Legends of the Shawangunk - Pages 25-48



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THE SECOND ESOPUS WAR

SOME acts of crimination and recrimination having occurred between the
Dutch settlers of Kingston and Hurley and their Indian neighbors, growing
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 7th of June, 1663, 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 mesa. After they had been
in Kingston about a quarter of an hour, some people on horseback rushed
through the mill-gate crying 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 tomahawks. They seized what women and children
they could and carried them prisoners outside the gates, plundered the
houses, and set the village on fire to windward, it blowing at the time
from the south. The remaining Indians commanded all the streets, firing
from the corner houses which they occupied, and through the curtains
outside along the highways, so that some of the inhabitants while on their
way to their houses to get their arms were wounded and slain. 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 work that those in different parts of the village were not aware
of what was transpiring until they happened 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 off the savages, which was accordingly done. After the few
men in the village had been collected, and by degrees others arriving from
different quarters, being attracted by the columns of smoke and the
firing, they mustered in the evening sixty-nine efficient men. The burnt
palisades were immediately replaced with new ones, and the people
distributed, during the night, along the bastions and curtains to keep
watch.

In this attack on the two villages fifteen men, four women and two
children were killed. Most of the women and children killed were burned to
death. Of

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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 hunted 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
Indians 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 surprise the Indians, but found the fort untenanted
except by 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 Indians, 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 lookout stations on the
Shawangunk and neighboring mountains, but made no resistance. Quinlan
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 accompany 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 have his horse valued and have security for it.

About one o'clock on the afternoon of the 3d we started from Fort
Wiltwyck; 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 horseback 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 night. Set out again at daybreak,
and about noon came to their first maize-field, where we discovered two
squaws and a Dutch woman

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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 we arrived in sight of their fort,
which we discovered situated on a lofty plain. Divided our force in two,
and proceeded 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 were 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 the 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 were 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 obliged to send a party
across to dislodge them.

In this attack the Indians lost their chief, fourteen other warriors, four
women 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 in old man who accompanied us about half an
hour, but would go no farther. We took him aside and gave him his last
meal. We also recovered twenty-three Christian prisoners out of their
hands. A captive Indian child died on the way, so that there remained
eleven of them still our prisoners.

We next reviewed our men and found we had three killed, and one more
wounded than we had horses. We then held a council of war; after
deliberation it was determined to let the maize stand for the present. We
however plundered the houses, wherein was considerable booty, such as bear
and deer skins, blankets, elk hides, besides other smaller articles, many
of which we were obliged to leave behind us, for we could well have filled
a sloop. We destroyed as much as we could; broke the kettles into pieces,
took also twenty-four guns, more than half of which we smashed, and threw
the barrels here and there in the stream. We found also several horns and
bags of powder, and thirty-one belts and some strings of wampum. We took
the best of the booty along and resolved to set off. We placed the wounded
on horses and had one carried in a blanket on poles by two soldiers in
turns. The first day we marched two miles from the fort.

The Christian prisoners informed us that they were removed every night
into the woods, each night to a different place, through fear of the
Dutch, and brought back in the morning; but on the day before we attacked
them, a Mohawk visited them, who remained with them during the night. When
about to convey the Christian captives again into the woods the Mohawk
said to the

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Esopus Indians-"What, do you carry the Christian prisoners every night
into the woods?" To which they answered "Yes." Hereupon the Mohawk said
"Let them remain at liberty here, for you live so far in the woods that
the Dutch will not come hither, for they cannot come so far without being
discovered before they reach you." So they kept the prisoners by them that
night. The Mohawk departed in the morning, leaving a new blanket and two
pieces of cloth, which fell to us as a booty.

Early on the morning of the 6th we resumed our journey. The same day came
just beyond the Esopus kill, where we remained that night. At this place
the Indian child died, which we threw into the creek. Arrived at Wiltwyck
about noon of the following day.

On the 22d a detachment was sent out from Wiltwyck to guard some plowmen
while they labored in the fields. About midnight the party passed along
the kill where some maize lay, about two hours march from the village. On
arriving there they found only a small patch of maize, as it had all been
plucked by some straggling Indians or bears. Our people carried off what
remained. The Indian prisoners whom we held had first informed us, to-day,
that a small spot of corn had been planted there principally to supply
food to stragglers who went to and fro to injure the Christians. Should
they come again they'll not find any food.

