendering of its history into story by a Scott or a Cooper to immortalize the locality. Here, beneath the effulgent rays of the October sun, there burns, not one bush, but thousands, as with fire, 3^et are not consumed; and here the maple, the sumac, the Virginia creeper, and the expanses of golden-rod and purple asters flood the forests and fields with their matchless coloring. It requires no gi'eat effort of the fancy to picture the bark canoes of the aboriginals still plying upon the bosoms of the many romantic lakes, or swiftly coursing along the beautiful streams that, like sinuous bands of silver, wind among the verdant meadows. One would be pardoned for being deceived into the belief that the smoke from an embowered cottage arose from the embers of an Indian wigwam; and the traveler half expects to meet troops of goblin warriors, as in the Moorish legend, painted and equipped for battle, silently threading the forest over the Indian trails yet clearly traceable through the mountain fastnesses Does the reader desire details of the more tragic sort ? Then lend your at- tention while are told tales of midnight marauders, both white and red, who fell upon unsuspecting and unprotected families along the frontier; hsten while scenes are depicted of by-gone times, when the silence of night was wont to be broken by the screams of affrighted women and children, as the murderous tomahawk was brandished over its victims, and when scalps reeking with gore were borne away in triumph. Every locality in the Shawangunk region has its legend of Indian atrocity, or its story of Revolutionary barbarity: the chain of iv Preface. stone forts yet standing along the river valleys bear testimony to the general insecurity of Ufe in those troublous times. Or if the reader delights in tales of adventures with the wild animals of the forest, of encounters with the nomadic bear, the ferocious panther, or the prowling wolf, and all the exciting experiences of a woodland life, it is hoped the hunting stories of the Shawangunk will constitute a source of thrilling in- terest. It may be that he who has leisure and inclination to scan this volume is of a philosophic turn of mind, and would prefer to trace a reflex of the rehgious sectarianisms and feudal customs of the Old World in the unsettled society of the New. For such a one the history of Eobert Chambers and the Baronetcy of Fox Hall, the story of Lewis Du Bois the Walloon, and the narrative of the Hardenburgh war, all of which are considered at length in these pages, will afford abundant material for reflection. Then, too, the more humble but no less heroic virtues of the pioneer settler, enduring the hardships and privations of a frontier life to the end that he might carve for himself a home in the wilderness — such will form a theme no less fruitful and interesting. It is the usual thing for history to deal exclusively with great events. The conduct of armies, the description of battles, and a record of matters involving the interest of the many, are the topics which absorb the attention of the his- torian, while the individual experiences in the every-day life of the common people are lost sight of altogether. The knowledge that a battle was fought is of less value than a knowledge of the causes that led to it and the issues re- sulting from it; and how can one understand the causes except he enter into sympathy with the masses involved; or how can he sympathize unless he is familiar with their individual sufferings, and with their manner of life and mode of thinking? We know that the battle oC Monmouth was fought; the number and disposition of the contending forces, at what time and by whom the charges were made; the repulses and all the details of the action are mat- ters of record; but the individual experiences and home Hfe of the sterling patriots in the lower ranks that participated in the fight are topics yet unde- veloped. In the preparation of this volume the end is kept in view of sup- plying this deficiency, and thus, in a measure, supplementing the more preten- tious histories. The most fascinating chapters of the past are those so remote that weU- Preface. V established fact and dim tradition become so blended that one can liardly be dis- tinguished from the other. It may be asserted that history then loses its value as an educator, as it no longer stands a tiiithful transcript of the human character. But we should not forget that there can be no more interesting and valuable study of the general character and standing of a community than a research into its current beliefs and traditions, even though the subjects should partake of the nature of myths and fables. The poems of Ossian possess a rare value in that they dehneate the habits and experiences of the people of ancient Ireland and Scotland centuries beyond the limit of so-called authentic history; the same may be said of the works of Homer, however wild and chimerical the stories may appear. It has been said that the most conscientious history is but the development or maintenance of a theory. No man ever witnessed a battle un- biased; it is to this biased source that the historian turns for his facts; these facts are liable to undergo a still furiher change in the ciiicible of his pet theory, and the public must accept the result. Compare the works of English ^vl•iters on the causes and conduct of the war of 1S12 with the versions of the same war by American authors, and, but for the names and dates, one would hardly recognize the same event. But let not the matter-of-fact reader be dismayed. Though the term " legend '' has been made use of in the present volume, no naiTative has been inserted without the authority of contemporaneous history, or well -authenti- cated tradition, " Legend " has a less repulsive sound to the superficial reader than " his- tory:" while the genuine student will readily discern and accept a means of instruction mider whatever guise it is found. For a like reason each topic is complete in itself, thus doing away with the necessity of a consecutive reading of the book. Inasnmch as the vicinity of the Shawangunk is attracting the attention of the public as a desirable place in wliich to spend the summer, it has been thought a Avork of this kind, possessing the value of history and the charm of romance, would be acceptable. \Aliile there is much that is here fomid in print for the first time, all avail- able i)ublished sources have been laid under contribution in its comi)ilation. Ancient records have been rigidly searched with a view of obtaining such facts not only as were new to the public, but such as would be of general interest. The aim has been to make a book as attractive to a citizen of a distant locality as to a resident of the Shawangunk region, and by a judicious selection of vi Preface, topics and a careful revision of the text, to expunge whatever may have been of a local and common-place nature. Several standard local w^orks have been freely quoted, and many of their interesting features embodied in this volume. Of this class we make mention of Stickney's History of Minisink; the Bevier pamphlet, from wliich is obtained much that is valuable of the Revolutionary history of Ulster; Eager's History of Orange County; Quinlan's Life of Tom Quick, etc. These books are now out of print, and some of them command fabulous prices, such is the demand for them. The matter contained in these favorite works nia}^ possess a value in the present dress above that of new facts. We make an especial acknow- ledgment of the com'tesy of E. F. Quinlan, M. D., and also of Hon. George M. Beebe, both of Monticello, N. Y., who kindly consented to our use of the writ- ings of James Eldridge Quinlan, the author of Tom Quick and of the History of Sullivan county. Mr. Quinlan possessed within himself the rare combina- tion of indefatigable research and a pure and forcible diction that claimed the attention of the reader; and his efforts are justly regarded as a standard au- thority on the subjects of which he has treated. Space would fail were we to mention all the favors and facilities afforded us in the works of research. Not the least of the results hoped for in the production of this volume is that this romantic and interesting region may, though its instrumentaUty, come to be better known to the outside world. We shall always treasure the reminis- cences of a summer spent in climbing the mountains, sailing over the lakes, and tracing out the Indian trails in the forests, in our search for the rare and quaint in the annals of the Shawangunk. CONTENTS The Shawangunk and its Environs, The Delawares, The First Esopus AVar, The Second Esopus Wai-, The Esopus Mutiny, The War with the Jerseymen The Mastodon, Catherine DuBois, Grey court Inn, Minisink Battle. Brant and the School-girls, Claudius Smith, Edward Roblin, Lieutenant Burt, The DuBois Homestead, Massacre at Fantinekill, Burning of Warwarsing, Koi-tright's Expedition, Anderson and Osterhout, Polly Tidd, Captivity of Mrs. Coleman. Phebe Reynolds and the Tories, ^liss Land's Midnight Journey, The Tories after the Revolution, Tom Quick, the Indian Slayer, PAGE 1 15 25 30 32 3G 40 4:0 40 57 r.o ()5 (18 70 72 70 87 89 01 95 00 102 105 108 Vlll Contents. Tom Quick and the Indian Muskwink, Tom Quick and the Buck with Seven Skins, Tom Quick's Indian Exploits, Indian Stratagem to Slay Tom Quick, The Savages plan Tom Quick's Capture, Early Settlers of the Shawangunk Region, A Border Alarm, • Sam's Point, or the Big Nose of Aioskawasting, " Gross" Hardenburgh. .... Little Jessie Mitteer and the Bear-trap, A Rival of Israel Putnam, .... Panther Hunting at Long Pond, Bear Hunt on the Mongaup River, Casualty on Blue Mountain, Nelson Crocker and the Panthers,. The Disappointed Groom, .... New Paltz, .... . . Needderduytse Taal te Schawankonk, The Traps, . Shanks Ben, Facts and Fancies, PAGE . 112 . 114 . 116 . 118 . 120 . 122 . 12!) . 132 . 135 . 140 . 143 . 144 . 146 . 149 . 150 . 152 . 154 . 157 . 15;t . 162 . 165 LEGENDS OF THE SHAWANGUNK. THE SHAWANGUNK AND ITS ENVIRONS. THE Shawangunk is a vast aniphitboatre of rocks i)iled into the most fan- tastic shapes, ^vith forests covering its crests and slopes, and sporting the exuberance of Nature's own flower-garden. Here the arbutus, the azalea, and the laurel, successively clothe the sides with vernal beauty. The summits overlook the valleys of the Eondout and Walkill, beautiful as Paradise, where lie the great grazing and dairy farms of world-wide celeb- rity; while eastward can be traced the valley of the Hudson, from Cornwall to the mountains about Lake George. From these airy heights mountain views may be seen such as will strike the beholder with astonishment. On the south the view is bounded by the mountains of New Jersey; the highlands of the Hudson lie to the southeast, with the white sails of sloops and smoke of steamers in Newburgh bay, plainly visible to the naked eye; the Housatonic mountains of Connecticut bound the horizon on the east; the whole hne of the Berkshire mountains of Massachusetts, and portions of the Green mountains of Vermont, may be seen to the northeast; while the Helderbergh mountains on the north, the Catskill and Shandaken mountains on the northwest, and the Neversink mountains on the west, com- plete a panorama in some respects unrivalled in America, If we are moved with emotions of grandeur at the sublime power of the Creator as manifested in this great panorama of mountains, what must be our feelings, when, under the light of geology, we have presented for our contem- plation the convulsions that have brought these mountains into being, and the mutations that have marked their history for unnumbered ages ? The Shawangaulk was old before God had formed Adam out of the dust of the gi"ound, and had breathed into him the l)reath of life; it has witnessed changes in the earth's condition of which the mind can form no adequate con- ception. This globe, geologists say, was once in a fluid state; that in cooling, the unequal contraction of the earth's crust caused some parts to nse above sur- 2 Legends of the Shazvangiink. rounding portions, producing mountain ranges. The whole Appalachian system, of which the Shawangunk forms a part, owes its existence to this agenc3^ They tell us, also, that this continent, mountains and all, was once sub- merged beneath the ocean. Marine shells are to this day found imbedded in the rocky crests of Shawangunk; no theory other than that the waves of old Ocean once beat above it can account for their presence there. This submerging process antedates the period of the deluge of Noah's time, as is indicated by the organic remains, which are those of extinct animals. Palaeontologists estimate the number of species of fossil remains to be more than 12,(»(^0, yet scarcely one of this number has been identified with any crea- ture now living. Gradually the land was elevated to its present level, the ocean receded, and drainage took place from the surface of the earth. Lay bare to-day the rock on which the soil of Sullivan county rests, and it will be found to be fur- rowed and grooved as the agency of flowing water carj'ied on for successive ages is now known to effect. The general direction of these grooves, together with other evidences, show these vast currents to have come from the north and northwest. Some of the natural depressions, as, for instance, the Mama- kating valley, are filled to a great depth by masses of sediment deposited by the water before it receded. There are examj^les of denudation in this vicinity; that is to say, the hills have been worn away and lowered, and the deep valleys made still deeper, by tremendous cataracts and surges, as the water j'ushed violently over high ledges, and fell hundreds of feet into the ^^alley below. While contemplating such a scene, the imagination must fall far short of the reality. The tidal wave that destroyed the port town of Lima, or the surge that overwhelmed the Turkish fleet in Candia, destructive as they were, l)ut faintly shadow the terrific scene. It requires considerable stretch of the fancy to imagine immense icebergs floating over these mountain peaks, as, swayed by the combined action of wind and current and tide, they impinged against the sides and tops of the elevations, causing those huge rents and fissures that constitute a distinguishing feature of the mountain scenery of this locality. When the water partially subsided, the ice-floes may have rested on the surface, and were congealed to whatever they came in contact with; and, as they were subsequently borne up on the flow of the tide, they detached tons of rock from its parent bed; then, floating over mountain and valley, the debris was deposited when the wasting away of the ice loosened its hold. This seems to be the most plausible theory in accounting for the fact that masses of Shawangunk grit, w^eighing many tons each, were carried up the western slope and over the tops of the Shawangunk mountain, and deposited near Newburgh, where we now find them. The series of elevations composing the Shawangunk have a decided Alpine character; that is to say, there are numerous peaks elevated above genera] The Sliawangiink and its Environs. 3 siiniinits, ^vhile the suiiiniits theinselves are broad, Avild and rocky. In many l)laces the declivities are precipitous and i-ugged in the extreme. There are occasional depressions, or passes, which are locally known as "cloves." The " Pass of the Mountains," at Otisville, on the line of the Erie railroad, is well worthy of study. Near the i)oint where the Millbrook stream flows down into the Walkill valley, is a series of remarkable mural precipices, from 300 to 000 feet in per- pendicular height. This adamantine wall of parti-colored rock, constitutes one of the disting-uishing features of the momitain; and a raniljle upon its dizzy heights, where a walk has been laid out along the very brink, provided one's nerve is strong enough, is an achievement long to be reniemV)ered. On the top of this ledge are found the finest specimens of the far-famed Shawangunk huckleberries. This mountain range, so near to the crowded thoroughfare, yet character- ized by such wild and picturesque scenery, with deep intervening valleys, and abounding in natural lakes, has much to interest the artist and the seeker after rest and health. The shades of tint and color, varying with the course of the seasons and the daily changes of the weather, are not to be sm'passed in any quarter of the world. Lying at intervals on the very summit of this mountain, are several con- siderable lakes of remarkable depth and clearness. Lake Mohonk is especially a romantic body of water, surrounded by masses of huge rocks piled in heaps a hundred and fifty feet high. When twilight descends upon the bosom of the lake, and the great rocks that bend over it send out their shadows athwart its dark expanse, it blends the gloomy, the grand, and the picturesque in a scene that is full of sublimity. Washington Irving, who once journeyed over this mountain in company with Martin Van Buren, tlms describes his impressions: " The traveler who sets out in the morning from the beautiful village of Bloomingburgh, to pursue his journey westward, soon fuids himself, by an easy ascent, on the summit of the Shawangunk. Before him will generally be spread an ocean of mist, enveloping and concealing from his view the deep val- ley and lovely viUage which lie almost beneath his feet. If he reposes here for a short time, until the vapors are attenuated and broken by the rays of the morning sun, lie is astonished to see the abyss before him deepening and opening on his vision. At length, far down in the newly revealed region, the sharp, white spire of the village church is seen, piercing the incumbent cloud; and as the day advances, a village, with its ranges of bright colored houses and ani- mated streets, is revealed to the adnnring eye. 80 strange is the jirocess of its development, and so much are the houses diminished by the depth of the ravine, that the traveler can scarcely beheve he is not beholding the phantoms of fairy- land, or still ranging in those wonderful regions which are unlocked to the mind's eye by the wand of the god of dreams. But as lie descends the western decUvity of the momitain, the din of real life rises to greet his ear, and lie soon 4 Legends of the Shaivangunk. penetrates into the niidst of the ancient settlement, of which we have before spoken. ' ' Men are now Hving in the environs of the Shawangunk whose experience there reads Uke a western romance. They will tell yon of camping in the woods at night, sleeping on a bed of hemlock boughs with only the sky for a covering, on the very spot where populous villages are now located; where, in place of the sound of church bells, and the scream of the locomotive, their ears were greeted with only the shrill bark of the fox, the howl of the wolf, and the sough- ing of the wind in the tree-tops. The mythology of the ancients clothed inanimate nature with a new and poetic interest. Every meadow had its fairy, every forest its wood-nymph, and every cascade its water-sprite; while flowery nook and woodland glade were peo- pled with a merry crew that danced in the light of the harvest-moon, or sported at will in the dew-bespangled grass. These creations of the fancy, while adding a new interest to rural localities, helped to lift the mind out of the prosaic ruts which a dull routine of toil induces, and gave the imagination something more agreeable to dwell upon than the humdrum cares and responsibilities of life. In like manner it may be said that history and ti'adition have lent an added charm to the natural beauties of the Shawangunk region. Every lonely road has its tale of tragedy, and every mountain pass its story of encounter with wild beast or savage Indian* every lake has its legend, and every stream its store of border incident. For untold ages before the advent of the white man the catamount here made liis lair, the bear roamed in search of mast, and the deer fed on the lily pads in the ujDland lake. The wild Indian hunted through its fastnesses, fished from its streams, and, with stealthy and cat-like tread, followed the trail into his enemy's country. The rocky sides of old Shawangunk have more than once been reddened with the lurid glare of burning homes; its precipices have echoed back the groans of the dying frontiersmaii, laid low by a shot from an ambushed enemy; the night winds have borne along its rugged outline the shrieks of women and the wails of children, mingled with the w^ar- whoop of the savages, as the work of carnage went on. Here, too, as we have before intimated, may be found a wealth of rare attractions to the student of geology — in fact, such as will interest aU who desii'e to read the great lessons of creation traced by a Divine hand upon the rocky strata of the mountains, or in the fossils imbedded in the peat and marl of the lowlands. Cabinets of rare value may be collected along these hiUs and at the excavations of the mines, during a very brief interval of leisure. The rocks composing the Shawangunk are mainly the shells and sandstones of the Chemung group. " Shawangunk grit " crops out on the west side of the mountain, and has been quite extensively used as millstones, locally knowai as " Esopus millstones." The entire mountain has been pretty thoroughly ex- amined from presumed indications of veins of coal. The Shawa7igu)ik and its Environs. e At the foot of the westeni slopt; tlu' IJasliaskill and Xevorsink river flow southwardly; on the east side the Sliawaiigiink kill runs in a northerly direction, all the streams lying close under the base of the mountain. This same pecu- liarity is observed in the WalkiU and Hudson rivers, their general course lying ])aral]('l to each other, yet flowing in opposite directions. •"S^-i- ^ w-^ A NATIVE SHAWANO INKKIt The whole range is intersected by metalHferous veins. Besides, the vicinity is so full of traditions of Indians obtaining botli lead and silver in abundance, and at so many points in the mountain, that it is looked ujion as a bed of ores of undisputed riches. The openings to the mines were carefully concealed, as IS asserted, by the Indians ajid early settlers, and with tlieir death })erished all 6 Legends of the SJiaivangwik. knowledge of the location of the minerals. Stickney relates an acconnt given of two men who worked a silver mine somewhere in the mountain, previous to the Eevolutionaiy war. This mine was shown them by some Indians; they carried on operations with the utmost secrecy, working only at night, and mak- ing long and mysterious journeys to dispose of their ore. When the Avar broke out they joined the army, eacli pledging the other not to reveal the secret until the war was ended. One cold, dark night they drew a large flat stone over the mouth of the mine, strewed leaves over the place, and at the distance of thirty paces east marked three trees which stood close together. One of the men never returned from the war; the other was absent nine years. His family meanwhile had fled for safety to a distant village, and his first duty was to look after their welfare, and provide for them another home in the forest in place of the one destroyed. When he had leisure to look after the mine he found that predatory bands of Indians had burned the marked trees, and obliterated the natural landmarks, and he was unable to locate the mouth of the mine. No one has to this day removed that stone from the entrance to this cavern of mineral treasure. Another old gentleman related that his father once saw the mine. At his earnest and repeated solicitations, a friendly Indian chief consented to take him to it, but he must allow himself to be blindfolded. He was accordingly led for a distance into the wilderness up hill and down dale, and finally went down into the heart of the mountain, as he judged by the dripping of the water on the rocky sides of the cavern. At length the bandage was taken from his eyes, and he stood before a solid vein of silver. Though he many times searched all through the mountain, he could never afterwards find the p^ace. Old residents say "every seven years a bright light, like a candle, rises at twelve o'clock at night above the mine, and disappears in the clouds; but no one that has ever seen it has been able in daylight to find from whence it arose." It is related that the savage Unapois, beholding a gold ring on the hand of a white woman, demanded why she carried such a trifle. He was answered by the husband of the lady, ' ' If you will procure me such trifles I will rewnrd you with things suitable for you." " I know," said the Indian, "a mountain filled with such metal." "Behold," continued the other, "what I will give you f oi' a specimen, ' ' exhibiting a fathom of red and a fathom of blue frieze, some white lead, looking-glasses, bodkins and needles, and tendering the savage an escort of two soldiers. The Indian declined the escort, but accepted the presents, and promised to give a specimen; if it gave satisfaction he might be sent back with some of the white people. After some days the Indian returned with a lump of ore as large as his fist, which was found to be of good quality, and a considerable amount of gold was extracted from it, and made into rings and bracelets. The Indian was promised further presents if he would disclose the situation of this mountain. Unapois consented, but demanded a delay of a few days, when he could spare more time. This Avas acceded to, and after having received more presents he returned to his TJie Dclawares. j nation. He indiscreetly boasted of his presents, and declared the reason of their presentation, which led to his assassination by the sachem and others of his tribe, lest he should betray the situation of the gold mine. There was a predic- tion current among the Indians to the effect that after their people had passed through a period of punishment for some great offence they had committed, the Great Sj^irit would once more smile upon them and restore them to the land of their fathers, and they wished to reserve those mines against their I'eturn. THE DELAWARES. THE Indian of the Western continent belongs to the "bow and arrow" family of men. To him the chase meant everything. When tlie advent of Europeans drove the deer from the forests and the beaver from the natural meadows, and the pm^suit of hunting was no longer profitable, the red man pined and wasted away as though his life was robbed of everything that made existence desirable. The Indian could form no higher ideal of earthly happi- ness; and liis most blissful conception of Paradise was that of a hunting-ground abounding in game, and where the streams and lakes swarmed with fish. A characteristic of the American Indian is a dislike of restraint. A degree of personal independence incompatible witli a state of society in which each individual's actions are modified from consideration for his neighbor, has ever caused the Indian to chafe under the restrictions imposed by civilization. The greatest chief among them had no delegated authority. His power to rule was fomided on public opinion, and when that was against him, he was no more than a common savage; but when largely in his favor, his power was despotic. To be foremost in danger, and bravest in battle, were requisites necessary to sustain himself in authority. Another propensity of the Indian is a passion for war. He followed the war-path because it gratified the most deei)ly seated principle of action in the savage breast, a thirst for revenge; and also because that was the only means by which he might hope to satisfy his ambition, and rise to a position of au- thority and influence in his tribe. With the aboriginal the forgiveness of an injury w^as reckoned a weakness, wiiile revenge was considered among the nobler virtues. Tales of bloody, retributive vengeance were told about their council fires, by way of inciting the young warriors to deeds of similar daring. The Indian believed in a Great Spirit, everywhere present. He believed also in the existence of subordinate spirits, both good and bad. He belonged to a singularly superstitious race, and put the most im[)licit faith in dreams and omens. When disease came among them, Avhen the chase was unsuccessful, when their crops failed or they Avere defeat;'d in war, they thought the Great Spirit was displeased with them; at such times they would perform rehgious 8 Legends of the Shawangunk. cei'einonies with great earnestness and solemnity, by vv^ay of propitiation of his wrath. Among them the dance was universal; but it was not for purposes of pas- time, as among civilized nations. It had a deeper signification. It was a solemn ceremony, and was an outward expression of their sentiments of religion and war. It is the logic of events that the red man yields to the conquering foot of the Saxon. The weakei- race has withered from the presence of the stronger. " By the majestic rivers and in the depths of the solitary woods, the feeble son of the ' bow and arrow ' will be seen no more; the cypress and hemlock sing his requiem." The Delawares related a legend to the effect that jnany centuries ago their ancestors dwelt far in the western wilds. Emigrating eastvvardly, after many years, they arrived on the Nammsi Sipu (Mississippi), where they encountered the Meugwe (Iroquois), who had also come from a distant country. The spies of the Delawares reported that the country on the east of the river was inhabited by a powerful nation, dwelling in large towns erected upon the principal rivers. This people were said to be tall and robust, warlike, and of gigantic mould. They bore the name of Alligewi (Alleghany); their towns were defended by regular fortifications, many vestiges of which are yet apparent. The Delawares, requesting to establish themselves on their territory, were refused; but obtained leave to pass the river that they might seek a habitation farther to the eastward. The Alligewi, alarmed at their numbers, violated their word and destroyed many of the Delawares who had reached the eastern shore, and threatened a like fate to the remainder, should they attempt the passage. Roused at this act of treachery, the Delawares eagerly accepted a proposition from the Mengwe, who had hitherto been spectators of the occurrence, to unite with them for the conquest of the country. A war of extermination was then commenced, which eventuated in the expulsion of the Alligewi, who fled from their ancient seats never to return. The devastated country was apportioned among the conquerors, the Meiigwe choosing the neighborhood of the lakes, and the Delawares appropriating the territory further to the south. For many years the conquerors lived together in much harmony. Some Delaware hunters, having penetrated far into the forest, discovered the great rivers, the Susquehanna and Delaware; and crossing the Skeyickhy (New Jer- sey) country, came at last to the Mahicannittuck (Hudson river) Upon their return to their nation, they described the country they had visited as abounding in game, fish, fowl and fruits, but destitute of inhabitants. Summoning together their chiefs and principal men, after solemn and protracted delibera- tion it was concluded that this was the home destined for them by the Great Spirit; and thither the tribe went and took up their abode, making the Delaware river, to which they gave the name of Lenapewihittuck, the centre of their possessions. The Delazvarcs. 9 The Meiigwe, tluis left to themselves, hovered for a time on the Itorders of the great lakes with their canoes, in readiness to fly should the AUigewi return. Having grown holder, and their numbers increasing, they stretched themselves along the St. Lawrence, and became near neighbors to the Dela wares on the north. In process of time the Mengwe and the Delawares became enemies. The latter said the Mengwe were treacherous and cruel, and jmrsued an insidious and destructive i)olicy towards their more generous neighbors. Not dai-ing to engage in open warfare with the more powerful l)ela\v(U'es, tlie Mengwe i< -sorted to artifice to involve them in a war with distant tribes. Each nation had a ]>articular mark upon its Avar-clubs, which, placed beside a murdered victim, denoted the aggressor. The Mengwe killed a Cherokee warrior, and left with the dead body a war-club with the mark of the Delawares. The Cheiokees, in revenge, fell ui)on the latter, and commenced what proved to be a long and bloody Av^ar. The treachery of the ^lengwe was at length discovered, and the Delawares turned upon their perfidious neighbors with the avowed pui'pose of extei-mina- tion. They were the more induced to take this step, as the camiibal practices of the Mengwe'"- had reductnl that nation, in the estimation of the Delawares, below the rank of human beings. Hitherto the tribes of the Mengwe had acted each under its particular chief. Being so sorely pressed by the Delawares, they resolved to form a confedei'a- tion, the better to control their forces in war, and regulate their affairs in peace. Thanwewago, a ]\Iohawk chief, was the projector of this alUance. Under his auspices, five nations, the Mohawks, Oneidas, Onondagas, Cayugas and Sene- cas, formed a species of republic, governed by the united councils of their aged sachems and chiefs. To these a sixth was afterwards added, the Tuscaroras of North Carolina. The effect of tliis centralization of power early manifested itself. The Iroquois confederacy became a terror to their enemies, and extended their con- quests over a large i)art of the territory lying between the Atlantic and the ]\Iis- sissippi. The Delawares were frequently at war with the Dutch, and, if ti-a- dition is to be believed, the Dutch and Iroquois conspired for their destiiiction. However that may be, the confederated tribes, having been taught the use of fire-arms by the whites, soon asserted a su])remacy over the less fortunate Dela- ware Indians, and the latter were I'educed to the condition of a conquered peoi)le. According to a tradition among the Delawares, their forefathers were once fishing at a })lace where tlie Mahicannittuck widens into the sea, when they beheld a white object floating upon the water. Word was sent to the village, and the people came to view the wonder. Various conjectures were made as to what it could be. Some thought it was an immense animal floating upon * The Mengwe, or Iroquois, sometimes ate llie bodies of tlieir juisonei-s. It is said, too, of the Algonquins, that tliey drank their enemies' blood. lo Legends of the Shawangnnk. the water; others said it was a huge fish; Others still believed it to be a large wigwam. As the apparition moved steadily toward the land, the natives imagined they could discover signs of life in it. Their chiefs and wise men were sum- moned together; after mature deliberation they came to the conclusion that it was a very large wigwam, in which the Great Spirit resided, and that he was coming to visit them. This decision created a profound sensation among those simple children of the forest. The Manitou, from whom they received the choicest gifts, and who so seldom made himself visible to his creatures, was about to land upon their shores, and be seen by them and converse with them. The sacrifice was prepared, the best food provided, and a dance ordered to honor him, and appease his anger if his mood were wrathful. Fresh runners arrived who declared their strange visitant to be an immense floating wigwam, and that it was crowded with living creatures. Later still, other messengers reported the living things were human beings, with pale faces and strange garments, and one of their number was clad in magnificent apparel. The lat- ter they decided was the Great Manitou himself. In due time their wonderful visitors landed. Some of the natives were overcome with fear, and were about to run away and hide themselves in the woods; but the wise men and warriors of the tribe tried to prevent such an ex- hibition of cowardice, and counselled that they unite in giving a fitting recep- tion to their marvellous guests. A large circle of their principal inen was formed, towards which the man in gold lace approached, accompanied by two others of the pale faces. Saluta- tions were given on both sides. The Indians could not conceal their wonder at the brilliant ornaments and white skin of the supposed Manitou; they were sorely puzzled when they found he did not understand the words of his chil- dren, and that he spoke in a language unintelligible to tliem. While they were regarding him with a respectful gravity, a servant brought a large hack-hack (gourd), from which was poured a liquid which the Great Being drank, and then offered to one of the chiefs. The savage looked at it, then smelled it, and was not pleased with its pungent odor. It was then passed to the next chief, who followed the example of the first, and gave the vessel to the one next to him. In that manner it was transferred to each one in the circle, and it was about to be returned to the supposed Manitou, when a great and brave warrior conceived the act would be disrespectful to the Deity, and forthwith harangued the warriors on the impropriety of their conduct. He explained that while it would be meritorious to follow the example of the Mani- tou, to return what he had given them might displease him, and lead him to punish them. The speaker would, therefore, drink the contents of the cup himself, and though he perished, the sacrifice would save his nation from de- struction. Having proclaimed his laudable intention, he bade his followers farewell, and drank the contents of the cup. Soon he began to exhibit signs of intoxication. While the natives were regarding him witli interest, sui)posing TIlc Dclawarcs. i r him to be under the effects of tiie poison, he fell to the ground. His companions imagined he was dead, hut he was only dead diTink. Presently the would-he martyr exhibited signs of life; and when he had sufficiently recovered from his fit of intoxication to speak, he told the assem- bled chiefs that the liquor had given him the most pleasing sensations that he had ever experienced. All of them had an anxiety to feel these sensations. More of the intoxicating beverage was solicited; the cup this time was not passed without being tasted; and a general debauch followed. The supi)osed ]\Ianitou was Henry Hudson; and this was the tii'st visit of the white man to the country of the Dela wares. The territory embraced between the Hudson and the head-waters of the Delaware, now included in the counties of Orange, Ulster and Sullivan, is a region of peculiar interest. Less than three centuries ago these valleys and hills swarmed with villages of the Leni-Lenape; and now not one representative of the aboriginal occupants of the soil remains among the scenes sacred to the memory of his fathers. The story of the causes that led to their extinction, and to the peopling of their Muck-cos-qnit-iu is, or " corn-planting grounds," by pale-faced usurj^ers, is a tale of thrilling interest, and is well worthy a niche in history. The council seat of the Leni-Lenape or Delawares was at Minisink, near the junction of the Xeversink and Delaware rivers. Here the chiefs and prin- cipal men of the nation met to decide the questions relating to the welfare of their people; here they smoked the pii)e of peace, or determined the question of carrying war into the territory of their enemies. Near Cochecton was the Indian village where the clans met, in accordance with their ancient cu.stoms, to celebrate their gi*een-corn dances, their dog- festivals, and indulge in their favorite pastime of La Crosse. On the hanks of the Hudson was the famous Danskamer, or " Devil's Dance Chamber," where burned the religious fires of the natives, that were never suffered to go out, lest the wrath of the Great Spirit should be aroused from their negligence. When the white strangers came from over the sea, these natives shared with them their hunting-grounds, and generously set apart, for their use, fields for planting. Esopus, and other early settlements of Ulster, lay along the old Indian ti'ail connecting the Hudson \\\\\\ the head waters of the Delaware, while the ancient settlement of Peenpack grew and flourisht'd in the heart of the Delaware country. Thus the savages, thrown into frequent connnunion with the whites, were initiated into some of the customs of their more civilized neighbors; while the latter not infrequently adopted some of the habits of their dusky friends. For years the hardy pioneers and their red brothers would live anii(al)ly together, fishing from the same streams, hunting through the same forests, and tilling contiguous fields of corn. Occasional broils would break out be- tween the two races, in which the Indians were not always the aggressors. When savage ferocity was once roused, the work would be decisive and sau- 12 Lege7ids of the Shaivangunk. guinaiy. Without a monieiit's warning, in the silent, unguarded hours of slumber, the settler's home would be invaded with terrific war-whoop and mur- derous tomahawk, and the whole family massacred or carried away into cap- tivit5^ It is to be observed that the difficulties between the Delaware Indians and their white neighbors, which caused so much bloodshed on both sides, oiigi- nated mainly from misunderstandings in regard to lands. The natives claimed, and not without reason, that they were cheated in their transactions with the Dutch; that the latter assumed possession of more land than was sold to them; and that boundaries and lines were altered, and always in favor of the whites. It cannot be denied that the Indians were not always paid the full stipulated purchase price, and were overreached by their more wily pale faces in various reprehensible ways. Lossing, in his " Field Book of the Revolution," gives an instance in point. The natives had conveyed a territory to the "Proprietors of Pennsylvania,*' the boundaries of which were to extend a certain distance on the Delaware or "Great Fishkill" river, and as far back, in a northwest direction, as a man could travel in a day and a half. The Indians intended the depth of the tract should be about fifty miles, the distance a man would ordinarily walk in the specified time. But the purchasers employed the best jDedestrians in the colo nies, who did not stop by the way even to eat while Tunning the line; the expi- ration of the day and a half found them eighty -five miles in the interior ! The Indians boldly charged then] with deception and dishonesty. The "Proprietors" claimed that they had become the owners of the lands within the Forks of the Delaware river, by a regular form of conveyance, and that the Indians had been fully paid for them. The Delawares, on the other hand, denied the validity of the sale, and asserted that they had never received a stipulated consideration. The case was, in 1742, laid before the Six Nations for arbitration, who, after hearing both sides, decided that the dis- puted territory could not be sold by the Delawares, as they were a conquered people, who had lost their right in the soil; that if the lands did not belong to the white people, it was the property of the Six Nations. With two such rivals for claimants, as the scheming whites and the dreaded Iroquois, the Delawares were fain obliged to forego their claim to the disputed territory. Some years ago a quantity of old spurious coin was dug up near Otisville, on the line of the Erie railroad. It was so clumsily executed as to preclude the supposition that it was the work of a gang of counterfeiters. The more reasonable theory is that it was intended to be used to cheat the Indians as they were not the best judges of money. Such treatment ruffled the tempers of the Delawai-es, and predisposed them to make other complaints. They declared that the whites had spoiled their hunting-grounds; that they had destroyed the deer with iron traps; and that the traders of Minisink always made the Indians drunk when they took their peltries there, and cheated them while they were in that condition. The period The Dclawares. 13 of the Frencli and Indian \var Avas now ai)i)roacliino-; and liad the settlers of the Shawangnnk region adopted a different policy in tlieii- ticatnient of the Delawares, and so predisposed their dusky neighbors in their own behalf, many of the atrocities which thrilled and startled tlie people of that frontier would have been averted. While the Dutch and English were building up a wall of enmity between themselves and the Indians by adopting a course of treachery and artifice, the more wily French emissaries were making good use of that very circumstance to incite them against the English occni)ants of the territory, and so win them over to the interests of the French monarch. The results of the over-reaching poUcy of the Dutch and English recoiled with terrible effect on their own heads. The defeat of Braddock, in July, 1755, on the banks of the Monongahela, was another of the causes that led the Indians of the whole territory of the Delaware to take sides with the French. That defeat, so discreditable to the military prestige of Great Britain, entirely destroyed the influence of the Eng- Ush with those tribes. Once the nnnderous tomahawk was unljuried, the whole frontier, from Virginia to the banks of the Hudson, at once felt the dire effects of savage ferocity. The following description does not overstate the reality: " The bar- barous and bloody scene which is now open, is the most lamentable that has ever appeared. There may be seen horror and desolation; populous settlements deserted, villages laid in ashes, men, women and cliildren cruelly mangled and murdered, some found in the woods, veiy nauseous, for want of interment, and some hacked, and covered all over with wounds." During the winter ensuing, the enemy continued to hang on the frontiers. A chain of forts and block-houses was erected along the base of the Kittanning mountains, from the Neversink river to the Maryland line, and garrisoned by fifteen hundred volunteers and mihtiamen under Washington. It may not be generally known that Benjamin Franklin once engaged in a military campaign. He received the appointment of Colonel, and in the service of defending this chain of forts, he began and completed his miUtary career, being convinced that war was not his chosen calling. By September of 1750 it was estimated that one thousand men, women and children had been ^ain by the Indians, or carried into captivity. Property to an immense amount hjid been destroyed, and the peaceful pursuits o^ civil- ized hfe were suspended along the whole fi'ontier. Although Colonel John Armstrong subsequently administered a severe chastisement upon the savages in their den at Kittanning, killing their chiefs, slaughtering their families, and reducing their towns and crops to ashes, yet scalping parties continued to penetrate into the Mamakating and Eondout Kill valleys, some of them ventur- ing into settlements east of the Shawangnnk mountains. Under these circum- stances, for the settlers to remain on their farms was to court death m a hideous form. The majority of the women and children were removed to Rochester, Wawarsing, New Paltz, and other localities fen- protection. 14 Legends of the Sliawangiink. The reduction of Canada by the English, and tlie consequent overthrow of the French power and domination on the western continent, did not afford our frontiers entire immunity from savage atrocity and outrage, as the settlers had hoped. iVn era of better fellowship seemed to be dawning between the two races, which for awhile seemed to promise nnich ; but when the War for Ameri- can Independence broke out, the natives again entered upon the vv^ar-path, urged thereto by British influence, and, as has been asserted, and by facts substan- tiated, by proffers of British gold. The Delawares are no more seen along the rivers and valleys of the Shaw- angunk region. If the blood of the Leni-Lenape of the ]Neversink and Walkill valleys yet flows in the veins of the hving, it is to be looked for in the scattered remnants of the Indian clans of the far distant west. The Indian, like his prototype the Mastodon, who aforetime roamed through these fertile vaUeys, bids fair, as a race, to become extinct. Years ago, a poor, friendless Delaware came into the vicinity, the last of the tribe that was ever seen here. He was last noticed at Bridgeville, Sullivan County, where he ^vas made the sport of a lot of vicious boys. A Mr. Eice, then an invalid, whom all supposed in an advanced stage of consumption, rescued him from his tormentors, and gave him a hat and some money. The Indian received them gratefully, and after gazing thoughtfully for some time on his benefactor, he left the neighborhood, never more to return. Some months elapsed, and the incident had nearly passed out of mind, when Mr. Eice received a letter from the Indian, in which the latter gave a minute description of his complaint, with directions for its cure. The treatment was undertaken, and the remedy proved so effica- cious that Mr. Eice's health was completely restored. The grateful savage had travelled forty miles from his home in the wilderness to deposit his letter in the post-office. Competent judges have pronounced the Delaware language the most per- fect of any Indian tongue, it being distinguished, they say, by "great strength, beauty, and flexibility. " The tribe have left behind them, as mementoes of their former dominion over the soil, names that they gave to mountains, streams and localities. No people, ancient or modern, bestowed more beautiful names on water-courses and valleys than did the Delawares. However long one may have been accustomed to perfect euphony and exact rythm, these appellations delight the ear as does the rich, sweet cadence of the hermit thrush that sings upon their banks — such words, for instance, as Wyoming, Mamekoting, Moya- mensing and Osinsing. Their names of mountains, on the other liand, are harsh and rugged, as Shawangunk, Mohunk, Wachung, Scunnemunk, and others. The Fii'st Esopus War. jc THE FIRST ESOPUS WAR. IT is a peculiar feature of American history that many of the earlier settle- ments owe their establishment to the religious persecutions of the old coun- try. Sometimes the Catholics drove the Protestants from their homes to find refuge in strange climes, as the Fi-ench did the Huguenots at tlie Revocation of the Edict of Nantes; and again we behold a Protestant persecuting diss(^nters and Catholics alike, as the Enghsh did the Puritans of New England and the Romanists of Maryland. Another relic of old Europe, the outcome of the ancient feudal system, was the custom of granting large tracts to individuals called Patroons, thus establishing a system of tenantry, with the Lord of the Manor as the chief head. Both these causes, as we shall see, contributed to the settlement of Ulster county. Holland at that time was denominated a " cage of unclean birds,'' because, it being a government founded on religious tolerance, all religions flocked there. Some English and French Walloons, who had found temporary refuge among the Hollanders, afterward emigrated to America, and settled at Rensselaerwyck. The management of the affairs of the Patroon of that section had been given to Brandt Van Schlectenhorst, " a person of stubborn and headstrong temper." This man was very earnest in defending what he considered the rights of his lord against the Governor of New Netherland and the West India Comi)any. Stuyvesant claimed a jurisdiction about Fort Orange, and insisted that tlie Patroon was subordinate. Van Schlectenhorst denied botli, and went so far as to dispute StuyA'esant's right to proclaim a fast in his jurisdiction. To insure allegiance, the Patroon pledged his tenants not to appeal from his courts to the Governor and Council; and finally, orders were issued for tenants to take tlie oath of allegiance to the Lord of the Manor. This bold jnoceeding Governor Stuyvesant was moved to call a crime. Some of the settlers sided with the Governor, and others with the doughty Van Schlectenhorst; the dispute at last ran so high that the two factions came to blows. Among these tenants was one Thomas Chambers, an Enghshman by birth, "tall, lean, with red hair, and a carpenter by trade." He was one of the Walloons that fied from his home to escape religious persecution, only to find himself involved in the troubles about the proprietary rights of the new coun- try, a quan-el in which he had no interest; subject to the whim of his landlord or his commissary, treated as a slave, and victimized by covetous officers. He and his comi)anions, therefore, cast about them for a new settlement, "where they could work or ])lay, as seemed best to thcin. "' Chambers emigi-ated to the vicinity of Troy; but finding he was still on territoiy claimed by his old land lord, he removed to Esopus, having heai-d the land there was good, and that the savages had expressed a desire that the Christians would come among them. 1 6 Legends of the Shawangunk. Tradition says they landed at the mouth of Esopus Creek, and journeyed up until they reached the flats of Kingston. Here Chambers received a "free gift ' ' of territory from the natives. In 1055 a general war broke out between the Indian tribes on both sides of the Hudson, and the whites of Amsterdam and vicinity. When the news of this outbreak reached Esopus the inhabitants all fled, leaving their stock, dwell- ings and crops to the mercy of the savages. This action was the more necessary, as the few inliabitants were living scattered on their farms, without even a block-house for protection. During their absence" their empty houses and un- protected grain was appropriated by the Indians. Albany records say the farmers returned to their homes as soon as peace w^as restored. It had been the purpose of the Directors of the West India Company to construct a fort at Esopus, and orders had been issued to that effect. The orders were not obeyed, hence the unprotected state of the settlement. The savages had their wigwams all around the farms of the w^hite ])eople, and their maize-fields and bean-patches were near to each other. The hogs, cows and horses of the settlers roamed at will on the untilled flats, frequently de- stroying the crops of the Indian women. This made the Indians mad, and they complained of the depredations of the stock to the owners, but the animals still roamed. Now and then a pig was found dead with an arrow or bullet in it. Now it was the Christian's turn to get mad. Still it might have been possible for the whites and Indians to have Uved together in comparative amity, but for an additional source of trouble. Jacob Jansen Stohl, agent for the Governor at Esopus, wi'ote to Stuyvesant to the following purport : ' ' The people of Fort Orange ( Albany) sell liquor to the Indians so that not only I, but all the people of the Great Esopus, daily see them drunk, from which nothing good, but the ruin of the land, must be the consequence." In these transactions the whites were sometimes more to blame than the savages, and yet they wrote in this wise: " Christ did not forsake us; He col- lected us in a fold. Let us therefore not forsake one another, but let us soften our mutual sufferings. ' ' In a letter from Thomas Chambers to Governor Stuyvesant, dated May, 1058, we find additional evidence of the baneful effects of the strong drink sold to the savages. He writes in substance: " I saw that the savages had an anker (ten-gallon keg) of brandj^ lyii^g under a tree. I tasted myself and found it was pure brandy. About dusk they fired at and killed Harmen -Jacobsen, who was standing in a yacht in the river; and during the night they set fire to the house of Jacob Adrijansa, and the people were compelled to flee for their fives. Once before we were driven away and expelled from our property; as long as we are under the jurisdiction of tlie West India Company we ask your assistance, as Esopus could feed the whole of New Netherlaitd. I have informed myself among the Indians who killed Harmen, and they have promised to deliver the The First lisopus War. 1 7 savage in bonds. Please do not begin the war too suddenly, and not until we liave constructed a strongliold for defense.'' The following month Chambers again wrote: — " We have done our best to apprehend the nmrderer, but have been mockingly refused by the barbarians. In answer to our inquiry who sold them the brandy, the savages refer to no one in particular, but to many, now Peter, then Paul. It is evident that it is not for the sake of selling their stock of beavers alone that they keep near Fort Orange (Albany), where, as the make of the brandy keg proves, the coopers have hardly sufficient time to supply the demand by these people. The sav- ages set fire to the cow-shed, the pig-sty, and then the dwelling-liouse of Jacob Adrijaensen, and not being satisfied, compelled us here to plow for them. Upon our refusal they take fire brands and hold them under the roofs of our houses, to set fire to them. The common savages do not pay any attention to their chiefs, as the latter seem to have lost their authority. We are ol)liged to remain in our houses, as the savages would inunediately attack us when we stir about, and set everything on fire; therefore we request yom- favor for a succor of forty or fifty men." In response to the above letters, at a meeting at wiiich were present Hon- orable Director- General Peter Stuyvesant and three councillors, the following action was taken: They took up and seriously considered the letters from Esopus. By the first they were informed that the savages had killed Harmen Jacobsen and set fire to two houses, and behaved and acted very insolently and wantonly; by the second the savages were continuing in their intolerable insolence and boldness, forcing the people there to plow for them, etc. It was therefore re- solved that the Director-General should go there foi-thwith, and fifty or sixty soldiers as a body-guard, to make arrangements. This ])irector- General was no less a personage than Peter the Headstrong, of whom Washington Irving gives the following facetious description: "Peter Stuyvesant was the last, and, like the renowned Wouter Van T wilier, the best of our ancient Dutch governors, Wouter having sur]iassed aU who preceded him, and Peter never having been equalled by any successor. He was of a sturdy, raw boned make, with a pair of round shoulders that Her- cules would have given his hide for, when he undertook to ease old Atlas of his load. He ^vas, moreover, not only terrible for the force of his arm, but like- wise of his voice, which sounded as if it came from a barrel; and he possessed an iron aspect that was enough of itself to make the very bowels of his adver- saries quake with teiTor and dismay. All this martial excellence of appearance was inexpressibly heightened by an accidental advantage, that of a wooden leg; of which he was so proud that he was often heard to declare he valued it more than all his other limbs put together. Like Achilles, he was somewhat sub- ject to extempore bursts of passion, which were lather unpleasant to his favor- ites and attendants, whose perceptions he was wont to quicken, after the man- ner of his illustrious imitator, Peter the Great, by anointing their shoulders with 1 8 Legends of the Shawangufik. his walking staff." The following is embodied in the journal of Governor Stuyvesant's visit to Esopus: " We left in the private yachts on the 28th day of May, arriving at the kill of the Esopus on the 29th. To avoid commotion among the savages, or causing them to flee at the sight of so many soldiers before they could be spoken with, I ordered the accompanying yachts to follow separately at a distance, and not to anchor near me before nightfall, nor to show too many soldiers on deck at once. I sent a barge ashore opposite to two little houses of the savages, to in- vite two or three of the Indians aboard. The barge presently came back with two savages, and also Thomas Chambers and another man, who w^ere induced to come down to look for help from the good south wind and expected relief. I persuaded the savages by a little present to go inland and induce the Indian sachems to meet me at the home of Jacob Jansen Stohl the following day, his being the last dwelhng in contiguity, or the day after that, assuring them that no harm should come to them or theirs. They agreed to do it, and were put on shore after I had some further talk with the two Christians, Chambers and Van Der Sluj^s. The other yachts arriving during the evening passed by us who were aground close to the shore. I ordered the soldiers landed with the least possible noise, without beating the drum; which being done, they were to send for me and my people on my yacht. We marched the same evening to the ' bouwery ' of Thomas Chambers, that being the nearest, for the night. On the morning of the 30th, that being Ascension Day, we marched to the house of Jacob Jansen Stohl, nearest to the habitations and plantations of the savages, where we had made the appointment to meet them, and where, on Sun- days and at the usual feasts, the Scriptures were read. " When the people had assembled in the afternoon I stated to them that I had come with sixty soldiers, asking of them their opinion of what it were best to do; that I did not think the present time was favorable to involve the whole country in a general war on account of the murder, the burning of tw^o small houses and other complaints about threats of the Indians; that now in summer, with the prospect of a good harvest, it was not the proper time to make bad worse, least of all by giving room too hastily to a blind fear; that it was not in our power to protect them and the other outlying farmers as long as they lived separately from each other, and insisted upon it contrary to the order of the Company. "They answered they should be ruined and indigent men if they w^ere again obliged to leave their property, which result would follow if they could get no protection against the savages. I told them they could get no protection as long as they lived separately; that it was necessary that they should remove together at a suitable place, w^here I could and would assist them with a few soldiers until further ai'rangements were made; or they might retreat with their wives, children, cattle, and most easily removed property to the Manhattans, or Eort Orange for safety; but if they could make up their minds to neither, they must not in future disturb us with complaints. The First Esopus War, lo " Each was of opinion that it was dangerous to remain in their present con- dition; tliere was a good harvest in prospect, with whicli they ]ioi)ed to sustain their faniihes the coming winter; to abandon those fertile fields at tliis jiuicture would occasion great loss, and entail upon them and their famihes abject pov- erty. The necessity of a concentrated settlement was at length conceded, but it was thought impracticable to effect the removal of the houses and barns before harvest time, in addition to the labor of inclosing the place with paU- sades. They plead very earnestly that the soldiers might remain with them un- til after the harvest; this I peremptorily refused, and insisted that they should make up their minds without delay. To encourage them I promised to remain with the soldiers until the place was enclosed with palisades, provided they went to work immediately, before taking up anything else. Another difficulty l)i:esented itself— each one thought his place the most conveniently located for the proposed enclosure. But on the last day of May the inhabitants brought answer that they had agreed unanimously to make a concentrated settlement, and each had acquiesced in the place selected, and in the final arrangements. The grounds were staked out that same afternoon. " In response to my request of the Indian chiefs for a conference, twelve oi- fifteen savages made their appearance at the house of Jacob Jansen Stohl, but only two chiefs were among them. They explained that the other sachems would not come before the next day; that they were frightened at so many sol- diers, and hardly dared to appear; also that they had been informed that more soldiers were to follow. "After assurances on my part that no harm should befall them, they be- came more cheerful; and the same evening about fifty savages made their a])pearance at the house of Stohl. After they had all gathered under a tree outside of the enclosure, about a stone's throw from the hedge, I went to them, and so soon as we had sat down, they, as is their custom, began a long speech, telling how in Kieft's time our nation had killed so many of their people, which they had put away and forgotten. " I answered that this all happened before my time, and did not concern me; that they and the other savages had drawn it all upon themselves by kill- ing several Christians which I would not repeat, because when peace was made the matter had all been forgotten and jiut away among us [their customary ex- pression on such occasions]. " I asked them if since peace was made any harm had been done to them or theirs; they kept a profound silence. I stated to them and u])braided them for the murders, injuries, and insults during my administration, to discover the truth and authors of which I had come to Esopus at this time, yet witli no de- sire to begin a general war, or punish any one imiocent of it, if the nnirderer was surrendered and the damages for the burned houses paid. I added that they had invited us to settle on their lands in the Esopus, that we did not owti the land, nor did we desire to initil we had paid for it. I asked why they had com- mitted the murders, burned the houses, killed the hogs, and did other injuries. 20 Legends of the Shawangunk. " Finally one of the sachems stood up and said that the Dutch sold the ' boison ' [brandy] to the savages, and were the cause of the Indians becoming ' cacheus ' [crazy] mad or drunk, and that then they had committed the out- rages; that at such times they, the chiefs, could not keep in bounds the young men who were then spoiling for a fight; that the murder had not been com- mitted by any one of their tribe, but by a Neversink savage; that the Indian who had set fire to the houses had run away and would not be here. That they were not enemies; they did not desire or intend to fight, but had no control over the young men. " I told them if the young men had a desire to fight to come forward now; I would match them, man for man, or twenty against thirty or even forty; that now was the proper time for it; that it was not well to plague, injure or threaten the farmers, or their women and children; that if they did not cease in future, we might try to i^ecover damages. We could kill them, capture their wives and children, and destroy their corn and beans. I would not do it because I told them I would not harm them; but I hoped they would immediately indem- nify the owner of the houses, and deliver up the nuirderer. "To close the conference I stated my decision: that to prevent further harm being done to my people, or the selling of more brandy to the Indians, my people should all remove to one place and live close by each other; that they might better seU me the whole country of the Swannekers [Dutch] so that the hogs of the latter could not run into the corn-fields of the savages and be killed by them. The chiefs then asked through Stohl and Chambers that I would not begin a war with them on account of the late occurrence, as it had been done while they were drunk; they promised not to do so again. " On Monday, June 3d, the soldiers witli all the inhabitants began work on the palisades. The spot marked out for a settlement has a circumference of about 210 rods,* weU adapted by nature for defensive purposes; and when ne- cessity requires it can be surrounded by water on three of its sides. To carry on the work with greater speed and order I directed a party of soldiers and expe- rienced wood-cutters to go into the woods and help load the palisades into wagons; the others I divided again into parties of twenty men each, to sharpen the palisades and put them up. The inhabitants who were able were set to digging the moat, who continued to do so as long as the wind and the rain per- mitted. " Towards evening of the 4th of June a party of forty or fifty savages came to where we were at work, so that I ordered six men from each squad to look after their arras. After w^ork had been stopped they asked to speak to me. They informed me they had concluded to give me the land I had asked to buy to ' grease my feet,' as I had come so long a way to see them. They promised in future to do no harm to the Dutch, but would go hand in hand and arm in arm with them. * Dutch rod 13 feet. The Fij'st E sop us liar. 21 " Being in need of gunpowder, of which ^ve had only what was in the ' ban- doleers, ' and lacking some plank for a guard-house, and some carpenters to aid in our work, I concluded to go in tlie Comi)any's yacht to Fort Orange for the same. I arrived back at Esopus on the afternoon of the 12th, and found every body at work, and two sides of the pahsades finished. About noon of the 20th the stockade was completed, it being necessary only to stop apertures where roots of trees had been in the ground: this was completed in good time the same day. " Having accomplished the work so far I set out on my return, leaving 24 soldiers to assist in guarding the place. As they had themselves 30 fighting men, besides seven or eight carpenters, they were in my opinion capable of taking care of themselves." But the peace begun under such favorable auspices was of short duration, as v/e learn by a letter from Sergeant Lawrens, the officer in charge of the mili- tary at Esopus, to Governor Stuyvesant. He wrote: — " Send me quickly orders. The Indians are becoming savage and insolent, and have killed a fine mare belonging to Jacob Jansen. They are angry that you challenged twenty of their men to figlit. Those returned from the beaver- hunt say if they had been here they would have accepted the challenge. Thev talk about it every day ; and to-day about five hundred savages are assembled, and their numbers constantly increasing. Provide us as quickly as possible with annnunition." Ensign Dirck Smith was dispatched to the relief of the garrison with twenty-five additional troops, making the fighting strength a total of fifty men, exclusive of the citizens. Smith was directed to make secure the enclosed place, mount a sufficient guard, and not allow any savage to pass through except upon permission of Jacob Jansen Stohl or Thomas Chambers. They were not to act " hostilely " against the Indians, but to stand strictly on the defensive. The agricultural labors were to be kept up under a guard of from twenty to twenty-five men; the laborers themselves were directed to take their arms with them, " that in case of attack they may make abetter stand against the savages;" and were also instructed to keep as close together as possible. In October of 1658 the Esopus sachems made a conveyance of the land as they had promised. They said they hoped the soldiers would now lay down their arms, that the settlers need now fear notliing. Tliey promised they would hunt many beavers and pass right by Fort Orange with their peltries; they liked to see the plows work, but no soldiers. " Tl^e following graphic account of a coUision between the savages and the settlers we find in tlu^ records: " To the Honorable, Wise and very Valiant, His Honor Director General Peter Stuyvesant at Neic Amsterdam : — "As on the 20th, at night between 10 and 11 o'clock, some savages raised a gi-eat noise and yelling under the fort, whereupon Dirck de Goyer and two others alarmed me on the guard, I commanded the sergeant to take nine or ten 2 2 Legends of the SJiazva7igii7ik. men, and directed him to go out by one of the gates and return by the other one, and not to molest anybody. The sergeant sent back word that a crowd of savages was there. Jacob Jansen Stohl came to the guard, saying ' I will go, give me four or five men. ' After they had returned I asked them who ordered them to fire, and they said the savages had shot first. Jacob Jansen Stohl re- plied violently that the dogs [Indians] had vexed us long enough ; that they lie in the bushes all around; and that they have fired innumerable brand arrows into grain stacks and barns. They attempted to set fire to the barn of Hap, but the barn being covered with plank, the corn was saved; and they have killed several cattle belonging to us. One prisoner escaped from them; he gives the number of savages as four hundred. He thought the white prisoners in their hands were all alive, but badly off. He said further, if we had not some cannon here, not one of us, large or small, would have escaped." The records say when the Dutch came to the place they fired a volley among the Indians as they lay around a fire. One savage was knocked in the head with an axe, and was left for dead, but he presently made off. Another, while lying on the ground stupidly drunk, was hewn on the head with a cutlass, which roused him so that he fled; after which the Dutch retreated to the fort with great speed. We find the following version of the affair given by the Catskill Indians: — Eight Esopus Indians broke off corn ears for Thomas Chambers. When they finished work the savages said, " Come, give us brandy." Chambers re- plied, " When it is dark. " When evening was come he gave a large bottle with brandy to the Indians. They retired to a place at no great distance from the fort and sat down to drink. The eight savages drank there until midnight; by that time they wei-e drunk, and they began to yell. At length the brandy came to an end. One Indian said, " Buy more brandy; we still have wampum. " The savage who was afterwards killed went to Chambers* house to get more brandy. Chambers said, " I have given you all I had." The savage then went to where the soldiers were, taking with him the bottle which he hid und^r his cloak. " Have you any brandy ? " said the Indian. " Yes, I have brandy," answered a soldier, " Here is wampum, give me brandy for it." " What is wampum, and what can I do with it \ where is your kettle V said the soldier. " I have no kettle, but I have a bottle here under my cloak," re])lied the savage. The sol- dier filled the bottle, but would take nothing for the brandy. The savage came to his comrades who were lying about and crying, and asked them, " Why do you cry ? I have brouglit brandy !" Whereupon they changed their cry, and asked if he had given all the wampum. " No, a soldier gave it to me." They replied " that is very good," and began to drink lustily from the bottle, because they had no goblet or ladle. When the bottle was pass ed around the savages began to wrangle and fight. Two of them presently said to each other, " We have no cause to fight, let us go away;" so they went away, leaving six. After a little time one of the remaining savages said, " Come, The First ] 'I sop lis War -o let us go away; I feel that we shall be killed." Said the other, " You are crazy; who should kill us ? We would not kill the Dutch, and have nothing to foar from them or the other Indians." " Yes," repUed he, " hut I nevertheless am. so heavy-hearted." The bottle was passed twice, and the savage said again, " Come, let us go; my heart is full of fears." He went off and hid his goods in the bushes at a little distance. Coming back drunk once more they heard the bushes crackle; as the Dutch came there, without knowing who it was. Then this savage went away, saying " Come, let us go, for we all shall be killed ;" and the rest laid down together, whereupon the Dutch came and all of them fired into the Indians, shooting one in the head and capturing another. One drunken savage was con- tinually moving about, whereupon the Dutch fired upon him repeatedly, nearly taking his dress fi-om his body. Ensign Smith knew what the consequences of this outbreak would be, and he sought to ascertain who ordered the firing contrary to his express instruc- tions. The Dutch cast aU the blame on the Indians, saying that the latter fired first. The affau-s of the colony being in such an unsatisfactory state, and find- ing the people would not respect his authority. Smith announced his intention of leaving for Xew Amsterdam next day. Great excitement was manifested when this became known. The people tried to dissuade him from his purpose by representing their exposed condition, and making assurances of futui-e obe- dience on their part. Smith was intractable, and continued making jirepara- tions for his departure; but by an adroit measure of Stohl and Chambers, who hired aU the boats in the neighborhood, he found himself unable to carry out his resolution. It was deemed expedient, however, to acquaint the Governor of the state of affairs, and accordingly Christopher Davis was dispatched down the river in a canoe for that pui'pose. Davis was escorted to the river by a company of eight soldieir, and ten citizens, under Sergeant Lawrentsen, Sept. 21st, 1059. On the return of the escort to the village they fell into an ambuscade near where now stands the City HaU; the Sergeant and thirteen men surrendered without firing a shot, the rest making their escape. War now began in earnest. More than five hundred sav- ages were in the vicinity of the fort, who kept up a constant skirmish with the settlers. By means of firebrands they set fire to the house of Jacob Gebers; numbers of barracks, stacks and barns were in like manner destroyed. One day they made a desperate assault on the pahsades wliich came near being success- ful. Failing in this, the savages slaughtered all the horses, cattle and hogs they could find outside the defenses. Three weeks was a constant siege kept up so that " none dare go abroad. " Unable to take the town they vented their fury on the unfortunate prisoners. Jacob Jansen Van Stoutenburgh, Abram Vosbm-g, a son of Cornelius B. Sleight, and five or six other were compelled to run the gauntlet; they were next tied to stakes, and, after being beaten and cut in the most cruel manner, were burned a-li\^. Thomas Clapboard [Chambers], William the carpenter. 24 Legends of the ShawaugiLii/c. Peter Hillebrants and Evert Pel's son were among the captives. These are the only names mentioned in the early records. Clapboard w^as taken by six war- riors down the Esopus kill. At night he removed the cords by which he was bonnd, and successively knocked five of his captors in the head while they were asleep, killing the sixth before he could fly, and making good his escape. An- other prisoner, a soldier, got home safely after a somewhat rough experience Peter Laurentsen and Peter Hillebrants were ransomed; Pel's son, then a mere youth, was adopted into the tribe and married among them. Overtures were afterwards made to the Indians by the friends of the lad for his return; but the savages answered that he "wished to stay with his squaw and i)appoose, and he ought to. ' ' News of these events filled the v^rhole colony with fear and forebodings. Stuyvesant had only six or seven soldiers in garrison at Amsterdam, and they were sick and unqualified for duty. He then sent to Fort Orange and Rensselaer- wyck for reinforcements; but the inhabitants of Fort Orange could not succor without leaving their own homes defenseless. The Governor asked for volun- teers, offering Indians as prizes; only six or seven responded. He then con- scripted all the garrison at Amsterdam, the Company's servants, the hands in his brewery and the clerks. The people made great opposition to this, averring that " they were not liable to go abroad and fight savages." Notwithstanding these hindrances Governor Stuyvesant set sail October 9th with about 100 men, and reached Esopus next day. Here he found the siege had been raised thirty-six hours before, and that the savages had retreated to their homes whither the Governor's troops could not foUow them, for the coun- try was then inundated with nearly a foot of water from the frequent rains. In the spring of 1660, there was a renewal of hostilities; an Indian castle having been plundered, and several savages taken captive, the Indians sued for peace and proposed an exchange of prisoners. Stuyvesant declined their over- tures, and prosecuted the war with vigor, sending some of the captive chiefs, then in his hands, to Curagoa, as slaves to the Dutch, The clans now held a council. Said Sewackenamo, the Esopus chief, "What will you do?" "We will fight no more," said the warriors. "We wish to plant in peace," replied the squaws. " We will kill no more hogs," answered the young men. Stuyvesant met their propositions with an extravagant demand for land. The fertile corn-planting grounds of the Walkill and Rondout valleys had excited the cupidity of the colonists. The savages were loth to give up so much of their territory, but they finally acceded to the Governor's demand. During the negotiations the Indians plead for the restoration of their enslaved chiefs. But in pursuance of Stuyvesant's policy, those ancient sachems had become the chattels of Dutchmen, and were toiHng, under the lash, in the maize and bean- fields among the islands of the far-off Caribbean Sea; so the Governor replied that they must be considered dead. Although deeply grieved at this, the chiefs agreed to the treaty, and departed. Tkc Second Esopus \Va7'. 25 THE SECOND ESOPUS WAR. SOME acts of criiiiination and recrimination liaving occurred between the Dutch settlers of Kingston and Hurley and their Indian neighbors, grow- ing out of a misunderstanding in regard to some lands, the feud finally terminated in what is spoken of in the Documentary History of New York as the "Massacre at the Esopus." To be more certain of success the Esopus clans endeavored to get the Wappinger Indians of Duchess, and other of the neighboring clans, to join them, and succeeded partially. To lull the suspicions of the whites, a proposition for a new treaty was made only two days before the attack , On the Tth of June, lOiiS, a band of two hundred Indians entered the two villages in the forenoon, from different points, and dispersed themselves among the dwellings in a friendly manner, having with them a little maize and a few beans; under pretense of selling these they went about from place to place to discover the strength of the men. After they had been in Kingston about a quarter of an hour, some people on horseback rushed through the mill-gate cry- ing out — "The Indians have destroyed the New Village!" And with these words the savages immediately fired their guns, and made a general attack on the village from the rear, hewing down the whites with their axes and toma- hawks. They seized what women and children they could and carried them prisoners outside the gates, plundered the houses, and set the village on fu-e to windward, it blowing at the time from the south. The remaining Indians com- manded all the streets, firing from the corner houses which they occupied, and through the curtains outside along the highways, so that some of the inhabi- tants while on their way to their houses to get their arms were wounded and sin in. When the flames had reached their height the wind veered to the west, otherwise the flames would have been much more destructive. So rapidly did the murderers do their woi-k that those in different parts of the village were not aware of what was transpiring until they ha])pened to meet the wounded in the streets. Few of the men were in the village, the rest being abroad at their field labors. Capt. Thomas Chambers, who was wounded on coming in from the fields, issued immediate orders to secure the gates, to clear the gun and drive (^ff the savages, which was accordingly done. After the few men in the vil- lage had been collected, and l)y degrees others arriving fi-om different quarters, being attracted by the columns of smoke and tlie firing, they nuistered in the evening sixty-nine efficient men. The burnt palisades were immediately re- placed with new ones, and the i)(M)ple distributed, during the night, along the bastions and curtains to kee)) watcli. In this attack on the two Aillages fifteen men, four women and two children "were killed. ^Tost of tlic women and children kill(Ml wej-e burned to death. Of 26 Legends of the Shawa^tgunk. the prisoners taken by the Indians at this outbreak there were thirteen women, thirty children, and one man. At Kingston twelve houses were burned, while the New Village was entirely destroyed. Soldiers were now sent up from New York, and the Indians were limited like wild beasts from mountain to mountain. The force employed, including the volunteers from Esopus, numbered nearly three hundred men. Scouting parties were sent out in every direction in which it was supposed hostile In- dians could be found, destroying their crops and burning their wigwams. On the 26th of July a party of upwards of two hundred men, including forty- one Long Island Indians and seven negroes, left Kingston to attack the savages at their fort about thirty miles distant, "mostly" in a southwest direction. They had as a guide a woman who had been a prisoner of the Indians, and took with them two pieces of cannon and two wagons. The cannon and wagons they were forced to abandon before reaching the fort. They intended to sur- prise the Indians, but found the fort untenanted except l)y a solitary squaw. The next day they sent a force to surprise the savages on the mountain, but were unable to surprise any. For two days and a half the whole party then employed themselves in destroying the growing crops and old maize of the In- dians, the latter of which was stored in pits. Over two hundred acres of corn, and more than one hundred pits of corn and beans, were rendered worthless by the invading forces. The natives witnessed these proceedings from their look- out stations on the Shawangunk and neighboring mountains, but made no re- sistance, Quiiilan supposes this fort to have been on the headwaters of the Kerhonkson. After this expedition the savages proceeded to build a new fort thirty-six miles south-southwest of Kingston, The site of this fort is on the right bank of the Shawangunk kill, near the village of Bruynswick. Against this fort Capt. Kregier marched the following September, with a force of fifty- five men and an Indian guide, Kregier says in his journal, in substance: It having rained all day the expedition must rest for the present. Asked the Sheriff and commissaries whether they could not get some horses to accom- pany us, so that we may be able to place the wounded on them if we should happen to have any. After great trouble obtained six horses, but received spiteful and insulting words from many of the inhabitants. One said, let those furnish horses who commenced the war. Another said, if they want anything they will have to take it by force. The third said he must first liave his horse valued and have security for it. About one o'clock on the afternoon of the 3d we started from Fort Wilt- wyck; marched about three miles to the creek and lay there that night, during which we had great rain. The next morning we found such high water and swift current in the kill that it was impossible to ford it. Sent men on horse- back to Fort Wiltwyck for axes and rope to cross the creek. Crossed over about two o'clock in the afternoon and marched four miles further on, where we bivouacked for the r iglit. Set out again at daybreak, and about noon came to their first maize-field, where we discovered two squaws and a Dutch woman The Second Esopiis IVar. 27 who had come from their new fort that morning to get corn. But as the creek lay between us and the corn-field, though we would fain have the women, we could not ford the stream without being discovered; we therefore turned in through the wood so as not to be seen. About two o'clock in the afternoon w^e arnved in sight of their fort, vvhicli we discovered situated on a lofty plain. Divided our force in two, and pro- ceeded in this disposition along the kill so as not to be seen and in order to come right under the fort. But as it was somewhat level on the left of the fort, the soldiers Avere seen by a squaw^ who was piling wood there, who thereupon set up a terrible scream. This alarmed the Indians who were working upon the fort, so we instantly fell upon them. The savages rushed through tlie fort towards their houses in order to secure their arms, and thus hastily picked up a few bows and arrows and some of their guns, but we w^ere so close at their heels they were forced to leave some of them behind. We kept up a sharp fire on them and pursued them so closely that they leaped into the creek which ran in front of the lower part of their maize land. On reaching the opposite side of the kill they courageously returned our fire, so that we were obhged to send a party across to dislodge them. In this attack the Indians lost their chief, fourteen other warriors, four w^omen and three children, whom we saw lying on this and on the other side of the creek; but probably many others were wounded. We also took thirteen of them prisoners, besides an old man wii8d through the kill, and brought the news to the fort. Two detachments were instantly dispatched to attack them, but they had taken to flight and re- treated into the woods. The Indians were finally cowed. Their principal warriors had been slain, their fort and wigwams burned, and their food and peltiies destroyed. A long hai'd winter was before them, and the ruthless white soldiers ready to swoop down u})on them at any moment. Under these circumstances the Delawares sued for peace, and the truce was observed for a period of about ninety years, or until the breaking out of the French and Indian war. When Capt. Kregier marched against the new fort his forces probably crossed the Shawangunk kill at Tuthilltown, and keeping along the high ground came in rear of the fort. A portion of the command marched doAvni the hill di- rectly on the fort, while the other detachment cut off their escape in the other direction. This fort stood on the brow of a hill overhanging the creek; in the side of this hill there is a living spring with the Indian path still leading to it. The old Wawarsing trail led from this fort, crossing the Shawangunk mountain near Sam's Point. 30 Legends of the Shawangitnk. THE ESOPUS MUTINY. AFTER the capitulation of New Amsterdam and its dependencies to the Duke of York, in 1064, some English troops were sent to garrison Esopus. They were under command of Capt. Broadhead, an arrogant, ill-tempered, overbearing officer, whom the Dutch soon came to hate with all the fervor of their natures. There was a constant collision between the English mil- itary authorities and the Dutch civil magistrates. The inhabitants drew up a formal complaint against the garrison, and among the charges were the follow- ing: - Cornelius Barentsen Sleight is beaten in his own house by soldier George Porter, and was after this by other soldiers forced to prison, and by some sol- diers at his imprisonment used very hard. Capt. Broadhead hath beaten Tierck Clausen and without any reason brought to prison. Capt. Broadhead, coming to the house of Lewis Du Bois, took an anker of brandy and threw it upon the ground because Du Bois refused him brandy with- out payment, and did likewise force the said Du Bois to give him brandy. [Broadhead afterwards said in extenuation of the act that the anker was not broken, and no brandy spilled.] And the said Du Bois' wife coming to Broadhead's house for money, he drove her out of the house with a knife. The soldier George Porter coming in the barn of Peter Hillebrants, and finding there Dierck Hendricks, took his sword and thrust it through Dierck's breeches. Two soldiers coming to Miller's to steal his hens, and Miller in defending his hens, was by the soldiers beaten in his own house. Besides all this we are threatened by Capt. Broadhead and his soldiers that they will burn down all this town and all they that are therein — " Therefore we do most humbly supplicate that you will be pleased to remonstrate and make known unto the Governor the sad condition we are in, from whom we hope to have redress. " In answer to the above "standings," Captain Broadhead replies that he will keep Cornelius Sleight in apprehension " as longe as he thincks good," and that in case the inhabitants will " fitch '' him by force, that he would wait upon them. The soldiers in their own behalf say they went to the burgher's [Sleight's] house by Broadhead's command, when they found the burgher with his piece cocked, and his hanger [sword] drawn and laid uj)on his arm; they disarmed him by force and brought him prisoner to the guard. But at their first ar- rival at the aforesaid house they " found Capt. Broadhead with his cravat torn I The EsopMS JMittiny. 3 1 and Thrown away, and his face scratclied and very much abused/' [It would appear that Sleight and the English Captain liad been indulging in a little scrimmage, in which the latter had got the worst of it].' Eight or nine Dutchmen went armed to the place where their comrade was confined, headed by Hendrick Yockams. Capt. Broad head with seven men marched to them and demanded the occasion of their being in arms. Tlieir lieutenant made answer that they would have the burgher out of the guard. Broadhead commanded them to return with their arms to their houses; their lieutenant re])lied they would not, but would have the prisoner out of the guard. One of their party, by name Anthony, a Frenchman, presented his piece against our Captain, being loaded with nine small bullets, and swore if he moved a foot he v^^ould fire upon him, and would not be persuaded nor com- manded, but did persist in his rebellious actions. They sent "for Capt, Thomas Chambers, who lived outside the stockade, thinking he would have headed them, but he would not; but connnanded them to return with their arms to their houses. They continued under arms until about nine in the evening, threatening that they would fetch the burgher out by force that night, and villifying us with our small party of men, saying, "What is fifteen or sixteen men to seventy or eighty?" as continually they have done from the beginning. Another of the rebellious party by name of Albert Hymons, the chief in- stigator of the first rising, gave out speeches in the hearing of the soldiers that " if he had been in command he would not have left one English soldier aUve in the Esopus," Tyerk Clausen says the reason why Capt. Broadhead abused him Avas be- cause he would keep Christmas on the day customary with the Dutch, and not on the day according to the EngUsh observation. Capt. Broadhead acknowl- edged it. De Monts swore that last New Year's Day he had some friends at his liouse, and Captain Broadhead quarreled with the wife of Harmen Hendricksen, and threw a glass of beer in her face. The burghers brought into court a paper to excuse their being in arms, — " because Captain Broadhead and the soldiers threatened to burn the town, and all that was in it, and also because Captain Broadhead had committed a burghei- to prison, and had misused and cut him, so that his wife and childi-en ran about the town crying that the Enghsh had killed their father.'' Jacob Johnson and Claus Clasen sAvorn and said the reason why Antonio Dalve presented his gmi at Capt. Broadhead was because he made to him with his naked cutlass, and threatened therewith to cut him in pieces. When Capt. Thomas Chambers commanded the Dutch to return to their homes, and they refused, he went to the English guard and told them they were a lot of stubborn rogues, and would not be commanded by him. Where- upon he said he would have nothing to do with said mutinous rogues, and re- tiuiied to his own house. 