About eleven o'clock on the following night, a party was sent about three
miles in a northeasterly direction from Wiltwyck, having been informed
there was some Indian maize at that place, to see if they could not remove
it either by land or water. They returned about two o'clock in the
afternoon of the next day and reported they had been on the Indians' maize
plantation, but saw no Indians, nor anything to indicate they had been
there for a long time, for the maize had not been hoed, and therefore had
not come to its full growth, and had been much injured by wild animals.

One plantation however was good, having been hoed by the Indians, but that
was likewise much injured by wild beasts. They said it was beautiful maize
land, suitable for a number of bouweries, and for the immediate reception
of the plow. On Sunday afternoon, September 30th, powder and ball were
distributed to the soldiers and friendly Indians, in the proportion of one
pound of powder, one pound of lead and three pounds of biscuit for each
man, who was to accompany an expedition into the Indian country. On Monday
marched from Wiltwyck with 108 men and 46 Marseping Indians. About two
o'clock of the following day we came to the fort of the Esopus Indians
that we had attacked on the 5th of September, and there found five large
pits into which they had cast their dead. The wolves had rooted up and
devoured some of them. Lower down on the kill were four other pits full of
dead Indians and we found further on the bodies of three Indians, with a
squaw and a child, that lay unburied and almost wholly devoured by the
ravens and the wolves. We pulled up the Indian fort and threw the
palisades, one on the other, in sundry heaps and set them on fire,
together with the wigwams around the fort, and thus the fort and houses
were destroyed and

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burnt. About 10 o'clock we marched thence down along the crook where lay
divers maize plantations, which we also destroyed and cast the maize into
the creek. Several large wigwams also stood there, which we burnt. Having
destroyed everything we returned to Wiltwyck, reaching there in the
evening of the next day.

About noon of Sunday, October 7th, a girl was brought up from the Redoubt
[Rondout], who, the day before, had arrived on the opposite bank at that
place, and was immediately conveyed across the stream. The girl said she
had escaped from an Indian who had taken her prisoner, and who resided in
the mountain on the other side of the creek about three miles from
Wiltwyck, where he had a hut, and a small patch of corn which he had
pulled, and had been there about three weeks to remove the corn. She had
tried to escape before, but could not find her way out of the woods, and
was forced to return to the hut. Forty men were at once sent out to try
and catch the Indian. They reached the hut before sunset, which they
surrounded with the intention of surprising the savage, but the hut was
found to be empty. They found a lot of corn near the hut, and another lot
at the kill, part of which they burned, and a part they brought back with
them. They remained in the hut during the night and watched there. On the
10th of that month, Louis Du Bois, the Walloon, went to fetch his oxen
which had gone back of Juriaen Westphaelen's land. As he was about to
drive home the oxen, three Indians, who lay in the bush with the intention
of taking him prisoner, leaped forth. One of the savages shot at him with
an arrow, slightly wounding him, whereupon Louis struck the Indian a heavy
blow on the breast with a piece of palisade, and so escaped 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 retreated into
the woods.

The Indians were finally cowed. Their principal warriors had been slain,
their fort and wigwams burned, and their food and peltries destroyed. A
long hard winter was before them, and the ruthless white soldiers ready to
swoop down upon 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 down the
hill directly 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.

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THE ESOPUS MUTINY

AFTER the capitulation of New Amsterdam and its dependencies to the Duke
of York, in 1664, 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
military authorities and the Dutch civil magistrates. The inhabitants drew
up a formal complaint against the garrison, and among the charges were the
following:-
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
soldiers 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
without 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 upon his arm; they disarmed
him by force and brought him prisoner to the guard. But at their first
arrival at the aforesaid house they "found Capt. Broadhead with his cravat
torn

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and thrown away, and his face scratched and very much abused." [It would
appear that Sleight and the English Captain had 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. Broadhead with seven men
marched to them and demanded the occasion of their being in arms. Their
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 replied 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 would fire upon him, and would not be persuaded nor
commanded, 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 commanded 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
instigator 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 alive in the Esopus."

Tyerk Clausen says the reason why Capt. Broadhead abused him was because
he would keep Christmas on the day customary with the Dutch, and not on
the day according to the English observation. Capt. Broadhead acknowledged
it.