32 Legends of the SJiazuaiigiink, The wife of Cornelius Sleight, and her daughter, complaining to the Court that Capt. Broadhead had grievously cut, beat and wounded her husband, upon which the Court dispatched a messenger to request Captain Broadhead to come to the Court and received the following answer, " That if the Commissary would speak with him they might come to him, ' ' the burghers then being in arms. The Court thereupon ordered Captain Chambers and Evert Pelce to desire Captain Broadhead to release the said burgher, and that if Sleight had offended him, he should, according to the Governor's order, complain to the magis- trates, who would see that he was punished according to his deserts. To which Broadhead made answer, " that he would keep the said Cornelius as long as he pleased, and if they would fetch him he would be ready to wait upon them.'' Antonio Dalve was heard by George Hall to say, when Captain Broadhead was getting some of the young burghers to go against the Dutch at Albany, " Shall we go and fight with our friends, and leave our enemies at home ?" For this seditious utterance Antonio was called to account. He said in his defence that he meant to be understood as saying ' ' Shall we go and fight our friends [the Dutch at Albany] who sold the savages powder and ball in the last Esopus war, and leave our enemies at home ? meaning the Esopus Indians." The Court made an effort to prevail on the burghers to disperse to their homes and lay down their arms. The latter replied that the English had twice threatened to burn the town, and requested that they be empowered by their magistrates to continue under arms; but the magistrates denied the same. The English Governor NicoUs sent up two of his privy counsellors to try the case, who, upon hearing the evidence, took four of the offending Dutch burgomasters to New York, there to receive from the Governor their final sen- tence. THE WAR WITH THE JERSEYMEN. FOR some years prior to 1700, and as late as half a century afterwards, the Minisink country was embroiled in a tedious conflict with their New Jersey neighbors, over the question of a boundary line between the colonies of New Jersey and New York. The misunderstanding grew out of the difficulty of determining what was the " north wardmost " branch of the Delawaie river. Both parties started from the same point on the Hudson river, in latitude 40 degrees. New York on the one hand contended for a line that would strike Big Minisink island, while New Jersey insisted the line should strike the Delaware river just below Cochecton, making a triangular gore several miles in width at its western ex- tremity. The matter was brought to the attention of the General Assembly of each colony, and considerable spirit was shown in its consideration. A committee VIEWS OF LAKE MOIIONK. ULSTER CO., X V. The War With the Jersey men. 33 appointed by the New Yoi-k Assembly reported to the House, O('tol)er l'1>, 1754, that they could not certainly discover what was the " Northwardniost branch of the Delaware Eiver; " that they find Minisink, and lands to the north- ward thereof, have been held by New York patents for nearly seventy years, which are bounded south by New Jersey; that the patents of New Jersey, for many years after the "fixation" of said boundary, did not extend northward above said bounds, nor did they extend jurisdiction al)ove these bounds That of late years large bodies of Jerseyites have with violence taken pos- session of lands above these bounds; and that New^ Jersey has erected the county of Sussex in part above these bounds. That New^ Jersey Justices have assumed authority over subjects liolding lands under and paying a submission to New York. Also, that New York Justices, officers, and even ministers of the Gospel in Orange county, have been seized and beaten, insulted, carried into New Jersey and helci to excessive bail or confined in prisons, and prosecuted by indictments. That people of New Jersey have from time to time taken possession of va- cant lands in Orange county, etc. New Jersey assumed and exercised the right to assess and collect taxes from people residing in the county of Orange, so that some chose to desert their pos- sessions and move further north. Thus while the respective Colonial Assemblies were adopting active pai-tisan measures in the controversy, it may be supposed that the people most directly interested, acting in the spirit of that semi-lawless age, did not always wait for the slow process of legislative enactment to settle their disputes, but took the details into their own hands for adjudication in their own w^ay. By way of more effectually opposing the incursions of the Jerseymen, the people of Orange converted their dwellings into places of defense, armed them- selves for sudden attack, and formed organizations for mutual aid and succor. Col. De Key, who was also a Justice of the Peace in and for Orange county, had settled upon lands within that county under patents granted by New^ York, v/here he had lived in peaceable possession for fifty years. Having been dis- turbed in his land>^, and threatened witli [)ersonal violence and ejectment, he proceeded to the residence of James Alexander, Esq., an East New Jersey \>\-(^- prietor, to lay the case before him, and if possible bring about some agreement between the contending parties until the line could be definitely settled. Col. De Key was told that if he would become a Jerseyman, and fight against the New York people, he should want neither commission nor money; that if Ik^ would do neither he w^ould be dispossessed of his plantations. Col. De Key refused to accept of the conditions, went home, and prepared for war. Subsequently, a number of armed men from East New Jersey came to the residence of De Key, who, seeing tluMU ap])roach, shut himself up in the house. They drew up in battle array, cocked their guns, and presenting them towards the window where De Key stood, assured him they would shoot him through the heart; that they would starve him out, and burn the house over his head; 34 Legends of the ShcrLoangunk. that if a man, woman, or child, attempted to escape, he would he shot down; that they had the strength to take all Goshen, and would do it in time. They theieupon withdrew without further violence, one of them saying — " Take care of yourself, for we will have you yet !" Some of the patentees becoming disheartened, sold out to others at great sacrifice and removed, which served to weaken the party in possessioi Among the pioneers of Orange county was one Hai-manus A^an Inwegen, a bold, strong and i-esolute man, who had married into the Swartwout family, who were among the patentees of the disputed territory. Van Inwegen was by nature and habit well fitted for the times in which he hved, and was admir- ably qualified for a leader in enterprises that required daring and resolution. The better to identify his interests with the cause of the New York patentees, he was given some of the lands under controversy; the result was he soon as- sumed the character of a fearless and able partisan. One day while Van Inwegen was absent from home, some Indians came and commenced abusing his family. He was immediately sent for. When the Indians saw him coming they cocked their guns, and aimed them at his breast. He rushed in among them, tumbled one redskin in one direction, and sent an- other flying heels over head in another direction; in short, he handled his un- welcome guests so roughly that they fled from the house. At another time, while Van Inwegen was raking grain in his field, a New Jersey constable and three or four assistants came to arrest him, and to take possession of his grain. Not submitting quietly to the process of arrest and the confiscation of his property, the constable wounded him with his sword. Van Inwegen thereupon broke the rake in pieces over the officer's head with such effect that all attempts at arrest were abandoned. One Major Swartwout resided on the disputed lands. The New Jersey claimants were for a long time watching for an opportunity to enter his house and get possession before he could get help from his neighbors. The Major kept several loaded guns in the house, and employed an additional number of men about the premises, all of whom were proficient in the use of fire-arms. The Major's house thus became a fortified post, with an armament not to be despised. Major Swartwout was a large, portly man, possessed of a fine military bearing; and, when arrayed in the rich and gaudy equipments of war, appeared to a good advantage on parade. Many a time has the drill-ground at Goshen resounded to his word of command. Notwithstanding all tho precautionary measures of the Major, some Jersey - men effected an entrance into his abode during his temporary absence in 1730, drove out his family, removed his goods, and assumed possession of the prem- ises. His wife ^vas confined to her bed at the time by the birth of a child, and the removal was the occasion of her death. Measures were at once determined on to reinstate the Major in his domicile. Some reinforcements having arrived f roin Goshen, his party ambushed on a hill The War M'itk the Jcrseynic7i. 35 ill a piece of woods near the Major's home. It was arranged that Peter Gui- niaer should go to the house, and at a convenient opportunity enter and ascertain the situation of affairs. If he judged the circumstances favorable for an at- tempt at recapture, Peter was to go into the orchaid and throw up an apple as a signal. The party on the hill soon had the satisfaction of seeing Peter make the signal agreed upon. They rushed out of the woods and into the house with such impetuosity as to overpower all opposition. The usurpers were expelled, and the Major reinstated in his possessions. The people of Orange county employed a spy to act in their interest, who was to circulate among the Jersey claimants, acquaint himself with their plans, and send back reports of their proceedings. The spy soon sent them word that on a certain day the Jerseymen intended to raid the disputed territory with a strong party, with the view of dispossessing the occupants generally. The day came at last; and with it came the sturdy yeomanry of Orange county — fathers, brothers, sons, aU — to the home of Hermanus Van Inwegen, armed, equipped, and caparisoned for war. The preparations were barely com- pleted when the van of the Jersey company came in sight. Major Swartwout gallantly led his little army out into the road, and formed the men in line of battle. Jacob Cuddeback said to Van Inwegen, *' We are old men; our hves are of less consequence than those of our younger companions; let us take our places in the front of the line." This act of self-sacrifice was immediately carried into execution; even the younger men evincing no dissatisfaction at the wise ar- rangement. The line was formed in double column, with the two old men in front as a cover to those in rear, and the Major himself at the head of his men: with this disposition of the force, they calmly awaited the onset with breath- less interest. The Jerseymen came within gunshot and halted. Such a military array as that ^vlth which they were now confronted— at once so unexpected and so formidable— served to weaken the ardor even of Jerseymen bent on conquest. Another incident, coming also unawares, contributed to strike dismay stiU moro deeply into the stern hearts of the invaders. Gerardus Swart wout, a young son of the Major, who was in the line be- hind the old men, called out to his father in a voice loud enough to be heard by the invading party:— " Is this all in fun, Father, or in sober earnest; are we to shoot to kill, Or only aim to hit them in their legs ?" "Shoot to kill," shouted the Major in tones of thunder— " pepper eveiy rascal of them ! Down with the ruthless invaders of our soil !" This was more than the Jerseymen could stand. Their colunm began to waver, when Van Inwegen called out to the Major to give the order to open the battle. "Ready! take aim ! fire!" roared the Major. The two old men in front raised their weapons at the word of conmiand, but before they could pull trig- 36 Legends of tJic Shawangiiiik. ger the Jerseymen were in full retreat for the woods. Some stray shots were sent after them by some of the young men in the rear of the line of battle, with no effect. With this the military operations of the day concluded. Some time after this the Jerseymen made another effort to capture the Major and Captain Johannes Westbrook. They chose the Sabbath as the time when, and the door of the church as the place where, they would be the most certain of taking their prey. Somewhere between the years 1764 and 1767 one Sabbath morning, a strong party surrounded the church armed with clubs. The Major and Captain Westbrook were among the congregation of worship- pers. After the services were concluded and the people were coming out of the church, both men were captured and made prisoners, but not until after a long, rough-and-tumble struggle. The Major, being reckoned the more danger- ous of the two, was taken and confined for a while in a Jersey prison. THE MASTODON. THE Shawangunk region, even were it wanting in any other recommenda- tion to historic mention, is remarkable as having been the home of the Mastodon. Almost under the shadow of the rock-ribbed ascents, deep in the peat and marl of the adjacent valleys, several skeletons of these huge mon- sters have been exhumed, some of them the largest and most complete speci- mens that have come to the sight of man. In a tamarack swamp near Mont- gomery, in 1845, a gigantic and perfect skeleton was found in a peat bog with marl beneath, where it stood in an erect position, as if the animal lost its life in search of food by getting mired. In the place where its stomach and intes- tines lay was fomid a large mass of fragments of twigs and grass, hardly fossi- Hzed at all — the remains, doubtless, of the undigested dinner of the monster. This skeleton was eleven feet high and upwards of twenty feet long, and weighed 2000 pounds. It is now in a museum in Boston. Another skeleton, scarcely less remarkable for its size and completeness, was dug up in the year 1872 in the town of Mount Hope. This weighed 1700 pounds, and is now on exhibition in New Haven, Conn. No less than nine skeletons, more or less en- tire, have been exhumed within the limits of Orange county. The era and haunts of this monster mammalia furnish abundant material for consideration, and is of interest both as attracting the superficial notice of the tourist and eliciting the more profound speculations of the geologist. Whether we contemplate the antiquity of his remains entombed for unknown ages in the peat and marl of a swami)^preserved by the antiseptic property of the medium that caused his death; or whether we think of his lordly mastery over the otlier beasts of his time, of the majesty of his tread over valley and mountain, of his The Mastodon. 37 anger when excited to fury, uttering his wrath in thunder tones -there is that in the subject which clothes the locaUty in a new and interesting hght." In the north part of a swamp near Crawford's, Orange county, some years since, a mastodon skeleton was found. A writer says of it: "This skeleton I examined very minutely, and found that the carcass had been dei^osited whole, but that the jaw-bones, two of the ribs, and a tliigh-bone had been broken by some violent force while the flesh yet remained on the bones. Two other parts of skeletons Avere found, one at Ward's bridge, the other at Masten's meadow, in Shawangunk. In both instances the carcasses had been torn asunder, and the bones had been deposited with the flesh on, and some of the l)ones were fractured. That the bones were deposited with the flesh appears from the fact that they were found attached to each other, and evidently belonged to only one part of the carcass, and no other bones could be found near the spot. Great violence would be necessary to l)reak the bones of such large animals; in the ordinary course of things no force adequate to that effect would be exerted. I think it fair reasoning, that, at the deluge, they were brought by the westerly currents to the place where they were found; that the carcasses were brought in the first violent surges, and bruised and torn asunder by the tremendous cataracts, created when the cm-rents crossed the high mountains and ridges, and fell into the deep valleys between the Shawangunk mountain and the level countries adjacent." At what age in the world's history the mastodon Uved, how and when he died, there is no Avell-developed theory. Is the death and utter annihilation of the race attributable to an over- whelming flood which submerged the earth and swept down those animals as they peacefully and unsuspiciously wandered ? Was it some unusual storm, black with fury, terrible as a tornado, and death-deahng as a sirocco, which swept the wide borders of the Shawangunk, and in one wrathful, destroying stream swept the Living mastodon into utter oblivion ? Was it the common fate of nations, the destiny of every created race of animals, that by the physical law of their natures, the race started into being, grew up to physical perfection, fulfilled the pui-pose of their creation, and be- came extinct ? Was it some malignant distemper, fatal as the murrain of Egypt and wide- spread as the earth itself, which attacked the herd and laid the giants low ? Or was it rather individual accident, numerous as the race, befaUing each one, and which,* amidst the throes and toils of extrication, caused them to sink deeper and deeper still in the soft and miry beds where we find their bones re- l)osing ? When did these animals live and when did they perish, are questions no more easy of solution. Were they pre-Adamites, and did they graze upon the * Eajrer. 38 Legends of the Shawangunk. meadows and slopes of Shawangunk in the sunHght of that early period, ere man had been created? Or were they ante-diluvian, and carried to a common grave by the deluge of the Scriptures ? Or were they post-diluvian only, and, until a very recent period, wandered over these hills and browsed in these val- leys? A formidable objection to these animals having hved within a few hundred years is the difficulty of so enormous a creature obtaining sustenance for him- self through our winters. It would seem that the mastodon hved in a pala^on- tological period more remote, when the climate was warmer, since the allied huge animals do Hve in warmer latitudes. Perhaps it was the change of cli- mate that destroyed the mastodon. Geologists are of opinion that the mastodon flourished about the middle of the tertiary period. If so, these creatures were here ages before man was created. The period of their extinction is thought to be more doubtful, probably just before the establishing of the first human pair in the Garden of Elden. The mastodon belongs to the graminivorous class of quadrupeds. Had he belonged to the carnivorous race, subsisting on flesh, he would have been the most destructive butcher of which wo could possibly conceive " OtisviUe, Otisville!'' shouts the trainman from a set of stentorian lungs, opening the door of the Erie Railway passenger coach as the train slows up at a little station high up the slope of the Shawangunk, at the eastern portal of the "Pass of the Mountains.' We alighted on the platform, and the train proceeded on its way through the deep cleft in the mountain, and the rum- bling was lost in the distance as it crept along the dizzy heights of the western slope. " Will you please point the way to the swamp where the Mount Hope mastodon was found ? " we said to the first man we met, who happened to be the village post-master " Certainly; come with me. I am going that way and will show you the place." Following his directions, after a walk of about a mile over a rough country road, we came to the place indicated. The swamp has no distinguishing fea- tures, and covers a tract of some half-dozen acres. The highway winds to one side of it, while a side-hiU pastm^e borders the other. The mastodon's remains were found near the lower end, only a few feet from solid ground. The crea- ture had evidently ventured into the swamp in search of food, got mired in the peat and marl, and perished there — the skeleton being preserved from decay by the antiseptic properties of those substances that were instrumental in causing its death. There is an excavation some ten or more yards in diameter where the bones were exhumed, which is now fiUed with water. The circumstances under which the ]\Iount Hope fossil was found are these: Some years ago a family by the name of Mitchel, residing in New York city, purchased a farm in the vicinity of Otisville. The land was none of the The JMastodou. 39 best; but wiiih commeiidcable enterprise they iinniediately set aljout improving the property. Soon a large and commodious brick house was built; fences and outbuildings repaired; and the muck and marl from the swamp a few rods from the house were dra\vn oat and spread upon the upland. The place for the excavation was chosen solely on the ground of conven- ience in getting the product to the upland; by a fortunate coincidence that was the place where the creature went into the swamp and perished. One day while the men were at work they came upon a bone. Its gi-eat size astonished them and they could not divine what sort of animal it had belonged to. Soon after they came upon more bones, sunilar in form to the bones of animals with which they were familiar, only they were of mammoth size. At last they came to the bones of the pelvis, which were of such huge dimensions that the whole neighborhood flocked to behold the curiosity. The ^litchels kept at the work of digging, but they now had a doul)le \)\\v- pose in view. At first the parts of the skeleton were thrown carelessly into a heap, and left there unprotected. Xow, as fast as found, they were carefully guarded, and stored away under lock and key. As the Avork proceeded the water became troublesome. The owner of the farm, believing he had found a prize, arranged to have the water pumped out while the search continued. The result of their labors was the exhuming of one of the most perfect fossil remains of the extinct mastodon that has ever been found, and which weighed about seventeen hundred pounds: the skeleton when put together stood over ten feet in height, and nearly fifteen in lengi:h. Some minor parts were missing, either not having been exhumed by reason of the difficulty experienced in digging, or having been carried away as souvenirs by curious visitors before their value was known News of the finding of this valuable geological specimen spread through the country. Inquiries poured in by every mail, and some of the leading colleges took measures to secure it for their respective cabinets. Negotiations with the coUege authorities reached the point which made it certain that either Yale or Princeton would carry off the prize; and the question which of the two should get it would depend on whether a Yale or a Princeton representative arrived first on the ground. Prof. Waterhouse Hawkins, of Princeton college, took passage on a train that was scheduled to stop at Otisville, the nearest station on the Erie railroad. Prof. 0. C. Marsh, of Yale college, adoi)ted, as he said, his usual custom, and took the first and sAAiftest train that started in the direction he wanted to go, and did not trouble himself to inquire whether it stopped at Otisville or not. The latter found means to induce the conductor of the train to slow up at a point nearest the Mitchell farm; and when Prof. Hawkins arrived by the ac- connnodation train some hours later, the writings were all drawn in favor of Yale, and Prof. Marsh had made all sure by a payment on the same. And that is wliy the ]\Iount Hope mastodon to-day graces the Yale museum insteail of the college cabinet at Princeton. 40 Legends of the Skawangiuik. A resident of Otisville, who was personally acquainted with the conductor of the train on which the Yale professor took passage, said to him a few days afterwards: — '' You had a distinguished passenger on board of your train the other day, I hear." "Not that I know of," said the conductor. "Didn't you slow up your train to let a gentleman off ?"- mentioning the day. "Yes, I did." " That passenger was Prof. Marsh, of Yale college. Now tell me how you came to accommodate him so far as to let him get off between stations." "Well, I'll tell you how that came about," replied the railway official, knocking the ashes from his Havana, and assuming an air of gravity; " you see, that fellow had some deuced good cigars with him!" Dr. Theo. Writer, of Otisville, was present when the Professor was pack- ing the mastodon in boxes. The Doctor had in his possession the skull of a weasel; and knowing that Prof. Marsh was an authority on skeletons, took it down to show him. " Here, Professor," said the Doctor, " here is a skull not quite so large as the one you are packing in that box, but if you will accept it with my compliments, you are welcome to it." The Professor looked at it and instantly exclaimed, "That is a weasel's skull." And then he went on to give some facts in natural history relating to those mischievous little animals. He thanked Dr. Writer for the skull, — no gift could have pleased him better. Doubtless that weasel's skull occupies a niche in the Yale college museum to this day CATHERINE DU BOIS. A HEROINE OF ANCIENT WILDWYCK. IT was early in the month of June — that season of the year in which nature as- sumes her holiday garb, ere the sun has parched vegetation or the heat be- come unbearable— that the following incidents are said to have transpired. The wheat-fields of ancient Wildwyck were undulating gracefully before the sum- mer breeze; the rustling blades of corn gave promise of a rich and abundant har- vest, and the forests were gorgeous with the blossoming laurel and May-apple. The high stockade fence, the block-houses and bastions, and log cabins pierced with port-holes, seemed out of place in such a scene of pastoral beauty and repose. But the surrounding wilderness, melodious with wild-bird song, and fragrant with the perfume of wild flowers, Nvas the covert of beasts of prey and lurking savages; hence the utmost circumspection was necessary to protect themselves against surprise. A guard was always stationed at the fort, and CatJicriuc DuBois. \\ Avlieii the inhabitants went to labor in the fields they did so with their arms close at hand. It was on the morning of tlie memorable 7th day of June that Lewis Du Bois arose and went about his morning duties. Returning to his log cal)in for breakfast at the usual time, and the meal not being ready, acting under the impulse of the moment, he gave vent to his feelings in some unpleasant words. The gentle Catherine, who had left her beloved home in the Fatherland, where she possessed every comfort, choosing to follow the fortune of Lewis in a new and savage country, under all the privations of a backwoods life, — Catherine looked at her husband in surprise at his unwonted words; a tear started to trickle down the cheek of the young wife, as she seemed on the point of giving way to a burst of sobs, but she suddenly checked herself, and assuming the dignity of injured innocence, curtly answered him. In short this couple, on this eventful day, had their first serious misunderstanding. The breakfast was over at last. Unlike all other meals no brisk conver- sation was kept up. In fact this particular breakfast was })artaken of in silence, and at its close Lewis arose to go. It was his turn to labor in the field; his work lay some distance from home, and he was to take his noonday repast with him. His wife had prepared a choice venison steak, some fresh fish from the creek, a cake of the sweetest corn bread, and butter made l)y her own skilled hands; these she now handed him, packed carefully away in a neat little basket fashioned of white birch-bark. This she did with an averted glance, without proffering the accustomed good-bye. Lewis was deeply paiiied at this: he could but think he was to blame for it all. Still his pride stood in the way of an acknowledgement on his pait. Once on the tlu^eshold he was tem[)ted to return and plead forgiveness; as he |)assed the little window he saw Catherine seated at the puncheon table, with her face buried in hei- hands. He would have gone back, but heaiing his name called l>y other members of the working party who were awaiting him, he turned to accompany them. During the morning Lewis felt ill at ease. His companions noted his taci- turnity and vainly tried to elicit the cause. The day dragged wearily by; he longed for the hour to come when he could hasten to her side and plead for- giveness. What if something should occur, and he be not permitted to see her again! The thought startled him like a presentiment. Notwithstanding a guard had been left at Wildwyck, so long a time haut no response came. Was she taken prisoner or had she shared in the fate of many others, who met death by the flames that devoured their homes ? AU were too much absorbed in their own grief to heed his eager inquiries, or could not give him the desired information. The dead had l)een collected, such as had not been consumed in the burning Catherine DiiBois. 43 dwellings. Ten men, one woman ami tln-ee cliildren were aniong the victims. Bleeding, mntilated by the mnrderous tomahawk, the bodies were laid side by side, while sounds of bitter grief were uttered by bursting hearts. Not a soul among the living, gathered about the remains of the fallen, but had its store of grief. Such a feeUng of desolation, dread, sorrow mingled with regret, as filled the hearts of the survivors of the massacre of Wildwyck, when they realized the loss of friends and homes — such anguish and utter hopelessness, can oidy be realized by those who have passed through the ordeal. Among those most deeply stricken was Lewis DuBois. His house and nil his earthly goods were in ashes; his wife, he at last learned, had been carried off a i)risoner with other females and some children; and though he could not mourn her as dead, yet she might be reserved for a worse fate. It was not the least i)oignant part of his regret that the last words spoken to her— the last he might ever be permitted to speat^— were those of anger; and that his last re- membrance of her was her form seated at the little table sobbing at his harsh words. But those border men were not the ones to waste precious moments in out- ward exhibitions of grief when duty called to act. To prepare the dead for burial, and, if possible, to rescue the prisoners, were measures immediately re- solved upon. Tlie former was a sad duty, the latter a most dangerous task. All fear was banished from those whose wives and children were in the hands of savages; they would dare aii\i;hing that promised a rescue. While a few were left in charge of the fort, a band of thirty resolute men were assembled and sent in pursuit of the savages. With heavy hearts and anxious forebod- ings the remnant of the village saw this little l)and of heroes depart on tlieir errand of difficulty and danger, following them with tearful and prayerful anx- iety until they disappeared in the adjacent forest, when they betook themselves to the sad rites of the sepulture of their slain comrades. We will next follow the adventures of the weeping captives, torn from their homes by a band of whooping savages, red v/ith the blood of their slaugh- tered relatives. For the first few miles the demeanor of their savage captors was hai"sh and violent. They would menace them with the tomahawk by way of urging them to a more rapid movement. The Indians evidently feared pur- suit, and they were anxious to put as many miles betAveen tliem and their pos- sible pursuers as they could. Once out of reacli of immediate danger tlie party slackened their pace, and conducted the retreat more leisurely. Just before nightfall one of the prisoners gave out; she was tomahawked and scali)ed, and left where she fell. At last a halt was ordered, and the party prepared to bivouac for the niglit. Fires were liglited, and the savages arranged tliemselves for tlie evening meal. The prisoners Avere permitted to remain in company, a little apart from the savages, with a single sentinel to keep watch over them. They were not a little alarmed at the noise made by the wild animals in the woods around them, but were spared the knowledge at the time that those sounds were made by 44 Legends of the Shawangunk. beasts of prey, as they fought and feasted on the body of their lamented sister, tomahawked that afternoon. They were here destined to have tlie remembrance of their misfortunes awakened anew, as the savages displayed the booty they had carried off from the fort. Mrs. B. beheld a scarlet cloak that her little boy wore when he was brained by a savage— his scream of terror was still ringing in her ears. Mrs. G. recognized a coat as belonging to her husband, who was sliot down and scalped before her eyes. Catherine DuBois beheld all this with feelings of mingled emotion. As far as she knew^ her husband was alive. And as the oc- currences of the day came up before her she thought was she not a little at fault for the misunderstanding of the morning ? Might she not have been a little more patient, and not have cast back such a retort ? It was their first quarrel, and now they might never meet again. Ah, those words ! would they had remained unspoken ! The next morning the party again took up tlie line of march, following the alluvial bottoms along the banks of a stream. Towards noon a messenger ar- rived, and after a hurried consultation the savages divided into two parties, the larger one under the leadership of a hideously painted savage, while the smaller kept to the original course, which continued in charge of the prisoners. Towards the close of the day a halt was called. The captives had now traversed the whole distance between the present city of Kingston and the head waters of the Shawangunk kill. The savages, probably deeming themselves safe from pursuit, had for some time omitted the precautions they observed early in their flight, but little heed being paid to their captives other than keep- ing them within view. Catherine and her companions now beheld some movements of the Indians that concerned them greatly. Some of their captors had been gathering fagots and piling them into heaps — equal in number to the prisoners—while others were driving sharpened stakes into the ground near the piles of sticks. Under other circumstances these proceedings would have filled them with consterna- tion; but these heroic wojnen actually looked upon these preparations for their own torture with a degree of satisfaction, as they believed they beheld evidence of a speedy deliverance from their earthly troubles. The band of Christian women bowed their lieads and prayed to the Giver of all Good, that He would, in His infinite mercy, if consistent with His will, restore them to their homes and families; or if it should be theirs to suffer at the stake, that He would impart strength for the terrible ordeal that they be- held awaiting them. Then their pent-up feelings broke forth in song; and wilh swelling hearts, yet with voices unbroken, those captives sang Marot's beautiful French hynm, of which the following is a part: By Babel's stream the captives sate And wept for Zion's hapless fate; Useless their har{)s on willows hung, While foes required a sacred song. Greycoiirt Inii. 45 AVliilc tiiiis 11i«3' siini? tlio nioiirners viewed Tlii'ir foes by Cyrus's ai-m subdued, And saw his glory rise, who spread Their streets and fields with hosts of dead. Tliis was the first Christian song heard on the banks of tlie Shawangunk kill. Ti-adition says the savages were charmed with the music, and delayed the execution of the singers while they listened. Was the last stanza given above prophetic of what was then and there to take place \ In answer to tlieir prayers, God had sent them deHverance. A panic seized the red inon, and they fled in dismay for the mountains. The captives, not knowing the cause of alarm, ran after them; hut they presently heard the sound of well-known voices calling them back. The next moment they were clasped in the arms of tlieir husbands and brothers. The day was too far spent to start on the return journey, so they composed themselves for the night, with the dried leaves of the preceding autunm for couches, and the overhanging l)ranches for shelter. The fires were lighted of the fagots gathered by the Indians, though, providentially, not for the original purpose of torture, but for warmth and comfort. The night was sleepless. Each recounted to the others matters of interest relating to the death of friends at the village, and incidents of the captivity and pursuit. The sympathy of all was drawn out towards one of tlie relieving party, who, the day previous, had come upon the remains of his wife in the woods. It was she who had been tomahawked and scalped, not having the streng-th to keep up with the other prisoners; a pack of Avolves had devoured most of the flesh, the only means of identification being her dress. The jour- ney home was begun next morning, where a warm welcome awaited them. GREYCOURT INN. PASSENGEES by the Erie railway, as the trahi slows up at an unassuming station in southern Orange, will hear the stentorian voice of the train- man call out "Greycourt.'' This ai)pellation, so rythmical, and made up of such a strange combination, at once wins the attention of the tourist; and he casts about him for some romantic incident that may have given rise to the name. He moves up to the nearest bystander, who appears to l)e a resiy a rai)id march over the high ground east of the river. As they approached the gi'ound on which the battle was fought, Brant was seen deliberately marching toward the ford. Owing to intervening woods and hills, the belligerents lost sight of each other, when Brant Avheeled to the right and passed uj) a ravine known as Dry brook, over which Hathorn's route lay. By this stratagem, Brant was enabled to tlirow himself into Hathorn's rear, cutting off a portion of Hathorn's command, deliberateh^ selecting his ground for a battle, and forming an ambuscade. The battle-ground, says Quinlan, is situated on the crest of a hill, half a mile northeasterly from the Dry broOk at its nearest point, three miles distant * W»> follow the (lesciiption given by Quinlan, in his admirable History of SulHvan, as tlie best yet given of the battle. 52 Legends of the Shawangiuik. from Banyville and one from Lackawaxen. The hill has an altitude of twenty- five or thirty feet above its base, and two hundred above the Delaware, and descends east, west and south, while there is a nearly level plateau extending toward the north. This level ground is rimmed (particularly on the south side) with an irregular and broken ground of rocks. On tliat part of the ground nearest the river the Americans were hemmed in, and caught like rats in a trap. The battle commenced at nine in the morning. Before a gun was fired. Brant appeared in full view of the Americans, told them his force was superior to theirs, and demanded their surrender, promising them protection. While engaged in parley, he was shot at by one of the militiamen, the ball passing through Brant's belt. The warrior thereupon withdrew and joined his men. The battle opened and the forces were soon engaged in deadly conflict. Above the din of the strife, the voice of Brant was heard, in tones never to be forgotten by those who survived, giving orders for the return of those who were on the opposite side of the river. A part of the Americans kept tlie savages in check on the north side of the battle-ground, while others threw \\\, hastily a breastwork of stones about one hundred and fifty feet from the ledge which terminated the southern extremity of the plateau. Confined to about an acre of ground, screened by trees, rocks, flat stones turned on their edges, or whatever opportunity offered or exigency demanded, were ninety l)rave nien, who, without water, and surrounded by a host of howling savages, fought from ten o'clock to near sundown on a sultry July day. The disposition of the militia, and the effectual manner in which every as- sailal)]e point was defended, reflects credit on the mind that controlled them. By direction of Hathorn there was no useless firing. Ammunition was short, and it was necessary to husband it carefully. A gun discharged in any quarter revealed the position of its possessor, and left him exposed until he could re- load. With the exceptions indicated, every man fought in the Indian mode, each for himself, firing as opportunity offered, and engaging in individual con- flicts according to the barbarian custom. The annals of modern times contain no record of a more stubborn and heroic defense. In vain Brant sought for hours to break through the line. He was repelled at every point. What the fifty men were doing all that eventful day, wlio were sepai-ated from their companions during the morning, no one can now tell. We will put a charitable interpretation on their conduct, and suppose they were driven away by superior numbei's. Their movements are veiled in oblivion, and there let them remain. As the day drew to a close, Brant became disheartened. Tlie position of the brave patriots seemed to be impregnable, and it is said he was about to order a retreat when the death of a militiaman opened the way into the Amer- ican Hues. This faithful soldier had been stationed behind a rock on the north- iMinisink Jnxttlc. 53 west side, where he had remained all day, and kept the savages in check. Brant saw the advantage his death afforded, and, with the Indians near him, ruslied into the midst of the Goshen militia. The latter seeing the savages swarming into the centre of the hard-fought field, became demoralized, and sought safety by flight. Many of them were killed or womided in the attempt. Some incidents of the battle are worth repeating. Brant killed Wisner with his own hand. Some years afterward he was heard to say that after the battle was over, he found Wisner on the field so badly wounded that he coidd not live nor be removed; that if he was left alone on the battle-field wild beasts w^oiild devour him; that he was in full possession of all his faculties; that for a man to be eaten by wild beasts while alive was terrible; that to save Wisner from such a fate, he engaged him in conversation, and shot him dead. Captain Benjamin Vail was wounded in battle, and after the figlit was over, was found seated upon a rock, bleeding. He was killed while in this situ- ation, and by a Tory, Doctor Tusten was behind a rock attending to the necessities of the wounded when the retreat commenced. There were seventeen disabled men under his care, who appealed for protection and mercy. But the savages fell upon them, and all, including the Doctor, fell victims to the tomahawk and scalping -knife. Several attempted to escape by swimming the Delaware, and were shot. Of those engaged in the battle, thirty escaped, and forty-five, it is known, were killed. The remainder were taken prisoners, or perished while fugitives in the wilderness. Major Wood, of the militia, though not a Mason, accidentally gave the Masonic sign of distress. This was observed by Brant, who interposed to save Wood's hfe, giving him his own blanket to protect him from the night air while sleeping. Discovering subsequently that AVood was not one of the Brotherhood, he denounced the deception as dishonorable, but spared his life. The l)laiiket was accidentally damaged while in the prisoner's possession, which made Brant very angry. One of the militiamen attempted to escape with the others, but was so far exhausted that he was forced to turn aside and rest. In a little while he saw several Indians, one after the other, pass by in pursuit of the militia, but man- aged to keep himself out of their sight. Presently a large and jtowerful Indian discovered him, when, raising his gun, he fired his last shot and fled. The sav- age did not pursue; he was jn'obably disabled by the shot if not killed. Sanuiel Helm was stationed l)ehind a tree, when he discovered tlie head of an Indian thrust from behind a neighboring trunk, as if looking for a patriot to shoot at. Helm fired nnd tlie savage fefl; but Helm was immediately liit in the thigh by a ball from another Indian whom he had not seen. Helm droi)ped to the earth, but the savage did not immediately rush up to take his Scalp, be- ing anxious first to discover the result of his shot. This gave Helm a chance to reload which he did behind a natural breast-work whick screened him from 54 Legends of the SJiawangnnk. view. After dodging about a little the Indian made a dash for his scalp, but received a ballet instead, which put an end to his life. Helm said that the consternation of the Indian, on being confronted with the muzzle of his gun, was tiTily ridiculous. In April of the following year, Brant started from Niagara with another force to invade the frontier. At Tioga Point he detailed eleven of his warriors to go to Minisink for prisoners and scalps. With the remainder of his force, he started to invest the fort at Scoharie. Here he captured some prisoners who made him believe that the place was garrisoned by several hundred men — a bit of strategy that foiled even the wily Indian chieftain. Brant turned back, and shaped his course down the Delaware. One day his command was startled by the death-yell, which rang through the woods like the scream of a demon. They paused, waiting for an explanation of this unexpected signal, when, pres- ently, two of the eleven Indians who had been sent to the Minisink emerged from the woods, bearing the moccasins of their nine companions. They in- formed their chief that they had been to Minisink, where they had captured, one after the other, five lusty men, and had brought them as far as Tioga Point and encamped for the night. Here, while the eleven Indians were asleep, the prisoners had freed themselves from the cords which bound them, when each took a hatchet, and with surprising celerity brained nine of their captors. The other two savages, aroused by the noise of the blows, sprang to their feet and fled; but as they ran, one of them received the blade of a hatchet between his shoulders. Thus was the death of the slain heroes of Minisink avenged. For forty -three years the bones of those heroes slain on the banks of the Delaware were allowed to molder on the battle-ground. But one attempt had been made to gather them, and that was by the widows of the slaughtered men, of whom there were thirty-three in the Presbyterian congregation of Goshen. These heroic ladies set out for the battle-field on horseback; but, finding the journey too hazardous, they hired a man to perform the pious duty, wiio proved unfaithful and never returned. In 1822, the citizens of Goshen were led to perform a long-neglected duty by an address of Dr. D. R. Arnell at the annual meeting of the Orange County Medical Society, in which he gave a brief biography of Dr. Tusten. A com- mittee was appointed to collect the remains and ascertain the names of the fallen. The committee at once set upon the duty before them. The first day they traveled forty miles thi-ough the wilderness. At Halfway-brook, six miles from the battle-ground, the party left their horses. The vicinity was an un- broken wilderness, with no trace of improvement of any kind, and the dangej* of attempting to ride was so great that they chose to clamber over the rough ground on foot. The committee were astonished at the route taken by the little army; the descents were frightful and the country rugged beyond conception. The ma- jority of the bones were found on the spot where the battle was fought and Mini sink J hit tic. 55 near a small marsh or pond a foNv rods east. This fact shows that the militia, made reckless hy tliirst, went for water and were killed. Some were found at a distance of several miles. They were the remains pi-ohahly of woinided men, who had wandered away and finally died of tlu.'ir W(junds and hunger. Wild beasts may luu'e removed others. The skeleton (jf one man was found in the crevice of a rock where he had probably crept and died. The whole num- ber of l)ones collected l)y the Connnittee was about tln-ec hundred; other bones were subsequently found by hunters and brought in It may be suggested that all of the bones collected may not liave been the remains of the white soldiers; that it would be impossible to distinguish, so long afterwards, the skeleton of a white man from that of an Indian It should be borne in mind that it was the rule of Indian warfare, Avlien successfid, to gather up and carry off aU their slain. ( )n this occasion the survivors saw the Indians engaged in this very duty. The gathered remains were taken to Goshen, where they were buried with imposing ceremonies in the presence of fifteen thousand persons, including the military of the county, and a corps of L'adets fron) West Point under the com- mand of Major Worth * This monument gradually fell into decay and no measures were taken to jireserve it. In ISOu, ^lerrit H. Cook, Vl. D., a resident of Orange county, be- ([ueathed four thousand dollars for a new one, which was dedicated on the s;')d anniversary of the battle, on which occasion John C. Dimmick, a native of Bloomingburgh, officiated as orator of the day. Mrs. Abigail Mitchell, a daughter of Captain Bezaleel Tyler (slain at tiie battle of ^linisink), was pres- ent, and witnessed the ceremonies. She was five years old at tlie time of the battle, and had resided the greater part of her life at Cochecton. On the 2!2d of July, 1S70, the one hundredth anniversary of tlie Minisink battle, a large and enthusiastic gathering was held on the battle-ground. Although the ap- proach to the place was rough and exceedingly difiicult, it being necessary to cut a road through the woods for tlie occasion, upwards of two thousand ])er- sons were present at the ceremony, A monument was set upon the ground sacred to the blood of the slain heroes, and dedicated in conmiemoration of their services. ii ^^^^ .^^3^i«fe::^' MONUMENT ON MINISINK B.^TTLE-GROUND. 