De Monts swore that last New Year's Day he had some friends at his house,
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
burgher to prison, and had misused and cut him, so that his wife and
children ran about the town crying that the English had killed their
father."

Jacob Johnson and Claus Clasen sworn and said the reason why Antonio Dalve
presented his gun 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. Whereupon he
said he would have nothing to do with said mutinous rogues, and returned
to his own house.

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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 Count 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 magistrates, 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 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 Nicolls 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
sentence.

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 "northwardmost" branch of the Delaware 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 extremity.

The matter was brought to the attention of the General Assembly of each
colony, and considerable spirit was shown in its consideration. A
committee

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appointed by the New York Assembly reported to the House, October 29,
1754, that they could not certainly discover what was the "Northwardmost
branch of the Delaware River;" that they find Minisink, and lands to the
northward 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 above
these bounds.

That of late years large bodies of Jerseyites have with violence taken
possession 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 holding
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 held to excessive bail or confined in prisons, and prosecuted
by indictments.

That people of New Jersey have from time to time taken possession of
vacant 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 possessions and move further north.

Thus while the respective Colonial Assemblies were adopting active
partisan 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 way.

By way of more effectually opposing the incursions of the Jerseymen, the
people of Orange converted their dwellings into places of defense, armed
themselves 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, where he had lived in peaceable possession for fifty years.

Having been disturbed in his lands, and threatened with personal violence
and ejectment, he proceeded to the residence of James Alexander, Esq., an
East New Jersey proprietor, 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 he would do neither he would 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 them approach, 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;

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that if a man, woman, or child, attempted to escape, he would be shot
down; that they had the strength to take all Goshen, and would do it in
time. They thereupon 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 possession.

Among the pioneers of Orange county was one Harmanus Van Inwegen, a bold,
strong and resolute man, who had married into the Swartwout family, who
were among the patentees of the disputed territory. Van Inwegan was by
nature and habit well fitted for the times in which he lived, and was
admirably 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 assumed the character of a fearless and able partisan.

One clay 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 another flying heels over head in another direction; in short, he
handled his unwelcome 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 Majors 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 the precautionary measures of the Major, some
Jerseymen effected an entrance into his abode during his temporary absence
in 1730, drove out his family, removed his goods, and assumed possession
of the premises. His wife was 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 from Goshen, his party
ambushed on a hill

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in a piece of woods near the Major's home. It  was arranged that Peter
Guimaer 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 attempt at recapture, Peter was to go into the orchard
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 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, all-to the home of Hermanus Van Inwegen,
armed, equipped, and caparisoned for war. The preparations were barely
completed 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 Invegen, "We are old men; our lives are of
less consequence than those of our younger companions; let us take our
paces 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 arrangement. 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 breathless interest.

The Jerseymen came within gunshot and halted. Such a military array that
with 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 still
more deeply into the stern hearts of the invaders.

Gerardus Swartwout, a young son of the Major; who was in the line behind
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 every --
rascal of them! Down with the ruthless invaders of our soil!"
This was more than the Jerseymen could stand. Their column 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 command; but before they could pull trig-

36        

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
worshippers. 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 long, rough-and-tumble struggle. The Major, being reckoned the
more dangerous 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 recommendation 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 monsters
have been exhumed, some of them the largest and most complete specimens
that have come to the sight of man. In a tamarack swamp near Montgomery,
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 intestines lay was found a large mass of fragments of twigs and grass,
hardly fossilized 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 entire, 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 swamp-preserved by the
antiseptic property of the medium that caused his death; or whether we
think of his lordly mastery over the other beasts of his time, of the
majesty of his tread over valley and mountain, of his

37

anger when excited to fury, uttering his wrath in thunder tones-there is
that in the subject which clothes the locality in a new and interesting
light.*

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 deposited
whole, but that the jaw-bones, two of the ribs, and a thigh-bone had been
broken by some violent force while the flesh yet remained on the bones.

Two other parts of skeletons were 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 bones 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 world be necessary to break
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 braised and torn asunder by the tremendous cataracts,
created when the currents 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 lived, how and when he
died, there is no well-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-dealing 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 purpose of their
creation, and became extinct?

Was it some malignant distemper, fatal as the murrain of Egypt and
widespread as the earth itself, which attacked the herd and laid the
giants low? Or was it rather individual accident, numerous as the race,
befalling 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 reposing?

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

* Eager.

38        

meadows and slopes of Shawangunk in the sunlight 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 valleys?

A formidable objection to these animals having lived within a few hundred
years is the difficulty of so enormous a creature obtaining sustenance for
himself through our winters. It would seem that the mastodon lived in a
palæontological period more remote, when the climate was warmer, since the
allied huge animals do live in warmer latitudes. Perhaps it was the change
of climate 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 wad
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 Eden.

The mastodon belongs to the graminivorous class of quadrupeds. Had he
belonged to the carnivorous race, subsisting on flesh, he would have been
they most destructive butcher of which we could possibly conceive.

"Otisville, 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 rumbling 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 features, and covers a tract of some half-dozen acres. The
highway winds to one side of it, while a side-hill pasture borders the
other. The mastodon's remains were found near the lower end, only few feet
from solid ground. The creature 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 sore ten or more yards in diameter where the bones
were exhumed, which is now filled with water. The circumstances under
which the Mount 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

39

best; but with commendable enterprise they immediately set about 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 drawn out and spread upon the upland.

The place for the excavation was chosen solely on the ground of
convenience 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
great size astonished them and they could not divine what sort of animal
it had belonged to. Soon after they came upon more bones, similar 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 Mitchels kept at the work of digging, but they now had a double
purpose in view. At first the parts of the skeleton were thrown carelessly
into a heap, and left there unprotected. Now, as fast as found, they were
carefully guarded, and stored away under lock and key.

As the work 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 length. 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 college 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. O. C. Marsh, of Yale college, adopted, as he said, his
usual custom, and took the first and swiftest 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 accommodation 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 why the Mount Hope
mastodon to-day graces the Yale museum instead of the college cabinet at
Princeton.

40

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 packing
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
assumes her holiday garb, ere the sun has parched vegetation or the heat
become unbearable-that the following incidents are said to have
transpired. The wheat-fields of ancient Wildwyck were undulating
gracefully before the summer breeze; the rustling blades of coin gave
promise of a rich and abundant harvest, 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, was 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

41

when the inhabitants went to labor in the fields they did go with their
arms close at hand.

It was on the morning of the memorable 7th day of Juno that Lewis Du Bois
arose and went about his morning duties, returning to his log cabin 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
conversation was kept up. In fact this particular breakfast was partaken
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 by 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 pained 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 part.
Once on the threshold he was tempted to return and plead forgiveness; as
he passed the little window he saw Catherine seated at the puncheon table,
with her face buried in her hands. He would have gone back, but hearing
his name called by 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
taciturnity 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 forgiveness. 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 had
transpired since any act of atrocity had been committed, that those
ordinary measures of safety that prudence would have dictated were often
disregarded. On this particular morning a number of savages were noticed
about the village, going from house to house ostensibly to dispose of some
maize and a few beans. They had entered by all of the gates, coming in
singly or by twos and threes; and the people were unsuspectful that a
large body of savages were in their very midst, ready at the favorable
moment to enter upon the work of merciless slaughter and pillage.

42

Presently some people on horseback were seen approaching from the
direction of the new village. They were enveloped in a cloud of dust; and
were evidently under great excitement. As they drew nearer the people
collected to learn the cause of alarm.

"Indians!" shouted the horsemen. "The Indians have burnt the new village;
to arms! to arms!"

Almost instantly the war-whoop sounded, and it seemed as if Indians rose
up in the fated village of Wildwyck by magic, so rapidly did they pour out
of the log cabins and places of hiding. The work of shooting, tomahawking
and scalping began. The screams of affrighted women and children, the
shouts of the men, the groans of the dying, were soon mingled with the
roaring of the flames and the dreadful sounds of carnage.

At the time of the attack Lewis was some miles away. The alarm guns were
fired-the signal for every man to return to the fort. He knew some sudden
and appalling danger was impending over the settlement. Then immediately
followed the rattle of musketry. The fort was attacked. He saw the smoke
curling up in the summer sky-the smoke of burning dwellings, and what if
his own house was among those marked for destruction! Solicitude lent
speed to his steps. On every hand settlers were rushing in the direction
of the fort; the deepest anxiety depicted on every countenance, for all,
like Lewis, had dear ones in peril.