56 Legends of the Shawangitnk. It was on one pleasant morning in June that we left the hotel at Lacka- waxen before the people were astir, and crossing the Delaware and Hudson aque- duct, began the winding ascent of the mountain. After a brisk walk of about two miles we came to the residence of Mr, Horace E. Twichell, to whom we had a letter of introduction. That gentleman icindly volunteered to go with us to the battle-ground, which Hes partly on his premises, and locate the points of interest. The battle-field comprises several acres of table- land, bordered by an abrupt descent <^n all sides except a narrovv" neck at its northern extremity. It is thickly strewn with pieces of slate rock, which the brave heroes turned to good account in standing upon their edges, and lying behind their friendly shelter during the engagement. Some of these stones stiU remain in the position in which they were then left. On the neck of land there is a huge boulder. Behind this natural rampart, a hunter had taken his position on the day of the fight, and while his comrades loaded the guns for him, he so effectually swept the only available approach to the battle-ground, as to keep the whole force of Indians at bay during the entire contest. At length the hunter was killed, and the Indians, taking advan- tage of the circumstance, rushed in and the battle became a rout. A few yards from this rock, screened on aU sides by the contour of the ground and the protecting ledge, the spot was pointed out where for years lay the skeletons of the brave Dr. Tusten and his seventeen slain companions, who were all tomahawked and scalped after the battle was over. Further on stands an old pine tree, on which are tlie initials "J. B.," believed to have been cut in the bark by the Indian fighter, Joseph Brant. An incident of the battle was related to me while rambling over the field. A soldier was assisting a wounded comrade to escape. The Indians were heard in close pursuit, and the wounded man soon saw that all efforts on his part were fruitless. So taking his pocket-book and papers he handed them to his companion, with the request that he give them to his wife at Goshen, and bade liim leave him to his fate. The man made good his escape, and delivered the package and money as directed. Mother MtCowan, still living at Handsome Eddy, used to see the skeletons around the spring to the east of the battle-ground, and remembers seeing some of the soldiers that were engaged in the battle. Mr. Isaac Mills, about forty years ago, found a skeleton about three-fourths of a mile from the battle-field. Judge Thomas H. Kidgeway, of Lackawaxen, informed us that he rememl)ers going to pick huckleberries on the mountain seventy years ago, when the skeletons of the slain Minisink heroes lay thickly scattered about among the bushes, and distinctly recalls his childish fears of the bones. Near the foot of the monument, entirely covered up with loose slate, was found the skeleton of a man. This was probably the work of the Indians, who, for some leason, gave this man a sepulture. Brant ami flic ScJiool-Girls. 57 The round stone on the top of the numumont is a white flint houlder, found in the Delaware river near the spot where tlie Indian was shot hy the scouts })revious to the hattle. BRANT AND THE SCHOOL-GIRLS. THE name of Brant was sufficient to strike the liearts of the early pioneers with terror. Fears of an attack from the iMohawk chief and his red Avarriors kept the settlements in a continual ferment. Stories of pillage and murder, carried on under Brant's direction, were passed from lip to lip— some doubtless without foundation, others greatly exaggerated —still the chieftain had committed deeds of blood sufficient to merit the reputation he bore. As might be expected, there were many false alarms, on which occasions the women and children would take refuge in the nearest block-house, while the men would arm themselves and i)rei)are for defense. The young ])eoi)le were l)articularly alert, and at the least luiusual noise in the woods would sound tlie alarm. A. young man m SuUivan county ran breathless into the nearest village declaring that his father's house was surrounded by more than twenty savages. The men turned out with their gmis; but on reaching the scene of the supposed danger, they discovered the enemy to be only a number of hoot-owls. The dread of Indians overcame all other fear. It is related of Mrs. Overton, of :Maniakating valley, that, during the temporary absence of her husband, the young mother would abandon her log-cabin at night, and taking her children with her, sleep in the woods or in a lye-field. Tradition says that her youngest child was but a few weeks old and very cross and ii'oublesome ; but it was ob- served that at such times it was vei-y quiet. But if the people were sometimes needlessly alarmed, at other times it would have been greatly to their advantage to have been more on their guai-d. The day before the massacre at Minisink, the notoiious Brant, with a body of Tories and Indians, attacked the settlement in the present to^\^l of Deerpark. Such of the inhal)itants as were warned of their danger in time, fled to the blockhouse for shelter. Others were surprised in their homes and in the field, and were either captured or slain. Some savages entered James Swartwout's blacksmith shop. In the shop were Mr. Swartwout and a negro who assisted at the forge. Swartwout di- rected the negi-o to stay in the shop as the Indians would not be hkely to jnolest him, while Swai-twout crawled up the forge chinmey and concealed himself there. Scarcely had he done so Avhen the savages rushed into the sho}), and a]»- peared nmch disappointed at finding no one but the negro present. The v. however, contented themselves with rummaging about the shop, tumbling everything over, and making havoc of whatever came in their way. Presently 58 Lep-ends of the Shawan^unk. one of them, spying the bellows handle, cauglit hold of it. Finding it would move, he began to operate the handle, which of course made the sparks fly. He now began blowing at a furious rate, and the other savages gathered round to see the oj)eration. Swartw^out, being directly over the fire, was nearly suffo- cated by the heat and smoke. The negro, apprehensive that Swartwout could not much longer retain his position, called upon the savage to desist, crying out with a voice of authority — "Stop, or you will spoil that thing," The Indian respected the caution, and ceased to blow. • Not far away, near the fort of the Shawangunk, was the log school-house. The savages raided the settlement while the school was in session. While the fathers and mothers were fleeing for their own safety, they thought of their children, a mile or more away, and hoped the school-house might escape the at- tention of the savages. But in this they w^ere doomed to disappointment. The BRANT AND THE SCHOOL-GIRLS. Indians entered, killed and scalped the teacher, Jeremiah Van Ankeu, in the presence of tlie scholars. Some of the larger boys shared the same fate, being cut down with the tomahawk; others succeeded in escaping to the Avoods. The girls stood by the slain body of their teacher, not knowing where to turn or what to do. Presently an Indian came along, and dashed some l)lack paint on their aprons, bidding them hold up the mark when they saw the Indians coming, and that wordd save them; and with the yell of a savage he sprang into the woods. This Indian was none other than Brant; and as the savages ran about from place to place, murdering and scalping such as came in their way, on seeing the black mark they left the children undisturbed. The girls induced the boys to come out of the woods, and the children arranged themselves m rows, the girls with the marked aprons standing in front. As the Indians passed and repassed they would hold up the palladium of safety, and v^^ere suffered to re- main unharmed. Brant and the School-Girls. 59 Major John Decker resided in the Mamakating valley, and tradition says the Indians raided it for the purpose of obtaining Ins scalp, for wliich tlie British had offered a handsome reward, lie was Major of the Goshen Regiment of Foot of Orange county. The Major's house was constiTicted of wood, witli logs laid \\y hy way of fortification, and w^as closed by a heavy gate. It was the month of July. The men were at work in the harvest field, and no one was in tlie house except tlie aged mother and a child. The ^Major's wife and a colored woman were at a spring washing. A Tory entered and told the mother they w^ere going to burn down the house, and proceeded to l)uild a fire in the middle of tlie floor. Two pails of water stood in the kitchen; -the old lady poured this on the fire and extinguished it. The Indians told her not to do that again or they woujd kill her. Mrs. Decker attempted to run across the fields to another fort, but Brant sent a sav- age to bring her back; coolly informing her that his object in ha^^ng her brought back was that she might see her husband's house burn down; at the same time assuring her that she would not be harmed. " Can I save anything ? " cried the terrified woman, " Yes, anything you can," was the response of the Mohawk chief. Mrs. Decker rushed into the burning dwelling, caught u]) two beds and bedding, one after the other, and, with the assistance of some young Indians that Brant sent to help her, brought them to a place of safety. That night the family of Major Decker slept on the l)anks of the Xeversink, with no other covering than the canop}" of heaven. The Major w^as absent that day at a funeral; it was on his return that he had seen from afar the smoke of his burning dwelling. He put spurs to his hovse, and presently met a party of Indians in the road. The ]Major rode di- rectly through the party without being fired at. Then, probably through fear of encountering a larger force, he wheeled about and rode back again, when he was fired upon and wounded. His horse becoming unmanageable, he rode into a tree-top, closely pursued by the savages. Here he left his horse and took refuge in a cave, at a place near where the Erie railroad now passes. The In- dians followed to the opening in the rock, but did not find the object of theii- search. That night he made his way on foot through the mountains to Finch- ville, wJiere he found his son, who was one of the lads that had escaped slaughter at the school-house. This son, on running away from the Indians at the time of the attack, found a child a year and a half old, which had been lost by its mother in the confusion. He took up the little child, found his father's cow by following the sound (jf the bell, gave the Uttle one some milk, and restored it unharmed to its mother. 6o Legends of the Shawangunk. CLAUDIUS SMITH; OR THE ORANGE COUNTY TORIES. THERE is much in the career of Claudius Smith to interest the student of human nature. Whether we regard his deeds of violence as but the legitimate working of his evil propensities, in defiance of God and man, or whether we deem him in a measure fortified in his attitude toward the Whigs by his sense of loyalty to the king, we cannot deny that he displayed qualities of leadership worthy of a better cause. Had he shown a like energy and prowess at the head of a few thousand troops, his praises would have been sounded on every lip. We leave for others to draw the line between the bandit chief, whom all abhor, and the lordly conqueror, whom all affect to honor. Claudius Smith is described as having been a man of large stature and of commanding presence; possessed of powerful nerve and keen penetration; cautious and wily; in short, he was admirably formed by nature for a bandit chieftai Claudius early manifested a thieving propensity, in which it is said he was encouraged by his father. The boy, on one occasion, having stolen some iron wedges, on which were stamped the owner's initials, his father assisted him to grind the letters out. His mother, who appears to have been of a different mould, was shocked at the depravity manifested by her son; and she once said to him as though with the voice of prophecy — "Claudius, some day you will die like a trooper's horse with your shoes on," meaning that he would come to his death by violent means. These words of his mother seemed to rankle in the heart of Claudius; and at a subsequent period of his life he publicly recalled them under circumstances that indicated an infernal depravity, deep and ingrained, in his nature. The topography of the country in which he resided, and the times in which he flourished, were eminently favorable for the development of those qualities which made his name such a terror to the Shawangunk region. The town of Monroe, Orange county, is entitled to the distinction of having been the resi- dence of Claudius Smith. This and the adjoining towns abound in wild moun- tains with almost impregnable fastnesses, favorable alike for marauding incur- sions and the secreting of booty. From these inaccessible momitain haunts the robbers would swooi^ dowii upon the unsuspecting and defenceless residents of the valley, murder and plunder to their hearts' content, and escape to their re- treats before assistance could be obtained. Besides, the British forces located at Stony Point and Fort Lee furnished a cover for the marauders to whose pro- tection they could fly when hard pressed, and likewise a favorable market for stolen property; and we may add, the British frequently were known to in- stigate these expeditions by the offer of reward. Under such conditions, Claudius Smith, who, had circumstances been Claudius Si/ii'f/i ; or the Orange Coitn/y Tories 6i i^ otherwise, might have developed into a respected citizen, speedily acquired a local reputation as unenviable as that of Rol)in Hood. His name is first met witli in iniblic records as being in jail at Kingston, " charged with stealing oxen belonging to the continent." From Kingston he was transferred to the jail at Goshen, where he soon found means to escape. He had sons old enough to join him in his plundering expediticms, and one of them, after the death of Claudius, assumed commantl of the gang. The active and influential Whigs of the vicinity were the especial ol)jects against which the Tory bandits directed their attacks. Claudius had made public threats against Col. Jesse Woodhull, Samuel Strong, Cole Curtis and others. From some act of personal kindness shown him l)y Col. Woodhull he revoked his threat against, that gentleman, but carried it out against ^Major Strong. The Colonel was in such continual dread of his enemy that he did not sleep in his own house for months before the threat Avas revoked. The Colonel had a valuable blooded mare which the freebooting Tory had set envious eyes upon, and had given out that he would steal it. For better security Woodhull had the animal placed in the cellar of his dwelling. One evening Claudius, having secreted himself in a straw barrack near the house for the purpose, seized a favorable opportunity to dart into the cellar while the family were at tea, and took the animal out. He had not left the yard ^vith his stolen property before he was discovered by the inmates of the house. A gentleman at the table sprang up with his gun, and was about to fire upon the retreating robber when the Colonel stopped him, observing, " Don't shoot; he'll kill me if you miss him." On another occasion Claudius made a forcible entry into the Colonel's house during the absence of the latter from home. Mrs. Woodlndl possessed a valu- able set of silver, and it was that which excited the cupidity of the Tory chief and his gang. While the robbers were engaged in breaking down the door, the heroic lady had huiriedly secreted the silver in the cradle, and placing her child into it was api)arently endeavoring to calm the little one to sleep. Claudius searched thoroughly for the missing plate; not finding it, he was content to leave, taking with him some articles of minor value only. Mrs. Woodluill liad some difficulty in quieting the child, who was old enougli to talk a little, and who inquired of her mother if she thought they would steal her calico frock. It was that same night that the gang attacked the house of Major Strong. They came to the Major's house about midnight when that gentleman was in bed. They broke open and entered the outer door of the house; they next re- moved a i)anel from the door leading to another room out of which opened a bedroom, where the Major lodged. The latter had come out of his sleeping apartment with a pistol and a gun; he was fired at by the miscreants, who held the niuzzles of their guns through the broken panel, but was unhurt by the discharge. He was preparing to return their fire when his assailants called upon him to deliver up his arms, when he should have quarter. Setting down his gun against the wall, he approached the door to open it ; but as he advanced 62 Legends of the SkaivaiigiLnk. they perfidiously fired upon him a second time, killing him instantly, two balls entering his body. Other incidents are given of Claudius Smith's career which would disprove the accepted opinion that he was lost to the common dictates of humanity. It is claimed in his behalf that the poor man found in him a friend; that he was ever ready to share his meal and purse with any who stood in need; and fur- thermore, that what he stole from the affluent he frequently bestowed upon the indigent. Col. McClaughry was taken prisoner at the fall of Fort Montgomery in 1777, and confined in British dungeons and prison ships for a long time. During much of his confinement he was absolutely suffering for the necessaries of life. To ameliorate his condition his wife proposed to send him some home comforts, and applied to Abimal Young for a small loan for that purpose, who she knew had plenty of specie by him. The old miserly fellow surlily and peremptorily refused the loan, and the poor woman went home discomfited. The incident came to the ears of Claudius. "The old miser,'' exclaimed the Tory chief ; "I'll teach him to be a little more liberal. If he won't lend Mrs. McClaughry of his own will, I'll take the money from him and send it to the Colonel myself." Tradition says that shortly after this, one dark night, Claudius with a few trusty followers actually invested the house of Young to force that gentleman to produce the desired money. The old man refused to yield to their demands. Claudius knew there was money secreted somewhere about the house, but a diligent search failed to reveal it. They threatened to no purpose. They next took Young out into the yard and told liim they would swing him up to the well-pole if he did not divulge the place of its concealment; he persisted in his refusal to tell, whereupon the bandits put a rope around his neck and suspended him from the well-pole. Letting him down after he had hung a sufficient time, as they judged, he soon revived, and they again demanded his money. The old man was still stubborn; he refused to reveal the place where it was kept, and again he was dangling in the air. This was done three times. The robbers were getting im- patient; and the third time tliey let the old man hang so long that he was nearly dead when let down. When he finally revived they renewed their de- mand, but he had not changed his determination in the least. It was evident to them that he would sooner part with his life than his money. They returned to the house, made another search, and were rewarded by finding some money, together with a number of mortgages, deeds and other papers, which they carried off. To the credit of Claudius be it said, a part of the booty went to minister to the comfort of Mrs. McClaughry's imprisoned husband. When Claudius Smith was about to suffer the penalty of death for his crimes, while he stood at the scaffold at Goshen with the noose about his neck, Abimal Young made his way to the platform and inquired of Smith where those papers were that he and his followers stole from him the night they hung Claudius Suiitli ; or tlic Orauoc County lories, 6 J him up to the Avell-pole, averring that they could be of no use to liini now. To wliich request the liardened man retorted, " Mr. Young, tliifi is no place to talk about papers; meet me in the next world and I will tell you all about them." An old resident of Orange county, still referred to as Judge Bodle, on one occasion met Claudius in the road in a lonely locality. Each knew the other, as they Avere neighbors; the Judge saw that escape was impossible, so he ,\\)- proached the noted bandit with a bold front. The meeting was seemingly a friendly one, Claudius evidently enjoying the discomfiture of the Judge. He inquired of the latter the news from the river, and continued: " Mr. Bodlc, you seem weary with walking; go to my dwelling-house yonder and ask my wife to get you a breakfast, and tell her I sent you." It is not related whether the Judge accepted the invitation or not; probably he made the speediest time pos- sil)le to a place of safety as soon as he was out of sight of his would-be enter- tainer. The atrocities of the Tory gang at last became so daring and formidaljle that, after the assassination of Major Strong, Gov. Clinton, Octol)er 31, 1778, offered a large rew^ard for the apprehension of Smith and his two sons. Eichard and James. On being apprised of the Governor's proclamation, he fled to Long Island for safety. What is worthy of remark, both Gov. Clinton and Claudius Smith — the executive and the outlaw — were residents of southern Orange county, and may have been personally known to each other. The determination of Claudius to go to Long Island for greater security was most unfortunate for himself. One Major John Brush made up a party, and during a dark night visited the house in which the Tory chief was stopping, seized him while he was in bed and carried him across the sound into Connect- icut. He was next conveyed under a strong escort to Fishkill Landing, where he was met by Col. Isaac NicoU, sheriff of Orange county; and from thence, under guard of Col. Woodhuirs troop of light-horse, was taken to Goshen. Here he was heavily ironed and placed in jail to await his trial. He was tried on the 13th of January. 1775», on three indictments for burglary and robbery, and found guilty on each of them, and nine days thereafter was publicly exe- cuted in Goshen. During the period of his incarceration at that place, both before his trial and while he was awaiting execution, Claudius Smith lived in hopes his men would undertake his rescue. Even Avhen he was being led to the scaffold he was observed to cast furtive glances over his shoulder towards Slate hill, where about a mile away was a cave which was said to be a rendezvous of the robber gang. But he was so strongly guarded that no attempt at rescue was made, and would doubtless have failed if undertaken. One of tlie guard was stationed at all times at the " grief-hole " opening into his cell, with a loaded musket, with orders to shoot him dead if any attempt was made on the jail by his friends outside. The fated hour amved, and Claudius was led out of his gloomy prison and permitted to tak<> hi>< last look upon earth. He Avalked up the steps of the 64 Legends of the Shaivangutik. scaffold with a firm tread. He had dressed himself with scrupulous neatness, in black broadcloth with silver buttons, and white stockings. This was in the days of public executions; and he looked from the scaffold into the faces of thousands who had gathered there to see him die. He smiled grimly as he spoke to several men in the crowd below whom he knew. Before the final adjustment of the noose Claudius stooped to i-emove his shoes. When asked why he did so he repeated the words of his mother that he would die with his shoes on, and added that he "wanted to make her out a liar." He was interred near the scaffold. Years afterwards a gentleman by the name of Wood, as he stood conversing with an acquaintance on the village green at Goshen, happening to press upon the greensward with his cane at a certain spot, found it would easily pierce the soil as though there was some sort of hollow underneath. A slight examination of the place showed it to be a shallow grave, and that the bones of a human skeleton lay entombed there. Further inquiry proved the remains to be those of the noted bandit chief, Claudius Smith. Scores of people were attracted to the place, and some of the more curious carried away portions of the skeleton as souvenirs. Orrin Ensign, the village blacksmith, made some of the bones into knife-handles; doubtless some of them are still doing duty in that capacity. It is even believed by many of the people of Goshen that the skull of Claudius Smith is embedded in the masonry over the front door of the present court-house in that place. Some of Smith's associates were even greater criminals than himself. His son James was hung at Goshen soon after his own execution: his eldest son, William, was subsequently shot in the mountains, and the body never was buried but became the food of wolves and crows, where the bones lay bleaching for years afterward. The following facts, gathered from a newspaper printed in 1770, will serve to give a little more of the history of this family : " We hear from Goshen that a horrible murder was committed near the Sterling Iron Works on the night of Saturday, the 26th of March, by a party of villains, five or six in number, the principal of whom was Eichard Smith, the oldest surviving son of the late Claudius Smith, of infamous memory. These bloody miscreants it seems that night intended to murder two men who had shown some activity in apprehending those robbers who infested the neigh- borhood. " They first w^ent to the house of John Clark, near the iron works, whom they dragged from his house and then shot him. Some remains of life being observed in him, one of them said ' He is not dead enough yet,'' and shot him through the arm again, and then left him. He lived some hours after, and gave some account of their names and behavior. They then went to the house of a neighbor, Vho, hearing some noise they made on approaching, got up and stood on his defense, with his gun loaded and bayonet fixed, in a corner of his little log cabin. They burst open the door, but seeing him stand with his gun, KUt'K lill T O N THE DELAWAKK I'lVISluN EKIK KAILWAV. NKAK I'oUT JKIi\l^. N. V. lidward Roblin. 65 they were afraid to enter, and tliouglit proper to march off. The following was pinned to Clark's coat:— " 'A Warnincj to thk Rebels. — You are hereby warned at your peril to desist from hanging any more friends to government as you did Claudius Smith. You are likewise warned to use James Smith, James Flnelling, and William Cole well, and ease them of their irons, for we are determined to hang six for one, for the blood of the innocent cries aloud for vengeance. Your noted friend Captain Williams and his crew of robbers and murderers we have got in our power, and the l)lood of Claudius Smith shall be repaid. There are par- ticular companies of us that belong to Col. Butler's army, Indians as well as white men, and particularly numbers from New York, that are resolved to be avenged on you for your cruelty and murder. We are to i-emind you tliat you are the beginners and aggressors, for by your cmel oppressions and blood}- actions you drive us to it. This is the first, and we are determined to pursue in on your heads and leaders to the last //// the whole of yon are murdered.'' " But this son of Claudius did not possess the qualities of leadership displayed by his father, and the clan was finally broken up by the people of Monroe, as- sisted by some troops from Washington's ai-my. Richard Smith took refuge in Canada; others fled to parts unknown, and thus ended the highwayman's profession in Orange county. Many localities of the vicinity will long be re- membered from their association with the deeds of blood and crime that made the clan famous. Their retreats in the mountains can be readily found to this day by the curious. That the Tories buried much valuable booty in these mountains may bo inferred from the circumstance that about the year 1805 some of Smith's de- scendants came from Canada, and searched for the property according to direc- tions that had been lianded down to them. They foujid a lot of nniskets, but nothing else. About the year 1S24, descendants of Edward Roblin, another of the gang, came from Canada with written directions, and explored the country with no better results. Search was made in a certain spring where it was said valuable silver plate had been secreted, but nothing of value was found. Per- haps the other members of the band found the depository, and, unknown to Smith and Roblin, appropriated the property. EDWARD ROBLIN. MORE than a century ago there lived near the base of the Shawangiuik mountain, in Orange county, a well-to-do-farmer by the name of Price. One day a boy came to him seeking employment. Mr. Pi-ice eyed the lad cir- cumspectly over the rim of his gold spectacles, asked him a few (juestions, and was so well pleased with his ready answers and intelligent ways that he con- sented to take him on trial. The boy proved to be an industrious and tiiist- 66 Legends of the Slia^uangunk. worthy hand, and remained with Mr. Price until he had grown up into a tall, fine-looking young man. That lad was Edward Roblin Now it so happened that Mr. Price had a comely daughter named Zadie, a year or two younger than Edward. Inasmuch as the young people were thrown much into each other's company, with few other associates of their own age, it was but natural that the childlike friendship of youth should ripen and develop into a more tender and enduring affection as they grew to maturity. Mr. Price was not a very observing man, or he was too much absorbed in money-making, or else the young people maintained a very discreet behavior during their courtship; certain it is, that the first intimation the old man had of the state of affairs, was when young Edward one day approached him and formally asked the hand of his daughter in marriage. This revelation fell upon the father like a thunderbolt. He fiew into a towering passion; sent his daughter up stairs, and forbade their speaking to one another again. In vain the young man pleaded his cause; he had served him long and faithfully, almost as many years as Jacob had served of old. The father was immovable. " You can't have my daughter, and that's the end of it," and he sent the young man from his presence. In one important matter the father failed to exhibit the wise foresight for wliich he was noted— he did not discharge the young man; in fact he could not well manage the farm without him. It must not be thought strange, there- fore, that the young people found means to communicate with each other, and to carry on a sort of clandestine courtship. One morning Edward was not found at his chores. And he was always so punctual. Mr. Price went to his room and knocked. No response. He opened the door. The room was empty, nor did the bed bear evidence of having been slept in the night before. "A pretty how-d'ye-do, I do declare," and the old man flew quickly to the door of his daughter's apartment. He did not stop to knock. The door yielded to his touch. Her room, too, was without an occupant, the bed care- fully made, and the pillows in place. The truth now broke in upon the mind of the old man. " It's fully twenty miles to the Dominie's, and, by my troth, I'll be there, too ! " ejaculated he. He hastened to a local magistrate, where he swore out a warrant on a false accusation against young Robhn for debt. He next secured the attendance of a constable, and thus equipped the two went flying over the country behind Mr. Price's fleetest horse. Arrived at the house of the Dominie they did not stop for ceremony; there was no time for that; but they burst unannounced into the room just as the young couple were standing up before the minister. *' Ha, my pretty birds, but I've caught you finely ! " And while the father took charge of the young lady, the constable took charge of the young man, leaving the Dominie to muse at his leisure on the mutability of human affairs, and mourn over his loss of a marriage fee. Zadie, dis- Edward Robliii. 67 consolate and inconsolable, was taken back to her home; while Edward, without friends and in the clutches of the law, was thrown into prison along with felons of the basest sort. In vain he protested he was under no pecuniary obligation to Mr. Price: that the money paid to him by tliat gentle- man, on which the charge for his arrest was based, was for services well and faithfully rendered. Tlie word of Mr, Price was sufficient to deprive Edward of his liberty, w^hether by just cause or otherwise was then nothing to the ques- tion; wliile his influence was such that he could get the trial postponed for an indefinite period. Meanwhile Edward's incarceration was an insurmountable barrier to his love-makuig for the present; at the same time the old man chuckled at the success of his scheme to get Edward effectually out of the way, while he proceeded to mature his plan of marrying Zadie more to his wishes. To while away the dull hours of his imprisonment Edward learned to play tlie fiddle. He soon became so skillful in the use of the instrument that he found in it a new language in which to express Ms disappointment, and merge liis never-dying affection for his sweetheart into sounds of melancholy melody that were wafted far beyond the hmits of his prison bars. His story of roman- tic incident had got abroad; and love-lorn damsels would come with shppered feet to Hsten to his tale of disappointment, as he drew it out in languishing harmonies. Not unfrequently whole bevies of Goshen maidens would gather under his window of a pleasant summer evening, and, casting anxious glances upward at the baiTed window, heave a sigh of pity in Ms behalf. Months rolled by. Edward was still in prison. No trial had been accorded him, with no immediate prospect of any. All this while he had received no word, no token from Zadie. The vigilance of a father was never relaxed, and no love epistles could pass between them. Driven to desperation by the entreaties and commands of her tyrant father, Zadie at last married a man she abhorred, nmch older than herself, but who had the reputation of being wealthy. As soon as this was consummated, the father with a maUcious pleasure took means to have it speedily communicated to the ears of young Roblin. The strains of the fiddle were now more melan- choly and grief -laden than ever; and one of the fair listeners under Edward's window was moved to tears, so great a soitow did the doleful vibrations convey. The jail-keeper had a pretty daughter. It was a part of her duty to take food to the prisoners. It may have been the result of accident, or sheer adver- tence on her part, but the fullest plate and the choicest shce was apt to be handed in at the " grief -hole " of Edward's cell. The jailer himself often con- descended to speak a kindly word to him. An interest now began to be awak- ened in the minds of outsiders for his release; even Mr. Price himself could now have no reason for desiring a continuance of his imprisonment. But young Edward did not wait for the slow process of law to reUeve him from his con- finement. One morning as the jailer was making his accustomed rounds lie was sur- prised to find the cell of Edward tenantless. An inspection of his dwelling re- 68 Legends of tJie Shawangiuik. vealed the fact tliat his daughter's room was hkewise unoccupied. Just then word came to him from the stahle boy that the stall of his favorite chestnut gelding was empty. Putting this and that together, the poor jailer was lost in imagining all sorts of evils; in short he was so bewildered he knew not which way to turn; his grief at the loss of his chestnut gelding was the most bitter of all; and to satisf}^ himself he made a visit in person to the stable, and found it was but too true — his favorite was gone, the stall was empty, with the exception of a limb from a chestnut tree in the yard, which limb was tied to the mangei- in lieu of the horse. To this limb was attached a note addressed to himself in tlie following words: My Dear Father-in-Law — As you will be when you read this, — pardon the Uberty I take in exchangiiio- horses with you. I acknowledge this is a horse of another color, still there is not much difference; as yours was a chestnut horse the exchange is but fair, fortius is a horse chestnut. It is the best legacy I can leave you at present, coupled with the best wishes of Edward Koblin. All the village dames suddenly discovered that the jailer's daughter was a shiftless minx. Nothing moi'e was heard of her or of her husband until Ed- ward turned u|) with the Tory gang of Claudius Smith. Edward was second in enterprise and daring to none but his chief. The husband of Zadie Price turned out to be a poor, miserable fellow, whose reputed wealth was only pretension. Zadie soon returned to her father's home, rapidly went into a decline, and in a few years died of a broken heart. LIEUTENANT BURT. PERHAPS the most severe chastisement ever meted out to the Tories and their Indian allies in the region of which we write, was on an occasion in which Lieutenant James Burt took an active part. Lieutenant Burt was a res- ident of the town of Warwick, Orange county; and was an active Whig, bold, aggressive, and vigilant in defending the neighborhood against the attacks of the Tory outlaws. In the village of W^arwick resided a silversmith by the name of Johnson. He lived in a stone house, and from the nature of his business, having at times considerable silver plate and money about him, he kept his apartments carefully sceured and guarded. The promise of so much rich booty excited the cupidity of his Tory neighbors, and they resolved to attack and rob the house on the first favorable opportunity. Accordingly, one dark, rainy night, a party of eleven Tories surrounded his house, some of Johnson's nearest neighbors being with the gang. Johnson's houseliold consisted of two sisters and two negro boys, none of Lieutenant Jhtrt. 69 them being of any assistance in defending the place. He made a stul)born re- sistance; but the robbers broke ()i)en the house, and one of them deahng a heavy- sword-cut on Jolmson's slioulder, which disabled him, the ruffians were free to ransack the house at their will. One of the negi-o boys and a Mr. Coe had been out that night eeling. Coming home just as the Tories were at the lieight of their pillaging, the lat- ter, supposing the settlers had mustered to attack them, became frightened and fled, taking with them all the valuables of the house. Lieutenant Burt was inmiediately ai)prised of the occurrence; and though the night was dark, and the rain falling in torrents, he inmiediately started to warn out his company. His way led him through a piece of woods; and while passing through he thought he heard three guns snap. Burt drew up his nuisket to Are, in-oposing to shoot at random in the direction of the sound; but as he ieared the flash of his gun woidd expose his position, he refrained and passed on. He warned out his company, and before morning they were in full pursuit of the Tory gang. Coming upon some Continental troops in the moimtains, the latter were induced to join in the pursuit, the regular troops following one side of the range and the volunteers the other. Lieutenant Burt's company suddenly came upon the robbers Avhile the lat- ter were encamped and eating their breakfast. They at once opened fire upon the robbers, and killed five out of the eleven. The other six started to mn, when another of the gang was brought down by a shot in the leg, and secured. The other five made their escape and fled toward New Jersey, closely followed by their pursuers. A number of stolen articles were found at this place. The whole population along the route of retreat was alarmed and every body joined in the pursuit of the fugitives. Three more were shot during the chase; the other two made their way to Hackensack, where each stole a horse and continued their flight. They were again pursued, the farmers tendering the troops the use of their horses for the purpose; at last one was sl\ot and killed, and the other wounded and captured. Lieutenant Burt had told the story of his hearing the snapping of guns in tlie woods, but his companions were inclined to discredit his stoiy, and jeered liim not a little at his groundless alarm. To convince them he was not nn'staken, Burt led them to the spot where he heard the guns snap. It was found the rob- l)ers had been seated on a log Avithin a few yards where the Lieutenant ])assed, as was shown by a number of stolen articles they had left there. The rain liad wet the priming of their guns, to which circumstance he probably owed his prov- idential escape. Legends of the Shawangunk. THE DUBOIS HOMESTEAD. AN early settler and patentee of Orange county, and one who figured quite largely in events pertaining to the frontier history of what is now ]\lont- gomery to%vnship, was Henry Wileman, an Irisliman by birth, and a man of many sterling qualities. He was the proprietor of a tract of 3000 acres granted him in 1700; the estate was located on the east bank of the Walkill, below the viDage of Walden. His Tiame appears on the records as a member of St. x\n- drew's church, as early as 1733. A church edifice consti-ucted of logs, that had been built on his land for the use of the society, was standing in 1775. Wileman was a free-Uver, noble, and generous to a fault. He built his log palace on the site where afterward stood the DuBois homestead, of Revolutionary fame. It was a beautiful location; the soil was fine, and the patentee of 3000 acres entertained right royally. His convivial propensities frequently carried him to excess, and, if tradition is to be credited, the revelries in the Wileman log house were notorious thiough the country round. In process of time Henry Wileman died, and it was meet that he should be buried as became a patentee of 3000 acres. It does not appear that he ever married; or that any relative had ever followed him to this distant clime. But the rich, when they die, never lack for mourners, or at least those who out- wardly affect great sorrow foi' their death. So it came to pass that the friends of Wileman arranged to have the burial take place with all the pomp and splendor and outward tokens of regard for his memory that should characterize the funeral solemnities of a great man, according to the notions and customs of those early times It was then the prevailing usage to furnish liquor on all such occasions. No funeral was complete witliout it. They would sooner think of doing with- out the sermon than without the rum. As Wileman died possessed of his thousands of acres, it would be a lasting disgrace to limit the supply of liquor when celebrating his obsequies. The cellar was stored with the choicest wines; what could be more appropriate, or what could better voice the public sorrow, than that these wines should be drawn forth and made to do duty in assisting in the giving of suitable honors to the memory of their late owner ! In short, the people, young and old, were urged to drink. If any were backward, they were chided for their lack of respect for the memory of the departed, whose obsequies they were then observing; and the wine was handed round when they could not well help themselves. At length the hour came in which the funeral cortege was to move from the late residence of the deceased to his place of sepulchre. This was before the day of black caparisoned steeds and heavily draped catafalques. The pro- cession was more primitive in its make-up. All being ready, the bearers of the The Dubois IIoDicstcad. 71 remains of the deceased, the bier carriers, mourners, friends and neighbors in attendance, started on foot to the Httle l)urial-i)lace behind the log clunrli, where the open grave awaited its tenant. But the people had undertaken a greater task than they could accomplish. Overcome by the intensity of their sorrow, or by their too frequent and lung- continued libations of the contents of the wine-cellar, the friends, mourners, and finally the bearers, one by one fell out by the way, either to sink insensible into the highway, or to make their way homeward as best they could. In short, the corpse was let down in the road before they had proceeded half way to the grave, and there abandoned. Among that number there was one sober enough to realize that the deatl ought not to be left unburied, and that it savored too nmch of irreverence to leave the cori)se unattended in the middle of the load. To convey the remains to the churchyard by his own unaided strength was simply imi)ossil)le; it was no less impracticable to carry the coffin back to the house, and await a more favorable opportunity to complete the burial. Here was a quandary that would have puzzled the brain even of a soberer man. At last he hit upon a way out of the difficulty, and put the plan into immediate execution. He procured a shovel, and proceeded to dig a grave in the road by the side of the coffin; when he had dug to a sufficient depth In; rolled the c-offin over into it, and there cov- ered up the mortal remains of the free and noble-hearted Irishman, the patentee of 8000 acres. ^Vith no monument to mark his last resting-place, this was all the sepulchre that was accorded him for many a long year. B}' an alteration in the road the grave was thrown into an adjoining field; and when "Mr. Peter Xeaffie afterward excavated a cellar for a dwelling, he unex- pectedly came upon the coffin and bones of Henry Wileman, and gave them a respectable burial. The farm on which these occurrences took place was the property, at the time of the Revolution, of Peter DuBois, a British Tory and a refugee. In 17S2 it was occupied by a detacliment of the American army from the cantonment at New Windsor, sent here to protect some government property. One cold, stormy night, late in October of that year, John INIcLean, after- ward Commissary General of Xew York for a number of years, was sent from this encampment with papers for the Commander-in-Chief at Newburgh. At a point in the Shawangunk road where it crosses the Stony brook, McLean was waylaid, seized, taken from his horse, gagged, tied to a tree, and the papers re- moved from his custody. In this position he was left by the robbers to the chances of liberation by a possible traveler. He was relieved from his uncom- fortable position early the next morning by a horseman who chanced that way, but he nearly [)erislied from cold during the night. This accident, by bringing bim into notice, contributed not a little to his subsequent ])olitical preferment. His horse was never recovered, but the government remunerated him for his loss. It is beheved the marauders were some of the notorious gang of Claudius Smith. 72 Legends of the Shawangunk. MASSACRE AT FANTINEKILL. THE following incidents occurred (says the Bevier pamphlet) in the midst of a settlement of the descendants of the French Huguenots, and bring to view the. distinguishing traits of that people. They were bold, persevering and resolute, and were firm believers in the doctrine of a particular Providence, which they did not forget to invoke in every time of need. The three families, to whom this narrative especially relates, lived at Fantinekill, near to each other, and about three-fourths of a mile northeast of EllenviUe. A young negro, known as Robert,- Uved at Widow Isaac Bevier's. He heard an unusual tramping around the house, just at the dawn of day, like that of horses. He got up and hstened, and fomid that the noise was made by In- dians. He opened the door, and stepping back for a little start, jumped out and ran. In his flight he received a wound on his head from a tomahawk, and a baU was fired through the elbow^ of his roundabout, but did not hurt him. The Indians sang out in their own tongues, " Run, you black! run, you black I" It does not appear that he was pursued by them. He made his escape over the lowland to Napanock, stopping by the way at a stack to staunch the blood that was flowing profusely from his wound. The Indians immediately commenced the attack; the widow's sons were both killed, the house was set on fire, and the women driven into the cellar. The daughter Magdalene took the Dutch family Bible with her. When the flames reached them there, they chose rather to deliver themselves up to £he savages than to suffer a horrible death by fire. They made their way through the cellar window, the mother in advance. The Indians were ready to receive their unfortunate and unoffending victims. What tongue can describe the feelings of mother and daughter at that moment ? Sentence was immediately pronounced against the mother— death by the ruth- less tomahawk— whilst the daughter was detained as a prisoner. It is said that a young Indian brave took a sudden fancy for her, and interposed in her behalf. The afflicted girl, as soon as she knew the decision of their captors, threw^ aii apron over her head so as not to see her mother killed ! All this while she had retained the Dutch Bible in her arms; this was now wrested from her and stamped in the mud. When the Indians left the place they took her a short distance into the woods, and sent her back with a war -club, and a letter written by the Tories to Capt. Andrew Bevier, at Napanock. In the letter the Tories invited the old Captain to dine wdth them next day at Lackawack. There was an allusion in it to the club— that so they meant to serve him. This club was stained with fresh blood, and adhering to it were some locks of human hair. On the girl's return she re- covered her invaluable treasure— her Dutch Bil)le; some of the leaves were Massacre at /•aulinckill 73 soiled by thr mud, but not materially. It is still preserved as a in-ecious relic in tbe family of her relatives. Tliis widow Bevier had a daughter by the name of Catlierine, that had been lately married to Abrani Jansen, whose father lived about four miles southwest of Fantinekill, .The elder Jansen Was strongly suspected of being a Tory, ;iiid of communicating with and assisting the Indians, the following being some of the riivumstances on which this suspicion rested: 1. Jlis }>remises, altliough oji the outposts and unguarded, were not molested. 1'. The prints of Indian moccasins were seen about his house. ?