As Lewis drew nearer the stockade he could distinguish the exultant yells
of the savages-he knew the guard had been overpowered. The crackling of
the flames was distinctly discernible, and the smoke and embers went up
from new points as the houses were successively fired. Now he heard the
piercing shriek of a female and again the wail of a child. Oh, that he had
wings to fly to the rescue!

Ere he came up, breathless, with a score or more of his companions, the
strife had ceased. The Indians had beheld the reinforcement coming; and
securing such of the booty as they could carry away, together with a
number of prisoners, they had made good their retreat. Lewis, pale and
anxious, rushed in through the gate of the fort. On every side he beheld
evidences of slaughter and destruction. Dwellings in flames; bodies lying
about the streets, scalped and otherwise mutilated; friends gathered about
the corpses of companions; others running frantically about inquiring for
missing relatives, while all seemed overwhelmed with grief and terror.

With forebodings Lewis ran to the spot where his cabin stood, where he had
the last glimpse of his wife at the homely breakfast table a few hours
before, only to find his home a mass of ruins. He called loudly her name,
but 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? All
were too much absorbed in their own grief to heed his eager inquiries, or
could not give him the desired information.

The dead had been collected, such as not been consumed in the burning

43

dwellings. Ten men, one woman and three children were among the victims.
Bleeding, mutilated by the murderous 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 feeling 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 only be realized by those who have passed
through the ordeal.

Among those most deeply stricken was Lewis DuBois. His house and all his
earthly goods were in ashes; his wife, he at last learned, had been
carried off a prisoner 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 poignant part of his regret that the last words
spoken to her-the last he might ever be permitted to speak-were those of
anger; and that his last remembrance 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
outward exhibitions of grief when duty called to act. To prepare the dead
for burial, and, if possible, to rescue the prisoners, were measures
immediately resolved upon. The former was a sad duty, the latter a most
dangerous task. All fear was banished from those whose wives and children
were in the lands of savages; they would dare anything 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 forebodings the remnant of the village saw this little
band of heroes depart on their errand of difficulty and danger, following
them with tearful and prayerful anxiety 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 with the blood of their
slaughtered relatives. For the first few miles the demeanor of their
savage captors was harsh and violent. They would menace them with the
tomahawk by way of urging them to a more rapid movement. The Indians
evidently feared pursuit, and they were anxious to put as many miles
between them and their possible pursuers as they could. Once out of reach
of immediate danger the party slackened their pace, and conducted the
retreat more leisurely. Just before nightfall one of the prisoners gave
out; she was tomahawked and scalped, and left where she fell. At last a
halt was ordered, and the party prepared to bivouac for the night.

Fires were lighted, and the savages arranged themselves for the evening
meal. The prisoners were 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

beasts of prey, as they fought and feasted on the body of their lamented
sister, tomahawked that afternoon.

They were here destined to have the 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
shot 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 occurrences 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 the line of march, following the
alluvial bottoms along the banks of a stream. Towards noon a messenger
arrived, 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 keeping 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
consternation; but these heroic women 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 heads 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 beheld awaiting them. Then their pent-up feelings broke
forth in song; and with swelling hearts, yet with voices unbroken, those
captives sang Marot's beautiful French hymn, of which the following is a
part:

By Babel's stream the captives sate
And wept for Zion's hapless fate;
Useless their harps on willows hung,
While foes required a sacred song.

45

While thus they sang the mourners viewed
Their foes by Cyrus's arm subdued,
And saw his glory rise, who spread
Their streets and fields with hosts of dead.

This was the first Christian song heard on the banks of the Shawangunk
kill. Tradition 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 their prayers, God had sent them deliverance. A panic seized the red
men, and they fled in dismay for the mountains. The captives, not knowing
the cause of alarm, ran after them; but they presently heard the sound of
well-known voices calling them back. The next moment they were clasped in
the arms of their 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 autumn
for couches; and the overhanging branches 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
the 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 strength to keep up with the other prisoners; a pack of wolves
had devoured most of the flesh, the only means of identification being her
dress. The journey home was begun next morning, where a warm welcome
awaited them.