^. His daughter, who was at a neigh- bor's house, was importuned to return home the night before Fantinekill was burned, -t. It was so managed that his daughter-in-law was absent from her mother's house on a visit to Jacob Bevier's at Xapanock. n. By the death of his daughter-in-law's family, his son fell heir to the estate at Fantinekill. The family of Michael Sock were all killed. As none survived to tell the tale, no i)articulars can be given here. There were a father, a mother, two grown-up sons and two small children in the household. A young man, either a Sock or a Bevier, had iim some distance from the house into a })iece of l)lowed ground, where a desperate contest had evidently taken place between him and an Indian. A large space had been trodden down, and the scalped and mangled corpse of the young man lay ui)on it — ^he had several wounds from a tomahawk on his arms. A few^ days before there had been a training day at Xapanock, and this same young man had loudly boasted that he was not afraid of Indians. At the house of Jesse Bevier, the savages and their accompanying Tories met with a warm i-eception. The first salute that Uncle Jesse received was when the l)locks in the window w-ere stove in, and two or three balls were fired just above his head as he lay in bed. He sprang up and seized an axe, with which he prevented them from entering the window, at the same time calling to his sons David and John, who immediately responded. A desperate action ensued, for this family were all famous marksmen. This was especially true of David, who had some choice powder for his own use, which his mother brought for%vard in the course of the conflict. He declined to use it, saying that common powder was good enougli to shoot Indians with. They had the i)Owder loose in basins on a ^able for the sake of convenience, and measured the charges in their hands. The women assisted in loading, it l)eing connnon to have a double stock of arms. But the enemy approached from a })oijit against which this little band of Huguenot heroes could not bring their guns to bear, and found means to set fire to the old log house. Their situation now became critical. Every drop of licjuid in the house was api)lied to retard the progress of the flames. The women took milk, and even swill, in their mouths and forced it through the cracks of the logs, hoping in this way to protract their existence until relief could come from Napanock. At this aNN'ful crisis, when death in its most awful form was staring them in the face, that pious mother ])i-o])osed that they should susjiend hostilities and 74 Legends of the Shawangtuik. unite in petitions to the throne of grace for help David rephed that " she must do the praying while they continued to fight." So that mother prayed, and the prayer was answered in an unexj)ected manner. In the course of the morning, after the battle commenced at Fantinekill, Jesse Bevier's dog, without any sign or motion from his master, nor having been trained to any thing of the kind, ran to Napanock, to the house of Lewis Bevier, his master's brother. He approached Lewis, and jumping up against his breast looked him in the face, then ran to the gate which led to his master's, looking back to see if he was coming; this he did several times. Lewis could distinctly hear the firing at Fantinekill, and could easily divine what was going on. So, taking his arms, he hastened to the house of a neighbor, and told him the dog had come to call him, and that he was resolved to go to his brother's relief, although the Indians wei-e expected there every minute, and it was almost certain death to go alone, yet "it was too much for flesh and blood to stand." Standing by, in hearing of the conversation, was the neighbor's son, Con- radt, a stalwart youth who was extremely fleet of foot, and who boasted that no Indian could outrun him. This young man's patriotism was kindled by the remarks of Lewis, and volunteering his services, the two set out over the low- lands for Fantinekill. When they came near, the Indian sentry on the hill fired an alarm. The Indians and Tories, not knowing how large a company was coming, immediately withdrew from the vicinity of the house and the two men rushed in. The flames at this moment had extended to the curtains of the bed. The door was now thrown open, and the women rushed down the hill to the spring after water, while the men stood at the door with guns to protect them. Among the women who went to the spring was Jesse Bevier's daughter, Catherine. While at the spring she heard the groans of the dying in the swampy grounds near by. Among them she i-ecognized some Tories — she could distinguish them by their striped pantaloons, and by the streaks which the sweat made in their painted faces. The fire was happily extinguished, and this family saved from an awful catastrophe. Colonel Cortland's regiment had been lying in the vicinity of Napanock for some time preceding this event, but their time of service had expired a few days before the attack on Fantinekill; and it is supposed that the Tories had made this fact known to the Indians. But the soldiers, having received some money, had got into a frolic at a tavern at Wawarsing, and were there on the morning of the alarm. They were mustered with all ])ossible speed, and when they came to Napanock, were joined by Capt. Andries Bevier's company, and the united forces marched to the scene of action. When they came to the Napanock creek, the Indian yells and war-whoops were heard on the western hills, and the savages fired upon them as they were crossing the stream, and continued to fire upon them as they passed on toward Fantinekill. Their fire was returned by the regiment, but it is not known that any loss was sustained Massacre at Faiitiuckill. 75 on either side at this stage of the action. The Indians hore off west, setting fire to the woods as they went to avoid i)ursnit. When the war-whoop was heard on the hills west of Napanock, and the soldiers were seen leaving the place to go to Fantinekill, the women, children, and invalids made a preciintate flight to the Shawangunk mountain, ex'iHX'ting the Indians would enter Napanock and burn the place, which they could have done with ease. Two sons of Andries Bevier, aged twelve and fourteen, ran across the mountain, through the burnt woods, barefooted, a distance not less than five miles. They first came to the residence of a ]\Tr. Manse, on the east side of the mountain, then passed on to Shawangunk village, and gave the alarm. Several members of Jacob Bevier's family also made their way through the woods; but some of the neighbors missed their way, got lost, and were all night in the mountain, which was full of people from both sides, A\ith horns, looking for them. The small children, and those of the inhabitants that were feeble and infirm, went only to the base of the declivity, and secreted them- selves among the scraggy rocks, especially along the sides of a noted defile known as ' ' Louis Ravine. ' ' In their flight they were joined by the young black, Robert, who escaped from Fantinekill. In fording the Rondout creek, a child of Andrew Bevier came near being swept down \\\Wi the current. He was caught by a friendly hand and helped ashore. When they arrived at the foot of the mountain an invalid soldier climbed a tree to see if Napanock was on fire. When he heard the sound of musketry he said he could distinguish the firing of Cortland's regiment from that of the Indians, because the former " fired by platoons." Towards night the men came to look for their families; but the women and children who were in hiding, apprehending they might be Tories, gave no heed to their calls until they were certain they were friends. jMr. Jacob Bevier, of Napanock, was sick and uiiable to be moved. All the family had fled across the mountain except an insane brother, who was sitting on the fence unconscious of his danger, and a daughter who had resolved to remain with her father. Jacob expostulated with her, saying that if the Indians came, she could not save him, and in that case both must ine^itably fall Ix'fore the tomahawk and scalping-kiiife. Every feeling of humanity and affection I'ose in opposition to the disinterested exhortations of a tender father; but his sound reasoning and the instinct of self-preservation at length pre- vailed, and she made her way for Old Shawangimk, and being more fortunate in finding the path, she arrived first at the i)lace of destination. The noble conduct of Capt. Kortright on this occasion is worthy of record. As soon as he heard of the affair at Fantinekill, without aAvaiting orders from his superior officer, he directed his sergeant to order out his company, in all about seventy men, armed and equipped, with })rovisions for two days, and to report at his house next morning at daylight. The summons was promptly obeyed, and the comi)any Avas marched to Grahamsville \\\\\v a A^iew of inter- cepting the Indians on their return from Fantinekill. He selected a suitable 76 Legends of the ShawangU7ik. place, arranged his men in oider, and awaited the arrival of the Indians. But, as usual, the savages discovered him first; and instead of coming by the usual route, they passed by in the rear of his men. The first intimation that Kort- right had of the presence of the Indians was a volley delivered into his midst from an unseen enemy. One rifle ball struck within six inches of the old Captain's head; but the savages kept at a safe distance, knowing they had an old Indian fighter to grapple with. One of the soldiers named Johannis Vernooey declared that he was hit b}'' a ball. The others, thinking it was only the result of fright, sang out, " Where has it hit you, Honsum ? Where has it hit you, Honsum ? " At last it was discovered that the strap which held the buckle to his knee was actually cut off by a bullet. The Indians soon made their way off, filling the woods with their yeUs and war-whoops, without once coming into view. As an eye-witness of the affair expressed himself, " You can't see an Indian in the woods." Bevier affirms that six of the persons who perished at Fantinekill were buried in one grave near the place where they lived and died. The loss of the enemy is not known. The only house that stood where the village of Ellenville is now located, was burned. It was owned by John Bodley, and its occupants had a narrow escape. They, in common with other families scattered along the valley, fled to the mountain and secreted themselves. BURNING OF WAWARSING. THIS last attempt of the savages, under the command and by direction of British authority, to exterminate the inhabitants of this frontier, occurred on the 12th of August, 1781, and was the most extensive invasion since the commencement of the war. This expedition was fitted out at one of the northern British posts, and put under the command of a white man Ijy the name of Caldwell, with explicit directions to commence his assault at Captain Andrew Bevier's at Napanock; and to kill or capture all the inhabitants, and destroy or carry off all the property along the Kingston road to the half-way house kept by the Widow Hasbroucl^. twelve miles northeast of Napanock - " if he thought he could get back alive.'* Caldwell was told if he did not carry out his instructions, he should be tried for his life on his return. Such is the language of the Bevier pamphlet. These allegations, were they not backed by testimony rrot to be controverted, would appear to be the creation of sonre fer- tile brain to vivify a page of fiction. We leave for other hands the task of attempting to excuse or palliate the crinre of , authorizing the slaughter of help- less women and children, for a crime it was, though sanctioned b}^ the Crown of England. It may be well here to state that it was the practice along the frontiers to keep out spies or scouts on the side exposed to savage inroads, who were to Burjiiitg of Jl d'cL'arsnio: I I iiatrol the woods and give notice to the settlements in order that they might not be taken by sui-prise. Philip Hine was one of those chosen to perform this duty. In providing himself with a supi)ly of i)rovisions, he had occasion to l)urchase some meat of Jeremiah Kettle, who resided in the vicinity of Newtown. Kettle made particular inquiries of Mr. Hine as to where he was going, the nature of his business, and the purpose for which he wanted the meat, to which the latter made honest replies, not suspecting his interlocutor was a Tory, who would find means of commmiicating the information to the Indians. Hine, accompanied by another spy named Silas Bouck, started on his migratory errand. When they reached the Neversink river, twenty miles or more southwest of Xapanock, they discovered a body of four or five hundred Indians and Tories, evidently bound on an expedition against some of the fron- tier settlements. The scouts watched their progress secretly until certain that their place of destination was Wawarsing; they then took a circuitous route, and struck the road far in advance of the point where they had seen the enemy. The Indians had been apprised by the Tory, Kettle, that spies were out, and were on the alert. Discovering some footmarks where Hine and his companion had crossed a stream of water, nmners were immediately sent in pursuit, who over- took them within half an hour after the latter had entered the road. But there seems to have been a providence in this apparent misfortune, and the perfidi ousness of Jeremiah Kettle was made the means of saving many precious lives. The prisoners were required under pain of death to give a correct account of the fortifications and other means of defense along the frontier. Among other things they informed their captoi-s that there was a cannon at Capt. Bevier's, in Napanock. On account of this intelligence the enemy did not cany out their instructions and commence their attack at that i)lace. Some of the Indians had probably witnessed the destructive power of grai)eshot and cannon- balls in the w^ar of 1755, and had a w^holesome fear of that engine of destruc- tion. But they would not have been injured in this case, for the old cannon lay on the w^oodpile without a carriage, and was useless for purposes of defense. Nevertheless the dismantled field-piece intimidated an enemy five hundred sti'ong, and saved Napanock from attack. The inhabitants of Napanock never lost sight of their gratitude to that old cannon. It was given a carriage, and restored to a condition becoming an "arm of war." After peace was declared, at each recurring Independence Day, the old nine-pounder was brought out where its presence was sure to evoke great enthusiasm, and patriotic hearts beat faster as they voted it the position of honor in the procession. Blooming maidens crowned it witli "SNTeaths, as did their daughters for successive generations after them. Fourtli of July orations bestowed upon it the meed of unbounded praise. And often as the sterling patriots met to live over again in memory the struggle of the Eevolution, and to march to the sound of fife and drum, arcund tlie Uberty pole on the hill at Capt. Simon Be^^er's, amid the strains of martial music was heard the roar of the ancient nine-pounder, multiplied into a score of voices in yS Legends of the Sliazvangunk. the echoes that were hurled back from the sides of old Shawangunk, as though the grim old mountain itself had joined in soundiug the paeans of liberty. After the captors of Hine and Bouck had obtained all the information they wished, the prisoners weie taken apait fiom each other, tied to trees, and left in that situation until the Indians returned. Here they were compelled to remain for the most part of three days and nights, without anything to eat or drink, and liable to attack in their defenseless condition from wild beasts. In addition to their physical sufferings were added their well-founded apprehen- sions that their Avives and children would fall a prey to the scalping-knife, and also that they themselves nn'ght meet with a like fate if the enemy were in an irritable mood on their return. It had been the intention of the enemy to detach one hundred of their number, under the command of Shanks Ben, who were to proceed through the forest from the Delaware river to Newtown, to commence the work of death there, and meet their comrades at some place in the valley of the Eondout. But by an accident which occurred in drying some damaged powder, several of their number were burned, among them Shanks Ben, so that he was unable to enter upon that service. It is said they made the proposition to Silas Bouck that if he would perform that duty, they would grant him his liberty the moment he came to Newtown; but the noble-hearted patriot rejected the pro- posal with disdain ! After securing their prisoners, as above stated, the enemy set forward. On that ever- memorable Sabbath, the 12th of August, ITSl, at the dawn of the morning, they arrived at the old stone fort at Wawarsing, which was situated near the old church. Having taken the spies, no notice had been received at the fort of their approach, and most of its occupants were yet in their beds. Two men had gone out of the fort that morning,— Mr. Johannis Hornbeck and a colored man named Flink. Catherine Vernooey was also about leaving the fort to go and milk, when she saw the Indians coming. She returned to the fort, closed the door, and called Chambers to assist her in getting the huge brace against it. Chambers was stationed on the sentry box at the time, but being somewhat deranged, he did not fire his gun. Fortunately, however, he sung out " vyand, vyand, " — enemy, enemy. No sooner had the door been secured than the Indians came against it with all their might, in order to burst it in. Had not the door been secured at that instant, the enemy would inevit- ably have gained admittance to the fort, and the fate of its inmates would then have been sealed The negro, Flink, soon discovered the Indians approaching the fort. He concealed himself until he saw they did not obtain an entrance; then leaving his milk-pail, he made his way with all possible speed to Napanock, to apprise the people there of the arrival of the enemy. Mr. Hornbeck, the other indi vidual who had left the fort, was on his way to see his corn-field, and heard the alarm when about a mile away. Being a large fleshy man, unable to travel fast on foot, he caught a horse and rode with all speed to Eochester. When J) It I'm no of H'awai'sing. 79 lie arrived there, so overcome was he hy excitement and fatigue, that ne fell upon the floo^- as one dead. He recovered sufficiently to he ahle to retiuii home in the afternoon in company with the troops that were sent in pursuit of the Indians. The stone fort at Wawarsing was now the scene of active opei-ations. The men leaped excitedly from their beds, and, without much regard to dress, seized their guns, which were always at hand, and commenced the defense. John Griffin was the first who fired, the shot bringing one of the sons of the forest to the ground. Another Indian came to remove his fallen comrade, and just as he stooped over, Cornelius Yernooey gave him a charge of duck-shot that he had intended for a wild duck that came in his mill-pond. The other savages hurried them away, and it is probable that both of them were killed. The Indians did not fancy the reception they met with here, so they dispersed to the more defenseless parts of the neighborhood, to plunder and fire the buildings. Peter Yernooey lived about one-fourth of a mile south-east of the fort. The Indians made an attack upon his house, but were bravely repulsed l)y the garrison, which consisted of three men. On the first advance of the Indians, Yernooey shot one from a window in the south-east side of the house. One of the men went into the garret, and discovered some savages behind a ledge of rocks to the north-east of the dwelling, watching for an opportunity to fire when any one came before the port-holes. While he was preparing to shoot at them, he saw the flash of their priming — he drew his head back suddenly, and a ball just grazed his face. An old hat hanging up in the garret, which the Indians supposed contained a man's head, was found to be full of bullet-holes. The conduct of the women of this household was worthy the daughters of liberty. It appears there were three — Mrs. Peter Yernooey, and two of her relatives from I^ackawack, One of them loaded the guns for the men, while the others stood with axes to guard the windows, which were fortified with blocks of hard wood, Mrs. Yernooey had a family of small children. They were lying in a bunk, and became very uproarious at the unusual proceedings about them ; but the heroic matron addressed them in language so decided and unequivocal that they instantly became quiet. At Cornelius Be^'ier's the enemy found none to oppose them. They entered the house, built a fii-e on the floor with some of the furniture, and then left the premises, taking along a colored woman and two deformed colored boys a short distance, until they supposed the flames had olttained sufficient headway, when they let them return home. The Avoman and boys went to work and succeeded in saving the house. At no time did the Indians appear to wish to kill the l)lacks. This was probably because they were slaves, and no bounty was paid by the British for their scalps. The Indians regarded the negroes as belonging to a race inferior to themselves. Tin? next assault was made at Cornelius Dcpuy's, where a few neighbors were assembled, as the custom was, for mutual safety and defense. The enemy advanced from the hills south-east of the house. The person acting as com- 8o Legends of tke Shaivangiiiik. maiider of this little garrison gave the order not to fire until the Indians came quite near; but a lad of sixteen was too full of enthusiasm and patriotic fire to await the word of command. He had his old Holland gun well primed, which he leveled at one of the redskins, and brought him to the ground at the first, discharge. The enemy thereupon fled. A few shots were sent after them, with what effect is not known. The enemy made their next attack at the stone house of John Kettle, in the defense of which the noble conduct of Captain Gerard Hardenburgh is deserving of particular notice. At the time of the alarm Capt. Hardenburgh was at the house of a relative one mile east of Kettle's with six of his men. Notwithstanding the risk, he determined to go to the relief of his countrymen. When he came in sight of Kettle's he saw a number of Indians in advance in the road. To offer battle with his insignificant force in the open field, would be an act of madness. There was no time to be lost, however, and all depended on the decision of the moment. His active and fertile mind instantly devised a stratagem that suited his purpose to perfection. He turned aside into the woods with his little band of heroes, so that their number could not be observed by the enemy, took off his hat, shouted with all his might, and advanced towards Kettle's house. The Indians did not know what to make of this maneuvre. It might mean that a company of Tories had come from Newtown to their assistance, and it might be that troops were marching up from Pine Bush to the relief of the settlement; the savages took the safe course and skulked in every direction. This gave the Captain time to reach the house. At that moment the Indians, who had discovered the ruse, poured a shower of bullets at them; but the brave heroes escaped unhurt. The besieged broke holes through the rear of the house with an axe, and also through the roof, for port-holes, through which they poured an effective fire upon their assailants. Hardenburgh found the house occupied by three soldiers and a son of John Kettle. The Indians made repeated assaults in force on this fortress, but were as often driven back with loss. Thirteen of their number were left dead on the field. John Kettle was at Hei'honkson at the time of the attack. Jacobus Bruyn had removed with his family over the Shawangunk mountain through fear of the Indians, and Kettle had gone up to Bruyn's premises to see that all was well. He started to go to the fort at Pine Bush, but was met in the road by an advance-guard of the savages, and shot. His was not the only scalp tlie Indians secured in this expedition. While these events were transpiring at Wawarsing, the forts at Napanock and Pine Bush were the scenes of intense interest and suspense. When the firing ceased for a moment, the affrighted inhabitants were ready to conclude that the beleaguered garrison had been overpowered, and that the savages were engaged in mangling and scalping the bodies of their friends and brethren. Then again would be heard the report of one of the Holland guns, which could be plainly distinguished from the sharp crack of the light arms of the Indians, Burning of JJ^tucars/ng. 8i tt'lling that the patriots yet lived, and were waging a heroic defense for their homes. The rattle of musketry in the first attack on Wawarsing was heartl at Pine Bush; and as it was unlawful to fire a gun on the Sahhath, except in self-defense, or as an alarm, it was known that the place was attacked. Alarm guns were immediately fired at Pine Bush, at ]\Iillliook, and so along the frontier towards Kingston. Colonel John Cantine, of Marhletown, was then first in conmiand at Pine Bush. Capt. Burnet, of Little Britain, and Capt, Benjamin Kortright, of Rochester — both brave and resolute officers— had their companies ready at an early hour, anxious to proceed to the scene of conflict; but Colonel Cantine made no move to that effect. When the flames of the burning buildings were seen ascending in the lower part of Wawarsing, the captains addressed him as follows: — " How can you remain here, when, in all probability, the Indians are murdering our friends at Wawarsing?'' There, and not till then, did he i)ut the troojjs in motion to go to their relief. He sent a guard in advance; and when they amved at the site of the Middleport school-house, the guard returned and told the Colonel that the Indians were at Herhonkson. Cantine immediately wheeled about, and with a few others, marched back to the fort. Cai)tains Burnet and Kortright advanced with their companies to the summit of the hill, south-west of the school-house, in order to confront the enemy if they should advance, at the same time making the greatest possible show of num- bers by deploying their men along the brow of the hill, then wheeling suddenly and marching again to the sunnuit, where they might be seen by the enemy. The Indians not making their appearance, and apprehensive that they might take a circuitous route and pass them unnoticed, Burnet and Kortriglit I'eturned to Pine Bush. At their suggestion Colonel Cantine ordered out a guard some distance from the fort on each side to watch the movements of the enemy and protect the women and children below the fort. As already stated, the negro Fhnk escaped from the Wawareing fort as the Indians attacked the place, and ran with aU speed to Napanock. Capt. Pierson was in command at that place; and although suffering from indisposition, he left his bed, stepped out in front of the fort, and called for volunteers. He said he did not want a man to go that would not face the enemy, and fight like a hero. He was solicited by the women and others to remain for their jirotection, but he replied that he was bound by his official oath to go where the enemy was. Conradt Bevier and Jacobus DeWitt, and some ten or twelve othei*s, tendered their services, and the httle ])and set forward. When they came to the school-house, half a mile from the fort at Xapanock. they found it in tiames — no doubt fired by the Indians. They earned water in their hats and saved the building. They then cautiously advanced over the lowland until they came in sight of Wawarsing. At this time, an Indian sentinel who had been stationed on a hill to give notice of the arrival of reinforcements to the ganison, fired off his gim, which caused the Indians to withdraw farther from tlie fort. Those within now made signals for Captain Pierson and his men to approach 6 82 Lege7tds of the Shawangunk. and enter. To do this the relief party were obliged to pass over an open space exposed to the shots of the enemy; but the undertaking was accomplished in perfect safety. Encouraged by this addition to their numbers, the besieged came out, and fought the Indians from beliind trees, buildings, and whatever objects afforded protection, after the Indian fashion. In the meantime the Indians entered the church, and amused themselves by throwing their tomahawk at the numbers, which, according to the castom of the times, were placed on the panels of the pulpit to designate the psalm or hymn to be sung. These figures served as targets to throw at. With such force were the missiles sent that two or three tomahawks were driven entirely through the panels. This injury was never repaired, but w^as suffered to remain as a memorial of the past. Two Indians were standing in the church-door, and Wm. Bodly and Conradt Bevier crept along the f.ence in the bush to get a shot at them. Bevier leveled his piece and pulled the trigger, but it unfortunately snapped. The Indian looked around as though he heard it. Bevier made a second attempt, and again it snapped. Bodly then fired, and both ran for the fort about one-fourth of a mile away. The Indians sent some shots after them, one of the balls cutting a limb from an apple-tree under which Bevier w^as passing. Bodly's shot struck in the door-post, just grazing the crowai of the Indian's head. Long after the war a man by the name of DeWitt was in the w^estern part of New York and spoke with the Indian who met with so narrow an escape at the church-door. The Indian, on learning that DeWitt was from Wawarsing, enquired if he knew who it w^as that shot at him while standing in the church-door. DeWitt told him it was William Bodly. The Indian answered—" It w^as a good shot. If I ever meet that man I will treat him well." This incident illustrates a trait in the character of a " warrior.'' Towards noon, when most of the Indians were in the lower part of th-^ town, Cornehus Bevier went to water his cattle, accompanied by Jacobus DeWitt. They had ascended the hill toward the old burying-ground, when they discovered tw^o Indians w^alking directly from them in Indian file. Bevier thought he could shoot them both at once, but just as he got ready to fire, one of them stepped aside. He shot one of the Indians and then both men ran for the fort. In passing under an apple-tree, DeWitt stumbled and fell; just at the instant a shot from the surviving Indian passed over his head. DeWitt ever afterward felt he owed his escape to an interposition of Providence. The Indian's body was subsequently found near the place- He had put on new moccasins and other extra apparel during the period intervening between the time of his receiving the fatal wound and the moment of his death, as though preparing himself for the final change that was to transport him to the happy hunting-grounds . The people at the fort saw an Indian going with a firebrand to set fire to a dwelling-house occupied by some of the Hornbeck family. Benjamin Hornbeck loaded one of the long Holland guns, and tried the effect of a shot upon the miscreant. The ball struck a stone on the hill, and bounded against the Indian Biirniiif^ of Waioarsiiig. 8 o who ininiediately dropped the firebrand, gave a tremendous leap, and ran like a deer for the woods. This single shot was the means of saving that house from the general conflagration of that eventful day. The old neighborhood of Wawarsiiig on that Sabbath morning must have been a scene of sublime grandeur. Thirteen substantial dwelUng-houses, with their outbuildings, fourteen barns with barracks, stacks of hay and grain, and one grist-mill, were all enveloped in flames— no one being able to offer any resistance to their raging fury. The houses were stored with the articles requisite for the comforts and conveniences of civiUzed life — the products of the industry of many years; and the bai-ns had just been filled with a plenteous harvest. The Indians remained all that day in the vicinity, i)illaging the houses, driving off the stock, and securing whatever plunder they thought would be of service to them. Between sixty and seventy horses, most of them very fine, and a great number of cattle, sheep and hogs, were driven off. The Indians took some ground plaster as far as Grahamsville, supposing it to be flour, and attempted to make bread of it. At Esquire Hardenburgh's they fared sumptu- ously. They took some huckleberry pies, of which there was a goodly stock on hand, l)roke them up in tubs of sweet milk, and then devoured them. Had not the Indians devoted so much of their attention to plunder, they might have secured more scalps. Some of the inhabitants who had concealed themselves in the bushes along the fences, met with narrow escapes when the Indians came to drive the cattle from the fields; they threw little sticks and stones to drive the animals away from their places of concealment. When the Indians were preparing to leave the place a personage of no ordinary rank and pretension was seen emerging from the woods into the high- way near the old church. His appearance was truly imjtosing. He was mounted on a superb horse that had been stolen from Esquire Hardenburgh, and was arrayed in gorgeous apparel, according to Indian notions. He had silver bands about liis arms, and over forty silver brooches were suspended about the i)erson of his majesty. He was discovered by some soldiers who were watching to get a parting shot at the enemy as they were leaving the town, and one of them named Mack fired upon the chief. The latter was seen to reel in his saddle, but some other Indians turned his horse into the woods, and he was lost to view for a time. Afterwards Cornelius found his cori)se in the woods near the place where he was shot, witli the ornaments and trinkets still upon him. It is i)rol)able that the loss of this chief did much to intimidate the In- dians and hasten their retreat. In tlie coui'se of Sunday afternoon, Capt. Pawling came u}) with some State troops from Hurley in time to relieve some of the inhabitants. There was a cabin in the woods situated in advance of the others, in which lived a man and his wife. At the first ai)pearance of the foe, they fled into their castle, and gave battle to a party of savages who came up to attack them. The house was well supplied with arms, and while his wife loaded the guns he poured such a destnictive fire into the midst of his fues, that they soon recoiled with loss. 84 Legends of the Shawangunk. Baffled in their attempts to force an entrance, they collected a lieap of combus- tibles and set fire to the premises. The savages then retired a short distance to watch the result. The man ran out with a couple of buckets, procured water, and with it extinguished the flames. The Indians ran down upon him, but not being quick enough to prevent his gaining the door, they hurled their toma- hawks at his head — happily without effect. Pawling's force being augmented by Col. Cantine's troops of Rochester and those of the garrison at Wawarsing, the little army amounted to about four hundred men. They lodged at the Wawarsing stone fort Sunday night and early the next morning set out in pursuit of the enemy. When they came to Grahanisville they saw where the Indians had lodged the night before, and where they had attempted to make bread out of ground plaster. Towards night the pursuers arrived at Peenpack, along the Delaware, when the advance-guard returned and informed the officers that they had come to a fire of small sticks, and that the sticks were not burned through This was evidence that the Indians could not be far in advance. It having been pro- posed to double the advance-guard, Captain Kortright offered to go with his whole company. While a consultation was going on among the officers, a gun in the hands of Dr. Vanderlyn, of Kingston, was discharged. The report alarmed the enemy; the Indians of the party instantly fled in small squads, leaving their white commander Caldwell alone with the Tories and the scouts, Hine and Bouck, whom they had released on their return march and were con- ducting to Niagara. At this place large packages of spoils, including quantities of clothing, were left by the Indians in the confusion of their hasty flight; but they were not found by the whites until several months afterwards. A council of war was held to determine whether to advance or retreat, at which it was resolved to give up the pursuit and return home. Capt. Hardenburgh and some othei'S were anxious to pursue, but Col. Cantine opposed it. Capt. Hardenburgh, vexed at what he considered Cantine's somewhat questionable prudence, observed to his Colonel that " he could not die before his time; " to which the latter repHed that if the Indians held a tomahawk above his head his time would be then and there. A German by the name of Vrooman deserted the Indians on Honk hill, while Wawarsing was in flames. He had been with them three years; and becoming tired of his allegiance, he left his gun at a distance and approached the troops, making signs of peace. Some of the soldiers wished to kill him, but this was not permitted. From this man much of the matter embraced in this narrative was obtained. Vrooman said the invading horde was a party from Niagara, and that they consumed more than a month on their journey to Wawarsing. During this time they were so much distressed for want of pro- visions that they ate up their pack-horses and dogs He reported that the garrison at Niagara was in a melancholy situation for want of provisions, and that the Tories there most bitterly execrated the day that they were deluded by a tyrant's emissaries to take up arms against their native country. It is said Burning of Wawarsing. 85 that the efficiency of the Indians at the descent upon Wawarsing was greatly impaired by reason of their previous privations, and from eating the soft corn they had taken from the corn-fields at Wawarsing. The squaws met them, on their return to Niagara, with parched corn. The commander of the expedition, Caldwell, was now in a sore strait. He had failed in the main object of his expedition — the taking of prisoners and scalps. He was forsaken by his Indian guides, while hundreds of miles of trackless forest intervened between him and his base of suppUes; and he was menaced by a foe greatly outnumbering his own force who were close at his heels, exasperated beyond measure at his work of devastation, and anxious to wreak vengeance upon the destroyer of their homes. Had Cantine advanced instead of retreating, Caldwell's diminished forces would have fallen an easy jDrey, and a large portion of the spoils would have been recovered. Caldwell was now in a measure dependent upon the magnanimity of the scouts, Philip Hine and Silas Bouck. The latter agreed to pilot the party through to Niagara on condition that CaldweU would do all in his power to save him from running the gauntlet when they arrived at the fort. When they reached that post, Hine proi)osed allegiance to the British Cro^\^l; and was per- mitted to have some liberty, and went on an expedition with the British troops against Troy. It does not appear that he participated in any engagement against the Americans. One tradition is that he came back after peace was restored; another says that he escaped under pretense of going on a hunting expedition. At all events he lived to return to his friends who had mourned him as dead. Silas Bouck, his brother scout, was taken to Montreal, put into a log jail, in company with two other prisoners, and furnished with a scanty supply of pipvisions, even those being of the filthiest and meanest kind. In tliis extremity the three prisoners set about devising some means of escape. They succeeeded in raising up one of the boards of the floor, and with the help of an old knife dug a hole under the side of the building. In the day time they lay stiU; at night they dug, carefuUy concealing the dirt under the floor, and replacing the board before morning. Having some reason to apprehend the time of execution was at hand, and a dark night favoring, they made their exit through the sul)terraneous passage, and entered the St. Lawrence. Bouck was ahead. They had not gone far before one of his companions cried out that he was sinking. But no assistance could be afforded — each had work for him- self. When Hearing the opposite side a similar cry was heard from the other. Before reaching the shoi-e Bouck too began to grow weak, and he feared he should meet the fate of his companions. He thought he miglit touch the hot tom, but was afraid to try. At last he attempted and f(»und it was not beyond liis depth; and after reaching the beach he made his ^vay into the wilderness without knowing where he was going. At length morning came. The sun rose, and ])y that he shaped his course ^^'ith more certainty. Never were the benignant rays of that luminary more welcome to a traveler tliaii on this occasion. Soon hunger began to 86 Legends of the Shawangunk. torture Hint's already emaciated frame. He saw a rattlesnake in his path. Fortunately he had preserved his pocket-knife, with which he cut a crotched stick and put it over the neck of the snake, and then cut off its head. This snake he dressed and ate raw. This appeased the appetite for a while, when hunger again began to pinch him hard. As he was pursuing his journey he came in sight of a small house. He watched it closely, and ascertained that its occupants consisted of two persons only— a man and his wife. He resolved to wait until the man should leave the house, when he would rush in, kill the woman, get some provisions and be off. He did not have to wait long for the opportunity. The moment he entered the door the woman cried out — " You are a deserter ! " Some bread and meat lay on the table, which she told him to take and be off or he was a dead man; for there was a large body of Indians near by, and that her husband had gone to them. He took the bread and meat and fled with all haste into the woods, and crawled into a hollow log. He had been there but a short time when he heard the Indians traversing the forest in search of him. In the night he came out of the log, and resumed his journey. After enduring a degree of suffering seldom equalled, he arrived at Catskill, on the Hudson, about fourteen months after he was taken prisoner. The freemen of Rochester, Ulster county, were assembled at a public -house to transact some business of a patriotic nature. The long and bloody war with Great Britain was drawing to a happy termination, and every jDatriot's pulse beat high with the prospect of domestic peace and national glory. While in the midst of their rejoicing, a person was discovered in the distance having the appearance of a way-worn traveler. As the stranger approached some one hinted that his step was like the stride of Silas Bouck. They had long supposed him dead— still he might be alive. They were not long in suspense. The joy- ful news resounded through the assembly that Bouck was coming, and with one simultaneous rush they ran to meet him. They could scarcely believe the evidence of their own eyes. They caught him up, and carried him into the house, while the air resounded with their shouts of joy. It was a reunion such as is seldom witnessed. After the trials of a protracted and bloody war, they were now to enjoy, in common, the dearly bought boon of liberty. On the return of the Indians to Niagara it was ascertained that eighteen of their number were missing. One of the absent Indians, however, returned late in the fall, having driven a cow all the way, and lived on the milk. MOUNT HOPE MASTODON. Korti'ii^Jif s Expi'dilio7i. "^-j KORTRIGHT'S EXPEDITION. DrrJIXG the Revolution three iiu-n were hving, with their faniiHes, in the vicinity of Pine Bush, in the town of Rochester, named Shurker, Millei-, nnd Baker. Shurker had been suspected of being a Tory. A Whig neighbor had once intimated asmucli to liini, personally; but Shurker denied the charge, and made the strongest attestations of fidelity to the cause of libcrtv. This conversation was overheard l)y the Toiies, and l)y them connnunicated tooco<»ooooooooooooo^Boo30oqaoooooQoooo^>aoo, ^^J ' o ? 5 C3 o f^ 5o Captivity of ]\Irs. Coleman. ■ 97 horror and indignation knew no bounds; they pressed forward with the greater energy with the stern purpose of wreaking vengeance on the marauders. So rapidly did the}^ march that they traveled as far that day as the Indians did in a night and day, encuml)ered as they were with women and children; towards night they found they were close upon the savages. The latter became aware that they were pui'sued, while the captives were ignorant of the prox- imity of their friends. They were then probably on the " barrens " of one of the Delaware river towns. The Indians were not in a condition for a fight and were aware that their enemies outnumbered them; so they sought to escape by stratagem. The nature of the ground at this point being such tliat the horse's hoofs would leave no impression, they turned at right angles from the path and se- creted themselves, with the captives in a tliicket. This was the first intimation the prisoners had that succor was near; but they were informed they would suffer instant death if they made the least noise. Presently they heard the sounds of their friends following in the path they had just left. Nearer and nearer they came, until the individual voices of their neighl)ors could be distin- guished. But the i)Oor children and their mothers did not dare even to look in the direction from whence the sounds came, for a savage stood over each of the trembling and anxious captives with a weapon upraised, ready to deal the fatal blow if an alarm was made. Would that a kind Providence might interpose, and i^revent their i)assing on without discovering tliat the path had been aban- doned. Now that help was so near, the hearts of the poor captives were well- nigh bursting at the suspense. They could hardly suppress a cry that they knew would bring their friends instantly to their side; but they knew it was in the power of the savages to strike every captive dead before relief could come. Gradually the voices grew more and more indistinct, then entirely ceased, and hope gradually died in the breasts of the piisoners, for the chance of Hberation had ])assed. After the whites had gone by, Mrs. Coleman, for the first time, was taken from the horse, on which she had been tied for twenty-four hours. The party remained in their place of concealment until the next morning; then the feeble and bereaved mother was again placed in her former position, and the journey resumed. From Sunday afternoon until Tuesday forenoon the party did n(^t i>artake of a morsel of food. The Indians had brought no provision with them, and were afraid to fire their guns, fearing to expose their i)osition to the whites. Before noon on Tuesday a deer was shot, and their appetite ai)[)eased. During their flight they came successively to the Neversilik and the Delaware rivers; m crossing these streams the Indians would drive the horse, ^^^th Mrs, Coleman on his back, in advance of the others, to measure the dei)th. But the grief of the poor woman at the death of her husband and child, her anxiety for her remaming children and her present fatigue and sufiferings, rendered her in a measure insensible to the danger of being submerged. 98 Legends of the Sliaiuangun/c. On Thursday evening they arrived at an Indian village some fifty miles beyond the Delaware river. Their journey over mountains, and through the trackless woods was terminated, but not so their sufferings. After the cus- tomai'y rejoicing at the success and safe return of the warriors, a large fire was kindled, and the people of the village assembled. The captive white children were stripped naked, and then compelled to run around the fire, the savages following them with whips, which they applied to their naked bodies without mercy. When the children screamed with pain and affright, their tormentors would exhibit tlie greatest satisfaction, and yell and laugh until the woods rang with hideous mirth. In this cruel amusement the Indian boys participated with evident relish. While this was going on it seemed to Mrs. Coleman that her heart would break. She was unable longer to endure the agonizing screams of her own children, as they were pursued and lashed about the fire. She knew she was powerless to do them any good, so she resolved to flee to some secluded spot, where, out of reach of the Indians, she could quietly lie down and die. Steal- ing away softly and quietly until out of their sight, she ran as fast as her limbs would carry her. Presently she discovered a light in the distance, and by an unaccountable impulse, she resolved to go to it, not caring whether she lived or died. Here she found an old squaw who occupied a wigwam by herself. This squaw had lived among the white people, could speak their language tolerably well, and was known as Peter Nell — a name probably a corruption of Petro- nella, given her in baptism by the Moravians. To her Mrs. Coleman applied in her extremity. The womanly heart of the squaw was touched. She received her white sister kindly; assured her that the Indians should do her no further harm; and making her a bed of leaves and bear-skins, bade her rest until she could prepare some proper nourishment. This kind-hearted daughter of the foi'est presently came with a dish of ven- ison soup prepared after the manner of the white people, which proved very refreshing to the sick and exhausted captive. The latter remained with her benefactor until her health was completely restored, when the squaw" rendered her still further service by assisting her to return to her friends in Orange county. The fate of the other captives is unknown. It was many years after- wards reported that two of them escaped, but of this there is no certainty. Pliebe Reynolds ani/ the 'J\u'ics. 99 PHEBE REYNOLDS AND THE TORIES. MAN is largely a creature of circumstances. Wliatever may be liis natu- ral endowments Ave cannot shut our eyes to the fact that his cliaractcr is moulded by his surroundings. The girl that has been reared in luxury and ease, the sid)ject of assiduous care as though she were a tender and volatile plant, A\all acquire a softness and effeminacy that will lead her to lose self- control upon the slightest occasion. Her less-favored sister, bom with like en- dowments, but who has been brought u]^ amid the hardships and dangers of frontier life, when her fortitude is put to the test, \W11 be found capable of per- forming acts of heroism that will imt many of the lords of creation to shame. Among all the heroines of the border, whose deeds of hardihood and self-denial have been put on recoi'd, there will be found not one excelling in the subUmer virtues the subject of this sketch. Phebe Reynolds was the daughter of Henry Reynolds, and one of a large family of children. They were residing, at the time of the Revolution, in a log cabin in the present town of Monroe, within the region of country infested by the notorious Claudius Smith band of outlaws. One night the gang sm-- rounded Reynolds's cabin with i)ui-i)ose to effect an entrance, but found the win- dows and doors securely barred and bolted. They next mounted the roof, and two or three essayed to drop down the wide-mouthed chimney; one of the family poured the contents of a feather-bed upon the fire, and the rol)bei-s were forced to beat a retreat to escape suffocation. Some time afterward a second attempt was made with a difTerent result. Benjamin Kelley and Philip Roblin, both of whom were near neighbors of Reynolds, together with several others, went to Reynolds's house one dark night, and knocked for admission, representing themselves to be a detachment of the American army in search of deserters. After hurriedly dressing himself Reynolds opened the door, and then went to the fire-])lace to procure a light. While his back was turned to his visitors one of them struck him with the flat side of his sword, and told him to make haste. This at once revealed the char- acter of his guests. He made a rush for the door, but just outside stumbled over a log, and fell headlong. Ere he could recover himself the gang were upon him, and he was dragged back into the house. When the struggle began, Reynolds called loudly for Ins son, then a mere lad, to come to his assistance. When the boy came into the room, one of the men seized him, set him down upon the floor, and told him if lie moved even so much as to turn his head right or left, he would cut it off. This so terrified the boy that he sat as motionless as if he had been carved in stone. Mi's. Rey- nolds, accompanied by some of the other children, now came into the apart- ment; when she saw her husband in the hands of niffians, she fell upon the Lorc. lOO Lege7ids of the Shawanguiik. HANGING OF REYNOLDS. floor in convulsions; and it is believed she remained unconscious through most of the ensuing strife. After binding Reynolds, and wounding him with their knives and swords, they, in the presence of his family, proceeded to hang him on the trammel-pole of his fire-place. Having accomplished this, the members of the gang dispersed through the several rooms and commenced plundering, leaving him, as they supposed, in the throes of death. At this time Phebe Reynolds was twelve years old, but large and robust for one of her age. She had become inured to tlie dangers and terrors of bor- der life, and was resolute and fearless, particularly when her blood was up. Taking advantage of their temporary absence, Phebe caught up a knife and hastily cut the rope by which her father was sus- pended. She also threw the noose from his neck and managed to get him upon a bed. It was not long before the ruffians discovered what had been done, and again they gathered in the room to murder Reynolds. The girl boldly confronted them with her knife, like a lioness at bay. They commanded her to go away, threatening her with instant death if she refused. She declared she did not wish to live if they murdered her father. They then menaced lier with swords and knives; still she stood lier ground courageously. Finding them determined to murder her father, she sprang upon the bed, clasped her hands tightly around him, and attempted thus to shield him from their bloody instruments. One of the men then took the rope and cruelly beat the girl; but she did not even moan, or Avince, although she was marked from head to foot with broad, angry stripes. Finding this to be of no avail, the marauders forcibly tore her away, and once more Mr. Reynolds was left hanging to the trammel-pole, while they re- sumed their work of plundering the house. Again did the heroic daughter cut the rope, and was leading her father to another room, when his strength gave out, and he sank upon the floor. Again did the wretches discover what had been done, and they attacked him with their knives and swords as he lay upon the floor, and once more the brave daughter threw herself upon him, and endeavored to protect him; receiving on her own person many of the blows that were intended for him. In short, her clothing was saturated with the blood flowing from numerous cuts in her fore-, head and breast. Finally the robbers threw Mr. Reynolds into an old chest, and, shutting down the lid, they left the place, first destroying his private papers and setting fire to the house. They also rolled a large stone against the door, which opened outward, and told them they would shoot the first one that dared to raise the latch, with the design that the Avhole family should be burned up with the house. Phebe now made her way to the chest, and, raising the lid, found her Pkcbc Reynolds and the Tories. loi father, stiff and rigid, and apparently dead. Witli such lielp as her mother and the lad could give, the body of her father was lifted fr<^m the chest, and while this was being done, a low moan escaped his lips. She immediately pried open his teeth with a pewter spoon, and gave him a few drops of water. This seemed to revive him, and she gave him more while she [)roceeded to staunch the blood that was flowing from his wounds. While thus occupied her mother was moaning and wandering aimlessly from room to room, and presently she noticed that a bed, a hogshead of flax, and some other inflammable material were on fire. The mother, appalled at this discovery, cried out, " Oh, Phebe, the house is on fire in three places ! " "Why don't you put it out ? " demanded the daughter. "Oh, I can't," was the dismayed reply, "if it bums down over our heads ! " " Then come and take care of father and let me do it." The brave girl ])romptly dashed water on the burning beds, threw a drenched rug over the flax, and went back to her father. While engaged in dressing his wounds, she told the lad to go out and alarm the neighborhood; but the boy did not dare to leave the house. She then, after doing all she could for the safety and comfort of her father, set out upon the errand herself. Although her person was covered with cuts and wounds, her clotliing saturated with her own blood, and she had i)assed through a scene of teri'or such as few could have had the fortitude to face, yet she was so cool and collected that she noticed the crowing of cocks in the neighborhood as she passed along the road, and knew that morning was near. The alarm spread from house to house. A body of men immediately as- sembled, and shortly after sunrise started in pursuit of the ruffians. The latter were followed into their retreat in the mountains with such energy that they were taken by surprise and four or five of them were killed. One of the killed was Kelley, the leader of the gang, who resided within a mile of Reynolds's house, and had passed for a Whig. He was shot by a young man named June, who knew Kelley personally. It appears that June had been informed the robbers were at a certain place playing cards. When he approached their hid- ing place they heard him coming, and rose to tlieir feet. As th(^y did so, he fired into their midst; tlie shot mortally womided Kelley, whose body was after- ward found at a sulphur spring to which he had wandered and died. The re- mains were partially covered up with leaves and brush, and near by was the wedding suit of Heiu^y Reynolds, tied u]^ Avith a bark string. This suit Mr. Reynolds had preserved over fourteen years; yet he expressed a wish never to wear or see the clothes again since they had been on the back of a Tor}^ Only two of the iiiffians escai)ed, and they were afterwards arrested in New Jersey. Reynolds would not consent to appear against them, pnjbably on accomit of his Quaker principles. While some of the neighbors were pursuing the marauders, others, includ- ing the physicians of the town, were attending to the injuries of the family. Reynolds, it was found, had been cut and stabbed in more than thirty places. All ear had been so nearly severed that it hung down on his shoulder. It was I02 Legends of the Shawangtink. replaced as well as circumstances would admit, but the wound healed in such a way as to disfigure him for life. One of his hands was cut so badly that he never afterwards fully recovered its use. For weeks Eeynolds was on the brink of the grave; but he possessed a strong constitution, fortified by a life of temperance and regular habits, and he was once more restored to health. His wounds so completely covered his per- son that, as he lay bandaged, he more resembled an Egyptian mummy than anything else. His neighbors were very kind to him; they cut his wheat, gathered his hay, and even provided for his family. When the physicians turned their attention to Phebe, it was found that the wounds on her forehead and breast were of a serious nature, and that her body and limbs were badly bruised and lacerated. Whenever she came within her father's sight, her bruised and bandaged appearance so affected him, that the physicians directed that she should not be allowed to come in his room ; and instead of exacting fees for their attendance, the physicians filled Phebe's hands with coin. Soon after this event Henry Eeynolds removed to Sullivan county, where he lived to a good old age, greatly respected by all who knew him. There are people still living in Fallsburg and Neversink who have heard the facts related by Henry Reynolds himself as he exhibited his scars. Phebe became the wife of Jeremiah Drake, of Neversink Flats, and died in November, 1853; her re- mains repose in the little burial-ground, near those of her husband. Her pos- terity are among the most highly honored residents of the Neversink valley. One hundred years after the marriage of Henry Eeynolds, says Quinlan, it is estimated that his descendants numbered upwards of one thousand. MISS LAND'S MIDNIGHT JOURNEY. ON the east bank of the Delaware river, near the Falls of Cochecton, dur- ing the Eevolution and for some time thereafter, there stood a log house, a fair representative of the rude cabins of the frontier. This was the resi- dence of Bryant Kane, whose family consisted of a wife and several children. Kane was thought to entertain sentiments favorable to the King, for which he incurred the ill-will and suspicion of his neighbors; the feeling became so strong against him that he was forced to leave the neighborhood, information having reached him that Captain Tyler, who was killed subsequently at the battle of Minisink, had issued orders for his arrest. Before leaving home Kane engaged a man named Flowers to stay with his family and manage the farm; and, confident that no harm could befall them, and that the feuds and vindictiyeness of partisan warfare would not be visited upon innocent women and children, he did not take his family with him. But Bryant Kane was never suffered to look upon their faces again. J//ss Land's JMiduioht Journey. 103 On the opposite bank of the river resided lt(jbert Land, also a Tory, and. like Kane, a refugee from his home. It was kiiovvn that Indians and sccnits were in the neighborhood, and their pi-esence was a source of uneasiness. One day in the month of A])ril the wife (jf Robert Land, and her son, a lad of nineteen years, fearing a visit fiom the Indians, drove tlieir cattle to a place of conceal- ment in the mountains. Here tliey remained all night to guai'd them, leaving three other brothers and two sisters at home. When the family had retired, and all were asleep, one of the dangiiters was disturbed b}- some one in her room. She awoke to find an Indian standing by her bed, drawing a spear i)oint gently across the sole of her foot. The fel- low spoke Idndly to her in his broken Indian accent, and told her to get up and run to the neighbors and let them know the Indians had come. He had found means to enter her sleeping apartment without alarming the other members of the family, and had chosen this novel method of awakening her. Whether her nocturnal visitor really intended to befriend the settlers by putting them on their guard is not known; but without further explanation he left the house as mysteriously as he came. Miss Land arose, dressed herself, and silently left tlie house. Singularly enougli slie did not alarm her brothers and sisters, who were still wi-ipped in slumber. She drew her shawl closer about her head, for the night v»\as chiUy, and hurried down to the river side. Her way led down the bank through a ravine, over which a clump of hemlocks cast a deep gloom. Her fancy half pictured a wild beast or Indian warrior ci-ouching under the shadow. She then sought for the dug-out, and, having found it, Ijoldly puslunl for the opposite shore. The wind sighed dismally through the evergreens; an owl, in a dry tree that hung over the river, was sounding its boding cry; the night was dark and the waters swollen. Miss Land thought she never before undertook so lonely a journey. She pointed the canoe's head to the river path that led up to Kane's house; she knew the spot by a large hemlock that stood at the brink and leaned over the river. She was soon winding up the zigzag path; she had so often passed over it that she knew its every crook and irregularity. As she came into the clearing all was silent, save the low moaning of the wind among the pines, and the cry of the owl down by the river bank. Tlie girdled trees, denuded of their limbs and blackened l)y fire, stood around like grim and ghostly sentinels. Approaching the house, no sign of life was visible. She thought of the prol)ability that Indians might be lurking at that moment in the shadows of the charred stumps, ready at the signal to staitle the night air with the war-whoop, and slaughter the sleeping inmates. Her feelings served to quicken her pace. Once at the door of tlie Kane cabin she endeavored to attract the attention of those \\ithin. She i-apped on the door; llien went to ^Irs. Kane's bedroom window, but could get no response. She next tried to open the door; it yielded, and with i)ali)itating heart she en- tered tlie house. She called the members of the family by name, but received no answer. All was still as the house of death. lOA Legends of the Sliawangnnk. Presently she stumbled over some object upon the floor. Stooping down she found it to be the prostrate body of a woman, and was horrified to find hei* a})parel wet with blood. Miss Land fled from the house; she was too much frightened to shriek. She quickly aroused the family of Nicholas Conklin, the nearest neighbor of the Kane's and told them what she had discovered. It was deemed prudent not to venture abroad before morning. At the break of day Mr. Conklin and some neighbors went to the Kane cabin, where they found that the entire family, including Mr. Flowers, had been mm-dered and scalped. Mrs. Kane had evidently been scalped while alive, for she had died while attempting to dress herself, and a portion of her dress was drawn over her mutilated head. After gazing at the horrid scene, the party accompanied Miss Land home. Her mother and brother John were still absent; while her little brother Abel had been taken from the house by Indians during the night. Not long after this Mrs. Land and John returned, and were informed of what had taken place. They thought it very strange that their family should be made a target for both parties. John resolved on an attempt to recover his missing brother; so, hastily collecting a few of his neighbors, among them some friendly Indians liv- ing in the vicinity, he set out upon the trail of the marauders, which led to- ward the Mohawk country. After a brief but rapid march they overtook the retreating party, and found them posted for battle. John was not disposed to fight; he only wanted a parley with a view to releasing his brother. An explanation took place, the result of which was that Abel was restored to his friends after first being com- pelled to run the gauntlet. In executing this feat his speed astonished every- body present. He received only a few blows, and such was the admiration of the Indians for the spirit and dexterity he exhibited, that he was suffered to j)ass through unharmed. The two parties then separated; Jolm and his com- panions to their homes, and the Indians, who proved to be a wandering party of Mohawks, to their own country Three years subsequent to the murder of Bryant Kane's family at the Falls of Cochecton, Col. Bryant, with a party of Tories and Indians, made a descent on Harpersfield, in Delaware county. They captured several of the patriots of the settlement, including Mr. Freegift Patchin, whom they took to Niagara. Some time after the Eevolutionary war, Patchin published a narrative of his captivity, in which he says one of his captors was Barney Kane, a Tory. This is thouglit to be the Bryant Kane whose family was murdered on the banks of the Delaware. During the journey from Harpersfield to Niagara, Patchin says Kane boasted that he had killed a Major Hopkins, on an Island in Lake George. A ])arty of pleasure had gone to this island on a sailing excursion, and having delayed their departure until too late to return home, determmed to spend the night on the island. Kane and his party, perceiving that they were defenseless. 'Jlie Tories After the Revolution. 105 proceeded to the pl;ice as soon as it was night, and attacked them as tliey were sleeping aiound a fire. Several of the Americans were killed, among them a woman. This woman had a habe which was not injured in the least. " Tliis," said Kane, " we put to the breast of its dead mother, and in that man- ner we left it. Major Hopkins was wounded, only his thigh-bone being broken. He started up, when I struck him with the butt of my gim on the side of his head. He fell over but caught on one hand. I then knocked him the other way, but he caught on the other hand. A third blow, and I laid him dead. These were all scali)ed except the infant. In the morning a party of Whigs went over and brought away the dead, together with one they found alive, though scalped, and the babe which was hanging and sobbing at the breast of its lifeless mother." Whether the massacre of Bryant Kane's family so wrought upon a nature not originally bad as to convert him into a fiend, or whether his own crimes against his Whig neighbors led to the slaughter of his wife and children, is not known. The feelings which prompted and the motives which actuated the conmiission of the bloody deeds by the early settlers against their neighbors, will never be unveiled until the day of final reckoning. After the declaration of peace, Bryant Kane wandered from place to place in the valley of the Delaware. His property w-as confiscated; and having lost both family and fortune, he sought for consolation in the intoxicating cup, and finally left the comitry. The time and manner of his death no one can tell. John Land became so obnoxious to the Whigs that he was arrested and sent to the "New Jersey log jail." From this he escaped; but was soon retaken, wounded in his head \\\W\ a sword, and hanged until his life was nearly gone. He was informed that next time he would be hanged in earnest, and after being heavily ironed was once more cast into prison. Subsequently a Whig named Harvey became responsible for his good conduct, and he was per- mitted to enjoy the hberties of the town. He hved with Harvey until 1783, when he returned to Cochecton. He became a respectable citizen of the United States, although he was stigmatized until the day of his death as " Jolm Land, the Tory." THE TORIES AFTER THE REVOLUTION. THE bitter animosity engendered during the Revolutionary war between the Whigs and Tories did not subside immediately after the treaty of peace in 1783. The few of the latter who remained in the country were ever after subjected to social ostracism, and were most fortunate if they escaped per- sonal \'iolence. The patriotic inhal)itants of the frontier could not so soon forget the manner in which their babes had been taken from the cradle and from the breasts of their mothers. an.I their brains dashed out, by the hated and despised io6 Legcmis of the Shawangunk. Tories; nor could they blot from their memory the fact that those foes to their country, while professing friendship to the AVhigs, acted as spies for the enemy, and secretly joined the predatory bands of Indians in their incursions against their nearest neighbors of the settlements, and shared in the booty while they excelled their savage allies in deeds of inhumanity. Indeed, this anti-Tory feeling only died out when the last patriot of the Revolution expired. That there would be numerous collisions between the two factions was to be expected, as that would be no more than the legitimate result of such bitter personal re- sentment; nor could the wranglings cease except with the death of the parties. At a militia training in Rochester, about the year 1783, several individuals who were known to be Tories attended. The patriots regarded them with undisguised hatred, and were indignant at their presumption in being present, and only waited the slightest pretext to gratify their ill-feeling by a pitched battle. They did not hesitate to call them Tories to their very faces and hard words passed on both sides. At last a Whig gave a Tory a kick, which was repaid with interest by a blow. Others fell in on both sides, and a general and desperate skirmisli ensued. As nothing but fists and clubbed muskets were used, the fight was long and obstinate, but attended with no fatal results. Allien the affray was over, the Tories bent their steps homeward, meeting a Whig on their way, on whom they administered some retaliatory vengeance. Bruised and bloody, he presented himself before the other Whigs and related what had occurred, adding that the Tories were loading their pieces with balls. The Whigs then charged their guns likewise, and went in pursuit of the offenders; presently coming in sight of them they opened fire, but fortunately none were killed. One who went by the name of " The Tory Van A^eet " lived back of New- town, in the present town of Rochester. He was taken prisoner at Minisink, and forwarded without much ceremony by the various captains from one mili- tary post to another until he was brought up before Captain Kortright, of Rochester. That stern old patriot did not deem it best to let Van Vleet pass his hands without some ceremony suited to the times and the occasion. He ordered out a portion of his company with a fife and drum. Then stripping his prisoner, he caused a liberal allowance of tar and feathers to be applied to his person, and a long yoke with a bell was fastened to his neck by way of distin- guished compliment. A negro then went ahead with a rope attached to the yoke, by which he was led along to the next station, which was at Mill Hook. The Rogue's March was struck up, and a few soldiers Avith charged bayonets followed to spur him up occasionally. Sometimes the negro would give the rope a jerk, when the beU would give a melodious tinkle, blending beautifully with the martial music. There was another Tory by the name of Joe Westbrook, whose father lived in Minisink. On his way home from the war, Joe stopped at Andrew Bevier's, at Napanock, and made some enquiries, as though he were a stranger in those The lories Aftei' the Revolution. 107 pMi'ts. It has been well observed that hypocrisy is ever addicted to overacting its part, and Joe's conduct at that time was no exception to the tiiith of the l)roverbial remark. In short his attempted dece[)tion was the occasion of adverse comment, and aroused the sentiment still more against him, A few warm-hearted patriots in and about Xapanock embarked in a wagon and drove dow^n the Mamakating valley in time to reach Miiiisink early in the evening. They looked in at the window, and saw the old man and his son Joe sitting and talking at the fire. Joe was boasting of his exploits against the WHiigs in the late war — at least so thought the Napanock patriots. They surrounded the house, while Jacobus Chambers, a brave and hardy veteran, was chosen to enter. The moment the tap at the door was heard, Joe ran into an adjoining room. In response to a question from Chambers the old man solemnly declared ' ' he A TUUY TARRKD AND FEATHERKD, YOKF.D AND BELLKD. had not seen his son Joe since the war." Chambers replied, " Give me a candle and I will show you your son." " But I have no candle," persisted the old man. Chambers retorted, " I don't want your candle:" and producing a tallow dip from his pocket he proceeded to liglit it, and then moved towards the door where Joe had secreted himself. ^^ Loop, Joiigen, loop!'" (i*un, boy, run) sang out the old Tory, at the top of his voice. The boy started for the window, but two or three stalwart men were guarding it, and the poor fellow cried out, "Yes, dad, but it's full here too. " Joe was taken in the wagon back to Xapanock, where a council of war was convened to deliberate on his case. Some w^ere for hanging him outright as no more than a just recompense for his past misdeeds, wdiile a fe^v counseled a less rigorous i)unisbment. It is said, while the deliberations were progressing, that Joe trembled and shook as did Belshazzar at the hand- writing on the w^all of his palace, and could not conceal his pleasure when he saw the tar bucket and feathers brought in, and judged by the preparations that it had been de- io8 Legends of the Shaiva7igunk. termined not to hang him. He was accordingly tarred and feathered, yoked and belled, in lieu of the paint which he had formerly used. From the yoke a rope was passed to a man on horseback, by which he was led out of town. On being released, he hired a negro in Eochester to clean him for fifty cents, and then returned to his home in Minisink. TOM QUICK, THE INDIAN SLAYER. THOMAS QUICK emigrated from Ulster county about the year 1T33, and was the descendant of respectable and affluent ancestors, who came over from Holland previous to lG8i). He located some valuable lands at Mil- ford, Pennsylvania, where he built a log cabin, and settled down with none but Indians for neighbors. He depended largely on hunting and fishing for his subsistence, and in this respect his habits differed little from those of the wild Indians about him. It was not long before other settlers were attracted into that locality. Among the few white maidens that had ventured so far into the wilderness was a comely lass whom Thomas Quick prevailed on to share his fortunes in life's thorny pathway. Though the bride's trousseau may not have come from Paris, though guests in silks and rich brocades may not have graced the occa- sion, we question whether loving hearts did not beat as fondly as though sur- rounded by the demands and restraints of fashionable life; and whether the plain and homely fare of corn-l)read and venison was not as thoroughly relished as the most elaborate wedding-feast of modern days. Here, in due time, several children were born to them, among the number Thomas Quick, the subject of this chapter. The Quicks had wisely chosen the location of their home. The family j)rospered, became the owners of mills, and the possessors of much valuable real estate. Notwithstanding that the wealth and social position of the Quicks would assure Tom a welcome to the best society of those border settlements, his tastes led him in another direction — a wild life in the forest and the companionship of the savages by whom he was surrounded proving much more to his liking. At this time the various tribes of natives held undisputed sway along the hanks of the Delaware and its tributaries, except the settlement at Peenpack, on the Neversink; and they frequented the house of Quick, who had early Avon their confidence, and who, from the first, had treated them witli generous hos- pitality. They took quite a fancy to young " Tom," and " made him presents of plumes of feathers and other articles." He frequently participated with the young Indians in their sports, became their companion in their hunting expe- ditions, and learned to speak the Delaware tongue with as much fluency as the Indians themselves. So much did he incline to a hunter's life that he could Tom Quick, tlie Jmiiaii Slayer. 109 rarely be induced to follow any other vocation. His associations develoi)eosing cause of their subsequent atrocities, being excited by the great possessions of the Quicks, which would fall into their hands in case of open hostilities. Fi'equent and open threats were made to expel the whites out of the territory. Tliis was at the time of the breaking out of the French and Indian war; and under such circumstances it was an easy matter for the emissaries of France to rouse the Indians against the adherents of Great Britain, and endeavor to drive them back to their old bounds. Each party feared and distrusted the other. A few whites having been killed or captured at exposed points, it was resolved to mcrease the defenses of the settlement by erecting block-houses, and l)rocuring additional arms and ammunition. The settlers sought to avoid i)ro- voking open hostilities, and hoped the fears of a general uprising of the Indians were groundless. Owing to the changed attitude of the Indians, Tom Quick had withdra^\ni I lo Lcgejids of the Shazvaugunk. from association with tlieiu, and had hecome quite domesticated in the family of his father; and while thus situated an event occurred which crystalized Tom's life, and changed his whole being into one of implacable hatred of the Indian race. The savages had plotted the destruction of Milford, and were then secreted in the neighborhood waiting the approach of night, under cover of whicli to put their plan into execution. Unsusi^icious of such a critical state of affairs, Tom, together with his father and brother, went into the woods across the river for the purpose of cutting hoop -poles. The river was frozen, so they passed over on the ice, and were soon busily engaged in selecting and securing the poles. As they proceeded around a ridge near the river, they were dis- covered by an out-post of the ambushed Indians. The latter determined to attack the Quicks, even at the risk of alarming the settlement, and thus defeat- ing the main object of the expedition. When Tom and his companions had approached sufficiently near, they were fired upon, and the father fell mortally wounded. The Quicks were un- armed; their only course was to fly. Neither of the sons were hurt, and, taking hold of their father, they endeavored to drag him after them as they ran. Being too closely pressed by the pursuing savages, the dying man prevailed on them to leave him to his fate, while they ran for their lives. The only avenue of escape involved the hazardous experiment of crossing the Delaware river on the ice, within full view of the Indians, and at close rifle range. The dash was made ; but before they had reached half way, the savages appeared upon the bank behind them. There was no protection against the murderous rifles of the yelling demons, any of whom could hit a deer nine times in ten while it Avas bounding through the forest; but by running in zig- zag course, and by keeping as far apart as possible, the fire of the Indians was less effective. Pi^esently a ball hit Tom, and he fell; at which the savages ^et up a loud shout. But the next moment he was up again, and running as rapidly as ever. The ball, as was afterward ascertained, only hit the heel of his boot, but with such force as to knock his foot from under him. Again the balls whistled past the fugitives; but, coming to the river bank, they were soon out of danger. The brothers were both fleet runners, and trained in back- woods life. Another circumstance contributing to their escape was, that on leaving their father, they had sought the cover of an overhanging rock, and by striking an oblique direction were well across the river before the savages could get a shot at them. Finding they were not pursued, Tom and his brother crept back to the river bank to see what was going on. They heard the scalping- whoop, and witnessed the rejoicings of the Indians over the remains of their father. It was at this juncture that Tom, rendered frantic by their fiendish conduct, made a solemn vow that he would never cease from a war of extermination as long as an Indian remained on the banks of the Delaware. This oath of ven- geance Tom fulfilled to the letter. It is known that he slew at least twenty Id))i OuicL\ the hidiati Slayer. 1 1 1 of tlio liate(( race, while sonic writeis have placed the nuinl)er of his victims at a hundred. With Tom the killing of Indians hecame a kind of religious duty, in which he undertook to redress the great wrong of his father's murder. He i>ursued his hloody work with all the fervor of a fanatic. In after yeais he w^ould relate his exploits, and give the harrowmg details witli no more show of feeling than if they related to the most trivial affairs; and without any apparent misgiving that his work involved a grave moral question. According to his own statement, Tom destroyed an indefinite number of the hated race while hunting. On hearing the I'eport of a gun in the woods, h(^ Avould creep cautiously to the point whence the sound proceeded, and was generally rewarded by finding an Indian skinning a bear (jr a deer. It was then an easy matter to send a bullet on its fatal errand; and wdien in after years a hunter came upon the bones of an Indian and a deer blenching together in the woods, he would ejaculate— " Another victim of Tom Quick's vengeance."' The sight of an Indian seemed to suggest Imt one thought to Tom, and that w\as how the savage could be dispatched with the greatest facility. He was many times involved in serious personal danger in the execution of his vow% and seems to have had little regard for his own safety whenever an opportunity was offered him of killing an Indian. At last old age came upon Tom Quick, the Indian slayer, and his increasing infirmities compelled him to relinquish his former habits. At this time he lived with James Rosecrans, about three miles below Carpenter's point. Here he w^as kindly treated, and furnished with every comfort he could desire. He was regarded by those who knew his history with a kind of deferential awe; and Avas siKiken of with as much enthusiasm by his admirers as was ever accorded to any hero of modern times. He is described as being six feet in height; gaunt and angular; with high cheek bones; bright and restless gray eyes; and his hair, before it w^as silvered with age, was of a dark l)row^n. He Avas quiet in his demeanor; his features were grave and dignified, seldom relaxing into a smile. So long as he was able, he visited each summer the scenes of his adventures. At such times he stopped temporarily at the house of a friend at Mongaup island, or in a hut near Hagan pond. Tom carried his favorite rifle on his shoulder until the stock was worn through. Outlawed and alone he waged war against a race that had incurred his hatred, imtil the Indians were driven from the territory, leaving him in possession of their hunting-gTounds. Tom died at tlie house of Rosecrans al)Out the year 17JK5, regretting to the last that he had not shot more Indians. If tradition is to be believed, it is tiTie of Tom (^)nick, as was said of Sam- son of old, that "he slew more of his enemies at his death than he destroyed during his whole life." By a strange fatality, Tom was brought down by that dreadful malady— small-pox. The Indians, having learned the place of his sepulchre, dug up the body of their deceased enemy, and distributed the 112 Lcgeitds of the SJiaivanguiik. portions among the clans throughout the vicinity. Great pow-wows were held, every man, woman and child of the several clans were assembled, and the sections of Tom Quick's body were burned with great ceremony. No more effective plan could have been devised to spread the disease, and its ravages were not checked until the tribe had been nearly exterminated. If the death of any man was ever avenged, the death of Tom Quick's father certainly was. TOM QUICK AND THE INDIAN MUSKWINK. NOT long after the close of the French and Indian war, an Indian by the name of Muskwink returned to Peenj)ack, in the lower valley of the Neversink. He was an idle, drunken vagabond, and spent much of his time at Decker's tavern. One day Tom happened at the tavern while Muskwink was there. As was usually the case, the savage was intoxicated; but he claimed Tom's acquaintance, and asked him to drink. The latter replied with some vehemence, which brought on a war of words. The savage, with no apparent design other than to irritate Tom, began to boast of his exploits in the late war, and of his participation in the killing of Tom Quick's father. He declared that he tore the scalp from his head with his own hand; and then pro- ceeded to give a detailed accomit of the whole affair, dwelling at length upon the old man's dying moments, interspersing the narration with unfeeling and irreverent remarks. As if that was not enough to arouse the demon in Tom's heart, the Indian mimicked his father's dying struggles, and even exhibited the sleeve-buttons worn by him at the time he was killed. Tom was unarmed. Suspended on some hooks over the fire-place, in accordance with the custom of border settlements, was a rifle, Tom walked deliberately across the room, removed the rifle from the hooks, saw that it was loaded and primed, and then cocked it. Before those present divined his pur- pose, or the savage could retreat or resist, Tom pointed the muzzle directly at his breast, and ordered him to leave the house. The Indian sullenly complied, and resigned himself to the guidance of Tom, who drove him into the main road leading from Kingston to Minisink, After proceeding about a mile in the direction of Carpenter's point, Tom exclaimed, "You Indian dog, you'll kill no more white men;" and pulling the trigger, shot the Indian in the back. Muskwink jumped two or three feet from the ground and feU dead. Tom then took possession of the sleeve-buttons that had belonged to his father, dragged the body near to the upturned roots of a tree, and kicking some loose dirt and leaves over it, left it there. He then returned to the tavern, replaced the gun on the hooks, and left the neighborhood. Several years afterward the Indian's bones were exhumed by Philip Decker while plowing this land, who gave them loni Quick and the hidian Muskwnik. 113 a Christian burial. It does not appear that any attempt was made to arrest Tom for the murder of Muskwink; if any such were instituted lie ehided them. The frontiersmen generally applauded his action, believing the aggravating circumstances under which he acted were a full and sufficient justification. Not long after this tragedy occurred, Tom was lumting in the vicinity of Butler's rift. As he was watching at the foot of the rift, either for \vild beasts or Indians, he was rewarded by the sight of some savages, coming up the river in a canoe. The party consisted of an Indian and si^uaw, and three children— the youngest an infant at the breast. They were quietly passing up the stream, unaware of the presence of Tom, who lay concealed iii the tall reed-grass gi'ow- ing upon the shore. As they approached, Tom recognized the Indian as one of those who had visited his father's house before the war, and had been engaged in several outrages on the frontier. When they had arrived within gmi-shot, Tom rose from his recumbent posture, and ordered them to come ashore. The Indian had heard of the kill- ing of Muskwink; and when he recognized Tom, he "turned veiy pale," but he dare not disobey, and api)roached the place where Tom stood. The latter then made some inquiries, asking them whence they came and where they were going, to all of which they made respectful answer. Tom next coolly informed the savage that he had reached his journey's end; that his tribe had mui'dered his father and several of his relatives during the Avar, and that he had sworn vengeance against his whole race. The Indian repUed that it was "peace time; " that the hatchet was buried, and that therefore they were now brothers. Tom replied there could be no peace between the redskins and him; that lie had sworn to kill every one that came within his power. He then shot the Indian, who jumped from the canoe into the river, where, after a few convul- sive throes, he died. Then wading out to the canoe he brained the squaw with a tomahawk:— the mother, true to her instinct, essayed to fly to her youngest child after the murderous instrument had cloven through her skull. Next the tw-o oldest children shared the fate of their mother. Tom said he had some difficidty in dispatching them, as they dodged about so, and " y1ANS. ii6 Legends of tJie Shawanguiik. were held by their fingers in the cleft as with a vise. He then brained them at his leisure.* At the close of one cold winter day an Indian came to the house where Tom Quick was stopping, complained of fatigue, and requested permission to stay all night. He professed to be very friendly, but Tom suspected he was an enemy in disguise. During the evening he casually mentioned that he had seen a number of deer during the afternoon, and asked Tom if he would not like to go with him next day and get them. Tom readily assented to the proposition, and they agreed to start at an early hour next morning. During the night Tom managed to get hold of the Indian's rifle. He drew out the charge, sub- stituted ashes in place of the powder, replaced the ball, and restored the gun to the position in which he found it. The next morning Tom detected the Indian covertly examining the chamber of his rifle and the priming, with which he seemed satisfied. This and other circumstances confirmed Tom in the belief that the savage contemplated mischief. There was a deep snow on the ground, and the hunters found difliculty in making their way through it. The Indian, apparently in good faith, pro- posed that one should go ahead and break the j)ath. To this Tom readily assented; and furthermore offered to be the first to go in advance, at which the Indian seemed greatly pleased. In this way they had proceeded a mile or more, and had arrived at a lonely spot, when Tom heard the Indian's gun snap, and the j)Owder whiz in the pan. He turned round and asked the Indian what he had seen. "A fine buck," was the reply. The Indian reprimed his gun and they went on. Pretty soon Tom heard another snap and another fizz . " Well, brother Indian," he inquired, " what did you see this time ? " "I saw an eagle sweep over the forest, ' ' replied the other as he again primed his gun. "Brother Indian," said Tom, "the snow is deep, and I am tired. You go ahead." " The Yankee speaks well," said the savage, and he sullenly took his station in advance. Tom leveled his rifle. " Lying Indian dog, " exclaimed he, " what do you see now ? " "I see the spirit land," said the savage gloomily; and bowing his head and drawing his blanket over his face, calmly awaited his inevitable fate. TOM QUICK'S INDIAN EXPLOITS. ^T^OM was one day wandering through the woods without his rifle, which X was very unusual for him, when he encountered a young Indian who was armed. Tom spoke to him in a friendly manner, and they were soon on good terms. "Brother Indian," said Tom, "would you like to see * A lady residing at Westbrookville pointed out to the writei- the precise spot wliere this is siiid to hiive taken place. Tlie liistorian Qainlan, from wliose writings the above facts are taken, was in- formed that an earlj' settler had seen Indian bones at the spot, and believed the story to be true. Tom Qiiic/c s If id /an Jixploits. i i 7 Tom Quick ? " The young savage intimated that he felt a strong desire to do so, and Tom agreed to show liim the Indian slayer. After a long walk wliich terminated at the brink of a higli ledge, Tom told his companion to wait a few moments and he would show him the person he desired to see. Tom went to the edge of the precipice and peered over to the highway below. Here he watched intently for a few minutes, and then suggested to the Indian to take his i^lace. The Indian cocked his rifle and hastily advanced to Tom's side. " Where is he ? *' eagerly demanded the red man. " There," said Tom, point- ing so that the Indian would project his head and shoulders over the brink in his desire to shoot the enemy of his race. "Further, a little fm'ther," whis- pered Tom. Tlie Indian hung as far over the precipice as he could without losing his equilibrium. Tom quickly slipped around, and gTasping the shoulders of the savage from behind, shouted — " Shoot me I shoot ?»e, would you I " and with those words he hurled the Indian over the precipice, where he was dashed to pieces among the rocks. Two Indians once surprised Tom in his sleep. They bound him securely, and after plundering the cabin in which they found him, set out for their own country by way of the Delaware. One savage, with Tom's chattels upon his shoulders, walked in advance; Tom came next, A\ith his arms securely tied behind him; and the remaining savage, with his rifle and that of his compan- ion, brought up the rear. One of these rifles v.'-as kept cocked in readiness to shoot Tom if he attempted to escape. Their route led them over a high ledge of rocks, where they were obliged to take a very dangerous path far up on the cliff. At times the path was very nari'ow, and at one point lay directly on the l)row of the precipice. AAHien they reached the narrowest and most dangerous part of the path, Tom feigned to be very dizzy, and refused to proceed further, although the blows of the Indian fell thick and fast upon his shoulders He leaned against the bank on the upper side, and shuddered when he cast his eyes toward the river. The savage next attempted to push him along, when by an adroit movement Tom got between him and the precii)ice, and the next instant with a loud " ugh -whoop," the savage was making an air-line descent towards the river. He fell fifty feet or more and lodged in the fork of a syca- more, where he hung helpless, and roaring lustily for his brother savage to come and help him out Tlie rifles fell into the river, Tom relied on his heels for safety, and ran i)inioned as he was with astonishing celerity for home, which he reached without fm-ther incident. Tom was in the habit of concealing in the woods the guns he had taken from the murdered Indians; and this circumstance on one occasion Avas the means of saving his life. Two Indians had captmed him, and were taking him off by the Grassy Brook route. His arms were pinioned with deer-skin thongs. It commenced to rain, and Tom was gi-atified to find that tlie moisture caused the thongs to stretch, and ultimately they became so loose that he could, when he chose, free his hands. He was very careful to conceal this fact from the savages. Near the path they were pursuing was a very large chestnut tree; ii8 Legejids of the Shawangunk. and in the side of this tree furthest from the path was a large hollow space. In this trunk Tom had shortly before concealed several guns, a flask of powder, and some bullets. When they reached this tree Tom expressed a gTeat desire to go to it, and gave such a good reason therefor that he was allowed to go. The Indians both stood by with guns ready aimed, to guard against, any attempt on liis part at escape. Once behind the tree which concealed his move- ments, he loaded two of the guns with inconceivable rapidity, and fired upon one of the savages, who fell dead. His companion attempted to get behind the nearest tree, but he never reached it. Tom was too quick for him and he shared the fate of his comrade. Tom Quick was often the guest of John Showers, in the town of Lumber- land. On one occasion Quick and three or four other white hunters had sought the shelter of Showers's bark roof, when a savage entered and asked to stay all night. He was told he might lodge there. After spending the evening pleas- antly, chatting around the ample fii-eplace, the party wrapped themselves in their blankets and lay do^^^l upon the floor. All wei'e soon asleep except Tom Quick, who remained awake for a sinister purpose. Vvhen the deep breathing of his companions announced that they were unconscious, Tom got up and cautiously secured his gun. In a few minutes the hunters were aroused by an explosion, and found the savage dead in their midst. After the fatal shot Avas given, Tom immediately left for the woods. As the Indians were then the almost exclusive occupants of that part of the country, and would avenge their brother if they knew the whites were responsible for his death, his murder was concealed for many years. INDIAN STRATAGEM TO SLAY TOM QUICK. THE owner of the cabin at which Tom was staying kept a hog. An Indian had formed a plan to make this hog an instrument to effect Tom's destruction. One night, when no one but Tom was in the cabin, this Indian got into the pen, and by holding the hog between his knees caused it to squeal as lustily as though in the claws of a wild animal. This he supposed would lead Tom to conclude a bear had made a- raid on the hog- pen, and that he would come to the rescue. But the wily hunter was not thrown off his guard by this ruse. He cautiously peered through a cre\ace of the cabin; the pig continued to keep up a great outcry, while Tom could see nothing that would indicate the assailant was not an animal. Presently he was rewarded with the sight of an Indian's head above the top log of the pen. The hog proved to be of the perverse sort, which the Indian had hard work to manage and at the same time keep a lookout for Tom's appearance. The huntei-, on discovering the nature of the aggressor, prepar-ed to greet the Indian's head Indian Stratagem to Slay Tovi Quick. 