GREYCOURT INN

PASSENGERS by the Erie railway, as the train slows up at an unassuming
station in southern Orange, will hear the stentorian voice of the trainman
call out "Greycourt." This appellation, 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 be a resident,
and blandly inquires what this uncanny title means, and is answered in the
prevalent dialect, "Dun-no." A second venture is met with-"Can't tell,
boss; give us an easier one!" The name cannot be of Indian origin, nor
does it savor of having been handed down from the broad-breeched Dutch
ancestral population of the valley; yet it has an historical significance
if tradition is to be believed.

46

It was at a time when thousands of oppressed subjects, fleeing from the
intolerance and tyranny of old Europe, first sought freedom and happiness
in the new land beyond the seas-the America of the west. William Bull, an
Irishman, with no fortune but youth and a good constitution, imbibing the
prevalent feeling among all classes, took passage in an English packet
bound for New York. He counted his money-five guineas-to the skipper of
the packet, and was told the amount would pay for his passage. Arrived in
port he tendered his five guineas, and was gruffly told it was not enough.
"But it's all I've got," said the Irishman. "Then you must be sold to pay
the balance of your passage money," said the captain. All expostulation
was vain; and the skipper affected to have no recollection of a previous
understanding. William Bull saw he was in the captain's power; the laws of
England made it obligatory on his part to render an equivalent in hard
labor for the balance claimed, and he had no friend to take up his cause
against the purpose of the over-reaching captain.

"Then I'll go back in the ship," said the outraged Irishman; "if I've got
to be a slave, I'll be one in my own land!"

It so occurred that Daniel Cromline, who resided on the Wawayanda patent,
was then in the port at which the packet had arrived. The advent of a ship
in port in those days was an occasion of importance, and always drew a
crowd of interested persons and curiosity seekers, and Cromline was among
the number attracted thither by the novelty. The story of the Irish
passenger had got abroad, and his case had excited considerable sympathy,
especially as the avarice and tyranny of sea-captains was a trait by no
means rare. Cromline, being in want of a "hand" at his new settlement,
forthwith asked to be presented to the distressed passenger. The result of
the interview was that Cromline advanced an amount covering the deficit in
Bull's passage money, and took the grateful Irishman home with him.

William Bull proved to be a great accession to the working force of the
new settlement in the wilderness. He was strong and willing, and of a mild
and hopeful disposition. He was skillful in the use of tools, and fertile
in expedients-qualities that were especially valuable where tools were
scarce and the facilities limited; and where, if a much-needed article was
obtained, it had to be ordered from Holland, or England, and a year was
required to get it.

Daniel Cromline set to work to construct a log mansion that should be far
superior to any house for miles around. As an innovation in the building
art, the puncheon was discarded, and real boards, sawed by whips in a saw-
pit, entered into the construction of the floors and doors, and were held
in place with wooden pins. The prime workman and chief architect was
William Bull, but for whose ingenuity and physical strength the edifice
would have been lacking in many of its sterling excellencies.

Though William Bull had emigrated thousands of miles from the scenes of
his youth, and had apparently buried himself in the heart of a vast
wilderness, it must not be supposed that he had turned savage like the
wild beasts and Indians by whom he was surrounded. His young and
susceptible heart began to

47

feel the promptings of the tender sentiment; and fortunately for him,
Providence had provided a trim and comely lass who was to reciprocate his
passion.

The youthful and imaginative reader has doubtless already pictured their
long and sentimental walks of these lovers under the sombre shadows of the
forest by moonlight; or the more cosy and confidential talks seated on the
slab bench before the roaring fire-place after the old folks had retired,
while the wolves howled without, and the panther screamed from the lonely
glen; and has fancied the friends of the lady at first objecting to the
match, but finally, one and all, brought over in favor of the Irishman.

And so the story would read, if it were the work of fiction; but the stern
logic of facts compels the statement that there were no friends to
conciliate, and no old folks to propitiate, for the bride was as
friendless and portionless as the groom himself.

Like her future liege lord, Sarah Wells, by the stern and exacting laws of
the period, had been reduced to involuntary servitude to a landed
proprietor on Long Island. By the vicissitudes of fortune her master had
lost his property, and Sarah had made her way by the assistance of some
friendly Indians to the neighborhood of Goshen. Here her dusky friends had
built her a log hut, and supplied her for a time with venison, until
chance threw her in the way of William Bull.