119 slioukl it appear again. The opportune moment arrived; 11 ic ball was sent on its errand; the porker was speedily released, and with a wild yell of pain, the savage l)roke for the woods. But he had received a fatal wound, and Tom soon overtook him, and put a speedy end to his life. Once, when Tom was in a field at work, he Avas accosted hy an unarmed Indian, who said he had discovered something " just over there " that he very nmch wished him to go and see. Tom left his work, hut did not fail to notice the look of satisfaction on the Indian's countenance, as he started to accom- l)any him. This plainly indicated the design of the Indian and put Tom on his guard. The scheming native liad hid his gam m the woods, and hoped to entice Tom into the vicinity unarmed, when he could be dispatched. Tom had gone hut a short distance when he discovered a hemlock knot, which he thought would be a very good weapon in a rough-and-tumble fight. He stooped to pick it up; but the savage perceiving his intention, sprang upon him; and although he got hold of it he could not use it. A severe and protracted stixiggle ensued for the possession of the weapon, with varying advantage; and blows were given and received with the grim determination of men who fight to the death. 'I'oiii finally came off victor; hut he was often heard to declare that this was the most severe fight in which he was ever engaged. When the afTray was over, and the Indian lay dead on the fields Tom was so exhausted that it was with difficulty he made his way to the house at which he was temporarily stopping. Another native Indian attempted Tom's life while he was at work in the saw-mill. Tom, always on the alert, had been made aware of the presence and intention of his enemy, and so arranged his hat and coat as to deceive him. The Indian sent a ball between the shoulders of the coat supposing Tom was inside of it, at which the latter stepped out from his place of hiding and shot the helpless and trembling savage through the heart. Tom was once ranging the woods on the lookout for Indians, and came upon one unexpectedly. Both parties sought shelter behind trees within gun- shot, where they remained a long time, each endeavoring to get a shot at the other without exposing himself. Various stratagems were resorted to with the liope of drawing the other's fire, but each found they had a wary foe to deal with. Tom at length thrust his cap cautiously from behind the tree, Avhen the report of the Indian's rifle was heard, and Tom fell to the gi'ound as though giievously wounded. The Indian dashed forward to rescue the hunter's scalp, when Tom sprang up and aimed at his breast. As the Indian saw the muzzle of the gnu within a few feet of him, he exclaimed in dismay, " Ugh— me cheated 1 " and fell dead at Tom's feet with a ball in his heart. I 20 Legends of the Shawanguiik. THE SAVAGES PLAN TOM QUICK'S CAPTURE. AT last, exasperated beyond measure at the death of so many of their braves, three Indians banded together and pledged themselves they would not i-eturn until Tom's death or capture was effected. They lay in ambush all one season at one of Tom's favorite hunting-grounds; but their intended victim not making his appearance, the approach of cold weather compelled them to seek winter-quarters. With the coming of the next season of flowers they resumed their station and watching. A white man was one day observed com- ing up the river in a canoe. The Indians presently made out it was not the one foj- whom they were watching, but a Tory for whom they entertained a friend- ship. This Tory was, however, an intense hater of Tom, and had more than once threatened to kill him. From him the warriors learned that Tom was at Handsome Eddy, to which point they resolved to go, and be governed by cir- cumstances. There they learned that Tom was hving with one of his friends, and that he was in the habit of going into the woods every night after a cow, and that a bell was on the cow. The next day the three Indians went to the place where the cow was pastured, and secreted themselves. Towards evening they took the bell from the cow and drove the animal back into the woods. They then took their station near Tom's residence wiiere they could observe what was go- ing on without being themselves seen, and commenced ringing the bell. Just before sundown Tom started for the cow, rifle in hand as usual. As soon as he heard the bell it occurred to him that its ring was unusual. This admonished him to caution; and instead of proceeding directly toward the sound, he took a wide circuit, during which he encountered the cow. He now carefully crept forward and came up in the rear of the Indians, whose attention was absorbed in the direction of the house, where they momentaril}^ expected Tom to show himself. As Tom approached from behind he saw that one of the Indians had the bell, while the other two held their arms in readiness for the conflict. He determined to attack aU three. He passed cautiously from tree to tree, so as to bring them within range, with a view to kill two at the first shot. Before he got into position he unfortunately stepped on a dry twig, which snapped under his foot. Instantly the bell stopped ringing, and the Indians turned toward him with their rifles cocked; but he had dodged behind a large hemlock which screened him from view. They saw nothing but the cow which was quietly grazing and walking towards them. Supposing her to have been the cause of their alarm, they again commenced ringing and watch- ing. Tom then left the shelter of the friendly hemlock and reached his objec- tive point. He took deliberate aim, and the twg armed savages were killed or The Savages Plan Jo))i Qiiic/S s Capture. i 2 i disabled, and the hcll-riiigcr wounded, but not sufficiently to prevent his escape. But in his hurry lie forgot to take his rifle. The Indians were more exas])erated than ever when they learned the fate of the two braves. They organized a band of fifteen or twenty others, and determined to spare no efforts to capture or slay Tom. Having found his retreat, and a storm of rain accompanied by a dense fog favoring their i)urpose, the Indians were enabled to surround the cal)in of which he was the solitary occupant, before he was aware of their presence. When they had finally secured him, the joy of the redskins was unbounded. As night was approaching and rain falling in torrents, the party dctcnnined to spend the niglit in Tom's cabin. Tom's skins and other goods were prepared for transportation, but his favorite rifle, standing in a dark corner of the garret, escaped their notice. Among the things which pleased them best was a keg of brandy, a liquid that Tom seldom used, but of which he generally h.id a suj)- ply in his possessicni. They drank of it freely, and its effect soon became visible; the crowd grew uproarious, and menacing looks and gestures began to be directed by three or four of the party towards their unfortunate prisoner. It had been the leading object among the Indiauo to take him alive, so that tbe whole tribe might pai-ticipate in torturing him. It was t(j be feared that some of the more ill-natured savages, under thi ins])iration of the fire- water, would anticipate the action of the tribe and kill him on the spot. To put Tom out of reach of danger, and at the same time relieve all from the restraint of standing guard over him, it was proposed to bind him with addi- tional thongs to a rafter in the garret — a proposition that was heartily approved by all. From his position Tom could hear what was transpiring in tlie room l)elow. He overheard an animated discussion, as to whether it was best to take his scal^) at once, or reserve him for the torture. Tom remained in an agony of sus- pense, revolving in his mind, the while, the i)robability of making his escape. But so desjierate was his situation that hope died within him. He even medi- tated suicide that he might dei)rive his captors of the })leasure they anticipated in his torture, but he was too securely tied to admit of even tliis alternative. About midnight the savages relapsed into a state of quiet. So far as Tom could judge, they were either asleep oi- too drunk to do him any harm Ere long he heard the somid of steps, and some one seemed to be ascending the ladder. A moment afterward the head of a savage appeared above the floor. In n. 129 required to await his turn for liis grist, wliicli sometimes consumed a day or two more. Samp and coarse meal w^ere made at home in various ways. Some had a heavy wooden pestle fastened to a spring pole, Avith which a half hushel of corn could 1)0 pounded at once. This was thought to he a great institution. Later on, small mill-stones, made from the '* giit " of Shawangunk mountain, and oper- ated by hard labor, were introduced into the settlements, by which laborious and tedious operation a semblance of flour could be obtained Even the water-mills of the most approved pattern of those times were cumbersome and unsatisfactorj^ affairs. One of these was put up in SulUvan county by a man named Thompson, and was facetiously dubbed Thompson's samp-mortar by the early settlers. The whole building would shake and (piake to such an extent when the stones were revolving that even venturesome boys would flee from it. A BORDER ALARM. THERE is nothing that will excite the sympathies of a border settlement more than the alarm of a child missing or lost in the woods. The uncertainty as to its fate, compassion for its agonized parents, and a real- izing sense of the feehngs of the little one, exposed to Indian capture, or to be torn in pieces and devoured by wild beasts, or to the slower process of perishing by cold and hunger, — all call forth the deei)est human sympathy. In 1810 the entire population of Bethel "-• town turned out, and for eight days searched the woods for Httle Johmiy Glass, and did not relinquish their efforts until all hope of finding him alive was abandoned. The lad was living with his parents near \Miite lake. His mother sent him to caiTy dinner to his father, who, with some men, w^as chopping wood about a mile away. He reached them safely and started for home, but for some reason got bewildered and lost his way. When the lad did not return in the afternoon, his mother felt no anxiety, as she surmised Johnny had got per- mission from his father to remain in the woods with the men until tlioy returned at nightfall. But w^hen the father arrived in the evening and reported that the lad had innnediately started on his return trip, the dreadful truth flashed ui)on the minds of the household Every parent' can imagine the scene that ensued — the distress of the mother, the wild energy of the father. Hastily summoning his nQarest neighbors, the father spent the niglit in a fruitless search in the woods, while the mother remaiued at home rendered frantic by tlie intensity of her grief. By the next morning the tidings had spread far and wide, and a thorough ♦Quinlan. I 30 Legends of the Shazvanguiik. and systematic search was instituted— all the settlement joining in the work of beating the swamps and thickets. The search was continued from day to day, until all courage and hope were lost. No trace of the boy could be found, and the supposition was that he had perished from terror, cold and hunger, or that he had met with a more speedy and less dreaded death by being devoured by wild beasts, which were then numerous and ferocious. As was afterward ascertained, when little Johnny left the path he traveled almost directly from home. When night overtook him, bewildered, weary and hungry, he lay down by the side of a fallen tree and cried himself to sleep, where he slept until morning. On awakening he again started to find his way out of the woods, wandering at random. In this way he continued to travel ten days, with nothing to eat except wild berries, and seeing no living thing except the beasts and wild birds of the forest. One night as he lay in a fevered sleep on his couch of leaves alongside a log, he was aroused by the bleating of a deer in distress; then he heard the angry growl and snarl of a catamount, and knew the ferocious animal was drinking the blood of his harmless victim. He lay very quiet, as he did not know how soon he might meet with a simDar fate. On the eleventh day of his wanderings he was a pitiable object. His clothes were tattered; his body emaciated and cheeks sunken; his limbs had scarcely strength to carry his body about, while his feet were so sore and swollen that he could scarcely bear his weight on them. He was about to lie down ex- hausted, fu-st calling the name of mother, as he had done scores of times before, with no answer save the echoes of the forest, when his ears were greeted with the tinkling of a cow-bell. The sound gave him renewed life. It nerved him for one more effort. With difficulty he slowly made his way in the direc- tion of the sound, leaving marks of blood on the leaves at every step. He soon came to a clearing in which were several cattle feeding At sight of him the animals started for home. It was near night and he knew if his strength lasted he could find succor. Finally he was obliged to crawl on his hands and knees, and thus he proceeded until he came in sight of a house. This proved to be the dwelling of a Mr. Lain, who lived on the Callicoon. AY]ien Mrs. Lain started to milk the cows she discovered the lost boy on the ground near her door. She took him in her arms and carried him into her dwelling. The good woman had a kindly heart and a sound head, and she treated the wanderer as she would her own son, and with as good judgment as though bred a physician. She bathed him, dressed his sores, put him into a warm bed, judiciously fed and cared for him until he had revived sufficiently to ten his name and residence. News of his safety was then sent to his parents, who for ten days had mourned him as dead. He lived to be an old man. but he never fully recovered from the effects of the adventure, and ever after needed the controlling influence of a mind more sound than his own. In the town of Forestburg, years ago, there lived a little girl named Mary Frieslebau. She was a lovely child, full of hfe and animation. One day she A Border .Harm. 131 went to the house of a neighbor on an errand with s<3me other children. It Avas in winter; a deep snow lay on the gi'ound, and the wood-choppers and luinhennen had cut the woods up into roads in all directions. In i)laying hide- and-seek on their way home, ]\Iary became separated from the other cliildren, and they lost sight of her altogether. CalUng her by name, and receiving no answer, the children returned without her, and supposing she would immedi- ately follow, did not mention the circumstances when they reached home. An hour or more afterward, when her parents sought for her, the children pointed out the spot where she was last seen; and although a score or more engaged in the search, they failed to find her. It so happened that a quack doctor by the name of Heister was living in Orange county, who was looked upon with suspicion by the people of this neighborhood where he sometimes came on professional visits. Inasmuch as he was seen to pass along the road with his wife about the time of IMary's dis- appearance, they surmised he was concerned in abducting her. Some children having reported they had seen Mary in Heister's sleigh, served to confirm their suspicions; and accordingly a warrant was made out, and the doctor and his wife were an^ested and brought to Forestburgh for examination. Two days were spent in investigating the affair by a Justice of Peace, and the evidence was so much against the prisoners that all believed them guilty; they were therefore held for tiial and were required to give bail A rain had meantime fallen, which carried off a portion of the snow with Avdiich the gromid was covered, with the result of exposing a portion of the dress of little Mary, where she lay in the snow with her face downward. She had fallen down exhausted after being separated from her companions, and was concealed from view by the snow which at the time was rajHdly falling. She had probably perished before her parents had set out to look for her. This chapter would not be complete did it not include the adventures of Mrs. Silas Reeves, the wife of an early settler of Fatlsburgh. Her husband manufactured mill-stones and was absent from home most of the time. ^Irs. Reeves was one of your true women, who met the hardships and privations of frontier life with a courage undaunted. At one time she traveled several miles to the house of a neighbor and brought back living coals to replenish her fire. One evening, her cows having failed to come home, she bade her children remain in* the house while she went after them, and told them not to be afraid of the dark, as she would be gone but a little while. Taking up the chubby l)abe and kissing it, she gave it and its little sister into the charge of their elder brother, a bright lad of six; then shutting and securing the door behind her, started on her errand. As it began to grow dark the smaller ones sho^ved symptoms of fear; but the little fellow was equal to liis charge. As the hours went by, and the mother did not return, he gave them their frugal supper and jmt them botli to bed; not, however, without a protest from the babe, who wanted to sit up till his mamma came home. Then propping himself up in his chair, the whole household was soon wrapt in slumber. 1 ^2 Legends of the Shawangunk. Early next morning, a neighbor in passing fonnd the children alone, and heard their story. The two younger were clamoring lustily for their mamma, while the boy was offering such consolation as he was able. The children were at once sent to the house of a relative to be cared for, while the neighborhood was aroused and search made for Mrs. Reeves. For three days the inhabitants MRS. REEVES AND THE WOLVES. far and near were ranging the woods looking for her, and when they at last found her, she Avas exhausted and almost speechless, having lain down to die. One night she climbed to the top of a high rock to get out of the reach of the wolves that were on her track. Here she was serenaded all night, during which they made many unsuccessful attempts to reach her; nor did they leave her until the dawn of day, when they vanished into the forest. SAM'S POINT, OR THE BIG NOSE OF AIOSKAWASTING. THE traveler in the region of the Shawangunk has not failed to notice that remarkable feature of the mountain known as Sam's Point. Even when seen at such a distance that the mountain looks like a blue cloud sus- pended above the earth, this promontory stands out in full relief against the sky. The name has its origin in one of those quaint legends with which the vicinity abounds. The story as handed down by tradition, and still related by the residents of the neighborhood, is as follows: Samuel Gonsalus was a famous hunter and scout. He was born in the Sam's Point, or the Big Nose of Aioskawasting. 133 present town of Mamakating; was reared in the midst of the stirring scenes of frontier Ufe and border warfare, in which lie afterward took such a conspicuous part; and was at last laid to rest in an unassuming grave in the vicinity where occurred the events which have caused his name to be handed down, with some lustre, in the local annals. He lived on the Avest side of the mountain, a locality greatly exposed to Indian outrage, and his whole life was spent in the midst of constant danger. His knowledge of the woods, and his intimate acquaintance with the haunts and habits of his savage neighbtjrs, rendered his services during the French and Indian War of inestimable value. He i)Ossessed many sterling qualities, not the least among which was an abiding devotion to the cause of his country. No risk of his life was too imminent, no sacrifice of his personal interest too great, to deter him from the discharge of duty. When the treacherous Indian neighbors planned a sudden descent on an unsuspecting settlement, "Sam Consawley," as he was familiarly called, would hear rumors of the intended massacre in the air by some means known only to himself, and his first act would be to carry the people warning of their danger. At other times he would join in the exi^editions against bands of hos- tiles: it was on such occasions that he rendered the most signal service. Though not retaining any official recognition of authority, it was known that his voice and counsel largely controlled the movements of the armed bodies with which he was associated, those in command yielding to his known skill and sagacity. His fame as a hunter and Indian fighter Avas not confined to the circle of his friends and associates. The savages both feared and hated him. Many a painted warrior had he sent to the happy hunting-gi-ounds ; many a time had they lain in wait for him, stimulated both by revenge and by the proffer of a handsome bounty on his scalp; but he was always too wary for even the "svily Indian. In September of 1758 a scalping party of Indians made a descent into the country east of the Shawangunk. The warriors were from the Delaware, and had crossed by the old Indian trail * leading through the mountain pass known as "The Traps;" their depredations in the valley having alarmed the people, they were returning by this trail, closely jmrsued by a large body from the set- tlements. At the summit of the mountain the party surprised Sam, who was hunting by himself. As soon as the savages saw him they gave the war-w^hoop, and started in pursuit. Now was an opportunity, thought they, to satisfy their thirst for revenge. Sam was a man of great physical strength, and a fleet i-unner. Very few of the savages could outstrip him in an even race. But the Indians were between him and the oi)en country, and the only way left was toward the precipice. He knew all the paths better than did his pursuers, and he had * Duriny the spring of 1887, the writer followed tliis old war trull for a considerable distaiue, it being still plainly visililf. 134 Legends of the Shawangunk. already devised a plan of escape, while his enemies were calculating either on effecting his capture, or on his throwing himself from the precipice to avoid a more horrid death at their hands. He I'an directly to the point, and pausing to give a shout of defiance at his piu'suers, leaped from a cliff over forty feet in height. As he expected, his fall was broken by a clump of hemlocks, into tho thick f ohage of which he had directed liis jump. He escaped with only a few sUght bruises. The Indians came to the chff, but could see nothing of their enemy; and supposing him to have been mutilated and kiUed among the rocks, and being themselves too closely pursued to admit of delay in searching for a way down to the foot of the ledge, they resumed their flight, satisfied that they were rid of him. But Sam was not dead, as some of them afterward found to their sorrow. To com- memorate this exploit, and also to bestow a recognition of his numerous services, this precipice was named Sam's Poipt. Sam had a nephew by the name of Daniel Gonsalus, who v/as captured by the Indians when he was about five or six years old. The savages were lurk- ing in the vicinity of Mamakating farms; and being too feeble in numbers or too cowardly to make an open attack, they sought to effect their purpose by making secret reprisals. One day the boy, having ventured too far from home, was captured and carried away. He was soon missed, and search made for him, but all to no avail; and after some days his parents gave him up as lost. Whether he had been carried off by some strolling band of Indians, or had become bewildered in the woods, and so perished, was to his agonized parents merely a matter of conjecture. The Indians, on leaving the valley, stopped and rested at a lake in the mountains, where they remained several days. The boy became the adopted son of a warrior and his squaw; ho formed an acquaintance with several of the young Indians, and engaged with them in their sports. Among other things they brought together some small stones and made a miniature wall. After this the band wandered from place to place, and Daniel lost all knowledge of the direction in which his parents lived. For a time he was watched closely; but eventually was regarded as fuUy adopted into the tribe, and was suffered to go where he pleased. After some time had elapsed, the band again encamped by a lake, when Daniel discovered the httle wall of stones he helped build when he was first captured. His love for his white friends had not diminished, nor had his desire to return to them abated. He would have made his escape from his captors long before, only that he did not know which way to go. Here was a discovery that made plain the way to home and friends. Waiting a favorable opportunity he set out on his journey, reaching the residence of his father safely after an absence of three years, where he was received by the family as one raised from the grave. Elizabeth Gonsalus, another relative of Samuel, was captured by savages when she was seven years of age. She was carrying a pail from her father's ''Cross'' Jhirdenbui'irh. i :;- liouse to a field near by. Her way led throiigli l)ars; the i-ails were all down but the upper one; and as she stopped to pass under this, she was caught by a painted Indian. He so terrified her by threats that she could not give an alarm, and conveyed her to his party encamped near by. In company with other captives she was taken several days' march in a southwest course over the mountains and along the banks of the rivers until tliey readied a town in interior Pennsylvania. Here slie remained a prisoner twenty years. Her disappearance from home had been so sudden and mystenous, that her friends were in deep distress as to her probable fate. Had she wandered into the woods and perished ? Such instances were comparatively frequent. Had she been killed and devoured by wild beasts ? Such a fate was by no means uncommon in a country alxjunding with wild animals. Or, worse than all, had she been carried off to become the unwilling slave of a bmtal savage ? These questions had been asked for twenty long years. Her father inclined to the theory that she had been cai)tured by the savages, and continued, year after year, to make inquiries of those who had been among the Indians, in the almost despairing hope that he would yet find tidings of his lost daughter. At last he heard of a white woman wdio was with a clan near Harrisburgh, the circumstances of whose capture led him to suspect she might be the one long sought. He lost no time in searching for the clan, with whom he had the good fortune to find the white woman. Twenty years of a life of servitude, with brutal treatment, had so changed her appearance that he could trace no resemblance in her to the little girl he had lost so long before. He listened to her story, some particulars of which led the father to claim her and carry her back to his home. She had entirely forgotten the names of her family. "When taken to the house in which she was born, she went directly to the bars Avhere she was taken prisoner by the Indian. The shock and fright of her capture twenty years before had fixed the locality so firndy in her memory, that she pointed out the place where the Indian seized her, and gave some of the details attending her capture. There was no longer any doubt— the lost one was restored to the fold. "GROSS" HARDENBURGH. A NARRATIVE OF EARLY LAND TROUBLES. THE man whose crimes and subsequent history form the subject of this chapter was a resident of the Neversink valley. The deeds of violence attributed to this man are yet traditionary in that localit}', and still serve as themes to while away many a winter evening as they are told by the fathers to the younger members of the family, seated by the firesides of the log-cabins and cottages of tlie neighborhood. J 6 Legc7ids of the Skawangunk. Near the beginning of the present century the people of this valley were agitated over the question of title to lands. The settlers had very generally paid for the farms they occupied, the title to which they had acquired under the Beekman patent, and had made considerable improvements in the way of clearing up wild lands, and putting up coinfortable log-cabins and barns, which greatly enhanced the value of the property. They had settled down with the purpose of obtaining a competence that would assure them a serene and com- fortable old age; and now they were threatened with the loss of the fruits of years of trial and sacrifice by a defective title. These pioneers would not look with favor on any one who sought to dispossess them of their farms, even were he a man of sterling qualities, and in possession of a valid title; but it does not appear that Gerard, or " Gross " Hardenburgh, who figured as a rival claimant to the land, enjoyed either of these qualifications. Gross Hardenburgh— we take the liberty of using the name by which he is usually spoken of — ^vas the son of Johannis Hardenburgh, and was born in Eosendale, Ulster county. He was of a haughty and willful temper, and greatly addicted to drink. In early life he married Nancy Ryerson, an estimable lady, by whom he had several children. During the War of the Revolution he espoused the cause of the Colonies with a devoted patriotism, and frequently imperiled his life in the struggle. His time, his means, and his influence were thrown without reserve into the scale. Quinlan, whom we quote largely, says he organized two companies of infantry, both of which were engaged in defending the frontier against the incursions of the savages, one of them being connnanded by him in person. At the attack on Wawarsing, in 1781, it will be recollected that Captain Hardenburgh hastened forward to the relief of the settlement; and having thrown his detachment into a small stone house, he with a force of only nine men bravely withstood the advance of nearly four hundred Indians and Tories. So stubborn was the defense of the little garrison that thirteen of the enemy were left dead on the field. This Captain was none other than Gross Harden- burgh, by whose courage and leadership Wawarsing was saved from utter annihilation. As he advanced in years his habits of dissipation grew upon him to such an extent, that his existence was little better than one continuous debauch, which tended to confirm and inflame his evil propensities, while it obscured what was commendable in his disposition. He became morose, impetuous, tyrannical and uncongenial in the extreme. It is said of him that in his old age, when traveling about the country, he would order the innkeeper with whom he lodged to cover his table Avith candles and the choicest liquors, and taking his seat solitary and alone, drink himself into beastly insensibility. OAving to his vicious and morose ways, his father disowned him, and devised his share of the paternal estate to the heirs of his wife, Nancy Ryerson. This act of the elder Hardenburgh seemed to extinguish the last spark of manhood that lingered in the heart of his eccentric son. "-Gross"' Hardenburgh. ^11 The death of Nancy Ryerson antedated that of her hushand, and several of her children died unmarried; consequently the purpose of the father was defeated, the dissipated son inheriting the property of his deceased cluldren. Gross Hardenhui-h is said to have made the impious and heartless boast, that while his father dlsuiherited him, the Ahnighty had made all right by removing some of his own children. Such were the antecedents of the man who was about to enter upon the work of evicting the settlei-s of Sullivan. Little hope of mercy could any expect who were in his power. His controversy with his father, his wife, his children, and the settlers of the Neversink vallev, had the effect of arousing a spirit of antagonism agamst him which time has scarcely softened, nor the teachings of charity perceptibly modified; few, even at this late day, choosing to say a word in his defense. He hated his familv, and defied the world. When he at last met his fate there was not one left to^uourn his loss; while many could not conceal their joy that his presence would no longer afflict them. Before proceeding to extreme measures, Hardenburgh made a general offer of one lumdred acres of wild upland to each settler of the disputed terri- tory for his improvements; but the occupants of the valley met his overtures with de^anre They had purchased the bottom lands of the Xeversmk m good faith, and were not disposed to yield up their improvements for wild mountain lands. They behoved that Hardenburgh's claim was fraudulent; or should it prove otherwise, that the state would provide a remedy for the diffi- """ Meanwhile finding that his offers were refused, Hardenburgh instituted suits of ejectment against several of the settlers. Without waiting, however for the courts to decide the question, he took the law into his o^xm hands, and commenced the work of seizing upon property and forcibly dispossessing the inhabitants. In the fall of 1S(^C. he took six hundred bushels of gram m bulk, and all the gi'owing crops, from James Brush and his three sons. The grain was placed in a grist-mill o.vmed by himself, which stood on the site of the Hardenburgh saw-mill.^ Gross also o^ed a house and barn m the vicinity, and his son also owned some buildings there. Among the latter was a barn m Avhich was stored three lumdred bushels of gram, which had been forcibly taken from the settlers. n -, . j v It was not long before the mill, houses, and barns, were all destroyed by fire Under such circumstances it was strongly suspected that the dissatisfac- tion of the settlers had an intimate connection with the burning of the prop.^ty, and that a terrible vengeance awaited upon the patentee. Some of the Har- denburgh family were then residing near by, but became so alarmed that they soon left the neighborhood. During that same year it is asserted that Hardenburgh forcibly set the family of James Bmsli out of doors, and kicked Mrs. Brush as she went, though ♦Quinhin's "History of Sullivan." 138 Legends of the Shaivangunk. oiily three days before she had given birth to a child which she then held in her arms. During the absence from home of a neighbor, Jacob Maraquet, his family were ejected, Mrs. Maraquet being dragged from her home by the hair of her head. She died a few days afterward from the effects of her treatment. During the two years following, outrage followed outrage. Hardenburgh was excited to frenzy, and the blood of the settlers was fully aroused. The usui-per of their lands was looked upon as a common enemy, whose death would prove a pubhc blessing. In November, ISOS, Gross Hardenburgh passed through the Neversink valley. He was at that time seventy-five years of age. Notwithstanding he had led a life of dissolute habits, he was still active and energetic, and con- trolled his spirited and somewhat perverse horse with skill and boldness. He was, withal, possessed of a magnificent physique, on which neither time nor dissipation had made perceptible inroads: and he boasted of a weight of two hundred and fifty pounds. He feared neither man nor beast and appeared to entertain no respect for his Creator. Calling on his way along the valley at the house of one of the Grants, he made the emphatic declaration that ' ' he would raise more hell in the next seven years than had ever been on earth before." When passing along what is locally known as the " Dugway, " he noticed that the chimney of a house owned by him, and occupied by a man named John Coney, was not completed. Calling Coney from the house he upbraided him in a towering passion, and concluded with the remark that " unless the chimney was topped out when he came back he would throw him out of doors. " Coney immediately employed the services of a neighbor, and the chimney was finished next day. Hardenburgh spent that night at the house of his son, and soon after sun- rise on the following morning he started to go up the river. About an hour afterward he was found in the road, helpless and speechless. His horse was caught about a mile above. Hardenburgh was taken to a neighboring house, where he lingered until about three o'clock the next morning, when he died. He did not know that he had been shot, and tliose about him did not think best to acquaint him with the fact. Before he died he was heard to remark, that his friends had often told him his horse would throw and probably kill him, " and now," said he, " he has done it." While preparing his body for burial, a bullet-hole was found in his coat, and a wound in his shoulder. His friends were unwilling to admit he had been murdered, and were on the point of burying him without an inquest. An old soldier standing by, who had seen many wounds received in battle, declared that nothing but lead could have made the hole in the dead man's shoulder. A coroner was sent for, and the nearest physicians (one of them Hardenburgh 's son Benjamin) were requested to be present A crowd of people surrounded Van Benscoten's house where the inquest took place, and was attended with scenes and incidents almost too shocking for "Gross" Hardcnhu7'gh. 139 crodonce. Some of tlieni ])rought juj^s of whiskey to make merry over the (leatli of their enemy, aiul Jrmikeimess became tlie order f)f the day. One, who had just come from butchering hogs, as he beheld tlie dead man prepared for dissection, exckiimed: Tliat is fatter pork than I have kiHed to-day." The speaker bore unfriendly relations to one of the physicians; and, while the dis- section was going on, he continued: "That is more than I ever expected to see — my two greatest enemies — one cutting the other up I ""' When the body Avas opened, and the heart exposed, he cried: "My God! that's what I've longed to see for many a day I " Another composed and sang an obscene and irreverent song, in which he described the death of Hardenburgh, the feeding of birds on liis body, and other indelicate details. This greatly pleased the assembled nniltitiide, and was repeated so often, that some can yet recite parts of the composition Quinlan, from whom we glean most of the preceding, says that a woman of the neighborhood, whose descendants are among the most respectable citizens of Fallsburgh, declared that " Gross had gone to — , to fee more laAv^'ers." One of the witnesses, on being asked if he knew who shot Hardenburgh, answered that he did not; but expressed regret that he did not himself do the deed, as " Doctor Benjamin had offered two hundred acres of land to have his father put out of the wa}'." These remarks evoked shouts of merriment from the crowd. Vain were all efforts to preserA'e order; decoiTim and decency were set aside; the rejoicing of the settlers, inflamed l)y the all-potent rum, took the form of the revels of Pandemonium. From evidence elicited at the inquest and from subsequent developments, it is supposed the assassins were three in number, and that they were posted behind a tree about eight rods from the road, where they had cat away some lam-els that had obstructed their view. The ball had entered the victim's shoulder, and passed through, breaking the back-bone; and the shock to his nervous system was such as to instantly deprive him of sensation. Tliis accounts for the circumstance of his not hearing the report of the gun. Several were suspected of being implicated in the nuirder, some of them being arrested either as principals or accessories; it is probable that a number of individuals in the " infected " district could tell more than they were willing to disclose. ^Alien the fatal shot was heard in the valley, one of the men who was at work on the chinmey at the "Dug- way," slapped his hands and remarked, " That's a dead shot 1 An old fat buck has got it now I " A tradition is current in the neighborhood tliat a suspected person moved west, who, on his death-bed, confessed that lie assisted at the nuirder, but stubbornly refused to disclose the name of any of his accomplices. If the death of Gross Hardenburgh was the result of a conspiracy involving a number of per- sons, the secret has been well kept; and guilty souls, blackened with the hor- rible crime, have gone do^^^l to the grave with the burden of their unconfessed transgression. After the assassination, such of the settlers as had not 140 Legends of the Shawangiuik. removed from the valley, found no difficulty in making satisfactory terms with the heirs of Hardenburgh, Thus was ended what the old settlers termed ehe " Hardenburgh war," a term l)y which it is usually spoken of to this day by the residents of the valley. LITTLE JESSIE MITTEER AND TfiE BEAR-TRAP. T) E sure and start for home early, you know I don't like to have Jessie JL3 out after dark, when there are so many wild animals about. You re- member it was only a night or so ago that we heard the wolves howl dreadfully over by the creek; and I heard to-day they killed some sheep of Job Jansen's." Such was the parting injunction of Mrs. Samuel Mitteer, as her husband and little daughter Jessie set out one afternoon on an errand to the house of a neighbor some three miles distant. The husband bade her not to disturb her- self on that account, assuring her that he would be home before nightfall; and the little girl, first kissing her mamma good-bye, took her father's hand and departed in high spirits. They reached their destination, but were obliged to wait a short time for the neighbor to return. The business being arranged, the men engaged in a friendly chat, and the moments flew by unheeded. The sun had already disappeared behind the wall of forest to the west when Samuel bethought himself of his l)romise to his wife. Still, he did not dream of any nioi'e serious result than a httle anxiety on the part of the good woman; and taking his daughter by the hand, set out on their homeward journey as fast as her little feet could carry her. • Her meiTy voice rang through the woods, now growing dim and solemn \\A\h the gathering darkness; and they had already passed the Hemlock wamp, and were more than half way home, when their ears were greeted with a sound that made the father involuntarily clutch the arm of his little companion with an enei-gy that could not fail to alarm her. Again the sound came through the darkening forest aisles and . echoed from hill to hill, and at last died away to a whisper. "What is it, Papa?" exclaimed the child, whose quick glance noted the strange demeanor of her father; " is it anything that will hurt us ? I do wish I was with Mamma ! " Without deigning a reply, Samuel caught the child in his arms, and ran in the direction of home with all his might. Reader, did you ever hear the howl of a wolf in the woods of a still night — when some old forester opens his jaws and sends forth a volume of sound so deep, so prolonged, so changeful, that, as it rolls through the forest and comes back in quavering echoes from the mountains, you are ready to declare that his single voice is an agglomerate of a dozen all blended into one ? Then as you Avait for the sound to die. away, perhaps, across the valley, another will open Little Jessie Mitteer and the Bear-Trap. 141 his mouth and auswer with a howl as deep, and wild, and variable as the fii-st; then a third and a fourth will join in the chorus until the woods will be full of howling and noise ? If you have heard this weird nnisic of the forest, far from home, Avithout means of protection, and with helpless beings in your charge, then you may reahze the feelings of Sanmel ]\Iitteer as he fled along the path with the speed of a deer. ls\\\ Mitteer hoped he might reach home before the first wolf had time to call the others to its assistance, as he understood their habits sufficiently to know these animals seldom 'attack singly. He was within a mile of his house, and less than half that distance from the clearing. So great was the effort he was making in his flight, encumbered by the weight of the child, that be l)egan to show signs of exhaustion; he feared lest his strength should fail entirely before he reached a place of safety. To add to his teiTor he knew by the well-knoT\m sounds that the pack had collected, and that the hungry brutes were upon liis track. The disclosure added new energy to his frame. He was a powerfully built man, and rock and tree flew by as he sped on in his flight. Yet his were the efforts of sheer despair, as he heard the din of snarUng beasts, and knew they were rapidly gaining in the race. He thought of home; he wondered if his friends heard the howhng of the pack, and knew that he was making a race for hfe. He imagined what would be their feelings when they should find his fleshless bones in the woods next day; and even calmly conjectured as to what would be the sensation of being torn Umb from limb by the fierce bi-utes. Nearer, ever nearer, came the howling and snarhng of the pack. He real- ized that his moments were numbered if he depended on the speed of his flight alone. By abandoning his child he knew he could climb a tree beyond the reach of his pursuers; but he could not do so A\dth her on his shoulders. Rather than leave her to her fate he would die with her— the little one whose arms were then encircling his neck, and whose l)reath came thick and fast against his cheek. Ah, that death shriek, when at last her form would be crushed in the jaws of the bloodthirsty bmtes— would it strike him dead ? "I see them commg, Papa," said little Jessie, who from her position could look back over her father's shoulder, "and, oh. Papa, there are so many of them; you won't let them hurt me, will you V A scarcely audil)le gi'oan was the only response. While every means of escape was being canvassed in the mind of the agonized parent with a rapidity that is possible only in times of gi-eat danger, he bethought himself of a bear-trap he had seen in the vicinity but a short time before. Coidd he reach the trap? It was worth the trial. All that human energy could do he would accomplish. Striking obliciuely from the path he bounded away. The door to the trap was raised when he last saw it; if still in tbnt position he l)eheved he could place the child inside and spring the trap; but if the door was domi, he knew he would not have time to raise 142 Legends of the SJiawangiuik. the ponderous weight, and all would yet be lost. It was a forlorn hope at the besto What is tliat object looming up directly in his path ? It is the bear-trap. But the door ! the door ! The shadows of the forest render the vision indis- tinct. He cannot tell whether the door is shut or raised. It appears to be shut. A few more steps will decide. Already he hears the panting of the brutes at his heels, and expects each moment to feel their sharp claws in his flesh. There is a mist before his eyes. He feels that his strength is failing. One moment, and — "Thank God," he cries, "the door is raised." With a wild energy begotten of despair he tears the terrified child from his breast, thrusts her through the opening, touches the spindle and down comes the pon- derous door with a thud. Then seizing an overhanging limb he swung himself up out of reach just as the jaws of tlie foremost wolf came together as he snapped after his prey. JESSIE MITTEER AND THE BEAR-TRAP. Now that the necessity for immediate exertion no longer existed, the re- action was so great that Mr. Mitteer feared he would fall from the tree from sheer exhaustion; to prevent such an occurrence, he tied himself securely with his cravat and handkerchief. All night long the wolves perambulated about that bear-trap and tree, and made the night hideous with their howling. It was a night ever to be remembered by both father and child. They were suffi- ciently near to one another to converse, so they could cheer each other during the long and tedious hours The trap in which Uttle Jessie lay was built so strongly that the largest bear could not get out after it had once sprung the door. The father had told her to keep as near the centre of the pen as she could, and she would be safe. Though out of reach of hai'm, her position was far from enviable, with the ferocious brutes all around and over her prison, thrusting their noses and their A Kiz'cil of Israel Putnam. i43 sharp claws into tlie crevices between the logs in their frantic efforts to reach her. Morning came at last, but Mr. Mitteer dare not leave his percli for fear their late assailants might yet be lurking in the vicinity. The people in the village of Liberty where he resided had heard tlie unusual howhng of the wolves during the night, and much anxiety had been felt, as it was feared they were on his track; the wife and mother had been inconsolable. She had spent the whole night in alternately going to the door of her log cabm to listen to the wolves in the forest through which her husband and child were to return, and then throwing herself upon the bed and giving way to violent paroxysms of grief. Before sunrise a party was sent in search of the wan- derers. Proceeding along the Hurley road the relieving party hallooe the track of a very large panther was discovered, and a party of hunters turned out and followed it to its den in a ledge of rocks. Closing up the entrance to the cave carefully, they went home, proposmg to return next day with reinforcements. The following dav they were on the ground and found everything as they had left it. They first dislodged the rocks for about twenty feet, or half way to the extremity of the den, so as to admit the passage of a man to that point; beyond this they found the hole too smaU and the surrounding material im- movable. A small lamp was tied to the end of a pole and thrust inward far enough to enable the " fiery eye-balls " of the monster to be seen. A candle was next placed so that the light would shine on the barrel of a ritie, and thus enable the daring man who attempted to shoot the panther to take sure ami. The first shot was fired by AVilliam Adams, who wounded the game, causing it to scream so terribly that every one fled from the spot, fearing the enraged creature would emerge and rend them in pieces. Except a few contusions, 144 Legends of the Shawa7igunk. caused by a hasty scramble over fallen tree-trunks and scraggy rocks, no damage Avas incurred. One by one the hunters returned and obtained a furtive view of the scene of terror. All seemed quiet, and after a hasty consultation, the entrance was again securely walled up and the place abandoned for the night. On the third day all the men and boys that the surrounding country afforded were assembled to witness the sport. They were armed with an end- less variety of weapons, — rifles, shot-guns, bayonets, hatchets, axes, crowbars, and butcher knives. It was agreed to resume the plan of operations adopted the day previous. The boulders were once more rolled away from the en- ti'ance, and the lights properly placed. A brother of William Adams, the hero of tlie previous day, went into the passage as far as he was able and fired. The same scene followed as on the second day, the screams of the panther causing a panic in the whole crowd, and the forty men and boys ran as if life depended on the celerity of their flight. The company rallied sooner than on the former occasion, however, and John Hankins fired the third shot, prostrating the panther in his lair. But how to get him out wag the difficulty. None but a lad could enter; and now was a rare opportunity to test the bravery of the boys. One lad volunteered but at the last moment his courage failed him. Next a spirited little fellow named William Lane threw off his coat, hat and vest, and arming himself with a hunting axe and dirk, went into the den, accompanied by Mr. Hankins as far as the latter could get. While his friends remained outside in bi-eathless suspense, young Lane cautiously crept through the narrow passage, pausing occasionally to listen. The panther still exhibited signs of life, as the boy could see by the faint light of his lamp. As soon as young Lane was within reach he buried the blade of his axe in its brain, and then applied the dirk to its throat— a very hazardous experiment. The young hero then ended his adven- tm-e by hauling out the body of the panther, which proved to be the largest of its kind. PANTHER HUNTING AT LONG POND. NO sports are more thoroughly enjoyed by robust men than those of hunt- ing and trapping. The freedom from restraint; the mountain air and vigorous exercise; living in constant communion with Nature, with just enough of danger to add relish to a calling full of excitement and adventure —these are among the causes that lend to such an existence a char mthat no other life can give. Cyrus Dodge had a thrilling adventure at Long Pond, one of the many beautiful sheets of water found in the county of Sullivan. This pond was conspicuous, in times gone by for its large trout, and for the numbers of deer ]\x}i titer JliDitijiir at Lom^ J\>iid. 145 found in its vicinity. (3ne day in mid svn inner, Dodge Avent to tliis lake to look for deer. He sat under some huge trees that grew near the shore, waiting for the deer to come to the Avater. While thus engaged, his attention was directed to a suspicious noise overhead. Looking up he saw a large catamount 'nnd forced to extremities Bruin turned to fight and a fierce and bloody conflict ensued. The hmiters were meanwhile lookmg on with breathless interest while the actors in this drama of the forest were contributing to their entertainment. However, the end was soon reached. The bear proved no match for his adversary, and the feline monster, fastening its teeth in the shoulder of his victim, with its hind feet ripped out his intestines. The hunters now both fired upon the panther and killed it. Then skinning both animals, they hung the bear meat out of the reach of wolves, and went for assistance to take the carcass home. BEAR HUNT ON THE MONGAUP RIVER. THE pioneers of the region of the Shawang-unk, who were, by turns, lum- bermen, farmers, hunters and soldiers, as inclination led or occasion required, were a robust race of men, fearless and active, who tlioroughly enjoyed forest life. Encounters with the fierce denizens of the forest were frequent, always exciting, and occasionally hazardous in the extreme. This territory abounded in wild game, and was a famous hunting-ground for both Bear IIiDit on the Mongaup River. i47 wliite and red men, even after the country adjacent had settled down to civihza- tion. After the War of the RevoUition it is said that " John Land, the Tory,'* trapped enough beaver in the town of Cochecton to pay for four hun(h-ed acres of land. David Overton used to tell of standing in his father's door in the town of Rockland, and shooting deer enough to supply the family. Once he counted thirty of these animals at one time in a pond near the house. Five or six of the larger ones seemed to be standing in a circle and pawing the water with their forefeet. In the winter of 1819, three young men by the name of Burnham, Horton and Brown, residing in Forestburgh, engaged in a bear limit. Burnham, while returning from his work in the woods, discovered fresh bear tracks in the snow, and engaged the others to go \Ai\\ him and capture the animal. Armed with rifle and axe, before daylight the next morning they were on the trail, which they followed for several hours until the track came to a flat on the Mongaup river. Here the snow was very much trampled, and they judged the bear's winter quarters must be in the vicinity. The three commenced to search, when Burnham found a hole near the centre of the flat under some large rocks, with bear tracks leading to and from it. He caUed out to his com- panions that he had f omid the den, and presently aU thi-ee were peering into it, but could see nothing They then cut a pole and thrust it into the opening, when they found the end of the pole came in contact with some soft substance. Burnham then spht the end and t^\asted it vigorously against the substance, and was rewarded \vith some short, black hairs, which were held in the split. They had found the bear, and the animal was within reach of the pole. One of the men sug- gested they would better go home, but Burnham utterly refused to leave until he had killed the bear. His next move was to make the stick very sharp, with whicli he pmiched the bear with all his might. Immediately there was an angiy gi'owl within, ^vith a scrambling of feet and scratching of claws; the bear seized the sharp- ened end and pushed the pole outwardly, carrying Burnham with it. Burnham dropped the pole, stepped back, caught up his rifle, and aimed it just as the bear reached the entrance. As he showed his head at the hole, Bm-iiliam fii'ed, and the bear fell back into his retreat. At first they could not determine whether or not the l)ear was dead; a few vigorous punches ^^^th the pole satisfied them on that point. They then tried to get out their game with crooked sticks, but their efforts were fruitless. Then Burnham went head-first into the den, and taking hold of the bear's shaggy coat, his companions, 1)y pulling on his legs, drew out both him and the bear While waiting to get breath, they heard a noise under the rocks, and presently the head of another l>ear was thrust forth, which speedily met the fate of its companion. It was now dusk and they were occupied with the question as to how to get the bear home. The feet of the smaU bear were tied together and slung 148 Legends of the SJiazvangunk. across the shoulder of one of the party. The large bear was suspended from a pole and carried by the other two. In this way they reached the road, a mile distant, just at dark, where they met a team with an empty sled, on Avhich they were permitted to deposit their game. On reaching home, tired and hmigry as they were, they would not eat until a steak was cut from one of the bears and prepared for their supper, Zephaniah and Nathan Drake, also of the town of Forestburgh, once had an adventure with a bear. They were out hunting and the dogs had driven Bruin up a tree. The hunters came up and saw the bear seated on a limb thirty feet or more from the ground, calmly eyeing the dogs. Zephaniah quicldy brought his rifle to bear upon the animal, when Nathan meekly advised him to be careful and make a sure shot. " Why," said Zeph., a little vexed at the suggestion, "I can shoot the critter's eye right out of his head." The ball, however, missed its mark, but it shattered the upper jaw so that the bear's ZEPHANIAH DRAKE AND THE BEAR. nose and about half of its upper teeth turned up over its forehead The bear fell to the ground, and the dogs fell upon the bear. The bear caught one of the dogs between his paws and attempted to crush it; when the other dog bit the black l)rute so viciously, that he dropped the first dog and turned his atten- tion to the other. Thus the battle went on back and forth, the animals being so mixed up that the brothers dare not shoot, for fear of killing their dogs. Zephaniah finally sailed in with his hunting knife, when the bear left the dogs and attacked his human assailant. The man retreated as the animal advanced upon him. His heel caught in a laurel bush, down he went upon his back, with the bear on top, and the dogs on top of all. For a brief period there was a lively tussle among the bushes. Every actor in that drama was in earnest, as much so as though thousands were witnessing the progress of the fight. From impulse Zephaniah threw up his hand to keep off his assailant as much as possible, and thrust his finger into Bruin's mouth. The bear's jaws, torn and mangled, as they were, closed on one of the fingers and crushed it. CasiuiUy on Blue Mountain . U9 Finally, as Zephauiah was about giving uu for lost, tlu- l.ear, by some means not now known, was killed; but the hero of tliis bear aght ever afterward ex- hibited a crooked finger. CASUALTY ON BLUE MOUNTAIN. o XE method adopted by the early settlers in clearing up timber lands was by " jamming. ' ' This consisted in partially cutting through the trunks of a number of trees, an.l by felling some of tbe outside ones against the others, all woul.l be brought down, and a considerable saving of labor effected. In a few months the interlaced limbs would be sufficiently dry, when ftre would be appUed, and usually nothing but the charred stumps and prostrate trunks would remain. Other farmei-s would first cut the brushwood and smaU trees, while the larger ones were girdled and left standing. The latter, particularly the hem- locks and other evergreens, the foliage of which would remain green too ong after girdling, were sometimes trimmed from the top downward. This metho.l was adopted to save the labor of gathering the trunks into heaps for buriimg, a very laborious undertaking where the timber is large AVhen the limbs and brushwood had became thoroughly dried, and no ram had fallen for several days, the refuse was set on fire. If the result was "a good black burn the ground was ready for planting. N\nien the standing ti-mrks began to decay, fire was again applied, and hi a few years all was thus consumed Some imes however, the burning was not good, when the fallow would be abandoned and allowed to be overrun with brie.^ and other rubbish. These "fallow fires, gleaming in the spring time." are still a feature of Sullivan county Years ago, in the town of Liberty, there occurred an incident that is stdl ft^sh in the minds of the people residing in the locality. One of these aban- doned fallows was on Blue mountain, near the residence of N.athan Stan on. This fallow had come to be a famous spot for blackberries, and the children were in the habit of visiting the place to fill their baskets and pails with the fruit It was near the middle of August, and the day mild and pleasant that the four children of ^^athan Stanton went thither to gather hemes. A\ hile there one of the trees toppled and fell, and, in its fall, struck against another, until a number of the immense tmnks were brought to the ground. ■^\ hen the children heard the first sound of warning, they ran for a place of safety, onlj to be caught under the wide-sprea\ are generally found singly, or at most in pairs, Crocker could not conjecture why so many were together. He followed the tracks until he was hungry, and then sat down to eat his luncheon. Dividing this into two parcels, he proffered one to his dog; but tlie latter instead of sharing the tempting meal, showed liis teeth, and seemed bristling for a fight witli an unseen enemy. Just as the hunter swallowed his last mouthful, a large panther sprang by him, ahnost grazing his shoulder as it passed. Crocker caught up his rifle, fired at the beast at random, and saw it disappear unharmed An instant afterward his dog was fighting another of- the monsters at a httle distance; but the dog was soon glad to get out of reach of the claws of his antagonist and run to his master for protection, As Crocker was reloading, he saw a third panther coming toward him. He shouted at the top of his voice, and it ran up a tree. This one he shot and killed. As soon as he could reload he caught sight of another, which he also shot and brought down from its perch in a tree. Here the fright of the dog, which seemed to feel safe nowhere but between his master's feet, and the screaming of the panthers in every direction, caused Crocker to lose heart. To get out of that swamj) without delay he believed to be his first and sui)reme duty. He ran with all his might for safe ground, and did not stop until he believed himself out of the reach of danger. The next day Crocker returned to the scene of this adventure for the pur})ose of skinning his game. While thus engaged he discovered a largo male panther in the crotch of a tree. He fired at the beast and it fell; but it imme- diately ran up a sapling until the top was reached, when the sapling bent with the weight of the beast until its branches reached the gi'ound. As the panther came down, the dog, forgetting the rough usage of the previous day, stood ready for battle. A rough and-tumble fight ensued, in which the dog was speedily whipped, when he fled yelping toward his master, closely i)ursued by the panther. Crocker's rifle was unloaded; and as he had no reUsh for a hand to-claAv encounter he concluded to iim too. A race ensued in which the dog was ahead, the hunter next, with the panther in the rear, driving all before it. Crocker expected every moment to feel the weight of his pursuer's claws on liis shoulders, and consequently made excellent time. Finding his rifle an en- cumbrance, he dropped it as he ran. Tliis proved his salvation; for the beast stopped a moment to smell at it, and decide whether it should be torn in pieces. This enabled Crocker to get out of the swamp before the panther could over- take him, and the beast did not seem inclined to follow him to the ujiland. After waiting some hours, Crocker, armed with nothing but his hatchet and hunting knife, stai'ted once more for the swamp from which he had twice been driven ingloriously. Recovering his gun, he reloaded it carefully, and endeavored to induce his dog to follow the jjanther's track; but he declined, having had enough of panther hunting. As they were leaving the swamj) the dog conmienced to howl. The panther answered with a loud squall, and started towards the hunter, repeating the challenge as it came, evidently bent on a 1^2 Legends of the Shawangunk. fight. The dog crouched close to the feet of the hunter, while the latter coolly- awaited the approach of the ferocious monster. When it was within one bound of him, and about to spring, Crocker sent a ball crashing into its brain. Without further adventure he skimied the game he had shot during his two days' hunt, and returned home. THE DISAPPOINTED GROOM. WALTER MANNING was a native of Ulster county. At the age of twenty he fell heir to a property of several thousand dollars. Dis- regarding the advice of his friends to let his inheritance remain in real estate, he converted most of it iato cash, and started for the west to make a more colossal fortune. In due time he arrived in California. His talkative- ness soon apprised the people of the town that he was a young man of property, which he proposed to invest when a desirable occasion offered. It was not long before a speculator, who had landed property on his hands that was quite slow of dividends, by dint of raiuch flattery and persuasion, convinced young Manning that his was just the property he required, and that it was certain to bring rich returns in the near future. The result was that Walter paid a large portion of his patrimony for the estate, and set up his pretensions as a landed proprietor. The next essential for house-keeping was a house- keeper, and Walter cast about him for a wife, A young man of reputed Avealth, with a large estate and money in bank, good looking and accom- plished, ought to be in no lack of young ladies willing to share his fortunes. And so it proved in the case of young Walter. Mothers with mamageable daughters vied with each other in their attentions to the young landholder; he was invited to teas, plied with calls, and in short was lionized by the female world generally. But Walter Manning, with all his wealth, his devotion to the sex, and the largeness of his philanthropic soul, could not marry them all. He must needs single out one of the number of his admirers, and content himself with the love and adoration of her alone, so unreasonable and circumsciibing are the marital regulations of modern society. Among the most beautiful and accom- plished of those damsels, he thought Virginia Green the most to his liking. She was a blonde, possessed a petite figure, bore the reputation of a superb dancer, and withal was an excellent conversationalist. As soon as Walter's preference became known, lie was no longer invited to afternoon tea-parties. The mothers of marriageable daughters were fain to i)ass him unrecognized. But if he had lost caste in the eyes of the feminine public, he was more than compensated by the smiles and caresses of Virginia Green. Not a day passed but he was found in her society; and what his passion overabounded in intensity, TJic Disappointed Groom. 153 her affection countei balanced in devotion. Tii short they became engaged. And now tliat the matter was settled, \s\\y delay the day of imptials ? When love was so fervent, the mansion in want of a mistress, and a bachelor heart so much distressed for lack of a ministering angel, procrastination was a loss to all concerned. Walter pressed his suit for an early wedding, and the young lady, after a show of reluctance which amounted to nothing, a[)peared to bend to his desires. "But," said the young lady, "you know that fortune is fickle, more in- constant even than affection. Why not bestow upon your future Avife a mar- riage portion! It will be yours to enjoy as though held in youi- own name, and should fortune fail you, you will have something saved fn^m the wreck, to fall back upon. Besides, it will be a slight token of the sincerity of your pro- fessions of love to me." " That I will readily do," said Walter. " I'll give you the deed to this estate, to be given you at the altar on the day of your nuptials, to be celebrated at the parish church next Thanksgiving Day, two months hence;" to which she assented in tones of never-dying affection. Now foUo^ved the busy note of preparation. Numerous journeys to the metropolis, a half score of milliners, dressmakers, hair-dressers, and assistants were found necessary to bring out a trousseau suitable for the future misti-ess of Redwood HaU. The coming wedding absorbed the talk of the town: and Walter thought himself fortunate in that he could now revenge himself for the slij^hts of his former admirers, by leading the most beautiful of them all to the altar. Ev^ry body received cards of invitation, and no less than three clergy- men were invited to be present, that there might be no hitch in the ceremony. Thanksgiving Day arrived at length, and a most auspicious day it proved. The air was bland, the sun shone brightly, and nature seemed to don a holiday attire in keeping with the occasion. The church was gaily trimmed; carpets Avere spread from the doors to the carriage-way, and the pcAvs were literally crammed with people clad in fashionable attire. The organ pealed forth its most joyous wedding march, and presently a flutter in the audience showed that the contracting j.arties had arrived. As the bride swept up the aisle, a bewilderment of feathers, lace and white satin, a murmur of admiration ran through the entire assembly. And, too, the manly bearing of Walter was such as to cause a perceptible flutter in the hearts of more than one damsel present. As they took their places in front of the altar, and just as the highest flour- ish of the Wedding March was reached, Walter took a package from his pocket and gave it to the woman at his side. It was the deed of Redwood Hall, made over to Virginia Green, made to her before she was his bride, as a husband may not transfer real estate to his wife. The last notes of the organ died away in senn(iuavers among the arches of the ceiling when the minister stepped forward and in solemn tones said, "Let the parties join hands." a.nd in a moment continued, " If any one have reason- able objection to the marriage of Walter ^Faiming and Virginia Green, let liim 210W make it known, or forever hold his peace." 1^4 Legends of tJic Shawangunk. A pause ensued in which tlie silence became oppressive. Presently a voice was heard. It was that of a young man in the rear of the audience. " I object to the bans. ' ' All eyes Avere turned in the direction of the speaker. ' ' State the grounds of your objection," said the officiating clergyman with forced com- posure. " On the ground that the lady at the altar is already my wife," was the calm reply. And then all present knew a wrong had been done that robbed Walter Manning, in one moment, of a bride and an estate. In one hour's time, the disappointed groom had arranged his pecuniary affairs, and was on his way Avitii the remains of his fortune to his home in the east. The statements in the foregoing narrative are based on facts. The names only, for obvious reasons, are fictitious. NEW PALTZ. ON the 2r>th of May. 1077, an agreement with the Esopus Indians was made, pursuant to a Ucense from the Hon. Governor Edmund Andros, dated 28th of April, K377, concerning the purchase of land " on the other side of the Rondout kill," known in history as the " Paltz Patent." Matsayay, Wachtonck, Senerakan, Mayakahoos and Wawawanis acknowl- edged to have sold Lewis Du Bois and his associates the land within the follow- ing boundaries: Beginning at the high hill called Moggoneck [Mohoiik], thence southeast toward the Great river to the point called Juffrow's hook in the Long beach, by the Indians called Magaat Ramis [point on Hudson river on line between the towns of Loyd and Marlborough]; thence north along the river to the island lying in the Crura Elbow at the begimiing of the Long Reach, by the Indians called Raphoos [Pell's island;] thence west to the high hill at a place called Waraches and Tawaeretaque [Tower a Tawk, a point of white rocks in the Shawangunk mountain]; thence along the high hill southwest to Maggoneck, including between these boundaries, etc." This tract the Indian^j agreed to sell for the goods specified in the following list: 40 kettles, 4(» axes, 40 addices, 40 shirts, 100 fathoms of white wampum, 100 bars of lead, 1 keg of powder, 60 pairs of socks, 100 knives, 4 ankers of wine, 40 guns, 60 duffel coats, 60 blankets, 1 schepel of pipes, etc. Having thus extinguished the Indian title to this tract by the present of articles vahied by the red man, the settlers of New Paltz enjoyed a comparative immunity from savage outbreak during the early Avars. In order to arrive, however, at a more complete understanding of the history of this settlement, reference wiU be made, in brief, to an event in the chronicles of the old world. The French Protestant Huguenots were celebrated for their love of Hberty and zeal for their chosen religion. Persecutions against them were temporarily abandoned during the reign of Henry IV, King of Navarre, from 1589 to 1610, FIVE SUCCESSIVE CHURCH EDIFICES OF THE DUTCH REFORMED CHURCH AT NEW PALTZ. SIX STONE DWELLINGS .IN NEW PALTZ, N. Y.,'.BUILT SOON AFTER 1700. Nezv Pa It 2. 155 esi)ecially after he proclaimed the celebrated Edict of Nantes in i'A)'6. Louis XIII repeatedly violated its stipulations; and a formal revocation of the Edict was made in 1G85, which cost the hves of 10,000 of the Huguenot people, who per ished at the stake, gibbet, or wheel. Thousands fled t(j other lands for refuge, especially to the Ijower Palatinate, or Pfaltz, along the river Rhine. Some of the persecuted Hollanders likewise fled to the Lower Palatinate, and when they subsequently returned to Holland the Huguenots accompanied them, and both finally emigrated to America. These two peoples were attracted to each other by reason of their adoi)tion of the same religion, and this fellowship was ren- dered still more firm in consequence of the free intermarriage among them. This accounts for the presence of Dutch physiognomies with French names, observable, even at the present day, among the congregations in localities where are found the posterity of the once persecuted Huguenots. . There seems to be no definite information as to the course the Huguenots took in coming to America. They were hospitably received bv the Dutch at Wilt\\'yxk, or Wildwyck, the modern Holland for wild retreat, or wild parish, from its primitive and rough appearance. Soon after the granting of the New Paltz patent the Huguenots set out for their new home in the "vWlderness. Their weary way lay through the trackless forests; and their families and household goods were conveyed in wagons so constracted as to answer the double purpose of transportation and shelter. Arriving at a broad meadow on the banks of a limpid stream they named the place " Tri-Cors," Three Cars, in aUusion to tlie three primitive vehicles in which the possessions of the exiles were transported. The river itself they named AValkill, probably from Wad, one of the branches into which the Rhine divides itself before emptying into the North Sea, and Kill, the Dutch for river; while to the settlement was given the appellation of New Paltz, in remembrance of their ever dear Pfaltz— their ancient home on the Rhine. Here, in the midst of the beautiful alluvial valley, the ciystal waters of the river at their feet, the blue dome of heaven above them, and the towering hills a gallery of attendant witnesses, the Huguenot refugees opened the Bible brought from their old homes, read a lesson from the holy book, and with faces turned toward France, joined in a hearty and joyous thanksgiving to the God that had led them safely thus far, and had permitted them once more to breathe the air of religious freedom. The first conventional act having been that of public worshi}), it was resolved that their first building should be a church. This was built of logs, and was also used as a school- house. Temporary residences were at first i)ut up o\\ the west bank; but the Indians advise. 177o. During the ten years of his ministry he 1 58 Legends of the S/iawangiink. baptized 320* persons at Shawangunk, and married 75 couples; at New Paltz he baptized 212 persons, and performed -11 marriage ceremonies. He was buried under the pulj)it of the Shawangunk church, in accordance with the ancient custom of the society, where his ashes still repose. His widow, Catherine Hager, continued to live at Shawangunk, and married her husband's successor, Rev, Rynier Van Nest Van Nest, the third minister, was early converted, but studied late in life for the ministry. He was for several years clerk in a country store at Bound Brook. He was licensed by the Synod of Kingston October 7, 1773, receiving his call to preach at Shawangunk and New Paltz April 16, 1774. His stipulated salary was £00 and parsonage; New Paltz was to pay £20, and the service was to be divided accoi-dingly. The records say he baptized 384 persons at Shawangunk, and 45 at New Paltz. His labors seem to have extended to Montgomery, where he performed 307 baptisms. His pastoral connections were dissolved by the Classis in April, 1785. His personal appearance is described as follows: height, five feet, ten inches; fleshy as he advanced in age; wore a wig, and was very neat and particular in dress; possessed regular features, with a somewhat prominent nose; he spoke with a loud voices and was considered a good preacher wdien speaking in Dutch, but never succeeded well in English. He was held in high estimation. The fourth minister was Rev. Moses Freligh, wdio was licensed to preach in 1787 by the Synod of New York city, called to preach at Shawangunk and Montgomery February 20, 1788, and was ordained in the Shawangunk church the same year by Rev. Blauvelt Rysdyk, Steven Goetschius and De Witt. First baptism at that place was a child of George Upright and Maria Rhinehart; first baptism at Montgomery, a child of William Christ and Elizabeth Decker. Freligh married Sara,h Varick, of New York, in 1788, and died at Montgomery February 10, 1807, at the age of 54 years. Rev. Henry Polhemus next succeeded to the ministry. He was born at Harlingen, N. J. ; was licensed by the Classis of New York in April, 1798; called to Shawangunk January 23, 1813; installation service June 13th of that year. Rev. Moses Freligh preaching the sermon. Polhemus died in November, 1815. He had been to N ew Jersey, and on his way home was attacked with bilious fever. His remains were deposited under the pulpit, along with those of Goetschius. The next in succession was Rev. G. B. Wilson, who was licensed by the Classis of New Brunswick, and was called to Shawangunk and Paughcaugh- naughsink [New Prospect] in January, 1810. He was dismissed in 1829 on account of feeble health. The follo^ving is a list of ministers up to the present time, with the date of settlement; Henry Mandeville, 1831; John H. Bevier. 1833; JohnB. AlUger, 1845; Charles Scott, 1851; Cyril Spaulding, 1808; P. K. Hageman, 1882. The stone edifice of this church has been subjected to changes suggested by modern taste. The ancient pulpit, beneath which the remains of the two faithful pastors, Goetschius and Polhemus, were deposited, was located on the The Traps. 1 59 north side of the l)iiilding, and the entrance was opposite the pulpit. An ex- tension, surmounted hy a spire, and jjartially enclosing the present entrance to the huilding and a stairway to the gallery, has more recently heen added to the west end, and the i)ulpit moved to the east side of the structure. THE TRAPS. THERE is a singular and romantic formation on the top of the Sliawan- gunk mountain known as The Traps. Quite a village has sprung up Avithin its sheltering bosom, and boasts of a hotel, store and chapel. Benj. Burger and his wife Helena were among the first settlers. They put up a log" cabin and commenced housekeeping in a primitive way. At first the AA-ild animals were so fierce that fires had to be kept at night as a protection to their cattle. A colt was killed by the blood-letting brutes, and the mare was badly bitten and torn. Burger sometimes worked for the farmers in the valley, and when he returned home at nightfall he was obliged to carry a torch to keep off the wolves. He used to tell of seeing their teeth as they gathered about him in tlie darkness and followed him up the mountain, gTowling and snarhng, 3"et keeping at a safe distance through fear of his blazing pine knots. On the east side, near to the highway leading over the mountain, there still stands a straggling building known as The Traps Tavern. ]\Iany years ago, a number of young men from the vicinity of High Falls were at this tavern, and were having a grand frohc. Their visit was protracted far into the night; and as the company seemed in no humor to depart, one of their nnml»er named Hill determined to go home. So, mounting his horse, he set out alone over the mountain road. While passing leisurely down on the opposite side, his horse began to i)rickup his ears, and exhibit other symptoms of alarm; and presently young Hill detected the stealthy tread of some animal that was moving in the underbrush by the roadside. He at last awoke to the fact that wolves were on his track; and, giving the rems to his horse, the frightened animal went galloi>- ing down the inigged mountain road at a breakneck speed. The iron shoes of his horse sent the sparks flying at every step; and the clatter of hoofs, the shouts of the rider, and the sharp quick cries of the wolves in close pursuit, stai-tled the night air and awoke the sleeping echoes among the mountains. A false step, or a failure to retain his seat, and all would have l)een over for young Hill. In this way the cavalcade went dashing down the defiles, and finally brought up before another hotel at the foot of the mountain. Here the pack turned off into the forest, and the panting horse and terrified rider sought tlie friendly shelter of the hostelry until morning. Some thirty years since the neighborhood of The Traps was the scene of a starthng tragedy. Ben. Goshue, a man of middle age and married, became i6o Legends of the Sliaivangunk. intimate with a young mulatto giii by the name of Maria Cross. One Sabbath afternoon he invited her to take a walk, and their rambles led them along the brink of one of the dizzy precipices with which the locality abounds. Arrivv.(l at a point of the rocks where the crag juts out three hundred feet in perpen- dicular height over the base, Ben remarked to his companion that he knew where was an eagles' nest, and asked if she would not like to see it. Stepping aside he went to the brink, and, holding by a small sapling, leaned forward over the frightful chasm until he could see the face of the precipice. Presentl}' he called out that he could see the nest, and that there were some young eagles in it. Unsuspicious of treachery, Maria took his place, and leaned over the edge as far as she dared, but failed to see the nest. " Stand a little nearer," said Ben, " I will not let you fall." So, taking his hand, she took a step for- ward until her head and shoulders hung over the beetling crag; at this moment Ben loosened his hold, gave her a gentle push, and, with a piercing shriek, the girl went over the precipice. Providentially a hemlock tree grew out of the face of the rock, near to the bottom, into the thick branches of which the girl chanced to fall. The momen- tum of her descent was thus broken, so that she was not killed by the shock when she struck at the foot of the precipice. She managed to drag herself the distance of a few yards, where she lay in her agony until morning. During the night she observed a light moving among the rocks v/here she fell, as though a lantern were being borne in the hand of some person there. Maria came to the conclusion it was her seducer and would-be murderer, searching for her mangled body. In the belief that Ben would yet kill her if he found her alive, she lay very quiet; and her visitor, after clambering a long time among the rocks, went away. In all probability it was Ben Gosline, who had come to remove all traces of his double crime. He doubtless concluded that she had escaped alive, or that some one had discovered and removed the body; in either case his only safety lay in immediate flight. Ben was never seen in the vicinity afterward. The next morning, by dint of great exertion, Maria crawled over the broken ground towards the nearest house, when her cries of distress were fortunately heard. When found she was nearly exhausted, and her bowels trailed upon the ground as she urged her way along. Strange to say, she recovered from the effects of her fall; and it is believed is yet hving in comfortable circumstances. Her child, born not long after the above adventure, lived to grow to maturity. The incidents of the attempted murder, and her miraculous escape from instant death, form themes yet fresh in the minds of the residents of the locality. One day, late in autumn, the Avife of Calvin Burger thought she heard the whir of a rattlesnake under the floor of their log cabin. She told her husband of the circumstance on his return, but he affected to believe she must have been mistaken. The snake continued to sound his rattle every day duiing the winter, whenever the heat from the stove warmed his snakeship into some- thing Hke life; still the husband maintained at least an outward show of in- The J raps. i6i credulity, kiunving that any other course on his ])art would necessitate the taking up of the floor to searcli for the snake, or removing from the cahin. At length there came a mild day in spring. It chanced that Burger was ohliged to he away from home on that day, hut he directed his wife to watch for the snake, as he would most likely come out into the sunshine. Mrs. Burger kept a close watch, and was rewarded by seeing a large rattlesnake crawl out through a chink in the foundation wall of her cabin. She found means to dis- patch it, and proudly exhibited the remains of her late unwelcome guest to her husband on his return. The snake proved to be one of the largest of its species. In the vicinity of The Traps are vast crevasses in the rocky ledges, some oi them of unknown depth. These fissures vary in width from a few inches to as many feet, and constitute a feature of the natural scenery of the region. Table Eock is a cliff that apparently has been partially detached from the parent mountain by some com^lsion of the past, but still maintaining its position, and rearing its head high among the surrounding elevations. At an early day an active and intrepid hunter by the ]ianie of Decker chased three deer to the edge of the precipice, two of which leaped from the rocks and were dashed in pieces at the bottom. The third, a huge buck, took up a position on Table Rock, and facing about, boldly defied his pursuer. Decker had thrown down his rifle in the haste of his pursuit, and had nothing but his hunting knife. Undaunted, he closed in with the buck, and a desperate conflict began Grasping the deer by the horns. Decker essayed to cut the animal's throat. The latter attempted to throw off his assailant, repeatedly lifting the hunter from his feet, at times suspending him over the brink of the precipice, so that he hung danghng by the buck's horns. Again the hmiter was obliged to exert his strength to pre- vent the deer from falling over. Long and uncertain the battle waged; at leng-th the courage and agility of the hunter prevailed, and the life-blood of the buck reddened the face of the rock. At the foot of the mountain, near The Traps, many years ago, lived a man by the name of Evans. In his emi)loy was a negro boy named Jed, some nine or ten years of age. One afternoon Jed was sent up in the back lots to bring home the cows. Not returning after the usual absence, Evans went to look for the lad, and was honified to find him Ixnmd to a bai- i)ost in a standing position by a huge black snake, and stone dead. The snake had i>robably attached himself to the post, and, as the boy attemi)ted to pass through, it had taken a turn around the lad and squeezed liini to death. 11 1 62 Lege7ids of the Shawangunk. SHANKS BEN. JOHN MACK was an old resident of Wawarsing. John Mentz, his son-in- law, lived on the east side of the mountain. The only communication between the two families was by an Indian trail leading over the moun- tain, known as the Wawarsing path. Some time during the Revolution Mack started on a visit to his daughter, Mrs. John Mentz, accompanied by his younger daughter, Elsie. On their way they called at the house of a neighbor. While there, Elsie, who was dressed in white, catching a view of herself in the glass, declared that she "looked like a corpse." i\.s she was of a vivacious temperament, the remark impressed itself on the minds of her friends, some regarding it as a premonition of some evil that was to befall her. Without further incident they accomplished their journey, and made the contemplated visit. On their return, John Mentz accompanied them as far as the top of the mountain, with two horses for the old man and his daughter to ride. Mentz proposed taking along his rifle, but was dissuaded from so doing by Mack, who thought it was not necessary. On arriving at the summit where they were to separate, the father and daughter dismounted, the former seating himself upon a log and lighting his pipe. Presently strange movements of the horses indi- cated they saw something unusual: and looking down the path over which they had just come, Mentz saw two Indians advancing, while a third, whom he recognized as the notorious Shanks Ben, was taking a circuitous route through the woods, so as to get in advance of them. Mentz understood the significance of this movement, and realized the danger of their situation. He bitterly regretted he had not followed his own counsel, and brought along his rifle. He might easily have killed the two Indians in the path at a single shot. He had formerly been on intimate terms with Shanks Ben. They had hunted in company, and together had engaged in the labors of the farm; but a quarrel about a dog, and the bitter feeling en- gendered by the war, had contributed to destroy their friendship, and they were now sworn enemies. The old man, knowing it would be vain for him to attempt •escape, sat still, resigned to his inevitable fate. Mentz started with Elsie in a direction designed to elude pursuit; coming to a precipice, he was obliged to leave the girl, in spite of her earnest entreaties that he would not abandon her, and save himself by jumping off the ledge some twenty feet in height. In his leap he injured his ankle badly, but succeeded in making good his escape. Mentz said he might have saved the girl had it not been for a little dog that followed them and kept constantly barking. When Mentz came in sight of Colonel Jansen's, he saw a number of men collected there. A relief party was immediately made up and dispatched to S/lclJ/ks Jicil. 163 the mountain, wliere they found the Ixxhes of the old man and hloomiuij^ maiden, side hy side, covered with purple gore, and nmtilated hy the tomahawk and scali)ing knife -their immortal spirits gone forever ! The scene was solenm heyond description; and it was with difficulty that, in after years. ^hMitz could he induced to speak of it; and he never rt'latr(T the story \vithout s]it>ddiiig a flood of tears. At the time of the mui'der of John Mack and his daughter Elsie, Shanks Ben and his associates were returning from Col. Johannes Jansen's. Lured hy the prize offered hy the British for the scal[) or person of the doughty Colonel, the wily savages had attempted to amhush Jansen as he was leaving the house in the morning. The Indians were discovered hy some of the family, and the alarm given. The Colonel ran \\\W\ all his might for the house, hotly pursued hy Shanks Ben. and closed the door just as the latter hurled a tomahawk at his head. This door is still preserved as a relic of the past, bearing tlie prints of the Indian's weapon. Failing to enter the main building, the assailants ])lun- dered the kitchen: and hearing Mrs. Jansen call out as if the neighbors were coming, they hastily left the place. A young white girl, named Hannah Giianenwalden, daughter of a neigh- bor, was that morning coming to spin for ^Irs. Jansen, and was approaching the house as the Indians were engaged in their plunder. Mrs. Jansen called to her to go back, but Hannah misunderstood the warning, and fell an easy cap- tive. The Indians also took with them two negi'o boys, that Avere never heartivity; and returned to find that he had long been mourned as dead; that his wife had married again, and had another family growing u}) around her. Much as it pained him to break the ties that bound the new family together, she was still his wife, for the law would not recognize the second marriage, now that the legal husband was known to be 1 68 Legends of the Shawangiink. alive. But the way out of the difficulty was reached in an unexpected manner. The second husband went from home, ostensibly on business, and a few days afterward his hat and some of his clothing were found on the banks of the Dela- ware. Whether he really committed himself to the mercy of the water with suicidal intent, or only sought to convey the impression that he was dead, while he left for parts unknown, has never been told. Those who knew him best incline to the view that, from motives of compassion for the feelings of his family, he chose the latter alternative. Major Wood lived many years after his return, and his descendants are held in high estimation at the present time. One of the greatest curiosities, in point of the mysteriousness of its origin in the county of Ulster, is that bit of ancient masonry in the town of Plattekill known as the "Indian Dam." It is located on what is known as the Levi Bodine farm, now occupied by J. S. Terwilliger, jr. The dam in question consists of two stone walls joined at an obtuse angle, and is about one hundred and fifty yards in length, eight or ten feet in height at the highest part, and four feet in width at the top. It is built across a stream at the outlet of a heavily timbered swamp, and would submerge about one hundred acres. As there is scarcely any perceptible fall, the dam could hardly have been built to furnish water power, hence the question as to the purpose of its construction has never been satisfactorily answered. What is stranger still, when the first settlers came into tlie vicinity, more than a century ago, the datn was there in the same condition in which it is now found; nor could they ascertain when, by whom, or for what purpose it was built. Though called the Indian Dam, it is not probable the Indians had anything to do Avith its construction, as they were not given to wall -building Its origin may have been coeval with that of the ancient roads in the vicinity of the Shawangunk mountain, called the "Mine Eoads," indications of which may yet be seen at various points at the foot of the declivities on either side, of which neither history nor tradition can give a satisfactory account. AD19 - O « O ' ^0" "^^ 4 CI ^Mrs'i c> «, v\ ' ^' ^, ^9 \<^ ^ t • o. -^^ * ^-- ^ ^^. o. ^^^ 0^ .«•'•* "o 4 C) * \\ I • • > 0' ■ « • ^ • ^ -^