The marriage ceremony took place in the Cromline log palace, a local
magistrate officiating. Bull was an Episcopalian; his creed required the
publication of the bans three times, but this formulary was looked upon
with disfavor, inasmuch as its observance would defer the wedding-day. The
magistrate was equal to the emergency-he could both satisfy the scruples
of William and promptly tie the nuptial knot at the same time.

So the magistrate went to the rear door of the Cromline mansion and
proclaimed aloud to the trees of the forest-"If anyone has any objection
to the marriage of William Bull and Sarah Wells, let him now make it
known, or forever keep silent;" and having so proclaimed, shut the door
and passed to the front of the house. This he did three times. The forest
trees offering no objection, he commanded the high contracting parities to
stand up before him; and then and there was performed the first wedding
ceremony, according to the usages of civilized society, in the town of
Goshen.

The wedding-feast at the Cromline cabin absorbed the talk for weeks for
the entire settlement; a slab table, made like a bench, without a spread
of any kind, was loaded down with refreshments. These were of a plain but
substantial sort. There was the toothsome and tender venison done up, in
pot-roasts and tempting steaks; there was the succulent and juicy wild-
turkey, hot and steaming, and served up in a dish of its own gravy; there
was the rich and tempting corn, grown in the natural meadows on the
"drowned lands," and made into pone, which served in lieu of wedding-cake,
while metheglin was the principal beverage that washed them down. The
plates on which the repast was served varied in size and pattern, some
being of pewter, but more of wood; their knives were mainly butcher
knives, while their forks were sharpened

48

sticks. A dance closed the festivities, and all made merry to a sound of
the fiddle. All the hunters and frontiersmen for miles around were
required to make up the party. The men in deerskin breeches and rakish
coon-skin caps, and the backwoods belles in garb scarcely less primitive,
showed to good advantage as jigs, four-hand reels and double-shuffles were
executed in true frontier style-for your sedate and spiritless modern
cotillion was to them a thing unknown. The old log house still stands,
almost within sound of the stir and bustle of Goshen, where this couple
first set up housekeeping, and their numerous descendants to-day are among
the most prosperous and influential of the valley. The annual gathering of
the Bull family is now a firmly established institution.

The Cromline log mansion, after this event, speedily acquired a celebrity
in border parlance. It was located on the route leading from New Windsor
to New Jersey; its owner, with an eye to the main chance, entertained
travelers between those points, and it soon grew to a popular inn, and a
place of resort for all classes. As was meet for all inns of standing and
pretension, it was in due time graced with a sign, in front. This was of
an oval shape, painted and decorated on either side, and suspended by
hinges from a cross-piece on the top of a pole some twenty feet high that
stood apart from the building. On one side of this sign, out of customary
deference to the King-for this was before the Revolution-was painted the
arms of royalty; on the other, in gaudy colors, represented a goose,
because of the proximity of Goose Pond swamp. That old house was privileged
to behold many a jovial revel, of a different sort from the wedding-feast
of Mr. and Mrs. William Bull. During the wild days of Indian warfare many a
redskin passed beneath the sign of the Old Goose for his drink of
fire-water. And during the trying times of the Revolutionary struggle, it
was the resort of Whigs, Tories, Cowboys, and marauders of every sort, who
needed the stimulus of brandy to nerve them to their work. That house stood
for 116 years; when decay and the march of improvement consigned it,
notwithstanding all its associations, to the doom of demolition.

During the War of Independence, the sign with its opprobrious English
coat-of-arms,* came to be the butt of endless jokes and gibes. But the
landlord did not choose to abate the nuisance. The painting finally became
weather-beaten; the gaudy colors faded; the coat-of-arms turned to an
uncertain grey, and was derisively dubbed "Grey Coat." This was gradually
metamorphosed into "Greycourt,"† a name which the locality still retains.

* A crown-stone had been obtained from England at a great outlay for the
"old jail" at Goshen. But such was the feeling against everything that
savored of Great Britain that Gabriel Wisner, with the approval of the
people, demolished the offending crown-stone with a hammer.

† It may interest the reader to trace the transition from primitive "Duck
Cedar" into classic "Tuxedo."